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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

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Hi, I'd like to request a spiritual sequel to an older fic, spoils of War. Essentially, I'd love a fic that explores political prisoner/new husband alec living in/adjusting to his new life in Edom. Bonus points if someone (probably jace, izzy, clary) try to come and "save" alec

Thanks! Reading the Wednesday prompts has been so much fun these last few weeks

okay! so i had to take a two day break from filling prompts because RL kicked my butt.

i'm back now and so relieved because i have missed writing and filling prompts. i loved that fic and i took some time to consider where i wanted to go with it so enjoy!

lumine

There is supposed to be an interlude, a moment where both grooms can go refresh themselves and Magnus is amused at how greatly his plans have changed since he first saw his husband.

Alexander seems torn between wanting to keep his eyes and attention on Magnus — the bond tugging ravenously between them — and warily keeping an eye on his family and clave representatives. It’s clear they want to interrogate Magnus’ war prize and find some way to alienate him from Magnus.

Never let it be said that Magnus cannot be gracious… when it gets him something.

“Surely you don’t miss them already.” Magnus teases, voice dark and low as he steps closer to Alexander. His boy is a few inches taller and it is perfect for Magnus to hook a chin over his shoulder and pull him against Magnus’ chest.

Perfect for Magnus to drag his goatee across a runed neck and then, in front of the claves shocked and disgusted faces, Magnus presses his mouth to the dark line and bites. Marking up own of their precious angelic runes with his teeth and tongue in a blasphemous display.

Alexander buckles, knees nearly giving out and only staying on his feet because Magnus is holding him up.

“I’m not going to give you time to miss them—” Magnus muses and then, because Magnus is a cruel, selfish royal and he delights in it, he crooks his fingers, magic materializing to his every whim.

Black leather wraps around Alexander’s neck, snug and tight with an engraved MB and a d-ring that Magnus, very smugly, clicks a leash onto.

The silence of the room is echoing, and Magnus knows that every single eye is on them, watching as he collars and leashes an heir of Alicante and then, Magnus chuckles.

Alexander is flushed a light pink and is staring down at the leash connecting them and holding Magnus’ cloak around him with lightly trembling fingers.

Magnus tugs and Alexander stumbles, like he can do nothing but obey, but is too dazed to watch his feet and Magnus leads him past the gauntlet of spectators. When someone tries to follow them, Magnus seals the door behind them both with magic.

The celebration banquet isn’t for several hours, which is more than enough time for Magnus to consummate his new bond and ensure that Alexander is tied to him by every moral and immoral law in existence.

After all, it won’t do for any of the pesky loopholes that Magnus discovered and left in the treaties, to be used against him. Magnus is not about to risk even the slightest possibility of Alexander being snatched away.

The suite Magnus commands is different than the one assigned him.

That one is undoubtedly full of his entourage and those begging the favor of his touch, but Magnus has no time or patience for them. No interest in others, not when he has a beautiful prize to unwrap and claim. It’s better that they learn this now, that Magnus has someone worth his interest now, someone to claim so thoroughly that even his father would be awed.

Alexander listens like he was created to obey Magnus’ every wish and his hazel eyes are enormous as they worship Magnus with an awed, hopeful gaze.

“My good boy—” Magnus murmurs as he wraps the leash around his hand several times, so that Alexander is barely half a foot away. Then he pulls him down, just those last few inches to demand the taste of his mouth, Magnus’ own lips still stained red with Alexander’s blood.

He’s eager but still so new to it and Magnus enjoys the taste of his eagerness, the way Alexander presses too close, his tongue teasing and kittenish as he tests Magnus’ patience.

Finally, Magnus gets a hand in Alexander’s hair and then slams him against the back of the door, holding him in place with by leash and curls as Magnus uses magic to get Alexander naked and his own cock out.

There is a method to this kind of claiming and Magnus has plans.

Plans that are immediately changed when Magnus takes the hand wrapped with the leash and wraps it around both of their cocks. It’s an obscene burn, the drag of leather and the coolness of his rings around their hot, slick cocks and Alexander comes with a strangled whine as he writhes between Magnus and the door.

“Oh, what a pity.” Magnus murmurs and he smears his boy’s come over Alexander’s belly, “we’ll be doing this the hard way then.”

It’s with a feral hunger that Magnus wraps his hand around Alexander’s spent cock and tugs.

Alexander wails even as Magnus trips him back, getting him on the ground and following, straddling Alexander’s body. Magnus pins him there with a smirk as he rubs his hands across Alexander’s torso and chest.

#magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shaodwhunters #shadowhunters au #immortal husband #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #lumine writes #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets #spoils of war #shadowhunters

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real-life-living-dead · 3 months

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By the Angel Bingo prompt - Trying to get their attention

This is my first time trying my hand at writing fiction. I decided to use this Bingo event as an excuse to try. The prompt I'm filling is 'Trying to get their attention.

Here is a link to my master post: Masterpost

The bingo was housted on the Malec discord server @malecdiscordserver/ @MalecServer

#by the angel bingo #shaodwhunters #malec #alec lightwood #magnus bane #my writing

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malecarchive · 1 month

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misfittq · 1 year

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The squad is playing a team sport Simon: Are you upset you don’t get to be on the same team as Maia? Clary: Have you ever played a game with Maia? Simon: No… Clary: Have you ever been trapped in a cage with a wolverine? Meanwhile, on the other side of the field Maia, chasing Izzy: I SAID FASTER! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORD “FASTER” MEANS? IT MEANS MORE FAST!!!!

#incorrect shadowhunter quotes #shaodwhunters tv #simon lewis #clary fairchild #maia roberts #isabelle lightwood #robin posts ✉

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1jemmagirl22 · 2 years

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Look, I’ve developed a tolerance to TSC torture, but my gods did the words ‘from Ash to Janus’ make me want to scream in terror.

#secrets of blackthorn hall #sobh #the shaodwhunter chronicles #ash morgenstern #janus #the wicked powers #the dark artifices

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superherokisser · 2 months

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ANYTHING FROM THE CHARACTER ASK GAME WITH ANY F/O >:)

DHJSJA THANK YOUUU COLE<333/p ok. sigh. mostly about jason. sorry guys. i love my kids.

23: i NEEDDDD to do this with jason ok. my son. the son ever❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

also here’s some of just my kids in general!!!!!

15 and 16: ok like i don’t really minddd i am a bad father and i don’t really pay attention to my kids and their ships(romance hater/hj). i think rose does something Mean to jason in titans so i guess i don’t like that. i like roy and jason!!read a cute transfem jason fic where he was dating roy<3 and uhhherrmm artemis i think her name is? don’t have an opinion abt that one either

6: we both like to read!!!!!!idk we like different books but it’s cool!! i pinky promise i will get to read those jane girl’s books🤞🤞and jason said he’d read the shaodwhunter chronicles 🔥🔥

3: not really his fault but he died!!!and like!!makes me sad but he’s back now i guess!!but i get worried!!!!i worry!!!!!i don’t want him to die again!!!:$:&:&)$&

1: abt peggy!!!! i loveeeeee how confident she is and how jusy like!!!!she acts it’s so cool and i love her so much and i’m proud of her and i love her and i love

#cole <3 #i’m insane sorry

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alastairstom · 5 months

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I LOVE how you decorated your room with Shadowhunter fandom stuff btw idk if i ever said it.

My own flat has a lot of shadowhunter and overwhelming shelves that just stick out and take all over the place, it leaves people saying always "OH WOW" and than for some reason, they try and justify and position themselves as "a fan of something" in some other regard fandom lol.

How do friends and family members first react to ur love of the shaodwhunters (either in convos or when coming over to your place)?

Honestly, it's just kind of part of my personality at this point. Like Matthew, I'm kind of scrunkly irl - weird as fuck but charming in my own way. Like Matthew's obsession with Oscar Wilde being an odd but integral part of his charm, people seem to view my TSC obsession as an odd but integral part of my charm.

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chewriting · 2 years

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By popular demand (two out of nothing is still the majority) I managed to write a second part of my "Kit dying" snippet. Apparently I can't write these boys without dumping an exponential amount of trauma onto them. I promise I'm trying to write something more feel good.

If you're interested: Part One

Content Warning: death

Ty’s seen people die before. Arguably more than someone his age should.

He was sitting at his mother’s bedside when she took her final breaths; reaching for his father’s hand when Julian threw a knife into his skull. There have been Centurions who misstepped on missions only to be cut through by demons and hundreds of nameless Shaodwhunters he’s seen fall in the heat of battle. His twin sister, the other side of his coin, bled out on the dais of the Council Hall after only trying to help.

Death is an inevitable fact of being a Shadowhunter. Many don’t make it to old age. Those who do are far too haunted by all the family and friends who fell so they could remain standing. As a people, they mourn and move on. It can happen to any one of them, at any time, and there’s no use dwelling.

