#it’s been nearly 11 years and he hasn’t left. for the love of God help me. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kandadiff · 1 year

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Van Der Wulff : Love & Marriage

11 o’clock came and went and a cold anxiety set over most of the girls in the house. Especially when parents started to come into the house. After breakfast draven quickly got dressed, placed her phone on loud, and sat in the living room waiting for us to come in. Lighting a cigarette to pass the time. When we didn’t return by 11, her mind went deep in thought.

While it wasn’t normal I would just disappear to nowhere without telling anyone. But sometimes I did, but always with someone. She didn’t know if Damien and I made up, if so then maybe I was with him? But why wasn’t I here right now? Maybe Negan? Or I could still be with my parents and if they came and I was with them she would feel ridiculous for worrying so much.

As for you, this was 100% strange. You wouldn’t be with your parents. You couldn’t last alone with your mother or stepfather and as for your father. You could only stand him in hour intervals. No, maybe you were with Xavier and sent him last night to get something for you - but why would he go in through the window? If you were with him - you had keys. And if you were with him why was your phone dead? He lived in the dorms and nearly everyone had an iPhone charger. Plus she texted SOS and it was left ignored. That wasn’t normal.

Katyas family was the first to arrive and immediately noticed the mood shift in the house. “❄️what’s wrong?” He asked his daughter. She was now dressed in an dress and due to her nervousness she was clutching at the bottom of it, wrinkling the cotton fabric. She quickly filled her father and sisters in.

“You should start looking for them.” He said and Draven nodded putting out her ciagrette and standing up.

“I’ll help!” Marie, Katyas younger sister by 2 years piped up.

“Oh my god!” Naomi rolled her eyes walking out of the kitchen with presents in her hand. “Why just want to spend Christmas away from us. Don’t be so clingy, Draven.”

“Excuse me?” Draven’s icy tone caused Naomi to backtrack.

“I-I mean like, if they want to spend time away from us just let them.” She shrugged “I’m going to Namjoons.”

“It’s not about us spending time with us” Draven snapped “it’s about making sure they are okay.” Naomi looked down and sighed mumbling a pathetic apology. “You’re going to Namjoons? Check if either of them have been there.”

“Why would Adi be there? She hasn’t spoken to them since before they left? And Hoseok and Yoongi have a girlfriend- Kay wouldn’t here there.”

“Just check!” Draven snapped harshly at her causing Naomi to jump. She sucked her teeth and moved through the living room and out the door. For a moment it was silent.

“I’ll check too.” Katya said pulling out her pink phone and tapping a few buttons and walking to the kitchen. The doorbell rang and everyone looked towards the enterance. Makayla answered only to see Gabrielle De Silvia, her husband and Maddy on the other side. They all wished her Merry Christmas with smiles which quickly turned to puzzlement when Makayla asked if you were with them.

“No” Gabrielle’s smile faded. “She’s not here on Christmas? This is a family holiday! I slugged myself on a 10 hour flight to get here from France and she can’t even be here to greet her mother? Where is she? With that useless boy? Oh my goodness. Madison!” She called out to Maddy who was right next to her. Maddy turned “call the boy and tell him to get her over here right now! This is completely ridiculous.”

Draven rolled her eyes and grabbed her jacket. “We’re going to go look for her.”

“I’ll wait here.” Gabrielle waved her hand as though dismissing the girls and placed her perfectly wrapped presents under the silver Christmas tree. “I’ll wait for her here even though she is being completely disrespectful by wasting my time.”

“Other people are coming. Parents.” Draven said her voice dripping with attitude. “Can you let us know if her or Kay show up when we’re gone?”

“I guess.” She shrugged sitting on the couch “do you girls have wine? I need a drink.”

“I will.” Katya’s father nodded. “I’ll make sure you parents are entertained as well.”

“Thank you papa.” Katya said walking out the kitchen her phone in her hands.

“Ladies! Drinks?” Yo ur stepfather asked looking around.

Ignoring your parents, Draven grabbed her keys, passed Makayla and Katya theirs before moving out the door.

~ Mexico ~

Luther and I sat in silence. He had brought me food that I hardly touched. He tried to prove he didn’t do anything to it by eating some of mine but I couldn’t bring myself to eat. I just drunk the tea he’d given me, he said it would help with my throat which felt raw from all my screaming. We were sitting in the kitchen, though it offered me no freedom. Around my waist was a thick metal chain clicked in place with a simple that pinched into my skin if I moved to much. It was attached to the guest room via hook built into the floor. I didn’t ask why it was there - I didn’t want to know. Besides pinching my skin it wasn’t long enough to reach any door but the bathroom and the guest room. He had told me that himself when he put it on me.

“Just for now. Just for upstairs.” He said petting my head like some wild animal he had caught and was trying to domesticate. “I can’t fully trust you up here yet. But I promise it is temporary.” I said nothing in response.

While he ate and I drank i familiarized myself with the lock, touching it under the table trying to compare it to locks I’ve picked before. I was sure I could pick it with the hairpins but given the weight of the chain I’d have to do it quickly with as little noise as possible. Which in itself was difficult.

When he decided we were finished eating, he took my plate and cup and washed it in the sink while he whistled an old jazz tune. I focused on the lock. I did recognize the type but I would have to break both Bobby pins to even get it open, if it could work. Something sharp would be better, like a knife but he’d never give me one. And what if it didn’t work. I would only have 4 Bobby pins left. Besides he said this was only for upstairs. In the basement I could move around more and I could expirement with the lock there. Though he knew the navigation to the house better then me. He could more easily catch me if i came up the basement rather then up here. Plus by the lack of windows in the basement I had no way of knowing whether it was night or day- or whether he was asleep or not.

“You’ll just hurt yourself if you try and get out.” He said watching me and pulling me from my deep thoughts. For a moment I wondered if I accidentally spoke outlaid but then he motioned to the chair handing tightly from my waist. “The more you pull on the lock the tighter the chains get.” I dropped the lock, it fell into my hip and I winced. He wiped his hands of water and sat next to me. “Let’s talk, okay?” He spoke softly as though I was a toddler. I nodded.

"I want to explain myself further." He folded his hands and smiled at me. It sent a shiver down my spine. "I love you." he said watching em closely. I just kept looking at him refusing to give him anything. "And I was 100% serious. When I think of the future all I see is you and me. Maybe a couple of kids running around. I'd let you name them" he smiled as though it was a joke I was supposed to be in one. "Since you know I've had mine."

"And about Naomi? and your wife?" I tried hard to keep my voice level. Just stating facts and nothing more.

"Once she sees how in love we are, she'll come around. She's a good girl, she'll welcome you. I know Eli and Renee will. They knew my marriage with Whitney has been over for a while." His smile returned. "I've already signed and sent out the divorce papers to Whitney, she should be getting them in a few days. Then as soon as we receive them, we'll get married. Theres a small church near by and I've already gotten you a dress. I want to do it right. I want to be divorced before I take a new wife." My stomach lunged, thankfully since I had no contents in my stomach I managed to keep it down. He waited for a response but I didn't give him one. I was unsure if I could without a burst of emotion so playing with my hands under the table. I waited for him to continue. "Of course I want to do it right. And I'd like for you to walk down the aisle with a smile on your face and for you to be as excited as I am. for you to be as in love as I am." He reached for my hand but I jerked backwards out of his touch.

"Love? Love? How can you say that to me?" I was unable to hold my tongue. My voice shaking as I spoke and I felt tears burn my eyes. A mix of rage and sadness covered me like a blanket and I was using it as an armor. "You kidnapped me, you chained me up like some dog, drugged me, bashed my head into a wall and threw me into a basement. You took me 1000 miles from my family, from my friends, with no where and expect me to love you. You are a sick man and I feel sorry for you."

He took my words in, and for a few moments the world around us was silent. Until he yanked down the chain that bounded me to this hell house. The chain painfully pinched my skin and I yelped as I fell down on the chair. He tightened his grip and I tried to hide my pain, digging my nails harshly into my legs. He twisted it until I let out a pained wail and he clapped his hand over my mouth and nose cutting off my air.

"Feel sorry for me? Don't flatter yourself, you little bitch! You should feel sorry for yourself because if we don't get happily married by the time Whitney processes those fucking papers! Then you will just disappear here." He shoved me back. The chair skittering across the floor and into the kitchen counter. I quickly stood up and he stood up in front of me. He towered over me but I wasn't backing down. "Wipe that look of your face, even if I won't do it there is plenty of cartels looking for pretty girls to have fun with. Plenty fo brothels that would pay a lot for a pretty American girl."

"You wouldn't." I spat at him.

"Why wouldn't I?" He leaned down to me, his black eyes burrowing into me. "If you don't marry me, you'll be a stranger. And I don't care what happens to some whore I can get a couple of thousands for." We kept up eye contact "Think about it smartly, you brat" his voice dug into my ears like an unwanted parasite. "Think what they'll do to you. They will use you until you're bleeding out of your eyes and then after - if you're lucky they'll kill you. and don't bother trying to speak your fucking Spanish and convince them of anything. I already scouted out a few very interested men."

"How do you know they won't turn on you?" I hated how my voice trembled. "Kill you instead."

"Because I have connections that you don't have here, snowflake. I am the big bad wolf and you are in my territory."

The wave of hopelessness overcame my entire body and I broke looking at the wall behind him. I could no longer stop the tears that now flowed fretfully from my eyes. I needed to think of a plan but my mind felt like a tangle of wires. My thoughts all crashed into one another making a huge cloud of despair in its wake. "Then I guess... we're getting married." The words felt foreign in my mouth like I was watching myself say it.

"Happily?" he was baiting me but I didn't respond. I knew it upset him, his body became stiff and he pulled me toward the basement door. I started to scream again and he shoved me down the stairs. He yanked at my hair and squeezed tightly on my wrists until he threw me inside the room locking the door behind me. And shamefully I cried again. It didn’t quite hit me until then that he had no intention of bringing me back home safe. The hypotheticals he raised weren’t fantasies, everything he said so far was his plan and I had to get out.

~ Greece ~

Wandering the grounds of the mansion proved to be uneventful. Most of the servants seemed scared to look at you and every time you asked for something they either pretended to really couldn't understand you.

You searched nearly every room for a phone but you found none. No phones, no computers, only TV's that played everything in Greek. You managed to find that maid from earlier (who's name was Catherine) and asked her for a phone. She told you simply "sit still, girl. Your fiancé will be home soon."

You finally settled by the pool, looking over the ocean thinking of everyone back at home. How long would it take them to notice you were gone? Were they looking? Would J tell them you left with Shawn? How would Xavier react-

You jumped out of your skin when you felt familiar arms wrap around you like a hunting snake. Shawn kissed your cheek and whispered "god, your fucking beautiful" in your ear while pressing you tightly to him. "Merry Christmas, my love."

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joannie95 · 3 years

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I Hope

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: When the love of your life breaks your heart you hope he feels that same pain

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst

A/N: Oh my god its a miracle I actually wrote something. This story is base off of I Hope by Gabby Barrett I had fun writing it and I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you to @mo320 and @celestialbarnes for helping me with ideas and looking over the story.

As I sit with Bucky in the coffee house, I start to reminisce over our last few years together. Since the beginning it felt like he was it for me, I pictured a life with him. Get married, have a few kids, and grow old together. I reached across the table and held his hand in mine. I give him a loving smile but notice his attention is elsewhere. This has been happening more and more lately. I don't want to admit to myself that somethings wrong because as soon as I do, that future I've always pictured together could come crashing down. "Are you alright Bucky?"

"Hmm?" He quickly looks up from his phone before closing the screen. "Sorry what?"

"I asked if you're alright? You seem distracted." I try to meet his eyes but he seems to be doing everything to avoid them.

"Yeah I'm fine, listen I know this is short notice but I have to go. Steve needs me at the shop a car part got delivered but no one can find it." He gets up ignoring your protests of never spending time together anymore. "I'm sorry, I'll see you at home." And with that, he's gone.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, coffee long forgotten. There's a tap on my shoulder, I look up and see my friend Peggy. When Bucky and I started dating I became close with his best friend Steve's girlfriend.

"Y/N how are you?" She pulled me into a tight hug. "Where's Bucky? I thought you two were spending the day together."

"Yeah um, we were but he said steve needed his help at the shop. It's ok though." I was trying hard to convince her but it seems like I was trying to convince myself even more. "Are you here alone? Do you want to join me?"

Before she could respond Steve walks up to the both of you and puts his arm around Peggy. "Hey Y/N how are you doing, where's Bucky?"

They looked at each other when they saw the confused look on your face. "What do you mean? He was texting you earlier wasn't he? He said you needed his help at the shop."

Steve seemed just as confused as me after hearing that. "I haven't talked to Bucky all day." He looked towards Peggy then back at me. "Maybe you misheard him."

I quickly gathered my things and got up. "Yeah you're probably right, I should go."

Peggy grabbed onto my arm when I nearly stumbled in my attempt to rush. "Please stay, you can join us."

I quickly thanked her but decided it was best to leave. "No it's fine really, I need to go find Bucky." Once outside I tried to figure out what to do, I took my phone out and tried to call him. It rang three times before sending me to voice-mail, I tried once more and again it rang three times then straight to voice-mail. He had to see that I was calling him right? I decided it was best to just take a cab home and wait for him there.

Once I was home I couldn't stop panicking. Why did he lie to me? What was he doing? I'm not sure how much time had passed but soon enough I heard the door close and bucky walked inside. "Where have you been?"

He looks up with a smile as he's hanging up his coat. "Hello to you too."

I got off the couch and walked towards him. I want to scream but decided it's best to stay calm. "Where have you been Bucky? And don't tell me you were at the shop because I ran into Steve and he said he hasn't talked to you today."

"Doll." He takes a step towards me.

"Just tell me the truth, we can work things out but I need you to tell me the truth." I blink the tears away and try to steady my breathing.

"I'm sorry." He runs his hands through his hair and looks defeated. Either for what he did or being caught. "Nothing happened, I met her at work and she gave me her number and we started talking but we never did anything. I promise."

"But something did happen!" I turn away trying to keep my distance. "Is she who you left me to see today, just tell me that."

He looks down and kicks the ground. "Yes." He tries to take my hands in his but I pull back before he can. "I promise all we did was talk."

"Just tell me why? Am I not good enough for you? Am I not pretty enough? I thought everything was fine but obviously if you have to go looking for someone else it's not." All these doubts are finally coming out, I never wanted to admit them but deep down I think I've always felt this way.

"No that's not it, you have to believe me."

"If I was good enough you wouldn't have had to go behind my back and lie to my face to meet her. Just tell me why? What did I do?"

