#at that point magnus had already lost a finger; ten years off of his life; and the memory of the man who killed his wife

[missmatchedducknoodles]

forever crying over the fact that magnus was fully willing to take on another sacrifice so that taako wouldn’t have to forfeit his looks bc magnus knows how important taako’s looks are to him

#fr like the level of deep understanding he has #and they love each other so much #at that point magnus had already lost a finger; ten years off of his life; and the memory of the man who killed his wife #aka his vengance quest #and he was willing to take on MORE because he just loves his friends *so much* #taz #taz balance #the suffering game #magnus is my best friend and i love him #screaming and crying and sobbing and living in the bog

[high-warlock-of-brooklyn]

The Devil's in the details, and Cupid's in STI clinics

Ao3 LINK

Summary: “Come on! We’ll make a day of it!”

“No.”    

“It’ll be like when we were kids- like a boy’s night out!”    

“No!”    

“Come on, Alec!”    

“For the last time, and I can’t believe I have to say this, no, I will not go to a STI testing with you!” 

Jace is persuasive, Alec really hates his brother, and Cupid is laughing maniacally from wherever that bastard hides from people.

For @shadowhunterbingo Square filled: First Date

............

“Come on! We’ll make a day of it!”

“No.”

“It’ll be like when we were kids- like a boy’s night out!”

“No!”

“Come on, Alec!”

“For the last time, and I can’t believe I have to say this, no, I will not go to a STI testing with you!”

Alec rolls his eyes. He puts the last washed dish to dry on the rack, then grabs a kitchen towel to dry his own hands, all the while Jace’s breathing is loud on the speakerphone.

“I’m pretty sure my neighbours can hear you breathing, idiot.” Alec rolls his eyes, switching from speakers to handset with a tap.

“It’s important to stay safe, brother, even if the frequency of someone’s sex life might qualify them for priesthood.”

Alec rolls his eyes. “Fuck you, asshole.”

“Yes and we both need to be tested before anyone does that.” Jace’s chuckle comes out as tinny, the call quality clearly dropping. “Tell me, since when’s the last time you got tested?”

“Last year.” Alec answers after a beat.

“As someone who cares about your physical well being, I am concerned. As someone who cares about your love life, I am concerned with a capital C.”

“You’re insufferable.” Alec rubs his temple wearily. “Fine, I’ll go with you.”

“I’ll pick you up at ten.” Jace says. “Wear sensible shoes.”

“I hate you.”

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

Alec does, in fact, hate him at least a tiny bit. Especially since he’s twenty minutes late. In pouring rain. On his only day off in two weeks. Finally at a quarter to eleven, Jace’s old Toyota shows up.

“What the actual fuck, dude!” Alec yells at him as soon as the door opens.

“I’m so fucking sorry, okay?” Jace notices the tremors in Alec, and turns the heat all the way up.

“What the hell happened?” Alec rubs his hands together to generate more body heat. “I’ve called you like a hundred times.”

“The car got stuck. I got down to see what’s wrong, and my phone slipped out of my pocket and into a puddle. Then I saw the tire got punctured. I had to run home and get a stepni.”

“For the love of God.” Alec swears.

“Do you still wanna go today?” Jace asks. “I won’t mind if you say no. I know you’ve been working at the office for weeks straight.”

“I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Alec sighs. “Besides, you’re right. Health is an important issue. Especially if you’re disowned by your parents and have to live on your own without any safety net to fall on if you do accidentally catch something.”

“Hey, you know you always got me and Izzy, right?”

“I know.” Alec gives him a tight nod.

“Hey Alec, you know what I just realized?” Jace smirks with a hidden joke. “You’ve got a friend in me.”

“If you play that song on a loop again I swear to God!” Alec warns.

“Too late!” Jace hits the aux button with a shiteating grin.

Alec groans into his hands. “I hate you so much.”

-----------

“Er- Jace?”

“What?”

“Jace!” Alec hits his brother with his elbow. “What do I say?”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t just go and say whatever comes to mind!” Alec sounds horrified. “What am I gonna ask, ‘hey come here often?’ Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Just go up and ask about our appointment.” Jace nudges him towards the counter.

“Our appointment was seventy five minutes ago! I can’t just go there and ask about it after we’re so late!” Jace detects the slight panic in Alec’s voice.

“You’re asking them for a rescheduling. With only one other patient in the office waiting. It’s not even that big a deal. Just go up to the counter.”

“We need a game plan.” Alec seems ready to plan a battle from the look of it.

“You goddamn introvert.” Jace shakes his head. “The receptionist is not a monster. They’re not gonna try to eat you for trying to reschedule!”

“Hi there!”

Jace and Alec jump just as the partition slides open all of a sudden, the cheery voice of the receptionist floating through. The pancakes from breakfast sit heavier in Alec’s stomach with every second he spends looking at the receptionist.

“Sorry to jump you both like this.” The beautiful man smiles. “But we’re going on break soon and since we have a birthday party later, we were wondering if we can finish up with all the appointments before we take a long break. I really hope you understand.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, I mean- we totally understand- whatever we can do to- actually you know what, our appointment time’s already over, I mean- how important is a STI checkup? Pff, not much, I’ll say.” Alec chokes out a nervous laugh.

“God, it’s like looking at a trainwreck in slow motion.” Jace covers his eyes with a hand.

“Um….” The receptionist- Magnus, Alec reads the name card- looks between the two of them confusedly.

“What this human disaster here,” Jace sends a disappointed glance towards Alec, “was trying to ask is, can we reschedule an appointment from about an hour and a half ago? We had a flat tire and the rain really blocked the roads.”

“I’m sure I can squeeze you in for a quick swab test.” Magnus smiles sweetly, tapping away at the computer. “Someone will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.” Alec offers him a small smile.

“So, couples coming together for tests is very good for the relationship.” Magnus nods knowingly. Alec feels like he’s choking on air.

Jace chuckles, sarcasm heavy in his voice. “Oh yeah, we were practically joined at the hips since we were ten. But Chucklebunny here turns out wanted to be joined at the hearts too. He always says I’m the one for him, and vice versa of course.”

“You’re so annoying.” Alec rolls his eyes at Jace’s antics.

“You wuv me.” Jace counters.

“Doesn’t make you any less annoying.”

“Mr Lightwood?” A woman in blue scrubs comes in, a board in hand. “We’re ready for you. Follow me please.”

“Go get’em tiger.” Jace pats Alec as he gets up. Alec gives him the middle finger casually.

“My name's Dr Catarina Loss, I will be doing your exam today. I know this is an invasive procedure so if at any point you feel uncomfortable, just let me know, and I’ll….”

Catarina’s voice wafts away as she directs Alec to the exam room. Jace settles in with a magazine from the table, waiting for his turn.

“Who’s that cute boy with Cat?” Meliorn walks up to Magnus’s station, signing out for his break.

“Alec Lightwood. He’s here to get tested.” Magnus answers forlornly. “With his boyfriend.”

“All the hot ones are taken, huh?” Meliorn sighs.

“Tell me about it.” Magnus nods in agreement.

Simon runs in, chart board in hand. “Magnus, you got my next patient?”

“Shouldn’t you be on your break right now?” Meliorn points out from behind the counter.

“I’m pulling in some extra time.” Simon shrugs. “What? I need the new Nintendo switch.”

“You do you.” Magnus hands him a receipt. “Here you go, patient details.”

“Thanks.” Simon nods before calling out the name. “Uh, Mr Herondale?”

“That’ll be me.” Jace smiles. “Oh hi there.”

“My name’s Simon.” The brunette smiles. “ Please follow me. I’m gonna prep you before Dr Roberts can do your check up.”

“Well, Simon, you can prep me anytime.” Jace winks. Simon’s ears tinge pink with blush as he walks the blonde to an exam room.

“Did he seriously just flirt with Si while his boyfriend’s getting tested?” Magnus looks at their disappearing forms.”Un-freaking-believable.”

“Maybe they’re in a poly relationship, Magnus. Don’t judge.” Meliorn tuts.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Mr. Lightwood's not.” Magnus shares a look with his coworker. “Anyway, you’re right. None of my business.”

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

“Overtime is awesome.” Simon practically skips his way towards the reception. “I have a date!”

“Cool!” Meliorn fistbumps the brunette. “Who is it?”

“It’s that patient I prepped for Maia earlier. He plays the piano and he’s coming to see the band later.”

“Did he say anything about who he came with here?” Magnus asks, ignoring the warning look Meliorn sent his way.

“Yeah, he said his brother can take the car and won’t mind if I gave him a lift to the venue after I get off of work. He even joked that his brother would probably be mad that he pulled this. Why?”

“Brother, huh?” Magnus cocks an eyebrow. Meliorn looks at him pointedly. “What! He asked out Simon. That makes it our business.”

“What are you talking about?” Simon looks between the two, confused.

“Hi again.” Alec walks up to the counter. “Do you have the payment receipt for me?”

“Hello.” Magnus turns to look at Meliorn shaking his head one last time, before deciding to just day fuck it to professionalism. “Can I talk to you privately for a moment?”

“Uh, sure.” Alec nods, clearly thrown off track. Magnus walks up to the waiting lounge away from the counter, Alec hot on his heels.

“Is there anything wrong with my test?” Alec asks, distraught. “I know I should get checked at least every six months, but last year’s been so busy and I-”

“It’s not about your test. I’m so sorry, it must’ve seemed like that.” Magnus smiles apologetically. “We won’t have the results till tomorrow anyway.”

“Oh.” Alec's expression clears for a moment, before turning more confused. “What did you need to speak to me about then?”

“It’s about your boyfriend.” Magnus takes a deep breath. “I think he’s cheating on you.”

“What?” Alec asks, looking a little lost.

“I know, I’m so sorry.” Magnus winces. “I probably shouldn’t have been so blunt. It’s a terrible thing to hear, I know. He asked out one of our nurses and I had to tell you.”

“Um.” Alec offers his input in the conversation, ever so eloquently.

“One of my coworkers told me you guys could probably be poly, which again, is fine, but after those things your boyfriend said about you thinking he’s the one for you, and vice versa, I just had to say something.”

“Wait. You-” Alec narrows his eyes. “I’m not poly. I don’t have a boyfriend. We’re not dating.”

“Oh my God, please tell me you guys aren’t married.” Magnus feels horrified. “Simon’s gonna be devastated if he finds out.”

“Who the hell is Simon?” Alec feels the conversation is changing every other second. “What are you talking about?”

“Hey Alec, there you are!” Jace walks in, car keys spinning in his finger. “Can you take the car home? This cute nurse gets off duty in ten minutes and we have sort of a date, if you catch my drift.”

“Are you serious right now?” Magnus’s eyebrows threaten to vanish into his hairline. “Talking about cheating right in front of the man you married?”

“Married?” Jace looks at Alec, questions clear on his face. “What is he talking about, Alec?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Alec looks back at Magnus. “We’re not married. We’re not dating. He’s free to date all the people he wants.”

“What?” Now it’s Magnus’s turn to lose track of the conversation.

“Yeah, and it’s almost double the amount of people because my brother here never actually goes out to date.”

“I’m busy with work, okay!” Alec protests weakly.

“Wait, hold on. Brothers?” Magnus looks at the two. “You two look nothing alike.”

“I’m adopted.” Jace clarifies.

“Oh.” Realization finally dawns on Magnus. “Wait, then why did you say those things earlier?”

“I was joking?” Jace shrugs. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Oh, my God.” Magnus tries to hide his face behind his hands. “I am so, so sorry. Oh God what have I done! Please don’t report me.”

“You were just trying to save someone from a bad relationship.” Jace shrugs. “Nothing to report.”

“Better a false alarm this time than an actual abusive one slipping by next time.” Alec smiles. “Though watching DuckTales with Jace snoring should qualify as abuse on its own.”

“Rude.” Jace glares at his brother, mumbling something about bloodthirsty beasts. “Listen, it’s been about ten minutes and I really think I have a shot with Simon. I gotta go.”

“I’ll take the car home, don’t worry.” Alec nods. “You can come by tomorrow to get it.”

“Thanks, bro.” Jace pulls Magnus aside while Alec finishes up with payment at the counter. “We good here?”

“Yeah we’re good.” Magnus gives him a nod of acknowledgement. “Sorry I accused you of cheating. On your brother.”

“It’s cool.” Jace shrugs. “Speaking of brother, you should ask mine out.”

“You think he’d be interested?” Magnus looks back at the man signing some papers at the counter.

“I think he started stammering when he saw you first, he couldn’t be gayer if a very gay spider bit him, and lastly,” Jace spares a glance at his brother, “he’s the best man I’ve ever known. He deserves someone who can look out for him. Like you did today.”

“Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little fun at least.” Jace shrugs. “I’m pretty sure Alec’s forgotten what that word even means.”

“I’m over at the counter, not in a different room you idiot. I can still hear you.” Alec’s glare is imminent. “And I’m plenty of fun. It’s just yours and mine definition varies. By a lot.”

“Is that so?” Magnus cocks an eyebrow. “I have two tickets to the ice skating rink tomorrow. Maybe you could join me, that is, if it fits your definition of fun?”

“Yeah.” Alec smiles. “I’d like that.”

“Now are you glad I dragged you here?” Jace’s eyebrow wiggle meets Alec’s death stare.

“I still hate you.”

#shadowhunterbingo #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #malec fic #jace herondale #simon lewis #meliorn #tsccreatenet #jay.fic

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, facialteeth!

For @facialteeth <3

When your soulmate loses something it gets sent to you and vice versa. For almost 400 years Magnus thought he would never have a soulmate until one day a pacifier shows up in his loft.

Read On AO3

*****

Who Are You Really?

Magnus stares at the pacifier in his hand. He doesn’t recall anyone bringing a baby to his loft recently. He doesn’t take in as many clients due to his position as High Warlock. He’s pretty sure he would remember a baby being in his home.

Thinking nothing of it, he sets it down on the side table in his living room and goes back to work. The Circle may be disbanding and shadowhunters are getting arrested, but there are still attacks happening in New York and the Institute has asked for his help in tracking the remaining Circle members.

Magnus snorts at his own phrasing. The Institute more so demanded that he help them. He of course made sure to set his price high for what he expected in return. The new Heads weren’t going to make him bend the knee to their every request. He was going to make life extremely difficult for the Lightwoods. They may have been forgiven by the Clave, but Magnus will never forget what they did. 

Without looking up from his cauldron, he reaches for an ingredient on his shelf, and instead of touching the vial he knows is there, a soft fabric brushes his hands. He whips his head up from the cauldron and stares at the blanket draped over the shelf. Not just any blanket, a child’s blanket- no an infant’s blanket. 

Magnus stares at the cloth for so long that his brewing potion is now ruined. He doesn’t care though, not when there’s something more important to focus on. With a shaky breath and hand, he grasps the blanket. It’s so incredibly soft in his hands, the fabric is perfectly suitable for a baby. Not just any baby though Magnus realizes, his soulmate’s. His soulmate must have just turned two, when most soulmates start to receive their partner’s lost items.

A sob escapes his lips and he presses the blanket to his face. 

Four hundred years, it took four hundred years for his soulmate to be born. Magnus had lost hope such a long time ago of ever getting one. Each year that passed with nothing showing up around had him made him lose hope. And after everything Camile did to him, the manipulation, the gaslighting, stealing his items, and pretending that they were soulmates, Magnus swore to never open his heart again.

Now here is this pacifier and blanket in his loft, letting him know that love will not be lost to him. That there is someone out there that is made for him. He scrunches his face at that thought. His soulmate is a baby, he shouldn’t be thinking like that, not yet. He still has many years to go, but Magnus will gladly wait as long as it takes to meet them.

“Oh god my soulmate is a baby and I’m a warlock,” he says out loud to no one. He glances in horror at the state of his apothecary. Everything is everywhere, the minute he forgets one thing it’s going to teleport to a baby. 

Potion forgotten, Magnus starts to clean his apothecary with precision, making sure that everything is labeled and in a proper place that is easy to find. The last thing he needs is to kill a baby, let alone his soulmate. 

“You better not die because of me,” he demands, glaring at the pacifier and blanket now resting in a case in his bedroom.

The first six years are filled with anxiety on Magnus’ end. His friends made fun of him at first, thinking he had finally gone mad. When he showed them the items, they rightly shut up and even occasionally helped him if he was looking for something for a potion. None of them wanting to be responsible for the death of his soulmate. This is the happiest they have seen him in a long time, if it means portaling at ungodly hours of the night to help him find something before it disappears then so be it.

Magnus did have fun “accidentally” losing toys for his soulmate to have and play with. He has no idea if his soulmate actually uses anything that he finds, he hopes that he does. While Magnus is sure that his soulmate’s parents spoiled their child to no end, Magnus was never one to not spoil someone important to him.

Somehow Magnus knew that the exciting thrill was never going to last. His soulmate would be eight now. He glances at the calendar on the wall, a big red circle around September 12th. Magnus had made sure to mark the date after he got a hold of his emotions all those years ago. 

He’s debating on what to send an eight year old child on their birthday. He’s been good about getting gender neutral toys for his soulmate, not knowing if they are a boy or girl. He’s going through a catalog on his phone when he spots a piece of paper on the coffee table. It's flipped upside down but Magnus can see some dark ink on the other side of the paper.

His soulmate must be doodling or drawing and forgotten something they made for their birthday. Magnus reaches out and grabs the paper flipping it over to inspect the drawing.

The paper bursts into flames by his magic.

No that- that can’t be right. Magnus just saw the paper wrong, he must have. There’s no possible way that was what he thought it was. He gets a second chance to see when another paper appears on his coffee table. He feels himself starting to fall apart as he reaches for the sheet and flips it over. He recognizes the marking anywhere.

Iratze

The paper once again catches fire from his barely contained magic. Magnus feels his throat tighten and his breath getting shorter. Shadowhunter. His soulmate is a shadowhunter, his mind provides. He feels like the universe is playing a cruel joke on him. Of all the people living on this earth, his soulmate had to be of the people who have hunted and killed his kind for hundreds of years. 

Magnus barks out a wet laugh, immediately summoning a drink from his cart and downing it in one go. The glass is already refilled as he watches more papers appear on the table, more runes scribble on them. He doesn’t know how many times he refills his glass, but he got the desired effect he wanted: numbness. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s stared at those papers, drinking his pain away. He can barely sit up at this point with the alcohol flowing through his system. He can’t remember the last time he got this drunk. He’s been better since Camille, not wanting to go that far again. He hears the door to his loft open. Was he expecting guests? He doesn’t remember, doesn’t care. The intruder could rob him for all he cared.

“Well you look awfully dreadful,” a familiar British voice says. “Is this why you’ve been ignoring my calls and I had to take the long way in?” 

“Ragnor,” Magnus slurs, he tilts his head towards his friend. The small movement makes him nauseous, it takes everything in not to immediately stumble to the bathroom to throw up.

“What is it this time?” His friend sighs dramatically. Ragnor glances around the room, glaring at something out of his field of view. “Obviously something has upset you enough to drink almost your entire cart. Did Camille try and reach out to you?”

“No,” he says too quietly. He can already feel the emotions he’s tried to lock down start to bubble up. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Ragnor, his friend doesn’t need to worry about him. The man always has more important things to deal with than him. Still, his arm has a mind of its own and points to the coffee table.

“What, you were studying runes and decided that getting drunk would be easier?” Oh, he truly loves Ragnor, the old fool knows how to make him laugh even at his lowest of lows. 

“Not mine,” he manages to get out before tears start to fall. 

“Oh, old friend,” Ragnor whispers. He’s happy that he doesn’t have to explain more, his friend understanding what the papers mean. 

The couch dips beside him and an arm wraps around his shoulders. Magnus doesn’t even try to resist, he’s just so tired. He rests his head on Ragnor’s shoulder and cries. Damn the universe for dealing him this deck of cards. 

As his soulmate grows older, the less stuff they seem to misplace. Magnus would find it strange that he’s practically getting nothing, but at this point, he doesn’t care what the shadowhunter does with their life. 

He does, though, care about the number of arrows he’s been finding in his loft. 

Magnus glares at the vase he designated for arrow disposal and sees that it’s full. He has five more wrapped in a cloth in his hands. With a sigh he snaps his fingers and summons another vase, tossing them in. He doesn’t know why he’s keeping them, there’s really no point except to dump them at the Shadowhunter’s feet when they meet. Maybe even throw a few at them, he considers. 

There’s nothing on them so he figures that the shadowhunter is training. Though Magnus almost shudders at the thought that a child is already practicing how to use a weapon. His soulmate is only ten years old, surely Nephilim society would wait until their children are at least thirteen before making them train for hunting. 

“Stupid Nephilim, not keeping track of his arrows,” Magnus grumbles. “That’s almost thirty arrows in the past two months! I would like to think that a shadowhunter would at least know how to put arrows away after training and not leave them everywhere.”

“Do go easy on them, Magnus,” Ragnor snorts from the other room. “It’s not like they had a choice in what family and life they were born into.”

“They still have the option to run away,” he grumbles, knowing he’s being irrational.

“Surely you don’t want them to be homeless at ten years old?” Ragnor says, entering the room with two cocktails, handing one off to Magnus before plopping down on a chair. 

“Maybe,” Magnus whispers, he looks over at his friend and sees the raised brow. He rolls his eyes, “Okay I don’t, not really.”

Magnus knows he’s being unkind to his soulmate. But after everything in recent years with the Uprising and the Circle, it’s hard not to associate all shadowhunters into the same category especially when so many members of the Circle turned tail and came crawling back to the Clave. And the Clave willingly brought them back into their ranks with a slap on the wrist. Magnus rolls his eyes at the thought of Robert and Maryse Lightwood being allowed to look over the New York Institute as their punishment. Those two should have been put behind bars for all that they did for the Circle.

“Don’t you think you are being a bit dramatic?” Ragnor asks as Magnus takes the seat across from him. 

“Me? Dramatic? Hardly, my dear Cabbage,” he says dramatically, hand on his heart. 

“Right,” Ragnor snorts. “Just a gentle reminder that you are getting upset at a child for being born into a life he had no power over just like you with Asmo-”

“Don’t,” Magnus snaps, his glamor flickering for a moment. “Don’t ever compare my upbringing to that of a shadowhunter.”

Ragnor doesn’t say anything else which he kinda feels bad about. His friend also knows better than to talk about his father in such a casual way. The two fall into a tense silence as they go through the books scattered on the table. He sighs, glancing over at the two vases of arrows that he’s put in his library. Ragnor is probably right, but he’s not going to tell that to the old fool’s face.

Magnus will apologize later, right now he wants to focus on the spell they’re working on and not about the shadowhunter.

The day they do meet is not by fate, no, more so Clarissa Fairchild, who Magnus had almost forgotten about. It’s been a couple of years since her mother brought the frightened child to his doorsteps to wipe her memories. Seems the girl has fallen into shadowhunter hands after her mother goes missing. He wouldn’t put it past the rogue Circle members that were in his club a few nights ago to be the reason.

As he examines the ruby necklace, a memento of another time in his life, a shout echoes across the basement and something whistles past his ear. Turning around he sees a Circle member fall to the ground dead with an arrow to the heart. 

Magnus feels his own heart stop as he turns to watch the archer descend the staircase and make his way to the corpse, to search for life. Magnus feels his skin turn warm and start to tingle, like a lego piece snapping into place. A whisper of a no slips past his lips. The shadowhunter must feel the same as he stands from checking the body he stands straight. Hazel meets brown as the man, the shadowhunter, stares at him in shock.

It’s him.

Magnus doesn’t wait for the man to reach him. He summons a portal, ignoring Clary’s cry to wait, and steps back into his loft. His breathing is erratic and it feels like his heart is about to explode. 

His soulmate is here, in New York. What is Magnus going to do? He can’t leave his post as High Warlock, not with Circle members making a reappearance. His people need him to protect them. Over the blood pulsing in his ears, he hears a cry, immediately snapping him out of his thoughts. Reaching out with his magic he feels that his hideout has been infiltrated. Dammit, he shouldn’t have left this place for that girl. 

Magnus can worry about the ache in his chest later, his people need his help. 

He doesn’t even wait for the Circle members to notice him, magic blasts out of his hands attacking any person who dares to enter this safe haven. When he finds out who leaked the location, he’s going to ban them from New York. He doesn’t have use for someone who would rat out his own people. 

“Your magic is strong, warlock,” the Circle member taunts. “Much stronger than that horned warlock I killed this morning.”

“Elias,” he says solemnly. He throws a ball of fire at the man who easily dodges it. They circle around each other, the man’s grin never leaving.

“So that was his name, lucky he sold you out before I took his warlock mark,” the man laughs.

Magnus knows he shouldn’t let his anger get the best of him, but he still finds himself lashing out at the Circle member, trying to disarm him. The man's grin turns even more sinister and something in his stomach tightens.

