Repeat after me:I am amazing and fabulous for liking/reblogging/giving my opinion about/constructively criticising Jahnavi’s fics.Now go get yourself a cookie because you guys are the literal best.
Moving on,my bae-tas(wink wink)(sorry) @ghostiemakingposties and Shradicool (still insufferably in possession of her good sense) are angels in disguise(or not in disguise) that is the only explanation sorry I don’t make the rules.
This one is again,if you didn’t pick up from the title already,super sappy but bear with me.I have plans .
Read,like,share,comment,ask,eat,drink, sleep,swim,open that Club Penguin account you’ve been avoiding for 10 years,watch some SpongeBob,sit on a swing,idk you keep doing you fam.
Also,I am now on ff.net and ao3 as
beating-thump-thump and beatingthumpthump respectively and I ramble a lot less on there,so if less talk more fic is your thing, they’re just a hop,skip and jump away.
Spread the love y'all!
Magnus Bane loves having the ability to do magic. He really does.
Nothing beats being able to get the remote from the coffee table after he’s sat down and forgotten it or being able to fix a last-minute eyeliner mishap with just a flick of his fingers.
(Not to mention, Alec gets this look in his eye whenever he does magic and when that happens, Magnus knows there isn’t going to be much talking between them for the next few hours.)
(At least not the sweet, innocent kind.)
So yes, Magnus loves being able to solve life’s greatest crises (and turning on his boyfriend) with only a small gesture.
He loves having a job where he literally gets paid just to cast a few spells.
But Magnus Bane loathes the paperwork involved.
Everything will be going swimmingly, and he’ll be going about his job, content and happy as ever, when this one customer shows up and throws a wrench in this wheel of satisfaction.
It’s happened without fail, repeatedly, from when Magnus first set up shop (figuratively, because that sounds like a super tacky thing to do and Magnus Bane is by no means tacky.)
That one person will pitch a favour at him and Magnus will agree to help even if he can’t recollect exactly how to do it at the moment; there’s no way in hell he’s turning something down because he can’t do it. He’ll figure it out, thank you very much.
Except, the figuring out bit is always harder than it seems.
The nights he spends poring over his spell books and consulting with Ragnor and Catarina see him cursing himself for ever taking up the job because What on earth is this?
This then gradually leads to him spending an increasing number of hours indoors which makes him cranky.
However, Magnus Bane never gives up.
How many ever cases like this he’s faced, he’s never not solved the problem. He’ll either find the bloody solution or he’ll die trying.
(Or, you know, he’ll fall asleep on his desk without removing his make-up which is almost as disastrous as death.)
(Plus, he has something to live for now apart from his fellow downworlder friends.)
Which is why Tuesday night sees him on his work-table, frustrated (not the good kind) and sleep-deprived (not for the good reasons).
He’s clueless, glitter-less and Alec-less and the three are a bitch of an issue to deal with separately, let alone together.
He vows to himself that once he’s done with this crap (whenever that is) he’s going to treat himself to a spa day because he deserves it, goddammit.
It’s close to the time when Magnus turns in, but he catches something out of the corner of his eye on the page which looks useful and this leads him on this whole other chase, flipping from book to book, referring to past notes and relevant facts.
His eyes are droopy and his head keeps lolling in front, but he can’t stop now, okay?
This is most solid lead he’s had in days and he’s so close and the thought of being done with this infernal crap is just so appealing and he just wants to get it over with.
He fights to stay awake but slowly, slowly his head dips and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.
It’s a losing battle and soon, in the warm golden haze of the lights and to the calm silence of the apartment, Magnus lets his head hit the top of the book on the desk with a thud, asleep even before he can make it all the way.
The constant sounds of the city that never sleeps accompany Alec on his late-night journey from the Institute to the loft.
He’s just about done with Valentine’s bullshit and he can’t take another second at a place where there’s this constant speculation and doubt and this air of trepidation hanging around.
He just needs to get away.
Alec has a few places he goes to when he needs to crash for a break, but the loft has become his favourite safe-house to sleep in.
(Or not sleep in, whatever. It’s all quite splitting hairs at this point.)
He sees Magnus’s building and the sight instantly relaxes him.
He climbs up the flights of stairs and keys open the door.
The vision he’s greeted with makes him stop breathing for a second.
There, at the centre of his desk, lies Magnus’s head in the middle of this apparent hurricane of books and paper.
His eyes are closed and his hair’s fallen onto the table, hiding the top of his forehead.
His face is bare and he lets out soft noises as he breathes in his sleep.
Alec knows he’s been working on a particularly difficult case and he’s come to the loft at nights to see Magnus working hard, but he’s never seen him asleep at his desk.
The whole setting is so peaceful and serene and the lights throw this aura of warmness over Magnus and Alec is sorely tempted to take a picture.
He ends up just standing there for close to a minute, just looking at his boyfriend, before he snaps out of it.
He walks towards the sleeping warlock and gently picks him up with both hands, bridal style.
(His heart warms just a bit when Magnus nuzzles his head onto his chest.)
Alec carries him to the room and lays him on the bed. He climbs in behind him and together, they lie down, one asleep,the other almost there.
A shadowhunter and a warlock.
One hundreds of years old and the other barely at 20.
Both tangled together, pressed so close, you can hardly make out where one begins and the other ends.
They’re wrapped around each other’s bodies, unconsciously curling into each other.
Alec lets Magnus’s comforting warmth lull him to sleep and as he’s about to drop off, he hears a muffled I love you and all he can do is tighten his arms around the man, pull him impossibly closer and hum in response.