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ifyouvegotthemoneyhoney · 4 years

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Sunset Love ch. 4: I can’t stop myself

Getting up in the morning was never a problem for Slash. The gnawing craving for alcohol woke him every morning early, regardless of how much (or little) he'd slept the night before.

It was around one in the afternoon and he had been up for hours. He had fled the garage as soon as he'd woken that morning, not wanting to face Axl. He had put a stop to things the night before, mumbling something about being tired and jumping up into the loft to sleep. Alone - to be fair, Axl hadn't pushed it; he had stayed on the floor.

As soon as he was out on the street, Slash had forked over the last of his cash from his old newsstand job for a bottle of Jack, then called over to Izzy's place. Izzy's girlfriend was out, so the two spent an agreeable few hours on the sofa, putting away the whisky and talking about the band.

"Hey, that reminds me," said Izzy, putting down the empty bottle on the shaky coffee table. "The rehearsal space is a fucking disaster, man."

"Whaddya mean?" said Slash, his head lolling pleasantly against the back of the sofa.

"You and Axl live there," replied Izzy. "Me, Duff and Stevie are gonna be there every fuckin' day - and probably a lot of nights. We gotta make it a bit more - I dunno, livable. We gotta fix up somewhere to sleep."

Through his whisky haze, Slash realised what Izzy was getting at.

"Right," he said. "A fuck space."

Izzy chuckled.

"Correct, my friend. I think you'll agree that the rehearsal space is going to be used for that purpose? I don't think any of us is keen to get it on with someone on that fuckin' hard-ass concrete floor."

Slash felt his face get warm. He dipped his head to take a long drag on his cigarette.

Izzy stood up and patted his pockets for his key.

"Uhhh...where we going?" said Slash.

Ten minutes later, Slash found himself ducking his head and following Izzy through a gap in a chain-link fence around into a construction site just off Clark Street. Despite his long history of shop-lifting and general pilfering, Slash was glancing around.

Izzy snorted. "It's Saturday, dude. Construction workers aren't like us - they don't work weekends."

He was right. No-one bothered them as they selected a few lengths of plywood and wooden blocks that were stacked against a wall. Ten minutes later again, they were pulling open the door to the studio on Sunset and Gardner.

Sunlight hit the bare walls inside, cutting through the dark. Incredibly, Axl had been still asleep in his snakeskin jacket on the concrete floor. He didn't look too happy to see them.

"What the fuck?" Axl groaned, squinting.

"It's the afternoon, asshole," said Izzy, nudging Axl in the side with his toe and, with a grunt, letting the wood he'd been carrying crash to the floor.

Slash noticed the easy camaraderie between the old school friends. He was always more cautious when he talked to Axl. Everyone knew that Axl was a grenade, liable to explode at any moment.

"I'm here to do you a massive favour, Ax," Izzy declared. He started laying out the two-by-fours, then produced a box of nails and some tools from his pocket. "Slash and I realised this place is not very fucking hospitable to the so-called fair sex. Plus there's no space on the floor with all our gear. We're going to build a loft."

Slash spent the next few hours - alongside following Izzy's building instructions - discreetly observing Axl. He found it funny to see him doing manual labour - clearly unwillingly. Probably, Slash thought as he held pieces of wood while Izzy sawed and hammered, Axl felt it was beneath the job of a singer to labour with the rest of them. But Duff and Steven were nowhere to be seen and it was his home, so Axl had to muck in.

It was so sexy the way Axl clenched his jaw when he was annoyed or concentrating. Through his hair, Slash observed the muscles at the angle of Axl's jaw rise and fall. And the way his full lips pursed a little at the same time. Every so often, Slash got annoyed at himself, sneaking looks like a besotted school girl. But he couldn't help himself. Plus, the rehearsal space was tiny - ten by fourteen feet - so they were working literally shoulder to shoulder.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop sensations from last night coming back into his mind. Warm, smooth lips against his own. The sweet, coffee-like aroma of their sweat intensifying as they kissed, slowly, delicately. Breath coming fast and rough from their throats.

"I said hold it steady!" came Izzy's voice, irritated, waking Slash from his reverie.

Slash tried to concentrate. He and Axl were standing in among Steven's drums, holding over their heads the flat wooden structure they had nailed together, while Izzy hammered it to the small wood blocks he had attached to the wall. Slash glanced in Axl's direction and thought, fuuuck. The space had warmed up as the day wore on and Axl had discarded his jacket. He was bare-chested, ropes of muscles in his arms and abdomen on full display.

Slash closed his eyes, willing his twitching cock to be still. He was surprised to notice that sadness was mixed in with his lust. Yes, Axl was naturally strong, but the guy was also thin. The rest of the band, including himself, had mocked the sucked-in-cheeks look Axl had in their one band photoshoot so far. Slash now realised those cheekbones were so prominent because the guy had barely enough to eat.

Izzy was standing back and rubbing his palms on his pants.

"A good day's work, gentlemen!"

And there it was, their new loft. The living space in the studio had just increased by roughly fifty per cent. Just above head height, just enough space to hoist yourself up and roll in, perfect for their purposes. They regarded it with pride.

Slash sucked deeply on a fresh cigarette and frowned.

"Did we, like, just spend the afternoon doing home improvements?" he said.

***

"Man, I love that stuff!" shouted Steven, taking a long swallow and thrusting the bottle high into the night air.

It was around four in the morning on Palm Avenue, West Hollywood. The first shafts of daylight were beginning to tease the grey sky. The five of them were walking home from an uproarious night in Lizzy Grey's sleazy apartment with even sleazier chicks and some coke Duff had produced. They left when the coke was gone. They had pushed all the money they had between them - a few dollars - over the liquor store counter for two bottles of Night Train.

"Eighteen per cent," Axl was saying musingly, looking at the label on the bottle in his own hand. He grinned. "Bottoms up!"

"I'm on the Night Train," sang Duff, his head tilted back, his body full of coked-up energy .

Axl took up the snatch of melody and played with it, flinging his arm around Duff. The two stumbled along, singing out of sync and guffawing with laughter.

Slash trailed the rest of the group as they staggered across the junction onto Sunset. His emotions swirled, despite his attempts all evening to anaesthetise them with coke and booze. The afternoon of hard work cheek-by-jowl with Axl had been followed by an evening of being ignored. Axl literally hadn't looked at him the whole time in Lizzy's. And now to top it all off, here was he, Slash, finding himself simmering with jealousy at Axl and Duff.

He hadn't felt this down in a while. He caught up to Steven, grabbed the bottle and took a long, numbing swallow.

At the junction to Gardner Street, he waved half-heartedly and turned left, not bothering to check if Axl was coming. He made out the door of the studio and pulled out his key chain. The studio looked its usual disastrous state, the half-light throwing into relief the trash, the empty cans and bottles. But at least there was the loft. He summoned up the strength to heave himself up and let his aching body fall onto the flat surface. He surrendered his mind to blessed oblivion.

***

He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the metallic bang of the studio door, then the familiar deep voice.

"Why'd you disappear, man?"

Slash said nothing. He didn't know what to say.

He heard a grunt, followed by cursing and rustling. Axl was swinging his legs into the loft and lying down beside him. The flash of a lighter briefly illuminated Axl's face, his lips balancing a cigarette. Slash felt a flash of annoyance at the warmth that flared low in his belly at the sight.

"You not talkin' to me or what?" came Axl's voice through the darkness.

"Shut the fuck up," grunted Slash, rolling over onto his side, his back to the other man.

There was silence for a moment. Then a hand on his arm. Slash rolled onto his back. He couldn't contain himself any longer.

"What the fuck is happening here, man?" burst out Slash. "Is this how it's going to be? You never speak to me or look at me all day, even in fucking rehearsals, then here at night you - you - we..." He couldn't find the words to finish.

He heard Axl blow out slowly, his breath controlled. The aroma of tobacco filled the air in the tiny space.

"I don't know either, man," came Axl's voice finally, quiet and measured. "I - I don't know. I just can't stop myself touching you."

#gnr fanfic #gunsnroses #guns n roses fanfiction #axlrose #axl rose #slash #slash guns n roses #slash gnr #slash fanfiction #izzy stradlin

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silver-lily-louise · 5 years

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A Whole New World - Chapter 3: Power in Your Corner

In which Alec makes his first wish. Chapter title from ‘Aladdin’.

Chapter 1: AO3 / Tumblr Chapter 2: AO3 / Tumblr Chapter 3: AO3 / read it below!

~oOo~

He hears the door click open, and Alexander’s voice comes echoing from the tiny entrance hallway. ‘Magnus?’ Magnus looks up from the last third of Les Mis – which he’s enjoying, still, but by the gods, how could there be so much of it left? – and feels himself smile as the man himself appears, unwinding his scarf and managing to further muss his already-windswept mop of hair in the process. ‘Alexander,’ he says in greeting. ‘Pleasant day, I hope?’ ‘Huh? Oh – yeah, it was okay,’ he says, excitement dancing bright and lovely in his eyes. Before Magnus can query it, Alexander quickly drops into the seat next to him, leaning forward as he tells Magnus, ‘Listen – I was thinking it over on my lunch break, and I think I’ve decided on a wish.’

Magnus sits up from his stretched-out position, swinging his legs off of the couch and banishing the book back to his lamp’s library with a flick of his wrist. ‘That’s wonderful news,’ he says, gesturing upwards with both hands, allowing his fingertips to spark in lilac and mauve, inordinately pleased when Alexander’s eyes widen. Magic, he had decided centuries ago, was as much showmanship as science. ‘So tell me, Alexander – what does your heart desire?’