“Cats eyes,” he points out. Magnus didn’t even realize his glamor had dropped. “Would be a nice addition to my collection.”

Before Magnus can reply an arrow sings past him and lands in the man’s leg making him stumble. Magnus doesn’t wait for him to recover and deals a finishing blow. The Circle member collapses on the fallen bookshelf and Magnus feels like he’s frozen. That feeling in his stomach wasn’t from the Circle member, it was from him.

Magnus spins and sees the same shadowhunter from the club stand there, bow still raised, panic in his eyes. The man releases a breath and lowers his bow, eyes rake over the Circle member’s body before turning to Magnus. Magnus steps back, magic sparking at his hands ready to fight. 

The man opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something but nothing comes out. His eyes show only concern and worry, but that can’t be right, no shadowhunter would ever look at him like that. He glances at Magnus’ hands and the look disappears to something more neutral, closed off but not before Magnus catches a glimpse of pain.

“Alec!” A male voice shouts from down the hall, Alec glances behind him taking his eyes off of Magnus. The man must have a death wish for taking his eyes off of him. Magnus could easily take him out now, but his body won’t let him. “That’s the last of them.”

The shadowhunter, or Alec, nods his head and turns towards Magnus again, “We should go join the others.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Shadowhunter,” he bites back, hoping to get a reaction out of the man, but Alec doesn’t even flinch, just nods his head again.

“Apologies,” Alec says, turning around and leaving the library but halts, looking at something on his left. Magnus follows his gaze and realizes he’s looking at the multiple vases of arrows he’s kept over the years. Alec’s face stays blank but the grip on his bow tightens before he continues his way out of the living room.

Strange, Magnus thinks. He thought the shadowhunter would have demanded Magnus listen to him or even drag him to where everyone else is. Instead he’s letting Magnus choose to go with him, giving him the option to run tail if he wanted. 

Of course, Magnus won’t do that, he realizes with a sigh. He doesn’t know how many of his people made it out alive, all of them probably scattering the second the Circle members entered the hideout. He’ll need to notify friends and any families of the fallen here. 

With a wave of his hand, Magnus rids the loft of any dead circle members and teleports their bodies to the ocean. Let the sharks have their fun with them, he doesn’t care. In another wave, he teleports the bodies of the fallen warlocks to another safe haven he has in New York and a fire message to Catarina about what happened and where she needs to go.

When Magnus enters his living room he catches Alec with his head down and a girl with long dark hair rubbing a hand up and down his arm looking at him with concern. Something in his chest aches and presses a hand to his heart. Is that what Alec is feeling? He hates it. He doesn’t want to feel what the shadowhunter is feeling. 

He must be projecting his emotions because Alec flinches, pressing a hand to his chest and looks up at him. Again the pain that he sees disappears by that blank look. The girl catches Alec’s change and looks over at him and sends Magnus the most heated glare he’s ever received. 

He doesn’t have time to deal with that. He puts on his High Warlock persona and makes a show of his magic. Clary, to no surprise, is as stubborn as her mother and refuses to leave without getting her memories back. So he tells them what they all have to do to get them back. None of them argue to his surprise, though the blonde boy tries but is stopped by Alec with a hand on the shoulder. 

The summoning goes off without a problem. All of the shadowhunters listen to his explanation of how the ritual works and that they must not let go of each other’s hands. When Magnus explains that they must hold hands, the sister, Isabelle, moves into a position that forces Alec and him to hold hands. Magnus tries not to let his frustration show and accepts the positions. 

The second he and Alec’s hands touch, it’s like the final piece of their connection is sealed. He hears Alec let out a gasp and the hand in his grips tight before loosening. Magnus looks at Alec and the shadowhunter is not even glancing at him, he continues to stare at the wall opposite of him. Magnus feels an incredible sorrow fill his chest that makes him want to curl up and cry. 

Alec shows no outward sign of what he’s really feeling and something pokes at his heart that this is not the first time that Alec has had to mask his emotions. He shakes off the feeling, looking away from Alec to see everyone else staring at him waiting, though Isabelle is still glaring at him. 

The demon asks for a memory of the ones they love the most. Of course, his is Ragnor, his oldest and closest friend. Jace, who he finds out is Alec’s parabatai, and Isabelle’s are of Alec, which warms his heart or well maybe not his, he looks over at Alec and sees the soft smile on his face as the shadowhunter sees himself reflected in the tornado of smoke in the center. He doesn’t even catch what Clary’s memory was, too enraptured by the kindness shining in his soulmate’s eyes.

When the summoning is over, Clary collapses and is caught by Jace. He scoops the unconscious girl and leads her out of the loft with Isabelle, a quiet thanks as they pass him, leaving Alec and Magnus alone in the room. Alec hasn’t looked up from his hands since they let go, rubbing the hand that was entwined with his.

“Thank you for helping us,” Alec speaks softly. 

“I didn’t do it for you,” he says.

“I know.” Alec finally looks up from his hands and there’s a small smile on his face. “I’ll let you be. Have a good night, Magnus.”

The shadowhunter doesn’t wait for his response and rushes out the room to catch up with his family leaving Magnus alone. 

Alone.

Something that Magnus has been used to for decades now. His heart had been protected under a lock and key for so long and then Alec, this shadowhunter, his soulmate had to barge in and rip the lock off the cage. 

Magnus doesn’t want to feel like this. He liked it better when he was alone and didn’t have a soulmate, when he didn’t feel this much in his chest. The people he knows who have met their soulmates have told him about how they felt butterflies the first time they met their other half. That it felt like they were whole for the first time. Magnus doesn’t feel whole, he feels rage at the universe for giving him a shadowhunter as his soulmate.

Magnus doesn’t care how kind Alec may or may not be.

He will never fall in love with a shadowhunter.

Of course, that wouldn’t be the last time he saw Alec. He made it clear that he was not interested in getting to know the shadowhunter and thankfully Alec respected that. Again throwing Magnus off about his view of shadowhunters. 

Now Jace definitely fits that shadowhunter personality. Brash, rude, demanding, following red heads around like a lost puppy. Magnus rolls his eyes as the blonde’s gaze never leaves Clary’s as she word vomits in his living room fretting over Luke. Luke, who is in the state he’s in because of Clary, and Simon who couldn’t listen to simple orders. 

One would think that the girl would take her time to recover after getting all of her memories back. It seems that when she discovered the location of the cup, she snuck out of the Institute and met up with Sherman only to get kidnapped which led to a fight between a Beta and an Alpha werewolf which led to a new leader to the New York pack and-

Lilith, Magnus needs a drink.

He sends Simon and Jace off to fetch ingredients for him to help with the potion that would save Luke. Which leaves him and Clary to wait for them to return. Magnus focuses on the potion to make sure it doesn’t turn sour.

“So,” Clary says. “You and Alec, huh?”

Magnus almost drops a vial in the cauldron. “I beg your pardon?”

“You two are soulmates right?”

“And what gave you that idea?” He grits. 

“The stuff in Alec’s room,” she shrugs, wandering around the apothecary. “He has a whole bookshelf full of trinkets and vials exactly like the ones in here.” Clary pokes at the vials on his shelves, he almost snaps at her to stop. “It’s really incredible, you can tell he took great care of them all.”

“Is that so?” 

Clary nods, smiling as she picks up a vial off his table, inspecting it. “Yeah, he got really upset with me when I tried to pick up one of the items. Even went as far to wipe my finger prints off the thing. You can easily tell they’re his greatest treasure.” Clary’s smile turns to a frown. “Though last time I went to talk to him, he had put a bed sheet over the shelf.”

Oh. That information does something to his heart, like something has a vice grip around it now. Magnus shakes his head, clearing himself of the feeling, and goes back to the potion.

“Maybe he’s upset that he realized I’m a warlock,” he snorts.

“No, that wasn’t it. When I first saw it, he had this soft, delighted smile on his face. He had said that he hadn’t met the warlock who was his soulmate yet, but that he was eager to meet them. Said that he hoped his runes wouldn’t scare you away and that he could prove that he would care for you the way he cared for the items he got from you through your connection.” 

The vial that was in his hand drops to the table. Clary jumps at the sudden sound and turns to him in surprise.

Surely Alec didn’t think that way about him. He was an abomination with demon blood, Alec was a shadowhunter with angel blood. There’s no possible way they would work and yet, Alec knew his soulmate was a warlock before he even laid eyes on Magnus. Had a bookshelf full of the items he had lost over the years.

“Why?” He mutters quietly. “He’s a shadowhunter whose soulmate is a warlock. We’re not exactly the perfect match.”

“Why should that matter?” Clary asks. “It is clear that Alec doesn’t care that you’re a warlock. His mother is a different story though.” Clary rubs her arms up and down her arms like a shiver passed through her. The accurate reaction when talking about that woman. “I don’t understand how he just stands there while she speaks to him like that.”

“Like what?” His mouth feels dry, the blank face from a few days ago makes sense now. With a mother like Maryse Lightwood, finding out your son has a warlock soulmate probably didn’t go over well. He’s positive that Alec’s other siblings didn’t get that treatment, especially Clary and Jace who discovered they were soulmates. 

“Like he’s inferior for having a warlock as a soulmate. The first thing she did when she stopped by his room was berate him for still having that bookshelf, like he should be ashamed of himself for displaying who his soulmate was so openly and that she thought she told him to toss out anything that wasn’t useful.”

Magnus feels like there’s no air in the room. He leans forward on the table and stares into the bubbling concoction. 

With each new thing he learns about Alec, the less his view of him is so harsh. 

“That’s when he had covered the bookshelf,” Clary whispers, biting her lip. “Ever since their mother came back to the Institute that spark in Alec’s eye is gone.”

“Maryse does have the personality of a brick,” he chimes in hoping to lighten the mood. 

Clary doesn’t take the bait and instead looks at him with sympathy. “I don’t remember much about when we came here last, my memories are still a bit jumbled, but I know that when I woke up, no one knew where Alec went. Jace said to let it go, that he gets that way sometimes, but I couldn’t help feeling like something wasn’t right. When I found him he was on the roof, shooting arrows, one after the other until his hands were bleeding.”

“Why are you telling me this,” he rasps. His heart is beating out of control. Was Alec that hurt by his rejection? He was a shadowhunter, he should be relieved that his warlock of a soulmate doesn’t want to be with him. It wasn’t like Magnus would be upset if Alec left. Something about that thought makes his heart stop. 

“Because you both deserve happiness,” she says. “And I think Alec at least deserves a chance before you kick him to the curb.”

Magnus doesn’t know what to say to that. What could he say to that? For centuries he’s kept away from shadowhunters as much as possible and now he was fatefully connected to one. Why should he be the one to make that step? It wasn’t like Alec was taking the first step.

That’s because you rejected him before he could, his mind unkindly reminds him.

Magnus doesn’t get the time to ask more questions about Alec as Luke starts to seizure on the couch. He tells Clary what still needs to be done with the potion as he rushes over to Luke and pour his magic into the werewolf’s body to slow the spread of the poison. 

He loses track of time, just focusing on making sure that Luke makes it through this process. Just as he starts to feel his magic flicker, the door to his home bursts open and there’s a warm body catching him as he falls back.

Magnus huddles closer to the warmth, clasping his hand around the one that takes his. 

“Use my strength,” a voice whispers in his ear. “Take what you need.”

Magnus doesn't waste a second, siphoning magic from the person behind him. It’s like being shot with adrenaline, the other person’s energy practically shoving its way into his body. It’s definitely a first for him. Anytime Magnus has asked to share strength with someone, there is always a tug from the other person, not fully trusting Magnus to not abuse the power the other is giving him. Magnus feels no resistance from whoever he’s taking magic from. For someone to trust him that openly and blindly that they just give him their very essence brings tears to his eyes.

He’s going to have to thank whoever it is once he’s sure that Luke won’t die on him. Maybe even take them out to dinner as a thank you. As if they heard his thoughts, Jace and Simon rush through the living room and hand over the last ingredient to Clary who tosses it in the cauldron. Moments later, the trio are rushing over to the couch and pouring the potion down Luke’s throat.

The reaction is practically instant. Luke is no longer seizing on the couch and the dark veins around his wounds are receding. Magnus stops his constant flow of magic and drops. Or would have dropped, if the person behind him hadn’t caught him preventing him from making a fool of himself.

He just settles into the person’s arms and closes his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He used more magic than he had planned tonight and he feels exhausted. Not as exhausted as he thought he would be he realizes. That’s when he feels the hand still in his squeeze down and rub the back of his hand with their thumb. The person he’s leaning against begins to speak to Jace.

He jolts at the person’s voice, realizing just exactly who he is resting against. He opens his eyes and whips his head to Alec’s. Alec who is staring down at him with concern and worry that makes his heart ache. Magnus hurriedly lets go of their entwined hands and finds the strength to stand up. He doesn’t look back at Alec.

He asks Jace and Simon to help carry Luke to the guest room, ignoring the heat in his cheeks and the quick beatings of his heart. He hastily follows the men into the bedroom, making sure Luke is comfortable. He’s not ready to address that whole situation waiting for him in the living room.

As he gets Luke comfortable, his mind wanders back to Alec. He wonders if one of the others called Alec for help, but no, there would be no reason for them to notify Alec that he would need assistance. None of them but Clary knew about Luke’s deteriorating state and she was too busy making sure the potion was good to go when the others returned with the missing ingredient. 

He pauses fluffing Luke’s pillow and presses a hand to his chest as it aches. He had been so focused on healing Luke that he didn’t even notice his connection to Alec was so open. He doesn't feel much from Alec, but he understands now, why Alec knew to come to the loft. Magnus must have called out to him and Alec came running to help.

He doesn’t understand the Shadowhunter. Magnus couldn’t have made it more clear that he wasn’t interested in getting to know him. Yet, he still showed up, saved his life twice, helped Clary get her memories back and even assisted him in saving Luke, all without Magnus asking him to. He held Magnus close to his chest and let him practically drain him of his Nephilim energy to save Luke. The part of him that he kept under lock and key for so long slowly pours out and a warmth spreads through him at the fact that someone would do that for him without him asking, begging them to do so. It’s what he always wanted in a partner.

Why should the fact that him being a shadowhunter change that? Clary’s words from before also ring in his head, that Alec kept everything he lost and displayed them proudly in his room and told others about him, other shadowhunters. 

He’s hit with a yearning in his chest that makes him want to try. To maybe get to know Alec a bit and see what the shadowhunter is like. He’s never given Magnus a reason to think that he’s hostile. If anything, Alec has been giving him the space he’s asked for and was only dismissed when Magnus told him off. It’s Magnus who’s the one that’s been hostile. He should fix that, go talk to Alec. He should start by saying thank you.

Magnus excuses himself from the room and goes back out to the living room. Millions of thoughts race in his head, wondering what he should say, how he should say it. But when he reaches the living room, Alec is nowhere to be seen. Magnus steps towards the couch and looks at the entrance to his loft and doesn’t see the shadowhunter. 

His foot hits something on the floor. Magnus’ breath catches as he finds a small trash bin filled with bloody rags. He looks at his couch and sees that the blood stains are gone. 

Alec cleaned up the mess for him. Alec probably felt how depleted of magic he was and didn’t want him to exert himself anymore. The smell of lavender waffs through his living room, getting rid of the metallic smell of blood and decay.

He doesn’t know why that makes his eyes water. Alec did all of this without being asked to. He was being kind again, like he has been since he and Magnus first crossed paths. Magnus was just too stuck in his past to realize it. 

Not anymore, he decides, clenching his fists. He’s not going to let his past dictate his happiness anymore. He has a chance to be happy with the man who the universe has chosen to be his soulmate and he’s going to make the most of it.

Magnus is going to make this right, he has to.

#facialteeth #malecsanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

[bakugou-tm]

ANTI!! HERO!! BAKUGOU!!

So I started writing a draft, then this happened...

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The day you two first had met was like no other day Bakugou had ever experienced.

And he was a professional villain of sorts, so he’d had his fair share of strange days. Even then, the day you suddenly barged into his life took the cake.

It was mid winter, the weather just as dark and shady as the bar the ash blond was found in, sitting in his usual bar stool furthest away from the rest of the no goods in the shitty bar.

Though it was far from undercover, the villains established the hole in the wall bar as their own. Though you wouldn’t see any big name villains hiding out there, the rest of the low life hoodlums took over the joint as a place to lay low and talk amongst each other.

It’s exactly what you would imagine a villain bar to appear like: constant fights, horrendous smell, drunk lunatics, shady mistresses latched onto filthy criminals. 

It was no Hamptons, but it was home for the villainous ash blond.

Bakugou Katsuki, otherwise known as Ground Zero, was a rather sneaky one. Nobody quite classified him as a true villain, rather a vigilante or anti-hero of sorts. He did what he wanted, period. Nobody has ever caught him in the act of crime, hints his name of zero losses, so he was safe enough to walk in the streets.

But then again, he would never be caught seen in a local coffee shop, it wasn’t exactly his type of place. Admittedly it would seem the villains would despise such a ‘pansy’ of a villain, but after years of his intricately dark work he’s established a name for himself on both parties.

His name alone set fear into the hearts of villains and heroes, just because of how mysterious and cunning his work could be. Nobody knew how much blood was on his hands, nor what he was planning next. In some lights he could be seen as a villain, in other lights he could be seen as a hero.

But his only rule was, never call him a hero. Because Bakugou Katsuki most certainly was no hero.

So there he sat, at his usual hangout on a Friday night, coming up with his next move for the following week. He may had been a villain of sorts, but his work was far from sloppy. He had to keep up to his name of course.

His trademark style consisted of black skinny jeans, the usual stylish tears in them along with his dark hoodie with his signature orange X plastered across it.

His small glass cup of gin remained untouched as he stared out the window, looking past the buffoons that inhabited the establishment. His calloused finger swirled around the smooth rim, his fiery eyes flicking to every movement outside.

The traffic outside mostly consisted of beat up cars driving by, possibly a group of people most likely apart of a gang clogging up the streets. All expected traffic on one of the most dangerous streets in Japan.

The only figure he wasn’t expecting was your own, not only daring to walk down the dark street but even having the nerve to swing the door open to the very bar.

All eyes fell on your form, including his own, after all your presence alone was enough to act as the brightest light in the darkest tunnel.

Besides your practically glowing presence, your outfit alone was enough to raise questions. There was no question at all that you were a hero, your (f/c) leotard giving away that fact.

The fact that you were clearly a hero wasn’t the first part, anyone dressed in attire such as your own was playing a dangerous game with the given crowd. Admittedly he had to give you credit that your chest was fully covered though distinctly noticeable with the spandex like fabric. But your bottom half was a different story. 

You did have thigh high boots that matched the color of your leotard and arm sleeves but to your demise, they stopped just at the part that desperately needed to be covered. The ash blond didn’t even need you to turn around, just by the sight of your hour glass like hips he knew there was a delightful package following from behind.

Bakugou had never seen such a radiant being such as yourself, and he had come across a good amount of heroes himself. Even with your rather rated r style hero costume, you radiated nothing but pure innocence. He swore he’s seen you on TV before, but it was nothing compared to you in person.

Your skin was so insanely perfect, looking like velvet to the touch and every inch and curve of your body looked like it was shaped from perfection.

Not to mention the supple (h/c) locks that cascaded along those downright teasing shoulders of yours topped off your entire look.

The ash blond hadn’t even noticed himself squinting from your sheer glowing beauty until you began to move, trouble immediately coming your way.

“Woah there sweet cheeks, why are you in such a rush to move you just got here.”

Your body froze in its place when a rather large man stood before you, his two sloppy looking followers standing on either side of him.

“I am sorry to be so rude, but I have other buisness here.” You said firmly, your dazzling (e/c) eyes staring the man straight in the eye.

Your boldness seemed to humor him, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he folded his arms, his small friend deciding to speak up.

“Boss, I’m pretty sure that’s the lass that just made the top ten hero list.”

This caught the attention of Bakugou, his head whipping over to analyze your face once more. Of course that’s who you were, how could you forget?

The youngest ever hotshot to make the top ten pro hero list, people loved you. Between your powerhouse solar quirk and your charismatic personality, you had the love of millions all around the world.

Yet you choose to vacant yourself in a filthy villain pub, the atmosphere already attempting to taint your clear image.

“Ah yes I’m Starbolt, I’m pleased you recognize me,” You said with a warm smile before turning back to the larger man before you, “But I am currently looking for a villain who I’ve heard has been snooping around this area, so if you’ll excuse me.”

Your polite nod and walk came to a stop when you smacked square in the middle of the man’s chest. You prepared to move back to take another route until you felt large palms keep your hips in place causing a squeak to escape those perfectly plump lips of yours.

“You’re awfully bold showing up here Starbolt, I was even gonna let you off easy but you look too damn good to resist.”

Your eyes had widened when you felt the familiar pair of hands move down to the curvature of your ass, your hands clenching as you grit your teeth uncomfortably.

The sound of sneering and footsteps only made it worse. Did these fools not care that a villain could be amongst them? You’d love to blast them all to the sun, but as a pro-hero it was against the law to use your quirk on civilians. 

“Sir I apologize again but I’m not interested, I’m on a mission and-”

Before you could finish you could feel the hands jerk off your skin, a sigh of relief escaping your lips before you felt a new arm wrap around your waist.

A small yelp escaped your lips once more when you looked up to the new nuisance, only to freeze when you were met with practically flawless features.

His sharp jawline was enough to slice through metal, matching all the other sharp features on his face. To his messy blond locks to the fierce vermillion eyes, he simply took your breath away at the sight.

“Get your grimy hands off Magnus, this doll is here to see me.”

Your eyes widened slightly in confusion at the sound of this, looking back up to the mysterious man until you heard a sneer.

“This bombshell is with you? I ain’t buyin’ it, you can’t just claim everything’s yours Zero-”

The large man began to storm forward before a serious of cracks came from the blond’s hands, effectively startling you and the man before you.

“Starbolt here and I have some unfinished business we need to attend to, don’t we love?”

Your eyes blinked up to the man besides you, confusion written all of your expression. Bakugou picked up on it quick enough as he moved his lips close enough to your ear to make it appear as if he was showing affection rather than whispering.

“Unless you want to get fucking groped all night by those shitty clowns, I suggest you play along.”

Eyes widening in surprise you felt a warm blush arise to your cheeks when his teeth harshly tugged at your earlobe. The action shocking the large man before you enough to begin to buy Bakugou’s story.

“A..Ah yes, it’s entirely private and I wish to commence with it right away.”

This final comment had even the large man blushing as Bakugou snorted, realizing you had no idea what you had just insinuated.

“S..Shit Zero, look how eager she already is, I don’t know how you do it man but kudos to you.” The large man said in defeated before stomping off to his previous table, leaving you two alone.

Raising a brow in confusion, you glanced over to the man who got you out of the tricky situation as he removed his grasp from you and sat back to his stool in the corner.

With a small cough you followed him, offering a warm smile as you sat on the stool beside him, “Gee thanks sir, it’s so difficult having to keep a cool head with perverted civilians like that.”

Bakugou rose a brow at this, tilting his head over to you and looking over your features. Were you just ignorant or stupid?

“Civilians? I think you’re a bit lost babe.”

Blinking at this you furrowed your brows slightly, biting at your lip as you shook your head to the offering bar tender before looking back to him.

“W..Well I am a bit lost, I’m looking for a villain named Gambit. My agency told me his last whereabouts were at this exact bar.”

At this the ash blond bursted into laughter, causing your lips to form into a slight pout before he pointed to the corner at the front of the bar.

“Fucking Gambit? That bastard has been sulkin’ over there for a few hours.”

Your head whipped over to the villain, giving Bakugou the chance to admire your perfectly bare neck and collarbone that sadly disappeared underneath your uniform.

“Oh my.. thank you so much I have to-”

Bakugou took a swig from his glass, lazily looking over to you began to ramble and stand up until he saw a bright green orb glow in your hand causing his eyes to widen as he realized what you were doing.

Quickly grabbing your wrist he snapped you back in your seat, bringing your attention back to him as the glowing of your hand returned to normal.

“What is the meaning of this? I must get to that villain and capture him, these people are in danger!”

Bakugou’s eyes were wide and a bit annoyed at this point. He couldn’t believe it, after everything that had just happened you truly believed this was a regular bar. For a minute he assumed you were playing dumb to fit in but now it all made sense.

The reason you didn’t bother disguising your hero costume, the reason you didn’t try to blast Magnus to the sky... you weren’t lying at all. You were completely oblivious to the hell hole you walked into. 

“For fucks sake,” Bakugou hissed, keeping you in his firm hold as he grabbed your chin and whipped it back to meet his own face, “You’re in a damn villain pub love!”

The ash blond would be lying if he didn’t admit how hilarious it was to watch your face go from angry to blank in just mere seconds.

Suddenly your narrowed (e/c) eyes widened in surprise and those perfect pinched lips of your opened slightly, the look was downright adorable to the ash blond. Your gaze meeting his alone almost made him choke on air.

