divine complement

Anniversaries Should be Sprinkled with Laughter

A/N: In honor of National Tickling Day, here’s some Malec! *throws confetti*

It was their six-month anniversary and Alec Lightwood had the absolute worst gift for the warlock who had everything (and if he didn’t already have it all it would take is a simple snap of his fingers and he would have it). He had gone to Jace for some advice and Jace suggested….well, Alec preferred not to think about what his parabatai had suggested. Alec could feel his face heating up as he briefly recalled the extremely short conversation. Izzy hadn’t been much help either. She wanted to take Alec…shopping. Alec barely suppressed a shudder. Shopping with Izzy was about as bearable as eating her cooking. Alec just knew that his boyfriend (which, wow, boyfriend) was probably planning something extravagant and what Alec has to offer would pale in comparison.

It was nearing 6 p.m. and Alec knew that if he was late to Magnus’ the warlock would worry. He had dressed in dark jeans (not black thank you very much) and a gray v-neck shirt. Magnus loved bright colors, but he admitted once that gray was flattering on Alec since it brought out the blue of his eyes. Sighing, the Shadowhunter grabbed the small box and slipped it into his pocket and left for his date.

His phone was ringing after two steps out of the Institute. The walk to Magnus’ wasn’t long, but for some reason Izzy liked to ensure that either Jace or herself called and talked to Alec on his way there.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking alone.” Alec said in way of greeting. “I am a full Shadowhunter.”

I know, but Alec listen, I have the BEST gift idea!” Jace’s voice filled the phone.

“No! No! I do NOT need to listen to anything.” Alec protested, glad that he used a glamour rune so no mundanes could see his red face.

Just start with a massage and–

“Jace, by the Angel, please stop talking.” Alec groaned, picking up the pace.

And once he’s comfortable take off your shirt and–

“I am NOT going to take off my shirt!” Alec shrieked, his face burning.

Jace tskd. “Prude.”

Alec said nothing, just hung up his phone and jogged the rest of the way to Magnus’ apartment. He rang the doorbell twice.

Magnus opened the door and Alec’s throat went very dry. The warlock had a pair of leather pants that hung low on his hips that were decorated with a sparkling gold studded belt, a dark-haired happy trail peeked out by close to three inches, if not more. He had a vest on that was bright gold that cut off right above his belly button, leaving an expanse of skin for Alec to feast his eyes upon. Magnus had on limited jewelry this time. A thick golden key hung from a chain and landed right over the button on his vest. Magnus’ eyes were just as gold and sparkly as his vest and belt. It seemed as if black and gold was the theme here. From his sparkly golden eye shadow to the gold frosted tips of his hair. 

But oh did he look good.

“Hello Alexander.” Magnus greeted. 

“H-Hey Magnus.” Alec stuttered. Magnus smirked as he turned and summoned Alec to follow with nothing but his finger. Alec complied instantly, knowing the warlock knew what he was doing to the Shadowhunter.

“You l-look amazing.” Alec told him, reaching for Magnus’ hand. 

“As do you. I love the v-neck.” Magnus told him. The warlock snapped his fingers and suddenly two drinks appeared in each hand. 

“To us.” Magnus toasted. 

“To us.” Alec repeated. 

The two took a drink and Alec winced slightly. He still wasn’t quite used to drinking.

“You look divine darling.” Magnus complemented. Alec felt his face flush at the words. 

“Thanks.” He mumbled. 

Magnus reached out a hand and placed it on Alec’s cheek. The Shadowhunter locked eyes with the warlock.

“These past six months have been like a dream for me Alexander,” said Magnus. “I am so very happy and hope that you too, are happy.”

“I am!” Alec answered quickly, fumbling a bit as he went to grab Magnus’ hand back. “I am happy. You…you make me happy.” 

Magnus smiled fondly. “I’m glad. I worry sometimes because you smile so little.” 

“I smile.” Alec defended. 

Magnus chuckled. “Yes darling I know. I just feel as if you should smile more. And that is why I have gotten you this.” Magnus snapped his fingers again and suddenly there was a small box wrapped in what Alec could only assume was rainbow vomit colored paper. 

Alec slowly took the box and unwrapped it carefully, inside was a very normal looking key, compared to the one that hung around Magnus’ neck. 

“What’s this?” Alec asked. 

“It’s a master key to my apartment,” said Magnus. “It opens every door, including the front one. Mi casa es su casa mi amor.” 

Alec’s throat suddenly felt tight as he looked at the present that Magnus had gotten him. It was more than just a key to his place. It was a key to Magnus’ life. 

“I…I don’t know what to say…” Alec stammered. “I uh…thank you. Wow.”

Magnus chuckled. 

