freakypumpkin:

Hey 🙂 first of all, thank you very much, I’m happy you enjoy my tmi fics. Okay, for the prompt, I tried and I hope you’ll like it. I didn’t go big with the making out because it didn’t really fit and I should have gone to sleep about an hour ago. I just hope it’s okay. 🙂

“An aerobic class?”, Alec asked, suspiciously looking at Magnus while pursing his lips against the rim of his cup of coffee. “And no runes?”
Magnus nodded, swallowing a bit of his croissant. “No runes.”
“Why?”
The warlock only shrugged which made Alec even more suspicious.
“What are you up to?”

Magnus rolled his eyes at him. “Nothing, darling, I promise. I just want to spend some time with you, now that those demon floods have finally calmed down a bit. I mean, I’ve barely seen you these past weeks, apart from you sleeping like a rock next to me. And well, as we have found out that you don’t do good with calm activities during these phases – don’t give me that look, Alexander, remember that last attempt of a picnic last week? You couldn’t sit still and had that nervous twitch in your right eye. I just thought that something like an aerobics class would be fun.”

Alec’s expression had softened during the short monologue. Guiltily he bit his lower lip and stared down at the coffee. It was true. Jace, Isabelle and him had been working overtime these past weeks and Magnus hadn’t once complained or made a face when Alec had to leave after only a brief visit which had mostly consisted of him being knocked out cold on the couch.

“Okay”, he said eventually and simply the grin that instantly spread on Magnus’ lips made him glad that he’d done so. “But what’s with the ‘no runes’-thing?”
Magnus shrugged again. “Call it scientific curiosity.” Suddenly the broad smile on his lips was slightly unnerving.
-+-
Alec had never thought much about shadowhunters being dependent on their runes. They were just always there. Now they weren’t. Well, not all of them. He still had the parabatai-rune, the voyance-rune on his hand (mostly covered beneath fingerless gloves) and some others – nothing for balance or agility and such though – but he still felt naked … and clumsy. His forehead still hurt from tripping over the carpet and head-bumping the door on his way out of the bedroom. But then again, he could be clumsy with the runes on as well. The thought of falling down the stairs after his first date still made his cheeks burn. He didn’t care how many times Magnus called it ‘utterly adorable’. He was a shadowhunter, he shouldn’t fall down stairs for any reason. 

“You ready, darling?”, the warlock’s voice sounded from the loft’s door. Alec sighed heavily and finished tying his boots.
“Coming”, he called back and then joined Magnus at the door. His boyfriend had packed a bag for both of them with sweats and some shirts, two water bottles, the right shoes … whatever was needed for an aerobics class. It wasn’t like Alec would have been able to know what was needed for it himself anyway.
“I still feel naked and … weird”, he muttered darkly when he walked past Magnus taking the first step. When he was halfway down the stairs, Alec noticed that Magnus wasn’t following him. The warlock was still standing at the top of the stairs looking slightly conflicted. 

“You know, if it makes you that uncomfortable to go without the runes … you can take your stele with you”, he said. “I don’t want to force you into doing something you don’t want to, I just thought it would be … interesting, you know? Doing something without weapons strapped under your jacket, without runes meant for battle covering your skin … I don’t know, but if-”
“It’s okay.” Alec felt bad for being overdramatic and making Magnus feel guilty for his own discomfort. Yes, it was weird going out without the usual runes beneath the clothes, but it wasn’t that bad. Magnus still looked unconvinced gnawing the edge of his bottom lip, a habit Alec wondered if his boyfriend had picked it up from him.

Taking two stairs at once Alec got back up to Magnus again. Magnus didn’t move backwards and so Alec ended up pretty close in front of him when he took the last step.
“Don’t worry, okay?”, he whispered, a smile spreading on his lips. Then Alec pressed slow kiss to Magnus’ lips bringing up his hands to carefully framing the warlock’s face. “Now let’s go before I can fall down those stairs a second time.”
Magnus grinned and Alec felt his boyfriend’s arm around his waist. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.”
-+-
Aerobics shouldn’t be that big of a challenge, Alec had thought. Because hey, he fought demons for a living, he’d went through tough training since his early childhood, not to mention that neither Jace nor Isabelle went easy on him during their almost daily training sessions.
Turns out, mundanes had found a whole new way of torture in the meantime. And all of it to the rhythm of music, most of the time it was a pretty simple rhythm, but Alec had already driven his parents close to desperation when he’d tried to learn dancing along with his siblings. He simply had no sense for rhythm or moving with said rhythm at all.  

