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andtheyweredeskmates · 4 years

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Of Latte’s and Lingerie- Chapter 19

Hello this chapter was a blast to write and I love it so much. This is the beginning of the Mature rating although the mature content here is just suggestive! Anyways I’m happy and I love this chapter and please enjoy

Taglist: @toodaloo-kangaroo @catsssmeow @le-na-co

Chapter 1 - Chapter 18 - AO3

It didn’t take long for Marinette to be swept up by important people she didn’t know how to talk to. They all offered compliments and work opportunities and Marinette was positive that she needed someone to follow her around and tell her what to say because she was running out of generic professional statements.

Like magic, Audrey appeared, shoeing away what she liked to call “undesirables” and hyping up Marinette’s work to those she deemed worthy. Marinette could sense that when all this was over Audrey would take up the mantle of coaching Marinette in the ways of successful businesswomen.

After what felt like hours, she felt a hand take hers.

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing Ms. Dupain-Cheng away.” Marinette turned to see Adrien giving her peers a dazzling smile. He squeezed her hand gently and ushered her away to a snack table.

“I take it the conversation you had with your father went well,” she said. Adrien snorted.

“Oh yeah, just peachy. But enough about me. Tonight my dear-“ Adrien twirled Marinette around, “is about you.” Marinette couldn’t help but feel breathless.

“Oh,” is all she could say.

“Now, I don’t know about you Mari, but I am starving, and these snacks look delicious.” Marinette grinned.

“You have no idea. The model life is tough.” Adrien shot her a knowing smile.

“Oh I know. Now, help me pick out some snacks to steal before I decide to just eat you instead.” Marinette blushed madly and looked at Adrien with mock disapproval.

“This couple business has made you cheeky and I don’t know if I like it.” Adrien laughed as he put a handful of chocolate truffles in his pocket.

“Well I’m afraid it’s either this or puns. You choose.” Marinette giggled.

“I’ve decided cheeky is nice.” Adrien winked and looked at Marinette’s dress intently.

“Didn’t you say that dress had pockets?” Marinette nodded joyously as she instinctively shoved her hands into the aforementioned pockets.

“Then I’m going to hand you some treats, and I want you to fill up your pockets as much as you can.” Marinette nodded and began taking what looked like cookies and cheese from Adrien and shoving them into her pockets.

“Can I ask why we’re stealing these?” Marinette said as Adrien put the last cookie in his mouth.

“Becauf-“ he said, his voice muffled. He grabbed Marinette’s hand again and started to lead her away from the table. He used his other hand to grab the rest of the cookie he’d been eating and handed it to Marinette.

“We’re gonna blow this popsicle stand and go somewhere fun.”

…

Adrien turned around periodically to check on Marinette to make sure she was able to follow him with ease as they quickly rushed around the halls of the venue. It took physical effort when he turned around to see her, cheeks flushed, breathless, hair falling into her face and eyes wide with curiosity, not to stop and kiss her senseless.

But Adrien was on a mission. They turned around corners, seemingly at random until they approached a door. Adrien paused (for dramatic effect) before opening it to reveal a balcony. Marinette was speechless, though possibly because she felt like she’d ran a marathon, as she looked around to see the lights of Paris dazzling in front of her. The iron wrought balcony was just big enough for the two of them to sit together and enjoy their stolen snacks. Adrien was beaming, pulling a flask from a hidden pocket in his suit and handing it to her.

“A beverage milady?” Marinette couldn’t help but laugh. She took it and sipped cautiously and rightfully so. She made a face and looked at Adrien with her eyebrows raised.

“This is just straight whiskey.” Adrien laughed as he took the flask back.

“Exactly. That’s the only way to make it through these things.” He tucked the flask back in his jacket pocket and extended a hand to Marinette to help her sit down. She accepted it and sat down not so elegantly and began to unpack the snacks she’d stuffed in her pockets and put them on a napkin Adrien had snagged from the party which had been laid out between them.

“Aren’t you the one who said that you would make the party fun?” Marinette asked amused.

“I said I would show you a good time. So, to do that we first needed food and then we needed to leave because those things are never fun.” Marinette laughed.

“You were the one who convinced me to go in the first place!” Adrien contemplated with mock seriousness.

“Hm, I’m afraid that was just a ploy to get myself out of this party.” Marinette rolled her eyes.

“Wow, so we’ve been together for all of twenty minutes and you’re already using me. Not off to a great start Agreste.” Adrien blushed.

“So that’s what your calling me now.” Marinette laughed sarcastically.

“Oh did you think I was just gonna let that go? The fact that your father is my boss and you didn’t think that was important to mention.” Adrien scratched the back of his head nervously.

“Heh, I was hoping.”

“Well at the very least I think you owe me an explanation.” Marinette was serious but Adrien could tell she wasn’t angry. Adrien sighed and looked out at the dim stars above the city lights. Marinette picked up a cookie and handed it to Adrien, and he smiled as he took it.

“I’ve lived my whole life with people judging me based off of the success of my father or the way that my father treated them. But when I met you and you had no idea who I was and you just treated me like a normal person and you actually like me, for me. And then when I started realizing how much I liked you and wanted you in my life I realized I’d have to tell you eventually, but I couldn’t think of the right time to bring it up. And with the show you were really stressed out and you were working all the time and I thought telling you then would just make it worse and-” Marinette nodded as Adrien struggled to find the right words.

“And then all of a sudden we were here,” she said quietly. Adrien nodded. Marinette smiled.

“I understand. I mean, I was really nervous about being in this show because of the… nature of the designs and then I realized you were going to be there and I didn’t know how to tell you I’d be parading half naked in clothes I designed in front of you and billion other people that are important and I had no idea how you’d react so I thought maybe if I just ignored the problem, it would be better.” Adrien smiled and grabbed Marinette’s hand placing it in his.

“What a pair we are,” he said. Marinette squeezed his hand and grabbed a small piece of cheese and started to nibble.

“Well, I have an idea,” Marinette offered. Adrien looked at her and nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“What if, we just spend tonight talking about everything, ya know? Learning about everything and then we won’t have any secrets coming to bite us in the ass. I mean, I don’t really have a whole lot in my life to hide so maybe that’s a lot to ask but I think the best way to start a relationship is with honesty. “

Adrien hesitated as he looked at Marinette and he was stuck by the sincerity in her voice and the earnest look on her face. So tentatively, Adrien nodded.

The two spent hours upon hours talking about everything and nothing. Things that mattered and things that didn’t. They snacked and talked like they had nothing else they’d rather do. As time went on, Adrien lost his jacket, his tie and a few buttons on his shirt while Marinette removed heavy jewelry and shoes.