“No, really, thank you. This,” Alec held up the key. “This is amazing. You’re amazing.” And then he was surging forward and kissing Magnus with everything he had. Magnus sighed and wrapped his arms around Alec’s neck. The two pulled apart slowly, peppering kisses in between before Magnus held out his hands. 

“What?” Alec asked. 

“Don’t ‘what’ me Alexander. Where’s my present?” Magnus chastised. Alec laughed at that. He couldn’t help it. Magnus loved getting presents, but suddenly Alec’s gift for Magnus seemed overwhelmingly lame. 

“You don’t want it. Trust me.” Alec groaned just thinking about it. 

“I most certainly do want it. It’s for me and it’s from you, so I want it.” 

Alec shook his head. “No, trust me. Give me a few days and I’ll get you something better. This is dumb compared to what you gave me.” 

Magnus sighed. “Alec, darling, it’s because it’s from you that it’s special.”

Alec snorted. “That is a very cheesy line.” 

“Fine, then allow me to start demanding what’s mine.” Magnus said. 

Alec quirked a brow at his boyfriend. The Shadowhunter wasn’t used to listening to demands. It was usually him making them. 

“Alexander Lightwood. Give me my present.” Magnus stated, his voice low and commanding. It sent a shiver down Alec’s back, but not from fear…from excitement.

Oh but two could play at this game. 

“Make me.” Alec challenged. 

Magnus’ cat eyes flashed and a wicked grin grew on the warlock’s face. 

“Oh how I intend to.” 

Alec wasted no time and dashed toward the back room, but he was stopped by a force field of course. 

“Cheater!” Alec accused as he turned to look at his boyfriend. 

“Give me my present.” 


Magnus gave him no chance to try and run again as he shot his hands into the Shadowhunter’s ribs. 

“Magnus! Nohohohohoho!” Alec let out a peal of laughter as Magnus tickled him senseless. Magnus’ fingers were everywhere. And wherever his fingers weren’t, his magic was. Alec was being tickled everywhere. He slipped to the ground the moment Magnus’ magic touched his knees. 

“Mahahahahahagnus! Pleeheeheehease!” Alec arched his back when Magnus’ bent down to dig into his hips. 

“Oh I think this is my present.” Mangus crowed. “A blushy, giggly, ticklish Shadowhunter all to myself.”

“Shuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhuhuhuhup!” Alec pleaded. Magnus’ teasing was making the tickling so much worse. 

“Your hips are so very sensitive aren’t they?” Magnus asked as he raked his fingers over the exposed bones. 

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAA! YAS!” Alec screeched, drumming his feet on the carpet and trying to throw Magnus off of him. 

“But you’re most sensitive spot is your ribs.” 

And suddenly all of Magnus’ magic was concentrated on his ribs. Alec was no longer coherent about anything at all as he was tickled within an inch of his life. There were tendrils, fingers, feathers, and jolts of ticklishness in every single one of his ribs. It was unbearable.


“Are you going to give me my present?” 


Magnus stopped his attack and laughed softly. “Oh you look absolutely delicious Alexander.”

Alec moaned and hid his face in his hand as he grabbed the small box out of his pocket with the other. 

Magnus grabbed it and opened it enthusiastically. Alec sat up but purposefully looked anywhere but at Magnus. Suddenly there were fingers on his chin, turning his face toward Magnus. 

In his hand was first picture Magnus and Alec had taken together and on the back of the photo were three words scrawled in Alec’s atrocious handwriting. 

“I love you too Alexander.” 

Alec grinned as Magnus pulled him in for a kiss. 

anonymous asked:

@ the new anon - YES. Pretty sure it's safe to say Jumin loves him. Mr. Executive Director isn't one to show extreme emotion such as it, but he loves Saeran very much and Saeran's feelings for him are mutual if not greater. Jumin is... Saeran's everything: his happiness, his sanity, his home. And Saeran is the one person in Jumin's life who listens and trusts and is genuine with Jumin and his feelings. They don't have a label, but a fitting term is that they're each other's divine complement.



When someone adores you, in their appreciation of you they’re in alignment with source energy and they are flooding it all over you. And since its activated in them its activated in you, so you’ve got this really good thing going.. But then as you become dependent upon their appreciation of you in order to feel that way - when they withdraw their appreciation of you, and you haven’t learned to connect to that source energy yourself, then you feel like a puppet that someone has let go of the strings. And so if you’re a confident person, if you’ve shown yourself that you’re free no matter what anyone else thinks, and that you can feel good no matter what’s happening around you, if you’ve been practicing that unconditional love that says “I’m going to feel good because I wanna feel good, and I’m gonna scramble around by darn, and find something that’s gonna make me feel good even in a field of things that don’t feel good, because my connection to source matters to me more than all other things put together” - then nothing that anybody could ever do would set you off your game.