"I was stupid. Someone gave me attention and it made me feel good I never intended for it to go past talking I promise." He walked up to me and slowly reached towards me, this time allowing him he placed his hands on my cheeks and pulled me close. "I'm sorry, please forgive me. We can work this out like you said just please forgive me."

"I don't know Bucky." This is the love of my life, but I'm not sure if the pain in my heart from finding out the truth outweighs the pain of never being able to hold him again. I place my hands over his and spoke barely above a whisper. "Please don't ever hurt me like this again." I look up and see relief in his eyes.

He wipes away the tears that started to fall from my eyes before kissing me. First on my forehead, then each cheek, and lastly a soft turned heated kiss on my lips. "I promise I won't."

And I believed him, I started to trust him again and everything was going so great. Until it wasn't. The first few weeks after the incident was great, Bucky put more focus into our relationship. It felt like it did when we first started dating. Romantic gestures, spontaneous date nights it was all perfect. Then one day I noticed it, he was more focused on his phone than he was on me. I tried to convince myself I was just imagining things, he wouldn't try so hard to work things out just to do it all over again right?

I was getting ready for a date night, Bucky made reservations at a restaurant he knew I wanted to go to. While he was in the shower I was deciding between two dresses, a fitted dress that hugged every curve or a dress that showed just enough skin that was sure to drive him crazy. While I was debating on them I heard a ping from the nightstand and assumed it was Steve texting Bucky so I decided to ignore it and keep getting ready. After a few minutes, I heard two more notifications. "Bucky! Bucky your phones going off, I think it might be Steve!" Deciding to just save my voice I go grab the phone and take it to him. As I pick it up another notification appears and I feel the world stop and my heart shatter. No, no he promised. He promised it was nothing and he would stop.

"Sorry about that doll, were you calling me?" When I didn't answer him he walked up behind me. "Y/N, are you alright?" He was about to place his hand on my shoulder but my next question made him freeze in his spot.

"Who's Dot?" I turn around and look at him not knowing if I'm more angry or heartbroken. "James, who is Dot and why is she so excited to see you this weekend when you told me you were going to visit your parents?"

"Y/N, please. I can explain."

I threw his phone across the room hoping it broke when I heard it hit the wall. "Explain what? Explain why you lied to me! Explain why you're probably screwing the girl you told me you stopped talking to! Or explain how you could throw this entire relationship away! I was stupid enough to trust you and give you a second chance and this is what you do." I push past him and start packing whatever I can into a small suitcase.

He walks up behind me and tries to stop me. "Baby please, just stop and listen to me. I'm sorry"

"No. I'm sorry that I thought I could trust you but I'm done." I keep packing and turn towards him once I’m done. "If you're willing to ruin us, ruin the future we were planning for her. Then I'm done"

As I make my way towards the door he pulls me back. He wraps his arms around me and holds me close. "Baby please." There's a strain in his voice, I don't have to look to know he's crying. "Please don't leave me, I need you. I love you."

I force myself out of his hold and turn to him. "No, you don't, if you actually loved me none of this would have ever happened and you would have never put me through this much pain." I walk towards the door and put my hand on the handle. Before I open it I turn back. "Just remember that you caused this James, it was all you." Before I could hear his response I walked out and slammed the door. I willed myself not to cry, not yet. I get in my car and drive. I didn't know what to do or where to go but the next thing I know I'm standing in front of a house knocking on a door. It opens and they look shocked at my current state. "I know I may be asking a lot especially since you both knew Bucky long before I came along but I really need a place to stay right now." As soon as I was pulled into a tight hug the floodgates opened and all the emotions came pouring out.

Peggy walked me towards a spare room and Steve brought my bag. She sat me down in bed and held me as I cried. The exhaustion from all the crying must have put me to sleep. I slowly open my eyes and adjust to the light coming through the door and attempt to sit up, a few moments later Peggy walks through the door with a glass of water in her hand.

"Oh good, you're up, here drink this. After all that crying I'm sure you need it." She handed me the glass and took it back once it was empty.

"What time is it?" I try to clear my throat, all that crying made my voice incredibly hoarse.

A little past 11 pm, you slept for a few hours once you stopped crying. She sat down next to me and wrapped her arms around me. "You don't have to talk about what happened if you're not ready but you can stay here as long as you want. And you don't have to worry about James bothering you, Steve gave him quite an earful. I've never heard him yell at James that way as long as I've known them.

Hearing that almost made me want to smile. "I feel so stupid Peg." My voice cracked and I felt like crying again. "How could I trust him again only for him to cheat on me again?"

"You listen to me, the only stupid one in this situation is James. He knew exactly what he was doing and that's on him, not you. I promise you will get through this, Steve and I will be with you the entire time."

"Thank you, Peggy, I don't know what I'd do without you"

It didn't happen immediately but Peggy was right as always. With some time and help from my friends, I was able to put James and his betrayal behind me. Within a couple of days, I was able to laugh and smile again. Within a couple of weeks, I was able to stop crying over the pain he caused. Within a couple of months, I was able to go out with friends and have fun again even after hearing that James never stopped seeing that girl he was cheating with.

That's exactly what I was doing tonight. I was out with Peggy, having drinks and enjoying life. We had a discussion that even though things with James ended badly I didn't want to lose her and Steve as friends and that it didn't mean they couldn't be friends with him either. Steve especially, I didn't want my pain to be the reason he loses a lifelong friendship.

"Looks like we're out of drinks, I'll go get us some more." I weave through the crowded room and walk up to the bar and order a couple of drinks. While I wait I feel someone bump into me. I turn around and am about to tell them to watch where they're going. My eyes go wide when I see who's standing before me.

"Y/N, hi how are you?"

"James." You take pleasure when you see him cringe at the name. "I'm good, how are you and that girl you're seeing, what was her name again? Donna, Dora." I feign innocence as I incorrectly guess her name.

"Dot, and we're fine."

I follow his gaze towards a redhead who's getting a little too close to another man. "Looks like it." I turn and grab my drinks ready to leave this situation. " I should get going, Peggy's waiting."

"Wait. Before you go I wanted to apologize for everything I did. I didn't mean-"

I cut him off before he could finish his sentence. "I'm gonna stop you right there, if you were going to say you didn't mean to hurt me then I don't want to hear it. You knew exactly what you were doing and you knew exactly what it would do to me once I found out and honestly at this point I really don't care."

I take a step towards him and with a smile on my face tried to sound as sincere as possible. "I hope you both have a wonderful life together James. I hope you go on plenty of dates and I hope you know she's the one by the end of the night. I hope you never ever felt more free and tell all your friends that you're so happy.

I hope she comes along and wrecks every one of your plans, I hope you spend your last dime to put a rock on her perfectly manicured hand. I hope she's wilder than your wildest dreams and that she's everything you're ever gonna need." I lose your smile and continue in a serious tone. "And then I hope she cheats on you like you did on me." Before he could respond I excuse myself and walk back towards my table.

"Hey I was starting to get worried, is everything alright?"

"Actually Peggy everything is great." I smile as we toast and down our drinks. After tonight everything feels like it'll be ok.

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#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes

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love-is-a-dagger · 3 years

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It’s been a hard day

Lance tucker x reader

Requested by: @maximeevansblog

Masterlist

The words were staring to blur together now, rereading the word over, and over, and over again. And you had to do an extra shift for your coworker, Jenny, because her little boy was sick and couldn’t leave him home alone.

Your fingers are starting to strain, and sitting on that terrible chair all day had started to have an effect on your back. Everything just ached.

The day started off terrible, the alarm didn’t go off, making you have to rush in order not to be late and skipping breakfast. It was pouring down when you left the house, making your hair and clothes wet and having to drive half an hour in wet clothes is uncomfortable to say the least.

When it be clock finally reached 6:30 you wore you could have danced, you could leave and not come back until Monday.

On the drive home you nearly fell asleep, the day of work getting to you, being in that office for 11 hours , of course, having an effect.

You just couldn’t wait to get home, to get to Lance. You’ve been dating for the past year and a half, and it’s been the best time of your life. He’s so sweet, and caring, he had his moments, like everyone did. He had taken the rest of the month off to spend with you as he had been busy, and it’s been so great, never a dull moment.

When you finally reached home, it felt like a dream. The weathers cleared up now, so it was a calming walk to the house. Someone was cooking something nice, you could smell it as soon as you opened the car door, and it kept getting stronger, until you realised it was coming from your house.

Opening the door, you kicked off your shoes, slowing making your way to the kitchen after closing the door.

“Lance…?” You look wide eyed at him. Yeah, he’s cooked before, normally with you but never alone and never not boasting to you about how great it will be.

“Baby!” He greets, widening his arms, bring you to his chest.

“What is all this?” A smile is creeping into your face, this is the best thing that has happened all day.

“Well, I heard you making a shit ton of noise this morning, then I realised that it was later then normal. So I thought I’d treat ya, y’know, because your off most of the day working hard, and I though-“ the sentence finished with a kiss.

This is the nicest thing that anyone had done for you on a while.