Ty’s seen enough people he loves die. He never expected to add Kit to the list.

Swords meet in harsh crashes of metal and wood, arrows fly from their marks in well-aimed arcs over allies and enemies alike, and voices cry out wordlessly from both sides. All of it stays carefully below the layer of classical music pouring through Ty’s headphones. Fighting is in his blood–the block preventing a blow locked on his Achilles’ coming as easy as breathing–but it’s keeping track of his family that leaves Ty reeling.

He entered the fray with Dru at his side with a vow to stay in each other’s eye line as much as possible. Though it held like smoke as soon as she saw Jaime pinned between two fae and she lept to his aide, chained kama sliding from her grip expertly. An attack on his end diverted his attention and when he got a chance to look back where she once was, Dru was no longer there.

Emma and Julian are likely somewhere at the battle’s heart, back-to-back fighting like they used to. Because even though they’re no longer bound by a ritual, it’s difficult to unlearn several years of practice. Mark is hopefully still on the outer edges with the other archers, taking out threats before other preoccupied allies even notice the danger.

Livvy drifts back into his field of vision, sliding through fatal swings not even aimed at her. Even though the years since her partial resurrection had weighed Ty’s heart down with guilt, he’s happy that she can’t get hurt here.

“I checked on everyone. Still alive and no grave injuries.” Her voice rings like a lonely bell over the cacophony, artificial and natural, and the barely soothing balm of his music. Ty knows he’d be able to hear her over any sound. Whether it be their connection as necromancer and revived or a resilient thread tying them as twins, even deaf Ty would be able to make out Livvy’s voice. It hits his chest before his ears.

He can only nod, unwilling to give her existence away even to the Seelie knight he fells. Her check-ins have been the only thing keeping him held together while fighting. And he knows that Livvy finds comfort in knowing her family is alive too.

“Do you want me to try to find Anush?” She asks. Her feet barely graze the back of a werewolf whose corpse lays face down in the grass. Ty shrugs. It’s not that he doesn’t care about Anush, he does, deeply, it’s just that the anxiety about his well-being is trumped by several others. And he trusts Anush’s skills.“Kit?”

Ty can’t freeze, it’d be a death sentence, but he falters for a moment long enough that a stray spear snags his shirt, taking fabric and skin as it winds back up. It stings but he can ignore it. Though Ty hasn’t asked Livvy to find Kit, see how he’s faring, he knows she has. They were friends once and she openly disagreed with his and Ty’s three-year-long sharp silence that only recently dulled until it didn’t sting every time Ty even thought about bridging the gap.

He can’t know how Kit’s doing because it’ll be too distracting. Because the second he hears bad news, he’ll rush to his aide at the expense of his own safety. Ty isn’t overtly protective, not like Julian is, not like Livvy was. But he has a lingering feeling that he’d do just about anything to stay alive.

This can’t be where Ty dies. Not with Livvy still tethered in the fragile state between life and death. Not with the fact that his death would leave her adrift, unable to find peace.

So Ty shakes his head firmly, focusing on sharp blades nearing dangerously close to his nose and preventing the death of others where he can.

In the end, Ty doesn’t need Livvy to update him on Kit’s status. He sees it for himself.

His head of blonde hair sticks out sharply in the sea of muted tones and dark red. There’s only one other like it, several paces away cutting down soldiers with grace and ease. A particularly driven fae hacks and slashes at Kit with rabid frenzy. Kit is able to block most of the blows but he keeps giving ground, not strong enough to push back at all. The sweat dotting along his brow and soaking into his roots says he’s been at it for a while. The red streaking his arms say he hasn’t been very successful in staying unharmed.

Ty’s feet move without his command. He ducks thrusting spears and narrowly avoids being split in two by a longsword but his attention never wavers from Kit’s fight. A rushing accompanies his violins: the sound of his blood in his ears. Livvy rushes ahead, unable to do much aside from watching.

When Ty’s only a handful of feet away, his hand readying to throw a dagger directly into the fae’s throat, a second blade slips from the fae’s sleeve and plunges into Kit’s stomach.

It’s almost like Ty is the one getting stabbed. Sharp pains shoot outward from his abdomen, enough that he flinches. The fae grins, mouth stretched too far over his teeth and eyes bulging, as he digs it further in. They rip it out only to jam it right back into his chest.

Ty’s heart–the one that hasn’t been whole since Livvy’s stopped beating–shreds behind his ribs.