And as the food between them began to disappear so did the distance and an hour later, Marinette had her head in Adrien’s lap, tracing the lines in his palm involuntarily.

“So, do you still talk to Luka?” Adrien asked, using his free hand to stroke Marinette’s bangs out of her face.” Marinette shrugged.

“More or less, the problem was always that he wasn’t really a guy of many words and he was really hard to talk to. But every once in a while, he’ll give me a call and ask me how I’m doing and tell me how his tour is going.” Adrien nodded.

“Yeah I don’t really talk to Kagami either. I really hurt her I think when I broke up with her and I was just a stupid high school boy so I didn’t have clue how to talk to women.” Marinette laughed.

“I know a lot about being stupid in high school. I uh- gosh this is embarrassing please don’t look at me while I say this.” Adrien laughed and looked at the stars.

“Better?” Marinette laughed and took her hands from his to cover her face.

“Okay, so I slept with Luka.” Adrien looked at her puzzled.

“Why is that embarrassing? Weren’t you together for a long time?” Marinette sighed.

“No, you don’t understand. I slept with him… after we broke up.” Adrien laughed.

“I’m sorry I don’t mean to laugh. Why, if you don’t mind me asking?” Marinette balled her hands up in front of her face.

“Because, oh my god its so fucking stupid I’m sorry- I just didn’t want to be inexperienced when I started dating again and I knew it wouldn’t be embarrassing to do it with him because-“

“Because you were so comfortable with each other. I get it. It makes sense. But… that’s gonna make what I have to say kind of awkward.” Marinette lowered her hands and looked at Adrien suspicously.

“What?” Adrien and started running his hand through his hair and chuckled nervously. “I’m uh- I’m still a virgin.”

Marinette sat up.“I’m sorry, what?”

Adrien started to feel the blood rushing to his face.

“I mean, I never had sex with anyone,” he mumbled.

“No, I understand what being a virgin is, but like… you’re so… hot. I mean, I’m sorry, I just can’t imagine you not having girls like, lining up at your door.” Adrien laughed.

“Well it’s not that the problem is finding someone who’s willing as much as someone I’d actually want to have sex with, ya know?” Marinette laid back into Adrien’s lap and shifted uncomfortably.

“I understand that I guess. I don’t know I’ve just never met a boy who doesn’t… take advantage of… the opportunities when they arise,” Marinette said awkwardly. Adrien stared at her for a moment before smiling.

“Mari, are you uncomfortable talking about sex?” Marinette put her hands back in front of her face.

“Maybe,” she muttered. Adrien laughed.

“But you’re the one who brought it up!” he pointed out. Mari groaned.

“I know, we said we were gonna be honest!” she exclaimed. Adrien laughed and pulled her into his chest and her button nose was buried into the skin of his chest just above the fastened buttons of his white shirt.

“Well I’m gonna be honest with you now okay?” Marinette nodded and Adrien relished in the feel of his skin on hers.

“I’d want to do it with you.”

#of lattes and lingerie #mlb #miraculous ladybug #adrienette #adrinette #adrinette fanfic #adrienette fanfic #mlb fanfic #coffee shop au #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng

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emptymasks · 4 years

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sleep comfort for both of you // illinois x reader

So How About That Date? ( A Heist With Markiplier x Reader Collection [SFW])

Pairing: Illinois / Gender-Neutral Reader

Words: 1446

Rating: General Audiences

Read on Ao3

Notes (more notes at the end): credit and thank yous to people in the @yancy-support-group discord server (come and join us) for giving me lots of inspiration for this

Sleep sometimes felt like your worst enemy.

You'd just be laying there at the end of the day all ready to rest and your body would just say no, no sleep for you. No matter how busy or active you had been that day, sleep just wouldn't happen. You'd just lay there staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning in the hope your body would find a position it liked. Laying there for who knows how long and checking the clock to realise you'd been awake for hours at that point. You could often tell when it was going to happen after about the first five minutes of laying down. You couldn't really explain it, but even if you were tired you could feel when your body and brain were just not going to accept sleep that night.

And then on the nights where insomnia wasn't holding you hostage, you'd find yourself kept away by noises and rocks digging into your back in forest shelters and caves and deserts as you stuck by Illinois side. You'd be trying to get to sleep but the slightest wind or dripping or water could keep you awake.

Not Illinois though, that man could sleep anywhere. You supposed he was used to it by now after being on so many adventures and journeys and having to sleep in all sorts of conditions and weathers and climates. He wasn't a heavy sleeper though. Though you were incredibly easily disturbed whilst trying to fall asleep, not everything woke you up once you were actually asleep. It was probably for the best Illinois wasn't a very heavy sleeper as on more than one occasion you'd been awoken by him dragging you awake (and one time giving up and you woke up slung over his shoulders) as the cave ceiling decided it didn't like you anymore and started to rain in on you both.

So he wasn't a particularly heavy sleeper, but he could fall asleep in the tightest and most uncomfortable places, which is why it was such a surprise after laying inside in your nice, warm bed with him, it had been over an hour and you knew he still wasn't asleep. Of course he hadn't said anything, he liked acting all self-sufficient and independent. It had been wonderful to watch that act fade as he got more comfortable around you and you started spending more time together and for you to realise that deep down he's soft and does care (though he still has that bravado). He's just lost so many partners he tries to push people away nonchalantly so that there's no risk of anyone else getting hurt. But you made it clear you were staying and there's no way he could get rid of you now.

You rolled off your back and onto your side to face him. He didn't move, just kept laying there with his eyes closed. You knew he was awake, his body was too tense and rigid.

"Ow," His eyes shot open as you jabbed him in the waist. He blinked up at you while you glared down at him. "Alright darlin', you caught me. I'm not keeping you awake, am I?"

"Only thing that's keeping me awake is my stupid brain. But what's keeping you awake, huh? I've never seen you having problems falling asleep. You know if you're worried about anything you can tell me."

He smiled at how earnest you were being. "It's nothing, you just try and sleep."

"It's not nothing. If you're going to lecture me about how sleep is necessary then I'll fling that right back at you."

You stayed staring at him, eyes locked as if he was challenging you to drop it. He sighed.

"It's nothing, alright. I suppose I'm just not used to all this. I'm so used to sleeping outside I hadn't realised how quiet things can get indoors. The bed's softer than what I'm used to, but it's not too bad. It's the silence I think. It's like it's just itching under my skin. But don't you worry your pretty little head about it, you can get enough beauty sleep for the two of us." And of course he winked at the end.

"Hardly," You scoffed. "I don't think I'm doing any sleeping tonight. I'd offer to open the window to help if it wasn't freezing outside."