“Thank you” you kiss his nose for good measure.

~~~

“Come on” Lance was leading all along the shopping centre, his hands had made home on your shoulders, leading you in every direction.

“Were are we going?” Your genuinely curious, he hasn’t told you a thing.

“You’ve had a tough week, so I decided to treat you to something nice” you turn your head to look at him, he just grins at you.

You only notice a moment later you had stopped moving, you stare at the shop in front of you.

You can’t stop the smile that appears on your face, you spin around and hug Lance as he chuckles.

“Thank you, thank you” you repeat.

“It’s alright. Now, let’s treat you to a nice hair cut, or what ever you do here” he grins, not having a clue why woman go in there.

Lance stays by your side for the whole experience, he helps you pick what to do with your hair, he holds your hand while the hairdresser washes you hair and he was just a sweetheart.

When it was finished he suggested you get your nails done as well, saying; “you might as well have both done, it goes together like stretching and a big match” you don’t question him, just thankful that he’s helped you take a break and treat yourself.

Just around three in the afternoon you get back to the house, after having Lance treating you to a full day of looking after you.

You bring Lance into a kiss, his hands explore your body, getting lower as the kiss gets deeper. Only for him to push you back gently.

“Y’know, as you look so goddamn sexy, why don’t we show you off? A dinner date?” He suggests, a cheeky grin on his face.

“I love you, god of gymnastics” he chuckles, bring you back into a kiss.

#lance tucker x you #lance tucker x y/n #lance tucker x reader #Sebastian Stan character #Lance tucker fluff

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goldentournesol · 3 years

Text

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Five)

Chapter Five: Royal Blue Napkins

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/N: i have totally reinvented the timeline of the show, just go with me. also...this chapter will take you on a RIDE.

Going home that night and getting into bed with her fiance was difficult for Y/N. Of course she knew it was technically wrong to have kissed Spencer back, but the problem is that she enjoyed it so much. Too much, probably. And that was alarming. Was it just because she was bored of kissing the same person for the past...what..11 years and just needed a (really) good kiss before she spent the rest of her life kissing the same man? Or was it because she knew that every neuron in her brain was usually firing at top speed at the near mention of Spencer Reid let alone finally know how her brain acted (nearly exploded) while kissing him?

The wedding was less than a month away now and Hotch was gracious enough to allow Y/N extra time out of the office, when things were calm, to meet with her wedding planner to finalize some decisions about the cake, venue, napkins, all that good stuff. In the middle of it, she caught herself wondering whether or not Spencer would like the color of napkin she chose, instead of her actual fiance. That was enough, the thought of Spencer now invaded officially every aspect of her life. She didn’t know what to do so she cornered JJ one day in her office and hurriedly shut the door behind her.

“JJ, I am freaking out about all this wedding stuff. I-I don’t know if I picked the right color for the napkins, oh God, I don’t even like royal blue! I just picked it because Grant likes it but what if it sucks because I don’t actually like it and it doesn’t match with the centerpieces and I-” she rambled but JJ promptly cut her off.

“Hey! Y/N, relax, take a seat. Take a deep breath.” Y/N followed her suggestions that felt more like orders and JJ watched her carefully, she wasn’t a profiler but she spent enough time around them to have picked up on subtle clues. She knew the woman sitting in front of her was an anxious mess and it was not about the napkins, “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t know if I like the napkins, JJ.” Y/N’s brows came together and she suddenly felt like crying, she couldn’t explain it, but she felt it.

“Y/N, you and I both know that napkins don’t make or break weddings.” JJ sent her a pointed look and Y/N began to feel small. She picked at her nails.

“Yeah? Well what does?” Y/N asked vaguely.

“What breaks weddings is an absence of love, Y/N.” She said simply and Y/N couldn’t help the frown that crept up on her face, but the blonde said nothing more.

The walk back to her desk was spent trying with extreme difficulty to not split her lip open from biting it too hard. The energy in the entire office was off, although Spencer has a new specific energy to him. He seems lighter somehow, he feels lighter too. Morgan doesn’t know exactly what happened between them but he could sense the shift in Reid’s behavior.

They’ve interacted, though briefly. Spencer pretended there was nothing wrong between them, while Y/N mulled over every interaction. Spencer literally had nothing left to lose, she’d made her choice and he’d accepted that, made peace with it even. He’d even gone as far as putting himself out there on the market. It was time to move on. There was just one aspect of the upcoming month that would make it extremely difficult to do so, so he made a decision.

“Hey, Y/N. Could I talk to you for a second?” Spencer said, leaning with his elbows over her desk as it neared their lunchtime.

“Yeah, of course, just one second... just saving this document. What’s up?” She smiled as she stared up at him, she was sure her heart was about to light on fire in her chest with the mere eye contact.

“Um, so you know how I’ve been meaning to visit my mom back in Vegas for a while now but I haven’t got the chance?” He began, idly playing with one of the candies in the candy bowl that was placed for guests.

“Yeah, of course! Are you planning on going?” She smiled wider, knowing just how much love this man had in his heart for his wonderful mother. Y/N had met Diana when she came into the office a few years back, actually she was the only one who Diana allowed to spend time with while the rest were in the field. Apparently, Spencer had told her more than enough information about Y/N before in his daily letters. Diana liked her years before she even met her.

“Yeah, I’m taking a week off, actually. I’m gonna spend it with her, I’ve missed her a lot.” The corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly as he thought of the week off.

“That’s so awesome Spencer! Will you tell her how much I’ve missed her, oh, I know! I’ll just write her a letter and you can take it with you. When are you going by the way? Do I have time to write it?” She worried slightly, grabbing a pen in preparation and making Spencer laugh lightly at her excitement.

“Yes, yes you’ll have time. I’m leaving on the 16th of August, already booked the ticket.” His voice faltered slightly as he said the date.

“Wait, the 16th? But that means…” He won’t attend the wedding.

“I know, I’m sorry I can’t make it.” He genuinely frowned, knowing just how upset this would make her. Despite their feelings for one another, they were the closest of friends.

“Th-that’s okay! Um, we’ll just send you all the, uh, pictures and stuff.” Her bright smile faltered and Spencer swore he heard a tremble in her voice, the one she made when she was trying to hide how upset she really was.

“Yeah, send me all the pictures, I’m really sorry again, Y/N.” He sent her a look of sympathy, but she understood, he didn’t want to be there.

“No, no it’s okay. I get it, there’s only so many other weeks in the year you could take off, I guess.” she laughed bitterly, very obviously hurt, “Um, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go now. I have something um, for Hotch--Hotch asked for something.” She picked up a random file from her desk and quickly made her way across the bullpen and Spencer’s eyes stopped following her when she entered Hotch’s office. He released a heavy sigh and turned on his heels to leave the building for a lunch that was anywhere but there.

“What can I do for you, Y/N?” Hotch asked, barely looking up from his file at first but then her silence intrigued him to look up, spotting her watching from the window as Spencer left, “Everything alright?” His voice startled her and he immediately took in her glassy eyes and the nervous trembling of her fingers.

“Huh? Oh, um, yes, everything’s fine. Did you...ask for these?” She took a look at what she’d actually picked up and realized they were a bunch of useless forms that the unit chief certainly did not need to waste his time on. It was hard to hide his smirk, having figured out what had happened.

“Do you need to take a seat, Y/N?” He saw right through her, of course he did. She drew in a deep, shaky breath and shook her head.

“Did you know?” She asked in a small voice.

“He ran it by me, yes. I have to approve his time off. If it’s any consolation, I tried to-” He begad, but she interrupted.

“No, please. I’ve heard enough. Thanks Hotch.” She frowned as she made her way out of his office, praying that her tears would--just for once--stay within her waterline.

After that, Y/N barely spoke with Spencer. She found it hard to find the line between being upset with him and understanding why he’s doing what he’s doing. On one hand, she selfishly wanted her best friend to be at her wedding, but on the other, she understood that that was a huge thing to ask from the other man who loved her. He loved her. He loves her. That’s mind boggling to Y/N. Spencer loves her? Even almost 3 weeks after his confession, it’s all she can think about. He’s in love with her.

It was almost time for him to leave for Vegas. Despite her anger with Spencer, she still wrote Diana a letter. Upon finishing and sealing it, she realized she hadn’t even mentioned the wedding once. The (supposedly) single most important event that she would ever attend in her lifetime hadn’t even crossed her mind. She didn’t even give him the letter, she just left it on his desk for him to take. Despite that, Spencer still smiled at the fact that she’d written his mother a letter. His curiosity was killing him, but he’d just ask his mom what she’d written. At the end of the day before he left, he paused at Y/N’s desk, but she refused to look up.

“Bye, Y/N. Um, congratulations in advance.” Spencer spoke, clutching his messenger bag tightly, hoping she’d just look at him once. Hoping he’d get to see her eyes one last time before her soul was tied to another man’s for the rest of eternity.

“Bye, Spencer...have a safe flight.” She replied quietly, busying herself with whatever she was working on on her computer. A beat passed between them as Spencer waited to meet her eyes, but the moment never came. Pre-love confession Spencer would have gone on and on about how he technically had no control over whether or not it would be a safe flight, but now...now he knew his voice was the last thing she’d want to hear. His shoulders involuntarily slumped as he began to walk away from the love of his life. He knew he couldn’t be at that wedding, he just knew it. Hasn’t he been through enough already? Was life that adamant about making him hurt so badly?

But alas, fate was never on their side. Moments before boarding the plane to Vegas and barely three days before her wedding, the team was called in for an emergency case. She had taken a few days off before the wedding to get everything sorted and thankfully, the case was local so she didn’t have to book any hotel rooms or coordinate with the pilots of the jet.

She had invited Garcia out with her to get a bridal manicure and pedicure on her lunch break, since she was the only one available.

“Pen, are you sure they don’t need you right now? I don’t want to interrupt the case.” Y/N signed into the phone.

“Trust me, Y/N/N, they don’t need me right now, besides this is the least I could do. All your plans for the week-of have been kinda ruined by this case. I wanna help you out the best I can! So I’m picking you up in 10 and we’re getting our nails done.” Y/N knew better than to argue with Garcia so she relented.

Near the end of their appointment, Garcia got a call from Hotch, “He’s what?! Oh no! Is he okay?! He’ll be okay, right?” Garcia half-panicked, sending Y/N right into a panic with her. Garcia paused and Hotch spoke over the phone, “Okay, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” She hung up and took a deep breath.

“Garcia, what happened! Is everyone okay?” Y/N asked hurriedly.

“Uh, no...actually Reid got shot in the field. The unsub shot him in the knee while trying to aim for the victim.” Garcia spoke slowly so as to not alarm her, but it was too late, Y/N was already pulling her hands away from the nail tech, who was almost done.

“WHAT?! Garcia! We have to go now! Is he okay?! Is he in the hospital? What hospital is he at? I’ll drive.” Y/N panicked, her breathing getting more and more shallow by the second.

“Y/N/N, calm down! Calm down! He’s fine, okay? He’s in surgery and you should absolutely not be driving right now. Take a few deep breaths please.” Her emotions were already all over the place because of the damn wedding, and now she had to worry about Spencer getting shot? Oh Lord, it was too much for her to handle.

“Garcia, I think I’m gonna pass out.” Y/N fanned her face and the waterworks began. Garcia quickly asked the nail tech if she could get Y/N some water.

“Oh! Oh, Y/N, baby don’t cry, please. He’ll be okay, he’ll probably be on crutches for a while but he’ll be fine.” Garcia tried to console her but the tears just kept coming. Y/N should have felt embarrassed whilst sobbing in the middle of the nail salon, but she was too overwhelmed to care at the moment.

“I’m so sorry Garcia, it’s just all too much. I don’t want royal blue napkins, Garcia! I don’t even think I want a damn wedding! And I-I can’t believe Spence just got shot! This all just feels so wrong! You know what, this is all just one big warning sign from the universe, isn’t it?! And--and I don’t even want to marry Grant!” She blurted randomly in her fit of tears and she stopped crying out of realization of what she’d just confessed. Garcia gasped and her friend met her eyes, they stared at each other for a moment before Y/N broke out into tears again at the confession.

It was true.

She didn’t want to marry him.

Garcia apologized profusely to the nail techs and paid quickly before leading an almost hysterical Y/N out of the salon.

Y/N clung to Penelope and sobbed into her shoulder on the sidewalk, “I don’t want to marry him, Garcia.”

“Y/N, the wedding is tomorrow.” Garcia’s eyes welled up with tears at the sight of her friend being so broken. Y/N shook her head and sniffled loudly, “Are you sure you’re not just super upset about Spencer getting shot?” Garcia continued, wanting Y/N to be absolutely sure of what she’s deciding.

Y/N pulled away from the embrace and stared at her friend, “M-maybe? I don’t know, I-I don’t know, Pen. Oh God, the wedding is tomorrow.” Y/N covered her face with her hands and tried to rub away all the stress and tears.

“Okay, okay, calm down. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll go see Spencer and make sure he’s alright, then you can take all the time you need to decide whether you want to call the wedding off or not, alright? How does that sound?” Garcia reasoned with her, slowly trying to remove her hands from her face.

Y/N nodded and took a few deep breaths, wiping away the last of her tears, “Let’s go see Spencer.”

When they’d arrived at the hospital, Spencer wasn’t out of surgery yet. The team was waiting around in the hospital chairs. The hospital felt cold, so unbelievably cold. Maybe it was Y/N literally getting cold feet. The team decided not to ask about the unmistakable redness around her eyes and nose. They just chalked it up to being scared for Spencer, but it was so much more than that.

She hadn’t even looked at him before he left. She hadn’t seen his eyes or his face so full of its color in so long. When the Dr. announced he was out of surgery and that he should be waking up any minute, the team had decided to let Y/N in first. The sight of him sleeping in the hospital bed made her stomach lurch. She found it hard to contain her tears. It was almost as if her hand had a mind of its own as it reached out to smooth down his wild hair and caress his cheek. She pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head and watched as his eyelids fluttered slightly, but stayed closed. She swallowed heavily and wiped her eyes before walking back out to the team.

“He’s not awake yet, but I, uh...have to go. There’s something I need to take care of. Pen, update me when he wakes, please.” Y/N tried as hard as she could to even out her voice, but it trembled with every other word. Garcia nodded and before anyone could even say a word, she was out of the building. She checked the time and saw that Grant’s shift wasn’t over yet, and she had the house to herself for a bit.

As soon as she made it in, she picked the two biggest suitcases she owned and began to fill them with her things. She’d spent over 7 years in this apartment with Anderson, so many memories and so many laughs were spent here.

But she couldn’t do it anymore.

She didn’t want to have to go through a divorce, she couldn’t go through that. She’d rather not marry him at all. Within two hours, she had packed 7 years worth of her life into two huge suitcases. It was sad and she shed more than a few tears mulling over memories. But she saw her future and it wasn’t with Anderson. She placed the suitcases near the doorway and sat at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. Surely enough, Grant came through the door at exactly 5:53 pm, just like he did every day.

“Babe? You home? Hey, whose bags are these?” He said, slipping off his shoes and walking into the kitchen, “Is everything okay, Y/N?” He asked, spotting her in the kitchen with a glass of red wine and tears gathering in her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Anderson frowned.