Fortunately the room was big enough with enough other participants that Alec and Magnus could kind of hide in the back. Alec tried, he really did, but with the addition that he was lacking his balance and agility runes, it just wasn’t possible for him to keep up with the very animated young woman in the front. He kept tripping over his own feet, loosing balance and falling against Magnus, who as promised always caught him. 

First Alec was frustrated because this shouldn’t have been too hard for him, but then he saw Magnus smile at him, giving him a thumbs up from the corner of his eye and he realized that this wasn’t about mastering some skill or appeasing his parents. There was nobody standing on the sidelines judging him, only Magnus who would catch him no matter how badly he’d mess it up.
From that point onward it began making fun. 

Alec found himself mimicking the movements of the woman in the front with more vigor – at least the arm movements, whenever feet were involved there was the risk of breaking an ankle – making overdramatic faces and almost managing to crack Magnus up. He simply allowed himself to be a silly teenager who royally sucked at something he was doing. It felt good.
So when the lesson ended, Alec turned to Magnus with his hands at his hips. “See? I totally owned this.”

Magnus threw his head back and laughed out loud making some of the others turn their heads, but nobody said something. “Yeah”, he chuckled and ruffled Alec’s hair, “yeah, you did indeed.”
-+-
They took the subway back standing close to the doors. Alec had buried his face in the crook of Magnus’ neck still chuckling at his utter failure. “Angel, I can’t believe it.” He took a deep breath and looked up at his boyfriend who had raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Without the runes I suck.”

“No, you don’t, darling”, Magnus muttered with a fond smile. He reached up to cup Alec’s right cheek and gently moved his thumb across the pale skin. “Nobody’s good at everything, but that wasn’t important today anyway.”
Alec leaned into the touch, nuzzling the warm hand like a cat. “Then what was the point today?”, he asked, his voice slightly sleepy from the unusual workout.
“You had fun, right?”, Magnus whispered, sudden insecurity lacing his words.
“Sure”, Alec said, his eyes now big and questioning.
“See?” Magnus leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the tip of Alec’s nose. “That was the point.”

Alec blinked a few times in confusion which was seemingly enough of a question and a reason for Magnus to clarify his answer. “You’ve been so stressed and tense those past weeks, you slept, ate, fought, got injured, got healed and when you were lucky you got some more sleep before you had to go out to fight some other demon again. I just … I wanted to break that circle, wanted to give you a moment when you’d be too occupied by something else to worry about the rest of the world and I hoped you’d have fun doing so, not worrying for maybe an hour or two, without weapons, runes, all that stuff. Physical workout just for the sake of physical workout, not to build stamina for fights or learning new ways of handling a knife.” Again Magnus chewed at the edge of him bottom lip, his eyes nervously searching Alec’s face. “I was worried”, he finally mumbled.

Alec had never been one with a thing for PDA, but right now he didn’t care. He threw his arms arounds Magnus’ neck and kissed him with everything he got. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, it was actually just their lips pressed together, but it was like a hug only more. There was no movement necessary to convey their emotions, only closeness was needed.
They almost missed their stop.
-+-
"I still totally suck at aerobics”, Alec mentioned that evening when they were sprawled across the bed, their legs tangled and with Alec propped on his elbows so he could look down at Magnus. Magnus only sent him a lazy smile.
“No, you don’t”, he said as his left hand followed the line of Alec’s spine, moving slowly up and down the shadowhunter’s back. “You totally killed it. Nobody could have done it like you.”

Alec smirked and narrowed his eyes at the warlock. “Don’t mock me.”  
Magnus’ hand settled at Alec’s hip. Then he leaned up and made Alec roll on his back.
“I would never mock you.”
Whatever clever remark Alec had ready for that statement was lost between lazy kisses that grew heated, exchanged for pleading whispers that instead left Alec’s lips. He still made Magnus swear the next morning that he’d never mention a word about the aerobics class to any other person.  