That is, until your face flipped into one of anger. Your once beautiful blank expression was overtaken by your mouth agape as if offended and your eyebrows furrowed aggressively.

“You mean you were lying?”

Bakugou clicked his tongue at this, his signature scowl now matching your own, “First of fucking all, I never lied about shit. And secondly even if I did, I can because I’m a damn villain!”

Your expression grew angrier as you stood up, letting the barstool slide behind you aggressively as you grit your teeth.

“So you too are a villain!” You growled angrily, your eyes glowing which Bakugou would be lying if he said it didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

“Well.. not exactly a villain sweetheart...” Bakugou replied with the click of his tongue as he finished his gin, “More of a vigilante in your prissy hero terms, but I sure don’t have a clean fucking slate.”

Bakugou turned his eyes away from you, not wanting to give you his attention with the tantrum you were about to throw but much to his surprise you threw more than just a tantrum.

A firm grip grabbed his collar and suddenly he was met with the glowing green energy you had formed once before, “So I will bring you along with everyone else in to the authorities.”

To say the ash blond was shocked was an understatement, everything about you was a wild card. By first glance you were a delicate fragile flower, at first words you were innocent and ignorant, but now getting to truly know you it was clear you got down to business.

But even with this, Bakugou knew your innocence could easily be flipped in his favor. And to say he wasn’t intrigued by your unique nature would be a lie, he wanted to explore every part of you now.

Inside and out.

“I wouldn’t fuckin do that princess, it’s about twenty to one in this bar. Once the whole street gets involved? You’ll never see the damn daylight again.”

His threat seemed to get to you slightly, but you only gripped his collar tighter and narrowed your eyes, “Then I’ll simply take all of you down, sorry to disappoint but I’m stronger than I look pretty boy.”

Bakugou only smirked at this, vermillion eyes filled with mischief as he raised a brow.

“So you think I’m pretty.”

Bingo. Your (e/c) orbs stopped glowing as your grip faltered in the slightest bit. Soon you began jumbling over your words, giving Bakugou the perfect opportunity to snatch you.

In seconds your wrist was held against your chest, his muscular arm pinning it so you couldn’t resist. He easily could’ve flipped them behind your back and had you on your knees, but that would cause too much of a scene. Eyes were already on the two of you, he needed to be smart about this.

“Listen Miss Starbolt, I don’t think you realize the situation you’ve just clumsily danced into,” Bakugou hissed into your ear threateningly, just the sound of his deep voice vibrating against your skin making you shiver, “Big guy over there? His quirk knocks little lads like you out in seconds, no matter how strong you are. I already know his wack job of goons would have their way with you all night and believe me a girl like you doesn’t deserve such pests like them laying a finger on your perfect skin.”

At this you felt heat rushing to your face, not sure of which made you more flustered his compliment or the scenario he put into your head.

“And to be quite honest hot stuff, I may be an vigilante but that certainly doesn’t mean I won’t hesitate to blast your ass to the damn moon,” Bakugou growled before his lips curled up into a smirk, the feeling of his warm tongue licking the shell of your ear making you physically jump in the air as a squeak like sound escaped your lips.

“Not to mention, watching you walk around in that skimpy costume of yours makes me want to claim you as mine right here on this fucking counter.”

Just the sight of your silk (s/c) skin turn into a row of goosebumps made Bakugou chuckle in amusement. He loved how just his words alone had you a mess before him, number ten hero his ass.

Inhaling deeply you pulled away, your sparkling (e/c) eyes being covered by your long lashes as you bashfully looked to the side, not daring to make eye contact.

“I..It’s not by choice...” You muttered, letting your fingers cascade through your silky locks, “My quirk is dependent on the sun, no solar energy to charge my quirk, no power.”

Bakugou blinked in surprise as your confession, a grin reaching his lips as he took his pointer finger under your chin and let his thumb grip the top before lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Don’t worry love I don’t think you’re a tramp like those other horrendous pros out there that are only popular for their fucking sex appeal,” Bakugou said, his eyes burning into your own before that mischievous look appeared back in his eyes, “Also, you shouldn’t be telling a villain how your quirk works, gives me the perfect way to take advantage of you.”

Something about the way he spoke those last words made you bite the inside of your cheek, your blush returning to the tip of your cheeks once more as your lips formed into a pout. This time it wasn’t a pout of anger, they seemed to be pinched together as if confused what to think, or how to even act. 

The ash blond chuckled at this, flipping his small shot bottle upside down before nodding to the bartender and standing up.

“Relax princess, I’m not trying to make any moves I’m just teasing you cause you’re so fucking ditsy,” Bakugou said with a sneer as he motioned his head to the back hallway as if beckoning you to follow, “Such a pure angel like you would’t be able to handle a fucking train wreck like me, I’d only taint what rare purity you contain.”

Your cheeks only reddened more at this, cautiously following the mysterious anti-hero down the hallway. After a few turns and walking in silence, he finally opened the door to the alleyway behind the building.

“I suggest you walk the west direction, anywhere east and you’ll get hounded.” Bakugou muttered, hands in his pockets as he turned to you.

“I..I can fly...” You muttered, hovering off the ground slightly for proof before landing back on your feet as you bit your lip.

His eyes gave your form one last glance before he nodded, simply giving you a curt nod before turning back to the door.

As much as he wanted to ask you to stay, to take you back to his place, to explore every crevice of your brilliantly molded body and mind, and to create you to become his own... he knew now wasn’t the time. If there ever were a time, it would come and he would cease it.

As for now, he would let you live in the light like he once did, soaking up the fame for just a bit longer.

He tugged the sturdy metal door open, beginning to step forward before your voice was heard once more.

“(L/n) (F/n)!”

His motions stopped, his teeth gritting at the sound as he turned his head slightly back to you.

“What?”

“M..My name... it’s (L/n) (F/n)...” You mumbled, his body now turned completely to your own as you fumbled with your hands and looked down, “Look, I still don’t completely agree with your ways or beliefs but.. you did help me out of that situation and I know that can’t be coincidence..”

At this you looked up at him with those killer eyes, eyes that made him simply unravel and strip away any bit of self will he had left. He could only hope you weren’t going the direction it sounded. Because if you uttered any sentence along those lines, he might just lose control.

“(F/n)...” Bakugou growled dangerously low, a clear warning to prevent you from saying anymore, but it was a warning you absentmindedly ignored.

“You saw something different in me and that’s why you helped me, I know you’re interested and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t either.” You said, slowly beginning to walk towards him, ignoring the screaming thoughts in your head telling you to run as far away from this man as you could.

Bakugou refused to look you in the eyes again, knowing any sanity he had left at this point would be thrown out the window. He just couldn’t, what on earth were you doing. Why were you doing this to him?

His overwhelming thoughts came to a silence when your smooth digits slid across his cheek to cup his chin. Such a gentle action that sent chills throughout the boys body.

“Why did you help me Ground Zero?”

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it!

Without much room to speak or even think, his rough grasp suddenly caught your hips before he slammed you against the brick wall behind you causing a yelp to escape your lips before he slammed his fist beside your head and gave you a dangerous look.

“Fucking hell (L/n) you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into!” Bakugou shouted, teeth gritting so hard he swore he would need surgery. After looking up to your wide child like stare it only made him worse, “You’re trying to pry at the wrong fucking door princess, and once you open it there’s no going back you hear me?”

Your mouth opened slightly, lips agape in the slightest as you looked down as if contemplating the offer. Part of Bakugou wished you would walk away now and save yourself from whatever you were trying to open up. But the other half of him had never felt so alive, he truly was able to crack at your hero shell with just a few words, what he could do with more words and actions simply made his heart race at the thought.

Biting your lip you looked up to him, the firm glint in your eye was easily recognizable to when you first entered the bar before. He knew before you even said a word what choice you had made, and ever since you muttered those four words his life had never been the same.

“I can handle it.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #evil bakugou #villain bakugou #villain au #vigilante bakugou #anti hero bakugou #bakugou x reader #villain bakugou x reader #anti hero bakugou x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #I posted?? #w . o a h #this actually took awhile #idk if I like it or not #W E . LP #enjoy

[astudyinfic]

My contribution for @ficletinstruments​ Week 15 “Sports AU”

Sure, Wimbledon might be the biggest tournament in the world, but that doesn't mean Magnus can't flirt with his opponent a the same time.

He was as good at multi-tasking as he was at tennis.

Magnus/Alec, Rated t

Originally posted on AO3

“This is the biggest stage of your career, Magnus. Don’t ruin everything by thinking with the wrong head.” Ragnor had it wrong. Magnus could think well with both heads simultaneously.

That ass in those white shorts? Who could blame him if his thoughts traveled to a sleazy place? Which could prove difficult for the finals since Magnus Bane was playing none other than Alec Lightwood; he of the pert ass in tight shorts.

Strutting onto Center Court at Wimbledon, the grass firm beneath his feet, Magnus grinned. Yes, it was the finals of the biggest tournament of his life. Yes, he wanted to win. But he could still have fun while doing it.

Set 1

At first serve, the announcer stated, “Love all,” and Magnus winked at Alec who blushed before shaking his head and refocused. Magnus served the ball, turning his attention to winning. Then flirting.

Avoiding the microphones, Magnus leaned across the net between games. “You must be a let because I would do you over and over again.” Alec’s blush was worth it.

At the end of the set, Magnus handed the tennis balls to Alec, running his fingers along his wrist. “Advantage me,” he purred, to which Alec furrowed his brow.

“We aren’t even playing right now. How do you have an advant...” Glaring when he realized what Magnus was saying, Alec stomped away.

If Magnus watched him go, no one could blame him for that.

Set 2

After a cross-court shot that won the point for Alec, Magnus nodded in appreciation. “It’s amazing what you can do with balls, Alexander. I like that in a man.”

Alec choked. Good, he was getting to him. Magnus only hoped that would result in wins on and off the court.

The next rally was long and strenuous and every grunt from the other side of the court had Magnus wanting to take him right then and there. “I can only imagine the racquet you make off the court as well.”

Alec walked away looking scandalized.

Set 3

When the third set was over, the match had already been decided. Magnus had lost but he didn’t mind much. There was always next year and he lost to a formidable opponent. When they met to shake hands and offer congratulations, Alec asked, “Were you messing with me?”

Magnus offered a warm smile and shook his head. “Darling, trust me, the only time I’d play games with you is on the court. I’d love to take you out.”

Alec hadn’t responded to any of his flirtations yet so Magnus expected the man to brush him off again. He wasn’t prepared when Alec smiled. “I’ll have to do post-match interviews. Maybe tennish?”

Eyes widening at the pun, Magnus couldn’t help but mirror the pure joy on Alec’s face. “Alexander, you played a good match, but you and I are a PERFECT match. I’ll see you at ten.”

Never before had a Wimbledon loser walked off the court smiling as brightly as Magnus.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #ficletinstruments #jena writes #shadowhunters fic

[petitelepus]

From a Sinner To a Saint, Part. 1

What should Lost Light do as the liaison from planet Earth is almost the real embodiment of all those seven sins people so avoid and despise? Not much, she's tiny and cute, even if she's a pervert. But what about then when liaison falls head-over-heels to a mech who would probably never look at them the same way? They take drastic measures to make themselves someone the mech could love back.

You were one of the millions, the rare one, chosen to travel across the galaxies! While you were officially NOT the first human on space, but you were definitely the first one to travel millions of light years away from your solar cycle just FOR a job! But you could honestly say that you loved your job. WHO ELSE GOT TO WORK WITH GIANT ROBOTS FROM SPACE!?

Plus, you really liked these robots or Autobots around you. Honestly, you liked them far more than you like humans. Why? Why would you leave your home planet, friends and family to support your family and siblings and their dreams financially?

Honestly, you had nothing on Earth. A lousy job with dead serious people around you, friends all around the world but not anywhere 10 miles around you and worse of all… your family didn’t understand you or not in a way you wished they could understand you.

But enough of that. You had to start a day watching over Megatron, filing reports and then spending time with your new friends!

SLOTH

You heard it. That annoying little ringtone ringing from your phone, signaling that it was time for you to wake up. What time it was? What happened yesterday? Oh yeah, you were drinking with guys again. How many you had? You couldn't remember. You felt your body and hair sleepily with your hands and you came to the conclusion that you had at least taken a shower and had dressed up in your nightgown before blacking out. How did you even get back to your room?

You groaned as you forced an eye open and glanced at your phone. Space might have been pitch black, but time still mattered in Lost Light. Especially if you had a meeting with Rodimus, Megatron and Ultra Magnus at nine in the morning. It was 08:30.

You groaned and hit the snooze before turning on your side and going back to sleep. Ten more minutes. You could still nap for ten minutes...

WRATH

God and Primus, you hated yourself SO MUCH! Why you had to be such a lazy ass and keep sleeping!? You’ve slept past your snooze alarm and you came to the meeting an hour late. Ultra Magnus gave you a proper reprimanding as why you should pay more attention to your duties, clothes, and people around you since your late arrival didn’t just make you clueless of what they had discussed while you were gone, but they would have to go over everything from the start.

You humbly apologised for your lateness and appearance, as your hair was messily combed before you had made it messy again by driving full speed with your hover scooter through ship’s halls so you could make it. You hadn’t had even time to put any nice clothes on, just a clean hoodie from your chair full of clothes, dirty jeans and shoes. You told Ultra Magnus that starting over wasn't necessary and he agreed on it after Megatron had offered to show you what you had missed.

After your reprimanding you made your way to Megatron who kindly shared his notes with you about what you had missed during last hour.

ENVY

Goddammit, Megatron had the most beautiful handwriting you had ever seen in your life. Cursive style, elegant and so clear to read. You had always wanted to handwrite like that ever since when you first learned to write in cursive. You were always so jealous of your classmates and how their handwriting was so beautiful when yours looked like a child’s writing.

Technically you were a child back then, but you felt like less than your classmates since you weren’t as good as them in school. Either way, the past was past, friends were lost and bullies were pranked.

You thanked Megatron with finger guns and started taking notes as Ultra Magnus continued the meeting now since you were there also. The meeting continued for two hours before you got to take a one-hour lunch break. After the break, you had about three more hours of papers and datapads to go through. Finally, at 4 pm. you were free for a couple of days again.

That in mind, you jumped to your hover scooter and dashed out of the meeting room faster than any mouse or roadrunner could run. You had a crazy long weekend to start!

GLUTTONY

”Man, these chips are delicious!” You moaned out loud as you stuffed another sinfully and deliciously salted potato chip into your mouth. Mechs around you laughed a little old tipsy you. Compared to the time when you had started to travel with them, you could barely take two strong drinks, but now you could drink maybe six or seven and even some shots of liqueur. After some nice drinks, you usually liked to snack on something and today Swerve had gone the extra mile to get you REAL potato chips!

"Easy there or you might choke." Skids chuckled as he watched you eat and take gulps of your drink. You swallowed the snacks down with the alcohol and gave Skids bedroom eyes.

"There are many things I can choke on and food isn't one on my list of approval, Skids," You said and made a very lewd gesture with your hand to the kind mech, who smiled humorously to your little flirt.

"Fleshy, you freak!" Whirl laughed from your other side and you managed to just in time lift your glass off the table before Whirl banged his claws on it, hitting it as he laughed. "You organics are so gross! I mean, I've met some pretty FUCKED UP PEOPLE, but you humans take the lead!"

LUST & GREED

You rolled your eyes as you smiled and took a sip of your drink, before turning towards still laughing Whirl. "What was that Whirl? You said you want to do me?”

”What makes you think I want my spike anywhere near your gross fluid leaking holes?” The mech asked while he eyed you, his optic squinting in mirth. He couldn’t wait to hear what you had to say to him because knowing you, it was something freaky and Whirl was all about freaky shit.

He wasn’t wrong.

You drank rest of your drink in one go, alcohol burning your throat and a great comeback coming to you. You pushed your glass out, silently requesting a refill and turned towards waiting Whirl.

”Well, you’re obviously pretty fucked up like you always tell us, so you obviously want to fuck me and my fucked up slime oozing human body because that’s what a freak like you would do.” You grinned and burst out laughing at the ridiculous look on mech’s non-existent face. Skids snickered behind you and Whirl squinted at you like he was coming up with a great comeback.

"Heh, in your dreams anyone would want to frag you willingly!" Whirl laughed and that jabbed you a little harder than intended. Your laughter died out, before starting all over again. ”Oh, I get it! You’re jealous of me!”

If he could spit, Whirl would had. ”Me!? Why would I be jealous to a weak tiny organic like you!”

A smile rose to your lips, so sinful and sinister that it had the psychopath before you vibrating in his seat like he was ready to come right here and now.

”Because I got more toys than you could ever dream of having~!”

”Liar! I got more toys than you have!”

”The good toys Whirl. Not the toys for killing cons, but toys to pleasure bots!” You laughed. That caught his attention. In a second you were squeezed tight between his claws and lifted up from your seat and laid to rest right on top of Whirl’s impressive mechanic gun tiddies for a private chat. Not that you two were being very quiet or secretive about it.

”How much are we talking here?”

”Enough to fill up every mech’s valve in this ship.”

”Magnus is gonna need four.”

”I got big enough to stuff up the big guy once and for all.”

”Nice. Anything special for me?”

”I have a ribbed glass tentacle, pointy alien dick, and much more freaky stuff someone like you would enjoy.”

If the whirring of Whirl’s cooling fans wasn’t evident before then it was now as he started to heat up too much for his own good. You wondered briefly if anyone saw, but it appeared that most of the bar’s customers avoided looking at you.

”I need those in me…!” Whirl all but whined. You grinned at him and blew him a quick cheeky kiss. ”Well, too bad, because thanks to that big vocalizer of yours you ain’t getting any.” You jumped off from Whirl’s tiddies and walked back to your bar stool.

The helicopter squinted his optic at you and hissed at you. ”You fragging tease…!”

PRIDE

”I am and you love it.” You grinned and turned your attention back to Skids who had listened to your conversation quietly from the side. He smiled at you. ”Kinky stuff you got there.”

You couldn’t help but to smile and buff out your chest in great pride and joy that swelled inside you when you got complimented by your impressive toy collection. It had taken a fortune and many commission jobs to get your collection to the point it was today. Getting your collection past Red Alert wasn’t an easy job either!

”Skids my friend, if you ever need something to keep you company at night, I and my collection are at your service!”

Skids chuckled and winked at you a little too playfully and little less sinfully as you would have liked. ”I’ll keep that in mind if I ever pass by your vent.”

You laughed, reaching for your drink only to remember that you had drunk it already. You tried to spot Swerve or Bluestreak from the crowded bar when your eyes landed on someone you had never seen before.

A green minibot walked into a bar and no, this was not a joke, there really was a green minibot with a freaking mustache on his face taking a seat at the corner of the bar where there were fewer mechs and action.

You had absolutely no idea who he was, but there was a burning need in you to find out his name and where you could find him once you’ve sobered up. Maybe try to befriend him and once you’ve won him to your side with your charming personality you two could be something more…!

"Gorgeous…!” You whispered in awe. Skids raised his other optic ridge in confusion and shared a glance with equally confused Whirl before they followed your eyes to green mech and both awed in realization.

What was this feeling taking you over? It felt like you had inhaled too much helium and you were about to pass out like there was lava going through your veins yet you felt cold like you were outside in space like your insides were floating and twisting inside you.

Could it be… love?

Perhaps an… obsession?

Either way, you had to know everything about him now.

”Who is he…?! How come I haven’t seen him before…!? I know every other mech in this ship and I have never seen him before…!” You hissed under your breath while staring at the green mech like a real creep you were.

”That’s because you’ve imagined all those mechs spikes in your mouth that you even bothered to memorize. Pit, even I haven’t bothered to go that far!” Whirl snorted behind you and you wanted to hit him so hard that he would spend the rest of the night in medbay but that would probably cost you your hand. So you gave him the ultimate fuck you that he couldn’t even return. A nice look at your middle finger, the one of many he lacked.

”Skids, help me out, who is he?”

”He’s Minimus Ambus.” Skids said, an amused smile tugging corners of his lips. You literally had stars in your eyes and he found it so cute. ”You probably haven’t seen him because you weren’t with us while the whole Tyrest fiasco went through and that’s pretty good.”

”What’s his position? What does he do around the ship? Where does he hide all day?”

”Besides from you?” Whirl laughed, his joke actually getting laughs from other mechs who heard him. Skids rolled his optics, but he couldn’t help a little chuckle that slipped from his mouth. ”He’s our second-in-command. His word is the greatest here, besides Rodimus’ and Megatron’s.”

That snapped you out of your daze and sent you spiraling into confusion. ”Wait, I thought Ultra Magnus was second-in-command?” You asked, looking at Skids. The blue mech opened his mouth to answer, but Whirl was quicker. ”Primus, that bot you’re making goo-goo eyes at is Ultra Magnus! That tiny mech with facial insignia just moves big mech’s body around!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. There was another mech living inside Ultra Magnus and actually moving him around!? Your mind was blown away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the fact that this Minimus Ambus you are drooling after is the biggest mech you have ever seen. All you knew was that you wanted him badly.

”Oh my God, I want him to rail me so hard…!”

Whirl snorted behind you and you shot him a glare over your shoulder. His optic squinted in a way you learned to recognize as a smile and it wasn’t a kind smile that a helpful wingman would give you when you saw someone you liked. You scowled. ”What? What’s with that look?”

”Do you honestly think that he would want to frag you?”

”Whirl, c’ mon, don’t be a scraphead—”

”No no Skids, let him talk. What’s that supposed to mean?”

”Well, would the Ultra Magnus you know want to frag you?”

You opened your mouth. ”I—”

”ÄÄÄH! Wrong! He wouldn’t! You’re all about drinking with losers like us and fragging! Mags is all about sterile stuff, neatness, rules, and what-so-ever! The guy can’t probably even get it up without rulebook and even if he could, why would he do anything with you?”

”I’m—”

”Cute? Maybe, but have you scored any since you became lord aft port’s babysitter?”

At this point, you were pretty pissed off at Whirl, but more than that, you were starting to really feel the booze in your system. Everything was turning blurry and you could swear you saw TWO Whirls! The mere sight of that made you smack a hand over your mouth and double over.

”Ugh… I need to go…” You tried to reach for your scooter’s handle, but even you could in your current state realize that you were far too drunk to drive. Sick and defeated, you turned towards your good friend Skids. ”Do you mind giving me a lift…? I- I don’t think I can drive…”

The mech gave you a sad smile and with a couple of gentle words picked you up and carried you out of the bar, Whirl's catcalling sending you off. You clung to his hands with all your might as he tried to keep you from getting any sicker. He punched in your habsuite’s code, entered you lair of sin and laid you down on your bed.

”Thank you Skids… You’re a true friend…” You groaned, quickly burying your face against your fluffy pillow. Skids smiled sympathetically to you, gently brushing tip of his servo up and down your back. ”Goodnight little guy.” Skids wished you gently and left, making sure to close your suite’s door behind you.

You kept hugging your pillow like wishing that it could take the whole sickening feeling away, but sadly Brainstorm hadn’t invented a pillow with such mighty power yet. Just thinking about your stomach twisting inside you made you feel sicker and you felt something prob your throat--

Oh no…!

You quickly ran to your bathroom and soon the sound echoing through your suite was your sickening retching as you emptied all the precious alcohol Swerve had gotten you down to the toilet and into space.

The retching continued about couple minutes until you could only dry heave as nothing kept your stomach full anymore. Tears streamed down your face as you pulled back, your stomach now calmer and you closed the lid so you wouldn’t need to see your sickening stomach juices anymore as you flushed them down the sewer that would dispose it to space.

You slumped to the bathroom floor, weakly and not to mention sadly taking support from your toilet seat while you tried to collect strength to pull yourself back up. In your sad state, you couldn’t help but feel repulsed by yourself. At moments like these, you could somewhat understand why Decepticons and some Cybertronians didn’t like organics. Hell, you didn’t even like yourself.

The self-pity and -hate brought back what Whirl said to you and you glanced at your suite from your bathroom’s open doorway. Shelves filled with porn comics, a big chest filled with toys and walls decorated with hentai star posters.

Your brains started to color up everything Whirl had said without your blessing. He was right, you were gross, you were a pervert, you neglected your health and responsibilities and no one would ever like you in a romantic way. Mechs barely liked you, you bet they just put up with your presence because big people back in Earth wanted you to watch over Megatron.

Your heart sank as you thought about never being really liked or accepted and your mind wandered back to Minimus Ambus you had seen in the bar. He was so gorgeous, you wanted to get to know him more, you wanted to befriend him and later perhaps become something more.

But alas, you were a disgusting sinner, best you could do was to go to sleep, sober up and forget any of this happened.