“Um, so...I’ve been thinking. A lot, actually. And I kept asking myself why we waited so long to finally get married. We got engaged in college, Grant. That was ages ago. Most people get married like, right after graduation, but we didn’t do that. We moved here together, I shifted my entire life to fit with yours and yeah I have a great job, but I’m not happy.” She paused to sniffle, “And I think I’m not happy because this isn’t the life I want for me. I think we waited so long because we secretly didn’t really want it to happen, if I’m being honest. But now that it’s happening, I don’t think I can do it. I’m sorry. I just don’t see my future with you.” She frowned as tears clouded her vision. She temporarily let go of her wine glass to slip off her engagement ring and place it in front of him.

“I’m calling off the wedding.” She stated with finality. He looked devastated.

“Y/N, is this a joke?” He frowned, anger settling in.

“No, it’s not a joke, Grant. I’m so sorry. I’ll try to get back whatever I can from all the money we’ve spent on everything, but I’m leaving. Thank you for giving me so many irreplaceable memories. They mean more than you know.” She wiped her tears and got up from her seat.

“Wait, so does this mean you’re quitting the job?” He asked, still in awe of the situation.

“No, I’m staying at the BAU, I love it there, Hotch is a great boss.”

“So that’s it? You’re leaving me?” For the first time that night, his eyes welled up with tears.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m staying with Penelope until I can find a place to rent.” They hugged one last time and she took her things and left.

Just like that.

And she’d never felt lighter. She’d never felt more free.

***

Anderson had requested a transfer to a different unit and so they barely saw each other at work. Everything was going really well actually. Over the past two weeks, she allowed herself only one day of wallowing but her priorities were finding a new apartment to live in. They’d already spent so much money on the wedding, so it was difficult to be spending at the moment, but thankfully Garcia’s freezer was full of individually packed meals from the catering company. She lived off those so far and it’d probably stay that way for the next few months or at least until she found her own freezer to fill with individually packed meals.

She hadn’t seen Spencer since that day in the hospital because apartment hunting in DC turned out to be a nightmare. But it’s fine, she’s been getting all her information from Garcia since she’d been performing daily checkups on him since he’d started his medical leave. Apparently, the ever-so-stubborn Spencer decided to continue giving his guest lectures even on his crutches. Ever since Rossi joined the team, he’d been taking Spencer to different universities and they’d often give lectures together. Y/N should’ve been glad that he’d been leaving the house, but it was so hard not to worry about him. He should be coming in today, his two weeks of medical leave are technically over, but he can’t go out into the field yet.

Also, the team was about to get a new member. Y/N was super excited, she was the one who got to show new members around the office and introduce them to everyone. She was also super excited to finally see Spencer. The ding of the elevator sounded and Y/N leapt from her seat upon seeing Spencer waddle in on his crutches through the glass doors, which were being opened for him by a young-looking blonde woman.

“Spencer!” Y/N exclaimed, bounding over to him and making sure to hug him gently as to not topple him over or hurt him.

“Hey!” He smiled, attempting to return the hug without his arms.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re finally back! The place was starting to get a little depressing!” She smiled, a new happiness filling her. She only noticed the woman standing so close to Spencer when she pulled away.

“Thanks, it’s great to be back.” He smiled at her fondly, resting on his crutches. “Oh, Y/N, this is Agent Ashley Seaver. She’s the newest member of the BAU and actually my girlfriend.”

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alice-dont-break · 3 years

Text

based on an anon request from the angst prompt list: “any other lies left to tell me?”

let me in | janthony one shot

cw: alcoholism

When Anthony was coming home later at night, Jasmine nearly always ignored his pleas to not wait up for him. He didn’t want her to lose sleep because of him, but she knew that her sleep would be more restful if she just waited. She’s gotten used to falling asleep in an empty bed because she’s been forced to, but nothing could compare to sleeping next to her love. The way he holds her tightly in his arms, enveloping her in his warmth and sweet but musky scent, lulls her into the most peaceful trance that allows her to drift so effortlessly into a deep sleep. It’s simply always worth waiting.

Anyway, by the time she’s finished putting their nine year old daughter to sleep and getting herself ready for bed, it’s usually almost 11 o’clock. Anthony rarely stays out much later than that, so it’s easy for Jasmine to relax in bed with her scented candles and a book until she hears him tiptoeing up the stairs.

His caution to avoid waking their sleeping daughter always made her smile, but even more so when she watched him slowly and carefully open their own bedroom door. It was endearing how after all these nights, he actually thought she might be asleep.

Tonight was one of those classic nights, until Jasmine realized that chapters and chapters had gone by without any sign of her husband. She reached to her bedside table for her phone, hoping to see a text, but was met with a blank lock screen.

She hated being that clingy, needy wife, but at this point she was nervous. It was nearly 1 o’clock in the morning and he was never out this late. She needed to text him, if only for her peace of mind.

Hey babe, you okay?

When minutes passed with no response, Jasmine felt her mild concern sink into complete nerves. This was about more than a late night. More than the loneliness of falling asleep next to an empty pillow. This was about a promise.

Years ago, Anthony made her a promise that held together the fraying seams of their relationship. After hours of spewing whiskey-scented lies, Anthony faced an ultimatum from his wife: vow to stay sober and call her when he needed help, or leave.

Since then, he’s been steady. He hasn’t faltered in his commitment, though he’s absolutely struggled. Jasmine felt no animosity when he called her at a late hour, having gone out with friends and found hard to fight against the pressures to drink. She’d simply roll out of bed, throw on some shoes, drive to him and bring him back home with his hand held tightly in her lap. When they would get inside, she’d look him in the eyes and ask the simple question. “Did you drink tonight?”

The answer was always no, and she would know if he’d been lying. Though truthfully, she wouldn’t have been terribly upset if he’d told her he’d messed up and had a drink. What mattered to her was the call; that indication that he was still in this fight to get better, and that their lines of communication were open.

Over the years, he’s built back up Jasmine’s trust. She was always willing to give him the benefit of the doubt now, knowing how hard he’s been fighting for so long. But tonight, she was rocked by the lack of communication. This was as unusual as a slip up would be.

She tried earnestly to hold it together, to keep her hope alive, but hot tears were burning in her eyes. She slunk down the stairs to wait on the couch. There was no way she’d sleep until he was home, and this way she could see his face sooner.

When she heard the click of the lock and creak of the front door swinging open, she was flooded with equal parts relief and fear. He was safe, but was he really?

“Baby, whatchu still doing up?” He said softly, kicking off his shoes and coming up behind the couch to kiss the top of her head.

She took a breath, reveling in the warmth of a simple but loving moment, before turning around to face her fear. “Where were you, babe?” Her voice wavered; she was afraid of her own words.

“Hey,” he cooed, noticing her bubbling over emotions and rushing over to sit beside her. “What’s going on, Jas? I was just out with the guys, I’m okay.”

“You said you’d be back... and you didn’t text...” she whimpered. “If you did something, just tell me... please.”

“Jasmine, you can trust me,” he breathed out in exasperation, “you know I don’t do that shit anymore.”

His breathy words and slight slur betrayed him, as the scent of that all-too-familiar dark liquor wafted over to Jasmine. His eyes were downcast, too captivated by the fidgeting of his fingers to be innocent. She scanned him up and down as fire burned through the last ounce of hope she’d carried with her.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t drink tonight,” she said, clawing for every bit of stability her lungs would allow.

“I.. I didn’t, Jas. Or I didn’t... I didn’t mean to,” he said softly, tears starting to well in his eyes. “I just ... I don’t know how -“

“Stop,” she said plainly, “any other lies left to tell me?”

Anthony sucked his lip between his teeth and looked up at his wife for the first time, revealing his heavy-lidded, bloodshot eyes. “Jasmine, please. I tried not to, but you know how anxious I’ve been lately - “

“You fucking promised me, Anthony,” she spat. “You promised to call if you needed help, you promised.”

“I know Jas, I know I fucked up, but I’m not wasted... I’m really not. I had two drinks, that’s it.”

“It’s not just two drinks when you’re stressed and so out of control that you lie to your wife!” She whispered harshly, jumping up to her feet. Anthony rose to meet her, standing just inches apart. He murmured ragged apologies trying to hold her by the waist, but she thrashed in his grip. She pounded her fists against his chest, hushedly crying out “why would you do this to us?”

He held her wrists, but didn’t really try to hold her back. Now that she stood before him openly bawling, he realized he deserved it. After just a few seconds, she was worn out and let her head fall forward so her forehead rested his chest. He nodded down too, to hold his lips against her curls. Anthony knew now that apologies were just words, so he focused on feeling her breath.

Finally, Jasmine looked up at him with lifeless eyes staring right through him. “Leave,” she whispered.

Anthony felt his ribcage contracting and squeezing his heart. His lungs were empty and a weight sunk down his entire body. “Jasmine, please, I’ll do anything-“

“Shut up,” she rasped, “I’m telling you to leave because we have a beautiful, beautiful little girl upstairs and I will not let her hear her parents fighting like this.” Jasmine clumsily rubbed away her tears and bit down hard on her lip. She felt his eyes searching her for answers, but she didn’t have them. “I’ll tell her you got home late and had to leave early. Just get a cab to your brother’s, or your mom’s, and when you come back, be sober and ready to talk.”

Anthony squeezed his eyes shut and nodded slowly. When he opened them, all he could do was whisper “I love you.” In those three words, he was begging her to let him stay.

“Dont you see that I’m doing this because I love you? Because I don’t want your daughter to lose the perfect relationship she has with her father? If we go upstairs now, I don’t trust myself or you. I don’t want her to hear us fighting, or smell it on you, or sense anything is off so I want you to get out and understand that you cannot be drunk in this house with our daughter. You cannot lie to me in this house with our daughter. Do you understand that Anthony? Do you understand that I’m doing this for you and for us, because I love you?”

Anthony clenched and unclenched his fists, shaking his head and pulling himself back into the moment. “Yes, Jas. Thank you. I know I fucked up, but you two are everything to me. You’re just my whole world, and I won’t... I won’t risk losing it... I’m gonna figure this out somehow and I won’t come back until I do,” he gulped.

“No, don’t be ridiculous,” she mumbled, stepping forward to cup his cheeks. “You’ll come back tomorrow after I’ve taken her to school and we’ll figure this out together. Just because you fucked up on your own, doesn’t mean you have to fix it on your own. That’s what this means.” She pulled back her hand and pointed at the wedding ring.

“So you’re not... we’re not...” he whimpered, voice cracking with every word.

“Of course not, Ant,” she whispered, leaning in to press their foreheads together. Her hands roamed up his back, kneading his shoulders before letting them twist through his curls. “I know you’re hurting,” she said even quieter, right against his lips, “and I’m still here for you. I’m just telling you to leave because I know you and I know how much worse you’ll feel if you hurt me more tonight or god forbid hurt our baby. So please go now, okay?”

He nodded, keeping their foreheads together until her lips met his own. He felt a surge of life at her tenderness. The salty melange of their tears could have broken him if he weren’t so focused on her soft caresses. Once they parted, he gazed deep into her eyes for just one fleeting breath, before turning to put on his shoes. He left wordlessly, opting to call the cab from the front steps. He couldn’t handle the shame for one more second.

When Jasmine had nightmares about Anthony drinking again, they always ended with her crying inconsolably. But now that she was left alone, hunched over with her hands bracing her weak body on the back of the couch, she simply didn’t have the energy. She felt so drained that all she could do was guzzle some water, pop a tylenol for her impending headache, and traipse up the stairs. She opened her bedroom door, but before she could even cross the threshold she was overwhelmed. He was embedded in every inch of space, in every breath of air, and it simply hurt too much; not because he hurt her, but because he was hurting and she couldn’t be there.

Jasmine knew there was only one place right now she could approach any semblance of the love and comfort she was craving. Silently, she crept down the hallway and into her daughter’s room. Their little girl slept like a rock, so she knew she could slip under the covers and Cassidy would be none the wiser. Jasmine snuggled up tightly to her daughter’s back, securing her close with an arm around her waist. She buried her face in the younger girl’s curls, inhaling the familiar scent that opened her chest for the first time all night. As soon as she felt Cassidy sink deeper into her arms, darkness danced at the corners of her eyes and she let go.

When she woke up to the sound of her daughter’s alarm clock, she felt a pit quickly sinking back into her stomach. That was overshadowed quickly though, as Cassidy groaned and rolled over into her mother’s warmth.

“Hi baby,” she cooed, wrapping her arms tighter and letting her nails scratch at the head resting on her chest.

“G’morning,” Cassidy grumbled, “what are you doing here?”

“Dad came home late and had to leave early for work and I didn’t want him to wake me up. Plus I just wanted some cuddles,” she smiled softly.

“S’nice, you’re warm and cozy,” she replied. Jasmine had to hide her little sigh of relief when Cassidy had easily believed the lie.

After a few more minutes of head scratches and temple kisses, both girls went about their normal mornings. Cassidy was chatty as usual in the car, and though Jasmine had perhaps held on for a second too long in their goodbye hug, she was confident that Cassidy couldn’t sense anything was off.

However, once she got home, she was back in the panicked mindset of the night before. For the past few years, she’d meticulously planned these speeches in case she would ever need them, but now that she was here, waiting for Anthony to come back, nothing felt right. All she could do was curl up on the couch, stare at the door, and hope the right words appeared when she opened her mouth.

When Anthony finally trudged through the front door an hour later, he looked dreadful. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks blotchy, and his shoulders hunched forward. His hands were fidgeting in his pockets and his eyes were downcast. He could hardly bare to look at her with his tail between his legs.

“You need coffee,” Jasmine said with the faintest little smile. Anthony just nodded as she walked off, before taking a seat on the couch. When Jasmine reemerged a few moments later, she passed him a piping hot mug and sat down next to him. She let out a small sigh, as she was all too familiar with the signs that he hadn’t slept even a wink.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, nodding at the cup of coffee before letting the scalding liquid sear his lips.

“Of course. Cassidy doesn’t know a thing, by the way. Didn’t ask any questions or anything,” she replied, still avoiding his eyes.

“That’s good, thank you Jas.”

She tried to give him another tiny smile, but he couldn’t even react. He was drowning in something awful, and she just wanted to be let in. They sat together in the discomfort for a moment, before Anthony piped up.

“Can I go first?”

“Y-yeah, okay,” Jasmine nodded.

“Jasmine, I am so so sorry,” he said as firmly as his weakened heart would allow. “I’m obviously sorry for drinking, but I’m sorry for lying to you, and for not calling you most of all. I know how hard it’s been for you to trust me again, and I just betrayed all of that. Thinking about how I hurt you, and risked hurting Cass makes me sick and now all I want to do is find a way to make this better. I know the drinking causes this, and I know I need to stop, and I wish I could promise you right here, right now that I’ll never have another drink, but I’m just not that strong, Jas.”

His voice started to waver, and Jasmine tentatively reached forward for his hand. “I’m weak, and because of that the only promise I can make to you is to be honest. And right now I’m being honest and telling you that the anxiety I’ve felt and the craving I’ve felt over the past couple weeks isn’t something I can deal with alone. So there’s an AA meeting in a couple hours... at 1 o’clock. Ten minute drive from here. I’m gonna go, and I’m gonna go to a lot of these. And I have an intake meeting with a therapist on Friday at 8 o’clock. I tried to get it sooner, but that was the earliest appointment. Jasmine, I feel like such an asshole for asking you for anything more, because you’ve done so much, but if I could ask you for one more thing. C-could you come with me to the meeting today?”