-+-

Good Night :3

freakypumpkin:

I’ve been watching the two first episodes of Marco Polo. :3 This is what happened in my brain at the same time:

Magnus is the son of the emperor Asmodeus. Alec is the son of an influential family who have fallen in disgrace. His parents were executed, his sister made a  part of the harem, Max stays unharmed and Alec was send to work with the weapon’s master. After a few years the master dies and Alec took his place, but he isn’t allowed to enter the army and always stays under close surveillance.

The emperor starts to take a liking to Alec for his cold eyes and honest words. Magnus finds himself drawn to him as well, though for different reasons. 

Then it’s either the case that Asmodeus wants Magnus to perfect his fighting skills under Alec’s tutelage or Magnus simply becomes a more frequent bystander to Alec’s training sessions. Either way Magnus realizes slowly that Alec reacts to his presence and tries further advances. 

Also, while Asmodeus thinks that his son is quite useless, Magnus is actually quite skilled when it comes to potions and powders, but he does keep it a secret for a reason.

-+-

“Not every fight is won with weapons and violence, you know”, Magnus said as he looked up from the floor where Alec had him pinned down. The unwavering gaze if the other’s blue eyes were a heavy weight. Pale lips pressed into a thin line and a knife, cold as those eyes caressing the skin of his throat, right below Magnus’ chin. 

“A lot of them are.” Alec’s voice was calm. His hands didn’t shake. He was barely out of breath while Magnus’ chest rose and fell visibly with every exhausted breath. He still smiled up at the black-haired man who haunted his dreams for the past weeks. The floor beneath his shoulder blades was hard and he could already feel bruises blooming on his arms and legs. Still, without the knife Magnus wouldn’t have minded the position that much. 

He smiled. Fortunately Alec hadn’t grabbed his wrists. So, he could slowly move them up the other man’s legs which braced his hips as he began talking again to keep Alec’s attention:
“Sure, but most fights are’t even accounted of. I mean, what about the concubines, mistresses who whisper into their lover’s ears.”
Magnus’ hands reached Alec’s hips, brushing against bare skin, making Alec jump. But before they could move up further, the one hand not occupied by the knife grabbed Magnus’ right one. Still, Alec couldn’t stop both hands without giving up the weapon. Magnus’ smile grew wider.
“Whole cities, kingdoms have fallen to words of lovers, wars in court only fought with touches, whispered wishes, longing looks.”
Alec’s face was guarded, but Magnus could feel the shudder moving down his spine, his gaze wavered, his breathing became heavier – if only a little bit – as Magnus’ left hand moved further up his chest, fingertips dancing over strong muscles covered by scarred skin. When the shudder reached the tip of the knife Magnus took the risk of slowly sitting up. 

He could see that he was getting under Alec’s skin, but he didn’t care. He had the situation under control and he finally got what he’d wanted to do for the past weeks. He’d always been watching that body move from afar while dreaming of following the lines of those scares with his fingertips, covering them in soft kisses, finding the places that made Alec close his eyes in pleasure. It wasn’t exactly the situation he’d imagined, but he could work with it.

“Those fights nobody talks about, but everybody knows. Everybody is shackled by their desire.” A subtle thrust with his hips drew a surprised gasp from Alec’s lips and with one swift movement Magnus got his one hand free from the others grip. The sound of the knife hitting the wooden floor was loud in the silence of the room. Magnus sat wholly up, moving his other hand to Alec’s back to keep him as close as possible. The other’s lips were only inches away. He wanted to kiss them, he’d finally get to –

A soft burn bloomed on the one side of Magnus’s neck. He didn’t have to turn his face to know it was another knife wherever it had come from, smaller, easier to hide. Now Alec was the one smiling. His breathing was still heavy, but his eyes were clear as glacier water. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Magnus’, a featherlight touch, leaving Magnus aching for more.

“You’re right, we are all shackled by our desires”, Alec whispered, his warm breath tickling Magnus’ skin, making him think of a completely different scenery. “But even a shackled man can beat a soldier.”