…But the longer you stared at the white tiles around your bathroom, the worst you started to feel about the idea of letting go of the chance to charm and court the green minibot, but you knew that Minimus Ambus or Ultra Magnus would never like you the way you liked them as you were now. But what could you do?

Your stomach gurgled in protest and you quickly slammed toiler seat open, ready to throw up if needed again, but it was luckily a false alarm and nothing came up. You felt so weak, your arms trembled as you pushed yourself up on your feet. You needed to sleep this one over.

You quickly washed your disgusting mouth, making sure to use mouthwash twice before closing the lights and walking over to your bed. You threw away all your clothes and just slithered under the blanket and curled up around your pillow, hugging it like it was your only comfort in the big lonely space.

You peeked outside from your window, looking at the dim stars shining in the distance and you managed to catch a lonely flying star in the darkness. You frowned as a sad little wish slipped past your lips.

”I wish I was better human…”

#mtmte #Transformers MTMTE #transformers #reader #reader insert #Minimus Ambus #Ultra Magnus #Megatron #Whirl #Skids #Drinking #Puke #retching #seven deadly sins #suggestive #naughty

[thatgirlonstage]

The Things She Forgot

This is a sort-of companion piece to my other TAZ fic, The Things They Remembered, but it totally works as a stand-alone, you don’t have to read one to read the other. They’re just similar in style.

Spoilers for all of the Balance Arc.

Memories are fragile. They fade and warp and crumble away at the edges, even when they are not eaten by static.

*

When they first walk in the door, she thinks her heart might burst out of her chest. She had observed them from afar, of course, but always from a distance, through reports and spies and magic. She didn’t dare get too close. Seeing them in person again, it was all she could do to stop herself rushing forward to hug them. She could only drink in the sight of them, reminding herself of every detail she had lost in the years away.

Magnus has changed the most out of any of them, a whole decade making itself known on his human body in a way that has not affected Taako or Merle. There’s a new scar that splits his face, right across his eye, presumably from his battle in Raven’s Roost. His shoulders are broader and rounder than they had been at twenty-one, and his muscles sit differently on his bones. Still, her heart thuds at the sight of little things she had forgotten. His sideburns are cut the same way he had kept them for an entire century. He still has that woodworking callus on his thumb. Then he asks her name and she stumbles over her own tongue because she suddenly remembers, clear as day, the sound of a wooden duck hitting the floor, and Magnus’s voice saying Who are you, and she remembers the betrayal that had lingered in his eyes even as his legs went out from under him.

Merle is almost the same, stumpy and inappropriate and waddling after his friends. He’s braided flowers into his beard in a style she hasn’t seen since the sixty-fourth cycle. She didn’t know he’d started doing that again. He absent-mindedly rubs the edge of his hand-axe, and she’d forgotten he used to do that when he was thinking, that it always helped him concentrate.

There’s something wrong with Taako, something she can’t quite put her finger on at first. He seems the same— his hair falling out in voluminous waves from under his green pointed hat, his nails perfectly manicured, his mischievous quirk of a smile when he makes a dirty joke at Magnus’ expense. Then he says, “I’m but a simple idiot wizard” and she almost blows her cover then and there as she is startled into correcting him. But Magnus agrees with him, and he insists, and then she sees it: it’s his eyes. They are unfocused somehow. There is fire missing from inside them.

*

Memories are splinters. They break apart and drift away, out of context.

*

“Elderflower macarooooons,” Taako says, waving a plate under her nose. It’s the first time in a decade she’s been offered Taako’s cooking, because she never dared to attend Sizzle It Up. She can’t say no to this, so she picks one up and takes a bite.

“Hot diggity shit,” she says, repressing an outpouring of swears because she’s just been transported back twenty-odd years to a day aboard the Starblaster when Taako and Lup made almost two hundred macaroons. She doesn’t remember why – although in all likelihood the reason was why the fuck not – but she does remember Taako chasing her down the hall with levitating trays of macaroons, and the distant sound of Lup shouting Try the lavender ones as Barry tried to escape the kitchen. She doesn’t remember what cycle this was, or how they even got their hands on the ingredients, but she remembers the taste of seemingly infinite macaroons, and realizes she hasn’t thought about that day since they made the relics.

*

Memories are whisper games, stories retold and drawings retraced until they are nearly unrecognizable.

*

Merle is lounging beside her in a mud bath. She has to stop herself from staring at the stump of his arm. Not because she hasn’t seen him missing limbs before – they all lost an arm or a leg during at least one cycle – but because she’s responsible, and because, if her plan works, there is no reset this time. They told her about Kravitz, bursting into laughter at the absurd notion that they had died eight, nineteen, fifty-seven times, and Lucretia bit her tongue, thinking of her own six deaths. What kind of bounty did that reaper have on her? What would have happened if Kravitz had managed to collect the entire crew’s souls? Would they have been safer if they knew about their past? Could she have saved Merle’s arm?

Was this how they had lost Lup?

It’s too late, anyway, and she’s come too far to backtrack now. But she can’t remember the last time she and Merle really talked. There was so little time, in most of those later cycles. There were so many years of broken worlds and the Hunger snapping at their heels, not to mention all the years when Merle went to parlay with John and vaporized in a curl of smoke. So she sits and talks, because this man is like the strange, globetrotting uncle she never had, with stories she’s never sure whether to believe.

“You gotta stand for something, or you’re gonna fall for anything. So listen! You have got faith; it’s faith in you.”

She has to resist throwing her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. She’d forgotten so much. She remembered him leaving for parlay with John, and starting the First Church of Fungston, and walking away at the sight of a town drowned by the Gaia Sash, the corpse of a small child floating gently by. But she’d forgotten the real Merle, irreverent, wild-haired, joyous Merle. She’d forgotten the wisdom that spilled from his lips, wrapped in impossibly unconquered optimism. She’d forgotten how much his irreverence was part and parcel of his faith. She’d forgotten how this contradictory bundle of a dwarf could help them all take a step back and remember the joy in their lives. She hadn’t realized how sorely she’d needed his advice these past ten years.

*

Memories are photographs, snapshots of important moments. But there is an infinity of moments left behind, abandoned to fade into nothing.

*

The moment the Animus Bell has been taken care of, she orders everyone out. Taako and Merle are waiting in her office, and she needs to go to them, and the Hunger is coming – she’s been seeing the signs for a while now – so she needs to start casting her spell as soon as she can. But first she collapses to the ground. Her legs simply give out from under her, breath shuddering through her body.

She should have known Magnus might not make it out of Wonderland.

That first year, the first world, they’d had a screaming match as Davenport piloted the Starblaster into the next plane, because they couldn’t just leave Magnus behind but have you seen what’s happening down there, he’s dead, they’re all dead. And then suddenly Magnus had materialized beside them, looking just as surprised as all the rest of them. She could remember with aching precision the swooping feeling of relief in her gut. She didn’t know Magnus all that well at the time, despite spending some time on the ship with him that year, but he was still one of only six people left from her home world, and she didn’t want to lose him.

Now he was gone for good, and it feels like a piece of her soul has been ripped out. With the Animus Bell right there, she’d felt the thrall of one of the relics for the first time in her life. How easy it would be, to reach out and just take it, just call up one soul, one soul who already had over twenty resurrections on its conscience anyway…

She wishes to every god in every plane that she were Lup, or Taako, or Barry. She wants to hurl fireballs and tear down the walls around her. She wants to rip the entire Bureau up stone by stone. She wants to barrel towards Wonderland in a whirl of pure destruction. She would trade away her time, her eyes, her luck, the hands that had lovingly written each journal, every single memory she had, to bring Magnus back.

She can’t pinpoint the moment the crew of the Starblaster had transitioned from crewmates to friends to family. She remembers one year when Magnus, Taako, Lup, and Barry had all died. Merle had survived the year, but he’d spent the last few months lost deep in a jungle after a failed attempt to recover the Light of Creation. Those months with no one there but Davenport and Lucretia had been painfully quiet. The Starblaster had gotten damaged in their search – which was why they had to abandon Merle – so they had poured all their time into repairing it, finishing with little time to spare before the Hunger came.

As soon as the reset happened, the whole team had gathered into the Starblaster’s living room. Somehow they managed to fit all seven of them onto a couch meant at most for four people. Lup curled onto Barry’s lap, arms wrapped tight around his neck, their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath. Magnus picked up Davenport and set him, protesting, on his own lap. Merle tried to crawl onto Taako, who had a brief shoving match with him until Merle finished sitting on the edge of the armrest. Lucretia found herself in the middle. She pulled out a journal and began to read.

At some point, she reached the part where Lup and Taako had been separated from the rest of them, and Lup jumped in eagerly to fill in the blanks. Lucretia wrote at lightning speed, recording everything she had missed. Taako and Lup traded off explaining how they had been killed by a mudslide that buried them too quickly for either of them to fire off a spell. Barry, Magnus, and Merle all spoke up to recount their own adventures and deaths. By the end, they had all traded their stories for the year, and Lucretia’s journals were complete.

She can remember that day with the warm glow of a treasured moment. But she can’t remember when she had become comfortable enough with all her crewmates to crowd onto a couch with all of them at once. She can’t remember when she stopped recording their lives because it was her job and started recording them because they were her family. She can’t remember when she started peppering her journals with additions like, “Lup and Taako had to subsist on food they could catch and gather for themselves – of course, Taako’s biggest complaint about this entire arrangement was the lack of spices.”

How many things has she forgotten about Magnus? How many jokes will she never hear again? How much did he learn in their century of travel that she will never know? How long will it take her memory of him to blur at the edges, until she can picture only a vague outline of his face, remember only that his voice was low and gruff, but not the exact sound as he offered her comfort, or jumped out from behind a rock shouting “MAGNUS!”?

There’s no Animus Bell pulling her into its thrall, but for a moment, she is tempted. There’s a way to fix it, after all. She knows where the Starblaster is. She’s rusty, but she’s sure she could pilot it away.

She could save her family. She could fix Merle’s hand and eye. She could summon Lup from wherever she has disappeared to. She could bring Magnus back, so that she never has to forget the kindness in his eyes.

All it would cost is a world.

*

Memories are empty. They are shadows of the past.

*

She bursts into the room with her guards and doesn’t know how to catalogue the feelings that swell in her chest at the sight of Barry Bluejeans. His eyes are clear and she knows that he remembers. He knows exactly who she is and what she’s done.

He looks almost exactly the same. Unlike her and Magnus, Barry has not aged. She’d thought, she’d hoped, that when she’d lost track of him as a lich after the first time, that he had made himself a body, lost his memory, and was living a normal life somewhere. But ever since Magnus, Merle, and Taako told her about the Red Robe in Captain Bane’s office, she realized she’d been wrong. Barry had been hiding from her all this time, probably dropping in and out of bodies constantly. He looks, physically, exactly the same as he did the first day on the Starblaster. The same blue jeans, the same round cheeks and square glasses, the same mole on his jaw. The only thing she doesn’t recognize is the cold fury in his eyes when he sees at her.

If Barry – sweet, nerdy, shy Barry – ever looked at her like that before, she can’t remember it.

*

Memories are lonely. They are reminders of other times, other people, other places, but in the end they are nothing but ghosts.

*

“Lucretia… why?”

The words make every muscle in her body still. Davenport’s voice is different. It’s not just that he’s saying words other than his name. He’s speaking with purpose. He’s speaking with clarity.

Lucretia… why?

Ten years, and even on his best day, he could never say her name.

Lucretia… why?

She remembers, abruptly, the first day she ever met Davenport. It was a briefing for the Starblaster mission. They hadn’t even finalized the decision on the crew yet. There were still thirty candidates in the pool. The IPRE only knew that Davenport was definitely the captain. He’d been giving a presentation on the bond engine and the potential risks and rewards of the mission. Starry-eyed, she had stayed back to introduce herself afterward, catching him as he was packing up.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep you, I just wanted to say— well, I’m one of the youngest people here, so I don’t imagine you’ll probably pick me for the Starblaster, but I think everything the IPRE is doing is so fascinating and— I just wanted to say, even if it’s not for this mission, it would be an honor to work with you in the future, sir.” Davenport had turned, smiling his gentle smile.

“Age is not necessarily a determining factor. We’re most interested in exactly the kind of passion you’re talking about.”

“Thank you, sir,” Lucretia had said. She was shaking with nervousness, but elation inflated her heart.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Oh— um. Lucretia. From the Chronicler department.” Davenport had stuck out his hand to shake hers.

“Lucretia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She realizes with a hammer to her heart that she must have met her entire family that day. Magnus, Merle, Taako, Lup, and Barry must all have been in that room with her. They must have all said their names in the brief little ice-breaker. She wonders if they remember seeing her, meeting her, for the first time. Except for Davenport, she doesn’t know when she first talked to any of them. She can’t remember the first words she said, or the first time she met their eyes.

Lucretia… why?

*

Memories are a comfort. They wrap you in borrowed warmth and safety, and hide you from an unforgiving present.

*

“You’re DATING THE GRIM REAPER?”

She’s had her world rocked so many times today already that the sight of Lup almost breaks her. The protection spell flickers for an imperceptible instant before she returns to channeling it. Nothing, not even Lup’s return, can distract her now. But still, it knocks the breath out of her to hear Lup’s voice again. The vestiges of her flames are vanishing into the room, their heat dissipating. She’s forgotten how powerful Lup is, how she can swoop in and set the entire world on fire, both literally and figuratively.

She had looked. She had never stopped looking, not really. When Taako had appeared with Lup’s umbra staff, she hadn’t known what to think. When she’d heard about Kravitz, she thought she’d found her answer, as much as it pained her. But still, even as she gathered the relics and started to see the Hunger’s scouts appear, she still quietly asked all her seekers to keep an eye out for a certain elvish woman. Just in case.

She had hoped she had been doing Taako and Barry a favor, trying to let them forget Lup. But the sheer rage and despair in their eyes told her differently. There had been nights when she closed her eyes and let herself pretend she was still on the Starblaster. She had drifted back to memories of happier times and lived in them for a little while.

Taako and Barry had had nothing in their past but static.

*

Memories are persistent. Even in the darkness of everything forgotten, a certain smell, or a taste, or a sound brings them welling to the present, no matter how ill-defined. But they are still nothing but shadows dancing on a wall. They are not now.

*

Magnus catches her in a hug, and she sags against him. And then Merle has joined him, Magnus lifting him one-armed to let him reach around her shoulders. And then Lup is there, and Lup is forgiving her, her incorporeal hand brushing along Lucretia’s back. She can’t feel it, but where Lup is, she raises goosebumps on her skin.

It’s not everyone. Davenport stands by the ship, conflict clear in his face. Magnus is motioning to Taako, but he’s planted himself away from her. His eyes still go hard when he looks at her. Where they were once missing fire, it has been replaced with crystal, hard and unforgiving. Barry comes over and stands close, next to Lup, but he doesn’t quite reach out to Lucretia. His too-young face stays still, betraying nothing.

But it’s enough. Her family is here, reunited, and for the first time in over a decade, they are truly working together again. And she realizes, as her heart strains inside her chest, that she had forgotten what it feels like not to be alone.

#taz #taz: balance #lucretia #ipre crew #the adventure zone #my writing #A N G S T #i feel like i had something else to say at the start there but now i forget what it was

[sometimesambroswrites]

Hey can u maybe write a malec fic, if you want, about magnus and Alec and they are going on a date so Alec asks Izzy for help on how to dress and then the actual date itself??

Hi!Thank you for the prompt! Hopefully you’ll like it :3I hope you don’t mind that I involved the whole gang in this :)

Read on AO3

Take my hand (Take my whole life too)

“You would think that after a year spent with Magnus Bane you wouldhave learned how to properly dress without any help.”

“Can someone slap him for me, please?” Alec asks from inside thecloset – no, the irony isn't lost on him. Thank you, Simon.

A satisfying whack lets Alecknow that someone did, and the following dude, I was justcarrying out orders!, lets himknow that it was Simon.

He sighs, letting one of his oldershirts fall on the floor – seriously, why wouldhe even buy that – and backs out of the closet: “This is all,”he says, pointing at the mess they've made on the bed.

Clary and Izzy stare pensively atthe amount of clothes, picking one out from time to time andcommunicating between them with their eyebrows and pinchedexpressions. Alec is slowly but surely losing hope and Simon ismuttering something about a sheer shirt he's seen Raphael wear.

“It's our anniversary,” Alecreminds him, snapping,“I'm not looking for a job as a stripper.”

Simon frowns, offended, and Izzyglares at Alec. Alecsurrenders, raising his hands: “Sorry, I'm just – I don't knowwhy I'm so stressed.”

“It's normal,” Clary says,rubbing her hand on Alec's biceps comfortably, “One year is a bigdeal. And it wasn't exactly a relaxing one.”

Alec sighs, falls down on the bed,his head close to Jace's knees, all of his clothes dangerously closeto the edge: “I still haven't found anything to wear andI haven't even set the officeup.”

“Alright,” Izzy says, in hertaking control since you all are clearly incapable humanbeings tone, “Here's whatwe'll do. First, we need to find something for you to wear. Second,two of us,” she points at Jace and Simon, “will go set up theoffice and pick up the food while you shower and we,” she points atClary and herself, “will get you ready.”

Alec frowns from the bed: “I'm notsure letting these two,” he points at Jace and Simon, who frowndown at him, “set up the office is the greatest idea.”

“Good point,” Izzy says,ignoring Jace and Simon's protests, “Clary and Jace will go.Without,” she adds,a glare clear in her voice, “making out in the meantime.”

“We'll try,” Jace drawls,“Also,” he adds, slipping off the bed, “I have something Aleccan wear.”

“Nothing too trashy,” Izzywarns, pointing her manicured finger at him.

Jace frowns: “I'm offended,” hesays, but Clary is already dragging him through a portal back to theInstitute.

*

Jace's arm pops out of the portalnot ten minutes later in the creepiest way possible, a simple whitet-shirt hanging from his fingers with a note on it that says withthe blazer; Alec takes the shirtfrom his fingers and says: “We should communicate this way moreoften.”

Jace flips him off.

Izzy is already studying the t-shirtwith a thoughtful tilt of her lips: “This could work,” shemutters, holding up the dark grey blazer over a tight pair of blackjeans; she throws them on the bed with a satisfied clap of her hands:“You, go shower,” she orders, looking at Alec, then twirls tolook at Simon: “You, go get me your hair product. And I'll need youto buy a pair of shoes.”

They both mutter: “Yes, ma'am.”

*

“I look like a douche,” Aleccomplains, barely restraining himself from unrolling the sleeves ofthe blazer, currently rolled up almost to his elbows.

“Yes,” Clary says, “But notJace-douche, you know?”

Jace gapes at her.

“Yes man, you look like a reformedbad boy who kept his wardrobe,” Simon says, enthusiastically, “Notone of those bad boys who are actually jerks, though. More like oneof those who actually had a difficult life and didn't deal with it bybeing abusive – ”, Izzy elbows him in his side, “Okay, I'llshut up.”

“But why can't I wear socks?”,Alec asks, pointing at his sock-less feet wrapped in a pair of new,black loafers.

“Because,” Izzy says, ina tone that suggests she's going to lose her patience pretty soon,“That's how you wear them. Now shut up, you look great, let us fixyour hair.”

“My hair?”, Alec asks, his handsreaching instinctively for his dark hair, “But I've already brushedmy hair.”

Izzy looks unamused as she pusheshim down on the bed, a can of something inone hand and a comb in the other.

“We'll go pick up the food,”Clary says, dragging away Jace, who looks way too entertained.

The hair fixing part isn't astraumatic as Alec thought it'd be – mainly because it doesn'tinvolve any cutting, which is great; Izzy brushes her hands in hishair a few times, with the slightest bit of hair gel in her hands,fixes a few strands of rebel hair here and there to create an artfulmess that looks almost intentional,like he's just spent an hour in a wind that was trying to comb hishair. He's actually impressed.

“This,” he says, looking athimself in the mirror, his eyebrows raised, “actually looks good.”

“Of course it does,” Izzy says,trying to sound insulted and actually sounding pretty proud ofherself.

Alec shakes his head and drags hercloser, an arm thrown over her shoulder; he plants a kiss on her hairas she protests, something about wrinkles and ironing. “Thank you.”

Izzy smiles fondly: “You'rewelcome.”

*

He's nervous and he doesn't evenknow why.

He's pacing and he's been pacing forten minutes.

The room is pretty much perfect andhe's at least avoiding stepping on the petals scattered on the floor.There are two candles on the laden table and the lights are dimmedand Alec has unrolled his damn sleeves at least four times already.Izzy's text is still lighting up his phone.

There are three knocks on the doorand Alec stills. “Come in,” he says, his voice trembling thetiniest bit, and Magnus comes in, saying: “Hey, Izzy said – ”before the surprise steals the voice right out of his throat.

He blinks, his eyes open wide as hetakes in the sight before him. He's speechless and Alec feels thetension melt right out of him as he murmurs: “Happy anniversary.”,a smile curling his lips.

Magnus takes a few steps into theroom, letting the door close behind him;“I – I thought you'd forgotten.”

Alec kisses his lips then, slow andtender, his hand cupping his neck, his fingers curled in his jacket:“I could never forget.”

*

It's dinner like every other night,except that it's fancier and there is no risk of someone receiving acall that will force them to leave the table mid-meal, and there'ssomething soft and relaxed and sweet about the way they simply are,in awe of the fact that they are there, together.

There is something that makes Alecstop listening while Magnus is talking, dessert between them: therealization, like a bone-deep knowledge, of everything they've had tofight in order to be there, and the certainty that he'd fightanything and anyone to have just one more second of this.

*

“There is one more thing,” Alecsays as he stands up, the tips of his ears burning as Magnus looks upcuriously at him, eyes bright.

He messes with his phone like Simonhad shown him and music fills the air; he holds out his hand andMagnus takes it in wonder; flirtatiously he says: “I didn't knowyou dance.”

Alec sighs, wraps his arms aroundMagnus' waist and buries his nose in his neck; he whispers: “Ireally don't.”

Magnus wraps his arms around hisneck, smiles against his skin: “Itlooks like you might.”

“I'll awkwardly sway in place foryou.”

Magnus laughs, peppers Alec's neckwith kisses and holds on tight, simple happiness filling his lungs.

Take my hand, take my whole life tooFor I can't help fallingin love with you.

End notes: yes, Simon made the playlist. Yes, I know what songs are on that playlist.

#malec #malec fic #malec fanfic #malec fanfiction #malec fic rec #malec prompt #magnus bane #alec lightwood #clary fray #jace wayland #isabelle lightwood #simon lewis #otp: heart & soul #ambros writes #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fic #shadowhunters fanfic #shadowhunters fanfiction #Anonymous

[taakofromtaz]

fresh static snow chapter 2

Summary:

He didn’t even know her name, yet he felt sorry for her.

(aka Taako forgets Lup, again, and she doesn’t know how to bring him back. He is her heart, but she is also his. What kind of life is it to live without your heart?)

Chapter 2: i’ll cry for you the same

Notes: (transposed from AO3)

THIS IS SUPER UN-BETA’D!!!! i’ll proof it later i just want this posted,

again, the titles are from “fresh static snow” by porter robinson

Word count: 2877

[writing tag] | [Archive of Our Own] | [fic index] | [please consider donating!]

Sometimes Lup forgets how long Taako spent without her. Realistically, it was only a little over ten years, but the passage of time is strange and inconsistent when you’re surrounded by nothing but black curtains and your own thoughts. She’s not even sure she was aware of herself for some of her time alone, and as soon as her brother found her, she was able to regain even more of herself.

It was awful and horrifying (and terrifying) and something she would never wish on another living soul, but at least in her isolation she was able to remind herself that she had family waiting for her: a brother that made her entire world brighter, the love of her life, their assorted collection of brothers and sisters and doofy dads that she couldn’t imagine living without.

She can’t imagine spending those ten years utterly convinced that she never had anyone, that she is and always had been alone, that no one cared enough about her to watch her back or keep her safe or help her survive. Before the end of the world, when she was still trapped in her velvet prison, she could see how shattered her brother was, could see how the parts of him barely fit together, jagged pieces broken so they’d slot together roughly.

She thought that was behind them. She thought that he’d never be like that again. She was so sure they’d be able to fix those broken pieces and fill in the gaps where things went missing and help him be the person he was before Lup ever left him to begin with. All of that was Before.

Today is a Bad Day for Taako.

They’ve all had their share of Bad Days, days so horrible and terrifying that just getting out of bed is a struggle. Lup’s seen plenty of Taako’s Bad Days, days where he sleeps and sleeps and sleeps and every waking moment is spent staring blankly ahead or overthinking or sometimes even crying heartbreaking, end of the world sobs that stab deep into her heart and latch on like fish hooks. Lup’s always tried to be there for her brother on these Bad Days, always tried to be there to hold him and calm his fears and wipe his tears. Her poor, emotionally vulnerable brother, prone to sadness and introspection and self-deprecation and fear.

