“Hold still for fucks sake,” Alec mutters, knotting a suture in place on the wound above Jace’s eyebrow.
He’s bled a lot. Alec can still feel some of the residual panic from finding him in an alley, blood soaking his hair and face.
“I am ,” Jace grumbles back, wincing when Alec pushes the needle back into his skin.
His face is caked with dried blood. Alec can still smell it, the taste of iron stuck in the back of his throat. It doesn’t help to ebb the panic.
He hadn’t known what to think when he’d felt Jace through their parabatai bond. It hadn’t hurt, but Alec had gone cold when he’d felt a flicker of panic that hadn’t been his, a feeling of wrongness washing over him.
Seeing Jace bloody on the floor had scared Alec more than he’d like to admit.
Jace winces as Alec pulls the suture through the wound again.
“What’s got you in a mood?” Jace asks suddenly.
Alec breathes in deeply once but it doesn’t do anything to help the way his anger flares.
“What’s got me in a mood ?” He asks incredulously, “You could have gotten yourself killed.”
Jace looks up at him.
“But I didn’t.”
Alec bristles again. Ever since everything with the owl, Jace has been disappearing only to walk head first into danger without a second thought. Without backup. Without Alec .
“That’s not the fucking point,” Alec snaps, “you can’t just walk solo into danger whenever you want.”
He sighs, cutting the suture and checking to make sure he’d gotten the wound fully closed.
“You forget that there are people who care about you. Even if you don’t,” Alec says under his breath.
That seems to strike a chord in Jace because he freezes and then brings a hand up to his forehead to brush at the newly done stitches.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, looking at Alec contemplatively. As if he’s never considered the fact that Alec might be worried every time he disappears for hours on end.
Always scared that this will be the day Jace doesn't come back.
“I know you feel like you deserve it,” Alec says quietly, because he knows. God he knows how it feels to know there’s blood on your hands, even if it wasn’t really you who did it, “But that wasn’t you.”
He knows it sounds empty and hard to believe. Alec thought the same thing when he heard it said to him. It’s not going to fix the guilt eating him alive. But it’s all Alec can say.
Because the truth is, Alec doesn’t know how to fix this.
a quick study on magnus' perspective towards his birthday, with respect to his newfound mortality
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Read on AO3 or below the cut xx
Birthdays have never held much weight for Magnus - it’s difficult, to consider it anything special, with the life he's led.
Every year he marks the date that Ragnor had chosen for him, December eight (because Ragnor always insisted that it was important to mark it, as an event, for the barest hope that he won’t get swept away by the ceaseless passing of time, that he’ll have some sort of anchor to hold onto), but he doesn’t go out of his way to celebrate it. He’s not like Ragnor, he can’t celebrate time as though it’s a gift, and he most certainly doesn’t need the reminder, of all the tragedy his existence has brought others, of all that time has taken away from him.
It’s more than a little jarring, for his birthday to come around with so much meaning, now that his immortality is gone, and the friend who’d brought him the day along with it.
Magnus wakes up to an empty bed, which seems pretty on-par for how he already feels about the day. There’s a small, foolish part of him that hopes it won’t set the tone, but he doesn’t have a lot of faith in it - he can’t.
A lot of his decisions are made in that vein of thought, these days. He can’t afford to be careless, can’t take risks the same way that he used to, because there’s no safety net to catch him if he falls, no quick-fix for his mistakes.
It’s made him a lot more cynical - he’d thought he had already hit his peak, but it appears as though there’s another mountain after it, with nothing but clouds of pessimism before him.
There haven’t been many respective upsides to his new, mundane way of life; Alec, bless his beautiful heart is trying as best he can to help Magnus feel better, but there are some cold patches that not even his warmth can reach.
(Still. They say it is the thought that counts, and Alec’s dedication is almost as strong as his follow-through.)
There’s a slight rap on the door, a two-knuckled knock that allows Magnus a few seconds to pull himself up into a sitting position before Alec is poking his head around the corner, tousled hair in disarray, a hesitance to his gaze.
“Good morning,” Alec smiles, and it’s like the break of the sun’s rays through stormy dark clouds, splitting and warm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake.”