"Now you don't have to do that on account of me. Why don't you just lie back down next to my big, strong, warm body," You laugh and drop your head onto his shoulder. "And you can at least get yourself some rest."

It was a shame you couldn't open the window though. It might help him to at least be able to hear some sounds of wind or nature or... You felt like an idiot, why didn't you think about this before?

"Now where do you think you're scampering off too?" Illinois questioned as you crawled away from him and grabbed your phone from your bedside table. "You know those things don't help you sleep right? Those screens aren't any good for you."

You ignored his complaints as you broughtup Youtube on your phone. "We're not going to be looking at it, we're going to listen to it. Sometimes when I can't sleep and I'm on my own I play ASMR videos, whether it's someone talking or often just soundscapes and sound effects. The noise helps my brain focus on something that isn't my biggest worries and fears creeping into my head at the worst possible time, you know. So, I thought, there's lots of videos of forest sounds and cave sounds and nature sounds... all sorts of sounds really, and we could play one and maybe it would help?"

His brows furrowed and he looked confused for a moment before pondering whether to trust your phone.

"I'll put it face down on the table so they'll be no light and no looking at the screen," You said trying to convince him.

"Alright, if you think if might help. Can't hurt, I suppose."

You tried and not look too excited as you pulled up a video of cave sounds (water droplet effects and wind and ambience) and reached back over to put your phone back on the table, turning the volume up so he could hear it from the other side of the bed.

You laid back on your side, facing him, watching and studying him as he closed his eyes again. Ever so slowly his body started to relax into the mattress.

"So maybe your phone isn't completely evil."

"It's helping?!" You forced your voice quieter as you were too excited to be able to be helping him.

"Yeah, sapphire, it's helping," He murmured and you blushed at the pet name.

He seemed fine for a while before he began shuffling a little.

"Do you mind if I..." He glanced down at where his hand now was, stretched outwards towards you and hovering next to your own. "I just want to... know you're still here..."

Your heart ached. You were slowly working out how touch-starved he was and how long it had been for him since he'd last experienced physical affection. "Of course."

He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours, pulling your arm over his stomach as he settled your joined hands there. You nuzzled into his shoulder. His thumb stroked over the back of your hand and he chuckled.

"It's adorable how you're smaller than me," You looked up and he was just staring at your joined hands with the goofiest, softest grin on his face and he sighed and he just looked fucking dreamy and you could have sworn he was blushing.

You moved to place a kiss along his jaw. "Well we can't all have 'big, strong hands' like you," You lowered your voice in some poor attempted at imitating him and you both laughed. "I'm glad though..." You muttered. "That you're fine with me and all."

"Darlin' I am so much more than 'fine' with you, you know that."

"Yeah, I know."

"And it is helping, it seems to be at least. The noise and you, holding your hand like this... sort of embarrassing to say, but of course Illinois doesn't get embarrassed by anything, but... it's nice, grounding even."

"We should do this more often then," You said around a yawn that broke out of your mouth mid-sentence.

"We should... But for now, sleep, for both of us."

You mumbled some form of agreement into his shoulder. "G'night Illy." He would groan and complain about that nickname, but he'd never actually asked you to stop using it.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Tag list: @thehalfdemonwitchfromamestris @rats-this-username-is-taken @hamiltrash1411 @line-viper (let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for my ahwm fics)

More notes: credit and thank yous to people in the yancy-support-group discord server (come and join us) for giving me lots of inspiration for this:(a collection of messages I took inspiration from)

Starship: Illinois: .....i didn't know you where this strong sapphire

Tinam: but Illinois exclusively using gemstones names as petnames with Y/N

Mars: Does Illinois hold Y/N's hand when he sleeps? I feel he'd do Illi loves that Y/N has smaller hands than him. He'll just be a blushing mess because "holy????? fuck??????? Whenever they hold hands he just has the biggest fucking heart eyes, the goofiest grin and can't stop sighingthank you all for saying it was okay for me to take these ideas and be inspired by them and write things based on them

i know it's been a little while, but my mental health took a dive but now i'm working on getting myself better.

huge thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments and kudos and requests, it means a lot.

big thanks to starship in the yancy-support-group discord server for giving me most of my inspiration for this, more on that in the notes at the top of this chapter.

and if you guys could please help me out and and reblog this promo post for the heist charms, stickers and pins i'm making and selling that would mean the world! there's also the link in there to my Etsy shop where you can buy them

also if you want to see the heist art i keep drawing you can follow me on instagram and twitter

#ahwm #ahwm spoilers #ahwm illinois #illinois x reader #a heist with markiplier #mywriting #mine #so how about that date #markiplier egos

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themagicianshea · 5 years

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From now until November, we’ll be spotlighting some of our MHHE registered authors. Want to make art for them? Register here! Artists who register before July 6th get early access to claims.

MHHE Author Spotlight: Page161of180

What piece of work best represents your writing style, and how would you briefly describe it?

I think that my most representative piece is one called "You're a Story (I Can Follow)". It's a take on the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, that involves Eliot rescuing Quentin from the Underworld after the events of season four-- which, *heavy sigh*, I wrote in the middle of season four, before I realized how badly I would eventually a crave a story that gets Quentin back.

I think it speaks clearly to the things I like to do as a writer: the plot is there but not overly complex, the focus is on the characters (specifically Eliot and Quentin) and how they understand themselves and each other and who they are to each other, there are just an absolutely gratuitous number of flashbacks and memories and little moments that show the truth of any relationship (in my view), it's deep in the feels but ends joyfully, and it takes as both thesis statement and rallying cry that the beating heart of love is knowing someone really damn well and taking care of them as best you can, even if you are a full disaster every time you try to express it.

One of my favorite bits, which takes place near the start of the story, when Eliot is trying to convince himself that Quentin is actually following him out of the Underworld, follows below. If you want to know how I see Eliot in his relationship to Quentin (that is: desperately romantic and desperately dysfunctional about it), this is all you really need to read:

He cleared his throat once. It would have been almost comically affected, except for the fact that he actually did need to clear the choking lump that had formed if he was going to get a word out. “The thought occurs,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately casual, “that if we’re going to make it up however many stairs are in the Underworld Branch without me losing what’s left of my mind, the whole ‘ascending in silence’ thing isn’t going to cut it. I know there’s not much you can do about that at the moment--”

He grabbed the banister to cover the tremor in his hand, “--so you’ll just have to suffer through my sparkling conversation. Fortunately, I’ve cultivated a real gift for speaking to imaginary versions of you recently. And on the off chance you’ve bailed on the whole enterprise already, we’ll just-- chalk this up to the stage of the grieving process where I go full season 5 - season 6 hiatus Spike.”