Alexander takes a deep breath, and speaks as though he’s consciously slowing his pace down – though, notably, not enough to return to his normal speed. ‘Okay. So. My sister, Izzy, and her husband Simon – they’ve been trying to have a baby, and I was wondering if you could, you know, help with that?’ It takes all of Magnus’ considerable self-control not to raise an eyebrow at his phrasing. Unfortunately, it’s a wasted effort, as Alexander seems to realise the next moment what that sounded like, and turns a delectable shade of cherry red regardless. ‘I mean,’ he says, his voice a little stilted with embarrassment, ‘they’ve been having IVF treatment, and the last two attempts have failed, and they have their last chance tomorrow, and – I don’t know, if it’s possible, or-‘ Magnus holds up a hand, halting the ramble. ‘Alexander.’ He smiles gently. ‘Of course it is possible. You are not the first wish-maker to ask for something like this, not by a long shot. I’d be happy to help.’ He lets his smile widen into a teasing grin. ‘Final answer?’ Alexander nods, looking relieved and happy, the tension draining from his posture. ‘Yeah. My first wish is for Izzy’s IVF tomorrow to succeed.’

***

The next day, Magnus arrives at the clinic fifteen minutes before Izzy’s appointment. Five minutes later, a familiar couple arrives, and the woman says, ‘Hi - Isabelle Lightwood, I have a 3:15 appointment with Dr Anderson?’ They take a seat not far from him, and Magnus peers at them discreetly over his magazine. Alexander showed him a photograph of the two of them together, but even without that, he thinks he could have recognised them. Isabelle looks very like her brother – the same dark, shiny hair, earnest hazel eyes, and strong, serious brows. She’s holding onto her husband’s hand, a slightly shaky smile on her face as he rambles on softly, encouragingly, and she looks lost somewhere between excited and afraid.

They’re called through, still holding hands. Magnus ducks into the restroom, checking that it’s empty, and snaps his fingers, changing his appearance with a glamour. He heads back into the waiting room, picks up a different magazine, and takes a seat in a chair closer to the corridor they left through.

Some time later, they reappear, a slight shuffle to Isabelle’s gait and Simon’s arm curled loosely around her waist. Magnus puts down the magazine, and pulls a cell phone out of his pocket, frowning down at it as he strides towards them. He gives a soft grunt of apparent surprise as he bumps into Isabelle, his palm briefly resting over her navel and sending a spark of magic into her system. ‘Oh – so sorry,’ he says, flashing each of them an apologetic smile before he continues on his way.

He resists the temptation to look back, and leaves the clinic out of the side entrance.

***

When he arrives back at Alexander’s apartment that evening, Magnus immediately spots him stretched out on the sofa, in much the same way he himself was earlier. ‘Hey!’ Alexander leaps to his feet, switching off the television and putting his half-empty bowl down on the coffee table, before rushing over until he’s stood right in front of Magnus. Excitement and fear are warring on his face, a sight breathtakingly similar to what Magnus saw in Isabelle’s expression earlier. ‘How’d it – well – Did it work?’ At this point in the proceedings, Magnus isn’t even surprised to find himself smiling anymore. Alexander just seems to have that effect on him. He reaches out, stilling the excitement somewhat with a hand at his elbow. ‘It went perfectly,’ he said. ‘A small nudge, a hint of magic, and voila – wish granted. I expect that in a few weeks, Isabelle will be calling you with some very good news.’

Alexander beams at him, and maybe he’s been stuck in the lamp for too long, because until just now Magnus had forgotten why smiles like that were likened to sunlight. ‘Thank you. That’s just – God, I’m so happy for them. Thank you for that.’ ‘You’re most welcome, Alexander.’ He drops his hand, making a small shooing motion. ‘Go finish your dinner, you’ll get indigestion leaping up in the middle of a meal like that.’ Alexander does as he’s told, but calls back over his shoulder, ‘Yours is on the table, if you’re hungry.’ Magnus blinks, trying to school his face back into something casual. ‘Thank you,’ he says. He’s been saying that a lot, since he got here. He wanders over to the table, humming appreciatively at the sight and smell of a generous bowl of tagliatelle, with just the right amount of Bolognese sauce stirred through it. He snaps his fingers, simultaneously reheating the food and conjuring a light dusting of parmigiano-reggiano.

He walks back out to the living room, a little surprised to see that Alexander hasn’t resumed the show he was watching, and is instead turning to face Magnus as he takes a seat. ‘I hope it’s okay,’ he says. ‘It’s from an Italian recipe book my parents bought me for Christmas.’ He chuckles. ‘I’m not what you’d call a natural chef, but give me a list of instructions, and I’ll get there.’ Magnus samples a forkful of pasta. It’s a little light on the garlic for his taste, but it’s delicious, and he digs in eagerly. He was hungrier than he thought, and he can sense Alexander’s satisfaction at providing adequate sustenance for his houseguest.

Alexander turns back to his own meal, and Magnus takes the opportunity to look at him surreptitiously, curiosity once more curling around his thoughts. When Alexander’s gaze flicks back towards him suspiciously, he realises that he wasn’t being as surreptitious as he thought. ‘What?’ Alexander asks. ‘Do I have Bolognese on my face?’ Magnus chuckles, shaking his head. ‘No, no such thing. It’s just…’ He trails off with a shrug, but Alexander stays focused on him as they finish the last mouthfuls of their meals. Magnus banishes the dishes with a lazy wave of his hand, and Alexander smiles in appreciation, but doesn’t say anything, clearly giving Magnus the opportunity to continue speaking.

Which, eventually, he does. ‘I meant it, before,’ he says, ‘about people wishing for children, for successful pregnancies. It’s very common. But this is the first time I can remember someone making that wish for a loved one’s sake, rather than their own.’ Alexander looks down, and Magnus wants to tell him that it’s certainly nothing to be embarrassed about, but he doesn’t want to interrupt when Alexander starts to speak. ‘I don’t know, it’s just… She’s wanted this for such a long time. And after they kept trying, and getting nowhere, and decided to start having the treatment – she was just so upset. She came over, and she was crying, and I knew I couldn’t do anything to make it better for her.’ He swallows hard, and Magnus almost winces in sympathy. ‘Then, after the two failed IVF attempts… She was putting a brave face on it, talking about the possibility of adoption – which obviously, is a great option, I mean, Jace was adopted and we wouldn’t be without him – but I could just tell, that even if she wasn’t out of options, another setback was just… I wasn’t sure she could handle it.’ He looks up at Magnus, and his eyes are shiny, and Magnus is pretty sure his own are too. Alexander shrugs. ‘I don’t know, it just seemed like the right thing to do. If I’ve got a way to help her, I want to, you know?’

Alexander’s looking at him like he’s expecting derision, criticism for some naïveté on his part. Magnus smiles at him, and sighs. ‘You continue to surprise me, Alexander. I’ve granted a lot of wishes, but rarely one so selfless.’ Alexander looks down at his feet again, mumbling something that might have been a thanks, or possibly another I don’t know, and Magnus makes a mental note that while he’s here, he should make a habit of giving compliments. Alexander could really use some practice receiving them.

But for now, he changes the topic, lightening the mood once more. ‘By the way, I couldn’t help but notice your bow,’ he says, gesturing to the wall behind them, where a navy and silver bow is proudly mounted on the wall. ‘It’s in beautiful condition, so either you dust your décor more than anyone I’ve ever met, or you actually use it.’ Alexander smiles. ‘Yeah, I’ve been into archery for a while now. Probably since I was… fourteen? Maybe? I’m not great, but I enjoy it. It’s good for some downtime – helps me switch off my brain.’ Magnus snorted lightly. ‘I’m sure you’re being modest.’ Novices had simple recurve bows, not nearly as difficult to wield as the compound contraption behind them. ‘You’ll have to dazzle me with your skills sometime.’ He winked, fully expecting Alexander’s blush, but fully delighted by it all the same. He might not be here for long, but there was no harm in flirting a little while he was, he reasoned. After all, Alexander was sweet, and handsome, and possibly one of the most thoughtful men Magnus had ever met.

Plus, he had always found people who could handle their weaponry very, very attractive.

~oOo~

#shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfic #malec #malec fanfic #shtv #malec au #genie!magnus #food tw #medical tw #ivf tw #infertility mention #mine

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years

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Their Hero Academia – Chapter Forty: Answer the Call

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Small computer monitors, built into the desks had popped up, along with keyboards, so that Class 1-A could review their Internship offers. Everyone in the class had gotten at least two, though from how Aizawa had phrased it, Isamu guessed one of those came from someone’s parent.

And he had over thirty-five hundred. Not quite as many as Midoriya, but way more than anyone else in the class. How on Earth was he going to sort through them all? How would he know what the right choice was? There. Were. So. Many.

He looked down at the offers, currently displaying Hero names, agency names, and rankings. He recognized most of the names, though there were some he didn’t. His eyes fell on one a few lines down from the top. With a click, he opened it.

Turbo Hero: Ingenium – Number Six Hero – Team Ideaten

Mister Haimawari,

Congratulations on your victory during the Sports Festival! You demonstrated a remarkable level of speed and skill during the course of the Festival and acquitted yourself with honor. As you may know, while we employ a variety of Quirks at Team Idaten, we focus primarily on mobility Quirks. As such, I believe we would have much to offer you should you chose to intern with us.

Though he refuses to provide specifics, my elder brother, Tensei, had insisted that I extend you this offer. I would have regardless, but it appears your name carries considerable cachet with him.

…Well then. That was off to an encouraging start. Dad spoke pretty highly of the former Ingenium. And the current one made the news pretty often as well. There was no denying he was a great Hero, if a bit on the stuffy side. It was a good offer and could probably teach him a few things about his Quirk. But he had a lot of other offers to consider.

He scrolled up the list and opened the next one.

Blast-Radius Hero: Ground Zero – Number Four Hero – Ground Zero Agency

Congrats on beating Deku’s kid! I don’t know why everybody’s talking about you, but ditch those losers and come intern with me instead!

Isamu blinked slowly. “So… that was a thing that happened,” he said quietly. He opened the next one again, without looking to see who it was.