Your Inner Being is always guiding you toward what you are wanting. It is never protecting you from something else.“

~ Abraham-Hicks

You may not realize why everything is happening and occurring just yet, but later on in your journey you will. In the meantime, keep elevating, growing, letting go, moving forward, flourishing and vibrating higher daily. No matter what occurs in your life- honoring, nourishing and sharing your love and light from a higher vibrational place, is vital to the process and supports and complements the divine order that is always working for your {highest good.} Trust the process. Bless the process. Trust the timing of your life. Stay light in heart. Allow who leaves. Give thanks and honor for who stays. Respect and honor your spirit enough to allow and trust the sacred process….everyday. -Lalah Delia | Vibratehigherdaily

As usual, it was Peeta’s fault.

Katniss would’ve thought that Christmas was Peeta’s favorite holiday— all generosity and good will towards all— but Madge knew it was Thanksgiving. Spending the whole day cooking and the whole night with everyone he loved was literally Peeta’s idea of a perfect day. And by “everyone he loved” he meant everyone even if they were actually really sort of acquaintances or just people who were loved by people that he loved— mainly, Gale Hawthorne and his family.

Peeta really wanted Katniss to spend Thanksgiving with him but she hated the idea of not attending Thanksgiving with hers and Gale’s families, as they always held joint ones. So, of course, he eagerly told her that they could combine Thanksgiving’s.

Katniss was skeptical, but once Peeta eagerly told her mother about it, she and Hazelle Hawthorne eagerly agreed to let Peeta take over the cooking, and they would bring some side dishes to contribute.

And Peeta, knee deep in holiday spirit and knowing that Madge’s family was small, invited hers to join them as well. After all, what was a few more people? It was just Madge, her parents, and her aunt and uncle. What could go wrong?


A frazzled Madge opened the door to a grim faced Gale Hawthorne and Katniss Everdeen. “Gale, Katniss,” Madge greeted, pushing back a blonde curl from her face. “How are you?”

Gale raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong, Princess?” He asked. “I thought Peeta was the one cooking.”

Madge spread her hands out and shrugged. “I’m helping,” she said. “Kind of.”

“Helping as in reigning him in,” Katniss said, rolling her eyes and rolling up her sleeves. “How complicated has the menu gotten?”

Madge winced. “It snowballed,” she said. “He’s started speaking French completely, I think. At first I thought it was merely French food and French cooking techniques, but I think I’ve completely lost him now.”

The women sighed. Once Peeta began speaking another language it was all over. No matter how hard they tried to tell him to simple things, his imagination would always run wild and soon he would become so engrossed with cooking it was likely they wouldn’t be eating until the next morning.

“I’ll go distract him,” Katniss said, stomping into the kitchen.

Madge and Gale winced. They’d walked in on Katniss ‘distracting’ Peeta before.

“Well,” Gale said, adjusting the cooler he carried, undoubtedly filled with the drinks he’d been saddled into bringing. “I guess it’s just you and me, then.”

Madge smiled weakly. “I guess so.”

Peeta’s family knew better than to interfere with him in the kitchen, so they decided to all get started on Christmas shopping early. Madge volunteered to come early and help set up, anyway, as thanks for the Mellark’s hosting, and Gale and Katniss volunteered as well (the latter more than the former, but once the former’s mother heard about the intentions of the latter she volunteered her first born.)

Madge directed Gale to what needed to be done. Madge, being Peeta’s best friend, had come over to the Mellark’s for special occasions often enough to know where the extra chairs, the nice tablecloths, and the good China were.

They worked quietly, although occasionally they would look up at the other and smile. They always had a weird, not quite comfortable, dynamic, and lately it had only been getting weirder. Gale had gradually become considerably warmer to Madge, especially since Katniss and Peeta started dating, and Madge was slowly learning that Gale— despite what she had thought for years— didn’t hate her, after all. On the contrary, he… what? Liked her? Respected her? Admired her? Or maybe, even—

Well. It was too soon to know for sure. And as they literally and figuratively danced around each other, setting up chairs, ironing out table cloths, arranging plates and napkins, Madge cleared her throat in the quiet. There was something she needed to tell him.

“About tonight,” she said, and he looked up quickly, grey eyes intently and rapidly fixed upon her. Sometimes his attention was disconcerting because she could feel his focus. “There’s someone who you haven’t met yet who is coming, and, uh, Katniss and Peeta have met him, but, um, I just feel like I should tell you a bit about him before he gets here.” Their families were all due at any moment.

