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sidhewrites · 6 months

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23! Everything is lovely! Kaz and Lucy get to go on a proper date, and we get some lovely halloween fun. Nothing goes wrong at the end of this chapter, don't even worry about it.

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For the next few days, I stand at my window, staring at the spot behind the church where I know Magnus's bones lay. I can't see it well from my vantage point, and I don't know what I'm looking for, but it doesn't matter. Nothing happens. Magnus is gone, sealed in a jar at the bottom of his grave -- hopefully for the rest of eternity.

Renfield is fine. Despite being pure white, and occasionally appearing to glow, he's back to his old self, snoring and purring and meeping in the hopes that I'd give him some cold cuts or catnip -- which I do anyway, since he's old and arthritic again, and deserves the best for however long he has left. I'm thinking of talking to Mr. Ngo about purchasing a plot in the cemetery for him. It's expensive and stupid, but I'd want him buried next to Lucy when he goes.

Lucy meanwhile, is getting stronger and stronger each day. Though she still can't exist in this world when the sun is up, she can occasionally manipulate physical objects and leave the cemetery for longer and longer before feeling weak.

She doesn't have any telekinesis just yet, which disappoints her more than she wants to let on, but I know exactly what that little pout means. For three hours straight, we sat in the graveyard together. I nursed my first cup of coffee slowly as she stared hard at the second, hoping to at least tip it over. In the end, though, nothing happened until I lifted it myself and drank it down.

"Mmmm," I said. "Ghost coffee." And then, because I was restless and stupid, I said, "You wanna go out with me? Like -- as a couple?"

She looks at me with her big brown eyes, and I think a bit of color rises in her pale face. "Oh?"

"Yeah. You know, maybe." I shrug. "There's this Halloween carnival-fest-thing in two days. You know, on actual Halloween. I thought it would be fun if I could take you out and show you the sights, and you could tell me the history of carnival games and food and stuff."

"Ah..." She hesitates, looking down at her gown -- the same one she's worn for 150 years.

"Don't worry about the costume. I'll wear something to match. Yeah?"

She looks up at me again, and smiles. "Yeah."

The sun is still high in the sky as the carnival opens up. Kids run around in costume, playing games to win stuffed animals or waiting in line for the rides. Black and orange bunting stretches over the streets leading into the picnic area just past the treeline of Sutton Regional Forest. [Describe the fun stuff]

I've never felt better. After a shower, and a serious nap, I don a black suit and tied a cape around my neck. "Bleh bleh bleh," I say to my reflection, striking a most dramatic and spooky vampire pose, before racing down to load up on caffeine. It's the last night Lucy will be able to leave the graveyard in a while, and I intend to make it perfect.

She's waiting for me at the edge of the graveyard, her black veil thrown over her face. She looks like a wraith in the afternoon light, and I glance down to see how sturdy she is. Despite appearing solid as anyone else, there's a slight translucence to the hem of her gown. I hope she's able to maintain a form in this world long enough to last until the costume parade if nothing else. Childish as it is, I want to walk down Main Street holding her hand, looking like a couple for all the world to see.

"What is this?" I say with my poor attempt at a Dracula voice. "An innocent maiden, so far from home at this hour of..." I glance up at the late afternoon sun. "Day?" My words are garbled around the plastic fangs in my mouth, and she laughs.

"You'll have to do better than that," she says. "I'm afraid it's not quite easy to suck my blood."

"Oh no?" I ask, and waggle my eyebrows. "Then I shall simply have to steal you away to my castle!" She giggles, and I strike another dramatic pose, before holding out the various things I've brought. "You ready?"

"I know what those are." She points at the two plastic jack-o-lantern buckets hanging from my wrist. "But I'm at a loss for the rest."

"Perfect. Sit down, let me learn you Halloween."

She raises an eyebrow, but does so, arranging herself prettily on the nearest bench. I dump my various things next to her and present them one by one -- a slap bracelet, glow-in-the-dark vampire fangs that somehow always taste like dental cement, a tiny knife that fills with blood if you squeeze the handle, and her favorite -- a little ghost key-chain makes ghost noises and ominous music whenever you press the button. It seems to take all her strength not to reach out and grab it, so I press the button a number of times, filling the air with ghostly wailing and organ music, as well as Lucy's laughing.

Finally, music starts echoing out from the fairgrounds in downtown, and I grin. "Come on. Let's go trick-or-treating."

Lucy sticks close to me, but I make sure to give the crowd a wide berth as we make our way to the fair grounds, leaving no chances of someone accidentally walking through her. I probably look crazy, laughing and talking to myself, but I don't care. Lucy is here, taking in the sights, awestruck and overjoyed at every little thing. We barely make it past the balloon arch before she stops to point out a feat of modern engineering -- the extension cord.

"These have always amazed me," she says. "Not only can you generate or harness electricity, but you can keep pushing it further and further away from the source. Isn't that amazing?"

It is. She is.

We make our way through the streets slowly, skirting around the carnival rides that have probably been in operation longer than I've been alive. Our first stop is a food stand, decorated in autumnal reds and oranges.

"Anything I can get for you two?" the worker asks, and Lucy looks at me in shocked delight.

I nod at her, having no explanation as to why he can see her, but not wanting to question a good thing. We find a bench a small ways away from the crowd.

"These have always looked so delicious," Lucy says, and watches closely as I take a bite. It's a little weird, but it's worth it to let her live the modern Halloween dream, vicariously or otherwise.

"They're amazing. I love them. I nearly ruined my braces one year because I got away from my parents and stole one from the booth."

"You're a veritable criminal. What's it taste like?"

"Well, I mean. It's a caramel apple. It's, uh..." I frown, trying to figure out if caramel would be different now than it used to be. It's just fancy, goopy sugar, right? Plus a load of high-fructose corn syrup, I guess. "It's sweet and gooey on the outside. You know, caramel. And the apple's sour underneath, and crunchy. It's two completely different things, but they come together into something awesome. Kind of like us." It's the cheesiest thing anyone has ever said in the history of the world, and I can't help but cringe as soon as it's out of my mouth.

But Lucy only laughs. "Just so."

Her dark eyes shine as she looks out at the fair. The Jack o lanterns grimacing, the kids running around and laughing. Electricity and music and fun. After I finish the apple, we just walk around, Lucy pointing out things she recognizes and giving me a brief history, or asking me about things she doesn't know. I list off no shortage of video game characters running past us, kids dressed up as heroes and monsters hyped up on sugar and fun. The last of the sun's rays dip behind the horizon, and the electric lights fill the world with a hundred different colors.

[Lucy is enamored with it all, westruck and almost alive in the warm carnival lights.]

She's so beautiful in the moment that I forget myself and reach out, thinking to tilt her face towards me and kiss her. Of course, the second my hand brushes against her chin, a bolt of frozen dread shoots down my spine, and I flinch back with a yelp.

Lucy looks over, trying and failing not to laugh as she apologizes.

"No, no, that was dumb of me. I forgot for a minute."

"What were you thinking? You know you can't touch me."

I shake off the heebie-jeebies, and shrug, keenly aware of how hot my face had suddenly become. "I was just thinking about how gorgeous you are when you get excited, and that I really wanted to kiss you."

A faint pink blooms across her cheeks, the only color in a sea of grayscale, and I grin like an idiot. "Come on," I say. "Let me take you trick-or-treating."

We follow a small crowd from shop-front to shop-front. Lucy grins, shouting Trick or Treat every time and watching our little pumpkin buckets fill up with candy bars and goodies. I put a vampire sticker on my bucket and show it off. We're acting like kids, but I don't care. It's fun, and she's laughing, and it's all I can do to stop myself from kissing her again and again and again.

Hours later, we've gone through a small maze of hay-bales, entered and lost a costume contest, and applauded as a flash mob performed a few dances in the middle of the food area. I took her to the row of carnival games next, featuring a mix of new games with basket balls and water guns, and, much to her delight, more traditional games. Lucy makes a beeline for the milk bottles, and tells me the rules even if I already know them.

"You want me to win you a prize? Go on, pick your favorite."

She beams, and looks over the rows of stuffed animals to win. "That one," she says, indicating a teddy bear dressed up like a vampire on the top row. It's at least two feet tall.

"As you wish," I say, and pay the nice man to play. I know the games are rigged, but I don't care. I'm too strong and too stubborn to do anything but make a show of winding up my first ball, and tossing it -- only to miss the pyramid of milk bottles entirely.

Lucy laughs.

"Right. Okay. Just warming up. This one's gonna do it, first try." I throw again, but it goes wide once more, hitting the back of the game booth with a soft thunk.

"Come on, Kaz. You've got this."

"I've got this," I say, with confidence I don't deserve. It's the last ball, and I close one eye, doing my best to focus on the target, and not the beautiful woman next to me bouncing on the balls of her feet, watching me with all the earnestness and support in the world.

I pull my arm back. I breathe out. I aim.

I throw.

And miss.

Lucy cheers uncertainly.

I play three more games, determined to get Lucy the vampire bear, but in the end, my biceps mean nothing when my aim is shit. I managed to hit one single bottle of the top of the pyramid, and win a little palm-sized Frankenstein instead. I pout when I take it, even if Lucy makes a show of cooing over it to make me feel better.

As it gets closer to midnight, we make our way to the outer limits of the fair now, walking together with the spoils of the night. Candy, stickers, key chains, and little Frankenstein. Lucy recounts the plot of the actual book to me, and I tell her about the various movies and how Boris Karloff basically shaped what we see as Frankenstein today.

It's cold out now. I shiver every now and then, but Lucy is untouched by the cold as always.

[sitting on a bench Somehow she hands something to Lucy, who feels brave enough to try touching something, only for it to not work.]

"Ah..." she hesitates, hand still outstretched as we look at the toy, sitting askew on the bench between us. It's a sad sight. "It seems the veil can only thin so far." There's such a forced lightness in her voice that I feel something tugging in my chest.

Nothing can ruin this night for her. Not even little toy Frankenstein. I pick him up and manipulate the doll into doing a silly little dance, while putting on a stupid voice and singing an old show tune.

When her laugh doesn't convince me, I reach out with my free hand to put it over hers. She may not be able to interact with the rest of the world, but I'll give her as much as I possibly can. But rather than phasing through and suffering from a bout of heebie-jeebies, my hand rests gently on top of hers. It's not quite solid, something fragile and barely there, but it's her hand, tangible and real. "Oh," I say.

"Oh," she agrees.

My face burns, and I look up to meet her gaze. Her brown eyes, nearly black in the low light, looking right back into mine.

My stomach twists in an anxious, hesitant joy as I start to lean forward. My heart leaps in my throat. Lucy leans forward as well, lips beginning to part. My stomach flips again.

My stomach twists into knots.

I turn away just before it turns itself inside out, and I vomit into the ground. Black bile splatters on my shoes, and the smell makes me heave all over again.

I look up miserably, thinking to make a joke about eating too much sugar -- but my mouth moves of its own free will, with words that aren't my own. "Well," it says. "It's about time I got a handle on things around here."

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 10 months

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Two Eyes - a Magnus Archives fic

“Can I have a cigarette?”

No. No, this… couldn’t happen.

One moment of fear gripped me, memories of stories, and of the thing I’d seen in the Unknowing, shucking people out of their skin like corn. But I wasn’t the same; the world wasn’t the same. Even if this was happening, I was not some weak human anymore.

Part of the Magnus Monsterverse.

AO3

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Martin and I spent the rest of the day celebrating my new job and pretending we didn’t feel like there was a threat to the whole world possibly looming over our heads.

Was something going on? Absolutely. Did we have further means to figure it out right now? We did not! Did we need stress relief? Yes.

And… well. We hadn’t really gotten the chance to be… goofy together. Silly.

Dating.

Flirting. (As absolutely poor as mine was, he received it with grace.)

Eating each other’s ice cream, and… all those things.

Here we were, giggling over dropped whipped cream on a cafe table, leaning in, and being ridiculous.

I only saw him. I only wanted to see him.

He took my hand and brought it to his lips, smiling at me over my knuckles. “I’m dating a hot librarian, did you know?”

“Not a librarian,” I said. “Only a temporary worker. Shelver.”

“Bringing down hot librarian money ,” he said.

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Right. Flush.”

“Absolutely rich,” he murmured, absolutely not meaning money, looking at me through his lashes.

Oh, Martin…

I’m sure, statistically, I must have been happier in my life, but at that moment, I could not think of one such time.

“I have to admit it,” I murmured, my head on his shoulder. “Quiet London is nice.”

“Right?” said Martin, his head resting on mine. We sat on a bench in a park called Hadrian’s Folly. (Not the Roman general, but an architect born eight hundred years later, who’d tried to turn this park into a palace and discovered it to be all but swamp, sinking his creation. You could still tour the upper rooms.) “Honestly, it… it’s nice. When I need to be alone, I can be. Truly. Or at least, according to my five senses.”

I knew what he meant. It was quiet, but oh… I still knew. Knew every mind that passed, knew the fleeting hearts that beat with such concerns all around, knew the weight upon them to be silent and show nothing and stay calm.

I did not yet know why they felt those things. Which was curious. I’d have to push to learn more, and I didn’t want to do that. I exhaled. “I just wish we had more time like this.”

“Maybe we will. We don’t actually know what’s happening. What the danger is. If there is any.”

“I think the Gerrys are right,” I murmured. “And I think that… possibly not-evil Jonah was genuinely trying to warn me of something.”

“So let’s go eat Leitner and cut it off at the pass,” Martin said, mostly joking. He threaded his fingers between mine.

“Ha,” I said. “If he’s cagey enough to make Jonah Magnus nervous, he’s probably even worse than a pair of haunted eyeballs.”

Martin laughed and began naming other potentially haunted body parts.

We grew quite ribald, and had anyone come near, I suspect we would have embarrassed them.

But no one did. In Quiet London terms, we were loud, but we were also left alone.

That night, tucked into his too-small bed, we slept. Or really, Martin slept, and I lay awake, trying to ignore the next logical step staring me in the face.

I wanted to learn more without losing myself. I knew I hadn’t exhausted my fellow Eye-based resources yet. Not at all. However, I didn’t want to see him.

I didn’t want to! But there weren’t a lot of us Eye-type folk here, curiously enough. I wasn’t sure why that was, and the Eye wasn’t telling me (tonight’s topic was the history of Nesalogus netscheri , the world’s rarest breed of rabbit). I’d exhausted the Gerrys; I already knew that even if I visited the other two, they would basically say, We already talked about this? And then maybe go make out with Michael, or whatever.

But Jonah was new, I told myself. He wouldn’t know anything, I told myself. It would be a waste of time, I told myself.

The Eye wanted me to talk to him.

The Eye still wanted us to… get along.

I fidgeted. Rolled over. Flopped over Martin, spooning him from behind like some weird ocular backpack.

“You good?” he murmured.

“No,” I moaned. “It wants me to talk to Jonah.”

“You’re probably going to have to, anyway,” he said.

“He’s not asleep.” I knew . “He’s waiting for me.”

“What… now?” Martin half sat up and checked his phone. “Jon, it’s two in the morning.”

“I’m sorry,” I said pitiably.

He rolled over.

This bed really was too small for us. Even on our sides, we were face to face, or pressed up close; and neither of us wanted anything else. (Which amazed me, because shouldn’t he want space from me?) “Do you need to go, Jon?” he whispered.

“It’s not exactly visiting hours.”

“Sasha doesn’t sleep. She’ll let you in.”

“You’re awfully calm about this,” I said.

“I’ve been over there this late.”

He said it so casually, so… so throwaway. But I knew, suddenly, why. Panic attacks; feeling the world go vague; terror that he’d just… lose himself, and wander Quiet London in a state of emptiness, or an empty city, or maybe that he’d make it empty, and wouldn’t even know, and—

“Martin,” I breathed. “How… how long have you been here?”

His eyes tightened. “A while.”

“How long has all this been going on?”

“A while.”

“Martin…”

He touched my cheek. “You don’t know how long I waited. How long I had to wait. I gave up, Jon.”

Here we were, lovers, together in a way we’d wanted to be in the non-apocalyptic world, and never had the chance… and I hadn’t known this about him. “I’m so selfish,” I whispered. “I should have asked.”

“If I’d wanted to talk about it, I would have,” said Martin. “If you need to go see her tonight, go on. You’ll be fine.”

“Hunters?” I suggested.

“They’re rare,” he said. “And you’ll be careful.”

“And we’re currently suspecting Leitner and have probably got on somebody’s radar,” I said.

He kissed my forehead. “And you can stop them. Which nobody else is able to do.”

He really had changed.

I mean. I knew that. Of course he had. So had I. But he… he was so much quieter. Solemn. The nervous fidgeting was just… gone; his caution, too, seemed to be largely lost, in odd ways.

His focus on me was so very steady. Like I was the only light he could see. And I was missing something else. Something…

Forgive him , the Eye encouraged, but I had nothing to forgive. Martin had never wronged me. “You’re really encouraging me to go out in the middle of the night and see the younger version of a man I hated so much I ate .”

“Admit it,” he said. “You’ve done far weirder.”

I laughed. “I get it now. You’ve become the mad old wise man who lives in a cave.”

“Absolutely,” he said. “With a baking show. Also a blazing social life.”

“Blazing, you say.” Did I really have to leave?

“Absolutely hedonistic,” he said with a small smile, and kissed me.

We were busy for a little while. I no longer felt nearly as anxious, and that truly helped.

He exhaled slowly, forehead against mine. “I choose to believe you’re going to be fine. That you can handle whatever comes at you. That we will be fine.”

This sounded like a mantra. “I can get behind that.”

He looked at me again. “I waited so long. I don’t think I can do it again.”

“I love you,” I whispered. “I…” We weren’t each other’s… us. But we were. Weren’t we? “This is confusing,” I added.

“Yeah,” he said, not asking for clarification, and kissed me again.

“You sure I should go tonight?”

“Will you sleep if you don’t?”

I made a face. “Probably not.”

“You have to go sign paperwork and all of that tomorrow. Go see him. Might as well get it out of the way.”

“You really think this isn’t dangerous.”

“What I think,” said Martin, unblinking, “is that if I don’t choose to trust you now, and get all possessive and weird, I will be feeding the worst parts of myself. So I choose to trust you’ll be safe.”

He wasn’t okay, was he?

The Eye was silent; It didn’t know. This was Martin. It saw Martin. It didn’t analyze Martin. It saw him. Not helpful.

Maybe Martin had just… figured it out. Maybe he really was older and wiser, and I was worried over nothing.

He laughed suddenly. “Your face is a journey right now.”

“Caught me.” It didn’t matter if he wasn’t the one I’d known before. I knew I wanted him now. I knew I loved him now. At this point, I think we both would have known if we didn't fit. “All right. I’ll go.”

“I probably won’t sleep until you get back,” he said, watching me dress in the dark.

“Bribery,” I pronounced, and kissed him again. “I’ll be back.”

“Jokes aside.. If you do somehow run into trouble, please just run.”

I looked down at him, sprawled in his bed, watching me unblinking. “I will. I promise.”

He touched my hand, and I left.

Quiet London was, big shock, even quieter at night.

Not much was open. Lights kept things feeling safe, but there just… wasn’t anyone. No music. No late-night plays letting out. People were awake; I felt them—more pf them lived in London than had in my time, because here, somehow, rent prices had stayed within the grasp of the common man.

It wasn’t really a comforting quiet, though. There was something abjectly miserable about it, though I couldn’t say what. Anticipation? No; a sourness, familiar enough to leave me almost knowing what it was, and yet just altered so that I could not immediately put my finger on it.

I could know.

“Yes, Jon, let’s do that, risking losing myself on a public street, alone and without help. Brilliant,” I muttered.

“Can I have a cigarette?” someone said.

I froze.

To my right was an alley. A shape stood there, human, swaying almost hypnotically, rhythmically, over and over, left and right.

Had I stroked out? “What?”

“Can I have a cigarette?”

No. No, this… couldn’t happen.

“Can I have a cigarette?” said the shape, swaying.

“Listen,” I said, taking a step closer. “I may be new, but I damn well know you’re not supposed to be hunting on your own.”

It swayed, mesmeric. Echoes wafted around it, things I heard not with my ears—cries, screams, the loss of life thanks to this horrifying creation. It had been hunting for a very long time.