-+-

As I said, blame the show ‘Marco Polo’.  

ilikeyouxactually:

Oh heavens, this is too adorable. Enjoy! ❤

Being in a relationship was exhausting. Trying hard toplease the other person’s parents, trying to keep your partner happy, andtrying to keep yourself happy. It was a lot going on. Too much going on. Or at least, that’s what Connor would think if
he were actually in a relationship.

It
all started two weeks ago when Oliver’s mom came to town. They had been going
on a few dates, taking things slow, everything was perfect. Until she came.
Connor arrived at Oliver’s apartment with a frantic Oliver, pacing around the
floor. “She thinks I’m in a relationship,” Oliver explained between heavy
breaths. “I told her we were together, because I thought we would be by the time she came, god I’m
so stupid.” And seeing Oliver like that was absolute torture. Wracking his head
around this, trying to figure things out. Connor had to do something. He had
to.

“What
if we pretend we’re serious? Put her at ease?” Connor had offered without even
thinking. They hadn’t had sex since before Connor cheated, and things were
still rocky, still sensitive. They still sat on opposite ends of the couch,
didn’t hold hands, and especially didn’t even kiss. Their last kiss was over a
month ago when Oliver had him pinned against the wall with his sudsy hands
clutching his face tightly. That was the last time. And every night since then,
Connor could still feel those soft lips ghosting over his own.

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leosfitz:

This ended up being a continuation of the 1×11 make- up scene “you kissed me…”  Hope you enjoy it!

“I more than like you! Damn it…” Connor watches Oliver stumble over the words, his mind still reeling from the kiss. Soap drips down his ear from where Oliver had cupped his face. “Like…you know the way that you can’t do drugs?” Connor looks away, flinching at the lie. “That’s how you are for me.” 

“We can…We can take this slow.” The weight of Oliver’s words, their implications, scares Connor. Both of them, dancing around the word love like an elephant in the room. “Just…I don’t trust anyone in my life right now except you.” Connor looks up and meets Oliver eyes, now brimming with tears. 

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ramblesandreblogs:

ramblesandreblogs:

So…this is what happens when Dina and I talk about how different Connor and Oliver are when they drink….I can’t believe I’m actually posting this. I have no standards anymore…..

---

Dina: (also, can you imagine these two drunk? Connor being all “you’re so cute and make me feel all these things inside and I want to keep you forever” and Oliver going “yeah, yeah, feeling’s mutual, but now take your clothes off”)

Jules: OH MY GOD!! I NEED THIS NOW!!!

Jules: WRITE THIS DINA!! WRITE IT!!

Dina: Connor can’t even get drunk with Oliver now

Jules: DAMMIT!

Jules: That ‘addiction’ is ruining everything!!

Jules: Just make it a no murder, everything’s still happy AU. Like…

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sugary-bowl:

Oliver didn’t do this type of thing, ever. He didn’t pick up
guys in bars, hell, he rarely even went to bars. But then this guy, this
beautiful beautiful man had smiled at him. Of course then he’d bought him a
drink, laid on his best lines, and thrown that wink at him. But first, he had
smiled. That was enough to do Oliver in. And now here he was, with this guy –
how old was he? The place carded, so he wasn’t worried about that, but why was
this hot twenty something even interested in him and why had he agreed to come
home with him? And why was he – holy mother of God what was he doing with his tongue?

–

Connor always did this. He always picked up guys when he was
nervous, and tonight he was nervous. So his year off had turned into three
years and ten countries and a few months in his sister’s house before she
convinced him that it wasn’t too late to get back to school. Before she’d told
him that now that he had well and truly crushed his father’s dreams of a lawyer
in the family, he could go and study something he actually wanted to learn
about. But he was nervous, he couldn’t help it, so he walked into the nearest
bar and nursed a drink for hours passing on guy after guy until someone
unexpected caught his eye. He wasn’t one to go for the wallflower, but this
man, there was something about him. Something about the way he lowered his eyes
instead of blushing, about how he licked his lips when he was thinking of what
to say without making the gesture grotesque. Just something about the guy that
made him calm, which was exactly what he needed today.

