Magnus has loved dozens of people in his long life, spent decades with them. The way Alec is looking at him holds the kind of love that makes all that had come before fade in comparison. No one has ever loved him the way Alec does, as relentless as the ocean tides. No one ever will.

Magnus Bane in One Traveler, Long Stood by thenorthface

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Magnus has always been in that nebulous role of a lover, where the definition is fluid and dynamic, a romantic connection between souls and bodies. A husband is something entirely different. The idea of being one is – it’s frightening. The idea of being wanted as one is humbling. It’s something Magnus has never considered, seen as something that could be possible in his future. But Magnus had never expected Alec – had never expected what it would mean to be loved by a shadowhunter who is a good man and a traditional one. Who loves Magnus not just between the tangled sheets of their bed, a perfect and untouchable pocket of time and space, but also in the difficult, complicated reality of the world outside the two of them that must be navigated. Magnus doesn’t expect how much he wants it.

Magnus Bane in Waiting Game by bumblebeesknees

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It’s strange, how Magnus hoards these quiet bursts of joy. As though they’ll be stolen, plucked out of Magnus if anyone but Alec knows of it. Everything still feels so – so elusive. Happy and hopeful, but also tentative. Something to nurture, to be considerate with.

Magnus Bane in Waiting Game by bumblebeesnees

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You don’t need to try so hard to be perfect. You always go out of your way to impress me, and I don’t need that. I am in love with you, all of you. […] You don’t need to prove yourself to me, and you don’t need to be perfect. You’re perfect the way you are, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.

Alec Lightwood in The Thing About Cakes… by theskyisblue

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The stars are brighter tonight, Alec notes. Maybe it’s because he feel so unabashedly happy with Magnus’ warmth pressed into him, with the way Magnus keeps leaving sloppy kisses against his pulse point, trailing down to his shoulder and his collarbone. Maybe it’s the way their mouths meet and everything becomes a little heated, more demanding, more needy, but it never truly escalates. Maybe it’s the way they push and pull, the dance they know so well by now, until they’re left breathing into each other’s spaces. Maybe the sky is happy for them. And it’s one of those sleepy, late-night thoughts, but it makes something magical bloom in Alec’s chest, right under where Magnus’ hand lies.

Alec Lightwood in Shadows in Moonlight by dandymot

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