Shoto – Number Three Hero – Hot and Cold Agency

Haimawari:

My apologies, I never expressed my thanks for your attempts to aid my daughter during the first week of school. You must know that she speaks very highly of you.

Your performance during the Sports Festival was nothing short of incredible. It’s quite obvious that have real potential and talent. If you’ll allow me the opportunity, I would like to help further your growth and take you as my intern. We face a wide variety of challenges at my agency, and I think it would be an excellent opportunity for you to broaden your skillset.

“No… freaking… way!” he said, this time louder than he expected.

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Kirishima-Bakugo growled, looking up from her screen. “You’re still all wowed that you won. Give it a rest, Newb.”

“I… I got offers from Ingenium, Ground Zero, and Shoto,” he said.

That fixed her attention on him, then a laugh. “Of course. Dad probably figured out Izzy’s dad was gonna send you one and didn’t want to be outdone.”

Mineta leaned over from her desk to look at his screen. “I got one from Ingenium too! Something about “a week of discipline and thoughtfulness,” blah blah blah.” She pointed to his screen. “Hey, you didn’t open the one from Deku yet.”

“Oh,” he said, “yeah, I guess I should check that one out.”

He looked back at his screen before realization hit.

Can Do Anything Hero: Deku – Number One Hero – Mighty Agency.

“…What.”

***

“…What.”

True, earlier, Principal Nezu had told her that a Pro Hero had expressed interest in taking her on as an Intern. But that had also come in the midst of them talking about her potential future in the Hero Course and everything that had come with that. And even once she’d allowed herself to entertain that option, she definitely hadn’t been expecting what she saw on the screen on the tablet All Might had handed her.

Can Do Anything Hero: Deku – Number One Hero – Mighty Agency.

Miss Kocho,

Wow! You did an amazing job at the Sports Festival! One of the best results for a General Education student ever! You should be very proud of your Third Place victory!

I talked to All Might and he says that you got knocked out during the Entrance Exam? Completely unfair! It’s no wonder you were trying so hard! I’m glad to see you never lost your fire!

As you may know, I work closely with Hitoshi Shinso, a former General Education student just like yourself, and an Underground Hero known as the Voice. He was very interested in your performance during the Festival and in your story, and frankly, so was I. While he doesn’t have the necessary credentials to take on an Intern, I do, and if he should just so happen to be around while I’m offering advice and tips to you and the other student I’ve extended an Internship offer to… Well, these things happen.

I checked the rules and there’s nothing preventing me from giving an offer to a student who’s not in the Hero Course, so I went ahead and put one in. I’m hoping Nezu and the other teachers will let you!

P.S. I have so many questions about your Quirk!

Deku

“You,” Koharu began, “you’re going to let me accept this, right?” She hesitated, then added, “Please.” There was no way they would. She wasn’t a Hero Course student. She had no training, other than what she’d taught herself. She’d sparred with friends, but prior to the Sports Festival had never really fought anyone. She didn’t even have a costume!

Nezu smiled beatifically. “Yes… and also no,” he said. “Have you heard of the concept of a “ride along”, Miss Kocho?”

She shook her head. She could probably guess from context, but honesty here would be best.

The Principal continued. “You don’t have even the most rudimentary Heroics training, so placing you directly in an Internship would be inadvisable and potentially quite dangerous. But we do believe it would be beneficial for you to accompany a Hero and see some of their action firsthand, as well as receive training from them. It should be quite useful in bridging the gap between where you are now and where you’ll need to be by the time Summer Break and the Training Camp come along. So while you will be doing less than other Interns… We see no harm to deny this request.

“Besides,” he added, “if the Number One Hero believes in you, who are we to deny such potential?”

***

Isamu stared at the top entry on the screen in front of him. He had to be imagining it. There was no possible way this was real, especially not with offers already from Ingenium, Ground Zero, Shoto, and countless others.

As though acting of its own volition, he clicked the message to open it.

Can Do Anything Hero: Deku – Number One Hero – Mighty Agency.

Haimawari,

Congratulations on your Sports Festival victory! I remember what it felt like to win in my second year; I can’t imagine how great it must feel to have won in your first! But victory doesn’t necessarily prove anything, instead it’s having the heart of a Hero that truly matters, the willingness to Go Beyond and give it your all.

Based upon what I saw during the Festival and what Toshi has told me about you, I truly believe you have the heart of a Hero. You’ve shown incredible skill and heroic instincts besides. A great man once told me that part of what makes a Hero is when your body moves on its own, responding to heroic instincts before your conscious mind even has a chance to consider your options.

If you would like to be my Intern (and make a lot of bookies really, really mad), I’d be delighted to have you.

Deku

Still stunned, Isamu leaned back in his seat, numbly listening to the others discuss their own Internship offers.

“Who’d you get, Chi?” Mineta asked. “Any hotties?”

“I haven’t even heard of some of these people,” Kaminari said. “I guess there’s Power Line…”

“Total hottie. And an electric music hero! Perfect for you!”

“He’s, like, fifty, Mika.”

“So he’s a silver fox.”

“…I’m getting you neutered for Christmas. Besides, Aunt Momo scouted me too. She says she’s got some ideas to help keep me from shocking my brains out. So I’m gonna go with her. You gonna go with Miser Iida?”

“Eh, maybe,” Mineta replied. “Highest ranked Hero on my list, anyway. He is pretty cut, for a dweeb with glasses…”

“He’s married, Mika. His children are our classmates. And you’re fifteen!”

“Just because an item’s not on the menu doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy looking at it!”

Isamu made a quick mental note not to go with Ingenium’s offer. It probably would have been a beneficial Internship, but if it meant that close to Mineta for a week, he’d probably lose his mind.

***

“Oh, wow! Oh, wow! Oh, wow!”

With a small smile, Izumi looked to her left, where Shota looked so excited she feared he might leap from his chair and run about the room. “Good news, Shota?” she asked. “Promising Internship offers?”

He’d gotten five, she recalled. She was happy with her own offers; she had honestly gone into the Festival not expecting to get any at all, a fear she’d maintained after her fight with Katsumi. But perhaps she had not done so badly at all.

He gave her a big grin, purple eyes shining. “Ground Zero sent me an offer!”

“I really gotta talk to Dad about his dropping standards,” Katsumi said from the back of the room, but Shota did not appear to have heard it. Izumi would not repeat it.

Instead, she continued to smile. “Good news indeed,” she said. “Will your accept it? Or are you considering any other offers?”

“Oh, I’ve got to take this one!” he bubbled. “Ground Zero is the coolest! He just blows all the Villains away and doesn’t take nothing from nobody! He’s got a ninety-five percent capture rating and his fights are always so extreme! And there was the time he fought Blast Radius and he was all “You think your explosions are big, but mine are bigger and badder” and then…”

“Breathe, Shota,” Asuka said, sounding a bit tired of having to remind Shota to breathe instead of talking a kilometer a minute.

“What about you, Toshi?” Shota asked. “You did so good! And you got so many offers! Was it your dad? No, wait, Uncle Shota said they couldn’t do that, how about Izumi’s dad? Or…”

Toshi laughed at that, making the little pink disks on his cheeks stand out all the more as his face flushed. “Uncle Kacchan did send me an offer, actually. Said “I can show you all the stuff your dad won’t!’” Toshi laughed again. “But I’m going with Uncle Mirio. He sent me and offer and said he’d been planning this since my Quirk came in. And also that he’d be very sad if I didn’t say yes and I really just can’t deal with that.”

“And what about you, Asuka?” Izumi asked.

Asuka put a finger to the side of her beak. “I have several compelling offers, Shota. Several bird-themed Heroes, a few familiar-manifesting abilities as well. Though I’m not sure which one to take right now. Aunt Toru has made a fairly compelling case for offering to teach me some options for stealth.”

“Your Quirks are rather different though,” Izumi said. “Is that a good match?”

The bird-headed girl shrugged. “One of many reasons why I’m mulling it over. I suspect this is coordination on our parents’ part, but since I also have many other offers…”

“You should do what is best for you,” Izumi told her. “I am certain she would understand.”

“Izumi’s right,” Toshi agreed. “You’re got to be future-thinking here.”

Asuka nodded at that. “Many good options to consider. And not all that much time to do it in.”

“So who’d you get, Izumi?” Shota asked. “Polar Claw? Burnin’? The Maid of the Mist? No, wait, what about Thriller-Chiller? He’s so cool! Or what about Smoking Hot? Mineta says she really likes her, but I don’t get why…”

“All of them, actually,” Izumi replied. Quite a few well-known Heroes with ice or fire Quirks had offered her an Internship, actually. Not completely surprising. Burnin’ had even been one of her grandfather’s sidekicks once upon a time. And yet there was one offer in particular that truly caught her attention.

The Stun Gun Hero: Charge Bolt – Number One Hundred Twenty Hero – GrapeBolt Agency

Izumi,

Hey, kid. Great job! I didn’t get to see things first hand—stuff came up—but I did get to watch the tapes afterwards and boy was I impressed! I bet your dad and Yaomomo are pretty proud of you! I sure wish I could have been there to see Bakugo’s face when you beat Katsumi.

Anyway, I’m sure you’re going to get a lot more offers than from your old Uncle Denki. Probably that Burnin’ lady or maybe one of those ice guys, I can never keep track of all of them. But the one thing I do know? I know what it’s like to have a Quick bounce back on you and I’ve gotten real good at figuring out how to avoid it. I only shock my brain maybe once or twice a month now.

So what do you say?

***

“Who’d you get, bro?” Takuma asked.

Kenta shrugged. He hadn’t even bothered opening his yet. Two Internship offers. Some of the fewest in the class. He hadn’t even been able to use his Quirk during the Quirkball stage of the Festival. And it’s not like he’d have been able to take a bite out of any of his classmates, even if he’d made it to the Tournament round.