Oh, I was getting angry. “Last chance. I will react with prejudice.”

“Can I have a cigarette?” said the shape.

I opened all my eyes and saw .

The angler fish was no solid thing, no proper, unified construct, and it began to peel, shreds of skin and the barest shape of a person beneath cracking and dropping away. The horrifying blob beneath that shape shuddered as if in pain (but it felt none, because it was not real), slivering and melting and falling apart in globs of stolen fat until all was gone.

Behind it stood the puppetmaster.

How could I be surprised, and yet not surprised at all? How could I even have missed the fact that I had met only one Stranger here in our entire group? Stranger-survivors were even rarer than the Eye's, and we were opposites, opposed, enemies.

Especially this one. “Hello, Nikola,” I said.

“Archivist,” said Nikola, her borrowed voice box just as twistedly bright as her old one had been. “Funny meeting you here in the middle of the night! I suppose you want to have a little chat. It does seem your style.”

And she—

This wasn’t the Nikola who’d been locked up. I knew that. So how the hell was she here?

I knew something else, too, as I stared at her, as she stepped out into the light of the street lamps, her hideously malformed plastic smeared with blood and gore, her ringmaster’s uniform shredded and faded: she was old . Very old. Much older than the Nikola I’d known. Impossibly so. She was far, far older than the portal Manuela had made to get to this place.

It was so funny, not being afraid of her anymore. Absolutely bizarre. “How did you even get here?” I started.

“Are you going to turn me in, Archivist?” she said. “I suppose they might believe you, though I don’t think you could actually force me to go with you. A manhunt, I think! How fun! Well, they wouldn’t find me. Not like that other .”

“The other you,” I said.

“Oh, yes! She’s a copy, you know.”

She…

I almost understood that. She was Stranger, and… well, that was the whole thing, wasn’t it? None of them were real . So a copy of a copy may not make a difference to the rest of us, but it did to them, for some reason.

But hadn’t they gotten that Nikola in the usual way? Scooped out of another world? How could that one be a copy of this one? This one… who had been feeding on people for so many years .

She wasn’t building toward the Unknowing. This was just for her. Taking children, taking people, keeping them in an impossible grip of terror and confusion until their bodies simply gave out. Torturing them and enjoying the absolute nightmare she put them through as they screamed, louder than they had ever been in their entire lives.

She’d been doing it for so long. “How dare you hurt people,” I hissed. “You could’ve gone any other way, could’ve joined us, could’ve been helped , and instead, you’re doing this? How dare you!”

“Funny words from a funny man,” said Nikola, clacking her filthy hands at me (one with eight fingers, the other with three). “You feed all the time… do you feel guilty? Oh, I’m sure you do . I’m sure it just eats at you, makes you question everything. I don’t, little Archivist! Isn’t that lovely? You could join me, instead, and avoid their gaze. You could be free of the worst wickedness!”

What the hell was she talking about? “I’m… I… I do not feed all the time, and you are changing the subject,” I snapped, ignoring her accusations of guilt, because of course I felt that, we all felt that, how could we not?

“Funny, funny man,” said Nikola. “I must go rebuild my prop, though, so if you’re all done being scary …”

“I am not done being scary!” I blurted like an idiot. “I can’t leave you out here. Come with me, turn yourself in, or I swear to hell, I will destroy you.”

She stared at me, or I thought she did—whatever paint her face had once had was gone, burned away, leaving patches not quite in the right places for face, nose, eyes—and then, she laughed. Because of course she did.

“I mean it, Nikola.”

“I know ! That’s why it’s delightful. Do you think I’m going to… oh, what is that phrase? Come quietly?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Do you have any sense of self-preservation?”

“You are far more confident than my last Archivist,” she said, and (predictably) revealed a morbid history. “Chomp, chomp! He was quite gamy. And he cried.”

Yes, yes, she’d killed me, whatever . She was covered in the blood of innocents here . Why was I even fooling around with this? “We are not far from Sasha’s. You’re coming. Or you’re dying. Now. ”

The Eye was eager for both. Either. Whichever one didn’t matter.

She sighed. “Oh, very well.”

She didn’t want to die. I had that to leverage over her. “Do you know where the hospital is? For our kind.”

“I do.” She sounded so bored.

“Lead the way. I am not taking my damned eyes off you.”

“As if you’d take them off me no matter where I walked,” she said, but began lurching up the street at speed.

“Nikola!” I snapped, and ran after her like an idiot. This was not what I’d promised Martin I would do. Oh, well! I was in it now, wasn’t I?

Sbe surged up the hill, her limbs moving slowly but covering great and terrible ground, and I knew I was going to lose her.

Idiot! I thought to myself, and taking out my phone, sent Sasha a message without taking my eyes off Nikola. Incoming Via Sacra going north passing Branzen’s pub right now Help Help

Right, that would tip her off, but the activity of running as fast as I could while watching Nikola and also looking at my phone was… dizzying.

Straining? No, not exactly, but this was splitting attention in a way I hadn’t done before. I was amazed I could, and sort of proud of myself, but also running out of mental space very damn quickly.

“Stop!” I called after her. “You’re making things worse!”

“I think not, Archivist!” Nikola called back at me from near the top of the hill. “I think the next meeting will be on my terms, don’t you?”

How dare she threaten me. How dare she threaten those I love, because if she was coming after me, then Martin was not safe—

Which was when Sasha hit her from the side like a wolf, or a truck, or a saber-toothed lion.

Hit her so hard that they both flew through the glass of a shop, and the sounds were nightmare—screeching and yowling, weird plastic torque and a howl that could have come from any damn thing, Stranger or Flesh alike.

No siren sang in response to that destruction, which in itself was bizarre, but I had no time to consider. I ran up, gasping, feeling the limitations of a body I did not understand at all, and found—

The Sasha-mass of flesh boiling and bubbling like smoke, battling some unspeakable thing in a shape I could almost identify, a creature I almost knew, which filled me with instinctive fear because, whatever it was, it was just a little wrong, and within it, Nikola wielded her disconnected limbs like clubs.

She hit, and the mountain of flesh that was Sasha bled, and though it did not seem to slow her down, it hurt .

She’d hurt her , hurt Sasha , and did it with joy.

I would not permit. “Stop!” I roared, command in my voice, a weird echo I couldn’t explain and felt vibrating through my entire form, and the word cast forth from me with physical effect and swept before me like a wave.

Pieces of glass and carnage whipped up as if in a gust of tornadic wind, violent and concentrated. Nikola recoiled from my cry as if I’d somehow smacked her with an enormous glove.

Sasha shuddered, her form not quite returning to familiar and beloved woman.

Nikola fixed her gaze on me, and I knew. We both knew. She hated me, on a level I couldn’t begin to comprehend, and I knew she’d decided this was it. I wouldn’t let her leave. She wouldn’t let me. She would die here, or I would.

She lunged.

Sasha tackled her from behind (neither of them had mass in the way understood, both a surging bulge of fear converging in will, affecting the physical world, but not of it), and slowed her enough for me to… react.

To…

Do something.

To fill with a thing I did not understand, to channel the helplessness and rage and other feelings I’d ignored and pushed down and denied, to feel the truth of what I spoke even as I spoke it, and I said these words with full knowledge of what they would do, and at the same time, absolute and puerile ignorance: “No.”

And with this word, I denied her.

Denied her right, denied her future. Denied her further chances to change her ways, to alter paths, to do anything other than shatter on the limit of my anger.

Nikola blew apart. Exploded. Slammed into me and the streetlights and the goods in this electronics shop and Sasha, and knocked me over and cracked the street and sent the fire hydrants shrieking water into the sky, and made the city shake and the earth sing and caught the attention of

Caught the

Caught the attention

Something looking at me, something seeing me , something I’d disrupted, something too big to understand that turned toward me at the speed of galaxies, and I—

Sasha stood over me, looking normal, though her hair was a mess and had bits of glass in it. “Jon?” she said softly. “Hey. Hey, there you are. Look at me, Jon. Come on.”

Oh. I was on the ground.

Still no sirens, but for this place, it was awfully noisy: there were voices, and the sound of water being pumped over crackling fire.

I hurt. So much. “What…”

“Martin’s on his way,” said Sasha softly. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” I said like an idiot.

“Maybe what just happened?” she suggested.

A debrief. She desperately needed one, not just for her own sake. Terrible things had happened here, and she needed to know I was innocent. “Saw her,” I managed. “Offered a cigarette. Like the… the… angler fish.”

“I remember the angler fish,” she said, soothing. “What happened?”

“Confronted. She ran. I texted you, tried to keep up.”

“And what happened then, Jon?” she said evenly. “What happened while we were fighting?”

Something absolutely terrifying that no one else in this world could do and I did not at all understand.

Fuck.

Lie?

I felt the lack of that ability right now. I couldn't lie, not seeing like this. I saw her, saw the fire, saw the people fighting the fire. Saw the reporters, saw the news, saw distant people lighting up as if touched with some current as they learned of the weird incident here.

I saw too much, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t turn it off . “I…”

“Just try,” she said softly.

Too many people. Too many emotions. Dreams and hopes and fears, lusts and disgusts and rages. Too many, flooding me, turning my tongue back into to eyes.

My own fears joined the world's. What would happen if I told her I didn’t know? Was I about to be locked up like the other Nikola? Would Sasha try to kill me? To help me? Was I going to lose my freedom? Would Manuela dissect me like a bug? I couldn’t make my tongue work.

“Let me help,” said Jonah Magnus, kneeling beside her. “He’s overwhelmed. Seeing too much. We called it inebrians cernentia—intoxicating visions.”

The children of parents who heard the news and feared some political rebellion and how it could affect their jobs and their lives, the police who suspected supernatural bullshit but had no way to verify or defend and had to pretend it wasn't weird, the—

She gave him a stern look. “Jonah, if you mess this up, you ruin all the progress you’ve made. You know that, don’t you?”

The conspiracy theorists who wondered if this was tied to Them, the foreign spies who parsed the official report of a gas leak and refrained from opinion until they knew more, the—

“Oh, of course,” said Jonah happily. “I would never harm him. You ought to know that.”

“Well, fine,” said Sasha. “Give it a try, then.”

Wait, what was happening?

Jonah smiled down at me, absolutely beatific; though clean-shaven, he’d kept his hair long enough to fall in those loose, golden curls. In a simple white t-shirt and jeans, he looked so damn normal . He’d catch a glance, perhaps, for being pretty, for being mildly cherubic in spite of a torso now revealed to be suspiciously wiry with muscle, but one would never know, looking at him, that he was one of the wickedest humans who had ever lived.

My own fear spiked.

“Oh, no, not that,” he said, his eyes widening. “No, no—don’t be afraid of me. Never of me. I adore you.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” I slurred.

“This will,” he promised, and—

We saw?

My vision, in my mind, briefly split, all those lives and people and homes, all those opinions and broadcasts and feelings, the murmur of conversations and spike of emotional concern, all of it split , came apart neatly as if the glue had failed, and…

Relief.

I made a small sound, feeling as though I swam up from the bottom of a well. Getting better, feeling lighter, less overwhelmed.

Feeling… more me.

I stared at him.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” he said softly, eyes lidded, unblinking.

BROTHERS , the Eye chirped at me wordlessly.

Dear lord, get me out of here. I tried to sit up and groaned; my side felt… really awful. Burning and sharp and terrible.

“Easy,” said Sasha. “You’ve been impaled.”

“I what?” I blurted, looking down. Oh. Oh, I… lay on some kind of rubble with rebar sticking out of it? Out of me? Right through my side? Oh, I… oh. “That’s not good,” I said in a high, weak voice.

“Shhh. You’re all right. You don’t even have organs , Jon.”

“It hurts!” I said, because it should hurt, shouldn’t it, because I’d done something awful , and I didn’t even know what, and it was frightening, and—

“It’s all right, Jon,” Jonah purred. “Breathe—not that you need to, of course, but psychologically, it helps. You’re all right.”

“But it hurts,” I said like a stupid child.

“So see it,” he said. “See yourself free of it. See it gone, dissolved, turned to something so sweetly organic it cannot hurt you or the environment. See yourself free, Jon, because you can. ”

What was—

Why—

Why did his words matter?

I was angry over it, offended, even as what he said came true, because I understood (in a vague way I doubted I’d be able to repeat with ease) what he was saying, and freed myself from the horrible thing in my side.

It melted into sugar, into water, into nothing that mattered at all. Some laser-like awareness I hadn’t even noticed eased. Relief. Like stepping into shade, after standing in hot sun.

But I couldn’t quite envision being healed. I couldn’t see this body, couldn’t see myself, and so could not see the hole in my side closing. Now, it just hurt. I cried out.

“Jon!” Martin cried, running toward us, and anyone in his way was moved aside as if some unseen wave carried them. He fell to his knees beside us, practically showing Sasha away, and pulled me into his arms.

It hurt. It really hurt. I tried not to cry out.

“He’s wounded, Martin,” said Sasha. “But I think he’ll be all right.”

“This is my fault,” said Martin, and pressed his face to my head. “Oh, gods. Jon. I’m so sorry. I did this.”

“You didn’t do this,” I mumbled, and clutched his shirt. My hands shook. “I did this. Broke my promise to run.”

“I’m fairly sure the weird thing I just fought did this?” said Sasha. “No blame here.”

“No,” purred Jonah, who was watching me, who had not blinked, whose gaze held a sweetness I could not ignore, and it made me want to cry and I didn’t even know why. “No blame.”

Martin did a double-take. “What the hell are you doing out?”

“Therapy!” said Jonah with a bright smile.

“I think I’m passing out,” I told Martin, because these things should be communicated.

“Fascinating,” murmured Jonah.

“Sasha,” said Martin evenly. “I need a reason, right now, not to fucking drown something.”

“Let’s talk about it at the clinic, all right?” she said cheerfully, and stood.

Martin stood as well, holding me.

I felt drugged. Sluggish. Safe, with him. “Love you.”

Martin’s eyes filled. “I love you. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“This wasn’t you.” He needed to know. He shouldn’t feel guilty for this. “Broke my promise. I chased her.”

“I shouldn't have… what was I even thinking? What did I do?” he murmured. “Oh, gods. Jon, I’m so sorry.” Tears slid down his face now, dripping on to me, and his heart ached, pounded , and I could feel it, because I knew him.

No. No, I… I didn’t want him to feel this way. He shouldn’t be squashed with guilt, weighed down, his heart aching in his chest. Not my Martin. I couldn’t quite lift my hand to touch his face. “Not your fault.”

Sasha was talking to someone (police, I knew ), getting us out of here without having to make a report or anything, and they knew who she was, and she had power over them somehow (What? How?), and they were going to let her go, and I didn’t care.

Martin. Martin ached.

I couldn’t let Martin ache.

The Eye whispered, and I knew what to do. “All is forgiven, my love,” I whispered, too.

And the world

Changed.

The tiniest tremor, the shiver of reality shaking snow off its shoulders.

Jonah gasped.

“Oh,” said Martin, and stared at me. His eyes grew wide. “Oh,” he said again, more firmly, and frowned.

He looked toward Sasha, and I didn’t understand. It was not a good look. It was… angry.

Then he shook his head as though discarding whatever that had been, and looked back at me. “You’re going to be all right. I’m carrying you to her hospital.”

“All right.” As if I had any problems with this. The pain was terrible; but the relief…

Jonah had… shuttered it all, somehow. Done, really, what I’d hoped Gerry would do: he’d shared the load.

I hadn’t even realized how much I was carrying. “I’m going to sleep now,” I murmured, because Martin had me, and I was safe.

“Incredible,” Jonah whispered. “Beautiful.”

Then Martin began to describe some truly inventive ways for him to violate members of his own family, and I let myself drift to sleep.

#tma #tma fic #tma au #tma spoilers #magnus monsterverse #jonathan sims #nikola orsinov #jonah magnus #sasha james #martin blackwod #jmart #jonmartin #teaholding

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noodyl-blasstal · 2 years

Note

I’m coming to terms with the fact that I might like you enough to play this stupid board game you’ve been explaining the rules to for twenty-eight minutes now. And god save me, I listened to all of it??? (i'm pretty sure it's 24?) and blupjeans?? thankie !!

Thank you very much for this one! Shout out to Goosebumps: One Day at Horrorland.

Prompt from @juicywritinghoard Prompts for Fun and Profit which can be found by clicking here.

Barry was attaching the ‘Giant Pond Horror’ to a turntable as he spoke enthusiastically, trying not to gesture too wildly and repeat the ferris wheel incident. Wait, no, the ‘Wheel of Fear’ incident. Lup kicked herself mentally for remembering this detail, that was at least 10 minutes ago. She should not have memorised the names of the components of this dorky game, and she definitely shouldn’t know that Barry needed the Alligator Pond Dialler right now. She handed it over all the same. Barry broke his stride to thank her, and clipped it into place.

“Okay, so just the Doom Slide left to go, we’re almost ready!” Barry grabbed a cardboard skull outline and waved it in her direction while making vaguely spooky noises. Lup giggled, then mentally berated herself for encouraging him.

Barry put the skull down and started pushing the cardboard slide together. “So I’ve already explained that you have to get the ticket cards, right?” He asked. Lup nodded, more eagerly than she’d ever admit.

“Right, well you also need to get your ride tokens to show you’ve been on them. Oh, and there’s some weird gender stuff, but I changed it to “punk” and “goth” because, you know, I was going through a phase. So anyway, you move one of your people depending on the spinner, but we can go through that a bit more when we’re actually playing, I think it’s easier to explain when you’re actually doing it. You can move any direction, but you can’t double back in the same turn, and when you’re on Horror Bridge or the Doom Slide you can only go forward.” He clipped the last pieces of the slide into place and secured it to the board, adding the big skull at the top.

“Wait, you had a goth phase? Barold! I need the photos!!” Lup was overjoyed. There was no reply. “... a punk phase?” She prodded. Barry stared hard at the wall above her shoulder.

“Anyway… There’s a try again space if you get knocked off,” he ploughed on valiantly.

“Goth Barryyyyyyy” Lup teased, under her breath.

“Oh, if you spin a 2 you can start on a ride!” Barry was clearly grasping for other things to say now and Lup felt a bit guilty. She decided that kindness was more necessary than rowdiness right now (she’d find the pictures later…) Lup nodded encouragingly, and he was off again, it was adorable.

“...blank spaces mean nothing, nice and simple!” Barry chuckled to himself, the dork. “If you get one of the ones with a G on it, you get to take a card. We’ll go through them as we go as well, although I know I’ve talked a bit about what they do.”

Barry looked so happy that Lup couldn’t help but smile. It was infectious. Barry was always so shy, so to hear him talk about this so passionately was lovely. She didn’t realise how much he could light up - he forgot to hold himself as stiffly as usual, and a smile was plastered across his face. No holding back. There were no barriers here, and she loved it.

There was no denying that Lup had only agreed to this because she felt bad. Taako had snorted and immediately dismissed it when Barry proposed playing a board game. Magnus and Merle had jumped ship as soon as Taako announced he was going out instead. But the way Barry’s shoulders slumped, and the look of dejection on his face? It had been enough to make her dive in and offer to play without considering that it meant Paying Attention to Extensive Instructions (which was usually her least favourite hobby).

“Only one person at a time on Doom Slide or Horror Bridge…” Barry tapped his chin, trying to work out if there was anything else to tell her. “... and this is where you get to release the skulls!” He added.

“Wait, I get to what now?” Lup asked, interest very much piqued.

“...and if you can hit someone hard enough with the Giant Pond Horror that they go into the other Horror’s mouth then some other stuff happens, but we’ll get to that when we’re going.” Barry continued.

“I get to punt you off a bridge into a hell beast’s mouth?” Lup asked, starting to get Barold’s enthusiasm. “...and throw skulls at you?” She was smiling just as enthusiastically now.