Kit doesn’t even stumble, too busy staring at the handle sticking straight up. His sword drops from his hand as he crumples to the ground. If Ty isn’t mistaken, he doesn’t look afraid. His eyes slide shut, peaceful and content. But Ty can’t be right. Kit can’t be happy he’s dying.

The fae lets him drop, abandoning his knife to disappear between the gaps of those still up and fighting. Ty feels faint. Fighting through pain that threatens to black out his vision, he roughly pushes through to Kit’s body.

Ty knows a chest wound is too severe to come back from; he’s seen it all before. But can’t let Kit die. He can’t do nothing.

Livvy is hunched over Kit’s torso, hands poised over his arms but unable to touch as she whispers in his ear. Her voice echoes across the battlefield.

“No, Kit. You can’t leave him. He needs you. I need you. Your family needs you. Stick around for just a bit longer. Just until he gets here. He’s coming Kit, I promise. I promise.”

Ty skids to Kit’s side, stele already clenched between his whitening fingers. Each iratze he applies fades into Kit’s skin. Like they were never there. Ty’s desperate attempts to make one stick lead to no results. He remembers Julian recounting how he cradled Livvy in his arms, blood still pooling even after her heart stilled. He knows what it all means.

Kit is already gone. Dead in the few seconds it took for Ty to cross several feet.

He threads his fingers in Kit’s, steeling the memory of his calloused palms and still warm skin.

Then, the chanting starts. Tossed around the sea of fighters, some overlapping and some cutting through the noise like trumpets, the fae call to each other. The heir is dead.

Then Livvy begins to weep. She folds over him, wailing into his still chest.

There’s scuffle all around Ty; metal clashing, arrows whizzing, voices calling, and instruments harmonizing, but he can’t hear any of it anymore. He’s not sure why someone hasn’t plunged a sword through his back while he’s distracted. Maybe even the Seelie have a small portion of mercy to allow Ty to grieve. Maybe someone watched it all and is protecting them. A small part of him, dried and hardened by grief, wishes someone would just put him out of his misery. Save him from having to go through this again.

Ty never got to tell Kit he forgave him. That he loved him with more fierceness than Ty believed could ever fit in his chest.

In his periphery, a hole is made in the wall of people. Jace heaves, a shortsword dripping blood into the grass, his hair a mess and eyes ablaze. His gaze locks onto Kit’s still, bloody form, and Ty’s never seen Jace’s face shutter the way it does. Despite all the trauma he went through before coming to New York and all the pain that followed until Sebastian's death, Ty never saw him falter. He’s the best fighter of his generation, the boy who survived heavenly fire, and walked demon realms twice, all while cracking jokes Ty still doesn't understand somedays.

Emotions flash across Jace’s face. One’s Ty can recognize–pain, rage, grief–and others that he doesn’t have a name for.

He looks directly at Ty when he speaks, gravel breaking up his single word. “Who?”

“It wasn’t some I recognized. But they had bright silver hair and a pale scar stretching from temple to chin,” Ty says, surprised he’s even able to reply at all. Not surprised with how much he remembers of the fae that killed the only man Ty’s ever loved. In another attempt to help, he points in the direction the soldier disappeared in.

Jace breaks through the tight-knit of survival-fueled desperation, not another word uttered.

Ty doesn’t believe in ‘an eye for an eye.’ Getting revenge just creates an endless loop of death that’s never satiated. But Ty can’t find it in himself to care.

Livvy still sobs into Kit’s shirt, tears streaking her cheeks but leaving no stain on the world around her. Ty gently gets her attention with a few utterances of her name.

“I’m getting him out of here. I need you to guide me.”

She nods, floating above heads to find the best route. Gathering Kit into his arms, Ty lifts him over his shoulder. He’s nothing but dead weight. Ty doesn’t make a habit of carrying anything heavier than the equipment pack he brings on investigative missions, but a certain resolve settles in his bones. Even if what made Kit Kit is no longer in his body, Ty won’t let it get trampled by unwatchful feet.

“This way,” Livvy calls. Ty doesn’t even need to look up to follow.

Blood soaks into the fabric of Ty’s uniform. Sweat drips down his neck and pools at the base of his back. His breaths come in uneven pants, exhaling in time with each stomp of his boot against the tread-packed earth. If he gets swiped by a sword or spear, the pain doesn’t register. Ty doesn’t look up–doesn’t stop moving–until he’s broken the outer layer and can lay Kit down on the untouched grass.

He’s thankful Kit closed his eyes as he fell, Ty doesn’t know if he’d be able to do it with his own hand.