Today is a Bad Day for Taako, and Lup, for the first time in their lives, doesn’t know how to fix it.

He doesn’t remember her. Again. Anymore. Taako has forgotten Lup and lost several of the last few years and he’s gotten lost inside of his own head and fabricated memories and personalities and Lup is devastated. She hates that this has happened but what she hates even more is that she’s at a total loss as to what to do.

And now he’s gone.

Lup jolts off the couch, eyes wide and heart beating a staccato in her chest. “Taako?” she calls out, glancing around the living room. Nothing looks different than it did earlier, nothing out of place, no obvious signs of her brother leaving. She wonders, briefly, how he managed to pry himself out of her hold without waking her, and she shakes her head to banish the thought. Not important right now.

She pricks her ears up, listening closely for any signs of him, and quietly steps away from the couch and towards the kitchen. She doubts she’ll find him there—he’s been avoiding being alone in the kitchen ever since they moved in—but she decides to check anyway. (Maybe he will be there, she tells herself, trying to calm her racing thoughts. He still thinks he has a show. Maybe he’ll try to cook again.)

The kitchen is big and clean and new and empty. This room looks as untouched as the living room which is as relieving as it is worrying. This new Taako, the one that lived ten years without her, that thinks he grew up alone, that suffered abuse she hasn’t begun to scratch the surface of—she doesn’t know him like she used to and it kills her. She doesn’t know where this new Taako would go to hide, to get away.

The old Taako would have run off to the kitchen for a session of stress cooking or baking. The old Taako would make abhorrent amounts of food and mutter nonsense to himself if he were on the verge of a panic attack. He would move and grab and cook and he was loud and active and showy, hiding his feelings behind a lot talk and flashy magic. This new Taako is quiet and sullen and makes himself small, flinches at loud voices and flying hands, avoids the kitchen like a venomous snake, clutches his ears and chews on his lips.

She doesn’t know where the old Taako meets the new Taako and she can’t reconcile the two together. To be fair, though, she doesn’t think he can either.

This whole thing they’ve had going this past year has been ridiculously hard on him. He won’t admit it, won’t even begin to talk about it, but she can see it in the slump of his shoulders, in the way he tries to smile even when she knows he doesn’t want to, in the way he throws himself into his new endeavors and relationships and business deals. He’s hiding behind so many personas at so many times of the day that she’s not sure if she’s even seen the real Taako yet.

What she saw today, earlier on the couch? That may have been the realest he’s been in years. And he probably doesn’t even realize it.

Lup pulls to a stop, there in the kitchen, eyes staring blankly ahead. The gears in her head keep turning, roll her thought over and over, and she turns on her heel and marches back to his bedroom, keeping her footsteps light enough so it doesn’t sound like stomping, but heavy enough so that he can hear her coming.

She focuses her ears on his bedroom, tries to pick up any unusual sounds. They’re the only ones here today, so unless Barry or Kravitz show up with no warning, Lup will know whenever Taako makes a sound. She reaches his room and pauses, reaching out and putting her hand on his door. It’s shut, which is initially a good sign because it was open before, but it also makes her worry because she doesn’t know what’s on the other side.

“Taako?” she asks, trying to keep her voice soft while also audible through the door. “It’s me, Lup. Can I come in?”

She lays an ear flat against the door and waits. There’s a muffled sniffle, so quiet she’s not sure she would have heard it if she’d stood back, and then he’s saying, “Door’s open.” His voice is utterly wrecked and she tries to keep the frown off her face as she twists the handle and steps inside the room.

It’s darker than she expected—the curtains and blinds are drawn tightly closed—but darkvision renders that sort of problem unimportant. She latches the door behind her and leans back as she surveys the room. All the clothes have been picked through—probably from earlier, when he woke up in an unfamiliar place wearing nothing but sleeping clothes—and the bed is empty of its sheets and blankets.

She knows her brother is here; she heard him. So where…? This room, she remembers, has a walk in closet. It’s the second biggest room in the house, following the master suite, and when she and Barry bought the house—because it had been something the two of them talked about, dreamed about, sometimes with Taako, other times without—they both knew that the three of them would live together. Barry and Lup would get the master suite, having couple’s seniority, and Taako would take the next best thing. (Really, the only difference between the two rooms is the size of the windows, and Taako doesn’t particularly care either way.)

(This house is big enough for their entire ragtag family, they made sure of it. It’s multiple stories high and boasts several bedrooms—some of them being bonus rooms converted to bedrooms by Magnus himself—but it’s the only thing that Lup and Barry had really, truly wanted after over was over and the Hunger was finally gone.)

Lup finds Taako in the darkest corner of the closet, wrapped tightly in his nest of blankets, hands clenched painfully around his ears. Lup winces at the sight and she wants to yank his hands away, but she realizes she needs to be tactful. One wrong move and he might lose whatever faith she’s managed to gain.

“Taako? You in there, sweetie?” She watches his face to gauge his reaction, but either he’s gotten better at making his face carefully blank, she’s gotten rusty, or he’s dissociating so hard right now she’ll be lucky if he knows his own name.

“Not really,” he says, and fuck, he sounds so small and lost. She hates it, hates everything about this, but what the fuck can she do? She left, she wasn’t there for him, she wasn’t there when he forgot about her the first time. By the time they could talk again, actually talk with words back and forth and not scorched cryptically on a wall, he already remembered her and knew who she is. She doesn’t know how to deal with this Taako. She’s never had to.

Lup crouches down to his level and tilts her head to look up into his face. His eyes are squeezed shut and there are wet track lines running down his face and she has to take a deep breath to keep from crying too. “Hey,” she says, voice little more than a breath. “Can I come in?” She points at the blankets and pinches a loose end between two fingers.

Taako peels his eyes open and stares down at where she grabbed the blanket. It takes him a minute, but eventually he nods and takes a hand from his ears to open his cocoon up to her. She offers him a smile and takes over positioning herself under the blankets with him, wrapping them both up as tight as she can before taking his hands in hers.

“Don’t do that,” she gently tells him, inspecting the ear closest to her. She can see the individual marks of each of his fingers and it makes her sick. He never did this before, not when they were together. She brushes his ears with a featherlight touch and he flinches, hard, and tugs at his hands where they’re both held in one of hers. “Sorry, babe, I won’t do it again.” She has to hold her breath for several counts to calm down.

“My head hurts.” His voice is flat and dull hoarse.

She cards a hand through his hair. “Still?” He nods. She presses a kiss to his temple. “I could get you some pain killers?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t leave.” He shifts his hands out of her grip to hold her instead. “Stay here. Help me remember.” He finally, finally, looks away from their hands and into her face. Just like every other time he’s tried to look at her today, his eyes don’t focus on her face, irises bouncing around from place to place. “Your face is hard to look at,” he told her earlier. They two of them look so much alike—what did he see when he looked in the mirror?

Lup takes a deep breath, holds in, and lets it out slowly. “Okay,” she says, and presses close to him, pins him between her body and the wall. He pushes back, ever so slightly, and she knows that it means he’s trusting her. For right now, that’s all she can hope for.

She spends the next few hours telling her brother every single interesting thing about the two of them that she can remember, every important life event, both good and bad, and regaling him with tales of the adventures they’d all gotten up to during their one hundred years aboard the Starblaster.

She tactfully skips over the ten years that follow, and tells him instead of his recent accomplishments; the plans to renew his show, rebranded as “Sizzle it Up with Taako and Lup” (she’s excited to do this with him, this thing that he used to do and loved so much he wants to do it again), his magic school, his friendship with Ren and her subsequent adoption by the two of them.

Lup tells Taako about Angus McDonald, his beautiful magic boy, about how whip smart he is, how kind and compassionate he is, how he’s only twelve years old with his whole life ahead of him yet he’s already accomplished so much. She talks about him and she smiles and talks until he smiles too.

Lup tells Taako about Kravitz and their meeting and their first date that she almost ruined. Then she has to tell Taako about how she ruined it, about being a lich, about being trapped in an umbrella for a long, long time. She only meant to skim the top, to drop the facts and move on, but Taako squeezes her hand, tries to catch her eye, says, “Tell me about it,” and so she does.

She tells him about how, for a long time, she wasn’t aware of anything. How she slowly woke up, and regained sight and sound and her sense of self. She describes the black curtains, mumbles about her fear and anger and frustration, haltingly expresses how much she hated it there and the loss of her family and how lost she felt until he found her again. She tells him about how she was there for him, however she could be, in his adventures and how he eventually freed her.

Eventually, she runs out of things to say and falls silent. The closet makes the sudden absence of words feel heavy and muted and it makes her ears ring. Even since getting out of the staff, she’s hated total silence. Usually she’s fine—birds will chirp outside or the sound of Barry sleeping beside her keeps her calm—but this… This is different.

Her distress must’ve shown on her face because the next thing she knows, Taako is wrapping her in a hug and pressing his face close to hers, his breath brushing her ears. “It’s okay, Lulu. It’s going to be okay.”

“K-Koko?” She wants him to be better now. She wants him to remember, to be the brother she might not know anymore but she’s trying to relearn. “Are you—is it—do you remember me?”

He doesn’t answer for a minute and only the constant sweep of his exhales across her skin keep her grounded. “Not completely,” he says, breaking her heart just a little more, “but I’m getting there.”

“I know I’ve said this before but I need to say it again,” Lup says, cupping his face in her hands and looking into his eyes, one green and one silver and the opposite of hers. “Taako, you are my heart. No matter what happens, whether you remember me or not, you’re the one that makes my entire world keep turning.”

She can see the moment he starts crying, but she doesn’t say anything, just rubs them away with her thumbs. “You’re mine, too,” he tells her wrapping his fingers around her wrists. “When I didn’t know you, I thought I grew up alone. It was awful, Lulu. I don’t want to have grown up with you. It fucking sucked.”

Lup presses a kiss to his forehead and holds him there. “I know, babe, I know.” What kind of life would it be to live without your heart? She can’t even fathom the idea and yet her brother lived it.

Taako’s breath hitches and he forces himself to calm, taking deep breaths. “Lup, I hate this. I don’t want to forget about you again. I thought this was never going to happen again.” He tightens his grip. “It felt like I was trapped in my own fucking head. I didn’t know where I was or who you were or what was happening.” He’s trying not to cry again. She knows him well enough to know that he’s scared shitless, terrified of losing her and himself so suddenly and easily.

“If it does,” she says, hoping that it never will (and it does, eventually, but she’s better prepared in the future), “then I’ll be right there with you. We’re a part of each other. We’re a team. You don’t have to face this alone. Never again.”

Taako nods and sighs and closes his eyes. He leans into her and she can feel him shaking. “I love you, Lulu,” he whispers against her chest, listening to the beat of her heart.

“I love you, too.” Lup smiles and brushes her hands through his hair. “Now let’s go make some food. I’m starving.”

He pulls back and gives her a grin. Things might not be okay, not yet, but they will be. Eventually.

#taz #tazb #thezonecast #taz fic #taako #lup #twins #kiera writes fics #hurt/comfort #twin angst #taako dissociates #lup cries #fresh static snow

[stillpartofthisworld]

Synopsis: Angus learns first-hand the risks of his career and begins a new one. Taako isn’t happy.

(I deserve to burn for what I’ve written….)

Story under the cut! Note: Major character death

"You gonna need this gift wrapped?"

Taako snaps out of his daze and brings his attention to the small human girl in front of him. She was holding a book in her hands- the newest installation of the Caleb Cleveland: Kid Cop series. For a moment, Taako wonders why he's there. In a small, cozy bookshop, looking down at a girl who defo needs some face cream, those pimples are just-

"Sir? You alright?"

Oh .

The world finally sews itself back together, memories clicking into place as Taako waves his hand in the universal "no" gesture.

I'm not alright.

"Nah, no gift wrapping for me, hombre. How much is the kid book?"

She tells him and he pays, giving her a tip because that's what he felt like doing today, not because of the understanding look she gives him, or the casual slide of the tissue box that he clearly did not need (he wasn't about to ruin his eyeliner for anything). He gives her a few extra gold and even the name of a good cleanser (it'll do magic, honey, no pun intended-) because that's what he felt like doing as he exited the small shop and put on his sparkling frame sunglasses, even though the sky was overcast with clouds. It was a fine day, he told himself, and he was doing just fine as he headed over to Lucretia’s house.

---

Lucretia's modest cottage is sometimes referred to as a "safe house".

It's a quaint little place, all brick and class-the same things Lucretia herself was probably made out of. Most of the actual property is a green space, filled with forest and meadow and a small greenhouse for Merle's more...interesting specimens. It's also quite close to the Neverwinter Grand Library, Lucretia's only pride and joy on the prime material plane. She spent an unholy amount of time there, only coming home for a change of clothes and to chastise the guests who use her home as a sort of vacation house.

She spends a lot of time at home now.

Taako slips in through the kitchens back door with a key that hangs fashionably around the neck of his hat. It's one of the few copies Lucretia had made for the IPRE crew, along with a few others. Through the years, her home became sort of like the Starblaster all over again, filled with Lup's laughter, Davenport's postcards, Lucretia’s writing, Magnus's hugs, Merle's dances and Barry's stammer. It was what "home" meant to them now, even when they each had an apartment, a bungalow or a lab somewhere else on the continent. It was where they truly came together again and lived, making up for the lost time through closeness and touch and sight.

It was now also home to whispers and deep sighs, which Taako could hear all the way from the other side of the house.

"...worried about him, Magnus. He's been like this since..."

"...seems to be getting a bit better. He was able to get up yesterday, wasn't he?"

"The symptoms aren't...we can't wait for Lup and Barry forever. He can't wait-"

"He's a strong boy, 'Creesh. He already seems to be on the mend."

"So were you. All those years ago, so were you. "

The voice cracks and dissolves into muffled sobs. Taako hears Magnus's footsteps as he gets up and hugs Lucretia tight, as if he could shield her from the fate of the boy that lay in bed a floor above them.

The same boy Taako was going to see now.

The wooden steps didn't creak under his light weight as he sneaks past the pair and tiptoes up the cedar staircase. Even from this distance, he can hear the boy's labored breathing as he fights a losing battle for his life. Each breath, each step assails the wizard with memories, memories of how, exactly, this all came to pass.

The memory of Angus, dirty but whole, screeching and jumping into Taako's arms when they finally land back on the material plane in the Starblaster.

The memory of Angus's face, stricken but resigned, as the crew starts to decide how to restart and rebuild on this broken continent.

The memory of his cherubic, beaming grin as Magnus offers to take him in, with Taako appearing every so often for impromptu magic lessons.

The memory of a boy slowly but surely maturing into a young man, to the point where Taako isn't even sure exactly when Angus came to be his height, or when he was able to cast level eight spells like it was nothing. He, unlike most teenagers, never adopted a sullen or snappy temperament. Taako is almost sad that this never happened. Almost.

The memory of Angus, now seventeen years of age, taking on a case of a mysterious death by apparent poison. He enlists the help of Lup and Barry for this task, reportedly sending them samples of blood and plants every so often.

The memory of Magnus showing Taako the note Angus left him, detailing that he had found the murderer and would be capturing him during a train ride to Rockport. Back soon, he wrote.

The memory of Angus in a hospital, seizing and shivering violently as Merle tries to draw the poison out of his system. The culprit is gone in a wisp of ash and screams, and the authorities try to explain what had happened to a sobbing Magnus and pale Lucretia. The culprit had apparently found a new species of deadly mushroom spores. Barry and Taako both shoot a glance at Magnus.

The memory of Lup sitting Taako down in their room, telling him what they already both knew. The mushroom shares the exact same qualities as the one they had found on another plane a century before, the one Magnus had succumbed to all those lifetimes ago. Angus is not much younger than the IPRE Magnus. Lup reassures him that they are trying everything they can to create a cure. Taako smiles and high fives his sister, digging his feet into the floor in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

The memory of Magnus rushing in and finding Taako curled up in a ball on his chair, dry sobs escaping him as Magnus holds him tight, nearly crushing his ribs and making him forget whether or not he's breathing.

Is he breathing?

Taako takes a breath.

He's standing outside the kid's door now. The door is never shut, never locked in fear of missing something, of missing someone. The room is dark, save for a lamp beside the bed where Angus lay. He's sitting up now, reaching for his glasses in order to make out the small figure that stood at his door frame. They were no longer the wire-rimmed, owl-eyed glasses he had worn in his childhood-these looked professional, rectangular shaped with gold frames and pieces of jade at the temples. That was Taako's gift to him on his sixteenth birthday. How happy he had looked when he looked in the box. How vibrant. How youthful.

The vibrancy he had less than a year ago has been drained from McDonald's very being. The detective looks ghastly pale, with deep purple bags under his eyes even though he had just woken up from sleep. He moves slowly, painfully, deliberately, as if living needed to be choreographed to ensure minimal pain.

Taako moves closer as the boy's eyes focus on him, and his listless features carve themselves into a deliberate smile. "Hello, Sir," he rasps weakly, waving at him with long, skeletal fingers as he grasps for a drink with his other hand, missing the glass on his nightstand by a mile.

Taako waves his wand. The glass gently lowers itself into Angus's outstretched palm, the water from the pitcher floating up from its vessel to fill the glass. Angus smiles and takes a sip, clearing his throat as he settles himself into a cross-legged position. The light green shirt that used to be barely his size now hangs free from his body, his legs still covered by the heavy duvet. He seems to get chills often. It also seems to be summer.

Taako breathes.

"Hey there,kid," he says as he ruffles the kid's hair. "Guess what your dude bought you?" He puts the book behind his back and flashes him a smirk when he sees Angus's face scrunch into a small scowl at his words. "I'm not a kid, sir," he protests, which only makes Taako want to call him a kid even more. "And I already know you got me the next Caleb Cleveland novel. Your hand tapping gives it away.” Angus pauses, bringing up information catalogued in that huge brain of his. “Are you nervous, sir? You always hand tap things when you're nervous.”

Damn. The kid’s dying and can still read him like a book.

Hesnotdyinghesnotdyinghesjustsick-

“Why would I be nervous, bubbleh? I'm just giving you a hint.” He flashes him a sly smile, as if he had planned everything in advance while handing him the book. Angus, to his credit, just rolls his eyes and accepts the gift, his frail arms straining to carry the weight of two pounds of writing. A memory assails the elf-one of Angus challenging a slightly drunk Magnus to a pushup competition and carrying the weight of both Davenport and Merle on his back before collapsing in a heap of laughter and sweat, glasses pushed up to the top of his head. The boy had loved to show off his strength to the rest of them, especially when they treated him like the ten year old they had met so long ago on a train to Rockport. Humans-so quick to age. So quick to die.

But never quite this quick. Never quite so young.

Angus pushes his glasses up his nose and winces uncrossing his legs and letting himself sink farther back into the bed. The book had already been set on his lap, and judging by the dazed yet determined expression the human had, he was set on reading it all before he fell asleep again, something he was now prone to doing (Magnus used to doze off at the most inopportune times when they were on that planet. They thought he would be killed by his sleeping spells before the poison took him). He saw the boy’s hands dance along the cover of the book, excited to read the newest adventure of the character he had strived to be like for years. He also saw the pain and weariness that coursed through his body, as if living needed to be choreographed to minimize pain, and he had stumbled on a number he did not know.

Taako takes a breath.

“Wanna hear a bedtime story kid?”

He casts a feeble Mage Hand, picking the book up from the human’s lap and flipping it open to the first page. He looks up to see Angus staring at him, a myriad of emotions swirling beneath his dark pupils. He could see some happiness, yes; through the way his eyes crinkled at the idea of being read to at such an age, and the way the boy said “Thank you, sir!” as if he had just saved the kid's life.

But mostly, all he saw was weariness.

Angus was tired.

So, so tired.

The thought stays with him as he begins to read aloud, watching the child sink into his bed and slowly close his eyes. The only indication that he was awake was the regular expansion of his chest and the way his mouth quirked upward when Taako uses different voices for characters. After a while, Taako forgets to look at the boy every so often, losing himself between the pages of a book that both of them are too old to read. It's a welcome distraction, and Taako doesn't even notice when the boy's breaths start to even out and deepen.

He does notice his name being whispered from the back of the room.

“Taako?”

He turns around to see Kravitz.

The reaper is still in the smart suit of his profession, the only flashes of colour being in the blood red of his tie and the gold bands that adorned his hair (both which were obviously chosen by none other than Taako himself). He has a clipboard in hand, and he glances down at it briefly before looking back at the wizard. He looks absolutely stricken as he whispers Taako’s name again, causing the elf to put down the novel and tilt his hat backward to see him in full.

“‘'Suuuuup, babe,” he shout-whispers. “You finished work early today.”

Kravitz swallows, his Adams apple bobbing visibly in his throat. “N-not yet, exactly.” His voice still carries a Cockney accent, growing fainter by the day as Lup bullies him about it during work hours. He only uses it on solo missions now. Taako swings his feet and gets off the chair, gently setting the book on Angus's nightstand, not taking his eyes off Kravitz for a second. “Aww,” he cooes, striding over and straightening the reaper’s suit, smoothing the collar as he asks “Did you miss me? Your boss isn’t going to like it if you skimp on work just for lil’ol’me.”

Kravitz looks down at him and for the first time in his life, Taako can't read his facial expression. The reaper brings his hands up to his chest and curls them around the elf’s, sending shivers down his spine and for a second Taako nearly loses his balance, caught in the riptide of both fear and excitement as he watched Kravitz try to find the words to say in a moment he has no name for-

“Taako,” The words are slow, hesitant and Kravitz drops off for a bit before swallowing again and continuing. “Could you cast Blink?”

What?

Taako overrides his confusion with an arrogant eyebrow raise. “That's a spell slot, babe,” he says, splaying his fingers on Kravitz's chest because dammit, that kid was right, I really do tap my fingers - “Mind telling me what for?”

“You’ll know when you cast it.”

The tone is enough to get Taako untangled from his grasp and ready the spell, fear coming over him in a cascade as his eyes begin to close, memories nearly a century old dripping into his brain like ink of monsters-

3

Of eyes-

2

Of darkness-

1

Blink.

The world seems to bleed in front of Taako’s eyes, slowly yet instantly losing their color and tangibility around him. His body does a quick 360, an instinct instilled in him from years of scanning, spotting, scaring, running-

He does not find the Hunger (how could he, how could he).

He finds something much, much worse.

“Hello, Sir.”

Angus McDonald sits on the edge of his bed.

The boy detective looks better than he has in months. His sickly posture and demeanor are nonexistent, and he slides off the bed and walks toward Taako with the ease a young man should carry, as if living was a wild dance without choreography. His glasses are gone too, although he does paw at his shirt for a second, looking for them although he doesn’t really need them now, does he? He comes and stands in front of Taako, hands in his pockets and a sheepish grin on his face.

“Ango?” Taako looks at him, blinking. “You can’t be here.Did you use a spell slot in that condition, kid?”

Angus looks at his mentor, the sheepish smile watering down into something a bit sadder, a bit regretful. “I didn’t need to this time, Sir. Apparently, you can Blink into the ethereal plane...or you can just die.” His gaze shifts away from Taako, settling on a figure behind him. “Isn’t that right, Kravitz?”

Taako turns and sees his boyfriend in all his monochrome glory, nervously glancing between the two mortals. He looks a bit guilty, Taako realizes. Like he had known this was going to happen. Kravitz sees the realization dawning on his face and sighs, flipping pages on his clipboard. “Angus McDonald, seventeen years of age, dead by poison aftereffects.” He looks at Angus, who nods imperceptibly and Kravitz clears his throat to read the last line. “Slated to become a reaper under the guidance of Her Worship, the Raven Queen.”

Silence.

“Ok, what .”

Taako gestures at Angus. “This kid. Is seventeen. Seventeen! That isn't even half a century yet! And you're telling me he’s dead?”

“Sir, I did die of poison.”

“You were getting better, Ango. I heard Lucy talking about you downstairs.”

“She's certainly not going to be happy with a dead body in her house, is she?” Angus smirks a bit and Taako stares at him, exasperated.

“Is this a phase for you, kid?” Taako leans in and pokes Angus’s chest, his heart dropping as his finger actually meets flesh. He keeps going. “Are you finally going all emo on us? Death isn't a good thing, boy, take it from someone who’s been there, done that .”

“Hey,” Kravitz mutters, but Taako ignores him.

“Listen,” His voice drops, his voice drops in that way it only does when he's negotiating, when he's bargaining, when he's desperate. “The Raven Queen owes us, like, a bajillion favours. I'm sure we can get her to overlook a soul.”

“And go back into my body?” A flash of pain goes through Angus’s eyes, and for a second Taako regrets not thinking of all the suffering this child has gone through in his fragile human body. “No, thank you.”