When Anthony took a breath after his speech, he looked up through damp eyelashes and found Jasmine with tear tracks all the way down her cheeks. She was holding his hand with both of hers, drawing little circles on the back of his hand despite the trembling of the rest of her body. He opened his mouth to apologize for making her upset yet again, wishing he could punch himself in the throat for causing even more pain, but all that came out was a strangled sob.

“Stop,” she interrupted, “my turn. C’mere.”

Anthony looked her up and down before feeling weakness seep through his every fiber. He collapsed forward with his head in her chest as loud cries shook his frame. She wrapped both arms around him awkwardly, gently petting his hair while trying to soothe him with hushed coos. She pressed kiss after kiss to his forehead, letting him expel all the guilt she knew was eating him alive from the inside.

When his shoulders relaxed and he started to sniffle, she pulled him upright, and pressed her fingers under his chin so she could connect with his tired eyes. She carefully thumbed away his tears before pressing her lips to soothe the red blotches left in their wake.

“Baby, I’m so proud of you,” she murmured. His brow furrowed and his lips prepared to protest, but she pressed a finger against his chin to stop him. “What hurts me is the fear. It’s knowing that you could be out somewhere in so much pain, drinking yourself to death, and I’d be left in the dark, unable to help you,” she said, tears starting to spill down her cheeks even faster. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be let in and to know that if you need me, you’ll let me help you. I want to help you, baby.”

“You deserve someone easier, someone stronger,” he whispered.

“I never want to hear you say you’re weak again,” she insisted. “Baby, at your lowest, you just found a meeting, found a therapist, and asked me for help, all in one morning. Yes, you slipped up last night, but what you’ve just done matters so much more. You’ve been so, fucking, strong and I could not be more proud of you. And yes, I will go to a meeting with you today. I’ll go to meetings with you every day, if thats what it takes.”

“What if I fuck up again, Jas? I can’t risk hurting you like that...”

“Ant, the last time you were in this place you clawed yourself out with some crazy mix of adrenaline and force. Of course that wasn’t sustainable, and honestly I blame myself for not realizing that it was finally catching up with you. Now you’re getting real, professional help, and that’s going to be different.”

“Jasmine, I can’t promise you that I’ll never slip up and drink again,” he said softly, cheeks flushing red and words dripping with shame.

“I know,” she said even softer. “I know this is an illness babe, and I can’t pretend that I know how your mind is fighting against your better judgment when you’re craving it. I’m not asking you to promise me you’ll be perfect because I know how hard this is going to be. I’m asking you to promise me that you’ll be honest with me, failures and successes. That you’ll call me when you feel yourself slipping. Whether you hold out or fall before I get there, I’m going to pick you up and put the pieces back together. Okay? That’s my promise to you. No judgment, just unconditional love.”

Anthony gulped back the last of his tears, and took both of Jasmine’s hands. He looked her in the eyes and nodded firmly. “I promise, Jasmine. I love you and our girl more than anything, and I promise you honesty and communication.”

Jasmine let her lips curl up into an easy smile, and squeezed his hands tight. She leaned forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, before resting her forehead on his temple.

“I love you so much, Anthony. Always. And right now I love you enough to tell you that you look horrible.”

He looked at her dumbfounded for a moment, before somehow finding it in him to laugh. “Seriously Jas? Gonna tell me I look horrible when I’m already a mess?”

“Mhmm,” she sneered, “otherwise you won’t listen when I tell you to get some rest.” Jasmine stretched out her legs to rest her feet on the ottoman in front of the couch, and patted her lap. Anthony laid back with his head on her thighs and looked up at her with a wistful smile.

“I love you,” he whispered again.

“I know. And I love you too. Now close your eyes,” she quipped back. Her smile softened as she brushed his curls off his forehead, and let her fingers rest against his scalp. She scratched just softly, while setting her other hand under his jaw so she could brush her thumb over his cheek. She could tell he was fighting his exhaustion, so she started to hum sweet, soft, lullaby tones until his eyes fluttered shut. For now, she was content to lay back and let her mind be filled with hope.

#angst #janthony #janthony fics #my fics

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follow-your-fire · 3 years

Text

In your tender hands

Rating: Explicit/NC-17

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur (Merlin)

Written for bottom Arthur fest 2020

@bottom-arthur

“You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

Freya gives him an incredulous look. “You’re an idiot. Have you never had a massage before?” she asks, and it’s obvious that the question is mostly rhetorical. Which is probably the main reason why her eyes grow twice their size at the lack of response. “Oh my God, Arthur! Seriously?!”

“You did what?” Arthur nearly spits out his coffee, glaring daggers at his assistant.

Freya only rolls her eyes at the dramatic response. “You heard me. I booked you in for one hour when you take your break.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” He rubs at his eyes in frustration. “How the hell am I supposed to squeeze a massage in? My break is one hour too, plus the commute, plus I want to have lunch.”

“You’re acting like I don’t know your schedule off the top of my head. How long have I been working for you?”

“Two years,” he replies automatically, taking a moment to appreciate the fact.

All in all, Freya is a wonderful assistant. Arthur knows she’s the only reason why he hasn’t had a mental breakdown yet. She’s punctual and diligent. Stubborn as hell and as ruthless as they come. It’s kind of a double-edged sword though. While she gets the job done - actually goes beyond her line of duty - she also takes great pleasure in bossing Arthur around. And of course, Arthur being the push-over he is, lets her get away with it.

So yeah, Freya is a godsent who saves Arthur from losing it on a daily basis. But she’s also the spawn of the Devil who loves to discover all the ways to drive him nuts.

“And four months,” she corrects. “So cut me some slack, Princess.”

Ignoring the jab - because really, Freya, it’s getting old - he comes back to his previous point of concern. “Then you should know that my schedule is fully packed today.”

“Not anymore,” she announces smugly, walking over to her desk to pick up the iPad before she returns to Arthur’s office. “I moved Masa to tomorrow at 11:15 and Cutforth to Friday at 2 pm, which gives you,” she does a quick count, “two hours and fifteen minutes for your break.” She closes the iPad, smiling victoriously. “Now, stop fretting and make sure you leave on time. I booked you for 12.:15. The commute is about fifteen minutes and you should be there at least five minutes in advance.” She grabs a pen and a post-it-note from his desk, scribbling quickly. “There,” she says, tearing the note off. “This is the address.”

“The enchanted cave,” he reads in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Shut up, Arthur. Merlin is the best there is. He put me back together after I lost my parents. He’s usually fully booked weeks in advance. You’re lucky that he has a soft spot for me and let me squeeze you in.”

Arthur turns more solemn at the mention of Freya’s parent’s untimely passing. It doesn’t make him any less confused, though.

“Sounds more like a shrink to me than a masseur,” he thinks out loud.

“He might as well be,” she laughs, affection evident in her voice, which softens Arthur’s irritation somewhat. “You need to get that stick out of your ass. And you need to relax.”

Arthur bristles a little at the choice of words but holds himself back. “It’s a massage, not a holiday. How is that gonna relieve my stress?”

“I don’t have time for self-pampering,” he grumbles defensively.

“That’s exactly why you have to make the time!”

“That’s quite an oxymoron.”

“Shush.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Really, Arthur. You need to unwind.”

“I don’t-”

“Arthur,” she groans impatiently. “Go. Get. The. Massage. I’m gonna make sure you leave on time and I will check with Merlin that you actually turned up.”

“I think you’re confusing who’s the boss and who’s the subordinate here.”

“I think you’re full of shit and need to shut up and listen to someone smarter than you.” She turns on her heel and walks out of the office before Arthur has a chance to retort anything back. “Don’t be a prat, Arthur. For once in your life, do something nice for yourself.” And with that, she shuts the door behind her.

Arthur arrives at the place at 12:07, just in time to walk to the door as a woman walks out. He steps to the side, waiting for her to pass.

“Arthur?”

He snaps his head up from where he was blankly staring at the side-walk. “Oh. Hey, Mithian,” he greets when he recognizes one of his long-time friends.

“Don’t hey me and give me a proper hug hello,” she complains and doesn’t waste any time to rise on her tiptoes and wrap him in her arms. Arthur returns the hug with a smile on his face.

“How have you been?”

“I’ve been great but how have you been? I haven’t heard from you in ages,” she scolds him gently.

“Been busy.”

“Aren’t you always,” she scoffs, sympathetic. “Nice to see you’re finally doing something for yourself,” she says, getting a confused look. “You’re coming for a massage, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I am. My assistant made me.” Oh, shit. That shouldn’t have come out.

Predictably, Mithian bursts into giggles. “Figures.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, Arthur. Someone needs to look out for you if you don’t,” she explains, her eyes soft and a wave of affection washes over Arthur as he remembers his uni years and their brief but lovely time together as a couple.

Now that he thinks of it, Freya reminds him of Mithian a lot. It occurs to him he’s attracted to a certain type of person. Not necessarily in a romantic sense but more in general.

His sister is like that too. All fiery and strong-willed, calling Arthur names on a good day, but when it comes to it, she’s a protective mother-hen.

So is his best friend. Lance is usually calm and collected but doesn’t hesitate to call Arthur on his bullshit, in the most loving way, though. So does Gwen. Those two really rub off on each other.

What is it with him attracting people into his life who spend most of their time scolding or mothering him? He needs to look into it later.

“I still don’t see how this is supposed to help.” He shrugs indifferently.

“Oh, you’ll see. Just wait for it.” And good grief, she winks at him. “I need to get going. Let me know how it went. You have my number, right?” Arthur nods. “Great. Also, it wouldn’t kill you to get in touch here and there, you know?”

Sighing guiltily, he humors her. “I will.”

“You’d better. Okay, gotta go. Enjoy yourself!” She blows him a kiss and takes off.

He very much doubts he’s gonna enjoy himself but if he’s lucky, maybe he’ll get to nap while the guy gets handsy with him. He could use an extra hour of sleep. God knows the five hours he’s come to consider his routine are not cutting it anymore.

He sighs in relief as he walks through the door to find a rather unassuming lobby. Given the name of the business, he expected the place to live up to its cringeiness but thankfully there are no tacky lights, no magical crystals scattered around, no candles in every corner, nor every surface. The only thing that can be considered a bit spiritual or whatever is the incense perched on the counter, right next to the business cards and leaflets. Thankfully, the scent is very subtle and doesn’t trigger a headache.

“Good afternoon! You must be Arthur,” says a voice to his left and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin. He didn’t even notice anyone in the room with him.

As he looks over in the direction the voice came from, he finds a man, presumably his masseur - Mark, Matt? - standing in the door leading to what Arthur guesses is the massage room.

“Oh. Hey. Yeah, that would be me.” He turns to face the man, straightening his back. He must look out of place, clad in his suit, still wearing his tie.

The man approaches him with a smile. “I’m Merlin. It’s nice to meet you, finally. Freya talks about you quite a bit.”

Arthur reaches to grasp his hand when Merlin offers it, giving it a firm shake. “Don’t believe anything the little minx lets out of her mouth.” He attempts a joke, hoping his discomfort at being told his assistant talks about him is not too obvious.

He must succeed because Merlin is throwing his head back with a laugh. “She said you would say that,” he teases. “That’s alright. I like to make up my own mind.”

Arthur withdraws his hand and gives him a stiff smile. Outside of work, he has no idea how to make a decent conversation. Not upon the first meeting anyway.

Tilting his head inquiringly, Merlin asks, “You seem quite tense. Is everything alright?”

“It’s just... Look. I know you’re busy, Freya said so. And I appreciate you making time for me. But,” he huffs, knowing he’s gonna sound like a jerk no matter how he phrases it, “I don’t really care for massage much but Freya insisted. She can be fucking scary sometimes. Don’t tell her that though! And I just... I feel really out of place, okay?”

He expects to see Merlin’s expression sour, thinking Arthur is just a pompous douche. He wouldn’t even blame him. But, to his bewilderment, the man’s face is nothing but open, not a single trace of judgement.

“I won’t, I promise,” he says with humor. “If you don’t mind me asking - have you had a bad experience in the past?”

“More like no experience at all.”

For the first time, Merlin looks caught off guard. “You never had a massage?”

“No. I just never saw the point. And anyway, I don’t really have time to spare. The only reason I’m here is that Freya did some magic with my schedule and cleared it up enough to give me two hours off today.”

“Oh.” Merlin suddenly perks up. “In that case, I’d like to show you some of my magic, if you let me.”

Arthur’s brain short-circuits for a moment. Did he just hear what he thinks he did? Or is he so tired he started hallucinating? Plus, his dry spell of six months is probably not helping either.

“Um... I... magic?”

“Yeah, you know...” Merlin sweeps his hand over the lobby. “The enchanted cave? Seems fitting?”

“Oh.” Arthur chokes out. “Right. Right...”

“Oh God, I just realized how cheesy that sounds,” Merlin reflects with a hint of embarrassment. “Anyway, I should stop talking. You didn’t come here for a chat, after all.” He steps to the side, gesturing towards the massage room. “I’d just finished setting it up before you came in, so it’s all ready for you.”

Arthur gets the hint and with a deep breath, he makes his way to the room. Unlike the lobby, it’s bathed in a soft yellow light and.... yup, those are candles alright. No crystals, though.

Merlin is right on his heels. “I’ll let you undress in private, to your level of comfort.You can hang your clothes here, or you can just fold them and put them on this chair.” He gestures to the chair in the corner. “After that, lie down on the massage table, on your stomach, this way around. You see the sheet over there? That’s for you to cover yourself with. I’ll be back in a few minutes when you’re ready. Do you have any questions? Requests?”

So many questions. He goes with the most concerning one. “Yeah, um, when you say my level of comfort...” He cuts himself off. Thankfully, Merlin picks up on it.

“Whatever works for you, really. I can even massage you with your clothes on, although...” He gives Arthur a quick once-over, “I can’t imagine it would be comfortable for you.”

Yeah, no. Definitely not. And he has to go back to work after and he’s sure that showing up in a wrinkled suit would earn him a few judgmental looks.

“But really, it’s up to you. You can keep your clothes on, or just your underwear. If you’d prefer to be completely naked, that works too.”

Arthur hopes the dim lighting of the room conceals his blush. There’s no reason why a man of 32 years should blush at the thought of being naked.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Merlin echoes with an encouraging smile. “Be back soon.”

Arthur releases a relieved breath when Merlin closes the door behind him. This whole thing is even more awkward than he expected. Merlin seems like an alright bloke, if a bit odd but Arthur supposes that comes with the job. He seems nice though, with all the reassurances and effort he put into making sure Arthur is comfortable.

He wonders how many male clients Merlin gets. So far, he knows that Freya and Mithian are swept away by him. Although it’s hard to tell if it’s because of his supposedly outstanding massage skills or his looks.

He groans internally and maybe even a bit out loud. Nope, don’t even go there. No hitting on your masseur. Yeah, that wouldn’t end well. Not with Merlin about to spend the next hour gliding his large hands over Arthur’s whole body.

A shiver runs down his spine and in an attempt to push his thoughts away, he begins undressing, starting with his tie. He hangs his jacket and shirt on the hanger by the door and the rest he puts on the chair, just as Merlin instructed. In no time, he’s standing there clad only in his underwear, debating whether to leave that on or not.

To hell with it. Merlin must have seen it all already.

He ends up ridding himself of his briefs too, face going aflame as he adds them to the pile on the chair and rushes to climb onto the table, settling on his stomach and doing his best to arrange the sheet Merlin provided for him so it covers him as much as possible.

A minute or two pass with him fidgeting in his position. Whether it’s from discomfort or nerves, he doesn’t know, but then Merlin is knocking gently on the door.

“Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah,” he calls hoarsely, grateful Merlin can’t see his face.

The door clicks open and Merlin walks into the room, speaking from somewhere to Arthur’s left. “You probably already figured but one hour allows for a full body massage. Is that alright with you? Or do you want me to forgo any areas? Or spend some more time on a specific one?”