His Quirk was a strange mutation from different parts of his bloodline. His grandmother on his dad’s side’s Quirk to bite through anything, his mom’s Quirk to absorb other materials into herself, and his dad’s power to eat sugar for strength without any other harmful effects had all gifted him with the ability to bite through and eat anything. It was fantastic for web-content, great against robots in training, even great for a quick escape from cuffs. But not exactly the kind of flashy Festival stuff most of his classmates had.

“Hey, relax, bro,” Takuma said. “Don’t go getting all sad on me. Open up your offers! Nobody gets to be depressed when I’m around. Don’t feel bad just because two is less than seven!”

In spite of himself, Kenta smiled. Takuma was a good friend. He looked over his offers. One from someone named Teppanyaki that he’d never even heard of (his tagline was The Tappan Hero) and… Suneater?

“The hell?” he said out loud.

Takuma leaned over to look at his screen. “Dude! Suneater? Nice!”

“Probably just because all our parents were talking to each other,” Kenta said.

“Dude. He’s a Top Ten Hero. All the friendship in the world isn’t going to get him to stake his reputation on nothing.”

Kenta frowned. “Maybe. Beats the alternative, I guess. Get anything good on your end?”

“Kamui Woods,” Takuma said. “Dad did his Internship with him, learned a lot. But he’s getting up there in years. Probably going to retire in a few. Tsukuyomi too, though. Which, I mean, he’s got aesthetic coming out his ears, but I don’t know if I can pull off dark and brooding.”

He put a fist under his chin and squinted his eyes. “Darkness,” he said in a growly voice. “Moonlight. Shadows. Revelry in the dark.”

At that, Kenta couldn’t help but laugh. “I sweat, I will give you five hundred yen if you manage to get a shot of you doing that with him in the background.”

“You think I won’t?”

Meanwhile, the Twins were engaged in discussion of their own.

“Do you think you can find a satisfactory Internship, Little Brother?” Sora Iida asked.

“Perhaps,” Tensei Iida replied. “Turbo-Force and Veloci-Queen are respectable high speed Heroes, and the Futurian is extremely well regarded in the fields of action-science. The offer from Tentacole is somewhat more curious though, as I am not certain we have much in common.”

“I have a similarly strange offer from Tailman,” Sora replied. “And other offers to consider as well. Rocket Ranger and Fastlane would certainly be useful in refining my speed, though it is a shame there are so few actual flying Heroes for either of us to choose from.”

“Indeed. That does make the decision more complicated. It will do neither of us any good if we can so easily outpace our mentors…”

***

“Cellophane? Really? That is the highest ranked offer I received? Qu'est-ce que c'est?”

Kimiko looked to her left, where Aoyama was boggling at the screen in front of him. “What’s wrong with Cellophane?” she asked. “Uncle Hanta’s nice!”

“Nice he may be,” Aoyama said, turning to look at her. “But he lacks a certain je ne sais quoi.”

“Could you please speak Japanese?” she whined. Her gossip buddy he may have been, but all the time he spent speaking in freaking French really grated on her. “I don’t even know what that means!”

“I don’t know what,” he said.

“Why would you say something if you don’t know what it means!”

“Non, no… It means, “I don’t know what.” He is lacking in… something. Something I cannot put into words.”

Kimiko crossed her arms. “Well, now you’re just being mean.”

Aoyama shrugged. “These are the facts, I cannot help them. But still, he may well be my best bet for raising my profile…”

Yeah, she was bored with talking to him now. She leaned back to look around him. “Koda! Shoji! Anything good?”

Koda turned to regard her. “Mrs. Tokoyami has extended me an offer to join her in protecting the waters for a week. The Safari Samurai has also been gracious enough to give me an offer of internship, though I confess my parents do not speak very highly of him. He drapes himself in the trappings of the jungle, while having no special love for it. So I am inclined to go with the more familiar.”

“Aw, Auntie Tsu’s great!” Kimiko bubbled. “You’ll have a fun time! …You can swim, right? No offense.”

Koda laughed at that. “None taken, Ojiro. And yes, I can swim. I am surprisingly buoyant.”

Shoji’s soft but handsome (Seriously, he had to be the best looking guy in the class. Voted on by all the girls and Takuma.) features stayed largely neutral, but she saw a small smile tug at his lips. “Real Steel is my most promising offer,” he said, and she was hoping he would say more, just so she could listen to his baritone voice. “Power-Punch and Extendar for my other offers.”

“You’re going to go with Real Steel, right?” she asked. She checked her phone for a moment. “There’s, like, one video each of those other guys on HeroWatch. Go where the action is!”

“Most likely,” he said.

“And whose attention did you catch, Ojiro?” Koda asked. “You garnered a fairly impressive number of offers with your performance.”

“Oh, well,” she rubbed the back of her head. “I kind of had this figured out beforehand. Doc Clock—Doctor Izumi—she wanted to take me around with her anyway, ‘cause of the medic training thing… But I did look at the offers.”

She looked down, then back up. “Lots of offers from Underground and stealthy-types. Which would be great... but that’s not who I want to be anymore. Just because I’m invisible doesn’t mean I have to be defined by that. I want to help people.”

Koda gave her a small nod. “Knowing yourself and what you want is often the first step to success.”

***

At the front of the room, Aizawa gave Midnight a look. “How much more time do you think they’ll waste?”

“Admit it,” she said, “you’re proud of them. They garnered a lot of attention. Takes you back, doesn’t it?”

“Hn,” he grunted. But she was right. He was proud of them, even Mineta. They’d worked together and worked hard. There wasn’t a one of them he didn’t believe it. Certainly, there were rough edges to sand down… Kirishima-Bakugo’s anger, Aoyama’s arrogance, Haimawari’s lack of confidence, his godson’s extroversion, and other things, but that wasn’t anything he and their other teachers couldn’t help mold.

“They’re talking with Kocho too,” Midnight told him. “Nezu’s ninety-nine percent certain she’ll want to make the jump to the Hero Course. He did some personality evaluations and thinks she’ll be best in your class. As long as you don’t think you’re getting to old for a bigger class.” She elbowed him in the side.

“We’re almost the same age.”

“Yes, but I’m in administration now. There’s a reason most of our friends retired. Not an old person’s game, Eraser. Even if the young persons are so… yummy.”

“Hn.”

“Speaking of our friends, do you and Emi want to join Mic and me for drinks this weekend?”

He gave her a look which suggested he’d rather be set on fire. “Generic excuse.”

“You did not just say “generic excuse!’”

“I said what I said.”

Midnight just shook her head and smiled. “I texted her before I got here and Emi already agreed to it. You’re going.”

“Betrayed again.”

“Think of it this way, Eraser. The internships haven’t been exciting since their parents were here. They’ll work hard, but for us, it’ll be a week to relax…”

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fic #fan fiction #my writing #shouta aizawa #toshi midoriya #izumi todoroki #isamu haimawari #katsumi kirishima-bakugo

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diasporatheblog · 6 years

Note

Can you tell us a little more about the ROS in the relation to their sexualities? I think it's really interesting. Like, their past relationships and stuff too, if it's doable. Also, what about different attitudes across the verse?

Versewise, a little of this probably came out in the earlier discussion of weddings, but to address it somewhat more directly: a wide variety of orientations are easily recognized in most places. In Castulia in particular, attraction to all genders is sort of the cultural “default,” the automatic presumption. Of course, if a person is only attracted to one or two genders or whatever, that’s not frowned upon. Some people might find it odd or quirky, but it’s not a subject of ridicule or anything.

The Iskendi are much the same in that respect, though they do have the hangup mentioned earlier about population and therefore heterosexual unions are strongly encouraged. Polyamory is more common among them, having been an accepted-though-nonstandard cultural practice for several centuries. Castulia’s still working out what it thinks about that, since it complicates inheritance and whatnot, but it’s not illegal.

The Cine are slightly more conservative, but not by a lot. Polyamory’s nearly unheard-of, and blood’s important enough that there’s a bit of pressure towards relationships in which children are possible, but it’s not the most urgent concern, and so not really a big deal.Cormac’s relationship history has been sparse, and entirely heterosexual, but romance in general hasn’t typically been at the forefront of his thoughts. His adoptive father Daghan is straight as an arrow, and while he never directly pushed Cormac to be the same, the way he led his life was one of the factors that led Cormac to be somewhat closeted when it comes to his sexuality. There’s an old-fashioned ideal of the Cine warrior with a massive family of his own children, something that Daghan couldn’t quite live up to, something that Cormac can’t help but aspire to. But that doesn’t change who he is, or the fact that he’s very strongly attracted to a PC that’s able to romance him, regardless of their gender.

Izzy was fairly promiscuous as a teenager, and while she’s had more relationships with other women than anything else, she’s very open to pretty much everyone. Recent years naturally cut down on her relationships by quite a bit, as Castulian slave-owners are typically none too fond of their slaves getting involved with each other. In general, Izzy is about as comfortable with her own sexuality as anyone you’ll find, and in general views relationships as great opportunities to get wrapped up and feel really strongly, for however long it lasts and whatever the consequences end up being.

Pan is, uh, pan. I swear that didn’t occur to us when we named them, but there you have it. Their work takes up enough of their life that they haven’t really bothered much with intensive, long-term relationships of any kind. They have, however, had more than a few more casual associations, and have generally found that this works pretty well for them. They are not shy about expressing interest, regardless of the other person’s gender, and see no reason to be. They’re also quite happy to be frank about related subjects in conversation—while insinuation and subtlety have their place, Pan prefers to make sure that the terms of anything beyond flirtation are specified and understood by all parties before it happens. They hate mess, loose ends, and asymmetric expectations, and so do their best to avoid all of that.