“Only if you have a certain card and I’m on the Horror Bridge or the Doom Slide.” Replied Barry, sounding more cautious now. He suddenly paused and she saw him clam up again, smile locking itself down. She saw the moment when the doubt overtook him and the backpedalling began immediately. “Sorry Lup, I’ve probably gone on a bit too much here, we don’t have to play.” Barry flushed a deep shade of red and looked frantically around the room. “We could, er, we could watch a movie, or you can go find Taako and the others? Yeah, you’d probably rather be at the bar, right? Sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you here.” Barry was stammering now, she could practically feel the panic radiating off him. Oh no. Lup didn’t want this, she didn’t want Barry to feel like he was a joke, or that she was pitying him. Sure, maybe she agreed because of pity, but he’d been talking about this game for the last (Lup surreptitiously checked the clock,) twenty eight minutes, and she’d listened to every word. He made it sound so interesting that she was actually excited to play? She wasn’t exactly sure when that happened, but Barry was endearing - his enthusiasm was infectious, and gods help her, she wanted to smack his goth into a hell beast with a Giant Pond Horror.

“Barold,” Lup placed a hand firmly on his shoulder and looked at him until he stopped apologising. “I’m here because I want to be here. Chagirl doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to, and right now, she wants to kill your goth ass with a fucktonne of skulls on the Doom Slide. Let’s go!”

Barry stared at her for a minute, searching her face for some hint of a lie. He didn’t find it. “Okay Lup, let’s go.” He repeated, solemnly, handing her some tiny cardboard figures.

#Being enthusiastic about things is really difficult when you're not sure if you're boring people or not #Projecting? Never!#Blupjeans #Barry Bluejeans #Lup #Lup Taaco #The Adventure Zone #TAZ fic #TAZ Balance #Balance #Noodyl Writes

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bonkedbees · 11 months

Note

Why is your only post michael

How far back should it go? To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have alwaysbeen? Time is difficult to form. Michael Shelley, though, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.

When he was in school, he lost a friend to something like me. His friend was named Ryan, but those in power simply called him schizophrenic. I don’t know if he was, but it doesn’t matter. He was so dreadfully afraid his world wasn’t real that to make it so was almost nothing. Michael was there when he was taken; he never got over what he saw. Or didn’t see. After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson. The Archivist.

Poor Michael. He had been on trips for the Institute before. Conferences, investigations, Gertrude had made sure that all her assistants were ready. That none of them would be suspicious if they were told they were going abroad for work. So there was no doubt in his mind, no concern, when she told him that they were travelling to Russia. Perhaps if he’d have stopped to look up their destination, he might have discovered there was no such place as Zemlya Sannikova, but he did not. He trusted her.

Even when they arrived in Dikson, at the edge of the Kara Sea, and they were picked up by a quiet sea captain called Peter Lukas… Even then he trusted her. They travelled north, through cold far more bitter than any Michael had even conceived possible. And do you know what he worried about? [Giggles] He… worried about Gertrude Robinson. About how this poor old woman might cope with the chill. But now she was like iron, and walked with a purpose that Michael had never before seen in her. The water turned to ice as the Arctic approached, and Gertrude’s eyes turned cold.

And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me. I use the word ‘apotheosis’ not because it is correct, but because I can only show you its truth when we are within the passages themselves.

And this is what Michael and Gertrude found when they set foot on Sannikov Land, which does not exist and never has. It was warm, and feeling its reassurance beneath his feet was the last time poor, doomed Michael knew comfort. They walked through the green jungle of that forever-elusive polar island, and up the gentle mountains that can never have a name. And at the top, they found us through our spiralling laughter. And they saw us in all of our glory.

But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. She did not… hesitate. She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt. She stared into us carefully, her eyes scanning for something that was my heart. Looking for my door. And she found it.

Perhaps I should have realised what was happening; seen those two lonely figures approaching me, but I cannot tell you the existential joys of truly… becoming. Of an entireness finally crossing the threshold into your self. So ecstatic was my completeness, I did not even hear my own door creak open. Because Gertrude had told Michael how he could stop us. She told him to walk through a door. And even then, with so much of his mind shut down in panic and terror, he trusted her. And he went inside, closing the door behind him.

Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again. And somehow, Gertrude Robinson was back on that boat before Sannikov Land once again never existed.

And all that was left was me. Michael. [Giggles] My very existence tied to my pointlessness. Wearing my failure as the very fabric of my being. Reduced once again to feeding on the unsuspecting and confused. That is who I am.

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khaleesiofalicante · 2 years

Note

“Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place.”— Robert Brault

I just know shadow demons are gonna show up, I feel it in my bones!!!! And maybe even Lucifer...

For fucks sake girl, just talk to your girlfriend!!!

“Nicolas has a crush on Anjali,” Max giggled.

“Thank you, Max, for demonstrating the kind of dumbfuckery I want to avoid,” Anjali glared at him.

I love my queen so much😂😂

“Why can’t we just, ya know…” Lexi said carefully and pointed at her sword.

Max gave her a disbelieving look. What? Someone had to say it!

No, no... I firmly support this option!!!

Magnus being so excited is so fucking funny omfg jshdjdkdk

I KNEW IT!!! I REMEMBERED YOU POSTING YOUR FAN CAST FOR NICO AND HIM BEING A KID AND ME WONDERING IF THAT WAS THE NICO AND IT WAS!! I'm so smart😎

Then why the fuck are they called shadow hunters? They should probably change the name of their race. They don’t deserve it.

She is so pissed off and I honestly can't blame her....

Still a little confused about all the ley lines thing but we have Gigi and Roman, so we are in safe hands 😎

“Marcus did it!” Lexi argued.

“He did, didn’t he?” Nicolas said, his voice troubled. “Then perhaps you all shouldn’t underestimate him."

Yes, he is terrifying!! Thank you, Nico!!

Why is the idea of Max not being able to use his magic so scary???

Nicolas looked at him. Properly. “Keep an eye on your family." That is so fucking ominous, vague and creepy, thank you so much 🙂

God, David is an idiot if he thinks Max doesn't think David is the best person in the whole world jsjsjsjj

I enjoy drunk David in every universe 😂

“And even if she wants Max as you said and even if Max finds her hot, from what I know, and trust me I know a lot because your boyfriend is incapable of shutting up about you, I don’t think Max wants her back.”

Gabriel spilling FACTS!!!

Have I mentioned today that I love Gabriel??? Because I do😍😍

There is nothing scarier than watching your child get hurt,” David said quietly.

His eyes fell on his wrist.

The one with the faded agony rune.

There was nothing scarier than a parent who enjoys hurting you.

God, I hate that bastard so much🔪🔪

That scene with David and Max>>>>>

“Always,” Max grinned. “You’re so sexy and you’re pretty. I’d keep a picture of you in my wallet so I can look at it all the time.” This is everything I need!!! Let's keep it like that!!!🥺🥺🥺

I mean, Max gets turned on by the weirdest shit, but the point still stands tho!!!

I haven't thought about it that way but holy shit yes!! Many old people are plenty sexy😎

I love it when they are cute and communicate properly!!! Now, that is a good turn on...

No.

He wasn't that man. He will never be that man.

“I can’t ask you to do that,” David whispered. “So, I won’t.”

For one side, this is so healthy and I'm so glad he said that!!! For the other side, fuck Mallory 🙂

We all know they are all going to be dilfs....

Thank the angel for Anjali. Amen to that!!

“Yikes,” Rafael chuckled. “Jealous?”

“Meh,” dad said. “They make him put on clothes. I make him take them off.”

He is savage 😂😂

“Warlocks forgive, Rafe,” bapak had said. “But we don’t forget.” *added to favorite quotes*

I haven't mentioned today how great of a leader Rafael is😍😍

Everyone: freaking out, the shadow world is loosing it's magic, mundanes are scared, things are tense with everyone

Alec: *unimpressed* The shadow world it's always at risk, huh? Anyway, have I mentioned how much o love my HUSBAND 🥰🥰

“Why not?” Rafael asked – because he always thought too much about everything.

“Because when it comes to love, feeling is more important than thinking,” the man smiled. “Listen to your heart. Not just your head.”

*crying softly* this man is so wise 😭😭

Sometimes, even now, when he was with dad, it took Rafael a moment to realize that someone was talking to him. Not his dad. The mental image of Alec accidentally turning back and Rafael forgetting for a second it's for him makes me feel things😭😭

“Math? We have to do math now?” Rafael asked tiredly. “Haven’t we been through enough?” me everytime I have to do math

Wait!! I want to know what was that!!! What was in that document???

It’s what got him to wake up every morning.

Every morning, he would wake up because he was excited to love new pieces of her and let her love new pieces of him.

This man I'd so fucking in love it should be illegal kdvdkdjdk

And I thought it was going to be one of the other idiots who let Anjali know... Turns out it was this idiot himself 😂

These people are turned on by the weirdest things jdhsjdj is it a Lightwood-Bane thing???

Achilles as Inquisitor... Wow😍

“I understand if you don’t want to get married to me,” Anjali said. She didn’t look scared now. “This is my dream, Rafael. I’m not willing to compromise it. Not even for you.”

He didn't understand how she could say stuff

Don't you just love it when women?😍

“Y una cosa puedo jurar: yo, que me enamoré de tus alas, jamás te las voy a querer cortar.” I LITERALLY HAD TO SUPPRESS A SCREAM OMFG😭😭 THIS GODDAMN QUOTE!! WILL LIVE WITH ME FOREVER NOW😭😭

“It’s a 10/10,” she grinned. “On your knees, Santiago.” ok, yeah, I understand Rafael now...

“I don’t want to say anything at all. I want to live it. I want to live my life with you,” Rafael told her. "I want you to be my wife. But more than that, I want to be your husband. I want to be yours in every way possible. So, take me, amor. Make me yours."

“Alright then, Rafael Lightwood-Bane,” Anjali smiled and held out her hand. “Be mine.”

SCREAMING AND CRYING!! THEY ARE ENGAGED!! FINALLY 😭😭 MY POWER COUPLE ❤️❤️

Everytime I read Mallory's pov, it takes another year of my life

She is so obsessed with Max!! Pleas move on, he loves David!!!

Is this warlock the one that is causing the attacks??? And he poisoned David??? I don't know you but I hate you already 🔪

“I want Max to hate him,” Mallory noted, picking up one of Max's hoodies. It smelled just like him. Even now. Just like the ocean. “I want everyone to hate him. I want David to hate himself.” First of all, he could never hate David🥰, second of all, I hate you :)

"That’s why the nephilim fear it so much. Because they are scared of what they might see and feel underneath all that angel blood.” I hate when people I hate say something so deep smh

Ahhh Max is so stupid!!! What the fuck are you doing???? And you expect David not yo be jealous???

I need to wash my eyes with holy water after that kiss. Wtf???

Also, Marcus going to a party!! You better not ruin their night or else🔪🙂

David after finding about the Max x Mallory kiss (their ship name is just Mallory and that’s creepy)

#lbaf

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snake-eyed-truth · 14 days

Note

STATEMENT OF MICHAEL THE DISTORTION

How far back should it go? To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have always been? Time is difficult to form. Michael Shelley, though, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.

Even being what I am, I have rarely seen anyone so adept at distorting the truth as Gertrude Robinson. Michael was protective of the frail old woman he believed her to be. So… so delicate, so forgetful, yet gently wise. He cared for her. He trusted her. And she fed him to me. She made him me to destroy our transcendence. And she did not hesitate.Poor Michael. He had been on trips for the Institute before. Conferences, investigations, Gertrude had made sure that all her assistants were ready. That none of them would be suspicious if they were told they were going abroad for work. So there was no doubt in his mind, no concern, when she told him that they were travelling to Russia. Perhaps if he’d have stopped to look up their destination, he might have discovered there was no such place as Zemlya Sannikova, but he did not. He trusted her.

Then, at last, he began to be afraid. He asked her where they were going and was told again: Zemlya Sannikova. Sannikov Land. There was a great evil, she said, and Michael was going to help her fight it. Am I evil, Archivist? Is a thing evil when it simply obeys its own nature? When it embodies its nature? When that nature is created by those which revile it? Perhaps Gertrude believed so. Michael certainly did. He believed everything she told him.And it was me they sought to stop. Me and the others of It-Is-Not-What-It-Is. Our Great Twisting. The-Worker-of-Clay had laboured for decades on that contorted, impossible edifice of doors… and stairs… and falsehoods… and smiles. A thousand staring morsels stood, and not one of them believed themselves sane to look upon it. And in the centre, the door that would open to all the places that were never there, was me. I use the word ‘apotheosis’ not because it is correct, but because I can only show you its truth when we are within the passages themselves.

Michael did not go mad, though no words you could have said would have convinced him otherwise. The mind does not shatter, Archivist. It is soft and malleable. It bends and twists and returns to what it was, though what you see and feel may leave their mark upon it. If Michael thought he had lost his mind, it was only because what he saw with crystal clarity was simply not something that could be real.But Gertrude Robinson did not waver. She did not… hesitate. She gave no indication that she saw anything more or less than was expected. Hers was not a mind that left room for doubt. She stared into us carefully, her eyes scanning for something that was my heart. Looking for my door. And she found it.

But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me.Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again. And somehow, Gertrude Robinson was back on that boat before Sannikov Land once again never existed.

is this the magnus archives??? Idk, I haven't dove too deep into that yet.

Ooc // @therealsubspace Y O U-

#waddya want? // scythe ic #who? // anons

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crossroadsnumber1doctor · 16 days

Note

STATEMENT OF MICHAEL THE DISTORTION. CONDENSED TO FIT

How far back should it go? To the beginning of me? Centuries? Millennia? How do you define the start of your being when in some ways you have always been? Time is difficult to form. Michael Shelley, though, he is easier to keep track of. He was born. He was pointless. And he should have died. But before that could happen, he went to work for the Magnus Institute – that ivory tower, keeping its prisoners ignorant in pursuit of… knowledge. [Giggles] A dungeon full of idiot watchers. And Michael Shelley was no exception.

But Gertrude Robinson had given poor, disposable Michael one more thing before sending him to me. She had given him a map. I couldn’t say how she would have gotten such a thing, or if she somehow made it. And yet it was a map. A map to me. It made no sense, lines overlapping and inverting, but once within, Michael knew which turns to make, which doors to open, which mirrors to shatter. Until he became me. Even sharper than the joy of becoming is the agony of being opened and remade. To have your who torn bloody from your what, and another crudely lashed into its place. To become Michael. And to do so at such a crucial point in our Twisting, in our becoming, well of course it destroyed it. The impossible altar collapsed. The-Worker-of-Clay tore out his veins to dissolve himself in crimson mud. The others of us were cast to all the places that aren’t; some have still not found their way out again. And somehow, Gertrude Robinson was back on that boat before Sannikov Land once again never existed.

He seems.. Really confused.

#AHY ARE YOU SENDING THE ENTIRE MAGNUS ARCHIVES IN MY INBOX HASGDJAD 😭😭😭😭😭#medkit phighting #phighting!#phighting rp #phighting ask blog #rp blog #ask blog #parody blog

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alec-not-alright-wood · 2 years

Text

It’s been a long, long time (A TMI gang fanfic)

[fluff, 2731 words]

“A little higher on the right, Magnus.“

Blue sparks flew through the air as the warlock followed the direction from Clary Fairchild, who ran around the hall with two strings of fairy lights.

“Like this, biscuit?”

Clary looked over to him and a warm and brilliant smile showed on her face.

“It’s perfect, Magnus. Speaking of biscuits, Jace and Alec are over in the kitchen. Would you check how the cookies are doing for me, please?”

“Of course, dear.”, Magnus said and shortly rested his gaze on the redhead before walking out of the otherwise rather empty trainings room.

Since Clary and Jace took over the New York Institute, things have been changing.

They both wanted to make the Institute a more inclusive and warm place, that can be called a home. Home gained a lot of different definitions for Clary in the last years, from what Magnus could figure. Both her and Jace had felt like they belonged somewhere else, to Valentine, to the Mundane world and many other places. When he had tea-time with Clary, she told him that Jace and her had talked about the past and shown each other things that made them feel at home.

For Clary, Christmas had been a huge factor. Opening presents around the Christmas tree, singing soppy songs and drinking eggnog were hers and Jocelyns traditions.

Jace and Clary then went on to the idea of a huge Christmas celebration on the 27th December with all their loved ones and after they visited Tessa in Cirenworth, who told them about the balls she used to organize at the London Institute, they were firmly convinced to plan a formal dance with a Christmas theme in their own Institute.

As a party planner with quite the experiences, Magnus found this to be a wonderful idea. And he didn’t hesitate with helping Clary and Jace. It was great to see all his friends- his family to finally live the happy end they had always deserved.

“Baking is an art, not a science, Alec.”

“If that were true, there wouldn’t be instructions.”

Muffled talking was audible from the Institute’s kitchen and Magnus chuckled as he recognized the voices. He opened the door.

“Don’t even try to interrupt him, he’s a quite stern believer in recipes.”, he said to Jace and walked over to Alec, putting his arms around his husband.

“Hey, I’m his parabatai, I know him longer than you. I lived through his manic cooking phase.”

Magnus squinted at Alec, who ducked his head.

“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”

The warlock laughed and kissed Alec, who pulled him in. Shortly after, a loud cough rose in the room.

“Excuse me, no making out in my kitchen! The only thing we’re making here today is cookies.”, Jace threatened the couple with his wooden spoon and then nodded into another direction.

“Cookies and gingerbread houses.”

“Don’t worry, Jace, I’m totally concentrated. Wither thou bakest, I will bake.”, Alec rolled his eyes at Magnus and joined the other again, selecting a new cookie cutter.

“You can tell Clary that were perfectly in time. Isabelle, Lily and Maia are still handing out all the invitations and they said they’ll bring us something from Taki’s for our lunch.”

Jace whispered something to Alec, who suppressed a sudden giggle.

“What is it?”, Magnus asked and Alec looked up, a brilliant smile on his face. So many smiles on so many faces. Magnus could get used to it.

“Nothing, just… I love you.”

Magnus grinned back at him: “I love you too, archer who never misses and baker who over-measures.”

“Save the sweets for the cookie dough.”, Jace groaned and threw a hand of flour in his parabatai’s face. Magnus decided to leave the fighting and cleaning up to them and made his way back to the trainings room.

“You lied to me!“

“I had to, Alec, there was no other way!”

“You could’ve lost everything, Izzy. We could’ve lost everything!”

“I sacrificed myself for all of you. Grasp the big picture, idiot!”

“I knew that you both were Werewolves!”, Jace screamed and threw his cards on the floor.

“I was the Witch. How convenient.”, Magnus revealed with a shrug and laid his card on the desk.

Alec and Izzy both slammed their Werewolf cards next to each other and after a while, Clary’s card joined them with a sigh from the redhead.

“Why am I always the Crying Girl? I don’t even know why they founded that role.”

Simon, who was already killed in the first round, fiddled with the Civilist card in his hand.

“Betrayed by my own girlfriend. How could you?”, he pointed a finger at Isabelle and fainted theatrically. The woman just chuckled and patted him on the back. Maia, who sat next to her, an arm around Bat, laughed and showed everyone her Archer card.

“Et tu, Brute?”, Simon asked her and Maia just shrugged playfully and winked at him.

“Every archer misses once in a while, my friend.”

“Everyone but mine.”, Magnus said proudly. Alec rolled his eyes fondly and intertwined their fingers.

“This was fun.”, Jace said, “Did you play this often when you were kids?”

Simon and Clary grinned at each other.

“We played it in school like all the time.”, Clary explained and leaned onto Jace’s shoulder, who played with her hair by stroking and braiding it.

“We did too. I was the Werewolf most of the time. But I think my life took that role a little bit too seriously.”, Maia noted and everyone laughed.

“You’re a very committed player, love.”, Bat told her and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. Maia grinned at him: “I know.”

“I should’ve brought Eliott with me.”, Lily sighed and showed a small smile, as Alec’s worried eyes rested on her. His husband gave Magnus an urgent look. Magnus nodded and they both changed seating places and joined the vampire. Alec squeezed himself next to her on the chair and Magnus sat on the floor, his head resting on Alec’s thigh.

“This is crazy. After all this time, all this pain, all this war, we’re sitting here. We’re playing games and we’re planning parties, it’s just-“

“-all very unfamiliar.”, Izzy ended Simon’s sentence and gripped his hand. Magnus knew who they were both thinking of. He could see it in their eyes. They were right. He would’ve loved this game.