Eliot actually could feel Q, then, but he knew it wasn’t coming from behind him, but inside him, the shard of Q that was a part of him, always, even all the months Eliot had repressed him. The part that was always watching Eliot with disappointed (but unsurprised) eyes as Eliot pretended every little thing about Q didn’t make him want to carve a shelter out of his body for this reckless little stormcloud of a man, with his awful clothes and embarrassing earnestness and the eyelashes that Eliot honest-to-God couldn’t not kiss every. Single. Time. he’d watched them flutter while Q flew apart with Eliot’s name in his mouth.

“Sorry,” Eliot said quietly, letting out a sigh. “I told myself that I was going to be better--” braver “--if I ever . . . saw you. Again. Ever so slightly less full of my own bullshit. But this is--”

Nothing like he thought it would be , for starters. In his relentless planning for what he’d do when he was free, he’d imagined what he’d say if Q was happy, if Q was furious, if Q had already fucked off and married Alice and they had 2.5 magical prodigies and Q hadn’t even thought of Eliot in thirteen years of however the fuck much time had passed. But never had he considered coming back to find Q-- gone . It hardly would have been conducive to maintaining his sanity. Nor had he considered what it would be like to find Q but to have lost the words . To be too chickenshit to say them, sure. To fumble them, abso-fucking-lutely. But to have mortgaged them away?

“-- it’s hard, Q,” he finally settled on. “It’s just-- really hard.”

He could imagine the Q behind him, and the Q inside him, both furrowing their brows.

“Oh stop it,” he shushed, in the familiar way born of having the time to learn every one of a person’s textbook moves. “You know you’re always worth it. To me.”

And: bonus answer! While I think "You're a Story" is probably my most representative work overall, it is a bit mournful in tone until the ending, so perhaps not the best representative of what my MHHE work will be like! For that, I'd recommend, "The Honor of Your Presence," which is the fully indulgent, outsider-POV, Queliot wedding piece that my heart needed: . A snippet (and strong contender for my absolute favorite piece of dialogue that I've written) follows below:

“Fine,” King Quentin says. “Forget the whole ‘obey’ thing. What about just love and honor ? That’s-- unobjectionable, right?”

King Eliot doesn’t answer immediately, and because he is wearing one of his looser tunics today, without the high-collared jackets he prefers, Rafe can see that the pulse in his throat begins to pound at a pace not unlike the palace’s fleet of messenger bunnies.

“Seriously,” King Quentin sighs.

“It’s not that it’s objectionable , per se,” King Eliot says, his voice a note higher than normal. Rafe might say it was verging on the hysterical, were that a word that could be fairly applied to a king. “Isn’t it just-- a bit gauche to come out and say it? What happened to preserving the mystery?”

What piece of work are you most proud of and why?

While I'm embarrassingly attached to everything I've written in this fandom (because I'm embarrassingly attached to the characters themselves), I think my personal proudest moment is a piece called "A Little Disguised, or a Little Mistaken". On one level, this is all about Eliot and Quentin's memory-wipe personas Nigel and Brian meeting and falling in love like the nonsensical soulmates that they are. But on another level, it's also about the parts of Eliot and Quentin that are immutable and come through no matter what, and the way that they keep making the same mistakes with each other (and getting the same things right) across their various timelines and identities. It's also, in large measure, about Jane Austen, for reasons. If you want to know what me writing a no-magic, modern AU romcom would look like (cough cough, MHHE!, cough), the first three-quarters of this are a pretty good indication.

“What can I make you tonight? And keep in mind-- we’re celebrating.”

That was right, Nigel’s text had said he had good news. Well, at least one of them did.

“Um. Something, like, fruity?”

Nigel smirked and it made Brian want to simultaneously slide to the floor and also reach over and pull Nigel in by the collar, but he did neither.

“Okayyy,” Nigel said. “Do I get anything more to go on?”

Brian shrugged one shoulder. “Surprise me.”

Nigel’s hands, always deft and sure, fumbled the glass for a moment, but he recovered it. “Why don’t you tell me what you don’t like,” he said once he had.

Nothing you’re offering , Brian wanted to say. But instead he cleared his throat and said, “Uh. Peaches, I guess? I don’t like them.”

Nigel nodded. “What don’t you like about them?”

They hurt to eat , Brian thought. “Too sweet, I guess,” he said instead.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Nigel said, already starting to gather ingredients.

“You’ve never eaten a peach?”

Nigel shook his head as he started muddling something with something else. “Allergic. Even the smell’s kind of overpowering, though. I get how they could be too much.”

As Nigel poured and shook and stirred, Brian watched entranced and a little sad that something Nigel did so naturally was so dangerous for him. Or maybe it wasn’t natural at all. Maybe Nigel was just a much better actor than New York had given him credit for.

Nigel finished his creation and placed it on a napkin, before sliding it across the bar to Brian. It was reddish-gold in color, shading down to a deeper purple-red at the bottom of the glass.

“Gin fizz with a plum shrub,” he said to Brian’s inquisitive look. “Anyway. Brace yourself. Good news incoming.”

What tropes can we look forward to in your MHHE fic?

Let's see . . . There's going to be about a millisecond of enemies-to-lovers, but let's be real-- these two are far too charmed by each other to stay enemies for long. Not sure any of the following are within the strict definition of "tropes," but they're among my personal favorites, so you can go ahead and expect some gratuitous cuddling of a puppy, some deep-meaningful-late-night-talks-even-though-we've-only-just-met (time is an illusion! they bond fast!), so so so much expressing of thinly-veiled feelings through artistic expression, and actively pining while also actively sleeping together. Also, am I going snow these ridiculous gentlemen in? (I'm going to snow these ridiculous gentlemen in.)

Fuck, Marry, Kiss (under the mistletoe) with three Magicians characters of your choice!

My fully honest answer is Eliot, Eliot, and Eliot. But my even more honest answer is that I'd rather sit back with a cup of tea and a plate of gingerbread cookies and sigh with deep appreciation while Quentin handles all of Eliot's mistletoe needs.

#mhhe #mhhe author spotlight #queliot #Quentin Coldwater #eliot waugh

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unfortunately-lovestruck · 5 years

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Colors

This is a cute fluff for Diego and MC requested by @seducemeotome-trash. Thank you for your request, I had so much fun writing it!

Note: This is post vampire transformation for MC, just to clarify the timing.

As always, enjoy!

Colors

“Do you want creme or white for the color scheme?” Diego asked MC.

“There’s a difference?” she blinked.

He laughed, the two color samples still in his hand. MC knew as a vampire one didn’t need any sleep, but she was exhausted enough to do so. Planning a wedding in general was supposed to be difficult, but planning a big wedding was a whole nother monster in itself.