“We still have Barry’s body-making thingamajig.” He could practically hear Barry now, chiding him and telling him to “stop referring to the blah-blah-blah as a thingamajig!, but the thought of his family still gives him a small dose of confidence. They had outwitted death over a hundred times; they could do it once more.

“That takes months to work.” Angus points out. (Kravitz mutters something about breaking the whole damn rulebook, but they both ignore him.) He's about to open his mouth again when Angus puts a hand on his shoulder. “Taako,” He says, and for some reason Angus suddenly looks much, much older than seventeen. “Thank you for thinking about me, I-I really appreciate it. But I've known that I've been dying for weeks now. I've settled my accounts and everything-my will is in my nightstand drawer, take that to Lucretia by the way-and I got Kravitz to secure me a job so, so I'm not really gone, sir. I'll just be a while.”

Taako feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

He's felt it before, when he saw Magnus taken over by darkness as the Starblaster flew away all those years ago. He felt it every single time his sister died, when she became something other with her lover to save them all. He felt it multiple times here, even when his mind was split and his memories fractured. He felt it every single damn time he looked at Lucretia's face.

“Don't patronize me, kid,” he mutters and knocks his hand off of his shoulder, tipping his hat down to shade his face. “Fine, go. Don't blame me if Lup makes you work your ass off.”

Angus is silent for a beat before breaking into a beaming grin and enveloping Taako in a bear hug. The elf goes stiff in his arms but allows this to happen, trying to remember the paper-and-blood smell the detective had when he was alive and ignoring Kravitz and his nervous habit of twirling his scythe.  “Don't worry about me, sir!” he says and Taako nearly says “Screw it,” and shoots Kravitz for even daring to take this one good thing away from him but he doesn't, he merely nods and says “Good luck with reaper training, homie,”

And just like that he's gone, walking side by side with Kravitz and the spell wears off, Taako appearing back onto the material plane 10 feet from where he cast, sinking back into the chair beside Angus’s dead body. It's only been minutes, primary flaccidity already setting in but other than that he looks as if he's just sleeping.

Taako stares at him for a long time.

He should probably move, go downstairs and tell the rest of them the news, give Lucretia his will and assure them that he was coming back to annoy them all as a reaper in probably, like, a week but he just sits there, stewing in the cool darkness of the room before a knock echoes and Lucretia comes in, balancing a tray of food in one hand.

“Angus?” she says and stops when she sees Taako. “Taako? What are you-” She reads his expression and her face goes slack, hands moving up to her mouth as the food tray hits the floor with a loud crash.

“No.” She says, and the sorrow in her voice is like a jolt of electricity, racing down his spine and restarting his heart and mind as they both process the still body lying on the bed.

“No, is he-?”  

“He's a reaper, now, Lucy, calm down.” He’s by her side in an instant, holding her by the elbows because she'll crumple to the ground if he doesn't, just as she did every year Magnus died on the Starblaster even though she knew he'd be back and dammit, he's feeling a bit shaky as well.

“Were you-” she swallows, drawing her eyes away from the bed and towards him, and in that moment he felt nothing but pity and compassion towards her, like all those times when they would drink tea and mourn together in those horrible cycles where both Magnus and Lup died, the vitality of the group drained with their nonexistence.

“Were you there for it?”

“The kid knew his time was coming, Lucretia. He even left a will for you, we talked in his ghostsona.” She chokes back a sob and he sighs, rubbing her back. “You did everything you could, Lucy,” he mutters, feeling the vibrations of the wood floor as Magnus rushes up the stairs, probably to investigate the loud crash. “You always do,” he says and suddenly Magnus is there, he's there and he's staring at Angus and it looks like he's reliving his own death all over again. He reaches for the two of them and they let him envelop them in his arms, all of them shaking as they take in and truly realize that death wasn't something they had the luxury of running from anymore.

-

He's back a week after his funeral, already able to hold a scythe casually in one hand and look through files with the other. He's back and he looks healthy and happy, talking about his new job looking through the special cases that hadn't been solved yet (“He's already Big Momma’s fave,” Lup teases and Angus blushes before clapping back, “Is it because I can actually do my job?”. The whole group explodes into laughter, even as Lup pulls up her sleeves and Barry has to physically hold her back from fighting him.).

He's back, and he's happy and Taako tells himself that's all that matters, but when the boy reaper puts his arms around him and he's cold, unbearably cold Taako nearly crumples in his arms and cries, wanting to tell him that he was sorry, he should have protected him somehow, he should have saved him somehow from death but he just smirks and calls him “boy icepack” before retiring into the kitchen and whipping up some mean ceviche.

Because sometimes, it's all you can do.

#the adventure zone #the adventure zone fanfic #taako and kravitz #taako and angus #angus mcdonald #taz fic #taz angst fic #taz angst #taz balance

[reivenesque]

Snapshots [Chriseva/Post 4.10/Future Fic]

Dedicated to all the Chriseva fans left hurt, angry and disappointed by the finale. I wrote this as something therapeutic for myself to try and get over my sadness even though I didn’t think I could ever bring myself to read or write another Chriseva fic again.  

May we all stick together and bring each other up in this time sadness. I love you guys. The Chriseva fans have been some of the nicest and best people I’ve met on this site.

I hope that this may ease maybe a little bit of the hurt we’re all feeling.

Snapshots

When Eva was fifteen, she thought she had everything figured out. If someone had asked her then where she saw herself in ten years, she’d probably said married to Jonas with two kids, a pair; one boy and one girl; the girl with a long mane of cascading black hair and the boy with a head of tight strawberry blond curls and the eyebrows to match. Or it could be the other way around, or neither, it didn’t really matter to her. But she genuinely saw her happily ever after with Jonas and if she pretended hard enough she’d be able to ignore the agonizing stab of guilt that came along with it.

When Eva was sixteen, she just wanted to make it through the school year without too much trouble and she wanted Jonas to love her the way she loved him and she kept hoping that he wouldn’t keep putting her in the corner with the rest of the things he constantly took for granted. At least that’s what Eva felt on the inside, on the outside she was living her happily ever after with Jonas. Right?

When Eva was seventeen, she just wanted to party and she wanted to fuck, all the time and everyone. She partied with Chris most of the time and fucked him even more frequently than that. Chris was easy; he didn’t expect anything more, just like she wasn’t willing to give anything more. He always came prepared with his Cheshire cat grin and his devil-may-care attitude and he was hot as shit and fucked just as well. He was what Eva needed in the moment. But just that moment. Right?

When Eva was eighteen, everything suddenly turned out too complicated. Chris wanted something more, more than she was willing to give, and Eva fell back into old habits, doing the same thing she always did when things got too hard: she ran. This time the path led her to Jonas’s door and his bed. But this was what she really wanted, right? Getting back on the right path, the path that included Jonas and their two kids and the white picket fence on their lawn and the big blue house that sat at the edge of the cobblestone path. Chris said he loved her and that he was ready to settle down with her even though she wasn’t, and as it turned out, Chris wasn’t ready either.

They came together but they left separately, but that was okay.

When Eva was nineteen she realized that Jonas would never really change; not for her, not for anyone. She’d fallen back into bad habits and lost the voice she’d finally acquired after so long. Once again her opinions always came in second; her needs were always put last and her feelings were always made to be a joke. One day, Eva just picked up her strewn clothes from off the floor and left, and she never looked back.

When Eva was twenty she put herself first for the first time in her life. She finally put men to the side and hooked up only on the weekends when she’d meet up with the girls for a night out. She went back to school and studied to be a teacher; perhaps one day she would be able to help a kid avoid making the same mistakes she had in her youth. She still partied hard on the weekends with her crew. They’d laughed when she used that term for the first time, but Eva thought it was appropriate. The little voice in the back of her head laughed at the irony of everything, but for some reason the laughter sounded too familiar, but it didn’t belong to her.

Every night though, she’d go home alone, but that was okay.

When Eva was twenty one, she met Chris by chance at the club during the weekend she was out. He was DJ-ing at the club that night and meeting him had been purely by chance, or maybe it had been fate instead. She went back home with him that night and he left early in the morning after fixing her breakfast. He had another gig that night in a club in a different city. They promised to keep in touch.

They didn’t, but that was okay.

When Eva was twenty-two, Vilde announced that she and Magnus had gotten engaged. Everyone thought it was too soon, but no one said anything, not even Sana. Magnus made Vilde happy and it was obvious and that was the only thing that mattered. She asked them to be her bridesmaids at her wedding and all of them were too happy to oblige. That night they went out and got shit faced drunk. Eva had sex with the bartender in the backroom of the club, but she left alone.

When Eva was twenty-three, Vilde and Magnus married. She, Sana and Noora were the bridesmaids and Chris was the maid of honour. Vilde looked absolutely stunning in her white dress and Magnus looked smart and sharp in his tailored suit. Eva didn’t think she’d ever seen Vilde that genuinely happy in her life. Perhaps it was only in part because of the wedding, the other part was probably because her mom was there, present and sober and walked her proudly down the aisle.

When Eva was twenty-four, she finished her studies and moved out of her mom’s house into her own apartment. She found employment in the elementary school just down the street from her new place and it was perfect. Everything was perfect. The day she graduated, her mom and her friends all managed to make it to the ceremony to watch her receive her degree. It was the proudest moment of her life. She went out partying that night with her girls at the club and the DJ playing the music winked at her from across the room. She was too drunk on alcohol and giddiness to really pay attention to the person until she was locking lips with him in the dark corner of the club while the music was blaring in the background.

Chris went home with her that night and they stayed in the whole weekend fucking.

When Eva was twenty-five, she’d spend the weekdays teaching and molding the minds of the younger generation of children and the weekend partying hard before going home with Chris at the end of the day. Chris had found a permanent position as a DJ at one of the local clubs and had stopped moving around so much. He had his own apartment not too far from where Eva was living, and on the weekends, after a night of partying and drinking, they’d find themselves stumbling home, either Eva’s place or Chris’s, and would spend the remaining time snuggling in bed and kissing or having sex. It was usually the latter.

Eva didn’t expect it to be anything more, but that was okay.

When Eva was twenty-six, Noora and William finally tied the knot. She was Noora’s maid of honor and Chris was William’s. Vilde was pregnant with her first child by that point and Sana and Chris were both looking very cozy with their respective dates on that day. She and Chris were already undressing each other before they could even make it to the bedroom that night after the reception was over. That was also the first time Chris had brought that particular subject up.

Marriage? Eva had a vague recollection of wanting that so badly at one point in her life, but through the years somehow it had just become rather inconsequential. She said as much, and Chris had looked thoughtful but he didn’t say a word.

Eva suddenly realized that it was exactly one year and eleven months to the day that she and Chris had made this rendezvous a regular thing.

When Eva was twenty-seven, Sana and Yousef married. It was a beautiful Muslim wedding which started with a ceremony in the mosque and then went onto the most extravagant wedding she’d ever seen in her life. It was one of the most breathtaking celebrations she’d ever seen. She went with Chris, but shot down all and every insinuation her friends were making about them together.

They were just fuck buddies; that was more than enough. Right?

When Eva was twenty-eight, Even and Isak got married. It was a small ceremony attended by only their closest friends and family. Even’s mom cried. It wasn’t funny, but it was kind of funny that she was the only one who cried harder than Elias. Everyone had such a proud look on their faces that day but no one glowed brighter than Even and Isak. Eva actually teared up, and a glance out into the crowd showed her that she wasn’t the only one. Chris reached over to dry the tear off her face with the back of his finger and all of a sudden it was like Eva finally saw him for the first time.

When Eva was twenty-nine, girl Chris broke the news that she’d met a guy while on holiday and they’d had a drunken night out and gotten hitched at a pop up church down the street from a stripper bar. It wasn’t a funny situation at all, everyone was rather gob smacked until she introduced them to her new husband.

It was Mahdi. They spent their honeymoon the next morning at the waffle house two shops down from the hotel they were staying.

She and Chris had been waking up in the same bed together for the better part of five years, two months and eleven days. It wasn’t as smooth a road as it sounded. They weren’t together, not officially anyway, even though he came to all her school functions and friendly gatherings, she’d invited him over to have dinner with her mom more often than not. He’d invite her to his special gigs and left VIP passes for her and her friends at the door and they spend the whole night making eye-sex with each other from across the dance floor.

But they weren’t together-together, and that was okay. It was a ridiculous notion anyway, her and Chris. Penetrator Chris settling down with her of all people. Or rather Penetrator Chris actually settling down at all. Or her, for that matter. Her dreams of a marriage and two point five kids with a nice blue house and a white picket fence was something fifteen year old Eva yearned for, but older and wiser twenty-nine year old Eva knew better about. Life didn’t turn out like you imagined when you were a kid. The guy you thought you’d end up with would turn out to be a serial cheater. Every other guy you meet would be nothing more than a fifteen minute hook up in a dark corner. You worked; you went to sleep; woke up and continued on the cycle over and over again.

That was the way life was, but that was okay.

But then for the first time, Eva really started looking. She looked at Chris properly for the first time in nearly thirteen years, since that very first encounter in the club when she mistook him for the wrong Chris. Then looking at his face when they were lying side by side on her bed, just before her mom made her unceremonious entrance. Then during all the sporadic encounters they’d have in the years that followed. Even though everything changed in the years that passed, one thing remained a constant in her life:

Chris.

She looked at his face properly for the first time, and he was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen, inside and out.

When Eva turned thirty; the big three-o, it was a monumental occasion. Everyone thought so anyway, she just wanted to curl up in bed with a giant tub of ice cream, a big bag of nachos and marathon the saddest Hallmarks movies she could find. Noora was pregnant with her and William’s first child, Sana just had her and Yousef’s first boy (the start of their football team, she’d said) and Vilde had just given birth to her second daughter, much to Magnus’s excitement—being a father agreed with Magnus, Eva thought. Chris was still living off the bliss of her impromptu wedding and brushing off all of Vilde’s attempts to get her to have a ‘real wedding’, as she’d put it.

They wanted to celebrate; Eva just wanted to curl into a ball and sulk while binge watching TV shows like a real adult, but they weren’t having any of it.

Everyone was there at the party thrown at the hotel owned by Julian Dahl. It was a celebration much bigger than Eva was truly comfortable with but she powered through it with a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye. Chris was by her side through the whole thing; holding her hand and laughing in her stead at all the terrible jokes being flung her way. She watched him while he laughed, and listened to the ringing sound of his laughter and the way it put her mind at ease. In that moment, there was no one else in the room besides her and Chris and she’s looking at him and she’s seeing him and all of a sudden she realized that maybe this wasn’t nothing. Maybe this was actually something; something important and something beautiful and something she never before realized she needed in her life.

It was a beautiful realization.

Chris was beautiful.

Eva was thirty years, four months and three days old when she came to the realization that she loved him.

It took her too long to realize that but she knew what Chris would say if she told him that.

“That’s okay.”

She didn’t say those words to him that night.

Instead, one night, when he had the day off; she came home from work with a bouquet of flowers, the same flowers he’d come to her door with all those years ago when he was still a fuckboy and she was still blinded by her fear. She didn’t just slide the key into the lock, it didn’t matter whose door it was, they had keys for each other’s apartment anyway, and instead she knocked.

She was met by his confused face when he appeared to open the door, before it quickly morphed into one of humour and he said with a grin, “Lost your keys?”

“No,” she’d said simply, an easy grin on her face mirroring his. “I just wanted to do something special tonight.”

“Is there a special occasion I’m not aware of?” he asked, moving to lean one shoulder against the doorframe, eyeing her hungrily.

“Yes and no,” she said. “Yes there is a special occasion, and no you’re just not aware of it yet.”

“Well, I’m kind of turned on right now,” he said.

Eva didn’t answer, she just pulled the bouquet of flowers from behind her back and presented it to him; watching a myriad of emotions play on his face before settling on the expression he’d started with: confusion. He reached for it almost hesitantly, looking between Eva and the flowers in his hand and back to Eva, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

Before he could verbalize the question though, Eva had her own question that she wanted to ask him. So without letting him get a word in, she reached into her pocket of her coat, grabbing at the velvet box resting snugly at the bottom near the lining and without a word, she slowly lowered herself onto one knee, opening the velvet box and revealing a sparkling silver ring nestled inside.

“Christoffer Schistad,” she started swallowing the lump in her throat and watching his eyes widen, her heart thundering inside her chest. “Infamous cheating fuckboy and the best person I have ever met in my life. These past few years haven’t been the easiest but you’ve always been there for me, as you’d been there for me many times in the past since I was sixteen years old. We’ve grown together, gone through shit together and matured together and somewhere along the way, I’ve come to realize that I can’t imagine living my life without you in it and by my side,” she said. “I love you,” she added after a beat, feeling the warm tears start pooling in the corner of her eyes before she could even finish. “Will you marry me?”

Chris’s mouth opened and closed like a guppy on dry land and Eva tried not to laugh, mainly because it might have caused her to burst into tears instead. But the corner of his lips soon curled up into a small smile and his eyes were warm and Eva felt the same warmth seep into her own soul.

He kneeled down without a word, right in front of her, reaching up to grasp her hands still holding the ring box to him with both his own and he held them there in front of him like they were the most precious things he’d ever touched.

“Eva Kviig Mohn,” he said when he met her gaze. “The biggest dick tease in Oslo,” he added. “I would be honoured to marry you.”

And they hugged, and Eva was crying and she could feel the warm droplets of Chris’s tears splash down onto her shoulder.

“I love you, Chris” she said.

“I love too, Eva,” he replied.

It was short and simple and they were still kneeling out in the cold air but that was okay. For the first time in her life, Eva thought that everything truly was okay.

Eva turns thirty-one as Mrs. Chris Schistad, or does he turn thirty-three as Mr. Eva Mohn?

That’s a story only time could tell.

The end

#chriseva #chris schistad #eva kviig mohn #skam #mohnstad #all the other characters and pairings are mentioned through out #everyone gets their happily ever after #except maybe #you know who... #he can choke #noohelm #evak #vilde x magnus #vildus? #reiven skam fics #fic: snapshots #fics: snapshots

[hulklinging]

second chance at saving you

Sometimes, life lets you reroll.

(Everyone wanted a weird taz zombie au with like… Liches, right? That’s what people wanted?)

Julia/Magnus-centric. Some gore, ultimately hopeful.

It’s not a surprise that she’s here, at the end.

‘Here’ is the only word he can really use to describe it - he’s not sure where exactly he is, only that there’s woods in every direction, he’s turned around enough to have lost the highway, and between the trees moves a hoard. It’s got to be thirty of them at least, and they’re slow but relentless, and even his strength has limits.

He’s taken out ten already, but it’s too many and there’s nowhere to run. When he feels something grab at the back of his neck, all he can feel is a quiet acceptance, and underneath that relief. Julia had asked him to fight, to not give up, to do what he could. And he had. The truck he had been travelling in had probably already made it to the city by now, where the rest of his group could find somewhere to hole up for a while. He hoped they didn’t wait for him long. Taako would understand (Taako knows what losing people looks like, in the shambles of this world). He’d make sure they didn’t stay for long, waiting for someone who was never going to show.

And that was familiar, and that was fine. Hurley and Sloane, lost in another hoard, their car disappearing and never returning. Angus’s grandfather, who left to collect food and never returned. Lup. They would wait, no longer than 24 hours, because that was the rule. And then they would mourn and move on.

He’s glad it worked, jumping off the bed of the truck, making every one of the zombies attempting to board turn and follow him instead. It was stupid, they all made sure to shout that at him as he did it, but the rest of them were safe. That’s what mattered.

The hand on his shoulder tightens, and he closes his eyes.

It’s no surprise, that his wife is here with him. What is a surprise is how he feels lips tickle his ear, hears a voice he hasn’t heard in almost a year whisper “Always too busy being a hero to save yourself, you big dummy.”

He gasps her name, eyes flying open. He hasn’t let himself say her name out loud, not since he said goodbye over her and her father’s makeshift graves. Even the zombies around him seem to have frozen, giving him time to turn around and stare.

She is unmistakably dead. The bite on her shoulder is still there, although it’s more scar than open wound, now. One of her eyes sits strange in its socket, and looking at it Magnus can remember exactly how it felt, to drive the thin blade of his grandfather’s knife through it and into her brain. There’s a ringing in his head, and his limbs don’t feel attached to him anymore. The injured eye is almost entirely red, hardly any iris left. Like any of the zombies he’s seen. But her other eye is still a warm, clear brown, and even though her smile is lopsided now, she’s still the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

Shortly after the dead started to rise, almost one year ago, Magnus had come home to a house overrun. He’d fought his way through to discover an already-dead father-in-law, and his wife bleeding out on the floor of their bedroom.

She’s begged him to kill her, an apology in her eyes. She didn’t ever want to turn, to have the chance to hurt someone else. She was his world, had been his world since the moment they met. He hadn’t wanted to do it. But he knew, if their positions had been reversed, he would ask for the same.

Magnus Burnsides’ whole world had died in his arms, that day. And now she was here, in front of him, still dead but smiling.

“Magnus,” she says, and he hears it.

“Jules,” he breathes, and thinks that perhaps this is death.

Her eyes flicker over his shoulder, and her grin slips ever so slightly.

“I’ll explain in a moment,” she says, and in the hand not on his shoulder is a large hammer. It’s her favourite one. He had buried her with it. She steps around him and brings it down on the nearest zombie’s head.

Julia had always been strong. She did metalwork, proper smithing. It was how they had met, Magnus hired on as a stuntman and this mountain of a girl stepping up and handing him the sword for the shot. His tongue had felt like lead in his mouth, and when she asked, her voice teasing, if he was a fighter, he had barely managed to get out “a carpenter, actually.”

Julia had always been strong. But never like this.

She is swatting these zombies away, wielding the hammer like it weighs nothing. Heads caving in like eggshells, and when she is finish she turns back to him with a challenge in her eye, like those mornings when they would work out together and then end with arm wrestling. She doesn’t even seem winded.

“Julia,” he says, once more. He remembers Taako laughing off a superstition about magic and threes, but it feels powerful just the same.

She nods, and he’s moving before he has time to think. No more doubts, no wondering as to how this is possible. Magnus rushes in to her arms, picks her up and spins her like they used to do any time one of them was away for longer than a night. She still feels just the same, in his arms. Her skin is colder and when he brushes his fingers over her wrist there’s no heartbeat, but she still fits just the same.

He has so many questions, but they can wait. He holds her in his arms and repeats “I love you, Jules” over and over again until his ears ring with it. They’re both crying, although Julia is managing to do so without tears.

He doesn’t ask, but she tells him anyway, as she holds his hand tight and leads him from the woods.

“There’s ways to come back, if you have the right tools,” she says. “If there’s enough of them left. And if someone alive still remembers you.”

He’d made a habit, over the year since he’d lost her, to devote some time each night to her. He’s never been more thankful of that.

“I never forgot you.”

There’s something almost sad, in her eyes. Just for a moment.

“I know,” she says, and leans over to kiss his cheek. Her lips are cold.

“I saw you jump out off your truck,” she says, as they make it back to the highway. “We were quite a ways behind, but I did see you.” The way she says it makes it sound like they’ll be having a conversation about it later.

“If you knew them.” For all that they often argued, and got on each other’s nerves, they’d grown as tight as any family. Taako, who liked to insist he didn’t care about anything even as he patiently taught Angus how to start a fire. Merle, who played up the weird old man role even as her carefully stitched up every cut, who talked about God like he was an old friend, who could look at the world and still believe. Angus, who carried around a book about a kid cop around like it was a manual, who grew up faster than any kid should have to but still always made sure to mind his Ps and Qs. And then the more recent additions too, Killian and Carey, each strong but stronger together, Carey still so full of playfulness even now, Killian the bravest person he knew. They’d been looking for their friend when they joined them, and they never did find her but no one’s brought up them splitting off to keep looking in months.

“If you knew them,” he repeats. “You’d know it was worth it.”

And Julia nods, and points at a black jeep, someone sitting at the wheel.

“I can understand that.”

The person in the front seat waves out the window, and Julia waves back.

“Kravitz will make sure we catch up to your friends,” she says, and quickly steps in front of him so she can beat him to the door, opening it and gesturing him inside with a little flourish. It’s something they used to do, opening doors and pulling out chairs, some strange mix of chivalry and competition. One of their ways of saying ‘we’re a team, we’re a matched set, we’re in love.’

It’s so familiar, in this unfamiliar world. He looks at her and thinks that for so long he’s been barely treading water, and now he’s finally, finally back on solid ground. Solid ground means he can make a stand here. Solid ground means somewhere he can build.

His dead wife holds the car door open for him, and he kisses her hand as he passes her. Taako would question it, Merle would thank his God. But Magnus… Magnus just holds Julia’s hand, something he never thought he would get to do again. And he doesn’t question and he doesn’t thank. He lets himself exist here, in this moment. No past, no future. He holds his wife’s hands and pulls her in for a kiss and he lets himself believe in this world again, this world and the people in it. He lets his ribcage swell with it, until every beat of his heart strums with purpose.