Magnus shrugs his left shoulder, running a hand through his tangled bed-hair. He misses the ease of the most simplest tasks the most, he’s discovered. The ability to fix even the slightest inconvenience with just a quick snap of his fingers-
“Surprise.” Magnus doesn’t force a smile, just lets it sit, distant but there .
He knows that he couldn’t get through this without Alec, and it’s that knowledge that makes the sacrifice worth it; he’d do it all over again, without question.
(He’d go to unthinkable lengths for Alec.)
“I thought the surprises were supposed to be up my sleeve.” Alec comments, crossing the room. “This is your day.”
“Can’t we share it?”
Alec shakes his head, fondness lighting him up like his atoms are made of affection. “Afraid not.”
He leans in, cupping Magnus’ cheek and kissing him, patient and soft, from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Happy birthday,” he whispers, pressing another kiss to Magnus’ cheek. “Thank you for being born.”
Magnus curls his hand around Alec’s wrist. “You say that as though I had a choice in the matter.”
“It doesn’t matter to me - just that it happened.” Alec drops another kiss, this time to Magnus’ temple, an aching tenderness to the touch. “I love you.”
Magnus rests his forehead against Alec’s. “If you really loved me, you’d get back into bed - that position can’t be too comfortable for a giant such as yourself.”
“I’m supposed to be cooking you breakfast.” Alec murmurs, his gaze hooded - he skips over the giant comment, and Magnus isn’t sure if he should feel grateful; it’s meant to poke fun, for Alec is quite clearly not a giant, nor even that much taller than Magnus, but it wasn’t carried by all that much humour.
“Then again, it was also supposed to be a surprise.” Alec admits, after a moment, his voice just above a whisper.
“Burning down my kitchen is a peculiar gift, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
Alec hums, a slip of laughter escaping between his parted lips. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Breakfast is actually something I can cook pretty well, I used to do it for Izzy and Jace all the time. Training with an empty stomach never ends well.”
Magnus tips his head back, looping his arms around Alec’s neck. “Now you’ve spiked my curiosity. What did you have in mind?”
Alec grins, opening his eyes slowly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Ah, now that I can still keep a surprise.” He kisses Magnus again, relaxed and measured, before pulling back. There’s something, more than just kindness in his gaze, more than just consideration to the tugged-up corner of his smile. “I know that birthdays have never been a highlight for you - they’re not my favourite events, either. But this is the first time I get to celebrate with you, and I … I want to make this a good day, if you’ll let me. But only if you’ll let me.”
Magnus’ heart aches for how much he loves this wonderful man before him; it’s impossible and undeniable, all the same. “Breakfast sounds lovely.”
Alec nods, and Magnus thinks that he would have agreed even if he wasn’t hungry - Alec needs something to do, a task to focus on, to pour all of his energy into, and even something as everyday as making breakfast appears to put more iron in his veins, strength and determination taking over from his worry.
He does that, a lot. Worry. About Magnus, especially, now that he’s magic-less. Mundane. Empty.
It’s sweet, if a little overbearing at times, but Magnus knows that is just Alec’s nature - he needs to feel useful, to help wherever he can. If making breakfast makes him feel like he’s doing something, then it’s hardly a chore for Magnus to indulge him; after all, ensuring that Alec is okay is pretty much all that Magnus has the energy to care about, these days.
There’s a stranger in the mirror.
His skin is pale, his cheeks sunken, his mouth a tight, thin line, a shadow in the background of his gaze, flickering and dark. There’s no cat-eye slit, no gold, no spark. Just a plain, normal brown. Nothing extraordinary, nothing special, nothing magic .
Magnus doesn’t recognise the man in the mirror, though they wear the same face, and move the same way. It’s been a month - or, maybe two, time is slippery these days - but he can’t seem to reconcile his new life with who he’s always been.
Alec seems certain that he’ll get his magic back, one day. Catarina insists that he’s mourning what he’s lost; both agree that he’s going through a period of inevitable grief. Yet, neither of them, in their infinite wisdom, have ever been as critical towards Magnus as he is.
Pity is easy. It’s maintaining faith, in himself, most of all, that’s the hardest - being a warlock is all he has ever known, and even with all of the trouble it’s brought him, all of the near-death experiences, the passing of his mother, the countless losses he’s endured … his magic is everything. Or, it was .