–

If Oliver was honest with himself he needed this tonight,
just this. Just the complete abandon of someone pinning him down with a gentle
sort of control. Oliver knew most one-night stands to be quick rough selfish
things, but Connor (and goodness Oliver was never going to forget his name)
Connor wasn’t selfish in this at all. He just held him with a sort of barely
restrained strength, like he didn’t have to worry about anything because
everything was under control. Oliver knew one-night stands weren’t things you
were supposed to have nice warm feelings for, but he couldn’t help the way
Connor’s lips against his collarbone felt like not-quite-empty promises.

–

“Fuck.”

There’s a clock next to him, not his own, the numbers are
bright blue and huge instead of angry short red ones. He fell asleep, he stayed
over, and he remembers choosing to do it. He remembers tying off the condoms
and putting his underwear back on. He remembers looking over his shoulder at
the man’s (Oliver, why did he remember that his name was Oliver?) soft un-expectant
expression.

He remembers climbing back into bed and reveling in the
warmth of Oliver’s skin, the smell of sex on the sheets, the sensation of arms
wrapping around his waist feeling more pleasant than restricting. He remembers
kissing him for hours and hours, remembers muttering that he had an 8AM class
tomorrow and Oliver saying he had to be up early as well. He remembers the way he
had looked ready to say goodbye, and the small smile when Connor burrowed
further into the sheets, the one that reminded him of a clear sunset.

The sound of Oliver’s alarm is oddly pleasant, a hum that
becomes louder with each minute but doesn’t induce cardiac arrest. The bed is
empty, but still warm. A sticky note tells him that the alarm has been reset
for 7, there’s coffee in the kitchen, please leave the key under the matt, and
would you like to have dinner with me?

Connor grabs the coffee and his pants. He considers leaving
and never looking back. He saves the number at the bottom of the note into his
phone and gets ready to head out. He turns back into the room one last time and
takes the note, presses it into his pocket, careful not to crumble it.

–

Oliver hates leaving, but he hates the idea of waking Connor
up even more. He thinks, if this is the last time he ever sees him (probably)
he’d rather remember the night this way, the gentle rise and fall of his
breathing, how perfect he looks with the sheets all pressed up to his cheek. He
resets the alarm so Connor won’t be late to class, it’s probably his last year
or semester, and Oliver knows how much those classes count. Way more than his
own introduction to probability course, which he hates. He hates teaching
underclassmen who don’t want to take any math course, much less this math
course. He misses his early morning Intro to Programing, his lovely borderline
sociopathic coding babies. He’s going to demand that class next semester.

No one likes math outside the C.S. department, especially
not at Middleton College. Maybe he should ask Connor what it’s like going to
Middleton U, where he probably goes. He looks like he goes there. Looked like he
went there. Oliver is never going to see him again.

When he greets the class, glancing quickly over the top rows
to check out who has already passed out, he gets a groggy mess of good mornings
and mornigndghs from the half-conscious class as he sets up the transparency on
the projector. He write the course number and his name in large block letters.

“If you’re in the wrong class, don’t worry, we’re very
forgiving on the first day of class at 8 in the morning.”

About seven people shuffle out of the auditorium but most
everyone else remains settled. He keeps his eyes up on the middle students, but
mostly on the transparency and his syllabus and tries to focus on his actual
job and not the dream he left back home.

–

The most annoying part of his sister’s fantastic plan were
the pre-requisites. He’d barely gotten through half of those, so now he was a
22 year old in an Intro to Probability course, a 200 student lecture filled to
the brim with people who were still battling acne. This was a mistake, he
should go back to Bolivia, they love him in Bolivia and he hadn’t needed a
degree to teach there. Well he had, he needed one if he was going to help any
of the people he’d met, that was why he was here.

He takes a front row seat, something most teenagers are allergic
to, leaving him mostly alone with his coffee and his print outs of the first chapter
(he wasn’t going to spend a cent on textbooks this time, especially not now
that he was on his own dime).

The auditorium is at a dull roar when the professor finally
walks in and Connor has that cardiac arrest he managed to skip that morning.

