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Shadowhunter ficlets done for tumblr.

Title: Unseemly Self-education
Rating: PG-13
Words: 510
Prompt: Will & Jem, outside advice (kink)

Most of the time, it’s merely for show. Will dons his hat and steps out into the night with precisely zero intention of partaking of anything ignominious at all. But sometimes it’s real. Sometimes he truly does find himself in a den of iniquity, watching the web-footed warlock woman onstage remove her clothing one petticoat at a time. And less often, but sometimes, he takes Jem with him.

And usually, when he does, it’s frightfully anticlimactic. At most, his parabatai might blush at some of what he sees. But for the most part, while Will laps up the scandal like a kitten with cream, Jem merely acts as if it were another day at the park. Says hello to the ruffians. Politely thanks the serving maids that show too much bosom a-purpose. And waits. Ever so patiently. As if he were a parent indulging a child run rampant in a candy shop. Will thinks he hates that, but it’s not so bad really.

Even after all that’s happened, Will still expects things to be as they were. And when he drags Jem to red-lit house of devilry, he expects Jem to casually take a seat and leave him to his own devices.

But this time, it’s different. This time, his brother is paying attention. He actually watches the women on stage, and truly talks to the maids with the drinks. When they tell Jem the things they want to do to him, he does not brush them off as is usual, instead, he turns to face them, and asks them outright,

“Would you? Would you really enjoy that? It sounds uncomfortable but…”

And at once, Will feels his own cheeks turn brilliant red as the woman and his parbatai begin a most frighteningly open discussion on what—precisely—occurs between female appendages.

Will thinks for a moment that Jem might be possessed, but as he watches, he’d swear that Jem is taking notes.

As they leave, Will tugs at his own hair. He did not wish to be the one to say it. To bring it up. But this whole night has been impossible.

“Engaged, Jem! I know we were skirting propriety by coming here, but you—you—you are to be married in a fortnight’s time—!”

“Yes, Will. I know. I simply sought advice. That was all.”

“Advice? What—”

Will puts two and twice together, wishing he had not.

“By the Angel.”

Jem turns around, leaning on his cane like a gentleman truly beyond both their years.

“And Will? I would have you, er, not mention any of this to Tessa if you would be so kind.”

Somehow, despite all struggles, Will finds his tongue.

“No. Of course not. She’ll never—”

“I’ll tell her myself when the time arrives.”

And Will is then struck dumb and so completely still, that it is only Jem’s guiding hand on his shoulder that allows him to find the carriage bound for home.

It is later, when the shock subsides, that he finds himself wishing he had paid better attention to the conversation…

For education’s sake.

Title: Intensity
Rating: R
Words: 200
Prompt: Alec/Clary, Intensity

When demon breath is hot and putrid on Clary’s face, the only thing on her mind is the blade in her hand and how best she can stick it into what’s in front of her. The fact that a single claw holds both her hands down takes over everything. So she finds herself as shocked as the monster when she hears the “thwip” and the tear of flesh. And how everything goes still—for just an instant—and she can see the glinting razor-tip of an arrow poking through its chest.

Arm free. Stab, stab, stabitty-dead.

She sees Alec in the wings, as calm as a person can be when breathing so very hard and looking so wide-eyed.

Hours later, she watches those wide blue eyes fight for calm again as she grinds above him in the privacy of his room. Her arms holding down his. His back arching against messy blankets, trying to find purchase, but failing. He’s breathing hard… just as hard. Then harder.

And though there is no death on the line—no demon roars and no shattering bone—Alec’s calm breaks. He gives a muffled scream against her harsh kiss.

And in her own way, Clary saves him turn-for-turn.

Title: Introductions in Order
Rating: PG
Words: 375
Prompt: Alec/Clary from the Compulsory Butterflies 'verse...

You’re his… girlfriend?”

Clary’s heard it five times in a day. Always with a sickly—dark green?—sort of lilt to the words, and the knowledge that it’s the wrong question to be asking. She doesn’t want to talk about her father and Jonathan, but she does know it’s the questions they should be asking. They will ask them, given time.

But till then, Alec continues to surprise them all simply for having shown up with her. His sister’s voice, clear and strong like a whip—but equally mistrustful. His parabatai’s voice—cautious, vain… jealous? Difficult to tell. When Jace insults people, he’s probably not used to being insulted back. And now this person who let’s him get away with nothing is taking so much of Alec’s attention. Clary tries to curb the vitriol. She knows what Jace means to Alec. More than anyone else.

His parents… so surprised. His father somewhat relieved. She hears Alec exhale and feels his shoulders unclench a bit, but it only makes Clary tense up more. Clary knows to tread carefully there too. Alec has told her that it is but the grace of the Angel that his family is only dysfunctional, not broken.

Max is orange-pink. Pink, Clary has decided, is a good color and in her mind, Max is the “Orange” of the “Naruto” he loves so well and the hue he so favors, mixed in with the pastels of inquisitive goodness. He asks all the questions, but with no malice. Just genuine wondering.

So as Clary memorizes the way to Alec’s room, settles in at his side, and wraps her arms around him, she revels in the way he unlocks, even as he hold her tightly to him.

She whispers at his ear, “Your family loves you, Alec.”

She rubs his back, as she eases him down into the sheets that smell like shampoo and runes and arrow-feather glue and boy, “And I’m going to love them.”

Though it’s gonna take a ton of time, she doesn’t say.

But Clary’s already said what’s needed.

And as Alec whispers his sardonic “thanks” in her own ear, words fall away to rustling, the brush of night clothing, and a ticking clock.

It will be the only word they need for a while.

Title: Easier
Rating: PG-13
Words: 75
Prompt: Alec/Clary, More Butterflies

Alec wonders if in another life—a life in which Clary’s eyes were as functional as anyone else’s—she might have drawn him. If that would have been easier, somehow, than this: this torturous staying still while her fingers move in studied flashes all over his body, taking in his details so she can press them into clay.

No, he thinks. As her lips quirk up and her hands pause once more.

Easier, maybe. But not better.
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