It is, he believes, the worst loss he’s ever experienced; in a way, a part of him has died, and he has to learn how to begin again, how to exist without this vital part of himself. It’s exhausting, in more ways than one, and Magnus is losing out on hope that he’ll ever return to any semblance of who he used to be.
He wants to, because living as a ghost is no life to live - he just, doesn’t have the same fire anymore. Not even his many years of experience have taught him how to deal with this new life he’s found himself in.
Celebrating his birthday feels like going through the motions of somebody else, somebody he’s expected to be, not who he truly is - but, then, Alec is putting so much energy and love into this that Magnus can’t find the strength to admit it.
If nothing else, this will at least be a good day, because Alec is here, and he’s smiling, and those are two of Magnus’ favourite things in the world.
“See? No smoke.”
Alec looks so immensely proud of himself, with his whisk-taker apron, an old gift from Isabelle he’d recently dug up, tied around his waist. It’s hard not to smile.
“I’m very impressed.” Magnus tugs his robe closer, part of him wishing it would serve as a binding to keep himself together as well. “So, what is on the menu?”
Alec nods towards the table, which is laden with immeasurable goods. “Croissants, both almond and chocolate, from Elsie’s; raspberry and white chocolate mini-muffins that I made yesterday; and blueberry pancakes with maple syrup. And coffee, of course.”
“Best not to forget the most important part,” Magnus acknowledges, in a distant voice, too swept up in pure awe.
Alec did all of this … for Magnus.
“Alexander, this is - too much.” Magnus’ hands tremble against his abdomen. “You didn’t have to go to all of this effort just for me.”
“I was in the mood for pancakes.” Alec winks, but his carefree attitude doesn’t last long, his grin fading into something more melancholy, but no less sincere. “I wanted to do this for you, Magnus. You deserve this - you deserve everything. I’m just trying to give you what I can.”
Magnus shakes his head, an undeniable lightness soaring within him. “You, my love, are all I need.”
Alec’s cheeks burn a fervent pink, but he doesn’t back down, either. “So, I went to all of this effort for nothing?”
Magnus glances at the spread of breakfast foods, ignoring the tiny pang in his chest. Relationships take effort, a tiny voice whispers in the echoes of his dark mind.
“Not at all.” Magnus summons a smile, and by some grace of the universe, it doesn’t fail him. “Alexander, this is wonderful, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
Alec shrugs, running a hand through his messy hair. “It’s your birthday. This was the least that I could do.”
“You say that as though it isn’t a respectable feat,” Magnus nods towards the table. “For the organisation required, if nothing else. It means a lot to me, Alexander. Thank you.”
“Well,” Alec busies himself at the coffee machine, the low whir serving as background noise for his floundering. “I’m glad you - appreciate, it.”
Magnus walks towards Alec slowly, not wanting him to be spooked, yet also not being able to withstand the distance for much longer. He loops his arms around Alec’s waist, tucking his head against Alec’s neck, drawing what little strength he can from the surety of Alec’s shoulders and the warmth that radiates off him.
Alec gives Magnus the sense that he can take on the world, when he barely has the energy to even get out of bed. And then he makes breakfast .
“Hi,” Alec whispers, slipping Magnus’ ‘M’ mug onto the metal tray. “You’re very affectionate this morning, you haven’t even had any breakfast, yet.”
Magnus drops a kiss to the hinge of Alec’s jaw. “Did you lace it with a love potion or something?”
“As if I know anybody that would give me one of those,” Alec quirks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting up in a tiny smirk. “I’m just trying to figure out what has gotten you so - cuddly.”
He doesn’t mention that Magnus used to be touchy, before, much more than this, that he’s always been the more tactile partner in this relationship - he doesn’t mention any of it, but he doesn’t have to.
Magnus is re-learning how to touch, without the buzz of energy under his skin, the zap on contact, the warmth that sparks when his magic recognises the person he’s touching - he’s learning how to push past the emptiness, how to keep it from dragging him under the weight of his own sadness.
This is a big step, and he hates that it’s such an accomplishment for him to hug his own boyfriend, but he’s also not going to ignore the fact that it is, for him, quite the milestone.
“I’ve missed you,” Magnus explains. “ This. Us, in this way. I know that I haven’t-“
Alec’s hand curls over Magnus where it rests against Alec’s hip. “You haven’t been through just an ordinary bad day, you’ve had your entire sense of being stripped away. You don’t owe me, or yourself, or anybody else anything , okay? You set the pace, and I’ll follow as closely as you want.”