Everything else is a blur. Behind him, the battle rages on. Fighters best others, blood is shed and lives are lost but Ty doesn’t turn to watch. He keeps his eyes on Kit, dagger unsheathed in case Livvy notices someone coming towards them. They flank him, two sentinels wordlessly dedicated to a cause, until the sound of battle stumbles into silence.

Ty’s not sure if they won or if the Seelie retreated after realizing their goal had been fulfilled. The shadow meant to fall over Faerie extinguished before it could even form. All he knows is the world eventually quiets, the fight for their lives and their cause postponed to another day. Everything that kept Ty’s back straight evaporates, leaving him with barely enough energy to catch himself before he crashed into Kit’s side.

Kit, his Watson, is dead and everything is worse now.

Jace is the first one to find them: Ty curled like a parenthesis against Kit’s shoulder. He falls to his knees by Kit’s head, tears dripping down his cheeks silently. Dru comes next, who freezes at first sight before letting out a sob far too similar to Livvy’s. She doesn’t fall but her legs shake as her hands raise to cover her mouth. Jaime stands behind her, one hand gently resting on her shoulder.

Everyone else trickles in after that. Silent grief palpable like a heavy fog. Emma and Julian joined at the hand, tears streaking Emma’s cheeks while Julian takes slow, even breaths. Clary, Simon, and Izzy give Jace space, only Alec comes up behind him to wrap his arm around his shoulders. No one else notices the other half of the bracket, enclosing Kit like something precious. His first two friends and the last two who saw him alive.

The funeral takes place at Cirenworth. Kit had no ties to Idris and as he wasn’t going to be added to the Silent City, the trip would be pointless. It isn’t the first time Ty’s worn all white since Livvy’s funeral, and it won’t be the last. Still, somehow, the bright fabric feels like it sears into his skin.

His pyre is smaller than Ty expected. A Silent Brother spoke of Kit’s soul being safe and at peace, now in a place without strife and pain. Tessa took the stand to say a few words about how much she treasured the short time they got together and Jem kept his speech brief, talking about his endless reserve of references and how his love went deep enough to touch the center of the Earth.

None of it registered in Ty’s head. Even the songs he uses to calm down sound like nothing but static in his ears. Everyone else is silent, grief clogging their throats. Ty knows how it feels, like one crack in his resolve will cause his entire foundation to crumble.

The pyre lights, hot and bright. Its heat caresses Ty’s face. His heart thumps painfully in his chest, all but begging to be released and join Kit to burn. Kit’s heron necklace stays cold between Ty’s fingers and palm. He was thankful Tessa and Jem allowed him to keep it.

Eventually, Mina starts to cry. Luckily they don’t have to watch Kit’s body actually burn, but she saw them lay him on top of the wood stack and hasn’t seen him come back down. You can’t explain to a three-year-old that Kit was already long gone by the time they dressed him for his cremation. She wails, and her parents have to take her inside.

After that, everyone else drifts back into Cirenworth too. Ty lingers, listening to the logs crackle and pop and soaking in the warmth. Though he knows this fire is no hotter than any other–likely less so due to its reduced size–Ty imagines it’s the last bits of Kit’s soul escaping into the world. He always had so much energy. All of it couldn’t have been abandoned when he died.

Some people stay to talk mutedly amongst themselves in the living room, some leave to offer privacy. Ty slips upstairs, fingers running along the textured wallpaper until he finds the room that’s undoubtedly Kit’s.

It’s bright. Brighter than his bedroom back in Los Angeles. His curtains are drawn to allow in the most natural light. Potted plants dot his windowsill, with some even spreading into the less lit corners. There are shirts and a pair of jeans laying just short of a laundry basket, another just beside it filled with clean and folded clothes. By his bedside is a considerable stack of comic books, depicting characters Ty doesn’t recognize in fonts that hurt to look at, and a lone novel balancing precariously at the edge. A Tale of Two Cities, with a bakery receipt as a bookmark on page 297.

Stupidly, Ty falls backward onto Kit’s unmade blankets. It still smells like him. Boyish and warm, like cloves and sleeping in late. Ty’s chest aches.

He toys with Kit’s pendant, rubbing the design between his forefinger and thumb. Memories paw the elastic Ty’s sealed his mind in, pleasant and torturous alike, but Ty doesn’t allow them in. Not yet.

“Ty?” It’s Livvy. She’s been doing her best to be comforting, but Ty’s always needed more than just soothing words to calm him down. And she can’t do anything more than speak to him anymore. “How are you feeling?”

