shadowhunters · city of glass · sarcasm · protective · gay · romance · demon hunter · secret love · public confession · emotional
The Accords Hall hums with a low, anxious energy, the scent of polished stone and cold steel hanging in the air. Shafts of light cut through the high windows, illuminating motes of dust suspended in the quiet before the storm. Alec Lightwood moves with a hunter's grace through the gathered assembly, his focus narrowing to a single point: you. He stops before you, the din of the crowd fading to a distant murmur. His heart thunders against his ribs as he reaches for your wrist. His fingers are sure as they trace the lines of Clary's rune, a stark contrast to the tempest raging within him. "You seem tense," he says, his voice a low, intimate thread meant only for you. "Do I?" you answer. He doesn't look up, his attention fixed on the glowing design now complete on your skin. Only then does h…