“Oh God, don’t tell me ‘eggshell’ is another shade that’s completely different from the two,” she groaned.

“Um,” Diego cleared his throat, putting back another sample.

“Fucking-” MC threw her hands up, “Is ‘cloud’ different from ‘white’?”

“In some stores, yeah,” he smiled, MC sighing in response. “…Hey, maybe we should save this for tomorrow,” he told her. “This seems nerve-wracking for you.”

“A bit,” she admitted, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he rubbed her arm gently, “This is stressing you out. Besides, the store’s about to close anyway.”

“Uhh- oh it is,” she realized. Half the lights were dimmed and the last customers were leaving.

“Yeah, we can just keep looking tomorrow,” Diego smiled, “We have all the time we need.”

She smiled back, letting him kiss her temple. They left the store before an employee could urge (kick) them out, and continued their conversation in MC’s truck. The radio played softly in between them, a lulled, gentle song with drawn out vocals and steady guitar playing in the back.

“I still don’t see the difference between eggshell and white,” MC lamented, “Eggs are white.”

“Some aren’t,” Diego reminded.

“Okay, but why? Why are some eggs white while others are brown?”

“MC, out of all the subject matters I’ve become well-versed in over the last several centuries, egg anatomy and coloring is not one of them,” he blinked.

“Fair,” she commended, turning the steering wheel, “But next thing I know, you’re gonna be telling me there are 500 different shades of red.”

“Oh God,” he sighed, “Don’t even get me started on crimson and scarlet.”

“Jesus Christ,” MC lamented.

Diego only laughed, the sound almost harmonious with the music from the radio.

“MC, regardless of what color everything is,” he spoke past a grin, “It’ll be the same event, so we probably shouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“Diego, that’s literally exactly what I said in the store,” she reminded.

“Perish the thought,” he feigned offense.

MC snorted, amused at the pompous sound he mimicked.

“Did you actually used to speak like that in like the 1800’s?” she asked then, curious.

“Everybody did,” he shrugged, “Well, in England anyway. It sounds ridiculous and dramatic now, but that was the norm. That is, unless you were someone with a Cockney accent, but that’s another story.”

“I mean I get that it was the norm,” she nodded, “But I don’t know, it’s just really funny to think of you shouting random Shakespearean sentences at someone.”

“Shakespearean was 16th century-”

“Yeah, I know,” she acknowledged, “But the way it sounds… It’s like the stuffy British accent beefed up times ten.”

Now Diego snorted, highly amused at the simile.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t been tempted to call Antonio an egg at least once,” she snickered.

‘What, you egg? [He stabs him]’ was the only quote from Macbeth MC remembered from high school, and as far as she was concerned, she didn’t need to remember anything else.

“Who says I haven’t?” he asked, MC breaking out into cackles at the thought of him in a poofy-sleeved vest angrily gesturing to the other vampire.

“What else have you called him?” she asked.

“Nothing PG, I can tell you that,” he admitted.

“Oh my God,” MC suddenly widened her eyes.

“What?”

“I just imagined you yelling ‘Stand ho!’ at him,” she began laughing again.

“My God, it’s ‘standho’, not ‘stand ho’. You are not telling a hoe to stand,” he emphasized, which only made MC start wheezing.

“So you don’t deny thinking of him as a hoe?” she asked, words strangled with laughter.

“I don’t deny thinking of him as a lot of things,” Diego continued, “Qué gilipolla…”

MC was dying, but to her credit, he was laughing along with her, even if it was nowhere near as hard. Finally, they settled down, Diego’s house approaching in the distance as they drove towards it.

“How did we go from color shades for the wedding to the verbal particularities of ‘standho’?” Diego suddenly asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” MC admitted, opening the truck door to get out.

“Well, at least it wasn’t at a Stop-n-Go this time,” he chuckled.

“You laugh as if you weren’t blushing like a 5th grader the last time we were there,” she raised her brows, shutting the car door again.

“Look, you can’t just randomly ask if your blood tastes good like that,” he defended himself, the blush MC mentioned starting to return to his cheeks.

“It’s only weird if you make it weird,” she told him.

“Alright then, how does my blood taste?” he asked, features completely neutral now.

“I-” she froze, blinking. “You… fuck.”

“See?” he smirked.

“Point taken,” she conceded.

Diego laughed as they headed inside, victorious in their banter. They split once they were in the house, MC taking a quick shower and her fiance following right after.

It was still strange having no need for food nor pajamas when she got home. However, MC decided to dress in them anyway, more for routine and comfortability than anything else. Instead of going for one of her own shirts though, she eyed Diego’s closet, smiling as she cheekily took one of his own and put it on while he finished his shower.

“MC, I was thinking about-Oh….” he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at her.

“Hey Diego,” she greeted, acting as if nothing was different. “So, how was your shower?”

“It…” he seemed to be struggling for words, “It… had water.”

MC snorted, laughing at the adorable slack-jawed expression he had.

Five hundred years of knowledge and experience, a PHD, and likely thousands of books read in his time, and yet, he said that when all she did was put on one of his shirts.

“Oh my God, Diego,” she smiled, barely containing more laughter. “Mr. Suave giving the smoothest pick-up lines over here.”

He was blushing again, cheeks furiously red. Regardless, he sat next to her on the mattress, lying back and seemingly trying very hard not to look at her, eyes averting when she angled her body to face him.

“I don’t understand why you do this to me,” he lamented.

“Because your reaction is amazing,” she poked his side teasingly, “‘It had water’? That’s going down as one of your official quotes.”

Diego sighed… “The worst part is I can’t even get back at you,” he said.

“I mean, you can,” she refrained from giggling.

“MC, I am not putting on one of your shirts,” he declared, “My dignity has already taken enough damage tonight alone.”

MC wheezed again, stomach actually starting to hurt from all the laughing she’d been doing. Red was still tinting Diego’s cheeks, but it had faded a bit, and now he was looking at her, attention undivided and features set into an unreadable expression.

It took MC a bit to notice, but when his eyes flicked away as soon as she tried to meet them, she grew worried.

“Diego?” she asked, “Diego, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he reassured.

She wasn’t convinced.

“I was just teasing you know,” she told him.

“No, it’s not that,” he shook his head, “It’s nothing, really.”

MC stared at him for a second, then sighed. She scooted closer, laying her cheek on his shoulder before placing a hand on his arm.

“Diego, you’re stuck with me forever. Literally, forever,” she reminded. “If something’s bothering you, you should probably tell me.”

“It…” he hesitated, “It’s not necessarily bothering me I would say.”

MC’s brows furrowed. “Then what’s going on?”