“We all changed so much. And we’re still changing. I mean, look at us! Alec and Magnus are married and have kids now, Izzy and Simon found each other again after all this time, and I- I finally found out what love really is. What it feels like to love. And what it feels like to be loved.”, Jace said.

They all turned to him, a little surprised, yet with warm expressions on their faces.

“I think Valentine just turned in his nonexistent grave.”, Simon mentioned and smiled at Jace. Magnus noticed a sense of pride in his face. Jace scoffed and picked up his hot chocolate from the table.

“To us, whose existence alone pisses of Valentine!”

They all agreed and laughed while raising their cups. Magnus looked up and saw Alec, who was talking to Lily about a painting their youngest son Max had made for them this morning.

He smiled and closed his eyes, resting right there surrounded by his loved ones, Alec’s hand stroking through his dark strands. Yes, he could get used to that.

“The ball tomorrow will be a total success.”, he heard Izzy say before he slowly drifted off to sleep.

“I feel weird.”, Simon said and fiddled at his crooked tie. Magnus just sighed and slapped Simon’s hands to gain access to the ‘something’ around his neck.

“Trust me, Sheldon, Isabelle will love it.”

“I guess you’re right, Agnes.”, Simon replied dryly and Magnus scoffed before he patted the other’s tie one more time. He stepped back and examines his work. Maia stood next to them, fixing her own black tie she wore to go with her black suit.

“Guys, the guests are here.”, a voice raised from behind the door. Magnus opened it and smiled at Clary, who seemed a little stressed out.

“Hello biscuit, don’t worry, I already took over your paraba-to-do’s and forced Simon into this suit.”, he reported proudly and stepped aside. Clary gasped and ran over to Simon, who hugged her tightly.

“I’m ready, Fray.”, he said and let himself let pull out of the room by Clary.

Before they ran away, Clary turned to Magnus and whispered: “By the way, Alec needs your help with something in his old room.”

She waved Maia over to her and hooked her arm around the other girl’s and the three of them ran off together. Magnus looked in the mirror again, checking his white suit with decorated with silver gleaming sequins, who formed multiple swirly patterns all over his jacket, before he went down the hallways towards Alexander.

“Alec? Can I come in?”, Magnus asked and shortly was let in by Alec himself, who looked quite nervous. Lily also was in the room wearing a slim fit dress with a spider web pattern.

It definitely was a contrast to Alexander’s sky blue suit over a white undershirt.

“You know that there’s something like shirts, right?”

“Yes, but the one I wanted to wear today got used by Max as a canvas for his new art project.”

Magnus sighed fondly and conjured up a white shirt with patterned cufflinks.

“Trust me, they’ll go with your outfit.”, he said to Alec and send him to the bathroom.

“Where are Max and Rafe by the way?”, Lily asked Magnus while they were both waiting for his husband to get ready.

“Tessa’s other half and her son are watching them. Maybe we’ll get some picture updates, although we all have to let him get accustomed to technology.”, he told her and grinned softly. He was from another timeline after all.

“And here’s to me thinking Brother Snackariah’s pretty face would show up.”, Lily sighed and raised her imaginary glass.

“I’ll leave you to it though.”, she said and winked at him on her way out of the room.

“Ok, I’m done, how- where’s Lily?“

Alec stood in the doorway to the bathroom, looking like art, a beautiful yet moving painting Magnus wanted to keep forever. Framed on his wall, capturing the moment and the memories.

“Is it that bad?”, Alec asked now, dragging Magnus out of his daydream.

“Oh Alec, my love, my all, you look stunning.”, Magnus assured him and the Shadowhunter smiled. His brilliant smile. Ah, there it was again, Magnus thought.

“Wait,”, Magnus looked at Alec’s neck and gasped, “is that one if my necklaces?”

A gleaming silver chain with a small arrow adorned the space between the opened buttons.

“It kinda spoke to me, you know.”, Alec said cheekily and held out a hand. Magnus laced their fingers together and they both walked over to the party.

The trainings room looked stunning. Clary really planned every aspect of the hall to its full potential. She stood in the middle of the room, beautiful in her green jumpsuit, which complimented her eyes, next to Isabelle and-

“Emma, Julian.”, Alec said and walked over to them. The couple looked up and greeted both of them with a bright smile. They were happy now, after all that has happened with the curse, Magnus realized. Something about Julian seemed less tense, less exhausted. He didn’t look like a child, which has to carry all the burdens of this world. Like a child, which didn’t have the childhood it deserved. Julian laughed at a joke the woman to his right made. A woman with blonde locks and a golden dress. Emma Carstairs. She brought him peace. A warrior bringing someone peace. Magnus knew that from somewhere.

He smiled at both of them and returned his gaze to Alec, who gratulated them on, apparently, gaining access to an old manor of the Blackthorns. He suddenly felt a hand on his arm and turned around to look into grey eyes and a familiar face. Ty Blackthorn.

“Hello Magnus.”

“Tiberius! It’s nice to see you again. How is the scholomance?”, he asked and gave the boy a friendly grin.

“It’s been… interesting. I’m currently working on a project concerning the radiations of metamorphic creatures with a friend of mine. Irene has been growing a lot and Li- well another friend of mine has helped me on some private studies.”

“I’m glad that you’re liking it there, Ty.”

“Me too,”, he said and looked on the floor, as if he choose his next words wisely, “I’ve been wondering: Is Tessa’s family here tonight?”

“Kit is watching over Max, Rafe and Mina. I’m sorry, Tiberius.”, Magnus said with a sad tone to his voice. Ty’s expression changed, but he just shrugged with his shoulders.

“Ok. I’ll see you around, Magnus.”, he said and walked away to the buffet. Poor kid, Magnus thought, but he didn’t want to pressure Ty to say anything. He learned with his time of talking to Shadowhunters that they’ll open up when they’re ready. No reason to rush it.

“Simon! You look so handsome.”, he heard from over the room and turned to the right, where Isabelle was examining her boyfriend.

“Called it.”, he shouted and earned a blown ‘Thank you’-kiss from his husband’s sister.

“Good evening and Merry Christmas, everybody!”

A loud voice went through the speakers placed above their heads. Bat Velasquez agreed to do the musical program for tonight.

“First of all, a big thank you to Clary Fairchild and Jace Herondale, who made this evening possible in the first place!”

Loud cheers raised in the room. Clary and Jace waved at everyone and smiled. Brilliant smiles. There they were again.

“And thank you to my girlfriend Maia Roberts, who carried my DJ desk after a car accident the. Whole. Way. to the Institute. You’re a real one, babe, that’s why the first song is only for you.”

Maia blew him a kiss and laughed when “Carol of the Bells” started to play. Lily pulled her to the middle of the room and both of them started to dance.

“As the girlfriend of a DJ, you learn to dance to everything.”, she shouted. “Bat once wanted us to dance to his police siren remix.”

Magnus, Alec, Izzy, Simon, Clary, Emma and Julian joined them and they all started to form a row for a line dance. Clary and Emma were holding each others hand and telling some of the latest tea here in the surroundings, while Julian listened to Simon’s tale of his old band.

The others were just laughing, giggling and loosing themselves in the music. They danced like that for three more songs. After “Let’s Groove Tonight”, everyone applauded before Bat took the microphone again.

“The next piece is for all the loving couples in this room. The ones who have been in love for a long time and for the ones experiencing this whole feeling for the first time. And for all my fellow Marvel fans.”

“Don’t worry, Lily, I have plenty of Jazz songs up here.”, Bat added and pointed at Lily, who gave him a casual salute. “It’s been a long time” started to play.

“Hey, handsome. Wanna dance?”

Alec held out his hand again. And he smiled. That goddamn smile.

“Handsome?”

“I was trying something out.”, he said and rolled his eyes. Magnus decided that this was enough torture and took his husband’s hand.

And before he knew it, Alec and him were swaying around the room. Magnus closed his eyes and gave himself to the feeling. The feeling of being lead, of being held up, of being cared about. He embraced the feeling and it flourished around him. Deep blue sparks, like his magic.

They danced and fought and formed their own choreography. A spectacle of the storm that seized his heart whenever Alexander Gideon Lightwood was around.

“What are you thinking about?”, he heard Alec whisper in his ears.

“I’m just so happy.”, he said and buried his face in Alec’s shoulder.

“I’m happy too.”, the Shadowhunter replied.

And then they were dancing again. Just them. Not the Consul and the High Warlock, only Alec Lightwood-Bane and Magnus Lightwood-Bane.

#back with my shit #but like just fluff?? hello?.?#no angst omfg #didn’t know i was capable of that #tmi gang #malec #clace #sizzy #maia x bat #the mortal instruments #the shadowhunter chronicles #tmi fanfic

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Note

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling.

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

#tma #tma fanfic #jmart #timsasha #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonmartin #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #cw alcohol #new years eve #new years eve party

116 notes · View notes

august-anon · 3 years

Note

You know i gotta hop in on that Taakitz action!! Perhaps something with cold hands? Either them tickling Taako or Taako issuing retaliation tickles because Kravitz keeps sticking them on his warm body.

Admittedly at first I was like "when would this even be set because I thought his hands warmed up from the power of love" and THEN i remembered that there's at least a few months between the end of the last arc and that line at Carey and Killian's wedding, so there's a good time for this fic to take place lol. So they're dating, but there's no L-word just yet lol.

Also, thank you for the prompt, I loved it!

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Balance

Ship(s): Taakitz

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Taako/Ler!Kravitz (brief Ler!Taako/Lee!Kravitz)

Word Count: 1736 words

Summary: Taako would love nothing more than to cuddle close with his boyfriend. Unfortunately, the heat of the kitchen and the chill of Kravitz's hands don't quite mix. Kravitz doesn't intend to give up so easily.

[ao3 link]

------------------------

Taako smiled as he heard the front door open and close, but he didn’t move from his spot in the kitchen. He continued flitting between his pots and pans, preparing dinner, listening as Kravitz completed his routine and made his way through the house. By the time Kravitz made it into the kitchen, Taako had everything on a low simmer.

“Good evening, my dear,” Kravitz said. “Everything smells lovely.”

Taako hid a smile. “It better.”

Taako didn’t move away from the stove, even as he heard Kravitz prowl up behind him. He relaxed back into Kravitz’s chest as Kravitz’s hands came up to rest on his hips, humming as Kravitz pressed his lips to Taako’s shoulder.

“How long until dinner is finished?” Kravitz asked, his breath across Taako’s neck sending shivers down his body.

Taako hummed. “A little while. Why?”

He tilted his head to give Kravitz more access as his lips started trailing up Taako’s neck. He finally let the smile show, figuring that Kravitz wouldn’t be able to see it from his vantage point in Taako’s neck.

And then Taako shrieked and jumped away as Kravitz’s hands slipped up under his shirt to brush across his bare skin.

“Taako?” Kravitz asked, his hands still hovering in the air where Taako’s body had just been. “Babe?”

The warmth of the kitchen had soaked into Taako as he had cooked, leaving his skin overheated and sensitive to even a normal temperature. Kravitz’s cold hands felt worse than ice, sending a startling shock through his entire body.

“Cold!” Taako shrieked belatedly, rubbing at his sides.

Kravitz’s shoulders relaxed as he shook his head and chuckled. He started rubbing his hands together, as if the friction would be enough for Taako to let those hands come near him again.

“Don’t you come near me with those,” Taako said.

Kravitz raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “Taako,” he called teasingly, raising his hands as he crept toward Taako. “Come here, dear.”

Taako pointed at Kravitz, backing further away. “Kravitz…”

Kravitz lunged. Taako yelped, a frantic, high-pitched sound he would never admit to making under pain of death, and darted out of his path. Kravitz followed him, chasing him around the kitchen island and towards the dining table. Whereas Taako had respect for the furniture Magnus had crafted for his and Kravitz’s home, Kravitz seemed to have no such concerns. While Taako ran around the edge of the table, trying to get to the far side, Kravitz pulled himself atop it.

Taako made a desperate bid for the archway leading toward the rest of the house, but Kravitz jumped off the top of the table, tackling Taako to the floor. Taako winced, prepared for pain, but Kravitz had carefully maneuvered them so that he took the brunt of the fall, Taako landing on top of him, back to chest. Taako gasped once he found his bearings, trying to escape Kravitz’s arms, but his grip was sure. He was well and truly stuck.

“Don’t you dare,” Taako said, hoping the grin stretching across his face didn’t come across in his voice. He had to appear stern, after all.

“Don’t what, darling?” Kravitz asked, his fingers teasing at the hem of Taako’s tunic. “I’m just trying to show my lovely boyfriend how much I care about him.”

Taako didn’t get a chance to retort, shrieking as Kravitz’s chilly hands slipped under his shirt once more. Taako squirmed under the freezing touch, grabbing at Kravitz’s wrists and trying to push him away. Kravitz laughed and fought to keep his hands on Taako’s skin.

“Taako-- come on, quit-- just let me--!”

Kravitz grabbed at Taako’s side in an attempt to keep his grip, squeezing at the flesh. Suddenly, Taako was squealing for a whole new reason. He kicked his legs frantically, trying to propel himself out of Kravitz’s grip.

Kravitz laughed again. “It can’t be that cold, Taako, dear.”

Taako didn’t say anything. He was perfectly content to let Kravitz believe that was the issue. If Taako had managed to hide his little weakness from Kravitz for this long, he could manage to hide it a little longer.

Except then, in all their squirming and tussling, Kravitz’s hands kept shifting and moving, squeezing and pinching at places with an unfair amount of sensitivity. It only made him squirm worse, which only led to Kravitz accidentally tickling him more. It was a vicious circle that Taako didn’t know how to escape.

Taako thought he would be able to hold out until Kravitz got bored. It wasn’t like he hadn’t gotten far worse from Magnus or Lup, or even Barry at times. Only then, Kravitz hands landed on his ribs, his nails scrabbling and scratching for purchase against Taako’s skin as he continued to squirm. Taako couldn’t help it, he burst out into squeaking laughter.

“No!” Taako cried out, though it was far too late.

Kravitz’s hands only faltered for a moment, before he let out a low chuckle directly against Taako’s ear, making his ear flick as he let out another squeal. His hands started scribbling against Taako’s ribcage a lot more deliberately, searching out tickle spots.

“I don’t think this about the cold anymore at all,” Kravitz murmured into his ear. “I think someone has been hiding something from me.”

“Kravitz, please!”

“Please what?” Kravitz hummed. “Please… warm up my hands using your warm, ticklish torso? It’d be my pleasure, my dear.”

Kravitz’s scratching nails managed to find Taako’s sweet spot, just above the middle of his ribs, slightly towards the back. Taako nearly screamed, despite the touch being so light and teasing, the buildup and taunting making everything so much more unbearable. He thrashed enough that he was able to escape Kravitz’s grasp at long last, throwing his dignity to the side as he tried to crawl away across the tile.

“Oh, Taako,” Kravitz called, starting to crawl after him. “I don’t think my hands are quite warm enough yet.”

“Don’t touch me,” Taako shouted back, still giggling at the phantom tingles dancing down around his torso.

Taako shrieked when he felt a cool hand wrap around his ankle, slowly tugging him back. The worst part was, Kravitz’s hands did feel warmer. It wasn’t fair. He kicked against Kravitz’s grip, managing to throw him off, and scrambled to his feet. He raced out of the kitchen, and he could hear Kravitz’s footsteps thundering after him.

“Taako,” Kravitz called after him, his voice cajoling and teasing. “Come back! I promise I won’t do it again.”

Taako didn’t need a Zone of Truth to know how big of a lie that was. He could practically feel those wiggling fingers looming over him already, more than prepared to seek out all of Taako’s sensitive spots until he was begging for mercy. Embarrassingly enough, it wasn’t an outcome Taako would necessarily mind, but he had a reputation to uphold, an appearance to upkeep, and despite his care for Kravitz, it still was not something he could give up so easily.

But he wouldn’t have to give up that control if he got Kravitz pleading, first.

Without a thought, Taako switched directions, barrelling toward Kravitz instead of running away. Kravitz yelped, an adorably startled sound that Taako was not blessed with often, and stumbled over himself trying to stop and avoid collision. A new grin rose to Taako’s lips, feral and hungry, and he tackled Kravitz back to the ground.

“Maybe this will teach you to go around sticking your cold, clammy hands on everyone,” Taako said.

He slipped his hands under Kravitz’s own shirt, dragging his nails down Kravitz’s chilly sides. Giggles bubbled out of Kravitz’s mouth even as he raised a hand to cover it, using the other to swat at Taako in a feeble attempt at self-defense. Taako laughed, high and unaffected, and gently pinched around Kravitz’s stomach.

“Perhaps I can be persuaded to be merciful,” Taako said. “If you told me where you’re most ticklish.” He lightened his tickling to let Kravitz respond with more ease.

“I’m not an idiot, Taako,” Kravitz said around his giggles. “I know better than to tell you that.”

Taako harrumphed. “Suit yourself.”

He dug his fingers back into Kravitz’s flesh, climbing up his sides and ribs. Kravitz cried out and tumbled back into laughter. His arms clamped down to his sides in an attempt to halt Taako’s ascent, leaving his laughing face in full view. Taako resisted the urge to swoon.

His eyes crinkled with his laughter, joy clear in every wrinkle. His smile was the most beautiful thing Taako had ever seen, Taako could barely bring himself to look at it since it was so bright. Taako didn’t even have words to describe how musical and magical Kravitz’s laughter was.

A certain L-word came to mind, looking at Kravitz like this. Taako refused to acknowledge it, for the time being.

Unfortunately, this all left Taako very distracted. While his tickling fingers hadn’t stopped, they had slowed considerably. It gave Kravitz ample time to gather his wits about him and slide his hands under the hem of Taako’s skirt. Taako screeched, both at the once-again-freezing hands and the ticklish massage his thighs were suddenly being assaulted with. He almost toppled right off Kravitz’s lap with his cackles, doubling over and ceasing his own tickling to try and push Kravitz off, as unsuccessful as it was.

“Distracted, my dear?” Kravitz asked, focusing his tickling on Taako’s inner thighs and making him gasp for air. “Clearly you don’t understand the position you’re in.”

While he continued tickling at Taako’s thighs with one hand, the other crawled up Taako’s body. Taako cursed how smart he was, how good his memory was, as his fingers quickly found that death spot on his ribs once more. Taako toppled forward, face-planting into Kravitz’s chest as he lost himself to his frantic laughter.

“Unfortunately,” Kravitz said directly into Taako’s ear, making it flick and flinch away from his ticklish breath, “my hands are still very cold. I think it may take a while to warm them up.”

Taako wailed with mirth.

“Good thing dinner won’t be ready for a while yet, hm?”

Taako knew he was in for a long evening. The only thing that would get Kravitz to stop would be his timers going off, and they still had plenty of time left before that happened. Kravitz was going to ruin him.

Taako couldn’t wait.

#tickle fic #My writing #taz tickling #taz:b tickling #lee!taako #ler!kravitz #ticklish!taako #taz #taz:b #Taako Taaco #taz kravitz #taakitz

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my-own-oracle · 3 years

Note

Could I get a fluffy Drift romantic Valentine thingy?

Of course! Every bot deserves some love. You didn't specify any specific version of Drift, so I'm going with the MTMTE version. If you wanted RID15 or something else, just let me know. Sorry, this kinda got long; I've been without power for the majority of 3 days, this was one of the few things I could to do.

You still kept track of the days that passed on Earth. At first, it was for your own amusement. Wanting to keep track of the time on Earth, but as some holidays came and went, you kept track to keep the connection to your home alive. You kept track of the calendar changes, making a special note when you entered the month of February

You planned, quietly and carefully, gathering spare datapads and using your little stash of credits to purchase a small gift for a particular bot. It was hard keeping the whole thing a secret, considering most of the things you had to hide away were significantly larger than you, but by the power of pure determination, you managed.

You spent hours locked away in your hab-unit, carefully typing out cheesy Valentine's poems for your friends. Most following the 'roses are red, and violets are blue' format. And when they were done, you beamed.

You spent the day dragging different data pads around to other bots. Tailgate had even decided to help you for a while, flying you around on his hoverboard, laughing and talking with you as you made your way through the large ship. Even with his help, the event took up most of the day. Slowly everything was handed out. All but one Valentine remained.