Oliver hasn’t set eyes on him. It’s not that quick glance
and hard panic he might have expected, Oliver honestly walks into class in a
daze, gets behind the podium and starts scribbling on the overhead in a calm
soothing voice that isn’t going to startle any of these people awake. A few of
them straggle out of the classroom after they realize this class isn’t even
theirs and Oliver still hasn’t noticed Connor there. Maybe he should have snuck
out with them, maybe he should go before Oliver spots him, and maybe he’s
really well and truly fucked because when Oliver takes a deep breath and
finally smiles at the class.

“I hope you’re all starting to wake, my name is Oliver
Hampton and I’ll be your instructor for the semester. I promise to make this as
painless as possible.”

I doubt that, Connor thinks to himself and the moment Oliver finally sets eyes on him sitting in the first row of his 8am class he knows that this semester is going to be heaven or hell and no where in between. 

ramblesandreblogs:

ramblesandreblogs:

This is all Dina’s fault…

“Explain to me again why I have to help you clean your car?” Oliver asks as he maneuvers a vacuum wand over the backseat of Connor’s car.

“’Cuz we’re boyfriends now,” Connor answers as he cleans out his armrest, tossing receipts and gum wrappers in an old fast food bag. “This is one of the perks.”

Oliver rolls his eyes and mutters to himself. “Still don’t understand why we had to do this on the first nice Saturday of the year.” And then louder and over his shoulder to Connor, “You know another thing boyfriends do? The dishes.”

“What? I can’t hear you over the vacuum,” Connor calls out.

“You’re an asshole,” Oliver calls back.

“Yeah but you love me anyway,” Connor says. He looks up with a knowing smirk, and dammit if he isn’t right.

Oliver smiles, in spite of himself, and turns back to the task at hand. “How does a grown man with no children get so many crumbs on the backseat of his car?”

“I watched my sister’s kids over Christmas,” Connor answers as he moves on to cleaning out his glove box.

“Taking them for the day only explains about half of these. And you haven’t cleaned your car since before Christmas?”

“It wasn’t for the day. It was for the week.” Connor’s response is absentminded as he digs through old paperwork. Which is his newest insurance card and which can get tossed? “They were off school and I was home. Seemed silly to have her take off work or get daycare or something.”

“You watched your sister’s kids for a week?”

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myoliverhampton:

Sometimes he forgets.

They’d sit together, eating popcorn and watching some movie Oliver rented and they’d be laughing and having a good time then he’d ever so slightly reach over to hold his hand and he’d pull back.

Like the mere thought of them touching would kill him. He’d see the way Oliver shakes ever so slightly and tries to not take it personally. He knows it’s not him. He knows it. It’s not really him he’s rejecting but he can’t stop the bitter burn that settles in his stomach.

“I’m tired.” Oliver would say, and he’d know this was his cue to leave.

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horchatita:

Note: I mean blame Meg entirely for this. I’m sorry I didn’t feature our shirts in this, consider it the backstory for the t-shirts, okay? Also I left the featured song up in the air but if you care my personal pick was I Want You to Want Me by Cheap Trick (recognizable to a 23 year old because of that one Julia Stiles movie).

The most fantastic thing about this is that it wasn’t Oliver’s
idea. He gets to keep this one nugget of embarrassing information about himself
quiet, because it wasn’t Oliver’s idea to go to a karaoke bar – oh no – it had
been Asher’s. So he doesn’t have to feel embarrassed about how much he’s
enjoying the whole thing or about how enthusiastic he is about leafing through
the song book on their table or about how bummed he is that his cousins aren’t
here because it isn’t a Journey song without them.

He is trying to keep his cool cover though, so he sits dutifully
by Connor’s unimpressed side and makes small soothing motions with his thumb on
Connor’s hand every time he takes a sip of his diet coke.  He must have so much will power, especially when
everyone else is plastered.  Oliver doesn’t
know Connor’s friends that well, but he gets the feeling that Laurel and
Michaela wouldn’t be so into Material
Girl and each other if they weren’t both a half dozen shots in.

