1 - 20 of 102 Bookmarks
Navigation
List of Bookmarks
-
Tags
Summary
It took them a few minutes to realise they were sleeping on each other's side of the bed, and when Magnus rolled onto his side and slid a hand beneath the pillow that was meant for Alec's head, he felt a solid object. “What's this?”
-
Bookmark Collections:
-
Bookmark Collections:
-
Bookmark Notes:
Wonderful
-
Bookmark Notes:
«dear diary
he said he'd do me pro bono.»
Magnus choked, a laugh spurring out of him as he squeezed Alec closer to himself. “Minx” he muttered.
Alec shrugged. “You did.”
“I did. And I did. Pro bono.”
“Magnus!”
.
Alec smiled, the pain in his throat subsiding as Magnus thumb flipped through the pages till a slip of paper leafed out.Alec grabbed it and scrunched it up in his hand. “Let's skip this one” he said nervously.
Magnus nodded. “Of course. Just know I'd never judge you.”
The words were like a spell and the next second Alec was handing the paper to Magnus, who laughed lightly and took it.
"Let's see..” His eyes skimmed the paper quickly, Alec doubted he caught the words. But then again he's been alive for centuries, he's fluent in thirty six living languages.
Alec's thoughts were cut off when he was gathered in Magnus' arms, kisses peppering his face and arms squeezing tightly around him. “My Shakespearean hunter” Magnus gushed.
Alec puffed a sigh, trying to act annoyed, but he failed when a smile snuck to his lips and made Magnus' own grin stretch further. “Don't call me that. I was thirteen.”
A few minutes later, Magnus and Alec were asleep in each other's embraces, lights turned off and the diary cast aside.
Magnus had banished the slip of paper to his album, just above the photos they had taken in Japan.
A reminder of what Alec had been before he met Magnus.
«my quota of pain was staying in that grey breadth between tranquility and disquietude. between the immersion of words and the potency of silence. between the vanquish of my soul and the stoicism of my façade, and between the tyranny of my secret and the safety of its secrecy, as if sheltered by a roof made of thorns.»