You bid a farewell to Tailgate as he dropped you off at your hab-unit. You had to do this delivery alone.

This was the Valentine that mattered the most.

**** Drift had spent most of the day with Rodimus, talking about everything from different tactical plans to the many ways the Co-captain could encourage and rally his mechs with a more powerful aura. Or at least Rodimus pretended to listen to that last part. Either way, Drift had spent several hours with his friend. During that time, the spectralist had spied an unusual sight, a datapad in Rodimus' personal quarters. "Did someone slip that in here when you weren't looking?" Rodimus laughed good-naturedly before shaking his helm.

"No, the Space Cadet dropped it off. She's celebrating an earth holiday today and is passing out some gifts to bots she thinks will appreciate them. Rodimus passed the datapad over to Drift, letting him read the short poem written on it.

"Roses are red, And you are too. I am so thankful, To be friends with you."

Drift found himself smiling as he reads the blurb of text below it, where you explained Valentine's day and its significance to humans in your own culture.

"So this day is used to express love and gratitude to those around you?" Drift clarified, smiling a little wider as Rodimus nodded.

"She told me humans also use this day as an excuse to express more romantic kinds of love too."

A feeling of jealousy settled in his tanks.

"(Y/N)- she is truly a wonderful person. Did she pass out many of these?"

"She had a large stack. You'll probably have one waiting for you in your room," A servo pushed into drifts shoulder plating.

"I doubt that we-" he calms his spark before speaking again. "We may be friends, but we hardly spend time alone together. I think she's frightened of me."

"Uhhh I-"

"She must have learned about some of the things in my past. She can hardly look at me in the optics when we're together, and if we are alone, she can't speak. I fear that I may be terrifying to be around.."

"Okay…. Have you ever thought that maybe your being," Rodumis rolled his optics, "I don't know, a little overdramatic?"

Drift pondered the thought. But no matter how he looked at it, the hesitant gaze, the fidgeting when together, the quietness she only had around him, all signs pointed to her fearing him.

"Drift, please, don't make me be the responsible one. It goes against my entire being."

Silence lapsed again.

"I am not spelling this out for you," Rodimus stood, pulling Drift to his peds and shoving him out the door. "Come back when you're done being a sparkling. Go talk to her," the door shut, leaving Drift to walk back to his hab-unit.

****

You could feel your heart racing under your ribs. Thundering with each step you took, leading you to pause every few meters. 'This is so stupid. I can't do this.' you told yourself for the hundredth time.

"You alright there, Space Cadet?" you snapped your head behind you, spying Rodimus standing maybe a few feet away. When had he snuck up on you?

"I'm fine, just lost in my head." you face back towards Drifts unit, your confidence waning with each passing second.

"Is that another one of those valentines?" Rodimus squatted down to you your level, a servo reaching out to the special datapad you had placed on the hall floor.

"No," you dashed in front of his hand. "Nothing of interest, really. It's just like the one I gave to you and everybody else."

"And I suppose the box next to it is nothing too," you took a large step to the right, standing between the white and red wrapped box you had next to the Data-pad, before sharing a small, shy smile with the co-captain.

"It's- it's nothing." your voice was softer than you wanted it to be. The smug look on Rodimus' face told you he didn't buy it. "I wanted to give a gift to someone, and if I was on Earth, I would give a special someone candy. I found out Cybertronians can eat energon candies, and I bought a crystal of it as a gift. But it's stupid. He probably won't like it anyways."

You sunk your head closer to your shoulders. "Just giving him a poem and a piece of candy isn't going to make someone like him notice me." Your fingers worked at the hem of your shirt, rolling the worn material as a means to work out the lump you felt forming in your throat.

Rodimus held his servo out to you, a silent invitation to 'climb up' as he so often said. You took it, settling down into his palm. You watched as he carefully gathered your measly gift into his other servo and began walking in the direction you needed to go.

"So, you like this mech, and you're worried he doesn't like you." You nod. "Who is it?"

"I'd rather not say."

"It's not Ultra Magnus, is it?" You snap a playful glare at your friend. "I just needed to know, I'd still support you, but I won't be thrilled."

"No, it's not Magnus." you heard his vent of relief. Thundering footsteps filled the hall as Rodimus carried you farther a small way.

"so…"

"It- I, Drift," you whispered. "It's for Drift." You were thankful Rodimus didn't outright laugh. He did his best to stay composed. You could feel it in the way his digits curled for a moment, him gasping for air as he tried to talk.

"You think, he- you dont realize-" giggles filled the space between each attempted sentence.

"Yes, I like Drift. Go on, get it out. The little silly human is in love with a bot who probably couldn't care less, who's so far out of her league it's embarrassing." The lump in your throat returned, this time accompanied by a burning feeling behind your eyes. You took a few calming breaths, refusing to cry in such a frustrating situation.

"Oh stars, you're hopeless." Rodimus was smiling, oblivious to your emotional turmoil or not caring about it. "Trust me," he lifted you level with his politics, "He'll be thrilled."

***** Drift sat in his hab-unit, wondering how he could use this Valentine's day thing to his advantage. Find a way to earn some positive affection, and talk to you.

He was coming up blank; you were beloved. There was no way you would give up your time to talk to a bot who terrified you. If only he knew a way to quell your fear and maybe show that he wasn't such a bad bot. Drift heard his door open but didn't turn from his desk. His EM field told him it was Rodimus.

"Yo." Rodimus walks over to Drift, and before he can turn, his friend grips the closest servo to him. Drift feels you more than sees you, as you're practically tossed into his servo. His optics widen monetarily, and he throws his other servo around you, desperately trying to keep you from falling.

You have his full attention, so much so that the sound of Rodimus putting your gift down on Drift's desk before walking out hardly registers in his audials. Rodimus' smug "You'll thank me later" rings aloud and as the door slides shut behind him.

Drift cautiously checks you over for injuries. Slowly you roll over, sitting up and trying to look up into Drift's optics.

Your eyes can barely go past his chassis.

"Are you alright?" Drift questions. His optics take over you again, first your body, then your aura.

"Hi Drift, I'm alright" you raise your hand in a little wave, you sound a little frightened, and he watches as your body tenses. "I'm sorry for-uh- barging in like this. But I wanted to bring you a valentines gift." you waved your hand to the small offering on the desk beside him. "It's been delivered, so I'll stop bothering you now, I'm so sorry to have-"

"You are not bothering me," he smiles down at you. You're nervous; that much is plain to see. He turns his attention to your gift. While the box interests him, he takes the datapad first.

"Roses are red, And you are kind. I hold you in my heart, always on my mind."

He watches from the corner of his optics as you become red, the color complimenting the flustered pink in your aura.

"The poem is beautiful," he smiles, but you don't look at him in the optic. He puts down the pad and reaches for the box. The lid removes easily, and he is touched by the piece of energon candy you had inside.

"Thank you for my gifts, though I will say I'm surprised you gave me one," your eyes snapped to his optics wide and hurt.

"Why, you're my friend." Your question was soft, so quiet should he had been organic, he wouldn't have heard it.

"You're frightened of me, so I didnt think you would take the time to make me a gift."

"I'm not frightened of you," your hand reached our reassuringly to one of the digits around you, "What gave you that impression?"

Drift listed the clues he had gathered over the few months you'd been aboard, noting that with each one, a look of guilt took form over your face.

"Drift- I-I am not afraid of you," you stood abruptly, hopping from his hand to his desk "do you know what valentine's day is all about on earth?"

"It's about showing your affection to those in your life," your smile made his spark hum. It was soft, there was fear, but he focused in closer and saw in your aura; it wasn't a fear of him.

"Correct, but only half correct. It's also about telling people who don't know you lo-" you took a breath. "Some humans use this day to confess their love for another person." He could see the struggle you had to keep your eyes at his optics. "Those things I did, the ones that made you think I was scared of you, I did them because I was nervous. I really like you Drift, I would go as far as to say love, but I'm frightened at what you'll do, what you'll think."

He brought his servo to you again, two digits brushing your cheek and your hair. "If I were human, and it was Valentine's day, what should I do to quell your fears? How am I supposed to respond if I feel the same way about you?"

You leaned into his digits, your body relaxing from a tension he hadn't realized you had been holding in.

"You just did."

#valentines requests #drift x reader #mtmte drift #Transformers #transformers x reader

132 notes · View notes

ghostbustermelanieking · 3 years

Text

tma fic masterpost

love letters (of a sort)

(jonmartin, seasons 1-5, fluff, angst, wc: 13k)

Want to grab dinner later? I know you're going to be working absurdly late anyway, and there's a new Italian place I've been wanting to try. — M

Yes, that sounds nice. I'll try to be finished by 7:00. — J

Oh, yes. God forbid you don't work absurdly late. ;) — M

Or: The notes and letters Jon and Martin have written each other, through the years.

cracks

(post mag 200, tim & sasha, jonmartin, wc: 1k)

Sasha finds a tape on her kitchen table. A new one. The last one. She doesn't even need to listen to it to know it's the last one. And she has a voice-mail on her phone from Annabelle Cane.

She calls Tim first, right then, at one a.m., and he picks up. She knew he would. She knows he felt the change, too. "We have to go," she says. "Right now. We've got to go back. Something's happened."

microfics: tender, trembling hands, drastic

in the moonlight

(wtgfs, pre-canon, fluff, wc: 2k)

6. things you said under the stars and in the grass

Or: Georgie and Melanie on a late-night ghost hunt (in an "unromantic" field).

after words

(jonmartin, mag 102 au, hurt/comfort, wc: 3k)

things you said prompts: "13. things you said at the kitchen table."

Or: After Jon's escape from the Circus, Martin offers for Jon to stay with him.

warm

(jonmartin, scottish safehouse period, wc: 2k)

things you said prompts: "1. things you said at 1 am"

Or: Huddling for warmth after the Lonely.

reunions

(post mag 196, canon divergent, jonmartin, wc: 2k)

Martin and Jon find each other again at the remnants of Hill Top Road.

cursed grounds

(bly manor au pt 1, jonmartin, ensemble, slow burn, wip, wc: 14k)

When there's a lull, Martin speaks up, because he has to, he knows he does, he won't get a better opportunity. He says, "I've got a story," and when they look at him with interest, he adds, "A… a statement, really. It might be hard to hear, but… I think we all need to hear it again."

He shifts in his seat, sits up straighter, clears his throat and looks out at the lot of them and begins. "Statement of Martin Blackwood," he says, "regarding the Magnus Institute, and everything that happened there." He takes a breath, hears the familiar words in their familiar cadence rattle through his mind: the Archivist is taking a statement. He says, "Statement begins."

Or: In 1985, after the disappearance of Gertrude Robinson from the reclusive grounds of the Magnus Institute, Jonathan Sims is brought in as a replacement. As he adjusts to the new job, and begins to bond with his new coworkers, the strange happenings on the grounds that the Magnus Institute sits on become harder to ignore.

Years later, Martin Blackwood makes a statement.

variations on a death scene

(ensemble, jonmartin, wtgfs, aus, revenge stories, wc: 6k)

Or: Eight times Jonah Magnus was killed, and everything was fixed.

tapes winding forward

(jonmartin, time travel, season 1/season 5 au, word count: 48k)

Chapters: 6/6

Martin gets a closer look at the calendar, and his breath catches in his throat. He's gotten a look at the year, and it's wrong, it's all wrong. 2018. October, 2018. Right there, in Martin's own handwriting, on a Saturday, he's written things on little dates that Martin can't read, because he can't take his eyes off the year. 2018. 2018. They look differently. They have scars they don't recognize. Their hair is longer. 2018.

Martin seizes the calendar off the fridge and goes back into the living room. Jon's still at the coffee table, poking through the tapes piled there, but he looks up when Martin comes back in and says, "Martin, where…" with a familiar bite in his voice.

Martin ignores him, stops him mid-sentence to say, "Jon, what have you heard about time travel?"

---

Martin and Jon wake up two years in the future. It goes about as well as can be expected.

cat's cradle

(georgie & jon, wtgfs, the admiral, s5 au, cat angst & fluff, mag 189/190, word count: 5k)

Jon and Martin go out one day, on a trip to the eldritch horror-trap grocery store, and show back up in the tunnels after a few long hours, longer than any of the trips to the store that Georgie has been on. Martin has a bag of horrible spooky food, and Jon has a bag shut at the top that is wriggling suspiciously in his arms. "Oh, great," says Melanie, when Georgie fills her in. "What monstrous thing has he brought home now?" Georgie would giggle if the situation wasn't at least a little potentially dangerous, Jon could have anything in there, really.

---

Or: an exploration of the fate of the Admiral, after the end of the world.

rising static

(archivist!martin, jonmartin, s5 au/canon divergence/spec, word count: 14k)

Martin forces his eyes open to look at Jon, bruise blossoming at the top of his forehead, eyes red and wet. "Wh-what's gone?" he asks softly, almost afraid of the answer.

"It. All of it, or at least some of it, I don't know… I can't feel it anymore. The statements, the Beholding, it's—it's…" Jon breaks off mid-sentence, shaking his head. He leans forward so their foreheads are together, and Martin can feel him trembling all over. He says, voice low and thick with fear, "I'm… not sure I'm the Archivist anymore."

---

The initial confrontation with Jonah Magnus goes badly, and Martin wakes up outside the Panopticon to find Jon missing. In the wake of this initial loss, something about Martin starts to change.

northern-bound trains

(safehouse fic, jonmartin, post mag 159, pining, word count: 6k)

Martin rides with Jon to the train station. He insisted. Said he shouldn’t have to go there alone. “Nothing worse than leaving on a trip with no one to send you off,” he’d said. Jon had nodded, gratefully, and swallowed back the burning lump of what he wanted to say—Come with me, come to Scotland, I don’t want to leave you alone again. He kept hearing Martin’s words in his head: I really loved you. And he couldn’t ask Martin to do that, to leave his whole life and everything behind to become a fugitive, cower in Scotland and throw his whole life away. It’s too much. And Martin has already sacrificed so much for him.

He’ll be content with Martin seeing him off. That can be enough. That will be enough.

knowing

(s1 archives crew, timsasha, season 4 au, word count: 3k)

Jon falters, looks at the ground, one hand over his mouth. "You… you were both in the same place. In a… domain. D-Daisy was in one, too, a different one. I got her out. And I… I thought, afterwards, that maybe I could get the two of you back, too."

---

Or: After the Unknowing, after the Buried, Jon finds Sasha and Tim again.

journeys at the end of the world

(wtgfs, melanie king, season 5 au/spec, word count: 8k)

Melanie doesn't remember what happened after the world ends.

(Or: Melanie searches for Georgie in the wake of the apocalypse.)

a hidden statement

(season 1 au, s1 archives crew, jonmartin, timsasha, wc: 100k)

Chapters: 5/15 (wip)

Martin finds the tape in the wall. Specifically, in a small hole in the drywall, tucked behind boxes and stuffed with so much crumpled paper and tissue that it's almost impossible to see anything else in there. It's a cassette tape, the sort Jon uses to record statements, labeled on the front with a brown strip of tape. It's addressed to the Head Archivist in a spidery handwriting.

Or: Gertrude Robinson made a tape as a warning to the next Head Archivist. What if he had gotten it?

#for organization purposes lol... mastered after an xf fic masterpost from ages ago #tma fic #the magnus archives #archivist martin #timsasha #wtgfs #jonmartin #i wrote this #long post

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malucy31 · 3 years

Text

Even Autumn knows Dawn

Every day Magnus wakes up with Alec in his life, he realizes how differently he deals with his depression and aches. It's a lot better now. This is one of these mornings.

Teen and Up audiences

1922 words

Read on ao3

“I should have let you kidnap me while there was still time,” Alec mumbles, half asleep. “We would still be in Havana, winning all the salsa dancing competitions by now.”

With a light chuckle, Magnus slips under the cover and dives into his embrace. It has been a very long day on top of an excruciating week. Being in the warmth of Alec’s arms is everything he has been looking forward to the entire day. It doesn’t disappoint. The feeling of homeis immediate, making all his sore, tired muscles soften like marshmallows.

“The offer still stands, you know.”

“Mmh… ‘ll ‘member” Alec punctuates his words with a squeeze around his waist and, in a few seconds, Magnus can tell he has fallen back asleep. His heart breaks a little, but it’s 4 a.m. after all.

“Good night, Alexander,” he murmurs with a kiss against his shoulder.

Their schedules haven’t aligned in weeks. Magnus longs for their cozy pillow talks and lazy cuddles, has hoped all day to be home early enough to at least go to bed at the same time as Alec, but it was too good to be true.

Tomorrow won’t be better… Another political meeting to try to prevent a conflict between two warlock communities, a powerful client who keeps asking for impossible things, and the certainty that when he wakes up, Alec will be already getting ready for his own day of misery.

When Magnus opens his eyes, he wishes he had been wrong. His body already feels Alec’s absence and has decided to take over his side of the bed. The Sun is barely rising, but a weight is already settling on his chest. Alec’s scent is faint on the pillow, trapped in the silk fibers like morning dew under clover leaves. It helps soothe the ache a little, the one that has been following him for centuries.

He inhales deeply, letting relief wash over him.

Who knew answers could be so soft, so sweet?

A lifetime ago, he thought the answer was in more.More music, more laughter, more lovers, constant roller coasters of emotions. Whatever it took to quiet the pain.

Always more.

Until numbness.

Until oblivion and nothingness.

Until all that pain inside, that longing, that beasthad no other solution than to lock itself away in a dark, remote corner of his soul.

A never-ending fight against himself.

He remembers going through the last century like the wrinkled last page of a forgotten love letter, blowing in the wind through deserted streets. No will to steer him. Only the certainty that he wouldn’t see the turn of the next century carved deep into his bones.

No one is supposed to live this long.

There’s a reason why warlocks have to eventually find a way to burn their heart to ashes, get rid of their weakness, their humanity. Centuries ago, someone tried to convince Magnus it was the only way.

But his heart has always been his pride, the only good thing about him. He will never feed it to bitterness, this brave, oh so human organ that seeks connection more than air. Despite what people think of him, he never stopped wearing it in the palm of his hand.

Even through his darkest times, he would still take it out of his own chest if someone needed it. He would let it see the beauty of the world, of love, of the comfort and sense of belonging one can only draw from helping others. It made the pain turn wistful instead of nagging.

He thought that was his only answer. Helping others to have reasons to stay.

Forever seeking noise to keep an open heart and take care of his children.

Forever needed.

Forever alone…

Then, he met Alexander. Someone who is the opposite of noise, the opposite of his usual noise anyway.

Magnus will never be able to express precisely what drew him to this quiet shadowhunter. The moment he took Alec’s hand, something in him stirred, sighed like it hadn’t done in forever. Today, he likes to think that his magic recognized him somehow, giving his heart more reasons to keep beating.

If all legends are true, maybe souls wander the world, wander centuries and bodies until they find a home.

Alexander’s love isn’t loud, it’s quiet in all the most perfect ways. Even when he lets it explode, there’s a harmony, a celestial beauty that always leaves Magnus speechless, in complete awe.

Alexander doesn’t bring numbness. He makes Magnus aware of everything, makes him want to be fully alive and not a half version of it.

At first, he thought Alec was the one who needed to let his emotions run free. He forgot that what we see in others is often a reflection of what we know about ourselves.

There was never a beast that needed to be locked away inside of him. Alec shows him that. Every night and every day, his wonderful angel takes that pain in his careful hands and cradles it until it feels loved again, soothed.

It’s barely dawn. The day ahead still looks dull and lonely, but the heaviness is gone.

He pictures Alec in their living room, grimacing as he finishes his coffee because it’s probably too strong, leaning on the back of their couch while reading a few reports that have been sent to him over the night.

Any minute now, he is going to come back to their bedroom. He will take extra precautions to not startle him awake, even though neither stays asleep after the other one gets up. They both know that.

He will whisper, “Magnus, Magnus, I’m leaving,” and Magnus will open one eye, then two, smiling back at him. His grinning nephilim will come closer to kiss him good-bye. His hands, then his forearms will sink into the mattress either side of Magnus’s head. They’ll start laughing because he can rarely stop himself from tickling Alec’s ribs, and he knows there’s no such thing as not hearing that laugh today.