Oliver’s been subtle, he really is, and he isn’t even
jotting down the numbers of the songs he’s dying to sing – not even. But now
Connor is looking at him with that stupid little sly smile of his like when he
catches him humming while he’s making scrambled eggs and he looks entirely too
pleased with himself.  “Going next,
Oliver?”

So he chokes on his soda a little bit, Connor’s voice has
side effects when it’s all low and conspirational like that. “Me? Nah. No. Me?
No.”

“You’re singing,” Connor assures him, “come on, you’re
looking at Laurel and Michaela like they’re made of chocolate and I know it’s
not them you’re lusting after.”

“Say I do…go up.” Oliver plays idly with Connor’s too long
sleeve. “Will you come with me?”

“Oh no.”

He’s not pouting, not even a little bit but he does scoot
closer to him. “Connor please?”

Connor laughs until he realizes how serious he is. Oliver is
serious about karaoke, okay, if Connor wanted to be with him he had to
understand this.“No!”

“Fine,” he shrugs to embolden his bluff, “then I won’t go
up.”

Connor rolls his eyes. “But you actually want to.”

“But it isn’t any fun on your own unless you’re really drunk,”
he lies, “and I’m drinking sprite in solidarity.’

“Are you guilt tripping me?”

Oliver cracks a smile and takes another sip of his soda. “Maybe.”

Just then Asher downs another beer and slaps his palms on
the shaky bar table, “Alright suckers, who’s next?”

Connor grins, the beautiful demon. “Oliver is.”

“Hacker boy, my man!” Asher says with the level of
excitement that can only be reached about acquaintances after three beers.

“I – “

“Go on,” Connor says too loudly as he nudges him with his
shoulder. “Indulge the birthday boy.”

“Alright.” He finally
agrees, that’s a good show of resistance right? No one will know how down for
this he is? “But I will make you sing.”

Connor rolls his eyes again and shoves him away. “The mic is
waiting Ollie.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Connor knew since he told Oliver what Asher – the idiot –
wanted for his birthday that Oliver was really really excited for reasons he
could not even remotely understand. He could tell by the way Oliver momentarily
resembled his nephew Tyler finding out he was going to Disney.

But now, now Connor can see what the crazy shine in his eyes
was about and he is both impressed –so stupidly impressed – and really fucking
annoyed at that drunk banker trying to make Oliver’s rendition of some song he
vaguely remembers from middle school into a sleazy duet. But Oliver, Oliver is possessive
of his mic and really good at this singing and Connor wants to get him home and
away from all that asshole throwing his fat arm around Connor’s boyfriend.

“Bro,” Asher stage whispers, interrupting his morbidly
homicidal thoughts, “your boy can sing. YEAH ROLLIE POLLIE, KILL IT!”

Oliver does in fact, kill it. So much so that Michaela looks
impressed through her drunkenness and Laurel keeps clapping every time Oliver
takes a breath. When the song and the lyrics on the screen both come to an end
Connor doesn’t really know how it is that he got to the front of the little
stage. All he knows is that Oliver is laughing and God, how long has it been
since Oliver laughed? Too long, it should never be more than a day. He pulls
him down but the belt hoops and kisses him, deep and possessive and very turned
on.

When he pulls away Oliver is out of breath, the stellar
karaoke showdown or the kiss, maybe a combination of both.

“You,” Connor mumbles against his ear, “never told me you
could sing.”

Oliver’s smile is shy and adorable as he pushes him away
from the stage. “I can’t sing, but I can karaoke like a king.”

“Let’s go home,” Connor grins, an eyebrow dancing along with
his lips, “you promised you’d make me sing.”

freakypumpkin:

Sure thing, anon, thank you very much for the suggestion 🙂 

I guess you meant this one? ‘Every time I get in a fight you patch me up but now I’m the one patching you up after you tripped on thin air’ 

Hope you’ll like it and if anybody else wants to, send me a prompt from here and I’ll write it with Malec. Not beta’d!

-+-

Magnus was a hundred percent sure that there had been something on the ground of that path leading to the school. There was no other explanation. Why should he have tripped as he hurried to his first class. Okay, he’d been late for that one, but that still wasn’t an explanation for tripping on thin air.  