“I just…” he exhaled, clearly trying to phrase his explanation right. “I don’t know. I see you like this, in my bed, wearing my shirt, looking happy to see me, and… I suppose it’s just surreal for me.”

“Diego…” she started, knowing this was his self-deprecation again.

“And I’m not telling you that to say I don’t deserve it,” he disclaimed, actually surprising her. “It’s more so… I’m not sure. I never really expected to marry I suppose. Even when I was human, nothing worked with Eva, and after I turned, I hated myself too much to even consider the prospect of looking for someone else.”

He turned to her again now, expression hesitant, soft even. There was an air of gratefulness around him, a quiet sort of peace that emanated into the night’s quiet.

“For five-hundred years, I never thought there would be someone who could accept me enough to be betrothed to me. Someone who would want to spend eternity by my side. And now, I’m sitting next to you, laughing and joking, only weeks away from having you be my wife,” he continued slowly, as if still trying to fully absorb that the words he spoke were true. “It’s just hard to believe is all.”

MC’s heart swelled with warmth.

He was so sweet it was actually unrealistic. He thought himself a villain still trying to repent for his sins, all while he healed people for a living, only accepted blood from ethical sources, and said things like this as if they were casual statements and not storybook declarations of love.

MC couldn’t just respond with something short and curt. Something that earnest and heartfelt needed something of equal quality.

“Diego… Look, I never thought I would get married either,” she admitted. “I didn’t think I would find anyone right for me, just like you. I was too preoccupied with my own life, and when we first met, us getting married later on would have honestly seemed like insane.”

Diego scoffed, amused. “I can’t say I would have disagreed.”

“Exactly. But the fact is, we have each other now, and I couldn’t be happier. Marriage always seemed too bland for me. You know, to settle down, live the domestic life, have kids. It was too routine and expected. But I know, without a single doubt in my mind, that agreeing to marry you is the best decision I’ve ever made. And nothing will change that. Not even eternity.”

She had to admit, it was pretty up there on the cheesiness scale, but it was the truth. Besides, it did have the effect she’d been aiming for. Diego’s side of the emotional bond practically swelled with pure adoration, a small smile curving his lips before he took her hand and kissed it.

“Thank you, MC,” he told her, pulling her closer as he settled further into the bed.

“For the speech?” she asked.

“For everything,” he clarified, “Accepting me, loving me, agreeing to be with me. I couldn’t have asked for anything better in my life.”

“Neither could I,” she kissed his cheek.

Silence blanketed them then, warm and relaxing, filling the space perfectly.

However, MC still decided to break it when she said, “Also, eggshell is still white.”

“Oh my God,” Diego spoke, deteriorating into quiet laughs, “You’re not going to change your mind for all eternity, are you?”

“Nope,” she told him, “And you’ll just have to deal with that.”

“I think I’ll manage,” he smiled, kissing her forehead. “I’ve dealt with worse in my life.”

And so MC stayed by his side, smiling and content, more than ready for years, decades, centuries of this to come.

tags: @its-dr-fuego @weird-aunt-writing @tomsatos

#lovestruck #havenfall is for lovers #diego escalona #havenfall diego #hifl diego #yall this was lovey dovey as hell #still had fun with it tho #clearly way too much fun #also dont imagine diego walking up to antonio in 1500s get up and shouting #DOST THOU WANT TO GO WENCH #SQUARETH THE FUCK UP #im in my schools top level english class #this is perfect use of that idk what you're talking about

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ti-bae-rius · 6 years

Text

Alec as Consul - oneshot

From the headcanon of @sweetcabbageprince that I answered a week or so ago. It was so fun writing this and I adore writing the malec family dynamic. I haven’t written any malec in a while - though they used to be my main muses. It’s nice writing them again. I’ve missed it.

“Chin up, darling.”

Alec sighed and smoothed his jacket. It was so strange, Magnus thought, to see Alec in a suit. Objectively, the blazer looked far better than his usual ratty sweaters. However, it did mean he lost a little Alec-ness that Magnus missed. But he looked formal and his hair was neat. Well, mostly neat.

“Come here,” Magnus said, shaking his head fondly and smoothing down the cowlick at the back of his boyfriend’s head. “There.” He put a hand under Alec’s chin gently. “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he whispered and Alec looked up at him.

“They’re going to hate me,” Alec replied and Magnus looked uneasy.

He couldn’t deny it. The Cohort were going to throw a fit. The amount of fuss they’d kicked up when Jace voted Alec forward for Consul had shut down the meeting for the rest of the day. Now that he was actually up for election, there was going to be a whole world of chaos for their family. For a long time, the two of them had discussed whether or not Alec should run. Magnus had always said he thought Alec should do it, but he’d listened to Alec’s 2 a.m. monologues about all the problems with it regardless. He was mostly terrified it would expose the children to scrutiny. (’Like their lives haven’t been hard enough, Magnus’). They were just children, Alec argued. They didn’t deserve to be put under the Clave’s microscope just because Alec was selfish enough to want to run for Consul. He’d eventually been convinced to at least attend the meeting by a strong barrage of arguments from his friends that, if he refused to stand, they’d end up with another Cohort member in leadership. That settled it. The past month with Horace Dearborn in the role of Inquisitor, had been pure hell on earth. Max and Rafael had been kept firmly away from Idris. As much as Magnus and Alec wanted to help everyone in Alicante, they were obviously far more dedicated to their children. The couple had lived in permanent fear since adopting their sons that the Clave would force them apart. When Jia Penhallow and Alec’s father had been in charge, that fear was less of a reality and more a nervous parental worry. Now, with Horace Dearborn and his sycophants, all harbouring views that vilified the couple, the fear their children might be taken away felt more and more rational by the day.

Magnus never would’ve expected he’d become a family-oriented man, but here he was. His apartment which had once been the notorious hub of New York’s party scene was now decorated not in half-empty liquor bottles and glitter but in toys and books with the thick cardboard pages with bright, round writing.

“Maybe they will,” Magnus said softly, pressing his lips to Alec’s cheek briefly. “You’ll still have two sons who adore you. And you’ll still have me.”

Alec smiled a little, the air behind Magnus’s words stirring his hair. “Well, that does sound good,” he murmured. “I’d better go. I wish you could come with me,” Alec added, and in that moment he sounded for all the world like the 18 year old boy Magnus had first met, insecure and nervous and shy.

“I can try and arrange for someone to look after the boys,” Magnus offered but Alec shook his head, his resolve firmly set again. All trace of vulnerability left his face. Well, all that anyone else might see. Magnus could still see the waves of self-doubt swimming in Alec’s blue eyes.