This morning should feel heavy.

And yet, the autumn light filtering through the shutters seems to be a little more golden than usual, the birds nesting on the roof sing something his centuries-old heart has long memorized, and the air he breathes takes up more space in his lungs, making him feel weightless.

When the door opens to Alec’s smiling face, he forgets everything.

It’s a beautiful day.

“Did I wake you?” he asks.

In a few strides, he is kneeling by his side, laying his hands on Magnus’s forearm. They are cold, he must have just washed them. Magnus almost says something about it because isn’t it endearing and miraculous? He isn’t sure he knows why something so simple makes him so happy, so emotional, but it does.

“No, my heart. I was already awake.”

A shudder of pleasure coils up around his spine when their lips wish each other a good morning in a tender kiss, when their breath mingles in laughter that fills Magnus with joy.

“So, I was thinking,” Alec pauses, happiness banishing the constant stress from his features, giving him back the youth the Clave stole from him. “Maybe we could plan a day off soon? Like very soon? I’ve heard of this ephemeral café that opened in Central Park, and I’d like to take you there, pretend to be mundanes… I like it when we do that, it’s fun.”

“An ephemeral café in Central Park, huh? How fancy of you.” Tilting Alec’s chin, Magnus kisses his cheek, feeling a slight tremor in his gesture.

For what must be the thousandth time since this wonderful being entered his life, Magnus marvels at all the ways Alec can affect him. His first reflex is to hide it, maybe tease Alec about how he could have found out about this café. Probably from Simon. It sounds like him and Magnus knows Alec is growing fonder of the vampire. It would be easy to avert Alec’s attention to this, make him roll his eyes in this fake-annoyed way he mastered a long time ago… But he can’t. For some reason, nothing comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t want to take Alec’s attention away from this moment, from him. Magnus wants to be right there with Alec. Genuine and whole, too much to handle, too many emotions, and too much love. Himself.

It doesn’t scare him. The realization brings tears to his eyes, and Alec kisses them away.

“I learned from the best.”

It takes a few seconds for Magnus to realize what Alec is replying to.

“So, what do you say?”

“I’d love to. I like having fun and being fancy with you.”

“Good,” Alec keeps gently cradling his face, wiping more invisible tears.

Magnus can tell he wants to ask about them, wants to ask about all that mess in his head, even though he is sure Alec wouldn’t call it that way. He wants to let him ask those questions, wants to see the day when he will be as open as possible with Alec. So instead of shaking his head, Magnus smiles.

“I can’t wait.”

“Me neither… We’ll talk more about it tonight, okay? I should go.”

“I might be home late.”

“I’ll wait.”

Alec kisses him and Magnus knows he shouldn’t grip his shirt this tight, but he does because it makes Alec giggle against his mouth. There’s no better feeling than that.

A little while later, when Magnus is getting ready, he catches sight of a note on their kitchen counter next to a cup of coffee.

I think I got it right this time… Let me know tonight. Have a good day, I love you.

He doesn’t know what is faster, his large grin or the tranquil waves of endearment and love surging inside of him. With a snap of his fingers, he warms up the cup and takes a sip. It’s perfect.

Closing his eyes, he savors the last minutes of quiet of his day before too much noise, too many problems to solve, too many people to talk to, before the sweet relief of Alec’s arms later tonight. Before what makes every day worth living through.

Magnus wishes he could talk to all the former versions of himself.

The ones desperate for a human connection that would last more than a night, more than a month, more than a few years. More than a lifetime. The ones that didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel, the ones craving a quick and painless demise, the ones wondering where this would all lead him. The ones who only saw darkness ahead.

He wants to tell them that it gets better, that it’s all worth it, that today, all he sees is the love of his life, his answer to everything.

Even when he looks back, all he sees in his story are all the plot twists and unbearable cliffhangers that will lead him to his Alexander. All the reasons why their stories fit so well together. Every question finding an answer.

Maybe he had to go through all those centuries to get to this life, maybe he had to pay for his ancestors’ sins first. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe everything could have been different, and they would have still ended up here.

It doesn’t matter.

It used to matter, but it doesn’t anymore.

Because a new story started being written when their paths crossed. Their story.

It’s all that matters now.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec fanfiction #my writing #magnus pov #happy malec :)

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lilacpotter · 3 years

Note

Lillaaaccc!!!! Your layout is soo pretty 😭😭 I love the purple so much and thr header with planets and stars fhdjsjs 🥺🥺

Imma in love 😌💕

Also.. pls post some drabble 😭😭 I miss reading your work. Pls. Short drabble would work too. I smile sooo much when I read your drabbles fjdjd 😭😭

Pls 👉🏼👈🏼

Okay bye. Love you 😌💕

Broooo!! First of all, HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY DHARAA!! omgg ❤

And thank youuuUuU. <333

I’m so fucking sorry I’m this late but I got it finally done. And pleassseee, take this more than 8k words “drabble” as your birthday gifttt!! I’m not sure how it really is but I hope it’s gooddd aah. I had been writing and rewriting it for the past three days djhsfsf 😫😹

Here we gooo <3:-

5 and 7

“What if I stole your crown right now?”

Those were the last words little Isak got to hear before prince Even snatched the golden crown with a mischievous grin and started running away. He chased after him, screaming in agony. He was dramatic, yes, so what? He was five and he could throw a tantrum if he wanted to. And also, don’t you dare call him little. He was big for his age and smart too.

He sped up his pace, trying to run as fast as he could in this thorny garden with his little prince feet, his golden curls tossing here and there on his head. But Even was taller and faster than him, so he outran Isak within no time with his giraffe legs, and Isak came to a stop somewhere in the middle, panting and falling onto the grass backward with a dramatic sigh. He laid there star-fished and watched the sky instead for a while.

It was autumn and the leaves were falling on his small face and it was warm and Even was back here in Oslo after a whole year, at the Valtersen palace. Even’s parents ruled a small country named Phitogin in the east side, and even if it wasn’t nearly as big as Norsk was, they were really close to Isak’s parents since their own childhood. So, they always paid a visit to Oslo every year during autumn and that was the only time Isak ever got to see Even and play with him and make sandcastles and blanket forts.

He squinted up his eyes at the bright sun, as if commanding it to shine a bit lesser, but of course, that wasn’t possible. He knew the sun was way bigger than earth and way hotter than the royal soup that was served to him whenever he fell sick. He wouldn’t dare mess with the sun.

He was about to put a hand over his face to shield himself instead, surrender to the great sun, when a dark shadow blocked the light above him.

“Hello, my little prince,” Even was grinning down at him mischievously, his hands behind his back.

Isak narrowed his eyes and sat up straight. “Where is my crown?” he demanded.

“Who knows?” Even shrugged, still keeping his hands behind himself. And Isak knew he was hiding the crown there.

So he pounced up and tried to grab Even by the shirt, but Even was quicker because he moved away in time.

“Give it back to me!” Isak yelled, jumping again. Even grinned wider, dodging him.

“No, little prince. You will ruin my hard work if you see it.”

“Don’t call me that,” Isak said, offended. “I am not little!”

Even smirked. “Oh yes, you are. You are very little, tiny. Look, you are even smaller than me!” And then he burst out laughing.

“I am not!!” Isak glared at him. He was not little. So he launched himself on top of Even to attack him. They both wrestled for a few minutes furiously, punching each other’s stomachs before falling to the ground on top of each other, breathing heavily.

When Isak opened his green eyes back up again Even was hovering above him, putting his crown back on his head quietly. Isak frowned and moved his hands up to touch the crown and see for himself what Even had done to it, but he didn’t let him and instead removed the crown again.

“Even, show me my crown!” Isak complained, reaching up.

“No, you will ruin it!” Even refused, shaking his head.

Isak grew more suspicious, so with narrowed eyes, he warned Even, “If you broke it or put tiny worms on top of it then I am not going to share my space blanket with you tonight.” He poked his little finger into Even’s chest to tell him how serious he was being.

Both of them knew how much Isak loved his space blanket and how much he loved sharing it with Even and the people he liked. If Isak refused to share it with anyone then it meant he didn’t like them enough.

Even, instead of being scared of Isak’s warning, grinned back at him again, all teeth and crinkles.

“Oh no, little prince. I wouldn’t dare break it or do anything such horrendous to your precious crown!” He said, widening his eyes dramatically.

Isak squinted his eyes at him. “Really?”

Even nodded furiously before slowly bringing his hands to the front, holding Isak’s golden crown in between his palms. It was shining in the afternoon sun as usual, too bright and too lustrous, but as Isak leaned in a bit nearer he noticed designs of pretty flowers all over it. Even had doodled on his crown.

Isak took his crown gently before looking at all the doodles. There were so many colourful flowers and they were all really pretty. There was one of Isak sitting on a throne, and another one of Adolph, their pet dog, and another one of Isak and Even on the bed watching the stars above them. There were just so many of them and they made the crown look so much better!

Isak was smiling without even knowing, his heart was flying, but Even probably had noticed it because he suddenly asked, “Do you like it?”

Isak could hear the smile in his voice. So, he morphed his face back, trying to look more annoyed than pleased, and glared at Even.

“No, I hate it! You ruined my crown, Even.” He said to his face trying to sound furious.

But Even grinned at him instead. “Oh really? Then why is there a smile on your face?”

Isak widened his eyes, turning red. “What? No there isn’t!” he protested, but he couldn’t stop smiling. And soon within no time Even laughing loudly.

“Oh my god, you’re such a bad liar!” He giggled.

Isak rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “Shut up! I am leaving.” He said, before turning away and stomping dramatically to the castle.

“Of course you love what I did to your crown, little prince. I do too. I’ll make you more of these the next time we meet!” He heard Even shout from behind him loudly and Isak ducked his head, picked up a tiny rock, and threw it back at Even, missing him narrowly.

7 and 9

“Ugh, why do we always have to sleep together whenever you visit me? Why can’t you sleep in your own separate room?” Isak complained loudly to the dark, sighing when he got no reply.

So, he shuffled closer and pushed Even’s chest. “Evennnnnn!” he whined when the older boy let out another soft snore and pulled Isak’s blanket much tighter around himself.

“Hmph,” Isak sighed in defeat before slumping back and resorted to just staring at the dark instead when Even finally spoke.

“Maybe it’s because they think you are too little to be sleeping on your own at night.” There was too much sarcasm in his voice and Isak turned to him in surprise and suspicion.

“You were awake?!” He screamed in offense.

Even grinned at him in the dark, his teeth shining bright. “Did you actually think I had been sleeping this whole time?!”

Isak couldn’t believe him. “Oh my god,”

“Yes, and what’s wrong with me sleeping here?” said Even, shuffling closer to Isak noisily.

“Nothing is wrong.” Isak huffed. “You just keep stealing my blanket and I get cold!”

Even shuffled much closer until he was almost hugging Isak from the side. “Oh, I’m really sorry about that, your grace. But look! Sleeping together is not really that bad because you get to cuddle me and I’m much warmer than your precious blanket.” Even said, wrapping Isak’s little body with his arms and pulling the younger boy into himself.

Isak squirmed against him, groaning. “Ugh, go away!”

“Never in a million years,” Even mumbled, shoving his face on top of Isak’s fluff of curls. They were a tangle of skinny limbs.

“ugh,”

Isak tried moving away but he was failing so hard at it. So he gave up a while later and slumped against Even’s chest, feeling his chest rise and fall back as he breathed. He felt oddly at peace a while later and drifted into sleep easily. The blanket lay forgotten by the corner of the bed.

11 and 13

“What if we sneaked into the kitchen right now?” Even suddenly said, sounding excited.

Isak groaned at him. “No way. We won’t be sneaking out to the kitchen right now in the middle of the night.”

“But we will!”

“We won’t,”

He saw Even pout at him in the dark. He had gotten a new haircut and he looked ridiculous and although it shouldn’t have bothered Isak, it did. He couldn’t get to bury his fingers into those long blonde strands of hair from now on.

“But I’m hungry,” Even mumbled. “Pleaseeee, let’s go.”

Isak shook his head. “No one is hungry at night, Even. Stop making things up.”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you are?”

But Even wasn’t listening. He got up and already started pulling Isak up by his hands. Isak let out a loud groan before giving in and following the older boy out of the room.

It was dark outside and so they tip-toed quietly down the stairs. At one point they were almost caught when a guard heard Even’s stomach growling in hunger. They giggled to themselves and sneaked through the corridors and halls until they finally reached the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen, they both started shoving as many food items as they could in their pockets. Even tried carrying half-eaten raspberry cake from the day before but he slipped and ruined it instead. Isak laughed out so loud that he was sure he had woken someone up but thank god no one stopped them.

It was chaos. But they were finally done, looking more chubbier and puffed up because of all those food stuffed in their pockets. They were giggling silently as they walked back out of the kitchen when they stopped dead as they spotted a boy of about Isak’s age staring at them in shock.

It was Magnus. He was the butler’s son.

13 and 15

“Do you think any one of them will like me?” Magnus asked, sitting beside Isak and eating large ice cream.

Isak wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying because his eyes were trained on Even. Even had gotten much taller recently and his hair was longer and he looked even more prettier. Shit. No, not pretty. He looked good. But Isak couldn’t help but think it was such an understatement. Even had even started getting a bit of muscle.

Isak watched him smile and beam and flirt with other girls in the castle hall. A weird kind of jealousy was stemming up in his body and he had no idea why. It was weird and new and made him feel all jittery.

“They look so pretty, don’t they?” Magnus was saying beside him.

Isak nodded absently. Yes, he is really pretty.

“I have never even talked to them, forget about touching them. Their skin looks so soft, Isak. I just want to touch them once. Isak, are you even listening?”

Magnus’s voice snapped Isak out of his thoughts and he blushed. “Uh, what?”

“The girls!” Magnus whined, nodding over to the bunch of girls who all looked way too interested in what Even had to say. Isak hated them. “Aren’t they beautiful? Why are girls so pretty?”

Isak bit his lip and nodded. “Even, uh, boys are pretty sometimes, I think.” He said slowly before he realised what he had just said and his heart sped up. Oh no.

Magnus hummed beside him, considering. “True. Even is really pretty if I’m being honest.” He stated it as a fact and Isak snapped his head up to look at him.

“What?” He couldn’t believe his ears.

“What?” Magnus laughed in confusion. “Even is pretty. That’s why girls love talking to him, isn’t it?”

Isak’s mouth was parted slightly. He just stared at Magnus for a few seconds before looking down, his cheeks flaming. “I guess so, yeah, um, Even is really pretty.”

“I told you!” Magnus hollered in joy. “I want to be pretty too. So girls would want to talk to me too. Don’t you think?”

Isak nodded again, biting his lip.

“I’m really pretty, huh?” Even’s voice came over and Isak looked up to see that he was walking over to them both. Oh, God. Had he heard what Isak had just said? It was going to be bad.

Isak flipped him off instead of saying anything and that earned him an ‘Oyy’ from a very surprised and an amused Even.

“We have already started learning this kind of things, I see.” He nodded over to Isak’s middle finger which was still sticking out in his direction.

“Magnus taught me.” Isak shrugged and then watched Magnus hug Even tightly for a moment before letting him go.

“We were just talking about how pretty you are, bro.” Magnus said, looking excited and Isak blushed again. Gosh, Magnus. Why couldn’t he just shut his mouth?

Even looked at Isak with his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really? Yeah, I did hear the prince say how pretty I am. It’s an honour for me really.” He smirked and Isak wanted to combust right then and there. “You should start calling me ‘pretty prince’ from now on then, Issy. It’s a nice name, isn’t it? Just like yours is, little prince.”

“Why are you such a dick?” Isak said, narrowing his eyes at the taller boy.

Even laughed out loud and when Isak flipped him off again, Even blew him a kiss instead went back to join the girls, this time taking a very excited Magnus along with him, leaving Isak feeling all flustered.

Gosh, why was he feeling like this recently? Isak did not like it. It was weird and just strange. He had never felt like this around Even before. And the fact that recently most of his dreams consisted only of Even touching him in weird places was also not helping things at all.

What the hell was really happening?

14 and 16

“Even, are you even listening?!” Isak said tiredly for the fourth time that day, but Even still kept staring blankly in the opposite direction.

So Isak reached his hand out that held his wooden sword and poked Even in the stomach. “Asshole!”

At that finally, Even looked up at him in surprise.

“Should I tell the queen you have started swearing nowadays? Hmm?” He broke into a mischievous grin.

Isak sighed exhaustedly. “We are learning to sword fight and you keep zoning out all the time! What’s up with you? Stop thinking of your girlfriend all the time.” He said, spitting the word ‘girlfriend’ out with as much spite as he could muster. Yes, he was frustrated and annoyed and pissed right now, so what?

Even had gotten himself a girlfriend two months back. Princess Sonja of the realm of Sweden. And she was all he ever talked about. Of course, Isak had a right to be pissed.

Even rolled his eyes this time. “I am not thinking of Sonja, excuse me. I’m listening.”

“No you are not!” Isak countered back, waving his wooden sword around.

“I am! I am not thinking of her, Issy, now come on, let’s practice.”

“Yes, you are!” Isak said back, pausing his practice entirely. “You are always thinking of Sonja. You always spend your time with her, kissing her and complimenting her and telling her she looks good and I bet you wouldn’t sleep in my room anymore if your mum allowed you to sleep along with Sonja! Of course, she is always on your mind. You forgot about me. It’s as if I don’t even exist to you! And now you can’t even practice sword fighting with me because you are always only thinking of her.”

He exhaled deeply after his outburst, and he knew there were tears in his eyes, hot, burning tears. but he was keeping them at bay from falling down and making him look weak. He wasn’t weak. Even was watching him back with wide eyes, his mouth falling open slightly.

“That’s not true.” He whispered finally, after a beat. “I didn’t forget you. I can never forget you, Is.”

His eyes were blue, blue, blue.

Isak stared into them for a few seconds before he couldn’t take it anymore and had to turn away. His heart broke a little inside. He never thought hearts could break, he had always believed that was all bullshit. But apparently, it was true.

Oh gosh, he was being super emotional again. So he wiped his tears and tried to shed off his sad feelings. He wasn’t weak.

“Doesn’t matter. I am just gonna practice and you can just keep thinking about your pretty girlfriend.” He mumbled before swinging his sword onto the big loaf of meat hanging in front of him.

He gave it a couple more shoves. Up and down. Right and left. Hard and quick. He hit the sack again and again, at various spots, from various angles, with various tricks and moves. It was hard, but he knew it was worth it. If he was going to be a king someday, then he had to be ready.

Even kept standing beside him, and Isak hated that no matter how much he tried he couldn’t not pay attention to Even. Had he zoned out again while standing there? Thinking of Sonja?

But then Even spoke and Isak groaned, “What if we ditched dinner and went to the garden right now?”

Isak frowned deeply. “No way, I’m not coming.”

“Yes, you are.” Even smirked before walking up to him and snatching the wooden sword and throwing it to a pile on the corner.

No way. Isak was not going to agree to him this time.

Isak found himself laying on the green grassy ground and staring up at the orange-hued sky half an hour later. His head was on Even’s lap and Even was weaving his long fingers through his sweaty curls.

“Stop doing that. I smell gross and I’m sweaty.” Isak mumbled when Even started running his fingers all over Isak’s face. It tickled him so he laughed.

“You look so beautiful when you laugh,” Even said softly, staring down into his eyes and cupping his jaw.

“Ugh, stop,” Isak rolled his eyes, but he was blushing.

“Never, not in a million years.”

Isak smelled in the flowers’ scent and relaxed. “I can’t believe I am actually here with my head on your fucking lap of all places.” He scoffed quietly.

Even chuckled from behind him. But he was too busy to reply apparently because he was ruffling around the garden, plucking something off. Isak couldn’t see properly so he watched the sky again, at the birds and the clouds. Everything was going good.

When he felt something on his head a while later he looked up at Even, silently asking him what it was.

“I made you a flower crown,” Even said simply, resuming to arrange it on Isak’s head properly.

“But flowers are for girls. Not for boys. You should keep it on Sonja’s head instead.” Isak mumbled.

Even scoffed from above him. “There is no such rule like that. Who’s teaching you all these?” He sounded truly disappointed.