Aisling hasn’t really had all that much opportunity for exploring her sexuality, so to speak, but she knew from pretty early on that she sometimes liked men, sometimes women, and sometimes tréach, and that was fine by her. Of course, her general shyness, as well as her uncomfortable position in the clan, mean she’s rarely ever confessed to any such attractions. She tried a couple of times in the past, but was rather soundly rejected, so she tends to keep those things buried as much as she can. She’s nursed some feelings for the PC for a while, but doesn’t get her hopes up about them, thinking that they’ll go away on their own if she ignores them long enough. If the PC does the same, she does develop something of a crush on Izzy, but where any of these threads lead or don’t is largely a matter of what the player does in-game.

Sangarinus doesn’t generally think about romance or sex. He’s not completely uninterested, but does have to develop something of a connection with a person before any of the rest even occurs to him. He’s had a couple of short-lived relationships in the past, but never anything as meaningful as he’d want. Both of those relationships happened to be with men—fellow Lancea, to be precise. He finds women and nonbinary people just as good-looking on average, though attraction isn’t something that happens immediately for him.

#ask #characters #worldbuilding

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vaguelyrotten · 3 years

Text

Like a Lily in a Flood

Title: Like a Lily in a Flood Artist: @myulalie Beta: @another-random-stranger Pairings: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, mentions of Jimon and Reyhill Word Count: 70k Warnings: Mild Gore, Beheading, Nearly being eaten alive and burned at the stake, Discrimination, Sickness Summary: Alec returns home to find his town plagued by a mysterious illness. Unable to find a cure, he ventures into the woods to seek help from an unlikely source. We must not look at goblin men... This fic was created for the Shadowhunters Mini Bang 2021: Presented by the @malecdiscordserver

Chapter Four

Isabelle’s ingredients turned out to be a handful of seeds, spices, and spirits that they hadn’t had in the storeroom at the manor. Alec knew that he could pick up a majority of the ingredients at the general store. The others he would have to ask around for...and hope he got lucky. He tied Flame to the hitching post out front and went inside.

A bell jingled gently as he pushed open the door. The store was owned by Lucian Greymark — the step-father of the girl that Jace was absolutely smitten with. Lucian had been in his father’s army until an injury had forced him to retire early. Luke had always been kind to Alec and his siblings and had always paid them more attention than Robert had when the kids had visited or accompanied their father on routine patrols where they didn’t expect to see any action. He still helped out around town where he could — even if most days he was found working at Greymark's General Mart.

Luke was nowhere to be seen today, apparently, as it was Clary’s mother Jocelyn behind the counter. “Alec? Is that you? By the angel, look how much you’ve grown. You were barely eighteen when you left us!” She stepped around the counter to pull him into a tight hug. “How long has it been? Two years? Three?”

“Five, actually,” Alec replied. “Next year will be my last year of school.”

“My gosh, how time flies. What can I help you with today. I hear your mother is out of town — are you here for your household’s weekly order?”

Alec shrugged; he hadn’t known that there was a weekly order but if he was here, he might as well pick it up. His mother had left him in charge of running the manor in her absence, after all. “Well, I wasn’t, but I can certainly pick it up while I’m here. Izzy wanted me to grab a few things for her while she was preoccupied.” He pulled the list out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Do you have all this or know where I could get it?”

She scanned the small piece of parchment before nodding. “I think I’ve got most of it. It will take me a few minutes to put it together. Do you want to wait or would you like to come back? Shouldn’t take me long...maybe twenty, thirty minutes tops. If you’ve got other errands to run, now would be a good time.”

“I’ll come back, thank you,” Alec replied with a smile. “I want to stop by the Dough-Re-Me Bakery and pick Max up a treat. It’s been a while since he’s gotten to be spoiled by his big brother.”

“I’m sure he will most certainly appreciate it. This will be ready for you by the time you return.”

----------

The bakery was owned by the older sister of one of Alec’s old classmates. He and Andrew had been good friends growing up and they had often been the guinea pigs for Ava’s recipes before she’d finally been able to buy the bakery of her dreams. It may be the only actual bakery in town but Alec knew that she would be willing to whip him up a sweet treat for his younger brother if she didn’t already have any available.

The store was empty when he first entered, but a set of sleigh bells hanging on the door handle announced his arrival. Alec waited patiently, knowing that Ava was likely up to her elbows in dough in the back room. When the door behind the counter finally swung open, it was Andrew who stepped through.

“Alec? My gosh, when did you get back? I thought you’d gotten too good for us out there in the big city!”

“I haven’t been back long,” he laughed, extending his hand to Andrew. “Two weeks or so — my mother called me back to keep an eye on things while she went to Alicante to petition the king for help to find a cure. I had some errands to run so I thought I’d stop by and pick up something for Max while I was in town. Is your sister around? I was hoping to get some of her famous caramel cookies.”

Andrew’s smile faltered and Alec knew that he’d said something wrong. “Unfortunately, Ava has fallen to the stone sickness.”

“I’m so sorry,” Alec replied, grasping Andrew’s hand tighter and pulling the other man into a hug. “I didn’t know.”

“This illness isn’t your fault...and your father was one of the first to succumb. It seems no one is safe,” The other man sighed and stepped away from the hug. “In the meantime, I’m doing what I can to keep this place going. I can bake but I can’t work the wonders in the kitchen that my sister can. I hope your mother and the council are successful in Alicante. A cure for this cannot come soon enough.”

Alec wanted desperately to reassure Andrew that one way or another — whether his mother gained the King’s support or not — that he was determined to find a cure. How do you tell someone who was raised to be terrified of the magic that the woods hold that you’d gone to that very place looking for the monsters who live there in hopes that they could offer help that could save the town? He was fairly certain that the other man wouldn’t judge him for attempting to go to the goblins for help, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up regardless.

“Something will come, I’m sure of it. Everything happens for a reason,does it not? ‘After the storm, the sun will shine again’ as the saying goes…Now, I’ve got some time before Jocelyn has my order ready. Is there something I can help you with while I wait? We can catch up.”

----------

Helping Andrew around the store took longer than Alec had expected, but it had been nice to catch up with him despite the rather unfortunate circumstances surrounding it. By the time he made it back to Greymark’s General Mart, the sun was high in the afternoon sky. The bell over the door caught Jocelyn’s attention and she looked up from the counter. “Ah, there you are. You get tied up at the bakery?”

“Just catching up with Andrew,” he replied, stepping up to the counter and removing his coin purse from his pocket. “I haven’t spoken with anyone outside of my siblings since I moved to Alicante. We used to go to school together.”

“That’s right, I forgot that you’re a few years older than Clary. Such a shame about Ava — we’ve lost too many good people to this blasted illness.”

“Speaking of...Luke — is he…?

“Oh no!” She replied quickly. “Lucian is absolutely fine. We’ve had a lot of the guard fall victim however, so he was asked to go to the border to assist with strategy. Apparently there have been some skirmishes with the locals and being down so many men right now has the Captain worried. Lucian might not be able to fight any longer but he still has his tactical mind.” She handed him his change and patted his hand reassuringly. “I’ll tell him you said hello though. Hopefully, he’ll be here before you head back to the city. I know that he’d like to see you.”

----------

By the time Alec returned home, the sun had long since dipped below the treeline and Jace had apparently returned from the job that he had taken.

“Did you forget how to get to town since you’ve been gone?” His sister asked, barely looking up from a piece of parchment in her hand.

“No, I spent the afternoon helping Andrew out and catching up with him,” Alec replied, placing the bags that he had been carrying on the table next to her and fishing around in one for a small, white box. “I was hoping to pick up some of Ava’s caramel cookies but I didn’t realize that she’d fallen ill. You’ll have to settle for chocolate chip instead.”

Jace jumped off the corner of the table that he’d been perching on and made a desperate grab for the white cardboard box.

“I thought you were full,” Isabelle stated, leveling a glare in her brother’s direction. “That’s specifically what you said when I offered to make dinner.”

Jace winced all too aware of the lie that he’d just been caught in. “That was then and this is now. Besides, am I just supposed to say no to free cookies?” He replied, stuffing one in his mouth and holding the box out in her general direction as a peace offering. She hesitated for only a moment before she sighed and accepted a cookie.

“If I remember correctly, Ava was one of the first people outside of the soldiers who got sick.” She flipped the paper that she was holding over and pointed. “See: Ava Underhill - May 1st. She’s at the top of the list right underneath father’s men.”

“This is a list of everyone that’s gotten sick?” Alec asked, taking the parchment from her and paling as he realized just how many names were there.

“Since the beginning,” Isabelle replied sadly. “We just added three more names today. Trust me, a cure cannot come soon enough.”

“Speaking of — any luck with the paste? Or did we hit another dead end?”

“I haven’t been back upstairs yet...let’s go take a look.”

----------

Their father lay unconscious and unmoving and exactly how they had left him earlier that morning. The disgusting green goo that they’d rubbed on his arms had dried, leaving a slightly less disgusting flakey mess in its place. “Well, the clean up will certainly be easier than the application,” Alec muttered, scrapping at some of the residue that had been left behind. “I don’t think I’ll ever get the green out of my skin.”

“Oh, quit complaining,” His sister replied, following suit with their father’s over arm. She poked at the skin that had been revealed and then frowned. “Alec...I think it did something. He doesn’t feel as cold...and his skin isn’t exactly as hard? I mean, it’s definitely not entirely a cure but it’s definitely something.”

Alec finished flaking the rest of the paste off and tapped his father’s arm, repeating the process on an area of skin that they hadn’t applied the poultice to earlier. “It’s… I don’t know. You’re right...somehow. Magnus did say treat the symptoms and maybe they would lead to a cure. It’s a start...but I wouldn’t be getting my hopes up that we’ve managed to do what the various physicians couldn’t.”

“Those physicians didn’t have my stubborn older brother and his determination to take care of his family. We should make some more of that paste… and it can’t hurt to try some of the tea I whipped up earlier too…” Alec could already see his sister’s mind going a thousand miles a minute with all the possibilities that had now opened up with the first start of...hope.