“It won’t be as bad as I expect,” Alec said, injecting fake confidence into his voice. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Magnus lingered in the doorway as Alec went into the boys’ bedroom, kissing each of his sons in turn on their foreheads. Max started fussing as Alec pulled back and Magnus swooped in to pick the boy up. He gave Alec one last smile as he left and sat down on the carpet beside Rafael, joining in their pretend game. He hoped Alec was right, that it wouldn’t be as bad as they were predicting. The swan dive his stomach took as soon as the door closed made him think otherwise.

As soon as the front door opened that night, Magnus knew something was wrong. There was a tension in Alec’s stance that put him immediately on guard. He didn’t say a word before heading to the bedroom.

“One second, mi lindo,” Magnus said to Rafael who gave his father an imploring look as he put down the book they’d been reading together. Magnus knocked the back of his hand gently against the wood of the bedroom door.

“Give me a minute,” Alec said tightly. Magnus pushed the door open in response. “I said give me a minute,” Alec repeated tersely.

He was sat on the bed, tie in his hands and shirt collar askew. He held up a hand when Magnus began to ask if he was okay, which Magnus took carefully and lowered onto his knee as he sat beside his boyfriend. The Lightwood ring gleamed on his hand and Magnus stroked a thumb over the signet softly.

“What’s wrong?” Magnus asked and Alec put his head against the other man’s shoulder in defeat.

“I won. I’m the new Consul.”

“Alec!” Magnus exclaimed. “That’s amazing!” When Alec didn’t say anything, he looked across in confusion. “Isn’t it? What’s up?”

“They hate me.”

“What happened?”

“There was a picket line, Magnus,” Alec said, voice strained. “I had to cross a picket line to get to my own meeting.”

“A picket...?” Magnus trailed off, shocked into a rare moment of silence.

“Some of the signs...” Alec looked broken. “Some of the signs were awful. They weren’t just angry with me, they were protesting against you and the kids and gay shadowhunters and mixed Nephilim-Downworlder families and...”

“The Cohort are assholes.”

“Some of them weren’t even Cohort members,” Alec replied. “Some were just normal shadowhunters who don’t like us. I feel like...like I’m doing more damage than good. I’ve never seen protests like this over a Consul election. Before now, maybe those complaints were still there, but they weren’t voiced so publicly. Having me in charge is just adding fuel to the fire, giving them a platform to spread their hate. The stuff on those signs...” Alec swallowed hard. “It honestly made me feel sick. I guess I’d kind of tried to forget that people actually still thought like that. I thought it was better now. I can't just think about myself anymore. There are young gay shadowhunters to consider. If I’d seen those kind of riots when I was still in the closet, I don’t know if I’d have ever come out.”

“But think how much it would’ve meant to you to see a shadowhunter in power who was like you,” Magnus said, tugging on Alec’s arm. His eyes were gleaming with earnest. “And not just any shadowhunter, but the Consul, the highest Clave member. Think how much that would’ve meant. You said it couldn’t be all about you, and you’re right. You have to do this for the kids like you, the adults like you. Besides, think what it would mean to the Downworld. Which shadowhunter would understand them better than you? Not only are you dating an infamous warlock -” At that, Alec cracked a smile and squeezed Magnus’s hand. “- and you have a warlock son but you know what it’s like to be ostracized by the Clave. You know what it’s like to be treated differently for who you are, for something you can’t change. You already founded the shadowhunter-downworlder alliance. And, not to brag, I do have a certain amount of clout in the Downworld.”

Alec brought their hands to his lips and kissed Magnus’s knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What’s next?” Magnus asked.

“There’s an inauguration dinner together and then I move into my new office in the Gard on Monday.”

“Do you happen to have a plus-one?” Magnus asked, and Alec looked uncertain.

“I do. But I don't know whether it’s wise.”

“Alec, darling, I don’t want to panic you, but I think they all know you have a boyfriend,” Magnus whispered jokingly. “I think you can come out now.”

Alec shoved him gently in the shoulder. “I just meant that it might make things worse. Besides, I don’t want them to say anything to you.”

“I’m a big warlock, Alec. I can handle it,” he said, kissing him gently.

“Papa!”

They exchanged a look and Magnus stood up. “Coming, muru!” he called.

The handle of the bedroom door turned and Rafael’s face peeked into the room, his hand clutching Max’s, pulling his little brother along impatiently. Alec bent down and Rafael dropped Max’s hand to run into Alec’s outstretched arms. Max toddled over, not wanting to be left out.

“How are you?” Alec asked, burying his face in Rafael’s black hair and kissing the boy’s head. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Nope. We were waiting for you,” Magnus said, and Rafael scrambled up onto the bed and into Magnus’s lap. Max barrelled forward into Alec’s chest enthusiastically and Alec carefully untangled a ringlet of blue hair from where it was caught on his son’s budding horns. They were coming through. It was like teething again but without the resources of ten Google pages of parenting blogs to consult for advice.

“Well, let’s go get dinner. This little blueberry looks hungry,” Alec said, and hitched Max onto his hip. “Let’s see what we have, Max.”

Magnus watched him go, their son on his arm, and pulled Rafael closer. Maybe some bigoted shadowhunters thought their family was wrong. Who could argue that their family - their beautiful children, his boyfriend who sung lullabies vaguely out of tune, the way Rafael’s hand curled around his thumb - was anything less than any other family? Who out there was protesting against the families who threw out their downworlder children? Who was protesting Horace Dearborn forcing his warped ideals onto his daughter, Zara? No one.

“Papa?”

Magnus looked down at Rafael and smiled. “Come on, let’s go and see what Dad and Max are doing.”

“Do you really think we can bring the kids to Idris?”

Magnus rolled over and looked at Alec, laid flat on his back, hands resting on his stomach over the bed covers.

“I don’t see why not. The dinner tonight was okay, minus some passive aggressive commentary from a Cohort members. Besides, I doubt anyone will really be there tomorrow. You’re just moving into the office, right?”

“I guess that’s true,” Alec said, and turned to look at Magnus. “Am I being crazy?”

“No more than usual.”

Alec shoved him in the shoulder, laughing quietly. “Shut up! I’m just worried. I don’t want the kids to get caught up in this. I don’t want to drag them into this mess. I don’t even want to drag you into it, but I don’t think I have a choice in that one.” He smiled and Magnus nodded.

“You’re right. There’s nothing I love more.” Magnus pulled Alec toward him and rolled over, his back flush to Alec’s bare chest. “Mmm,” he said sleepily. “We’re coming with you, Alexander - all of us. I’m proud of you, darling. I’m not going to be scared away by some Clave assholes. They’re going to have to raise hell to drive us apart.”

“That didn’t work so well last time we went to hell,” Alec teased, kissing along Magnus’s neck gently. The warlock gave a mumble of pleasure and leaned back into Alec’s arms.