“I always want you right beside me,” Magnus murmurs, burrowing his face against Alec’s cheek. “I'm just worried that I might be … holding you back. Holding us, back.”
Alec gently nudges Magnus’ shoulder, turning in his arms until they’re facing each other, his hands coming up to wrap around Magnus’ neck. Magnus, after a few hesitant and heavy seconds, rests his hands on Alec’s waist, his fingers bunched up in the fabric of his black t-shirt.
“Magnus.” Alec’s gaze skitters across Magnus’ face, his sincerity strong enough to drown in. “I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that - what you’re going through is awful, and I won’t pretend that I know what it’s like because I don’t , but I can promise that I’ll be here to help you in whatever way you need. This is an obstacle, probably the biggest one you’ve ever had to overcome, but still an obstacle - you’ll get through this, because you’re the strongest person I know, and far bigger than anything that wants to keep you down.”
Alec strokes his thumb against the curve of Magnus’ ear, his cuffs long since locked away with the rest of his jewelry. “All the same, it’s okay if it’s not easy. It’s okay if you don’t want to get out of bed, if you hate the world, if you want to invent a time machine just to go back before everything went wrong - that’s okay. It doesn’t mean that you’re going backwards, or going stale or anything like that.”
Alec’s smile turns wry, and a little deprecating. “It just makes you human. Sorry, it kinda sucks, sometimes.”
Magnus shrugs, his hands tightening their grasp. “It’s not all that bad, I suppose. I’ve got you by my side, after all. Things could be a lot worse.”
Admitting it aloud lets a slow realisation sink in; being human, as Alec put it, is his new normal, and things could really be a hell of a lot worse.
He still has Alec by his side, and with that support behind him, he can do anything.
the last few hours blur together in his mind, the concrete still pressed coldly against his back. on some level, he knows he’s been moved, knows he’s no longer bleeding out on the street. the arrow had been taken out, everything’s been bandaged & runed, but why... for some reason his head is still floating, his thoughts unanchored. he drifts below the surface a little longer before he finally pulls himself out of it & opens his eyes. groaning as he sits up, he feels every shard of pain lance through him like a hot knife but that’s not important. Magnus had been there, had gotten to him before Jace had left to go to Clary. everything after that is even more of a blur than he’d like to admit but apparently even his eidetic memory rune can’t hold up all the time. looking around, he feels a flutter of panic. ‘ Magnus - ? ’
(This is in an everybody lives/stays au post season 3a)
Imagine the pack come together to celebrate something and Stiles gets hilariously drunk while everyone else is still tipsy.
Stiles becomes extremely open, honest and very touchy. There is absolutely no brain-to-mouth filter at all. He starts waxing lyrical about how he loves Scott and how much he loves being his bro while hugging him. He calls Issac an arsehole but he likes him anyway. (He also spends ten minutes entranced with Issac’s curls.) He spends twenty minutes trying to convince Erica she is his platonic soulmate and that she is so beautiful, he wants to cry sometimes while patting her hair. (She is very touched.) No one is quite sure what he said to Boyd but it makes him laugh. He is brutally honest when he tells Cora she scares him but he admires her so much. To Lydia, he tells her that he is so happy they are friends and that she will always be the leading lady in his life. Stiles and Jackson are almost bantering which is just funny in itself since Stiles is able to outwit Jackson even when drunk. At one point, he climbs on the table and announces that he loves all of them so much.
Then Stiles spots Derek.
At first, it’s still hilarious. Stiles starts telling Derek he thinks he’s wonderful and smart and so loyal and so pretty! (Erica is dying in the background.) Derek is not sure is he should be insulted especially when Stiles starts patting his beard and telling him it’s the prettiest beard he’s ever seen even if Derek looks like he wants to bite his face off. He tells Derek that even if he’s a grumpy Sourwolf, he loves him anyway.
It’s less hilarious when Stiles starts hugging him and apologising earnestly for everything he’s done to Derek from digging up Laura to implicating him in her murder to that time he mentioned that thing about Jennifer being the second he dated. (It only makes sense to Derek when he says that last one.)