“Izzy,” He grabbed her shoulders gently and forced her to stand still for just a moment. “Iz, just remember...this is a start, alright? It’s not the cure but it could lead there.” She nodded her understanding and Alec couldn’t help but pull her into a hug. “Alright, now… you want to make some more, you said? What can I do to help?”

----------

Long after his sister had finally finished ordering him around, by some miracle, he’d been able to herd her off to bed. He closed his bedroom door behind himself and sighed, glancing briefly at the clock as he did. If he managed to fall asleep within the next half an hour, he could get a few hours of rest before he had to be up to rein his sister in before she worked herself half to death trying something that may or may not work.

He began the arduous process of getting himself ready for sleep, realizing for the first time since he’d gotten home from his trip to town earlier that day just how exhausted he was. He laid down and closed his eyes when a sudden frantic buzzing had him jolt away. He sat up in time to see a small piece of paper fall to his bed and ignite the end of his quilt as it landed. He jumped out of bed, throwing the quilt onto the floor and beating at the small fire with his pillow until it was fully extinguished before slowly picking it up to get a closer look.

He couldn’t keep the small smile from his face as he read.

My darling Alexander —

I hope this letter finds you well. I apologize if I gave you a fright… it only occurred to me once I’d already made up my mind to send it that most non-magically inclined people may never have seen a fire message before. Ragnor assures me that I’m being a blind and besotted idiot but alas, there are some parts of our souls that we just cannot change.

I hope you are having much better luck than I am in finding a cure for the people of Idris. My poor friend Raphael remains very much allergic to sunlight. We’ve spent the day pouring over all of Ragnor’s books but between my innate magical ability, Ragnor’s tendency to be a packrat, and Catarina’s healing, we’ve yet to find something that actually works.

Though we only had three short nights together, I cherished the time that we were able to spend together. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Alexander, and I do hope that one day our paths will cross once again. (Preferably sooner rather than later.)

Until then,

Magnus Bane

PS - I just now realize that this might be a little awkward with leaving you no way to return the letter. I forget that not everyone has access to magic. Until I find a solution, I’ll just have to imagine your responses.

Magnus had included a sketch below his signature of a sprig of what looked like rosemary (though Alec had to admit that he was certainly no expert.) He knew that Magnus had gone over the plant’s meaning and medical use during the few days that they had spent together but without going back downstairs to cross reference the pages of handwritten notes that he’d left in the workshop, he knew that the meaning of the plant was would remain a mystery until the morning.

He set the letter aside, hiding it under some letters from family in the drawer of his end table, and let himself drift to sleep with a content smile on his face.

----------

Two weeks later, he and his siblings were no closer to finding a cure outside of their mild success with the disgusting green paste. His father’s skin had remained hard but the paste had helped by returning some of the natural color, replacing the greyness that they had come to associate with the illness.

Unfortunately, his father remained unconscious.

“I hate to say it, Alec, but we might need you to go see if Magnus could offer any more assistance,” his sister stated with a sigh, wiping the remnants of their latest attempt at some sort of tea off on a towel that he had passed her. “I’ve tried everything I can think of here...I just don’t have the knowledge that someone who grew up in the woods would have. Our ancestors weren’t exactly close with the goblins...there’s probably a ton that the books haven’t included.”

Alec had known that eventually he’d be asked to venture into Edom Forest once again and he’d been anxiously counting down the number of recipes that were left in the little journal that his sister had been keeping. They’d crossed the last one off the list early the previous day and he’d been waiting for his sister to broach the topic of needing more knowledge or ingredients ever since.

Truth be told, there was another reason that Alec wanted to go try to find Magnus but that he’d never admit to Isabelle and Jace. Ever since Magnus’ first letter — fire message, he reminded himself — had come the day after he had returned home, he’d received at least a short message every night. Three nights ago, however, the letters had stopped and Alec had grown increasingly worried each night that passed without one.

His instincts told him that something had happened and that Magnus was in trouble and Alec had learned early on to listen to those instincts when they were trying to tell him something.

“Well, the plus side is that at least this time I have a way to find him,” Alec replied, trying not to seem too eager as he patted the chest pocket where he’d kept the magical coin since his return. “Do you have a list for me? Or do you want me to see what Magnus comes up with?”

His sister looked him over with a judgemental eye and Alec was certain for a moment that she could see right through him. “I’ve got a list, but I also wouldn’t be opposed to you picking your goblin’s brain for any other information that he can offer us.”

“I can leave shortly — just let me pack enough for a couple of days just in case and I can head right out.”

----------

By the time Alec finally set out to head to Edom Forest, he was an ever growing bundle of nerves. He couldn’t get to the woods fast enough. He spurred his horse down the dirt path without even hesitating at the entrance as he had each of the prior times he’d come before. Once he was past the entrance and where he was certain the wards that Magnus had mentioned before began, only then did he finally bring Flame to a stop so he could fish the coin out from his pocket without risking losing it.

Magnus had only given him the barest instructions on how to use the coin so he would just have to trust in the magic that apparently made it work.

He held the coin cat side down in his hand and waited a few tense moments where nothing appeared to happen. Finally, the coin spun slowly before pointing down a trail that Alec was fairly certain he hadn’t taken before. He closed his hand over the coin and continued to ride, pausing every so often to check the direction that the arrow was pointing.

He rode hard for the remainder of the day, wishing that Magnus had included some sort of spell to tell him just how close he was getting to his target. As night fell and Alec’s horse began to breathe heavily from the day’s exertion, he was starting to worry that he wouldn’t stumble across Magnus before the darkness completely took over the woods.

There was an unnatural scream from straight ahead and Alec was instantly on guard. Flame reared and Alec lost his balance and fell from his horse’s back in a way that he hadn’t since he’d first learned to ride. The gelding took off back the direction that they’d come from, leaving Alec sitting in the mud alone. “Hey! Flame! Get back here!”

There was another roar — this time louder and closer — and all the natural sounds from the woods came to a complete halt. The birds had stopped singing, the frogs had stopped croaking, and the crickets had stopped chirping.

A silent woods was a dangerous woods and Alec realized very quickly that he had made a grave mistake.

He dared not move hoping that whatever predator was in the woods somewhere in the darkness ahead chose not to come this way and investigate further.

He held his breath knowing that he’d have no such luck. That’s not the way things worked for Alec Lightwood.

There was no further shriek that came, but the crashing through the undergrowth grew louder and closer. He glanced up at the trees around him wondering if he could scale them as quickly and as quietly as his little brother could. Finally the movement stopped and Alec...couldn’t breathe. “Sire! Over here — we found somethin’!” A voice half-screamed, half-mewled from somewhere off to Alec’s left. He could only sit there frozen as the voices grew closer, and Alec found himself about to face the Goblin King himself.

A man stepped out of the undergrowth wearing a tattered suit of red and black that appeared to have mushrooms growing out of each shoulder. His feet were bare and he was wearing a hat that sported a gold and white feather that belonged to no bird that Alec had ever seen. “Well, well, well…” The man started, holding up the lantern and allowing Alec to finally notice his eyes.

Familiar cat eyes stared down at him with a mocking expression on the unfamiliar face.

“What do we have here?” The man asked, bending down to get a closer look at Alec. “A human, how strange. You’ve somehow managed to make it past my son’s protective wards and found yourself this far into the forest, without running into any of the beasts that lurk in the shadows waiting for their unsuspecting prey. What shall I do with you?”

He inched closer and Alec tried to scoot backwards, running smack into a set of legs that ended in clawed bird feet. The man grinned, his smile a little too large and his teeth a little too pointed for Alec’s comfort as he took a tentative sniff of the air in front of Alec. “Well isn’t that interesting. You smell of that stupid brat that wandered into the woods not too long that didn’t realize the danger that he walked right into...and there’s something else.” He took another sniff and the wolfish smile was replaced with a scowl. “And my son’s magic. You reek of him.”

There was only one person with magic that Alec had any sort of regular, well irregular, contact with in the last few weeks...at least to his knowledge.

That meant...Magnus.

Magnus was the son of the Goblin King himself.

Magnus was a prince.

“We’ve found hoofprints,” the goblin with the bird feet spoke up, his voice a whistling trill that was painful to Alec’s ears. “Not ones that belong to that damn vicious beast that he rides around on. These are shod — the horse was wearing shoes.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me sooner?!” Asmodeus screamed, his anger materializing in a flare of angry red magical flames behind him. The goblins took a few hasty steps back, terrified of their king’s power. The bird-footed one waited until the flames had subsided before he took half a step forward, his hands raised in peace.

“We were hoping to catch ‘im, they were often traveling together. We thought you would enjoy being gifted your son and his new toy.”

Asmodeus took a deep breath, apparently calming his nerves in a way that Alec was sure wasn’t actually working. “A little bit of warning when my son is involved is always preferred, especially after the brat stole something that was rightfully mine.” He glanced down at Alec, the disgust clearly written on his face. “Perhaps…”

He snapped his fingers and a mole-like goblin with large teeth and long toes scurried forward. “Yes, sire?”

“My son stole from me, so I shall take something that belongs to him. Take him back to camp; it looks like our dinner came to us today.”

Alec found himself roughly shoved backwards. Two goblins held him down, with a third coming up behind them and quickly began wrapping thick rope-like vines around his hands and feet. He thrashed about, trying to free himself from the goblin’s grasp, but one of the creatures holding him sent a quick jolt of magic through his body, effectively freezing his limbs. Alec opened his mouth to scream, hoping at least to be able to shout for Magnus and hope that the half-goblin was close enough to hear, but found that no words would leave his mouth.

Asmodeus grinned slyly at Alec’s bound state before turning and disappearing back into the forest, expecting his crew to follow after him. The bird-like goblin waved a hand in Alec’s direction and Alec found himself slowly lifting into the air and floating after the troop of creatures.