Gale stilled, his gaze shuttering. “New boyfriend, Undersee?” He said coolly.

Madge blanched. “Oh, god, no!” She said.

Gale’s shoulders and face relaxed. Then he frowned. “Then who are you talking about?” He asked. “I’ve already met your dad…”

Three hearty knocks sounded. “You in there, sweetheart?” Someone bellowed.

Madge sighed. They were here. “My Uncle Haymitch,” she said flatly.


Madge loved her Aunt Maysilee’s husband, Haymitch. He was gruff and blunt, but he could also be very sweet. Apparently when he was younger he was quite wild, but had mellowed in his older age. One thing he couldn’t quite give up, though, was drinking. He wasn’t what Madge would call an alcoholic— he could get through days without alcohol. It’s just that when Haymitch Abernathy let loose— only on special occasions— he was a downright embarrassing drunk. Even worse, he still retained his sharp mind and even sharper tongue, losing any of the meager inhibitions he had over either in the first place.
And Madge knew, she knew, that her uncle would pick up on the weird energy between she and Gale and would comment on it— harp on it, even. He was fiercely protective of her and she just didn’t need that tonight, not when she and Gale hadn’t really defined what was going on between them, and not to mention with all of their families there that night.

Madge didn’t know what she was going to tell Gale that wouldn’t induce a premature talk about the status of their relationship, but she supposed any warning was better than, well, none.

Luckily for Madge, the dinner went off without a hitch. Remembering a segment from The Today Show about how to seat difficult Thanksgiving guests, Madge seated herself and Gale as far away from Haymitch as she could, placing him closer to the sour faced Mrs. Mellark, who really only could be endured drunk.

Peeta’s food was divine, of course, complemented beautifully by the side dishes from everyone else’s families. Feeling at ease and happy, Madge leaned back in her chair, fingering her wine glass, cheeks flushed and a lazy smile on her face. Gale grinned at her from his spot next to her, his eyes sparkling.

“Hey!” Haymitch boomed suddenly. Everyone froze, blinking, turning to a very clearly inebriated Haymitch, who, with red cheeks and disheveled hair, glared at Gale. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Gale frowned. “Excuse me?”

Haymitch hiccuped, then waved his pie fork menacingly in Gale’s direction. “I’ve been watching you all night,” he said, waving Maysilee away impatiently, as she huffed, “Oh, Haymitch, put a sock in it!”

“No, Woman,” he said, “I’m not just going to let some, some hooligan make eyes at our niece all night the way he’s been doing!” He eyed a young Posy and Vick, at least having enough sense to merely allude to the way he thought Gale was looking at Madge. “What are your intentions, Hawthorne?”

Madge wanted to slip under the table and disappear. She pinched herself, hoping she would wake up from this nightmare. She didn’t. “Oh, my god, Uncle,” she muttered. “Please, don’t.”

Haymitch narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t even get me started on how you were looking back,” he threatened.

Madge closed her eyes. It officially got worse. She didn’t want to look at Gale, or any Hawthorne— well, or anyone, really. She was even avoiding the questioning, but kind, looks from her own parents.

“My intentions?” Came Gale’s voice, cool as a cucumber. “I think that Madge should hear my intentions before you should, don’t you think?”

Haymitch shot back, “If your intentions are honorable, it shouldn’t matter who hears them first.”

Madge opened her eyes and found that the table was mercifully divided three ways, between looking at her, Gale, and Haymitch. No one wanted to interfere. Even smart-ass Rory was silent, although Madge knew he was probably seconds away from cracking.

To her surprise, though, Gale was looking back straight at her, a small, almost sheepish smile on his face. Guess we better make the most of it, it seemed to say.

I am so sorry, Madge hoped her face conveyed.

Gale cleared his throat. “All right, then,” he shot a cool eyebrow at Haymitch, “since you clearly won’t let this go.” He turned back to Madge. “I like you, a lot. You’re kind and smart and funny and so, so beautiful. If you give me a chance, I want to date you.” He smirked at her a little. “Character references, if needed, can be found anywhere at this table. What do you say, Princess?”

Madge couldn’t hold back her grin. “I’m in,” she said. “And I may have to take you up on those character references.”

This caused the table to relax, chuckling, and Rory even began clapping, the little smart ass.

Gale’s hand found Madge’s under the table and squeezed, their eyes shining into each other’s. It was a good Thanksgiving, thought Madge.

On the other end of the table, Haymitch leaned back, a full glass of wine, congratulating himself on a job well done. He knew Madge had been mooning over this Hawthorne boy for months, and he was damn sick of it. If no one else was going to push those two together (let alone the two in question) then he figured it might as well be him.

He sipped his wine. It was a good Thanksgiving.