Isak shrugged, his shoulders shaking Isak’s legs beneath them. “The royal teachers? People? Isn’t it how it always is?”

Even made a small sound, disagreeing with what Isak had just said. “Flowers are for everyone, Isak. For boys, for girls, for animals, and for everyone and everything, okay? There is no such thing as only meant for girls, or only meant for boys. You can do whatever you want. Stop believing this stuff you hear, Isak. You have always loved flowers, what happened to you now?”

Isak shrugged again, his heart felt heavy. He knew he loved flowers even now. He had always loved them. But mamma had always told him to not like girly things, that he was a boy and that he was supposed to like wars and horses and rough things, not things that are soft and pretty. He wasn’t a girl.

“Do you really think it’s okay if I like flowers?” He asked, his voice small.

Even sighed quietly above him and then he bent down slowly before kissing Isak’s forehead. Isak inhaled sharply at that.

“You are allowed to like whatever you want, okay? No one makes rules here, Is. Stop believing what others are telling you to do. You are my valiant prince and you will be a great king. A great king does not fear liking what he likes.” Even murmured to him, weaving through his curls again. “A great king is not afraid to be himself. Will you be a great king for me, Isak?”

“For you?” Isak licked his lips.

“Yes, for me.”

“Yes. I would do anything for you.” Isak admitted out loud, and he was surprised by his own boldness.

He heard Even smile when he said. “So would I,”

Isak blushed at that and ducked his gaze down, away from Even’s face. And watched the early stars. He loved spending time like this with Even. He hadn’t done this in so long. It felt good that Isak could take his mind off Sonja for a while.

“You look really pretty in a flower crown, do you know?” Even hummed from above him.

He retreated his hand back from his hair and cupped Isak’s jaw again, tilting his head so that he could look into his eyes. “You are so pretty,” he said, making Isak blush again.

“Ugh, fuck off,”

“What? I’m not lying. You are the prettiest thing I have ever seen,” Even said, widening his eyes in honesty but he was also grinning.

Isak wanted to punch him. “Even more prettier than Sonja?” He asked instead, averting his gaze away from Even’s intense gaze. He regretted it the moment it was out of his mouth. God, Isak.

He had no idea how long it was, but when they finally got up from there and got back to the castle, it was completely dark. The only thing that was shining were the moon, stars, and Even’s eyes.

Isak showered and got dressed in the softest pajamas before getting into his bed and reading some thick book that he had found in the library.

He wasn’t really expecting anything when Even finally climbed into his bed quietly an hour later and it was dark, pitch black. Isak pretended to be asleep, so he snored softly, and it also helped that he was turned away from Even.

Even tossed and turned around for a while, before cuddling Isak from the back. Isak tensed up a little in his hands before he melted against Even’s chest. Why was he being this tense? They did this all the time. So he leaned back and let Even cuddle him instead. It felt really good, and he felt warm and his eyes started fluttering on their own in no time. He wasn’t expecting anything even when he was just drifting into his sleep slowly, but then he heard Even softly murmur against his ear, “Even prettier than Sonja.”

It almost brought him out of his sleepy daze. Almost.

16 and 18

“Shut up,”

“What do you mean, ‘shut up,’ I’m just trying to fix your bangs. You look pretty when you are grumpy, you know?”

“Shut up!”

“Alright, but don’t you think it will be a bit too much if I pulled my shirt up right here at the hall?”

“Oh my god!”

“All the girls would start swooning at me because I am so hot- ouch!”

Isak punched him in the stomach before hastily pulling his hand back and smiling at the guests. Even watched him with wide eyes by his side.

“You don’t think I’m hot?!” He whispered in outrage. Isak didn’t give him the satisfaction of a grumpy snarky reply.

They were both in costly suits, standing at one side of the hall and greeting all the guests awkwardly. It was the royal ball and somehow people from many other countries visited here to have a nice time. Although most of them called him the ‘little prince Isak,” whenever they greeted him. Fuck you, he was not little anymore.

There was also this princess Emma who seemed way too fond of Isak because she kept looking over to him every now and then before turning away shyly.

Isak wasn’t fond of her.

“I can’t believe you just punched a prince in the stomach.” Even mumbled by his side.

Isak rolled his eyes at him. “I am a prince too.”

Even reached his hand out again and started fixing Isak’s collar with a concentrated look. “Yes you are, little prince.”

“ugh, stop,” Isak groaned.

“Never,”

“Hey guys!” It was Magnus, holding a tray of drinks and serving it to everyone. He looked adorable in his outfit.

“Hey, Mags! My bro.” Even greeted cheerily before hugging Magnus tightly.

Isak smiled at them both and took a drink off the tray. Magnus looked pleased to see two people he knew after all that crowd of new, strange, rich people.

“Bros, just look at all those princesses!” He said excitedly, leaning in and waving a hand over to the bunch of pretty girls with crowns on their forehead. They were all eyeing Isak and Even hungrily and Isak wished he could escape. But his mamma and papa were watching him, so he couldn’t do that. “They are all just eating you with their eyes. Isak, man, what are you waiting for?! Go get one of them!” Magnus hollered.

“Nah, Mags. Not yet.” Isak said, sipping his drink.

“What do you mean ‘not yet’, bro?! They all look so pretty though! Go get some, and tell me how it went.” Magnus demanded.

Before Isak could reply, Even jumped in. “Isak is waiting for the right moment to score with Princess Emma, Mags. That’s why,”

Magnus looked around and when he spotted Emma, his eyes went wide and mischievous. He wiggled his eyebrows at Isak. “Oooh. Princess Emma, Issy?”

Isak‘s jaw tightened a little but he nodded slowly. Emma caught his eyes just then and he waved back to her awkwardly. She looked pleased with that gesture while the remaining princesses were scowling at her.

“Fuck, man. She looks so into you. What are you waiting for? Go get it or she will go for me instead if you wait any longer!” Magnus yelled into his ear loudly before leaving them both to serve other guests.

Isak swallowed and looked up at Even, who was gazing back at him.

“I am gonna go get her then,” he said, fixing his shirt.

“You know you don’t have to, right?” Even said instead, helping him fix his shirt. He tucked Isak’s shirt tightly into his dark pants making him squirm under his touch.

“Yes, but I want to.” Isak lied.

“Don’t lie, Issy. Do you even like her?” Even frowned at him, keeping a hand on the small of his back.

“I’m not lying!” Isak lied. “I really like her. She is very pretty.” And then he shrugged himself off from Even’s touch and headed over to Emma.

An hour later, he found himself trying to dance with princess Emma. It was tough because they were both only teens and none of them knew how to dance or where to put their hands so they kept stomping each other’s feet instead. It was awkward, to say the least. But Emma didn’t seem to mind so much, she giggled and kissed his cheek and touched his hair, so Isak smiled back at her and tried his best because both his mamma and papa were watching and they looked really happy and proud of him. He was going to be the heir to the throne, after all, it was his duty to form strong bonds with other country rulers, and what was a better way than stealing their daughter’s hearts.

So, Isak danced and flirted and got drinks for Emma wishing there was another better way.

When they both were done, Isak headed out to the corridor to breathe in a bit of air and hoping to get away from Emma for a bit, but she found him again within no time. That girl really was too much. Isak felt like she was breathing down his neck every time she got too close to him. She was way too loud and way too giggly and kept falling all over Isak and touching him everywhere she could.

He wanted to combust right then and there. But Even appeared beside him just then like a knight in shining armour.

“You both are having a good time, I see,” he grinned at them both, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“We are! Prince Isak is really charming.” Emma giggled from where she had both her hands wrapped around Isak’s neck.

Isak blushed because for some reason he couldn’t stand Even watching him like this.

“What if I do something stupid to save your ass from princess Emma right now?” Even leaned in, whispering into Isak’s ear so quietly that only he could hear.

Isak widened his eyes at him at that, then shook his head minutely saying ‘no,’ but Even just shrugged and grinned back at Emma.

Oh god.

“Oh, he really is very charming. No doubt.” Even agreed, sipping on his drink and leaning suavely against the wall. “Girls all over the city have a massive crush on him, you know.”

Isak looked over to Even with wide eyes. But Even wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at Emma.

“Oh,” Emma said, her voice was filled with surprise. “Really?”

Even hummed. “Yes, most of those girls are even ready to jump in to marry Isak if he asks them. They are that gone for him. He really charms them all well.”

Isak was barely understanding what Even was on about. This was totally not true.

“Charms them? What do you mean?” Emma asked, sounding suspicious.

Even blinked once and averted his gaze to Isak’s once, before looking back at Emma in amusement. A smile playing on his lips.

“You haven’t heard? He charms them all so well that many of them try seducing him right then and there. He says he refuses them but I know it’s a lie. Why would he refuse them when he just flirted with all of them, right? You can only imagine what goes on between him and all the girls over the city.” Even was full-on grinning now and Isak was blushing furiously even though none of it was true. “No wonder every girl is crazy for him.”

He then leaned in and whispered into Emma’s ear, “I heard he is also dating one of them in secret.”

What the fucking fuck.

“Shut up, that’s not-“

“-oh my god, really?” Emma interrupted Isak, her eyes wide as she looked up at Isak. She looked shocked.

“Wha- no! No, of course not-“

“Look, he is lying again.” Even said, smirking.

Emma removed her hands from Isak’s neck slowly and took a step back, making space between them. Isak felt like he could finally breathe.

“I- wow- I just uh, I am sorry my prince,” she cracked a laugh that sounded more broken than anything else. “I didn’t know you had someone. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have thrown myself at you this way-“

“-Emma, just don’t believe Even. He is an idiot. I’m not seeing anyone else.” Isak tried telling her, but she wasn’t looking at him.

“What? Oh, it’s okay, my prince. I don’t really care, but uh, I have some work, I’ll just leave I guess. Have a good time with uh, your secret lover.” Her face was comical as she excused herself from them both.

He watched her retreating back with his jaw hung open.

And Even had the audacity to speak. “You are seeing someone in secret? I’m hurt, Isak.”

“You fucking asshole.” Isak hissed at Even once Emma was gone.

“I was wondering why you hadn’t said that yet,” Even hummed, smiling.

“What’d you do that for?” Isak cried.

Even just shrugged at him. “Because you looked like you need help. Besides, that poor girl is gonna get nightmares of you every time she sees any other girl in the city. And you are mine so sorry, I can’t share you with anyone else.” He winked. He fucking winked.

“That was so fucking bad, Ev. I swear to god.” Isak groaned. “Ugh, I hate you so much right now.”

“No, you don’t. I saved you from a very clingy monster dressed like a princess.”

“Fucking hell, I am not talking to you again. I really liked her.”

Even raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh really? You liked her?”

“Yes. Why? Don’t you think I can’t like girls?” Isak said defensively, furrowing his brows.

Even only sighed at him. “No, that’s not what I meant, baby.”

“Don’t call me a baby. Then what, Even? Do you think only you are allowed to get a girlfriend but not me? That’s fucked up.” Isak spat, annoyed.

“No- fuck, I’m sorry, Isak.” Even’s eyes were wide, and he looked like he was really sorry. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Isak stared at him for a beat or two before turning away. “Whatever. Go fucking enjoy with your girlfriend and leave me alone.”

He knew he had over-reacted as he fell on top of his king-sized bed that night. He and Even weren’t sleeping together anymore and Even had gotten his own big room. He couldn’t even get the point of making them both sleep together for all these years only to separate them now.

He was regretting his words and his reaction right now and was thinking of just sneaking into Even’s room to apologize to him when he heard loud familiar voices from his right wall. It was Even and Sonja. They were sleeping together now?

But then he started hearing words and curses and he knew they were arguing. Even had invited Sonja over here as well last week and Isak hated watching her stroll around arm-in-arm with Even day and night as if she owned him. He hated it, and he hated everything that wasn’t Even these days.

Another string of arguments pulled him out of his thoughts and he focused on that now. They were clearly arguing, fighting even. He had never heard Even yell like this at anyone, but Sonja’s voice was even louder. They were having issues, and Isak had no idea about what.

A few minutes after the continuous bickering, someone slammed something hard onto the ground, and then there was this loud sound of a door shutting close. Isak knew it was over and someone had stormed out.

What was happening?

Were they breaking up..?

Isak’s heart was beating quick when the door to his room slowly opened and Even entered inside, looking worn out.

“I’m sorry, Is. Can I sleep in your room for tonight? Please.”

“You were right. I didn’t like Emma. I never liked her.”

17 and 20

“What if I can make it up to you?”

“Even, I just fucking hate you, alright? Leave me alone.” Isak said, slamming the room to his door loudly. He didn’t want to hear any more of Even’s bullshit so he went straight to his bed and fell on top of it, burrowing his face into the pillow Even always slept. He inhaled the scent and felt something stirring inside him.

A weight dropped beside him and the next second someone was cuddling him from his side. Fucking Even. Of course, he followed Isak back into his room. Even literally had no sense of privacy. Not when it came to Isak at least.

“Ugh, why are you here?” Isak groaned into his pillow.

“What if I can make up to you?” Even repeated, to his ear this time. It gave Isak chills.

“How?”

This year, Even was back only for a week or so and Isak was already anticipating him leaving tomorrow when today Even had the audacity to leave the palace and spend his more than four hours flirting with the village girls and boys.

Look, Isak wasn’t being possessive, or fuck it, he had no idea, okay? But he knew he was definitely not controlling like Sonja was. Sonja and Even had broken up and Isak really knew now what that whole argument or fight was about.

But that’s not the matter right now. He wasn’t usually possessive, but look, he hated that Even just left him like that on the last day he was going to spend here in Oslo before he would be back in Bergen. He and Even were supposed to spend their whole day together but Even had ditched him in the evening to flirt with some girls and returned back at dinner and he was going to leave tomorrow morning.

Of course, Isak was pissed and annoyed. Why couldn’t Even flirt with him instead?

Fucking Even.

“I just can,” Even replied smoothly and Isak turned to him suspiciously.

“No, you can’t. I’m really hurt right now. Nothing can mend my broken heart.” Isak said instead. “And I really, really hate you right now.”

Even rolled his eyes at him fondly before cupping Isak’s chin with his hand. Then he leaned in and slowly asked, “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”

Isak shuddered at that. They were so close. “No, of course not, Even. You would know if I kissed someone. Stop asking all the weir-”

Even shut him up with his own lips, kissing him. Isak whimpered and let out a surprised squeak before furiously trying to kiss Even back. Holy fuck, he was definitely dreaming. He was kissing Even. And nothing had ever felt so right in the universe.

Even kissed him gently and softly, he wasn’t rushing it, like he was savouring Isak’s lips, memorizing the way it moved and the way it tasted. It felt like he was trying to please Isak and it definitely was working. Isak moaned and hummed around their lips. He couldn’t believe it. He went pliant in Even’s arms and let him kiss him again and again and again until Isak could only see and feel and touch only Even, Even, and Even.

“Did I succeed in making up to you?”

“Hell yeah,”

19 and 22

Isak was fucked. Literally. He just realized how much he was crushing on Even and how badly he wanted him that way. The way every boy wanted the girl. And he was fucked now.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Even’s naked back as he stretched and yawned in the early morning like a cat.

Isak watched his muscles flex and his spine stretch and shoulders move from where he was still pretending to be asleep with his blanket over his head.

Even looked good. He probably was one of the most handsome men Isak had ever seen all his life. Yes, Even was a man now and it made Isak swoon over him.

Just as Even got off the bed, he caught a glimpse of his collarbone, and Isak’s mouth watered as he imagined himself licking it. Gosh.

Even had returned back to Oslo again two years later and he looked so good. He had grown way taller and had gotten way more muscles. His hair was longer and swooped back on his head. It made him look so sexy and hot and Isak couldn’t breathe every time their eyes met. Someone kill him, God.

“Is it bad I want him to do every evil thing he can to me?”

He said out loud, still drooling over the new, tall and hot version of Even as he practiced his sword fighting while Magnus fed the sheep beside him in the shed. He was getting really good at it and he had even defeated and killed some of the sworn enemy’s sneaky conspirators a couple of times. This was his favorite sword and he named it ‘Illuminati,’ because it sounded cool.

He heard something clatter to the ground and turned to look at Magnus who was watching him with wide eyes. “What the fuck, bro?”

Isak nodded gravely, not even caring about the fact that he just said ‘he’ out loud instead of a ‘she’.

“Who are you even talking about?” Magnus squinted at him, looking shocked. When he looked at where Isak’s gaze was pointing to, his eyes widened.

“Fuck bro. Even?”

Isak nodded again. Even was there, riding his black horse and greeting everyone on the way with a huge beam. He looked so pretty.

“Mags, I think I like Even.” Isak couldn’t believe his own voice. How was the feeling this brave to admit that out loud? But he was also fucking tired of lying to himself. He liked Even that way and he had known it for a long time but he never let himself accept it. He couldn’t do that anymore though. He just didn’t think he could keep it in himself when Even had kissed the last time he was here. The only thing that was repeating in Isak’s head was their kiss and how good it had felt.

He had kissed many girls after that, but all of them felt wrong. He realized he didn’t like girls. He had never liked girls. It scared him, but also comforted him, made him realize why he could just never feel the same like all his other friends did.

“Seriously, bro?!” Magnus came over to him. He was almost as tall as Isak now.

“yes,” Isak nodded, licking his lips and aiming at the sack with his sharp steel sword. It cut it in two halves.

Magnus looked mind blown, as if he just discovered some great theory. “Fucking hell, bro. That is awesome. Shit, I think I always knew why you looked at Even that way.” He was beaming so huge Isak wanted to shut him up.

“What way?” He frowned instead.

“The way I watch the girls.” Magnus winked at him and Isak groaned, blushing furiously.

“Fuck off,”

“But bro. What about Even then? Have you told him about how you feel yet?” Magnus shuffled closer to him, lowering his voice so that no one could hear them.

Isak’s heart clenched at that and his jaw tightened. “No, Mags. He doesn’t like me that way.” He cast his gaze down and started fiddling with his fingers.

Magnus looked almost disappointed at that information. “What? But how do you know?”

“I just do.” Isak shrugged. If Even did like him, he would have told him.

“Bullshit bro. Have you ever seen the way Even looks at you? He looks at you like you are the most precious thing to him. Kid you not, I thought Even had a secret crush on you for several years after we became friends.” Magnus huffed. “He definitely fancies you, bro.”

Isak bit his lip, considering what Magnus had just said. Did Even really look at him that way? Did he really like Isak?

“We even kissed,” He admitted quietly.

A squeak. And Magnus was right in his face now. “Are you fucking kidding? You both kissed?” He yelled, making Isak flinch. A few of the guards watched them with a stone face and Isak slapped Magnus’s arm so he would shut up.

“Yes, we did. Two years back.” He said.

“Fucking hell. Who kissed first? Details, Isak. I need more details!” Magnus demanded and Isak let out a groan, slightly regretting telling Isak, but he started telling the story anyway. About him getting jealous whenever Even flirted with other girls or whenever he was with Sonja, about their kiss and how Isak couldn’t believe it was finally happening, about how they never talked about it again and Isak was too flustered to bring it up so he pretended that it never happened, about how even now Even would sneak into his room at night and slept along with Isak, about how Even would always call him pretty and it used to make Isak question his sexuality. He told him everything, every single thing. He poured his heart out. And when he was finally done, Magnus was full-on grinning now and Isak couldn’t believe he just poured his heart out to Magnus of all people.

“And now you can’t take your eyes off him,” Magnus concluded, looking back at Even out in the vast field.

“Now I can’t take my eyes off him.” Isak agreed.

“Fucking hell, this is like a fairy tale.” Magnus mused with a smile. Isak rolled his eyes.

“This is anything but a fairytale.”

Magnus waved him off and got up, dusting his dress and he went back to the shed. As he walked in, he shouted over back to Isak, “Looking at someone like they are their universe, kissing them, and sneaking into their bed every night doesn’t seem like something a normal friend would do, Isak. You should stop thinking so hard and tell him.” He winked before disappearing inside.

Isak stared back at him for several minutes before letting out a sigh. ‘A true king is not afraid to be himself.’ Even’s words rang in his mind after all these years.

He would have to do this then, wouldn’t he?