As the group moved back to whence they came, Alec could hear the screams and squeals turn to song. It was the same tune from the first night he’d spent in the woods — the one that Magnus had used magic to prevent him from hearing so he wouldn’t be called to the goblin’s camp. Just like before, he could feel the song call to him, promising him things that he knew it could not deliver. It was electric and inviting; but this time, Alec found himself not drawn to the mystery, magic, and danger that the goblin song contained.

Maybe it was something that Magnus had done or maybe the forest was having some sort of effect on him, but all Alec knew was that the song that had once lured maidens into the woods and lone travelers into their camp wasn’t working.

Their trek to camp lasted an hour. He begged and pleaded to whatever god would listen that Magnus would suddenly pop out from behind the trees and save him, but in his heart he realized that was wishful thinking. The woods were vast and full of dangers. Magnus accidentally coming across the goblins when he normally went so far out of his way to avoid them and protect himself from being found and hunted was little more than a dream.

When they finally reached the camp with the caravans that Alec had seen the night that Magnus had taken the medallion, the bird-footed goblin snapped his fingers and Alec fell quickly to the ground, the impact knocking the wind out of him and causing him to grunt in pain. “Where would you like the horrible creature?” The goblin asked Asmodeus as the king removed his hat and tossed it inside the red caravan with the black roof (the very one, Alec noted, that Magnus had gone into that night.)

“Well, I said dinner, so dinner he shall be,” The goblin king replied with a shrug, glancing over the crowd of assembled beasts. “Would you like stew or roast tonight?”

The creatures screamed and squawked in a language that was unintelligible to Alec but must have meant something to Asmodeus. The goblin grinned with that same unsettling smile he’d worn earlier. “Roast it is then. Get the fire going and get him ready. We’ll eat well tonight — a reward for all your hard work.”

The creatures left Alec lying in the dirt as they dispersed to take care of their assigned tasks. He rolled to his side and tried to push himself to his feet as he struggled against the thick vines wrapped around his limbs. “Now, now, little human. Where do you think you’re going? We can’t have a feast without the main course now, can we?”

An electric and biting wave of angry red settled over him like a small bubble, and Alec found himself even further trapped. “Good boy. Stay there until we’re ready for you.”

Alec’s bubble was too small for him to truly push himself up into a sitting position so he could only watch from his prone position on the ground as the goblins prepped for their meal. Meal. Asmodeus’ words were finally registering in his mind and Alec felt his blood run cold. They were going to eat him. He watched as two goblins finished piling up some firewood and called magic to their fingers, starting the large cooking fire with none of the ease that Magnus did.

They were going to roast him.

He needed to get out of here because this was not how he dreamed of meeting his end. He’d hoped that one day he’d grow old and die peacefully in his sleep as so many of his ancestors had. He refused to be eaten.

He tried to scream, but the words got stuck on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t sure if that was from the bubble or the magic that had been used on him earlier but even if he had been able to speak, it would likely have been a lost cause. What’s the point of screaming when there was no one around to hear him except the very creatures that were currently preparing to cook him?

He tentatively probed at the bubble with his foot and hissed in pain as a sharp jolt of electricity shot up his leg. Okay, so touching that thing was definitely not an option. He had to find another way out of here…

What would Jace do right now? He knew for a fact that his brother had his fair share of squabbles that have ended with him tied up, in chains, or in jail (and sometimes all of the above.) He was sure that Jace had needed to get himself out of seemingly impossible situations before.

So what would Jace do now?

He could almost hear his brother mocking him in his head. ‘How did you manage to make such a stupid mistake, Alec? Dad taught us to be more aware when danger could be afoot...but right now, you’re in a damn fucking mess and you need to get out of it. So...what do you have?’

What did he have? And what could he access with his arms bound the way that they were?

He had the clothes on his back - not useful. At some point, they’d divested him of his hunting knife so that was no longer in his pocket. He had the list from his sister, a crushed flower from the last time he’d been in the woods, and…

The coin.

He still had Magnus’ coin.

He knew that the coin’s main purpose was to lead him to Magnus’ location, but to do that, it used magic.

Alec didn’t know a lot about magic. Hell, he pretty much knew nothing about magic outside of what he had learned from Magnus, but there was one book that he’d come across in the manor’s library (which he’d been spending more time in than his own bedroom these days) that had focused on spells and enchantments that could be used by non-magical people. He hadn’t had a chance to do more than flip through it since they’d been so busy with trying to find a cure that he hadn’t wanted to waste time.

There was one thing he did remember from the few pages that he’d perused however. The book seemed to mention on each page that there was a special kind of magic in blood…

And that Alec did have.

Maybe there was a way to use his blood to reverse engineer the magic in Magnus’ spell. Instead of the coin showing Alec to Magnus, it would lead Magnus to him instead. It sounded like an absolutely impossible and improbable idea but it was the only idea that he had right now and he was very quickly running out of time.

Based on the cheering that was coming from the center of camp, Alec had a feeling that the goblin’s dinner preparations were close to complete. He wiggled as best as he could to get his arms in a position where they could secret the coin from his pocket. Once that was safely in his hand, he glanced around his cramped prison. He could bite himself, if necessary, but that was both tedious and way too obvious. He was hoping that there would be something he could use…

There.

Half-hidden under leaf litter and moss was a rock with what appeared to be an edge that was sharp enough to slice through his skin. Unfortunately, that rock was up by his head, and with no way to twist his body to get his arms closer within the confines of his bubble, that left Alec with no choice but to draw blood from the only part of his body that could reach.

His face.

He scooted a few inches closer, all the movement that the bubble afforded him, and placed his cheek on the edge of the rock. He paused only a fraction of a second to take a deep breath and steel his nerves before he pressed his cheek into the stone and drug it across quickly. He felt the blood start to dribble from the fresh cut and he sighed in relief. Now, to find a way to get some to the coin and pray that he could work some magic of his own.

He couldn’t lift his hands and move it closer to his head, but he could tilt his head and move it a little closer to his hands. With more flexibility than he realized that he had, he was able to smear a few drops of blood across the surface of the coin. Now, to pray for a miracle.

Alec closed his eyes tightly, remembering that Magnus had said that magic often worked through intent, and poured every ounce of his willpower and belief into accomplishing what he hoped he could — leading Magnus to him the same way Magnus had told him that the coin would lead Alec to him.

Please, Magnus, I need you. Be my knight in shining armor. I can’t get out of this one alone.

He felt the air pressure change and opened his eyes to find that the bubble was gone. He hoped to be staring into Magnus’ eyes but was sorely disappointed. Cat eyes indeed stared down at him, but they were unfortunately set in Asmodeus’ face and not his son’s. The goblin king had a hungry expression on his face. “Praying won’t help you, human. Your gods have no power in these woods. This is my domain. My rules. My decisions. And I’ve decided that you’re going to be dinner for my court.” He snapped his fingers and two of the more animalistic creatures rushed forward. “Get him up and ready.”

The rat-like creatures dragged Alec up into a sitting position and began tearing at his shirt with their sharp claws, the tips brushing his skin and leaving angry red welts. He closed his eyes, knowing that fighting would get him nowhere, and continued his silent mantra with the coin still pressed tightly into his palm.

Please Magnus, find me, please.

Suddenly the goblins froze, listening as there was a shout from somewhere behind Alec that followed by the sound of crashing and screams as creatures scrambled out of the way of whatever beast was heading towards them. Alec twisted his head, hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster before he met his untimely (but still better option than being cooked alive) end.

The noise came to a slow stop just a few feet from him, and he could hear the heavy breathing of an exhausted horse.

#shmb2021 #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #fanfic #like a lily in a flood

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festiveboydanielhowells · 6 years

Text

figuring things out (chapter 12)

Summary: Prince Daniel of Eithoia has been seeing Lord Philip in private for years, despite his marriage to Princess Isabella. Up until now, it was never an issue for the three to be together. No one anticipated for the Princess to have an urgent announcement, and now anticipated that it would impact Dan and Phil and their countries as much as it did.

Warnings: pregnancy, smut, mentions of violence, swearing, vomiting, kidnapping

Tags: fluff, (horribly written) smut, royalty AU, polyamory, pregnancy

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Twenty-first of February

Steeple Palace, Kings

You would think living with someone would alleviate the need to be near them, but it really doesn’t. Dan thinks maybe he’s just clingy, but that would mean Isabella and Phil are equally as clingy as him. It’s nice, knowing that they want him near them the same way that he does.

But right now, Dan really needs Phil’s cock inside of his ass. “Phil,” he whines, pushing back against Phil.

“Would you wait a minute? I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice is tight, and Dan feels pride in knowing that he caused Phil to unwind like this. Isabella and Julia are off somewhere, Dan’s certain that she left specifically to escape the sexual tension between the boys. They were nearly eye-fucking each other this morning.

Dan’s learned that even if three people are in a relationship together, it can be super awkward to have sexual tension between two people and not the third. Dan doesn’t blame her, though, for leaving. There’s been moments where Isabella looks at Phil so intensely Dan sort of wants to crawl away.

Phil circles Dan’s rim with a lubed finger, pulling Dan back into the moment. He tries to press down against the finger, but Phil just removes it and gives him a disappointed look. “No fucking yourself,” he scolds, which is so much hotter than Dan would’ve thought it would be. The finger returns, this time Phil presses the pad of it against Dan’s entrance and applies a bit of pressure.

The finger slips past the rim and Dan groans at the intrusion. It doesn’t hurt, nor does it feel good, it just surprises him is all. He doesn’t bottom often, but he really should, because Phil is so good at topping. Within seconds, Phil is curling the singular finger upwards and, fuck, there it is. Dan feels his chest tighten in pleasure and bites his lip to keep from moaning out Phil’s name.

They don’t need the whole palace to know what they’re doing.

But Phil pulls his lip down with his thumb as he slowly thrusts in and out with his middle finger. “Wanna hear you,” he explains, breathlessly, “wanna hear you moan.”

Who is Dan to not comply with the prettiest boy in town? That’d just be a sin.