Logically, Arthur knows these are all valid questions but they do nothing to help him relax. More like the opposite.

“Um, no, that’s... you can do whatever you want.”

“Alright. Any contraindications I should know about?”

“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking.” Oh God, what did I just say? Stop trying to be funny, Arthur!

It draws a boisterous laugh from Merlin, easing some of Arthur’s tension. “Thanks for clarifying,” he says, catching his breath. “Any injuries?”

“No. I twisted my ankle playing football, but that was years ago.”

“Okay, good.” There is some rustling and thumping, then Merlin speaks again. “Do you care for any specific scent? I’ve got a variety of essential oils, energizing or calming. I have a special blend for stress relief if you’d be interested.”

Arthur winces a little at the fact he’s so easy to read. “Um... sure. But maybe not too much? I still need to go back to work after this.”

“Duly noted,” Merlin promises and busies himself with what Arthur assumes is mixing the oils or something.

Thankfully, he doesn’t take long, preventing Arthur from driving himself into a frenzy. He doesn’t know why he’s so flustered about all of this. So he never had a massage, so what? People do it all the time.

It’s just then that he notices that music is playing but it’s so soft it could almost escape his hearing. He focuses on listening in hopes of distracting himself.

“Okay, I’m all set. I’ll start with dry massage, working my way down from your shoulders. That alright with you?”

Yeah, he never had a massage but he’s pretty sure that asking for affirmation every two minutes isn’t how this usually works. It occurs to him that Merlin is doing this only for him.

He’s equal parts irritated and touched by it.

“Yeah.”

Gently, Merlin places his hands on his shoulders over the sheet. It’s just a simple touch, not even on his bare skin, but Arthur swears he can feel the heat of Merlin’s hands seeping into his own body and spreading throughout. He suppresses a sigh.

“I’ll start with medium pressure. Let me know if it’s too much or if you’d like me to go harder.”

Arthur hopes the whimper that makes it past his lips is not very audible. He clears his throat to cover it up.

Merlin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he presses his hands into the tense muscles of Arthur’s upper back, finding all the right spots from the get go.

A guttural groan escapes Arthur before he knows it.

“Too much?” Merlin asks, stilling his movement.

“N-no. No, it’s... it’s good. Just didn’t... expect it.”

“Good. Let me know if it changes.”

He stays on that area for a few minutes, lingering when he finds a sensitive spot, working out the kink. It’s a curious combination of pain-pleasure and Arthur is not sure if that’s what it’s supposed to feel like, but he knows it leaves him all pliant and floaty, so it’s probably alright.

Merlin makes his way down the spine, to his lower back, then goes back up and pays the same attention to his arms and hands.

He walks around the table and starts working on the legs.

Arthur releases a shuddering breath. He just had a leg-day in the gym yesterday and damn, can he feel it. Merlin’s touch is like a balm on his sore muscles and he exhales as pain gives way to relief.

It’s not long before Merlin comes back to the head of the table, hands grasping at the sheet.

“I’ll move onto the oil part now, yeah?”

“Okay.” At this point, Arthur will take anything. Why has he never done this before?

Merlin pulls the sheet down to his lower back, folding it over and leaving his back and arms exposed. The air of the room is not chilly by any means but Arthur shudders all the same.

There is a slick sound as Merlin covers his hands with oil before bringing them to Arthur’s shoulders again, spreading the oil over the whole expanse of his back and arms. Although the pressure is not as hard now, with the oil easing the way, Arthur finds this part even more intense, Merlin’s touch nearly searing without any barrier between them.

He glides his palms, fingers and forearms over Arthur’s back with long, confident strokes, then switches to short, firmer ones, alternating between the two.

Arthur’s vaguely aware he’s all but melting on the spot, feeling almost detached from his body despite every nerve ending being on fire.

At some point as Merlin rubs at the tense muscles of his neck, he slides his hands into Arthur’s hair, at the base of his skull, rubbing in circular motions.

This time, it’s definitely a whimper that Arthur lets out, blushing furiously.

“S-sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Arthur,” Merlin instructs in a gentle voice. “You carry a lot of tension here. Plenty of people do but you even more so. Just let go.”

Against his better judgment, he does just that. As Merlin’s hands continue their ministrations, he lets out a series of little huffs and whimpers, unable to stop himself when he starts.

“That’s it. Just let go,” Merlin repeats and puts more force behind his touch, making Arthur’s noises grow in volume.

He both welcomes and mourns the loss when Merlin’s hands leave him in order to grab a hot towel and wipe the remaining layer of oil from his back before covering him with the sheet again.

“I’ll move to your legs now, okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

He’s surprised when Merlin touches his shoulder, prompting him to lift his head. “Since I’m finished with your back, you can have a pillow if you want. It might be more comfortable for you.”

Arthur doesn’t object in the slightest, taking the pillow Merlin’s holding and resting his right cheek on it, sliding his hands underneath. Yeah, much more comfortable.

“Thanks,” he mumbles almost sleepily and hears Merlin chuckle.

“You’re very welcome.”

Then, Merlin is exposing his left leg, tucking the sheet in the space between his legs and over his hip, revealing his left butt-cheek in the process. He doesn’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed.

Merlin doesn’t waste time before coating his hands with oil again and bringing them to Arthur’s leg. He starts with his feet, then moves to his calf, then thigh until he’s worked all the way to his bum.

Arthur nearly jack-knives from the table as Merlin’s thumb presses into the middle of his cheek.

“Sorry! Was it too much?”

Arthur presses his face into the pillow to hide his flush. “I... ugh... I just... didn’t expect... that.”

“Oh,” Merlin quips. “I can skip that part.”

Jesus, Arthur, stop being such a sissy. It’s just a massage. A professional massage.

“It’s fine. You just... surprised me.”

“Sorry about that,” he says genuinely and resumes the massage, albeit more tentative than before.

Now that the initial shock is over, Arthur begins to appreciate the attention Merlin’s paying to that particular part of his body. He never knew how tense he was in... well.... there.

He whines a little when Merlin presses his thumb into a tender spot.

“Shit. I would’ve thought that going to the gym four times a week would make up for sitting on my ass several hours every day,” he grumbles more to himself.

“I think you’re doing an excellent job at the gym,” Merlin replies with humor, then promptly freezes, Arthur following suit. “Oh God, I’m so sorry. That was... very inappropriate. I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. Not that you don’t have a nice ass. I mean... oh shit,” he starts panicking, removing his hands from Arthur’s body. Funny enough, witnessing Merlin freak out makes Arthur strangely relaxed.

He responds with a huff. “Take it easy, Merlin. I appreciate the compliment. You can continue.”

“Are you... are you sure?” Merlin asks tentatively.

“I’m sure. You like my ass, so what? I’ve been working hard on it.”

Merlin laughs, a bit nervous, a bit relieved, and eventually listens, resuming the massage on the other leg, starting from his foot again.

Maybe the whole exchange should make everything weird but strangely enough, Arthur is even more relaxed than he was before. The realization that Merlin is only human, with no filter it seems, making it easier.

Merlin hesitates when he works his way up to Arthur’s bum again, but with no complaint in sight, he repeats what he did on the other leg.

When he’s done, he steps to the side of the table and lifts the sheet off of Arthur, holding it in front of himself like a screen. “Can you turn over, Arthur?”

Arthur gathers all his strength to prop on his forearms with the intention to do just that, but stills momentarily.

“Arthur?” Merlin questions when nothing happens.

“I... um....” Well, shit. How did I not notice I was sporting a semi?!

“What’s wrong?”

“I... might have a... situation,” he admits, face burning.

At first, Merlin is silent, then the realization dawns on him. “Oh. I see. That’s fine, Arthur. It happens more often than not,” he reassures but it doesn’t help much.

“But I... God, this is embarrassing,” he hides his face in his hands.

“I understand why you would think that, but I promise it’s alright. It doesn’t mean anything; it’s just a natural reaction.”

It takes some more prompting but eventually, Arthur flips onto his back and closes his eyes as Merlin drapes the sheet over him again, the outline of his half-hard dick painfully visible.

“I can fetch you a blanket if it makes you feel better?”

“If you don’t mind,” he squeezes out without opening his eyes, only doing so when Merlin hands him the blanket and he rushes to throw it over his lower half. “Thanks. Sorry about that.”

He dares a look at Merlin and finds him smiling in empathy. “Not at all. It’s no big deal, Arthur.” He reaches for a bottle of oil and puts his hands on Arthur’s arm. “Just lie back and relax.”

Arthur does his best to do just that while Merlin massages his arm and hand before switching to the other one.

By the time he’s finished with them, Arthur’s calmed down considerably and, thank fuck for that, the embarrassment was enough to have killed any interest his dick might have taken in the situation.

He expects Merlin to announce the massage has come to an end when he finishes wiping his arms with a hot towel, but to his surprise, Merlin slides a chair behind him, sitting himself down, hands coming to cradle Arthur’s head. Arthur lifts it automatically, assuming that’s what Merlin wants him to do.

“You just relax, Arthur. Don’t help me by holding your head up. I’ll manage.”

It’s not an easy thing to trust someone not to drop your head but Merlin is nothing but cautious as he maneuvers it around to get to the spot he’s aiming for and Arthur finds himself giving up control completely. Head massage doesn’t sound like anything special but to his bewilderment, it’s the most relaxing thing ever. At some point, he even starts dozing off. At least he thinks he does because he nearly jumps out of his skin when Merlin says his name.

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?” he snaps his eyes open, looking up at Merlin upside down, seeing the other man smiling fondly.

“Did you fall asleep?”

“N-no?” he stutters, cheeks growing pink.

“Of course,” Merlin says in the way that screams he doesn’t believe him but humors him anyway. “Well, I’m all done here. How are you feeling?”

“Weirdly disconnected from my body,” he says with a grunt, attempting to sit up. “Shit, I don’t know how I’ll get any work done for the rest of the day.”

“What time do you finish?”

“Officially? Around five. Actually? Seven. Sometimes eight.”

“God, that’s disgusting.”

“You have no idea.”

“Thankfully, I don’t,” he agrees. “I’ll let you get dressed. Meet me in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?”

“Okay.”

It’s with sloth speed that Arthur puts his clothes on. In the back of his mind, he’s aware of Merlin’s busy schedule and can only hope he’s not stalling.

He squints at the bright light of the lobby when he emerges from the massage room. When his eyes adjust, he spots Merlin walking towards him with a glass of water. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks,” he accepts without objection, just because he’s barely standing. He doesn’t know what Merlin’s done to him but it feels like his body doesn’t even belong to him. He has no idea how he’s gonna drive back to work without driving himself into a street-lamp.

“How much do I owe you?” he asks when he’s chugged down the whole glass, reaching for his wallet.

“Oh. It’s already paid for. Freya used your credit card when she booked you in.”

Arthur blinks at him blankly. How dare Freya pay for something that Arthur hadn’t even agreed to yet?!

Yeah, as if she would ever take a no for an answer.

He sighs, pulling out a twenty pound bill regardless. “She would, wouldn’t she. That little shit,” he grumbles under his breath. “At least let me tip you,” he holds a hand with the bill to Merlin.

“Actually, she included the tip, too,” he says sheepishly, giving Arthur a crooked smile.

“Bloody hell,” he huffs indignantly, then takes a deep breath. “Whatever. Just take it.”

“But-”

“Merlin. Take. It. You’ve done a great job,” he insists, holding eye contact.

Merlin still hesitates at first but resigns eventually. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay. Thank you, Arthur,” he smiles appreciatively as he accepts the money. He bites his lip, seemingly in thought, then turns around and plucks one business card from the pile on the desk, grabs a pen and writes something down. “Here,” he turns to Arthur, holding the card to him. “If you ever feel like coming back for another massage.”

Arthur takes the card, noticing that Merlin wrote another number on in besides the one already printed. “Thanks but... I’m sure Freya has the number.”

“This is my personal number,” Merlin explains and Arthur’s brows shoot up in surprise. “I’m not always able to pick up the phone here but if you text me on my personal number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oh. Okay. Thanks, that’s very... um... I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Merlin mumbles, fidgety. Arthur finds it both amusing and confusing.

“Well, I should get going. Thank you again.”

“Oh! Of course, don’t let me keep you,” he rushes to say. “See you next time?”

“Yeah.” As non-committal as he sounds, he finds he means it. Something’s telling him he’ll be back sooner or later. Probably sooner.

“Take care of yourself, Arthur,” Merlin calls as Arthur opens the door on his way out and his heart skips a beat at the genuine tone.

He turns around to give the man one last smile before the door shuts behind him.

“So? How was it?” Freya advances on him as soon as he comes back. He slumps into his chair, sitting upright when Freya places a box of takeout in front of him.

“Fine.” Freya is not impressed. “It was good, okay?” he adds, opening the box to reveal his all-time favorite pad thai and all but inhales the food.

“Told you,” she says smugly, ignoring Arthur’s glare. “Gonna go again?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, that’s convincing.”

“Shut it, Freya,” he shoots back. “I got his business card. I’ll give him a call when I feel like it.”

“I can do that for you.”

“Nope, thanks. I’m sure I can manage to make a phone-call myself, even without an intervention of my obnoxious assistant.”

Freya throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Ungrateful prat,” she retorts and stomps out of his office.

“I heard that!”

Arthur lasts exactly four days and two hours before giving in and taking Merlin up on his offer to text him on his personal number to book another appointment. He didn’t expect to snap so quickly but after waking up the next day after his massage, refreshed and chirpy, feeling as though he had a brand new body - who could blame him, really.

Hey, Merlin. It’s Arthur. I was wondering if you had a slot available this week?

There, simple and straight to the point. Freya said that Merlin is usually booked out weeks in advance but asking never hurt anybody.

His phone chimes with an incoming message about ten minutes later.

Hi, Arthur! Nice to hear from you again. :)

Sure thing. Did you have a specific day and time in mind?

Nope, he didn’t. He was willing to adjust his schedule just to squeeze in an hour.

Not really. Freya implied that you’re usually fully booked so I thought I’d leave that up to you.

She’s over-exaggerating ;) I can make time.

Oh, God, he’s one of those people. Emojis and shit.

Oh. Okay, then. Thursday work for you?

It does :) What time?

This is... unexpectedly easy. He should have never let Freya bullshit him. But that’s what she does. She’d do anything to get her way and make Arthur do whatever she wants. No Christmas bonus for her this year!

Is 6pm too late?

As a matter of fact, he never finishes before six. Hell, he never finishes before seven. But maybe his friends are right. Maybe he should make time for himself once in a while. It won’t kill him, will it?

Thought you didn’t finish work until ungodly hour :D

He’s already typing out a reply but Merlin beats him to it with another message.

And it’s not too late. I’ll write you down for 6, then ;)

Oh. That easy, huh?

Thank you, he sends first, then rushes to add an explanation. I can make an exception once in a while. He hesitates with the next part but decides to throw caution to the wind, just this time. It’s worth it.

He regrets it as soon as he hits send, but doesn’t get a chance to wallow in it for too long before Merlin’s reply comes.

Oh no, now there are expectations I need to live up to :O

Jk. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself last time. See you Thursday ;)

Red to the tips of his ears, he types out a quick see you before pocketing his phone, busying himself with the remaining paperwork in hopes it will calm down his racing heart.

He’s not that lucky.

On Thursday, he wraps up his work just before 5:30, hoping it’s enough time to get through the traffic.

It is, as it turns out.Though he’s cutting it close, parking the car just two minutes before six.

“Sorry, I underestimated the traffic,” he rushes to apologize when he bursts through the door, finding Merlin lounging peacefully on the sofa, swiping through his phone.

As soon as Merlin lifts his eyes to meet Arthur’s, his whole face lights up with a wide smile. “Hey! No problem at all. You’re my last massage for today, so no rush.”

“Thanks but it’s already late. I don’t wanna keep you any more than needed.”