Magnus is a protector, see. And if he gets a second chance to do right by Julia, by his wife… Well then. Maybe they can earn a second chance for this world, too.

#julia burnsides #magnus burnsides #taz #the adventure zone #taz fanfic #ziggy writes fanfiction #zombies #I love Julia okay gimme more fics with her doing okay

[srry-not-srry]

another skam fic yikes

i wrote a shameless au! for skam because i literally couldn’t stop myself. going to post on Ao3 soon, but had to unleash my ~shame~ on the tumblr world first. i hate me more than you hate me. 

Shameless Au!Skam 

Isak - 23

Noora -18

Jonas - 16

Eva - 11

Lea & Liam (twins) - 5

Chris Schistad is the neighborhood drug dealer shamelessly into Isak

William is his best friend and shamelessly into Noora

both are same age as Isak were in his class and were friendly but not friends all from same neighborhood

Isak was hot to trot in high school had big dreams to go to acting school in NYC but obvi has to take care of his fam

Sana & Eskild + Vilde are V and Kev but they aren’t in love or married they are just roommates and neighbors

Even has bored rich Steve/Jimmy who falls shamelessly in love with Isak

basically everyone is in love with Isak

Title: Tell Me You Love Me, Make It Hurt

“Isaaak, he’s back!” Magnus sings, voice bright and sunny and loud in Isak’s ear suddenly.

“Jesus fuck!” Isak hisses as the bacon grease spills over the side of the pan and singes his fingers. He drops it immediately on the hot stove, and brings his fingers to his mouth. Magnus laughs, hard and loud, from where he’s appeared, leaning against the wall. “Fuck you,” Isak says, rushing to run his hands under the cool water from the sink.

“Think he’ll ask you out again?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “I hope not.” 

“Whatever! If I had a fancy fucker slipping me hunnies every time I took his order I’d find out what else he wants.”

“Yeah?” Isak teases. “You’d go out with a dude just for some cash?”

“Gotta feed the children somehow.” Magnus grins.

Isak rolls his eyes again but he turns to watch the tall, lean man slink into the diner. He looks every inch like he doesn’t belong there. As if he’s gotten lost on the wrong side of town and has randomly decided to step in some shitty diner for a bite to eat. It’s been three weeks, and Even has come in religiously every Tuesday and Friday for bitter coffee, undercooked steak, and a slice of lemon meringue pie. Isak runs damp hands through his hair in an attempt to contain his wiry curls. He straightens his apron and grabs a notepad off the stack behind the counter before heading over.

“Go get em tiger,” Magnus whispers.

“Fuck you,” Isak replies.

Even doesn’t look up from examining the menu as Isak approaches, pulling the pen from where it’s been tucked behind his ear.

“Gonna try something new this week?” Isak asks. Even draws his eyes up and looks the boy up and down, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes dance, almost as if Even is flirting with Isak, as if he finds him attractive. Isak curses himself in his head because he knows he isn’t. How could he be? Isak knows how he looks: greasy apron wrapped around his waist, stained with food spills and old, hair probably wild and gross from his eight hour shift with another two still on the clock. His jeans are hand-me-downs or something, he doesn’t remember, but he knows he paid less than ten dollars for them. His shoes worn sneakers, holes beginning to form where the cloth meets the rubber. Even doesn’t belong here, nor should he be looking at Isak like that: hands twitching and eyes hinting at thoughts of lust. Isak can see his car parked haphazardly on the curb through the window, a shiny black Porsche that reeks of money. He’s frankly surprised the thing hasn’t been stolen. Or that Even hasn’t been mugged at least. He isn’t subtle with his clearly designer jeans, flashy gold watch, and expensive sunglasses. Even looks like he belongs shirtless on some yacht in the Caribbean. Not here, flirting with Isak on the wrong side of Chicago.

“Hmm, don’t know if I’m feeling that adventurous just yet.”

“So the usual?” Isak asks, pen poised to write on his small notepad even though he already has Even’s order memorized.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Even asks coyly, flitting his eyes over Isak’s body. Honestly, Isak inwardly groans because Even’s voice can make anything sound sexy.

“The chocolate cake is my favorite.”

“So, I’ll have the usual except with the cake this time.” Even winks. Isak tries to control the nervousness pooling in his stomach and hopes he isn’t blushing. Though he knows that his cheeks and the tips of his ears are probably on fire. Isak turns to rush into the kitchen to avoid that heavy stare and hopefully get this stupid crush under control. “Isak?” Even calls to his quickly retreating figure.

“Yeah?”

“You look cute today.” Oh god.

——

Magnus won’t quit bugging him and it’s honestly starting to irritate Isak beyond words. He’s tempted to tell Madhi, who’s the main diner coo even though they all pitch in at times, about Magnus’ failed hookup attempt this past weekend just to throw him off his back. Though he swore would never mention cat-tongue girl again to anyone.

“Dude, honestly he so wants you. You need to say yes.”

“God, this again? He only asked that one time.”

“You rejected him so hardcore. I was sure he’d be scarred for life! He’s probably still working up the courage. No wonder he comes back every week!”

“Shut up,” Isak hisses. “Or I’ll tell every one of your tables what you say about them behind their back.”

Magnus goes white. “You wouldn’t.”

“I fucking would!”

“God, would you two quit,” Madhi groans at them. “You’re stinking up my kitchen with your annoying commentary. Magnus, leave Isak alone. He’s had enough on his plate this week. Isak, that Even dude stares at you with bedroom eyes and has watched your ass every time you walk through the room. Stop pretending like you don’t know.” He huffs, turning back to rotating the steaks on the grill. Isak and Magnus shut up.

Or rather, they move to the prep room. Isak attempting to finish some of his chore list and stock inventory so he’s not stuck here past shift end. He has to pick the kids up from school today because Noora has graduation practice, and Jonas has a soccer match. God, he can’t believe the year is almost over. Maybe when summer comes he’ll finally catch a break or a breath. Noora has been hinting to him about getting a GDE. Isak swears he finds one of those goddamn posters for the classes lying somewhere around the house at least once a day. He doesn’t want to tell her that he’s been saving up money on the side for it, because he knows she’ll get excited and it probably won’t work out. Jonas has needed to get his wisdom teeth out for months and the twins are growing out of their clothes faster than he can buy them from the second-hand shop on the corner. He doesn’t have the time or the money to enroll to get some dumb degree. But he can’t help the thrill of want that spikes through his body every time he doesn’t catch himself in time and he’s daydreaming of the future. Always the same: New York City, his siblings comfortable and happy and clean with endless food in their bellies, and him on stage, acting his fucking heart out. He always shakes himself before it can go further that that, no use dreaming of things that will never happen.

“You okay dude?” Magnus asks cautiously. “Didn’t know you had shit going on this week.”

Isak sighs, and rubs his forehead. He can feel the beginnings of a killer headache around the edges of his temples. “Yeah. I just, Liam’s been sick this week and my fucking dad showed up randomly on Tuesday night and crashed on the couch. Threw up all over the fucking rug. Jonas cleaned it up. But the kids were so happy to see him, so I couldn’t bring myself to yell at him or kick him out.”

“Shit. He still there?”

“Nah, Noora screamed at him soon as I took the kids to school and threw him out.”

“Sorry bro.”

“It’s fine. Just another typical week in the Valtersen show.”

Magnus bit out a laugh, though Isak could tell he was trying to lighten the mood for his sake. He’s not complaining, he’s not. It’s just sometimes he wishes his head wouldn’t ache so much or his feet or his back from these ten-hour shifts and he wishes he didn’t have to constantly worry about how they would find the money to pay for the washing machine that will inevitably fail them any day now. Magnus gets it though. He just bailed his brother out of jail last week for those cocaine charges. Fuck, he’s still doing community service hours the judge gave him instead of juvie for that stunt with the Lexus he pulled last year. They all get it, or they wouldn’t work here. Or live in dingy houses in some grungy neighborhood on the east side of the train tracks. Isak’s life isn’t any harder than the rest of theirs. So maybe he gets why Magnus is pushing the Even thing. Everybody has found some rich fucker to take them on a doubt once in their lives. It’s usually some cheap flirting, cheesy hookup lines, a nice dinner and then a long fuck, and then their fancy car peals out of the neighborhood so fast you’d think they were running from the cops. Point is, the bored rich dudes usually don’t stick around except for one small peak into the hard-knock life to ease their curiosity. Isak has tried being rude to Even. Indicating he’s not interested. Yet here he is every fucking Tuesday and Friday ordering his medium-rare steak and shitty coffee. Magnus thinks it’s more. Some Sugar Daddy bullshit scenario. Isak doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He wishes Magnus would give it up. He’s not going to be somebody’s fucking charity case.

Magnus cuts him another sly look. “You should give him your number.”

“Ugh.” Isak groans and goes to refill everyone’s water glass, even the customers that aren’t in his section.

((This is just a snippet of the first part)) 

#skam #isak valtersen #even bech næsheim #im sorry #fanfic #evak #shameless au #au #skam fic #fic

[nikolija-tesla]

In which Nikolija realizes she might love women, or at least love Helen:

Helen was fiddling with the ring on her finger. It was a toss-up as to who noticed it first. Nigel was staring with a surprised, slightly concerned expression, and Nikolija was following his gaze to the unassuming gemstone on Helen’s hand, when James spoke.

“So, who's the lucky man? Did John finally propose like he's been wanting to for months now?”

“James! That was told to you in confidence!” John set down the preparation he was currently examining. “What if it hadn't been me?”

“Please. Unless our Helen has a beau on the side — who would be feeling very neglected, considering the amount of time she spends with us, not to mention that we'd likely have at least heard of his existence by now — you were the only possibility.”

Nikolija sucked in a breath, her gaze leaping back to Helen working across the table from her. “You accepted him?” softly, she asked.

“Of course,” Helen said, so matter-of-fact, but the was a softness in her tone and a brilliant light in her smile, and somewhere in Nikolija’s chest was sweetly sore in the face of it.

She nodded. “I wish you both every happiness,” and she meant it, she did. She wanted Helen to be happy, and Helen was smiling a little more often today, small, candid grins Nikolija didn't even think Helen was aware of. It was a lovely sight, and Nikolija averted her eyes and went back to her work, carefully adjusting the metal coils.

The men were still bickering good-naturedly. “That's still no excuse for just blurting out someone's secret, James.”

“Very well, very well, I apologize. Now, tell us, when did this happen?”

“That was hardly very sincere.”

“‘E’s just jealous.” Nigel clapped John's shoulder. “We all know none of the rest of us ever stood a chance. Congratulations, mate.”

“I'm hardly jealous! I’m quite happy, for both of you. It was high time, if you ask me.” James did sound entirely sincere now, and held out his hand. “Congratulations.”

John shook it, smiling. “Last night. We took a ride through the city in the evening. We don't get much time alone, otherwise, not with you lads and the Serbian around.” It was said fondly, for the most part.

“And her father?” Nigel crossed his arms. “Have you smoothed things over with him?” Dr. Gregory Magnus hadn't been in the least pleased that one of her patients was courting his daughter, and even less so that she had allowed it, and his and John's relationship hadn't improved at all since then.

“He doesn't know yet, but Helen has assured me she'll speak with him soon.”

Nigel made some wary, noncommital noise. “He won’t be pleased.”

“I am thirty-five years old and my own woman. My father has no say in whether or not or in whom I marry.” Helen raised her voice to be heard by the other three, though she didn't turn from her work. “Now, gentlemen, I believe we’re all here for a purpose…?”

They took the hint and dispersed, as it were, to their own portions of the experiment again, and James began only slightly reluctantly to work through the various chemical formulas aloud one more time. Helen shook her head, leaning forwards to speak to Nikolija, though her voice was easily heard by the rest of the room. “And men say women are the gossips…”

“Oi!” Nigel protested.

Helen shot him a cheeky grin, and then her gaze slid to John, and softened, and lingered for a brief moment, and Nikolija focused very intently on the apparatus on the table in front of her.

*****

“You didn’t say much, earlier.” Nigel glanced at her as they walked back to his and “Nikola’s” adjacent dormitory rooms. “You feeling all right?”

“I am fine.” The accent Nikolija hadn't quite yet eradicated became more pronounced at the at the end of the day, when she longed to curl her tongue around the smooth, comfortable angles of her native language.

Nigel’s gaze remained on her. “You sure? You didn’t even say anything about Helen and John’s engagement.”

It had continued to be brought up over the course of the evening, from when the wedding was planned for (“For heaven's sake, he only just proposed!” — “That doesn't mean we can't start thinking about it, darling. I for one confess myself quite eager to be married. This coming March, in six months, perhaps?” — “We'll see...”), to how appropriate the method and timing was (James had found it a bit lacking — a sentiment Nikolija shared but didn't voice — which of course had offended John again, and Nigel confessed to finding the quiet, no-fuss, everyday sort of affection the most profound), to how long it would be until they had their first child and what he or she would look like (something Helen adamantly refused to speculate about, shaking her head with her lips tightly pressed together, and admonishing the men to focus on their work when Nigel and James started ribbing John again).

“I wished her happiness. You know I am not so fond of John.” It had begun with the first tentative meeting of what would become the Five, when John had obviously not been expecting “Nikola,” and had subsequently demanded whether or not Helen “truly must take every little foundling and oddity under her wing...?” He respected Nikolija, now, for her intellectual abilities if nothing else, but there was still no love lost between them. Nigel had been on the butt-end of one or two of John’s more scathing comments as well, though he always gave as good as he got, and seemed to actively enjoy being underestimated.

“Well, he does make Helen happy…” Nigel lifted his shoulders.

“I know,” she replied, with a little too much force. He lingered outside his room, as she set her hand on the door to hers.

“I won’t be sleeping for a while yet. Care to join me for a drink or two? I just got my hands on a bottle of wine…” He grinned at her, and she tilted her head fondly.

“Just for me? I'm touched.”

He was wearing that concerned expression, the one where he thought there was something else to pry out of her, and though usually there was, tonight she wasn’t sure what for the life of her that might be. There was nothing untoward behind his offer, neither in appearance nor in spirit, and she wouldn't be going to bed for at least an hour or so, either.

“Bring the wine in ten minutes,” and she headed into her own room to change.

Men’s clothing in and of itself was comfortable, as were, but she was always relieved at the end of the day when she could unbind her chest, and peel off the itchy faux mustache, and untie the hair she hadn't quite been able to bear cutting, to comb her fingers through it.

Still in a shirt and trousers, but looking far more feminine now, she hid behind the door so as not to be seen from the hall as she let Nigel in, and locked the door behind him. He set the bottles — whiskey for himself and wine for her — as well as two small, chipped glasses down on her nightstand, beside the slightly precarious stack of books, and settled on on the edge of her bed, the only really comfortable place to sit in the small and fairly spartan room.

“You make a far handsomer woman than a man. Even if you’re not in a dress.” It was an offhanded, uninterested compliment, and he wasn’t looking at her as poured their drinks, only a little alcohol to begin with.

“Why would you be any judge of what a handsome man looks like?” She smirked as she sat down beside him, crossing her legs. “You are not one who is interested in them.”

“I do know what looks good, and what doesn’t. But you’ve got a point. I am a bit biased.” He took a drink almost immediately, pressing his lips together and wrinkling his brow in the way he did when he was thinking, or concentrating hard. “Wondered if I was, though, f’r a bit. If I was that sort.”

She turned her head sharply, arching her eyebrows. Usually they edged into the hard, deep, murky things a little less abruptly. “Why?”

“I’ve never been all that enamored of women, neither, ‘least not like the others seem to be.”

“I have not yet found any man particularly attractive. So?” Nikolija gently swirled the wine in her glass, inhaling the aroma, before taking a small sip. She held it on her tongue for a moment, then swallowed with a satisfied hum. “This is good. Where did you get it?”

“You’d ‘ave to ask Jonathon that.” She gave him a puzzled look. “Down the hall. Left his door unlocked the other day, and I just couldn’t resist. He had more than one of ‘em!” he protested when she side-eyed him with she-wasn’t-sure-what-emotions. “Besides, you’re drinkin’ it, now you’re an accomplice.”

Nikolija rolled her eyes at his suddenly cheeky grin, drained the last two swallows in her glass, and poured herself another.

“That’s the spirit.”

“That was an ambush. I take no responsibility.” She laid partially back on the plain, brown wool blanket, twisting onto her side and propping herself up on one elbow.

Nigel suddenly began twirling his glass in his hand. “I just wanted to say… I know about how you feel. About Helen. An’ I’m not judging you. Truth be told, I think James feels the same way about both of ‘em. Could turn into a right bloody mess. If it isn’t already.”

“How I feel about Helen?” She frowned, and arched her neck against the sudden tension in her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

A split second of hurt flashed across his face. “You don’t ‘ave to pretend, is what I‘m sayin’. If you want to talk about it. But if you don’t, that’s fine, too.” He drained his glass, set it down, and sprawled back, putting his hand behind his head and closing his eyes. “We’re makin’ good progress. At this rate, we might be able to actually inject the serum in a week or two.”

It was the other thing that had been on their minds lately — the Sanguine Experiment, as they called it. But for once, Nikolija wasn’t distracted by science. “What do you mean? I’m not pretending anything."

He opened one eye to peer up at her. “I said it was fine, if you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“And I have no clue what you’re thinking I might possibly want to talk about.” She glowered at him, and then he finally stared back at her properly, both eyebrows shooting up.

“Blimey. You really don’t.”

“Of course not. Now tell me what on earth you’ve been insinuating.” She took a sip of her wine, watching him intently.

“It’s just — these looks you give her, sometimes. Helen, I mean. And how you smile. Completely bloody smitten, like.” Nigel wore a wry, awkward half-smile himself, head turned towards her but his gaze fixed somewhere beyond her, to make this easier on both of them, she suspected, even if she wasn’t sure what this was. “You work with her any chance you get. Stay with her in the laboratory at all hours of the night. You’ve been with her to the theater, twice, when she wanted to see that one play again, and I know for a fact” — he extended his pointer finger towards her, to underline his point — “you hated it the first time around. I just, one day I just thought: if you were a man, I’d say you were in love with her.”

“And because I have been acting as a man, I have begun to think as one? Is this what you thought?” She felt vaguely offended, though she wasn’t sure at what. It didn’t seem such an illogical hypothesis — its lack of veracity aside.

“No, I just wondered why you’d have to be a man for me to think that in the first place. Since I’d wondered, myself, before. If I was attracted to my own sex.” He wasn’t looking at her, now, and Nikolija drained her glass and leaned to set it on top of the trunk at the foot of her bed.

“I’ve heard about… what some women get up to, with their women friends.” He suddenly took both his lips between his teeth. “Or — do you an’ her already have some sort of arrangement?”

What they get up to… It wasn’t like — well, maybe it was like she didn’t know, not well, anyway. It wasn’t exactly talked about, especially not among the young men, who were rarely privy to girls’ relationships with one another. “Good God, Nigel.” Nikolija glanced up at the ceiling. “Whatever you’re envisioning, I can assure you, me and Helen… nothing like that is going on. I’m not upset by her engagement, and I’m —” something curled tight in her throat, and she cleared it and swallowed, “I am fine.” But she had never liked seeing the evidence of Helen and John’s coupleness: the quiet murmurs, however rare those were; the way they always seemed to position themselves close to one another, at a table, or in a carriage, or anywhere; recently, the hand-holding; and now the ring.

He peered up at her, out of one eye again. “From that expression alone, I say that’s bunk. An’ you know it.” He closed his eyes and wriggled slightly, adjusting his position and wrinkling his clothes in the process.

Nikolija wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like seeing… their relationship.” She lifted one shoulder. “That is all. It is between them. A private thing.”

“Are you going to tell me it’s ‘improper’ next?” His tone was only gently mocking.

She nearly did, except that John and Helen really didn’t “carry on” very much at all — and as for “improper,” well, Nikolija was hardly one to talk. “I am only here for knowledge. I do not care about — that.”

He sat up, suddenly, to pour himself more whiskey, a particularly cheeky grin on his face, and Nikolija was immediately wary. “All right. I’ll tell you what. I still say you’re in love with Helen, but you tell me you’ve never thought about kissin’ her, and I’ll lay it to rest. Won’t speak of it again.”

She stilled, for a split second, not quite breathing, before firmly repressing the thought, not even fully realized. Looking away, she leaned over to pick up her own glass again, and held it out for him to pour, seeing as he was closer to the bottle. “I don’t need to tell you that. Of course I love Helen. She’s likely the best friend I have here — aside from you, and I knew her first.”

They both watched as the burgundy liquid filled the glass. “That’s not what I meant,” he said, “An’ you know it.”

She nodded for him to stop when it was about half full, and raised it to her lips, blinking. And suddenly it wouldn’t be kept at bay: Helen’s lips on hers, a stuttered inhale, blue-gray eyes ablaze with surprise and delight, tentative pressure, a quiet murmur of pleasure, then slipping her tongue between her lips and Helen…

“I'm her friend. That's all.” She said it a little too forcefully, practically glaring him in the eyes. “And no, I had not thought about kissing her before your suggestion.”

He stiffened, pressing both his lips between his teeth again. “All right.”

They both sipped in silence, for several moments. Nikolija cast her gaze about the room, skipping over the chipped washbasin, the small mirror, her shirts and coats and trousers hanging in the opened wardrobe, the one dress she still owned buried at the very back, the bare off-white walls, the wooden desk in front of the window strewn with papers and books, and saw nothing. Was she jealous of John? Of the fact that he enjoyed that sort of open affection with Helen?

“Have you got notes or somethin’ from the chemistry lecture, from Monday? From when I ‘ad that cough.” Nigel cleared his throat.

Nikolija gestured vaguely towards her desk. “I will find them and give them to you tomorrow.”

“‘Preciate it, ‘Lija.”

She nodded, absently. Fine. Yes. She’d like to kiss Helen. Just to satisfy her curiosity, that was all. And maybe she missed the days when it had been just the two of them, the Oxford oddities, before Nikolija had met Nigel and Helen had befriended James and before John had started finding more and more time, in between his own lectures on the finer points of the law, to sit in on their scientific study sessions. When she had Helen’s full attention and confidence — not that she didn’t still have it, she thought, but more often than not it was John to whom Helen went first when she wished to talk, now, or occasionally James.

“What was the point of this little exercise?” Nikolija suddenly turned to Nigel, with a soft anger in her grimace. “To torture me? I mean, whether I want to or not — if I wanted — I can’t —” She gestured, glass in her hand, vaguely.

By the way Nigel met her eyes and glanced down, she believed he understood her nonetheless. “I thought — just wanted to —” He shook his head, subdued, and dared to look at her again, his gaze a quiet challenge. “We’re in the business of looking for truth, not deluding ourselves.”

She let out a half-laugh, slightly bitter in her ears, and swallowed a gulp of her wine. “And what good will this particular truth do me?”

“None at all, I’m afraid.” Nigel tried an apologetic smile, and half-succeeded. “I do offer my condolences, a sympathetic ear, and wine.”

Nikolija tipped her glass back, draining it again, trying to wash away the urge to dwell on Helen, on the pleasure of her company, the brilliance of her smile, the spark in her eyes, what her lips might taste like... It likely wouldn’t do any good; Nikolija was a scientist, and once a fascination was kindled it didn’t just die, and this one was not entirely new, and far from weak. She was likely already well on her way to being tipsy in a half-hour and miserable in the morning, but she wasn’t feeling the effects yet, and she held the glass out for Nigel to pour her more. Buried beneath exasperation, a fond undertone crept back into her voice. “Just give me the bloody wine.”

#~story~ #~headcanon~ #~private headcanon in a solo verse~ #~verse: leaves of autumn~ #crossdressing content #asexuality content #homosexuality content #safe for work #wine content #coming out content #~time release (queue)~

[confused-stars]

Light of the Seven - Chapter Four: Hello again

Read on AO3

Sometimes Taako really wondered why people were still doing jackass crimes when there were seven (now eight) superheroes determined to protect the people of Neverwinter. 

He understood people doing petty crimes to survive, like him and Lup had done back when they were kids, but there were just some people that Taako didn’t get.

Like the crime ring they’d taken down a year ago, whose base they’d made their own.

Or the three masked people who were currently trying to rob an old man at knife point, yelling threats and insults.

Taako clicked his tongue. Well, it was something to do, at least. He dropped down off the roof, transmuting the trash container below him into a slide as he fell.

He landed on top of it and slid down the rest of the way, brushing himself off as he got to his feet. “You know, I hear there was a time where even robbers had some sort of integrity. This guy is what, 120? Seriously? That’s so shitty of you.” He grinned and shrugged. “Guess I’m gonna have to teach you a thing or two.”