So, he let’s loose, grunting and groaning, crying out when Phil hits his prostate again. “Add another,” he encourages, grinding his hips in mid-air to gain some friction. “Please.”

Phil obliges, slipping another finger into the bottle lube (and ignoring Dan’s mewl of desperation when he pulls out) before slipping both fingers past the rim of Dan’s entrance and picking up his pace again. Phil tries to aim deeper than before, hitting Dan’s prostate head-on instead of from a diagonal. Dan’s surprised he doesn’t cum right then and there, but he holds off because Phil’s slipping in a third finger and, yeah, the stretch hurts like a bitch but it’ll be worth it.

He grinds his hips down again the fingers inside of him, a bit breathless and very horny. Phil pulls his fingers out and Dan lets out a slew of, “Fuck me, please, please, Phil, fuck me—” before Phil begins to bottom out slowly.

He avoids Dan’s prostate at first, trying to just allow Dan’s body to get adjusted to having a cock inside of him, but Dan pushes down at an angle and Phil gets the memo. He adjusts the angle and begins to thrust in and out slowly, the slap of skin-on-skin driving him mad with a hunger for Dan.

Phil bends down and connects their lips, grabbing Dan’s cock in a fist and jerking him off in time with his building thrusts. It isn’t until he gets into a steady rhythm that Dan slaps his hand away, and Phil let’s go. “Don’t want this to end,” Dan grunts, and Phil nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He feels the familiar coil of heat twisting in his stomach, his balls draw closer to his body and bucks into Dan faster, trying to chase the feeling of euphoria.

With one more thrust, he cums inside of Dan, grunting and breathing heavily. Dan follows, fucking himself on Phil’s cock and working through his orgasm. “God, I love you,” Dan murmurs, moving up to kiss Phil and causing Phil to slip out of him.

“I love you, too.”

“Shower?”

Phil laughs, but follows Dan to their bathroom happily as he starts the water.

“Sir, Ms. MacKenna would like to have an audience with you.”

The guard is kind, Dan appreciates that she announces herself before tapping his shoulder as to not startle him. “Of course, just give me a minute,” he marks the page of his book with a bookmark (his mother-in-law had given it to him for Christmas. That was literally all he got), before standing up and stretching. Phil mumbles something beside him and tries to pull him back down but gives up and goes to cuddle Isabella instead.

Dan feels a bit of love swell in his chest as he follows the guard down the steps and to the foyer. A woman is there wearing grey robes—not uncommon, lots of local religious groups where robes during rituals to show symbolism. Underneath her robes is a white floral shirt that barely peeks through at all. She curtsies as soon as her blue eyes lay on Dan.

He bows as well before offering his hand, “Your Highness,” she says, shakily. “I’m Rose MacKenna.”

He nods, taking her silence as a moment to allow him to speak. He assumes she won’t speak unless he tells her to, anyways. “You don’t have to bother with formalities, it’s just ‘Dan’. Here, take a seat,” he gestures to the cushioned chairs beside a small table in the foyer. It’s not usually sat in, but it’s convenient and they won’t have to travel through his house in order to speak. “Why are you here?” He tries to keep his voice level and light in order to seem as unintimidating as possible.

It doesn’t appear to work, she just shakes more. “I—” She steadies herself with a breath. “I was originally part of the rebellion,” Dan focuses on showing no emotion to her words. “They… they would lock me up. I’d go d-days without food or water.” Her thin frame is covered by robes, but Dan is sure that if she changed into casual attire her ribs would show. “I-I need a job, but n-no one will take m-me in. I asked a woman down the street, Louise, and s-she said to come to y-you,” her bottom lip is shaking, and her eyes refuse to meet his.

“Of course, we’ll have the staff vet you to see where they believe you’ll work best.”

“M-may I hug you?” She asks, still shaking.

“Of course,” he opens his arms and wraps her into a short embrace before pulling back. “Now, Emilia will show you the multiple openings we have, and we’ll locate you in some open quarters, okay?”

“Dan, you want to look for the good in everyone, I get it—”

“Izzy, she needs a job,” he whines, “what was I supposed to do?”

“Interview her properly to make sure you don’t kill your family!” She exclaims, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Baby,” he whines softly, trying to put his hands on her hips. She grunts and steps back. “Trust me, baby? Please?”

Phil has tried to butt in, to remind both of them to just follow common sense but neither listened. So, now, he’s scrolling through Twitter on his phone.

Izzy huffs at Dan but pulls him into a hug regardless. “Can we watch Ponyo?” She asks, and Dan nods.

“We never finished watching Howl’s Moving Castle,” Phil points out from their bed. “And someone started watching Criminal Minds without me,” he scowls in Dan’s direction playfully. Dan hops onto their bed, pushing Phil to the side playfully as he adjusts pillows.

“You’re one to talk,” Dan shoots back, “you watched the whole series of B99 without me,” Phil ignores his statement, pulling Dan closer to his chest instead. Izzy takes it as an invitation to sit on the other side of Dan and combs her fingers through her hairs.

They select the movie and curl into each other, watching everything with intense interest. It’s a way to wind down, to watch kid movies until they’re tired and fall asleep.

Isabella has other plans, as the credits roll in, though. She selects a horror movie (it looks like a knock-off of The Blair Witch, but neither of the boys tell her that) from the list and hits play.

Phil’s stomach feels queasy as the movie progresses. He’s good with jump scares and horror generally, but this is suspense. It’s gory and bloody and he hates gore. He gags a bit, internally, as fake guts fly across the screen. “God, I hate this.”

“C’mon! It’s a good movie,” Dan defends. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to hold you?” He says it so sweetly and innocently that Phil just nods and buries his head into the crook of Dan’s neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles into Dan’s shirt, and Dan says something in response, but Phil can’t really hear it. He focuses on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Izzy’s arm has stretched across Dan to massage his shoulder gently. He gives her two thumbs up to show that he’s feeling a bit better. “Sorry for being a little bitch,” he apologizes, but his head is still buried in Dan’s shoulder and his voice sounds scratchy still.

“It’s fine, baby,” Izzy assures him, “besides, you’re our little bitch.”

Phil gives an unconvincing laugh at that and allows himself to block out the slashing sounds from the television. Instead, he focuses on his breathing and eventually manages to lull himself to sleep.

Dan has woken up in the middle of the night. He looks over to read their clock and see what time it is, but all he sees is darkness. Then, something moves and he’s able to read the clock again: 3:18 a.m. He groans, rolling into Phil’s side.

And then he feels something cold and metallic against his throat.

“Come with me,” a voice urges him and he nods anxiously. Just don’t hurt the babies, he prays, silently.

He gets up, slowly, careful not to wake Isabella. She’s a heavy sleeper, of course, but he’d hate for her to wake up and God knows what this person will do to her then.

She doesn’t move, thankfully. Dan’s able to get out of their bed without too many issues. He follows the hand on his back, careful not to walk into the knife on his throat.

He holds his breath as the move through the palace and towards the gardens. Dan feels his heart sinking as he realizes with certainty that this woman is a guard. The guard he hired this morning. No one else will be guarding the side exit to the gardens, and therefore, she’s able to walk out with him.

And it’s his fault.

He knew better.

He focuses on steadying his breath and keeping his eyes trained ahead. There’s no chance of escape, there never was. He wishes he could go back and smack his former self for letting a stranger into his home.

“Stop in the name of Prince Philip!” A commanding voice calls, and Dan relaxes with the realization that they’re on his team. “Release the weapon from the Prince’s neck!” She does, but not before dragging it along playfully, as if this is fun for her. He feels the knife pierce his skin—a papercut, barely, but he still winces. “Approach the gates,” the guard commands, and she obliges, pulling the back of Dan’s shirt towards the palace. “Drop him.”

She does, Dan knows this because he hits the dirt with a thud.

He wakes up with a headache, lying in the infirmary bed. A nurse is fussing over a particularly nasty bruise forming on his knee, but he shoves her hand away, “What the hell is happening?”

“You’re perfectly healthy, sir, there was a chance of concussion and we had to check to make sure you weren’t severely harmed.”

He nods, sitting up. His head still hurts, and when he brings his hand to the pounding, there’s a massive swelling beside his temple. He groans, reclining again and allowing Phil to give him a frown. “You’re lucky I’m a light sleeper after scary movies,” Phil mutters. “I woke up to cuddle you after a nightmare and you weren’t there. I knew something was wrong.”

Dan’s never been more grateful for Phil’s terror of gore before now. After all, who knows where Dan would be if it weren’t for Phil wanting cuddles. “God, I love you.”

“You’ve told me a few times,” Phil says, cheekily. His joy falls away as he wraps his arms around Dan, and Dan notices Izzy standing behind Phil.

“Don’t you ever,” she slaps him, “do that again.”

He holds his cheek in shock. It doesn’t hurt, but Dan wasn’t expecting that. “I’m sorry,” he says, though he’s not sure what he’s sorry.

“That bitch can die,” she says. Dan nods uncertainly. “Tomorrow.”

He nods, understanding now. She wants the woman to be sentenced. Tomorrow. “Yes, ma’am,” he averts his gaze. There’s no malice behind his words, he’s sincerely terrified of Isabella.

His mother is there, too, but she hasn’t spoken yet. Her lips are pursed and she’s shaking her head at him before leaving without a word.

“Where’s Julia?” He asks, but Phil just rolls his eyes.

“It’s seven a.m., Dan, you set back all of the chores. Julia is working in the kitchens because most of the kitchen maids were trying to help you.”

Dan’s heart hurts a but from that, and he feels so much worse for leaving them. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Phil’s gaze softens behind his glasses.

“We forgive you, baby. Just… not again, okay?”

Dan nods, and the nurse gives him a ‘okay’ to go back to his chambers.

He collapses back into their bed, catching up on his lost sleep, and curled around his partners.

#phanfic #phanfiction #phan #phan au #phan smut #phan angst #phan fluff

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