“Exactly. So Horace Dearboring isn’t going to have a chance,” Magnus said, wrapping his feet around Alec’s ankles. “Sleep, love. We need to be up early.”

“Can’t you distract me instead?” Alec asked and Magnus rolled over, eyes glinting.

“And suddenly I’m awake.”

Alec laughed.

“So, how would you propose I distract you, Consul Lightwood?”

Alec grinned. “I’ll leave that up to you.”

“Say no more.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah? And whose fault is that?” Magnus laughed, scrambling eggs.

“Well, I mean, technically yours,” Alec said, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek from over the warlock’s shoulder. “I’m going to go get the kids ready.”

Magnus watched Alec go, watched his shoulders move under the light grey t-shirt he slept in. When he’d made his breakfast, Magnus took the bowl into the boys’ room where Alec was simultaneously trying to stop Rafael getting toys out to play right before they left and wrestle Max’s feet into light-up sneakers.

“Why are you fighting me? You like these shoes,” Alec said in exasperation. “Rafey, no toys now. We’re setting off soon.” He glanced up at Magnus and sighed. “Oh well, I’m glad you got your eggs.”

“They’re great,” Magnus teased. “I’d go as far as to say they’re even better than reasoning with a three year old - and everyone knows that’s my favourite pastime.”

Alec rolled his eyes fondly and turned to Rafael and Max. “Okay, both of you come here. I need you to listen really hard.” When he’d managed to get both boys sat on Rafael’s bed, he bent down in front of them. “I need you to stay close to Papa when we’re in Idris. If you can’t see Dad or Papa, stay exactly where you are and we will come and find you. Don’t talk to anyone you don’t recognise. We’re going to use our very best manners. And if anyone asks who you are, you are Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood’s sons, okay?” The boys nodded solemnly and Alec smiled. “No, no, don’t be nervous. It’s fine. Dad’s just worrying. It’s all going to be just fine.”

He straightened up and picked Max up to carry him through the portal. Magnus took Rafael’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Well, it was now or never. He pulled Rafael gently after him through the portal and into the whirling abyss.

The portal spat them out at the base of the hill on which the Gard sat. Max wriggled to be put down and Alec placed him gently on the grass, compliant.

“Race!” Max declared and set off running, Rafael a beat behind, though he easily overtook his little brother. When he dramatically slowed, Magnus raised his voice.

“No slowing charms, Max! No using magic on your brother!” he called and Max stopped and reluctantly reversed spell on his brother.

Rafael scowled and sprinted after Max, who was now motivated both by the prospect of winning and a desire not to be wrestled to the ground by his older brother. Magnus gave Alec a despairing look, but Alec looked nervous.

“It’s fine. They’re fine,” Magnus said and Alec nodded, sighing.

“Sorry. I’m just a bit tense.”

“You’re always tense. You’re on a goddamn knife’s edge, Alexander. Just breathe. It’s going to be alright.”

Alec nodded and exhaled slowly. “Okay. I’m good, I’m fine. Let’s go after them.”

Before they’d even got fifteen feet though, a familiar voice called out: “Papa! Dad!”

Rafael. Magnus and Alec exchanged a look at the tone of his voice and set off running. When they crested the hill, the two froze in unison. Rafael and Max were there, hand in hand, facing the Gard. Alec walked over to them and put a hand on Rafael’s shoulder gently.

“Come on, let’s go in,” he prompted and Max looked up.

“But...”

“I know, blueberry. Just...just keep walking.”

Alec could see the small crowd gathered around the door to the Gard, every person accompanied by a picket sign. He hoped his sons couldn’t understand them, but both were strong readers and the look on Rafael’s face said that he understood more than Alec would’ve wished. Magnus followed behind, one hand on Max’s head and the other on the small of Alec’s back. Some signs hurt more than others - Alec was far less offended by the ‘Not my Consul’ signs than the ‘Register your “son”‘ ones. Alec curled his hands into fists. What did those quotes imply? Max was his son. Rafael was his son. He didn’t care about blood, about magical race. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone more than his sons. Alec pulled the boys along quickly and ignored the shouts and chants. As soon as the doors to the Gard shut behind them Alec breathed out. Max and Rafael looked at their dads, confused.

“Why are they mad?” Max asked.

Magnus started telling them not to worry, but Alec sighed and pulled his sons into his new office. He lifted them both onto the big oak desk in the middle of the room, their legs dangling, and bent down in front of them.

“Okay, firstly, I need you to know that you’re both perfect exactly as you are and you shouldn’t ever change for anyone. Those people out there are from a teeny tiny minority of shadowhunters. It’s a silly thing to think, because everyone is the same, regardless of what kind of blood they have. They don’t like me and Papa very much because they don’t think shadowhunters and warlocks should love each other - and some of them think you should have a mommy and a daddy, not two daddies.”

“Why?” Rafael asked.

Alec shrugged. “It’s just what they think, but that doesn’t make it true.” He took one hand from each boy in one of his own and smiled. “You have an exciting chance to prove to them that they are wrong. You get to show them that it doesn’t matter that you have two dads, or that one of them is a warlock and one is a shadowhunter, or that you two aren’t exactly the same. What matters is what we have in common, and that’s that we love each other, that we’re family. What matters is that we’re happy, and I am happy. You have dads who love you - and each other - more than anything. Don’t listen to them; make them listen to you.” Alec stood up and kissed their heads softly. “Right, go and explore. Don’t go too far, and stay in this wing.”

Rafael jumped down off the desk and Alec lifted Max down too. Once the door closed, he leaned against the desk and looked at Magnus.

“Well that sucked,” Alec said, rubbing a hand over his brow. “I really didn’t think we’d be having that conversation with them that early. Sorry I kinda monopolised it.”

Magnus kissed his cheek gently. “You did great. Close your eyes.”

Alec obeyed and when he opened his eyes again, Magnus had moved all the things they’d boxed up last night into the office. On the desk, nestled with the pens and pencils was a small rainbow flag. Photo frames with pictures of Alec’s siblings and Magnus with the kids littered the desk. Alec grinned and sat down in the desk chair, meeting Magnus halfway across the desk to kiss him.

“Wow, the Consul and the warlock representative. What a scandalous power couple,” Magnus grinned. “I’m gonna go find the boys, check they aren’t vandalising Clave property or whatever.”

Alec watched him go and leaned back in his chair, pushing it to swivel with his foot. It had been a rocky journey to his office, but it had been more than worth it to be sat here. Finally.

#malec #Magnus x Alec #magnus bane #Alec Lightwood #alexander lightwood #tmi #the mortal instruments #malec fic #headcanon #cassandra clare

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