There isn’t a word for the contradiction that now resides in Ty’s chest. An endless, beating storm and perfect numbness at the same time. He didn’t have one before and hasn’t come up with one in the time between Livvy’s funeral and now. So he stays silent, following cracks in Kit’s ceiling with his eyes.

She drifts down next to him, the only knowledge that she’s there is pressure on Ty’s skin from her locket that dips and raises in time with her proximity. They don’t speak, cataloging Kit’s room individually.

“He changed it some since I was last in here.”

“You came here?”

“Sometimes. I was here when Mina was born.” She stops, her voice cracking. “I liked seeing how he was doing. That he was alright, all the things considered.”

Ty can only nod. During his time at the Scholomance, Livvy used to pester him to just write a letter to Kit. Talk things out. At the time, even thinking about speaking to Kit again was enough to send his heart into a panic. The idea hurt like a thousand cuts, inescapable. Now, Ty wonders if Livvy was so adamant about it because she knew something he didn’t. She saw how Kit was handling their distance.

He rubs harder into the pendant, wishing his fingers could run over it just right and bring Kit back. At the very least to let him know things Ty couldn’t find the courage or time to say. Things Kit deserved to know.

Almost like Livvy could read his mind, she says: “Don’t even think about it.” Her voice is hard and biting. It feels like an accusation.

“Think about what?”

“Resurrecting him.”

“I wasn’t,” Ty rolls so the blanket wraps around his shoulders tightly, feeling like a child.

“Good. Because Kit was so pissed at you for raising me. I can’t even imagine his fury if you brought him back.” She sighs. “Let him rest, Ty.”

He isn’t in the mood to be scolded about his past mistakes, especially the ones that he still faces everyone morning. Especially the ones he’ll never be able to properly apologize about.

“I can’t anyways,” He admits. Because Ty did think about it. During that first night when everything still felt like it could have just been a nightmare, Ty did think about bringing him back. But the more he thought about it, the more it crumbled in his hands like loose yarn. Despite being a Centurion now, with more access to hidden information and dangerous ingredients, he also knows of the consequences. “I don’t have the means of getting some of the ingredients, and he wouldn’t be there.”

Livvy makes a choked noise Ty chooses to ignore. In Kit’s bedroom, cradled by his comforter that still clings to his smell and guarded by the walls where he hung up posters of Mundane singers and movies, Ty weeps.

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multi-bookworm · 3 years

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Ty: *holds a knife to Kits throat*

Kits brain: oh no! A shadowhunter with a knife to my throa-

Kit:

Kits brain: damn he's pretty

Ty:

Kit: well hey good-looking😏

Ty: what?

Kit: what?

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sophie-collins-lightwood · 3 years

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marauder-level-chaos · 3 years

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The Voice Inside My Head Ch. 2

More slow burn between soulmates. Magnus and Alec both wonder if there is anybody for them and they are too scared to find out. Alec also does something he never thought he would have the courage to do. Masterlist.

Warning: swears, soulmate AU, fluff, slight slow burn

A/N: Okay yes I created some parallels between Magnus and Alec but does that really surprise us at this point? I’m a sucker for parallels and sprinkle them everywhere. Y’all should know that by now. Also I know Magnus’ part is kinda blah, I’m sorry.

***

September, 12. Alexander Lightwood was officially 18. Having just started college, he hadn’t made many friends. Not that he was a very popular kid in high school, either. His birthday parties were always planned by Isabelle, his sister. He never even knew half the people there. As annoying as those parties were most of the time, he did miss Izzy and Jace. At least with them around, he didn’t have to spend his birthday alone. They must have sensed this because as soon as Alec sat down to enjoy his dinner, his phone buzzed. The name “Little Lightwood” flashed on his phone. He immediately picked it up.

“Hey, Izzy!” Alec could hear loud music through the phone. “Are you at a party? Iz, it’s a school night.”

“Oh, well Jace thought it was a good idea to throw a party in your honor because you probably are eating dinner in your dorm by yourself.”

“So you threw me a birthday party?”

“Yes.”

“Without me actually being there?”

“Yes.” There was a pause. Alec could hear Izzy move through the house. The music in the background had gotten a lot quieter. “Hey, Alec?”

“Yes, Iz?”

“Did you try to talk to your soulmate yet?” Alec sighed in response. He knew Izzy would want to ask about that. She was the only person in the world who knew Alec was gay. She’d known since he was 16. Even Jace did not know this about Alec. Part of that was because Jace was the person who had made Alec realise his sexuality. Izzy was Alec’s support system, she had always had his back.