It’s even less funny when Scott moves towards them to take Stiles to go sleep off the drinks and Stiles jumps in front of Derek. He points at Scott, telling him he doesn’t trust Scott around Derek anymore. Hasn’t since Gerard. He doesn’t trust that Scott won’t take advantage to Derek like everyone else in the room.
It’s startling sobering when Stiles goes around the room, still attached to Derek’s arm and standing in front of him, protecting him, telling each of them something shitty they did to Derek and how he knows they never apologised for it. Cora and Issac take the shortest time to scold. Scott takes the longest.
No one is laughing when Stiles says stubbornly, in that openly drunk way, that while he trusts them with his life, he doesn’t trust them with Derek’s.
There is silence when Derek takes Stiles home to go sleep off the alcohol. No one is smiling.
Bonus: The Sherriff is home when Stiles and Derek arrive. It’s a very awkward scene because Stiles is drunkenly trying to convince Derek that what Kate did wasn’t his fault. That he is a good person. That Stiles really is sorry for bringing it up when Jennifer was discovered. Things start making so much horrifying sense to the Sherriff even if Derek doesn’t look him in the eye when he repeats “The fire wasn’t my fault.” at Stiles’ insistence. It’s sobering when Stiles drunkenly pats Derek’s cheek and tells him, “I know you don’t believe that but it’s okay.” It’s makes so much heartbreaking sense.
tl;dr: Stiles is an honest drunk and starts telling everyone off for all the shitty things they did to Derek, including himself. The Sherriff finally finds out how Kate managed to set the fire when Derek brings Stiles home,
Hi guys I'm looking for a fic (post nogitsune I guess) where Stiles is depressed and going out of his mind. He asks Derek to beat him/be rough with him and Derek is reluctant at first. But then Stiles comes up with some kind of pro/con list of why they should make a deal and how both can benefit from it. From what I remember, they met in the woods. Run, chase, fight. Got caught by some passerby then Derek finds a more secluded place for their late night meetings. (Hale's family secret place or something.) I'll be eternally grateful if you guys can help me out. ♡
M/M and a bit of F/M. Okay, I lost this fic sometime ago and I am desperate to read it again. Stiles is a BAMF (badass) how has a cattle prod or something like that. He rejects Lydia a little in the beginning, when she tries to convince him (think: flashes him a bit, tries to get him all hot and bothered) to do something. Stiles realizes he is actually very toned because of the running with the wolves. Then in the school locker room he sees Jackson staring at him. Later, Stiles being back at his house, the pack comes because something happens with the alpha pack. He tricks them into thinking he is going out do another thing, the downside being someone of the pack has to go with him, when he is really going to go alone against the alpha pack. Jackson goes and Stiles is driving. Some slash happens and Jackson ends handcuffed to the cars steering wheel. Stiles gets to the Alpha Pack and wreaks havoc, killing one of them with his cattle prod and mountain ash. Yada, yada.... He goes back home.... The pack though he was kidnapped. Yada, yada.... What's left of Alpha Pack comes and tries to take Stiles as a member since he killed one of their own... Stiles refuses and ends up flirting a bit with (I think) Kali.
M/M and a bit of F/M.
Okay, I lost this fic sometime ago and I am desperate to read it again.
Stiles is a BAMF (badass) how has a cattle prod or something like that. He rejects Lydia a little in the beginning, when she tries to convince him (think: flashes him a bit, tries to get him all hot and bothered) to do something. Stiles realizes he is actually very toned because of the running with the wolves. Then in the school locker room he sees Jackson staring at him. Later, Stiles being back at his house, the pack comes because something happens with the alpha pack. He tricks them into thinking he is going out do another thing, the downside being someone of the pack has to go with him, when he is really going to go alone against the alpha pack. Jackson goes and Stiles is driving. Some slash happens and Jackson ends handcuffed to the cars steering wheel. Stiles gets to the Alpha Pack and wreaks havoc, killing one of them with his cattle prod and mountain ash.
Yada, yada…. He goes back home…. The pack though he was kidnapped. Yada, yada…. What’s left of Alpha Pack comes and tries to take Stiles as a member since he killed one of their own… Stiles refuses and ends up flirting a bit with (I think) Kali.
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confessedlyfannish says
Did a little searching, think you’re looking for this?http://archiveofourown.org/works/551483/chapters/982576