Merlin dismisses his worries with a wave of a hand. “Nonsense. It’s no trouble. Come on in,” he smiles encouragingly and Arthur dutifully follows him to the massage room. It looks exactly the same but Arthur feels much more at ease than last time, now that he’s familiar with it.

“Thank you again for finding time for me,” he says gratefully because it feels like he hasn’t said it enough.

It earns him an indulgent smile. “I was happy to do it. It’s no trouble, really,” Merlin repeats and Arthur takes the hint.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoes. “You know the drill by now, right? I’ll be back in a few.”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Merlin nods his head in acknowledgement, leaving the room to give Arthur privacy.

Similarly to last time, Arthur hangs his suit and shirt and folds the rest of his clothes, laying face down on the table and covering himself with the sheet. As promised, Merlin knocks on the door a couple minutes later, entering when Arthur gives him a go-ahead.

“Any requests today?”

He suppresses the urge to crack an inappropriate joke. “Not really. Same as last time is good.”

“Alright,” says Merlin and he starts the massage exactly in the same way he did last time, humming appreciatively when he rubs at Arthur’s shoulders.

“You’re not nearly as tense as before. Both literally and figuratively,” he points out.

“Yeah,” Arthur agrees. “I felt really good when I woke up the next day. All loose and relaxed.” He clears his throat, cringing at his wording. “And I was just nervous because it was my first time, I guess. Now that I know the ropes, it’s easy to just...”

“Let go?” Merlin finishes for him and... is that smugness he hears?

“Y-yeah,” he replies, feeling silly all of sudden.

“I’m glad to hear that. Glad I could help.”

“Me too.”

They remain silent after that. While Merlin doesn’t do anything out of the ordinary - or rather, anything that would be different to last time - Arthur can sense a shift in the energy in the room. In Merlin. In himself. He might be imagining it but he would swear that Merlin’s hands... linger - which is kinda a stupid thing to say, this is a massage after all, touch is a crucial component here - but... yeah... that’s what it feels like.

Every touch of Merlin’s hands on his body feels amplified, Arthur nearly vibrating in response to... he has no idea what he’s responding to. He only knows it feels good.

It feels right.

When Merlin asks him to flip onto his back, he’s relieved to find that the humiliating experience from last time is not gonna be repeated - no awkward boners today, ladies and gentlemen!

He hisses through his teeth when Merlin presses into a tender spot of his arm.

Merlin’s immediately apologetic. “Sorry! I didn’t expect you to be so sensitive here.”

“ ‘s fine,” he mumbles drowsily. “I might have overdone it in the gym today.”

“When did you have time to go to the gym?”

“Before work. Around five.”

“God, that’s disgusting. Why would you do that?” Merlin sounds truly appalled which only amuses Arthur.

“I’m too tired by the time I finish work. At least this way, I get a bit of a boost in the morning.”

“I’m still not convinced.”

“Shut up, Merlin. Without the gym, I wouldn’t have the ass you like so much.”

He snaps his eyes open in panic and finds Merlin gaping at him in shock.

“I... I did not... ugh...”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to say that, I swear! I’m just really tired, basically falling asleep. I just talk shit when I’m like that.”

Forget the boner. This is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to him.

Funnily enough, his stammering helps Merlin fight through his shock and now he’s more entertained than anything.

“No filter, huh? I can relate,” he brushes the whole thing off and resumes massaging over Arthur’s arm, softer this time and Arthur would moan appreciatively at the soothing effect the touch has on his sore muscles but given his previous faux pas, he doesn’t think it’s the right time for it.

Merlin works his way down to his hand, paying special attention to the spot at the base of his thumb that is always so stiff after spending hours and hours every day typing on his laptop.

A weird thing happens after that. Same as the last time, Merlin slides his fingers in between Arthur’s, squeezing and pulling until he hears a cracking sound of the joints. That is all well and good but instead of pulling away, he remains with their fingers interlaced. It almost feels... almost feels like they are holding hands.

Arthur opens his eyes again to give Merlin a questioning look but Merlin is staring at their joined hands instead, an expression on his face that Arthur can’t really decipher but if he were to guess, he would almost call it... longing.

Merlin must realize what he’s doing because his eyes widen as they lock onto Arthur’s, panicked and so blue.

“Sorry!” he blurts out, pulling away and ducking his head as he makes his way to the other side to repeat the process on the other hand.

Arthur feels the air around them grow thicker. He doesn’t know what happened exactly and doesn’t dare ask.

He can tell Merlin keeps himself in check as he finishes with his other side and it’s not long before he moves to the head massage.

After all of that, it’s really hard for Arthur to relax but he does his best as to not make things even more awkward.

He’s equally relieved and disappointed when Merlin’s hands disappear, signaling that their session has come to an end.

“I’ll meet you in the lobby when you’re ready, okay?” Merlin asks stiffly.

“Okay,” Arthur agrees, releasing a breath he didn’t know he’s been holding when Merlin shuts the door behind him.

Since he knows he doesn’t have to rush because he was the last client today, he takes his time putting the clothes on and mentally prepares himself for facing Merlin in a few moments.

It takes all of his courage to maintain eye contact when he leaves the room, coming to the desk where Merlin’s already waiting for him with a glass of water.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t finish the whole glass, his stomach too unsettled for that and pulls out his wallet.

“I know for sure Freya didn’t pay in advance since I booked the massage myself this time,” he comments in what he hopes is a light-hearted tone. It works because it draws a chuckle from Merlin.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, going quiet again but shaking himself off at Arthur’s expectant look. “Oh! Sorry, it’s seventy pounds.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow in surprise. While he wouldn’t know anything about the regular massage price, it doesn’t seem too much considering how popular Merlin is. According to Freya, anyway.

He plucks out two fifty dollar bills and hands them over. Merlin blinks at him in confusion. “Um... that’s a bit--”

“Just take it. You deserve it. You’re good and you went far and beyond to make time for me even at the late hour.”

“It was no tr--”

“Merlin, will you shut up and take the bloody money?” he nearly whines at the man’s stubbornness, relieved when Merlin eventually gives in.

“You’re so bossy,” he shakes his head almost fondly.

“Goes with the territory. I’m the CEO after all.”

“In that case, that was a lousy tip for a CEO.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

And just like that, the tension has disappeared and they are back to their easy banter.

“I’m just teasing,” Merlin reassures unnecessarily, a dopey smile still in place. “Let me know if you wanna do this again, yeah?” He sounds unsure, although why, Arthur has no idea.

“Actually, if you really don’t mind, could we make it a weekly thing?”

“Oh,” Merlin says with surprise. “Sure. Thursday again? Or do you want a different day?”

“Thursday is good. Six o’clock?”

“Yeah. Yeah, works for me.”

“Brilliant,” Arthur smiles back. “I’ll see you next week, then?”

“Looking forward to it.” The way Merlin’s face softens further shouldn’t make Arthur’s stomach do flip-flops but for some reason, it does.

Oh, no. Abort, abort!

“Yeah. See you,” he mumbles and all but runs to his car.

Arthur lets out a girly squeal when Freya slams a pile of papers onto his desk.

“Why haven’t you gone see Merlin again?” she asks accusingly and... wait, what?

“Excuse me?”

“I thought you liked the massage. That you felt better after. I thought you’d go back.”

Well, not that it’s any of her business but...

“I’ve been like four more times since,” he argues back, watching Freya’s furious expression turn confused.

“No, you haven’t. There’s no way you could have altered your schedule yourself without me noticing.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, annoyed that he, the fucking CEO, has to explain himself to his assistant. “Yes, I have. I’m going today, actually. I go every Thursday after work. Well, I finish early, so I can be there at six. Which, by the way, you could have done the first time around. I truly don’t understand why you’d rather mess with my appointments to get me a rushed massage on my break instead of simply booking one in the evening.”

If anything, Freya grows even more confused. “You’re lying.”

Arthur positively bristles at the insult. “I’m not!”

“You so are. Merlin doesn’t work evenings. And he doesn’t work weekends. His last bookings are for 4 o’clock. Hence why I had to book you for your break.”

He’s already preparing a come-back to defend himself when the words finally sink in. He snaps his mouth shut.

Then why... why did Merlin agree to Thursday evenings? That doesn’t make any sense.

“Are you sure you’ve got that right?” he asks instead because... because if it’s true, it puts many things into perspective.

Like the fact that Merlin literally beams every time Arthur shows up.

Or the fact that his touch seems to linger, seems to grow more and more intense with every visit. Like he’s enjoying touching Arthur.

At first, Arthur thought it was just his imagination, but upon checking the time when he got to his car only to find Merlin had extended the massage by at least ten or fifteen minutes, it was obvious that he wasn’t making it up.

Most importantly, it would explain why Merlin started texting Arthur randomly, usually on Fridays to ask how he was doing, if he felt alright and so on.

It would even explain why he would sometimes text on the weekend too.

It did not explain why Arthur indulged in the texting.

It did not explain why it was the highlight of his days.

“I’m sure,” Freya replies, confirming his growing suspicion. When he doesn’t react, she turns concerned. “Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

She hesitates. “You’re not lying.” A statement, not a question, but he still answers it.

“No.”

“Oh,” she breathes, out of words.

“Do you...” He clears his throat. “Do you know why Merlin would make an exception for me?”

The glint in her eyes suggests that she might have a good idea about that, but doesn’t say so. “I think you should ask Merlin that.”

Yeah. Yeah, he should.

He will.

“You seem very... serious today. What happened?”

“Why did you agree on 6pm Thursdays?” he asks directly before he loses the nerve.

“Huh?” Merlin blinks at him.

“Freya told me you don’t do evenings. Why would you let me impose on your time?” God, he feels so stupid.

“Oh,” says Merlin. “Well, first of all, you’re not imposing.”

“But-”

“Second, working for yourself has a lot of perks. Like that I can do with my time as I see fit.”

“So you decided to spend it on me.”

“More like spend it with you.”

Spend it with-- oh. Oh.

“What? Why?”

Unexpectedly, Merlin snorts. “You don’t know?”

No. No he doesn’t.

“No.”

“Oh, my, you’re a right dumbass.”

“Excuse you?!”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, apparently running out of patience. “I simply like you, okay? At first, I agreed because you seemed like you could use some relaxation. Quite a bit of it, really.”

Arthur bites his lip, hesitating with the next question. “And then?”

Merlin sighs, shoulders sagging almost in defeat. “And then I just liked seeing you.”

Arthur takes in a shaky breath, both startled and excited by the admission. “Why didn’t you just ask me out, then?”

Merlin laughs, but there’s very little humor in it. “That’s hardly professional, Arthur.”

“That’s what worried you?”

“Of course it did! It does! Jesus, Arthur, you have no idea,” he shakes his head, “no idea how much I have to hold myself back when I have my hands all over you.”

Arthur swallows audibly, noticing for the first time how dry his throat has gotten. Well, here goes nothing.

”What if... what if I don’t want you to hold back?”

Merlin stares at him with his mouth hanging open, his gaze roaming over Arthur’s face in search of something. Probably a confirmation.

“Arthur, that’s not--”

“It’s 6:02,” he blurts out.

“What?”

“It’s two minutes past six. You should have started with the massage by now.”

Initially, Merlin doesn’t respond, looking as though Arthur’s talking in a different language. When Arthur holds his eyes, hoping to prove his point, he resigns on any further arguments.

“Come on in then,” he instructs tiredly and Arthur follows him to the room. He’s shedding his jacket even before they get there. He hangs it and starts taking off his tie just as Merlin turns around to face him.

“Okay, I’ll let you--” He cuts himself off when Arthur pulls the tie over his head, throwing it on the chair and starts unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t bother,” he says, too pleased with himself when Merlin stays rooted to the spot, openly staring.

“Uh...” Is all he manages when Arthur gets rid of the shirt, exposing his chest (which - it’s not like Merlin’s never seen it before anyway) and begins working his belt and trousers open. Soon, he’s pulling them down together with his briefs, stepping out of his shoes in the meantime.

As he straightens up, completely naked, he takes a few seconds to appreciate the way Merlin looks at him, his jaw practically hitting the floor. Lips twisting into a smug smile, he turns to the table to climb on it, settling on his stomach as he does every time, except now he doesn’t bother covering himself up with a sheet.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he calls with barely concealed amusement when Merlin doesn’t move an inch.

“Uh... yeah. Yeah, let me just...” he stutters, reaching for the sheet.

“Leave it.”

“W-what?”

“No point.”

“But--”

“Merlin,” Arthur says darkly, “leave it.”

Thank fuck, Merlin actually listens and abandons the sheet in favor of grabbing a bottle of oil, pouring some in his hands with trembling fingers.

“Arthur...” he tries one more time, hesitant.

“Merlin,” Arthur returns. “Shut up.”

He hears Merlin exhale shakily and then, the familiar sensation of oil-slicked hands takes over all of his senses. He sighs in relief when the touch causes his body to go completely lax as it always does.

Merlin’s hands are unusually tentative, like he’s still not sure he’s got Arthur’s permission to touch him - like this - after what he admitted to him. It’s for that reason that Arthur starts making deliberate noises of pleasure, humming softly, or outright groaning and moaning when Merlin arrives to a particularly sensitive spot.

Above him, Merlin begins making noises of his own, but he sounds more pained than anything. Out of curiosity, Arthur turns his head to the side to peer at Merlin, just to be able to see what expression is on his face right now.

He doesn’t get that far because all of his attention is stolen by the very visible, very prominent bulge pressing against the front of Merlin’s trousers.

“Shit,” he utters before he can stop himself, feeling his dick twitch helplessly where it’s almost squashed between his body and the table.

Immediately, Merlin freezes on the spot, his breath hitching.

“I... Arthur...”

Arthur lets out another moan at witnessing Merlin’s obvious desire for him and returns his head to the previous position.

“You can do my legs now,” he says suggestively, but it sounds more like an order. For a moment, nothing happens. Merlin doesn’t withdraw his hands but he doesn’t move either. Arthur is about to impatiently prompt him to action but in the end, Merlin goes willingly, moving around the table until he’s standing at Arthur’s feet.

He covers his left leg with oil and proceeds to massage it from the foot up, almost as if nothing unusual is happening.

It’s not until he makes his way past the knee, to the hamstrings and inner thigh, that Arthur feels him falter, the pressure letting off and in a desperate attempt to urge Merlin on, he spreads his legs further apart.

Behind him, Merlin makes a choked off sound, his grip on Arthur’s thigh tightening.

“A-Arthur,” he says like a prayer and Arthur feels himself grow harder the lower Merlin’s voice drops.

“Go on,” he orders and this time, Merlin recovers faster, sparing barely a few seconds before he starts rubbing his thigh in circular motion, slowly working his way up, up, all the way to his ass - his very exposed ass.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers, barely audible, but Arthur hears him all the same. He knows what he’s asking and in lieu of an answer, he digs his knees into the table to push his hip up and back, groaning when the movement provides friction to his now fully erect cock.

“Do it,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please.”

Merlin makes an indescribable sound and then his slick fingers are dipping tentatively between his cheeks, brushing against his entrance.

Arthur feels his pulse quicken, heat spreading throughout his whole body at the single touch.

“Gods, Arthur, the sounds you make...” Merlin praises, rubbing at his opening in tiny circles.

“Merlin,” he returns, attempting to spread his legs further apart. Merlin all but growls at the display and then he’s bending over to pepper kisses over Arthur’s naked shoulders, even as his fingers press against him more insistently.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Arthur,” he mumbles into his skin and Arthur trembles at the soft-spoken words.

“Fuck me,” he moans, hitching his hips up. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Shit, Arthur, you can’t just.... can’t just say stuff like that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just hurry up and get on with it,” he tries to sound irritated but it falls flat when a whine is torn out of his throat as Merlin enters him with one finger.

“Shit. Shit...”

“Payback,” Merlin laughs, kissing just behind his ear.

“Merlin, I swear to God...”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he retorts with fondness and starts pumping the finger in and out.