21 and 23

“Even, I swear to god if anyone hears and informs my parents-“

-calm down, baby. Just enjoy.”

“They are the fucking king and quee- ahh“

Even dived back in and Isak moaned so loud he panicked he alerted the guards outside. But luckily, none of them barged in. Even didn’t stop, he kept going up and down, up and down and soon Isak was panting.

When they both were coming down from their high finally, sweaty bodies on top of each other, Isak let out a giggle.

“Fucking hell,”

Even smiled down at him, then rolled back to his side. “I can’t believe I fucked the prince in his own room. I should get paid for this.”

Isak shoved him with a laugh before Even pulled him into himself and he rested his head on his shoulder.

“Did you know I begged my mum to let me sleep with you when we were younger because I liked you a lot and wanted to watch you sleep because you looked so adorable?” Even said, suddenly.

Isak widened his eyes at that. “What the fuck, really?” Even nodded back at him and Isak couldn’t believe it.

“Wow..”

“Yeah, I used to pretend that I was scared of sleeping alone here in your castle and somehow my mum believed it and your mum agreed to let us sleep together.” He laughed. Bright and loud.

And Isak laughed along with him too. Even rubbed his hand up and down his back and they calmed their giggles down after a while. They were together exactly for a year but only got to touch each other for two weeks and a half or so. Because they both got together the year before and Even had left again a week later and only came back here now one and a half week ago. So they were trying their best to spend as much time together as they could without making it more suspicious.

It was going fine, but they knew something had to happen first. They had to come out. They couldn’t keep living in secret like this forever. Isak didn’t want it and neither did Even. Isak was ready to die if he wanted, but he wasn’t going to let their love be imprisoned this way.

“What if we get caught one day?” Even said quietly, drawing circles on Isak's back.

“Then we explain to them. Tell them we are together,”

“And what if they don’t accept us?”

Isak shuffled closer to him. “We will flip them off and elope togteher.”

“Oh yeah?” There was a smile in Even’s voice.

“Yeah,”

“To where?”

“To a place where we are safe.”

“Okay. What if they torture Magnus over here because he supported us all this time.”

Isak scowled. “Then we take him along with us. Find him a girl. Marry them both.”

Even let out a small laugh. “That sounds really nice.”

“It does.”

“I’m so glad you asked me out that day, baby.” Isak lifted his face up and smiled down at Even.

“I am glad too. Or I wouldn’t be here with you right now, naked and kissing you.”

Even grinned up at him in the darkness. “And you wouldn’t have known how good I was at fucking you.”

“oh my god, you are so dirty.” Isak groaned, palming his face. They both laughed for another few minutes before Even resorted back to stroking his back softly.

“You don’t know how badly I wanted this. Us. You.” He said quietly, and Isak shook his head at him lightly.

“Trust me, I do. Because I wanted this too.”

Even stared into his eyes at that, a fond look on his face, and Isak did the same before they kissed each other again for a while. Isak slumped back into Even’s chest contently after that and they pulled the blanket tighter around themselves. It was a miracle no one ever came to check upon them.

“We really owe Magnus a lot, don’t we?”

24 and 26

They were in Bali. In fucking Bali, during the fuming hot, summer.

Isak couldn’t believe it. It had taken so long for them to arrive here. They had to spend so much time on various huge ships and here they were finally.

Relaxing on one of the finest beaches, shirtless and with lemonades resting on either side of them. Isak had his country to rule, his own palace, his personal advisor Magnus and most important of all, his lover, Prince Even. So yes, life was going great. Except for one small thing. But he wasn’t going to bring that topic up now.

Let’s talk about something else. First things first, Isak is a king now. Yes, he is a king but not Even. Because Isak’s father passed away two years back in the battle and now he was crowned the king of the Norsk. Even’s parents were safe and sound, thank you.

The year Isak became a king, he knew he had the power to come out as a homosexual and claim Even as his lover, openly and freely, and people wouldn’t object. Wouldn’t dare to. His own mum had accepted them both so of course, none of the people really cared very much. As for Even, it’s his story to tell, but in the end, he was accepted by his parents too.

And now, here they were, in Bali. Having a vacation after a successful battle the previous year. Even was Isak’s boyfriend and Isak was Even’s. It was good. Life was good.

Except for that one small thing that was bothering Isak for the past two months.

“I love it here so much, Isak, God.” Even whined from his side, interrupting Isak’s thoughts. He stretched and Isak stared at his beautiful, long body. His lover’s body.

His heart bloomed every time he referred to Even as a ‘lover’.

“What if we just stayed here for the rest of our lives?” Even asked, looking at Isak with a smile. He looked gorgeous in the sun. He had tanned a little in the past few days.

“Then we will.”

Even grinned wider and turned to his front before slowly making his way over to Isak with his elbows and finally stopping by his chest.

“No, because I want to see more of the world. I want to see the world with you.”

Isak stroked through his blonde hair and kissed him. “I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

Even melted in front of him and his smile turned much softer. “I love you,” he mumbled, kissing Isak’s nose and then hovering above his lips.

“I love you too,” Isak murmured back, and Even was kissing him the next moment.

They made out for a while in the sun, rolling on the beach sand like two horny starfishes until they both had to come up for air.

Even was watching him and he was feeling good. They both were feeling good and Isak thought this might be the right time to tell his lover.

“Um, baby,” He started, watching Even’s face trying to see all his reaction as he sat up straighter. “As much as I love hearing people call you my ‘lover’,” he emphasized on the last part and saw Even frowning slightly at right now. “I wonder how it would be if they called you my ‘husband.’”

He wished he could just freeze the exact moment when Even’s eyes widened and he looked so surprised it made Isak’s heart well inside his chest. But he was also very, very nervous right now.

Even wasn’t speaking anything, but his face was filled with emotions. He was red and flustered and shocked and bemused and looked surprised overall. As if he wasn’t expecting this.

But then, his upper lip quirked up and there was a hint of a smile. A smile that contained just too many emotions. And that was enough for Isak to go ahead.

He faced Even and pulled the ring out of his pocket. He opened it and held it shakily to Even.

“What if I asked you to marry me right now?”

A beat.

“I would say yes.”

#evak drabble #skam #evak #This is almost 9k fgsdkhfdk #my drabbles

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kar-krashew · 3 years

Text

@arsenic-creator THIS IS THE CHEESIEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN BUT HERE'S YOUR CARS AU MALEC FIC.

(Rated T for language).

----

There are a lot of things that Alec misses about life outside this shitty little town, even though he’s only been here for a few days: his family, his friends, his cell phone— he could go on for a while. Hell, he even misses Aldertree’s incessant bragging at this point, which is a little concerning, because the man is a menace and just generally unpleasant to be around. The fact that Alec has not had a very public fistfight with him yet is a goddamn miracle.

But— he’s getting distracted. The point is, there are a lot of things on that list.

So, it’s genuinely impressive when Simon shows up and rambles for long enough that all Alec really misses now is some peace and quiet, because Simon does not know when to shut up, oh my god—

“What happens if you get pulled over on the road and you don’t have your license on you? Do the cops just let you go? I mean, you are a world famous racer, so it would be assumed that you know how to drive, right?” he pesters, “Or do you still get in trouble?”

Alec groans. He’s been dealing with this for the better part of an hour now, and throwing himself into a nearby cactus plant has never seemed more appealing. Simon, ruiner of lives and seemingly oblivious to Alec’s current temperament, barrels on steadily in his rant about cops and racers until they approach the main part of the plaza, where he suddenly pauses and grins.

Dread claws its way up Alec’s shoulders. Simon grinning like that can only bring bad things.

“So,” the kid drawls, “Where are you staying tonight? Anywhere special? In the spare bedroom of a local attorney, by the name of Magnus Bane, perhaps?”

Scratch that: Alec’s going to throw Simon into a nearby cactus plant, and he won’t even feel a little bit guilty. He could make it look like an accident and everything.

“Fuck off, Simon,” he scowls. He tries increasing his pace to ditch the kid, but Simon is nothing if not persistent. “Don’t you have anything else to be doing right now?”

“Nope.” Simon pops the word in his mouth, grin growing even wider. “You like him. Like, like-like him!” he declares, leaning in closer. “If it helps, I think he likes you, too.”

“Are we fifth graders now? Is that what’s happening?” Alec pointedly ignores the blush threatening to take over his face, and glowers down at the brunette. “Besides, he’s just being nice. It doesn’t have to mean something.” He’d meant to sound firm and sure when he said it, but his voice tapers off and gets soft instead, and now Alec is considering committing multiple misdemeanors if it means he’ll get out of this conversation. Simon shoots him a knowing look.

“But you want it to mean something,” he observes. Alec rolls his eyes, not bothering to grace the statement with a response. Simon takes it as an open invitation to start singing a very loud and terrible rendition of a song about Alec and Magnus sitting in a tree, and it’s enough for Alec to give in and violently shove the other.

Unfortunately, Simon does not hit any of the cacti nearby.

God, Alec hates this town.

---

The thing about Magnus Bane is that, well—

The man is fucking beautiful. Like, holy-shit-Alec-can't-breathe-around-him beautiful, with golden skin and kohl-lined eyes and dark hair and a jawline that Alec would love to get up close and personal with.

The first time they’d met, Alec made a complete ass out of himself by stumbling all over his words in court and then had gotten himself stuck doing community service, largely because of Magnus, for the god-forsaken town he’d managed to land himself in.

(Look, it’s not his fault that he somehow managed to destroy the town’s main road after veering wildly off course and out of control on his way to Brooklyn, okay? These things happen.)

It had kind of been all downhill from there.

But now, somehow, he’s lying in Magnus’s spare bedroom and watching the sunlight as it touches everything in the room with its golden glow, illuminating the walls, the potted plants, the shelves, the man leaning against the doorway—

“Holy shit!”

Alec scrambles to sit up in bed, frantically pulling up the sheets to his bare chest, as Magnus laughs. “Magnus!” Alec squeaks. “I, um, what’re you doing here?”

Magnus grins, rounding the corner of the bed to place a tray in front of Alec. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast,” he says, “before I asked you if you wanted to go for a drive.”

Alec frowns. “A drive?”

“A drive,” Magnus repeats, shrugging a shoulder. “I wanted to show you something, and took the liberty of filling your car up with gas again.”

“Wha— Why? You don’t think I’ll try leaving town again?” The only reason Alec hadn’t been able to leave when he first tried had been the lack of fuel in his tank, so he’s genuinely confused as to why Magnus decided to change that.

“I don’t know, will you?” the other asks. He tilts his head, looking gentle and blurred in his robe and smiling softly, something warm cradled in his eyes, and Alec knows with sudden certainty that he won’t. He might’ve said yes a few days ago, but now?

“No,” he replies. “I won’t.”

“That’s that, then,” Magnus beams, and Alec can’t help beaming back a little stupidly. “I trust you. Now, finish up, Alexander. We’ve got daylight to catch.”

---

“Where do you want me to go?”

They’re both sitting in Alec’s car, windows rolled down, on an old road leading away from the interstate. It’s beautiful out here— green trees circling a little lake tucked in between the rocks and dirt— but Alec has a feeling it’s not what Magnus wanted to show him.

“Just follow the path,” Magnus instructs, unbuckling his seatbelt. He turns to Alec and winks, before hoisting himself so that he’s sitting halfway out of the window, laughing at Alec’s surprised yelp and swerve of the car. “Careful there, hotshot!” he giggles, then leans further out like he’s got a fucking death wish, closing his eyes against the wind.

“Are you insane?” Alec yells out, and Magnus laughs harder.

“All the best people are, darling!” he responds. “I’ll be just peachy. Just keep going, we’re about to get to my favorite part!”

Alec’s about to yell out again, probably something like you have a favorite part of almost dying? or I think I’m halfway in love with you as they pass through a rocky tunnel, but before he can say either, his breath catches at the sight in front of him.

A huge, sparkling waterfall cascades down from the mountains, overlooking the rocky canyon and trees below it, framing the bridge that hangs in between. It almost doesn’t look real, more like something out of a corny road trip movie or a documentary, and Alec slows down as they approach it, taking it in. Magnus grins as they pass by, leaning out to catch errant drops of water on his fingertips, and God, it’s such a cliché and cheesy thing to do, and Alec wants to kiss him straight on his stupid mouth.

“I bet you don’t see that out in the city,” Magnus says smugly, tucking himself back into the car. He glances back at Alec with a smirk on his lips, running a hand through his wind-mussed hair. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” Alec breathes, staring at Magnus’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “It really is.”

(Fuck, now he’s the one being cliché. Izzy’s going to find out about this somehow and laugh at him forever.)

“Right.” Magnus clears his throat, looking away, jarring Alec back to reality. “We’re almost there, just pull up at the sign there,” he continues, pointing to a clearing ahead.

Alec coughs, nodding. “Right. Yes. The sign.”

The sign in question is a small landmark that points to a dilapidated, out-of-place building hidden between the rock of the mountain. “The Hotel Dumont,” the front reads, paint chipped away at the edges of the letters. The building looks Victorian in design, with intricate arches decorating the front, though many of them are cracked and gray now, and there’s a large open courtyard area in the front that appears abandoned now. It must’ve been beautiful, once. Now, it carries only echoes of a world passed.

“What is this place?” Alec asks. Magnus shakes his head and exits the car, then stands and stares at the sign for a while when Alec joins him.

“This used to be their livelihood,” he finally says, “The Hotel Dumont. Raphael used to run it, and everyone else would pitch in. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like earlier: parties in the main hall, music playing in the foyer, people laughing. It kept them going.”

“What happened?”

Magnus smiles wistfully. “A famous racer by the name of Valentine dropped a particularly scathing review of the hotel after Raphael caught him harassing customers and kicked him out. Had enough influence and lawyers to destroy all of this place’s credibility. These days, everyone’s barely getting by. It’s why they took so long to warm up to you; you essentially represent everything that ruined them.”

That’s horrible, Alec wants to say, but instead he looks over at Magnus and notes his glittering makeup and golden rings and silk tunic and blurts out, “Then how did you end up here?” and immediately winces.

It’s a valid question, technically— Magnus obviously wasn’t one of the town’s original residents, if his extravagant nature and the way he discusses the hotel are any indication— but still. Alec could’ve been gentler about it.

“I was an attorney in L.A, actually,” Magnus sighs. “It was good, I suppose, and money was never an issue, but I don’t think I was happy.” He shuffles closer to Alec as they idle in front of the building, brushing their shoulders together. “Got myself horribly drunk one night and made a whole plan to run away and leave the city behind. I woke up the next day, saw the plans, decided I might as well, and just started driving until my car finally broke down here.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Alec reaches out to touch his fingertips to Magnus’s comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like.”

Magnus turns to face him completely then, looking up at him knowingly. “Can’t you?” he asks. He takes Alec’s palms in his own and holds their hands between them. “Are you happy out there, Alexander?”

Alec blinks, startled. “Of course I am,” he protests automatically, because why wouldn’t he be? He’s rich, he’s famous, he’s doing what he loves; it’s all perfect. And yet—

He thinks about the constant pressure from his family and fans to be perfect and flashy and smiling all the time. He thinks back to his mother’s desperate attempts to hide his sexuality from the media, setting him up for meeting after meeting with beautiful women. He thinks about the façade he’s made for himself against the person he is right now, standing here with Magnus, and realizes that they’ve never been the same.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I— I’m not sure.��

Magnus hums. He looks back at the hotel, Alec’s hands still clutched in his own. “You don’t have to leave, you know. You could stay here,” he says.

Alec surveys the landscape, then the man in front of him. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I think I could.”

---

He never gets to find out, because the next day it all goes to hell: Maryse Lightwood descends on the town, armed with a fleet of reporters and a truck waiting to take Alec away.

“We’re going now, Alec,” she demands. “Say goodbye to your ‘friends’ if you need to, and then we’re leaving.” She glances warily over at Magnus, who’s holding Alec’s hand, and frowns before she turns on her heel and walks away.

“So,” Magnus says flatly, “It appears you’re finally getting to that race.”

Alec wants to scream. He hates this, hates that this is how it’s going to end, before it’s even truly begun. If he just had more time—

“Magnus, I wanted to—” he starts, “I wish we—” He exhales, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, and Magnus smiles.

“It’s alright, Alexander. Just stay in touch, okay?” He pats Alec’s shoulder. “Go on, darling. I don’t think your mother would appreciate me keeping you any longer than I already have.”

Alec hesitates a moment more, wanting to do something, anything, to make this different, but then he swallows and steps away.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll, I’ll call you.”

(It won’t change anything: his life will be exactly the same as it was before. Just one phone call added onto the routine. They both know this is goodbye to whatever they could be.)

Still, Magnus squeezes his fingers and keeps smiling. “I’ll be waiting, Alexander,” he says.

“Sure,” Alec replies uselessly.

So he’s here now, weeks later, sitting on the stands and supposedly getting ready for a race that he doesn’t have heart in anymore.

Honestly, fuck this race. They all go the same way: he’ll race, he’ll win or lose, he’ll pose with some model for a newspaper, and that’ll be it. It used to be enough for him, once.

“Alec?” a voice interrupts, “You okay?”

It’s Izzy, crackling through the comms piece in his ear. Alec clears his throat. “Yeah,” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as brittle over the mic as it feels, “I’m fine.”

He’ll swallow his emotions and make it enough, again.

“Alright,” Izzy concedes, but she sounds disbelieving, “If you say so. It’s almost time, you might want to head to the car soon, okay?”

Alec hums in the affirmative, heading down to the track, paparazzi trying their best to bombard him. He takes a deep breath, avoiding the cameras, and opens the driver's side door of the car.

He’ll call Magnus after this. It’ll be enough.

Alec ducks under the roof of the vehicle. “Hey, Izzy?” he calls, seating himself behind the wheel. “If I win, remind me to call Magnus, okay?”

“I’m afraid that would be a little redundant, darling,” a new voice replies, and Alec’s heart skips a beat. “Given that you’ll be talking to me already.”

Magnus.

“Magnus?” Alec fucking leaps out of his car, searching frantically around the pit for the man in his ear. A warm laugh floods the comms, and Alec feverishly pushes past cameramen and well-meaning assistants (who are trying to remind him that he really should be in his car right now) in his desperation, only to turn around and:

It’s him. It’s really him, smiling warmly at Alec with his gorgeous brown eyes, wearing black eyeliner to match the Lightwood tracksuit he’s wearing, and Alec missed him so much, oh god, he’s really here—

“Magnus,” he breathes, then he’s throwing his helmet down and closing the distance between them and pulling at Magnus’s lapels, up, up, up, and straight to his own mouth.

He’s kissing him.

Magnus is gripping onto his face too tightly and Alec is clacking their teeth together too harshly, but it’s Magnus, and it’s perfect, and Alec is kissing him, and he could lose every race from this moment on and still feel like he’s on top of the world if it means he’ll get to have this.

“You came,” he whispers when they finally pull apart. Magnus cups his face, stealing another kiss, before he responds.

“Of course I did. Honestly, I’m offended you didn’t ask for me to show up here, yourself,” he teases, and Alec grins bashfully.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” he replies. Magnus rolls his eyes before pressing their foreheads together.

“Well, darling, we better change that soon, hm?” He twirls his fingers at the nape of Alec’s neck, and time feels like it's perfect and frozen forever in this moment, until Magnus clears his throat.

“I hate to interrupt this, Alexander, but there’s a race and a very excited group of reporters waiting for you, and you should probably get back to both. Unless, of course, you’re not planning to participate?”

Alec snorts and pulls away, loosening his grip around Magnus’s waist. “I plan on participating, Magnus,” he says. “I have a very special someone I’d like to dedicate the trophy to, if they’re open to the idea.”

Magnus grins. “Mmm, you’d have to win, first, wouldn’t you?” he winks, and Alec smirks back.

“For you?” he replies. “I’d do nothing less.”

Alec knows that he’s going to have an absolute media shitstorm waiting for him after he ends this race. But, looking back at a beaming Magnus as he picks his helmet up, he thinks it just might be worth it.

God, Alec loves that town. He's not sure why he ever thought otherwise.

#my writing #fic #malec fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #cars #this is a fucking cars au #im not even ashamed #simon lewis #Simon is MATER lmao #shadowhunters #life is a highway blares in the background

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