The robbers seemed appropriately intimidated, at least. The Wizard did have a reputation of being much less lenient than some of the others (like the Bear or Red Robe), and that he often did things that were... a little over the top, like turning someone’s clothes into a weird costume, or trapping someone in a giant blob of jelly.

Taako mostly did it to lighten up his job a little. He liked being creative.

With a wave of his hand, he shooed the old man away. “Go get someone to take you to the nearest police station. Tell them there’s a present waiting back here.” When the police got here, Taako would already be long gone. And if the old man actually got the idea to call instead, Captian Bane, who oversaw this precinct, was an old friend of theirs, and he’d stall for a while.

After ten years of being active as superheroes in this city, they had a decent network of allies. Taako wondered if Reaper worked all alone. That seemed way too hard.

In the beginning, Taako would have been lost without Lup’s moral support, Barry’s urging to experiment with their powers and study them, Magnus’ enthusiasm.

And now… well, Merle’s healing had saved his life a couple times. Lucretia was usually back at the base, ready to provide them with intel or call reinforcements. And Davenport? Well, without his leadership none of this would work in the first place.

Not that Taako hadn’t considered stopping. Hell, he had left for almost two years. Focusing on Sizzle it Up, on his career and his cooking. But once the show had ended - on a rather unpleasant note of his assistant trying to poison him and almost killing a few members of his studio audience - Taako had returned home.

He’d started teaching classes, publishing new recipes on a blog that got him a decent enough income, and working on an actual cookbook that he still hadn’t finished.

And one night, he’d put the mask back on, just to relive what it felt like to be a hero one more time.

He hadn’t stopped after that.

It was like an addiction, the helping people without showing his face. The admiration. The conversations about the Wizard and his friends that he overheard so often.

Taako knew the others felt the same way. Sure, they all had slightly different reasons they named the most important, but it was obvious that none of them could just quit one day. Their lives wouldn’t feel complete anymore. So they kept doing what they did best.

As he was doing now. Taako blinked when one of the robbers actually had the guts to point their knife as him.

A wave of his hand, a burst of warmth from the pendant around his neck, and they were holding a rubber chicken. Ow. Taako frowned at the sudden headache. His powers needed more time than that to recharge. But his smile was back on his face after a second. They didn’t need to know that.

“Come on, now. I know you’re smarter than that. Let’s just all calm down and put down our weapons.” Taako smiled winningly at the three of them. Of course he only meant them here, Taako generally went unarmed, save for the small knife tucked into his boot for emergencies.

The first one dropped their rubber chicken and raised their hands above their head. The second one hesitated, but then their knife hit the ground with a high clinking sound.

The last one…

“No, fuck you, freak! I ain’t goin’ to jail again! ‘specially not being caught by some… some fuckin’ demon from hell!”

Taako rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt. He’d heard all that countless times. Demon was a laughable insult, yet one people used a lot. They used alien more often though.

“I wish I’d come from hell,” Taako said brightly, “That’d make for one killer backstory.”

The other two, that Taako had dubbed the reasonable ones, were kneeling on the ground now, not moving an inch. Taako would put in a good word for them. It was always so much easier when they cooperated. Though it was true that a good fight, verbal or physical, was usually more fun.

The last robber spat on the pavement in front of Taako.

“Leave us the fuck alone. Take your… your piece of shit sister with her freak fire and go back to the hole you crawled out of!”

Now that was less fun. Taako could take insults against him easily, but no one insulted Lup if he had something to say.

Sometimes he hated how fast people had figured out Phantasma and the Wizard were twins. It subjected both of them to a lot of shit talk. This… was still pretty much harmless.

Still, Taako took a step closer, pointing his finger at the robber in a threatening gesture. “Now listen here, you little shit…”

There was a sound like fabric tearing, a ruffle of feathers… and then the robber stopped emoting, body going lax as he fell over unconscious in front of Taako.

“Dude! I was just getting started!” Taako glared at Reaper and crossed his arms. “You don’t take my fights from me like that!”

Reaper had the decency to look at least a little sheepish. “Police are almost here,” he said in an apologetic tone.

Taako huffed and eyed him. “Is that a fucking scythe?” That… that kind of made him stop being mad about the interrupted tirade. “Seriously?”

Reaper frowned. “I told you I’m the Reaper. I’m dedicated to my style. But if it makes you uncomfortable…”

Taako blinked in surprise as the scythe disappeared from his hand.

This fucking guy.

“Okay. Okay, birdman. We gotta talk. Now.”

They made quick work of tying the robbers to a lamp post together, just as police sirens could be heard in the distance.

Taako had to admit, even though he was still kinda sour about Reaper knocking out that asshole, it was nice having an additional pair of hands around. Usually Taako worked alone while the other person on hero shift was off fighting crime somewhere else. It was just more effective that way. Reaper was quick and efficient though. He didn’t get in the way, aside from that first incident.

“You worked in a team before?” Taako asked casually as he tied the last knot and stepped back to observe his handiwork.

Reaper shook his head. “To be quite honest, I’m very new to all of this.”

“I get that.” Taako nodded. “We’ve all been there.”

Reaper held out his hand. “I could give you a ride somewhere more private. Assuming you don’t want to have a talk with the police?”

Taako paused for a moment. “You gonna drag me to your secret underground lair to kill me?”

He definitely shouldn’t do this. He wasn’t Magnus, who trusted too easily and rushed into everything without thinking about it. He was Taako, and Taako was good out here.

Reaper smiled. “Who says that I wouldn’t have already killed you if I wanted to.”

Taako laughed. “Try me, Nevermore. I could take you.” He thought of the scythe again, and suddenly he wasn’t so sure.

But… aw, fuck it. Who’d ever heard of a coward superhero?

He reached out and took Reaper’s hand.

The sensation of teleporting was about as unpleasnt as possible. It was as if he’d stepped into a wall of icy air. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see… there was just cold darkness around him.

And then, within a moment, everything was back to normal. Taako shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Okay, that’s… definitely my least favorite mode of transportation. How do you do it?”

Reaper shrugged. “It gets easier over time.”

Taako looked around. They were back on the rooftop where they’d first met. One of Taako’s favorite place in the city.

“Guess I got real lucky, at least my powers don’t make me feel like an icicle. And what’s up with your skin being cold? You feel like a corpse, dude.”

Reaper sighed. “I’m sorry. It comes with the powers.”

Taako laughed and sat on the edge of the roof, patting the space next to him. “My friend, you have gotten yourself one shitty deal.”

“I guess.” Reaper sat, keeping his distance as he looked Taako over. “It’s a small price to pay for the chance to help people.”

Figures. Taako rolled his eyes. “You’re one of those superheroes. You’d get along with Bear. Or my sister. They’re all about that philanthropy.”

“Well, what other reason is there to do this job? What’s yours?” Reaper asked.

Taako shrugged. “I like the feeling of changing stuff, I guess. Having influence on how shitty the world is.”

That… was not what he’d meant to say at all. This was the truth, and he was just laying it out in the open like this.

“Huh.” Reaper nodded. “So you’re a big picture kinda guy. I understand.”

“Yeah.” Taako waved him off and stared at the city lights. Him and Lup had learned early that the world could be cold and unforgiving. And while Lup fought that by giving out love and warmth to everyone around her, Taako was a little more distanced.

Didn’t want to be seen as a good person or something, because that only upped people’s expectations.

He liked helping people without being known. That included saving someone from a burning car, but also secretly leaving a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee on Lucretia’s desk when she was too stressed to take breaks.

“So…” Reaper’s voice broke the silence and Taako steeled himself. He did not want to have this conversation. “You said you wanted to talk to me?”

Taako bit his lip. “Yeah. More or less. I said we have to talk. Not that I want to.”

“Ah.” Reaper nodded his understanding. “So I suppose you’re acting on the Captain’s orders?”

A sharp guy. Taako sighed. “There’s a standard procedure for when new wannabe heroes show up,” he explained, “We protect this city, and that also means we protect normal people who think they can pull off the shit we do. Only…”

“Only I’m not normal people.”

Talking to Reaper was easier than Taako had thought. Too easy, almost. He would have to watch his mouth so he didn’t accidentally slip a secret or two.

“Precisely, my man.” He patted Reaper’s arm, still weirded out by how cold he was. “So we don’t really know what to do. We can’t just trust you to have good intentions. We don’t know you. So… the Captain asked me to ask you to come in for questioning.” Taako watched anxiously as Reaper thought about that. Then his face darkened.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. You don’t trust me, but the same goes the other way around. What if I say something you don’t like? Would you try to lock me up? I’ve seen the good your people do, but I don’t know you all. I can’t trust you just like that.”

Taako nodded. “I get that.” He wasn’t sure if Reaper knew about Lucretia’s power. Rarely anyone did.

Her mind reading skill was the reason why she was in charge of all interrogations, but also why she rarely went out into the field. Once she opened herself up to the world around her, she couldn’t control whose mind she read, and it got overwhelming real quick.

Better have her work in a closed off room, with only one person to focus on. When she did go out, she usually only relied on her martial arts training and nothing powers related.

People who were brought in for questioning rarely ever liked the idea of her digging around in their brains, but it was a necessary evil.

Of course Reaper would want to protect his identity.

“So what do we do now?” Reaper asked, “Will you try to bring me in yourself?”

“Nah.” Taako stretched his arms and yawned. “You seem like a decent enough guy. No reason to fight you just 'cause you don’t wanna give away your secrets.”

Reaper smiled. “I’m beginning to like you, Wizard.”

Taako laughed. “Yeah, I just have that effect on people.”

“I see that. The press seems to like you most out of your group,” Reaper noted.

Taako grinned. “Drives 'tasma furious. But all she does is fire and explosions. I’m creative.”

Reaper nodded. “Yes, your way to solve problems is certainly… unique. It’s the most interesting to read about in the paper, for sure. Remember when you turned the raindrops into drops of soap and it made the ground all slippery and all these guys running away just fell flat on their faces? That was good one.”

“Hah!” Taako pointed at him. “I knew you were a fan!”

Reaper raised his hands defensively. “Hey, who isn’t, these days?”

He didn't even know how right he was on that one.

#taz #my writing #this is a long one!!!

[sometimesambroswrites]

Ehiiiiiii First of all: sup Italian pal (non sapevo lo fossi sto leggendo tutti i tuoi Tumblr prompt a vedo ora che sei italiana omg hype) Second of all: love your stories! Third: if u still take prompts could you do a fic where magnus works at lush or smth like that and Alec enters the first time to buy smth for izzy and then comes back every time for a lot of weeks and Magnus finally asks him on a date after he finds out izzy is not his girlfriend? Sorry if it's too complicated or anything!

Salve Italian pal!I’ll have you know I love this prompt to death and as soon as I read it I could just see Magnus working for Lush. Like, he would fit in perfectly. So thank you so much, I loved the prompt and I had a lot of fun writing this story (which is almost 3k long because I have no self control); I hope you like it!!Warning for pining and boys being embarrassing and the author being sleep deprivedAlso, I feel like Lush should sponsor me after this. Right? RIGHT?Since it’s 2 am and I have no fantasy, this fic shall be called

The Lush Fic

The place smells overwhelmingly good. In fact, it smells too good.Alec thinks he's probably going to be sick because of it and he canalready feel a headache blooming behind his eyes.

On top of that, everything is justso bright, soaps andpackagings and weird pudding-like thingies alike.

Alec is out of his depth. He shouldprobably go back home and give Izzy thirty dollars with a label thatsays sorry I'm a douche.

-Can I help you?

He turns suddenly and he realisestwo things at the same time: number one, he's been staring atsomething called Tender is the night fora couple of minutes now, and number two, the salesperson who's justapproached him is hot as hell. He's got glittery make up around hiseyes and green streaks in his hair, and he looks like he fitsperfectly into the extravagant shop.

He says: -Yes please,- and thenbites down on his tongue half hoping that it'll fall off.

The guy grins,a melt-your-soul kind ofgrin, and Alec is pretty sure the dizziness isn't all on thefragrances that keep washing over him. -You do look kind of lost,- heteases, his hands clasped in front of him; he's wearing nail polishthat's the same shade of green as his hair and he's wearing a coupleof rings on his index and middle finger.

-Yes, I'm – -, Alec would take adeep breath, be he's not sure that would help, -I'm looking for apresent.

The guy nods, patiently; Alec thinkshe probably has to deal with a lot of idiots in his line of work.He's probably not even the first one of the day.

-Did you have something specific inmind?

Alec scratches at the back of hisneck: -Uhm, not really?- he says, turning it into a half question, -Imean, I've never been here, so I – I wouldn't know. But maybesomething pink. And sweet. And – - he makes some sort ofunidentified gesture with his hands and he's about two seconds awayfrom walking out of the store, -glittery?

The guy nods like he knows exactlywhat Alec is talking about and he turns around, making a littlefollow me gesture withhis index and middle finger; he walks towards the other side of thestore, steps light as he avoids other customers and his colleagues;they stop in front of a series of wooden,square-shaped containers. Alec peeks inside and he spots dozens ofcolourful little balls.

-These,- the guy says, picking up ablue one, -are called Bath bombs.Here,- he moves closer to a little basin of water, -I'll show you.

He lets it fall and the Bathbomb hits the water with a smallsplash; it immediatelystarts dissolving, tainting the water around it a deep green-bluecolour, stripes of pink and yellow coming out here and there, andAlec has to admit it looks exceptionally pretty. The thin whitelather makes it look like a deep night sky.

-You use it in the bathtub,- the guysays, and then winks, he winks,and Alec swallows. -Looks pretty,- he says, and he's pretty sure he'sblushing.

The guy beams and gestures at theother Bath bombs ondisplay: -We actually have a Bath bomb calledPink that you mightlike,- he points at said Bath bomb,which is, indeed, deep pink and sheer and it kind of screams Izzy.

He nods: -That looks perfect.

The guy reaches for a yellow andblack paper bag and picks one of the Pink Bath Bombsup and holds it out in front of Alec's face: -Smells like vanilla.

Alec tentatively moves his facecloser to the Bath Bomb,the tips of his ears uncomfortably hot, but as he tries to smell ithe realizes he probably will never be able to smell anything else inhis life.

The guy grins: -You can'tdistinguish smells anymore, can you?

Alec feels his eyes crinkling withthe smile that curves his lips: -Not even remotely.

The guy chuckles, dropping the BathBomb into the paper bag: -Wellthen, you'll have to trust me.

-I guess I have no choice,- Alecsays, trying not to be visibly excited that he was actually able toflirt back. If that was actual flirting. Which he's not so sureabout.

The guy's smile turns deeper for asecond, and then he's pointing out other Bath Bombs –one called Sex Bomb thatapparently smells like jasmine and has a pretty rose on top of it,and one called Twilightwhich the guy assures him has nothing to do with the book and smellslike lavender. They are all rigorously pink.

-Anything else?- the guy asks, andAlec is pretty sure he'd buy the whole store if he tried to sell itto him.

-Uhm, well, it's – it's an apologypresent, so maybe something else that's pretty and pink?

The guy beams again as he walks afew steps over the shelves on the walls on the right of the BathBombs: -I'll show you myfavourite.

He points at one of the pudding-likethingies, a deep pink one: -These are Shower Jellies.You can use them as regular body wash,- he winks, -I promise itsmells like cinnamon.

-Looks perfect,- Alec says, and hethinks he could have gone without knowing it was the cute guy'sfavourite. He really could have.

-Great!- the guy takes one and putsit in a different paper bag. -Anything else?

Alec's wallet is screaming at himthat he needs to say no.

He shakes his head and he diesinside the tiniest bit: -No, thanks. I think she's going to forgiveme.

The guy smiles, warm, the cuff onhis ear catching the light: -I'm sure she will.

It's disappointingly anticlimacticafter that: the guy doesn't work the register so he simply sends Alecoff with another smile, and he's already busy with a new customerwhen Alec walks out of the store.

*

Needless to say,Izzy loves her present and she spends an unhealthy amount of timepoking at the Shower Jelly. Sheenjoys making him squirm for a couple of minutes before she says: -Iguess you're forgiven,- tongue in cheek as per usual, and Alecraffles her hair.

*

He makes it one week before he goesback.

Well, so what? Clary's birthdayisn't that far away. A couple of months. Whatever. Plus, the store ison his way back from work. If he takes a completely different routefrom his usual one. Whatever.

The guy beams at him the moment Alecsteps into the store, and Alec's mind just goes oh shit fora few seconds because he'd managed to convince himself the guy mightnot be on shift or he might not remember him, but there heis, with blue hair and blue nailpolish as he asks: -So, did she forgive you?

It takes Alec a moment to answersince he's uselessly trying to fight the huge smile that threatens tostretch his lips: -Yeah. Yes, she did. Thank you.

-You're very welcome,- the guy says,and he looks especially cute today; he's wearing an oversized, brightblue jumper with tight, black leggings, and black boots, and Aleccan't even blame the overwhelming smell of the shop since he's beeninside for maybe two minutes.

-Are you looking for something else?

-I – yes, yes I am. Uhm, abirthday present? For a friend. She really liked the BathBombs I bought the last time.

Which is not a lie, by the way.Clary loved those BathBombs, spent at least twentyminutes watching YouTube videos about them. She even picked out theones she liked best and wrote them on a list that was later hung onthe fridge. She probably hopes Jace will take the hint. Poor thing.

-So,- the guy asks, teasingly, -Areyou a Bath Bombs expertyet, or do you still need my help?

Alec feels himself blushing. What'snew. He digs his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it, says: -Iactually have a list of stuff she wants, if you could – ?

The guy holds out his hand, jokinglyserious and business-like: -Leave it to me.

Alec gives him his phone, a pictureof the list on the screen – because he's had a sister fortwenty-two years. He can take a hint.

He follows the guy around kind ofhelplessly for ten minutesbefore they're done, three paper bags in his hands as he walkstowards the register.

The guy waves him goodbye and Alecnearly trips over his own feet.

*

Of course, it was just wishfulthinking that he'd be able to keep it a secret until Clary'sbirthday.

Izzy is immediately on him as soonas she spots the yellow and black bag with Lush's logo and she callsfor Clary as soon as she's dragged Alec into the kitchen and hasemptied the bag's contents on the table.

Clary's eyes literally sparklewhen she sees that Alec's boughtevery single thing she'd written on her list; she kisses him on thecheek: -I knew you'd take the hint.

Alec feels kind of manipulated.

Although, it iskind of nice watching his sister and Clary as they coo over soaps andshampoos and jelly stuff. Whatever.

He doesn't even realise Izzy hasapproached him with a dangerous glint in her eyes until she says:-So,- dragging out the o,-How come you went back so soon?

Alec feels like this would be a goodmoment to leave. He takes the smallest step back, hoping his sisterwon't notice. -It's on my way to work and Clary wanted that stuff.

Both Clary and Izzy say: -No, it'snot.

-I'll buy you two whatever you wantif you stop asking.

Izzy and Clary exchange looks. -Noway.

Alec sighs. -There's this cute guy …-

*

He goes back the next week, becausehe's weak and Izzy hasn't stopped asking about the Cute Guy– that's what they're calling him now, capital letters and all.

He almost hides, almost doesn't evengo inside, but Cute Guy waves at him as soon as he sees him and Alecis just. Gone. Fucked. He's got a crush but Cute Guy will probablyrequest a restraining order against him if he keeps this up.

-Here for another BathBomb?- Cute Guy asks, a teasingsmile on his lips. His hair is a deep pink today, and his nails, ofcourse, match.

Alec wants to dig a hole in theground and bury himself in it. Just a bit. -Yeah, my – my rommateis actually jealous that I didn't get him anything yet, so – - heshrugs.

Cute Guy nods like that's totallynormal: -Understandable.

Which, again, is not a lie, by theway. Simon genuinely pouted for ten minutes when he saw the bag ofstuff Clary got. But still. Simon isn't normal.

-Have you already thought ofsomething?

Alec shrugs. Again. -I though maybea Bath Bomb to makehim happy.

-So,- Cute Guy says, hesitantly, -Iguess you won't need my help?

Alec blinks, trying to figure out ifhe's just imagining the way Cute Guy sounded almost hopeful. -Well, Imean, I'm always pretty lost in here? But I have no problem lookingfor something by myself.

Cute Guy beams and Alec just givesup. -No way, I'll have to help you.

*

Simon honest to God jumps up anddown when Alec comes back home with two Bath Bombs calledDragon's Egg.

Alec had told Cute Guy that Simonwas into Game of Thrones and Cute Guy had nodded enthusiastically andhad gaped at Alec when he'd said he wasn't into TV shows at all.Actually, he'd shaken his head and he'd said: -What do you even dowith your life?- sounding shocked. Alec had been incredibly endeared.

Izzy and Clary stand at his sides asthey watch Simon coo at his Bath Bombs.-So,- Clary says, casually, -How's Cute Guy?

Alec sighs: -Always cute.

Jace frowns at him from the door,arms crossed over his chest: -How come you didn't get meanything?

*

So he goes back for Jace. Whatever.It's not like he has a dignity anymore.

Except that Cute Guy is workingregister today and Alec is stuck with a guy who introduces himself asRaphael in a monotone and leaves him to browse through the BubbleBars by himself.

They're fun and they look like thekind of thing Jace would secretly enjoy, so he gets one that smellslike chocolate – apparently – and he makes his way to theregister with his black and yellow paper bag.

And there Cute Guy is. With hissmile and his red streaks and red nail polish. -Let me guess,- hesays as he reaches for a bigger paper bag under the counter: -Anotherdisgruntled roommate?

-Best friend,- Alec corrects him,and that's when his eyes fall on Cute Guy's nametag. It reads Magnus.

Magnus.

It fits him perfectly.

-Well, tell you what,- Cute Guy, Magnus says, almostconspiratorially as he lowers his voice, -Since you're always buyingpresents I'll give you one of the good samples. For personaluse,- and then he stops, blushes, and Alec with him, although hedoesn't know why.

Magnus throws a small, black container in the bag and he rings himup, blush still sitting on his cheeks, and Alec doesn't really knowwhat to say, hell, he doesn't know what happened, he justknows that Magnus doesn't quite look him in the eyes when he saysgoodbye.

*

The sample, it turns out, is a Massage Bar called Hottie.It's warming and stimulating.

Izzy blinks at Alec for twenty seconds: -We're going there tomorrowand you're asking Cute Guy out.

-What?- Alec takes back the sample, -No, no, no way,what do you –

-Well, I'm going,- Izzy says, -You can do what you want.

*

-Shit,- Alec mutters under his breath when he sees his sister insidethe shop, -Shit, shit, shit.

Izzy smiles at him, her very satisfied smile, Magnus standingright next to her, and Alec considers leaving, he really does,but then Magnus says: -Alec.-, and he feels like he could stay rightthere for the rest of his life.

He swallows. -Hey.

Magnus smiles, anticipation running through his fingers as he keepstwisting them: -Your sister was telling me that she's the oneyou bought that stuff for the first time.

Alec blinks. That's not what he expected. -Yes?- he says, confusionturning it into a question.

Izzy rolls her eyes: -Why don't you two go talk outside?

Magnus looks away, bashful, a small smile on his lips: -Of course,I'll take my break if it's – - he glances at Alec, -okay with you.

-Yeah, no, of course, I mean –

Izzy glares at them both.

Which is how Alec finds himself on the sidewalk at the back entranceof the shop with Magnus, Cute Guy Magnus.

-I thought you were buying stuff for your girlfriend,- Magnus says,in one breath, without looking at him.

Alec blinks in confusion: -My what?

-Yeah, I – I mean, after that first time I thought maybe you – Idon't know, maybe you were a serial cheater and you had to beforgiven a lot so you kept coming up with excuses and that'swhy – I mean, if I'd known that she was your sister Iwould've –

Alec blurts out: -I'm really gay.

Smooth.

Magnus looks at him, eyes wide,barely holding back a smile, and Alec grunts, says: -Oh God.-,rubbing his face with his hands as Magnus chuckles.

-Not funny,-he whines, -I've already embarrassed myself enough my coming here fora month. And youthought I was cheating–

-I'm sorry,- Magnus says, stillchuckling, and Alec peers at him through his fingers; he doesn't looksorry at all. Gorgeous, yes. Sorry, not so much. He lowers his hands.

-What would have you done?- Alecasks, holding his breath, -If you'd known it was for my sister.

Magnus looks back and forth betweenhis eyes for a second: -I'll have you know I had it all planned out.I would have run after you as soon as you'd left the shop. To keep itprofessional, you know.

Alec nods, pressing his lipstogether. It's useless. He's smiling anyway. -Of course.

-And then I would have asked youout.

-Well, it does sound pretty nice.

-Right? I know. I'm a master atdaydreaming.

Jesus, Alec is half in love already.He can hear himselfsmile as he asks: -You know what would sound even nicer?

Magnus grins. -Few things, I'msure,- he teases.

Alec chuckles, shaking his head; hetakes a deep breath: -Would you like to go out with me?

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