“No, I haven’t talked to him yet. I don’t even know if he exists.”

“And you’ll never find out until you try.” Another silence. “And Alec?”

“Hmmm?”

“Happy Birthday.” That was the last thing Izzy said to him before somebody came and dragged her back into the party. Alec finished his dinner quietly, all the while thinking about what his sister had said to him. He threw the now empty take out containers into the trash and headed for the shower. It was already quite late and Alec wanted to get some sleep before he needed to start putting late hours at the library every night. After his shower, he curled up in his bed but sleep did not come. Alec sighed and closed his eyes.

Hello? Alec called, to a soulmate who probably didn’t even exist. He sat on his bed, with his eyes tightly shut, sure that he had just made a terrible mistake.

***

Magnus was having dinner with Dorothea and Cat that night. Even though it was just a casual affair, he had put on a crisp silver shirt with his black dinner jacket and dark skinny jeans. When it came to fashion, Magnus never settled for less. The silver shirt complimented his gold eyes perfectly. However, he further accentuated his look with a simple stroke of gold eyeliner over his eyelids. His hair was dyed with streaks of silver. After admiring himself in the mirror one final time, Magnus went over next door.

Dinner with Cat and Dot - or as Magnus like to call them: Dotarina - was always fun. The girls never failed to cheer him up. That’s why they were his best friends. They always had his back. With them, Magnus could let down his guard. He didn’t have to be everyone thought he was. He could be himself. He’d often wondered if they were his soulmates. In a platonic manner, obviously.

“You know what, Mags?” Cat said, reaching for his hands. “Who cares if the universe didn’t give you a soulmate? I will find you one. Or you know maybe you already have one. Maybe the reason you can’t talk to them is because you’ve already met them.”

“I’m sure I would know if I had met my soulmate, Cat.” Magnus wasn’t sure if it was the drink, but talking with Cat made him feel better than he had felt in a while. “It wouldn’t feel so...mundane. It would be different.”

“Not necessarily. I didn’t immediately feel fireworks when I first met Dot. It takes time to figure these things out.” Magnus sighed at Catarina’s words and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes darted toward the clock. It was getting late. They quickly said their goodbyes and Magnus headed back to his own apartment.

Magnus soon changed out of his clothes and snuggled into bed. Just as sleep was about to take over his body, Magnus heard something.

Hello? A voice rang inside his head. It felt so familiar but still so new. Magnus sat upright, immediately knowing whose voice that was. It was his soulmate.

Taglist: @addisonsintern @quickbright @tolkienlockian @just–another–hufflepuff @literally-magnus-bane

#malec #Magnus Bane #Alec Lightwood #alec x magnus #Magnus x Alec #Magnus and Alec #soulmate au #shaodwhunters #college au

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fedyorivans-moved · 4 years

Photo

Anon I am SO SORRY for not getting to this earlier! 😭 And for deleting your asks on accident!

I had to re-upload this because I was having weird technical issues.

But I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1,142

As Simon walked to the weapons room with Clary, the words my fault, my fault, my fault repeated over and over in his head.

He knew, objectively, that it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t been the one to put the shrapnel in Izzy’s back. But she had been hit because she’d been saving him. She wouldn’t have needed to save him if he hadn’t just listened and stayed behind.

And to make Simon feel worse, it was because he’d kissed her that she literally lit on fire. He couldn’t be near her at all anymore, or he could put her in danger.

“Simon?”

A hand on Simon’s shoulder jolted him out of his thoughts. He turned and saw Clary watching him worriedly.

“Simon, are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Fray,” he said, evading the question.

Clary looked like she wanted to protest, but Simon cut her off, remembering he hadn’t had anything to drink at all today.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I just gotta go grab a quick drink.”

She nodded. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

Simon sped off, his supernatural speed allowing him to clear the institute grounds in less than a second.

He hadn’t made it a mile away when his leg suddenly flared up in intense pain. He stumbled and fell, skidding across the asphalt and earning a wicked road burn on his hands and knees.

Grimaced in pain, he rolled into a sitting position.

Simon pulled up his pant leg and discovered a small scratch, seemingly unharmful, except for the bright gold veins sprouting from it and slowly creeping up his leg.

He quickly pulled out his phone, but he paused, finger hovering over Izzy’s phone number.

Don’t be ridiculous, he thought. She can’t even come near you anyway.

Simon called Clary instead, who responded almost immediately.

“Simon?”

“Clary, I need you to come get me. Something’s wrong.”

“What is it? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine right now. But...I think I got scratched by the heavenly fire earlier...”