Fortunately there had been only one other student around to see Magnus’ gloriously face-planting into the ground, ruining his pants, bruising his hands and knees and spilling his coffee. On a second thought, maybe it hadn’t been that fortunate because he had to be Alec Lightwood, the one student he kept lecturing about getting injured in fights every other day. More often than not Magnus found him in some quiet corner or the boy’ bathroom patching himself up or trying to do so. Magnus had even started to bring band-aids and disinfectant to school after two weeks. Alec always rolled his eyes at him, but let Magnus patch him up nonetheless. 

Now Alec was kneeling in front of Magnus, who had taken a seat on a bench nearby, trying to clean the bruises on his knees because Magnus refused to go inside looking like this. He had even attempted to simply go back to his car and drive back home to change and cover the bruises. With his infamous glare Alec had ‘suggested’ that he’d first take care of the worst of Magnus’ encounter with the ground. However, that didn’t seem to work very well as Alec kept breaking into fits of laughter, rather leaning on Magnus’ thighs than cleaning his knees.
“You’re done now?”, Magnus asked with his arms crossed in front of his chest and glaring down at the mop of black hair and Alec’s shoulders that were shaking from silent laughter . 

At least the whole ordeal happened on a day with warm weather and Magnus didn’t have to get out if his pants. That would have been awkward because over those past months that he had kept patching Alec up after his fights, he’d began to care about the guy … probably too much for his own good. 

Alec was … a lot of things. He sucked at reading between the lines when somebody was flirting with him. He loved stupid puns and could laugh at them for hours. He forgot where his next class was so often that he still carried a list with his schedule around even though the year was over in about two months. He helped younger students finding their classes. He could put up a fight, sadly he was also very good at picking fights. He had a surprising obsession with numbers and was actually pretty damn smart. He was so much Magnus hadn’t expected when he’d first met him. 

And on top of all of that he was gorgeous. With his blue eyes that often twinkled with mischief, that smirk, that easy smile, that unruly black hair. Only his pale complexion worried Magnus sometimes as he was used to his own tan, but Alec had assured him that he simply didn’t tan and always had to pay attention to the sun. He never left the house without suncream during summer.

“Come on, don’t frown like that”, Alec said now looking up at Magnus, but with his arms still crossed on top of Magnus’ thighs. “It’s going to get you wrinkles.”
“Then stop laughing at me, okay?”, Magnus exclaimed while uncrossing his arms and looking at the sky as if in exasperation, but in fact he just tried not to look at Alec in this position because it stirred something deep inside of him.
Alec chuckled. Magnus loved that sound.

“Okay, okay, but you have to admit, that it is kind of funny … I mean, usually you are the one with the band-aids and I’m the one with the bruises, the cuts … the injuries in general.” He grinned and Magnus felt himself surrendering to that grin. A small smile tugged at his own lips. “There, that’s the Magnus I want to see.”

Now Magnus could only shake his head, looking down at Alec who had tilted his head as if to dare Magnus to drop the smile and start glaring again. Magnus didn’t drop the smile, he felt his heartbeat speeding up and the smile growing wider. His lips itched to kiss that smirk of Alec’s face, but he stayed where he was. 

Then Alec finally got to cleaning his bruised knees with the help of some tissues and water from a bottle Magnus had with him. When he was finished Alec let his gaze linger on Magnus’ knees for a moment longer, to make sure that he hadn’t missed a spot of dirt. He eventually closed the water bottle again and placed it on the ground next to him.
“But I get it know, you know”, he said quietly and with an unexpectedly serious voice.

“Get what?”, Magnus asked looking up from inspecting the bruises on the plans of his hands. They weren’t as worse as he’d thought at first.  

Alec got up from the ground looking down at Magnus with something that could have been uncertainty and maybe a bit of guilt as well? Magnus’ breath hitched when Alec stepped closer to the bench, leaning down so he was suddenly very close, way closer than they’ ever gotten. Magnus felt soft fingertips ghosting over his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw.

“That worried look you always get when you clean my wounds”, Alec whispered.    

-+-

‘Fun’ Fact: A friend of mine actually once tripped on thin air in a hallways in high school and had a torn ligament. So, be careful everybody. 😀