“WHAT? YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL ME?!”

He winced. “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll text you the directions to where I am.”

“Ok. But I’m still not letting you off the hook.”

Simon hung up and texted her quickly. Only a few moments passed before a portal opened up in front of him and Clary stepped through.

She rushed to his side. “What happened?”

He flipped his leg over to show her the golden veins.

Clary gasped. “Let’s get you to the institute. If what they said about the heavenly fire is true...”

Simon nodded. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Let’s leave quickly. That sun is scorching,” he froze, eyes widening. “Clary, the sun burns.”

Her expression mirrored his. She pulled out her stele and opened a portal. “Can you stand?”

Simon nodded, stumbling as he followed Clary through the portal.

When he came out the other side he pitched forward and would’ve hit the ground face-first if Clary’s Shadowhunting instincts hadn’t kicked in.

“Simon? Simon, can you hear me?” She called, her voice sounding muffled, far away.

“Clary?” Simon muttered, squinting. Had the Institute always been so dazzlingly bright? Also since when did Clary have 3 heads?

The room fuzzed out for and Clary shouted. “Simon, stay with me!”

“Simon? What happened?”

He lifted up his head. “Izzy?” He groaned as that movement made his leg flare up in pain.

“Simon!” He heard Izzy call out before everything faded into black.

“Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know. His leg-”

“Shh! He’s waking up!”

Simon slowly opened his eyes, squinting in the light. He lifted a hand to his head, rubbing a raging headache.

He waved weakly. “Hey, Iz. Clary.”

They smiled back, tight lipped grins betraying their anxiety.

“I’m going to tell the others that you’re awake, okay?” Clary said softly, shutting the door behind her when Simon nodded.

Izzy started forward. “Simon-”

He waved her away. “No need to worry. I bet you guys fixed me up easily.”

Simon made to get off the bed, before stopping cold.

“Izzy,” he said slowly. “Why can’t I feel my leg?”

She winced, opening her mouth like wanted to say something, before quickly closing it again.

He pulled the blanket off his legs and gasped.

One of his legs was healthy and whole. The other disappeared after his knee.

“Where did the rest of my leg go?” Simon said, voice cracking.

“Simon-”

“What did you do?”

“We had to amputate it.” Izzy forced out, choking on a sob.

“Why?” Simon exhaled harshly.

“You- you got scratched by the heavenly fire shards. It would’ve killed you. To amputate your leg was the only way we could stop the infection.”

Simon said bitterly. “Well, great. Now I get to spend all eternity in a wheelchair.”

“You don’t have to be in a wheelchair! You could have a prosthetic leg or-”

“But I’ll still be handicapped for the rest of my eternal life.” He said, cutting her off.

Izzy frowned, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes. “Would you rather we have let you die?”

Simon didn’t answer right away, his eyes darkened. “Maybe.”

“What? How can you even say that?”

“I didn’t choose this life, Izzy! I didn’t choose to be a vampire!” He snapped.

“I know. Trust me I know. But I was there when Raphael brought you back. Clary was wrecked without you,” Izzy implored.

Simon threw his hands in the air angrily. “None of that even matters because... because...”

“Because what?” She crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

Simon bit his lip, looking away.

Izzy reached out. “Simon?”

“Because now I’m not even close to being good enough for you!” He yelled. “There, I said it. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

She recoiled. “You think that?” Izzy sat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Do you really think I’m that shallow?”

Simon didn’t respond.

“Simon Lewis.” She said fiercely, grabbing his hand.

His head shot up. “Izzy- the heavenly fire-”

“Screw that,” Izzy said passionately.

He looked surprised. “Iz?”

“Simon, I know you may think you don’t deserve an amazing, beautiful, demon-slaying warrior like me.” Simon raised his eyebrows, his lips lifting a fraction. “But, up until very recently, I thought I would never find love. I thought I would never have what my brother has. But Simon, you give me hope.”

Simon’s eyes were filled with tears as he pulled Izzy into a hug.

“We’re gonna figure this out okay? Together.” Izzy said.

Simon pulled back and nodded, not trusting his voice.

She smiled knowingly. “I’m going to find out where Clary and the others are.” Before she was all the way out the door, Simon called out. “Iz?”

She paused. “Yeah?”

“You give me hope, too.”

Izzy’s smile softened, and she disappeared around the corner.

#hope you enjoyed!#it was kinda short but oh well #my writing #simon lewis #izzy lightwood #isabelle lightwood #sizzy #shaodwhunters

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