Satisfied when Merlin actually listens, Arthur is able to relax again, offering himself to Merlin’s skilled hands.

He is nothing but gentle as he works Arthur open, adding more oil before a second finger joins the first, then a third one.

Under him, Arthur’s rolling his hips against the table, seeking as much friction as he can because Merlin’s taking too bloody long, checking on him every two fucking minutes. Just as he’s about to call him out, the fingers brush against his prostate, successfully stealing all the words out of his mouth, together with his breath.

“Fuck,” he grips at the edge of the table, struggling to breathe.

Merlin chuckles at his reaction. “You like that?” he asks smugly, totally unhelpful and unnecessary and hits that spot again.

“Would l-like it better if you f-finally got your dick in m-me,” he trips over his tongue, panting.

“Impatient,” Merlin clicks his tongue but before Arthur can tell him where he can stick it (pun intended), Merlin’s fingers leave him.

His breath hitches at the sudden emptiness and in hopes of speeding up the process, he gathers his strength to hitch himself up until he’s on all fours. He expects Merlin to climb up behind him but instead, there’s a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to twist to the side.

“Not like that,” Merlin explains, nudging him until he’s turned over completely, facing him. “I want to see you.”

Arthur wants to crack a joke, call Merlin sappy and whatnot, but he can only blush.

“Oh.”

“Can you sit on the edge?” Merlin instructs, helping him to get into position. He manages just fine by himself, sitting on the side of the table with his legs hanging off. He watches, mesmerized, as Merlin rids himself of his T-shirt and trousers in under ten seconds, feeling accomplished at seeing him so impatient himself even though he chastised Arthur for it only minutes ago.

“Eager, are we?” he teases, hearing the blood rush in his ears. Merlin gives him a dark look, clearly disapproving of his tone, and takes the final step until he’s standing between his open thighs, grabbing him by the hips and pulling forward.

The movement is so sudden that it sends Arthur flat onto his back, hips hanging off the table. Merlin nudges him to wrap his legs around him and braces himself against the edge with his hands.

“You’re such a bloody tease,” he chides with a shake of his head.

“Shut up, Mer-- fuuuck,” he nearly chokes as Merlin’s cock breaches him without a warning, sliding in fully with one push. “Shit.”

“Okay?” Merlin checks with a quake in his voice, proving he’s not as collected as he makes himself to be.

“Y-yeah. Just move already.”

Merlin chuckles. “So bossy.” Then proceeds to do just that. He pulls back almost completely before pushing back in, again, and one more time until he’s settling into a rhythm.

It takes Arthur a couple more minutes to catch his breath but when he does, he focuses on meeting Merlin halfway, although the position barely allows it.

“M-Merlin.”

Merlin snaps his hips almost violently at hearing his name tumble from Arthur’s lips in that tone and Arthur moans loudly when he drives directly into his prostate.

“Fuck! Fuck, Merlin. R-right there.”

“God, Arthur. It‘s so good. You’re so good.”

Arthur keens at the praise, urging Merlin to go faster.

Instead, Merlin halts all the movement, earning a desperate whine from Arthur. He chuckles at the reaction and leans forward to slide his hands underneath him to pull him up until he’s sitting up, their chests close enough to touch.

“Arthur,” he whispers in the space between them before there’s none because suddenly, Merlin’s crashing their lips together, unexpected and so good. He swallows the surprised sound from Arthur’s lips, licking into his mouth.

Arthur moans in agreement, wrapping him in his arms and deepening the kiss.

Merlin grabs him by the hips again and starts a new rhythm, his thrust shorter but harder.

Arthur whimpers against his lips, squeezing Merlin between his thighs. He gives up any effort to help Merlin out and decides to kiss the living hell out of him while Merlin plows his ass.

It works just fine and it’s not long before Merlin’s thrusts grow erratic and uncoordinated.

“A-Arthur,” he chokes out between kisses. “I’m gonna...”

Instead of replying, Arthur takes his lips in another kiss and clenches around his cock, drawing a hiss from him.

“Arthur!”

“Yeah, come on,” he encourages and clenches his ass again.

Merlin manages two, three, four more thrusts before he stills, buried to the hilt and spills himself inside Arthur. He presses his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck, panting against the sweaty skin while his hips continue their subtle grinding motion.

Arthur presses a kiss to his temple, sliding his fingers through the dark locks, marveling at the silkiness.

Merlin lifts his head to peer at him from under his lashes. His pupils are blown wide, overtaking all the blue of his irises. There’s a lovely flush to his cheeks and the way his fringe sticks to his sweaty forehead is almost endearing.

Arthur’s never seen him like this and he wants to appreciate the view but doesn’t get much time because then, Merlin is untangling his legs from around him and slides to his knees in front of Arthur. He gives him a little smirk before opening his mouth wide and swallowing his cock.

“Nngh!” Arthur yelps with surprise, throwing his head back in unexpected pleasure.

“Shit, Merlin.”

Merlin hums around his cock and starts sucking him in earnest. It feels so good he can’t even feel embarrassed when he feels Merlin’s come leaking out of him and to his shock, he also feels Merlin’s fingers slide into him again, hitting his prostate with deadly precision. “Merlin!”

It barely takes another half a minute before Arthur’s screaming himself hoarse as his orgasm overtakes him and he comes in Merlin’s mouth. Still, Merlin’s mouth doesn’t leave him, working him through his release instead until he’s whimpering from over-sensitivity and pulling at his hair to pry him off.

Merlin releases his cock with an obscene sound that echoes in the small room, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he stands up between Arthur’s open legs.

“Are you okay?” is the first thing he asks and Arthur can’t help but laugh.

“Are you for real?” Merlin just blinks at him. “We should have done that ages ago, instead of the massage.”

Merlin groans in annoyance. “That’s not the nature of my business, Arthur!”

His irritation only amuses Arthur further. “You could make an exception for me,” he teases, pulling Merlin closer and Merlin goes willingly, although the scowl is still on his face.

“That depends on how much you’ll tip me,” he shoots back.

“Oh, I’ll tip you all you want, Merlin.”

Merlin slaps the back of his head gently. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Hmm. But I think you like it,” he says smugly, pulling him into another kiss, letting out a moan when he tastes himself on his lips.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who just got fucked on a massage table.”

“You mean for someone who just talked his masseur into fucking him on a massage table.”

“I think manipulated is better-fitting.”

“Or seduced.”

Merlin scoffs. “You did not seduce me.”

“Oh, really?” he teases. “I’d say you gave it up pretty easy after seeing me in my birthday suit.”

“I did not!”

“You did, though.”

“Your mind is misleading you.”

“Whatever you say,” Arthur concludes dismissively, then gives Merlin a wicked grin. “Next time, you’re gonna lie down on this table and I’m gonna ride you.”

Unsursprisingly, Merlin all but chokes on thin air. “That... uh... sounds... agreeable.”

“I’ll say.”

“You’re so annoyingly confident.”

“Just because you make it so easy.”

“Arthur.”

“Merlin,” he huffs. “Shut up. And kiss me again.”

And for once, without a single protest, Merlin does just that.

OMFG, Merlin! You DIDN'T!

Huh?

Don't "huh" me! You know bloody well!

Apparently not.

You fucked my boss!

!!! JFC, I can't believe he told you! :O

I sent him your way so he got that stick out of his ass. Not for you to replace it with your dick!

He didn't. His limp did, jsyk.

He could have hurt his leg or something...

And he brought me coffee. He'd never brought me coffee before! I've never seen him in such a good mood!

Your welcome :-*

*You're

That's disgusting. I'm never getting a massage from you ever again!

Oh, well... it was worth it :-p

*Freya has left the chat*

#bottom!arthur #merthur #top!merlin #massage #bottom arthur fest

54 notes · View notes

luminescencefics · 4 years

Text

(there is) no time like the present

On his way towards the rest of their friends in the booth by the back of the pub, Niall finally spots Aisling’s auburn hair and glittery dress standing near the wooden table. He’d be lying if he didn’t think she looked quite pretty. Niall’s always known Aisling to be pretty, in a way that he knows that thunder follows lightning during a storm and that the sun always shines the brightest in the summer. It was just a universal thing.

But tonight, he finds that he’s entirely hyperaware of Aisling’s prettiness.

And he isn’t quite sure what to do about that.

A (short) story about a brown-haired boy and an auburn-haired girl trying to convince the world that they aren’t lonely, and how time really isn’t of the essence.

written for the 1dff discord server fic challenge

new year’s eve // roommates trope

niall/ofc, 8k words | banner credit

11:34

In Aisling O’Leary’s twenty-eight years of living, she has known two constants. The first being, she could never say no to people. No matter how hard she tried to, she just couldn’t bring herself to disappoint the people she cared about most in her life. She blames that on her trait of always trying to please people. The second constant is that she was a settler, in every sense of the word.

She settled with her group of friends in secondary school back home in Clifden. She settled when she chose to go to university across the country in Dublin instead of taking the leap and applying to schools in her dream city of London. She settled with her marketing position at a publishing house when her dream was to be an editor. And, she settled with her last boyfriend of two years, Cormac Hayes.

When he decided to end things with her three months ago, Aisling knows that she probably should have been more upset over it. Truth is, she stayed with Cormac for that long because it was easy. He loved her at arm’s length and she was okay with that. He gave her attention and loved her the best way he knew how, and although it wasn’t enough for Aisling in the end, she sort of just let it happen. And when she didn’t even shed a tear over losing her boyfriend of two years, she wasn’t surprised in the least.

That’s just how Aisling O’Leary worked.

She tries her hardest to ignore the constant ringing of her mobile from the inside of her purse under her work desk. It was Friday afternoon and she was practically the only soul in the office because most of her other co-workers decided to take the day off to prepare for this evening’s New Year’s Eve festivities.

Aisling didn’t really think too much about it, to be honest. What did she have to celebrate this past year? The fact that she received an end of the year bonus at her job that she hasn’t enjoyed for the past four years? The fact that she’s single, once again? The fact that she’s still living with her uni mate and putting off her goal of moving to London?

She pushes those thoughts away when an image of said uni mate flashes across the screen of her mobile.

“Niall, for the love of god, please stop ringing me,” Aisling scolds, harshly whispering into the receiver. It’s really no use considering it’s just her and the unlucky intern who couldn’t get the day off, but she does it anyways for dramatic intent.

“As lovely as ever, sweet Aisling,” Niall starts, the sound of whooshing air in the background a bit distracting. Aisling can only assume that he’s walking around outside, the sound of the chilling winter wind blowing through the phone loudly giving him away.

“Sorry, Niall. Just, uh, busy is all.” Aisling lies and Niall doesn’t even try to fall for it. She does feel a little bad for snapping at him, because it’s really not his fault that she’s in such a shit mood. And taking it out on her uni mate turned flatmate turned best mate just wasn’t really fair.

Niall Horan crashed into Aisling’s life during her first year at University College Dublin (the word crashed used very appropriately). She was sitting towards the back of her Art History lecture, a random gen-ed requirement her advisor forced her to take. She chose the back because she assumed she wouldn’t be bothered, but then eight minutes after class began, Niall ran in with flushed cheeks and his freshly bleached blonde hair standing up all over the place. And out of all the empty seats in the entire lecture hall, he chose to sit next to Aisling.

He spent the entirety of the lecture fidgeting in the plastic seat next to Aisling, looking over her shoulder at the notes she was scribbling down aggressively. He didn't even bother to bring a notebook, let alone a pen, to the lecture. Normally, Aisling would find that infuriating. But when it comes to Niall, Aisling has found that most of the things that should bother her just, well, don’t.

“I’m walking into the shops. Everyone’s been texting like mad about tonight, driving me up the fuckin’ wall. Did you put the group chat on mute again?” Niall asks and Aisling doesn’t even bother answering, because of course she did.

It’s not that she didn’t like her uni mates, because they really were the best friends Aisling has ever had. But when they decided amongst themselves that her and Niall’s flat would be the destination for pre-drinks tonight, conveniently leaving Aisling and Niall out of the conversation altogether, she couldn’t help but grow increasingly annoyed.

But in typical Aisling fashion, she just let it happen. She blames it on that first constant of hers.

“Just while I was working. Didn’t want to be distracted,” Aisling decides to say, pausing as she hears the sound of an automatic door opening and closing on Niall’s end. She knows he’s probably completely aware that she’s not that excited about tonight. But in typical Niall fashion, he tries to find the silver lining in every situation—even if he is feeling equally as shitty about this evening.

“Well, you’re probably the only person in all of Ireland working today,” Niall says, a chuckle added at the end to let Aisling know that he’s just messing with her.

“That’s not true. Sean’s here with me, having the time of his life.” Aisling watches the office intern sit at his desk with his head in his hands, clearly hungover and annoyed that he got stuck working the day of New Year’s Eve. She feels a bit bad for the lad, empathetic to his cause.

Niall agrees. “What’re we drinking tonight, Aisling? How ossified do we feel like getting, scale of one to ten?”

Aisling sighs. She knows getting drunk off her arse tonight is probably not the best move to make. But then she starts to think of her friends and how they seem a lot more bearable after a few drinks. She starts to think about the past three months of her life and how she feels like she’s just taking up space. She starts to think about the last phone call she had with her mam, and how she’s suddenly begun to worry about her oldest daughter. She starts to think about her future, and how she’s not really excited about it at all, to be fair.

The more she thinks about it, the more getting completely plastered sounds better and better in her head.

“Whiskey. Lots of it,” Aisling replies, sure and assertive.

“There’s my girl,” Niall says, and she can practically hear the glass bottles being added to the shopping trolley. “I’ll see you when you get home. Let’s just try and have fun tonight, yeah? Forget about all the bullshit.”

Aisling agrees to try her hardest to do that for Niall. But she’s got enough bullshit going on in her life to hold anybody down, and if she’s going to try and get over it, she’s going to need a lot of whiskey to do that.

And some courage—lots of it.

14:08

In Niall Horan’s twenty-eight years of living, he’s known two constants. The first being, he puts too much trust in other people, not nearly guarding his heart the way he should. He’s always fallen too quickly and too harshly, never really thinking of the repercussions. The second constant being that he was always blissfully one step behind everybody else, overlooking hidden clues and secret hints, not really understanding the longing look in another person’s eyes, or why their cheeks heat up around somebody’s presence. He wouldn’t blame that on selfishness, per se, rather, naiveté. If it wasn’t hitting Niall right in the face, chances are he completely missed it.

He’s thinking about his unguarded heart while lining up the various liquor bottles he bought at the shops a few hours ago, creating a makeshift bar on the kitchen countertop. His mind briefly falls to Sheridan, as it does most times when he’s feeling a bit lonely. He thinks about her blonde hair and turquoise eyes and warm pale skin. How she was the most important thing in his life on and off for five years. How he loved her with everything inside of him, and he figured that would be enough.

But then she gets a job offer a world away in America, and she takes it without even looking back. Without even considering how it would affect Niall. Without even including him in the conversation.

He wonders if she’s always been selfish with his heart.

Niall tries his hardest to not think about it. She left Ireland almost nine months ago, and he really has been doing better. He wants nothing more than to forget about this year. It was one filled with heartbreak and anger and pain, and the idea of drinking his sorrows away to start over again is exactly what he needed.

But there’s no denying that Niall Horan is admittedly lonely.

He thinks of Aisling, and how she seems just as lost as he is most of the time. Back in uni she was always the rational one between the pair, always taking notes and showing up to class and making sure that Niall kept his head on straight. When he meets Sheridan at the end of their first year, he remembers instantly thinking that she was the one for him. He blames it on that first constant of his.

Sheridan Walsh was beautiful and rich and, admittedly, so far out of Niall’s league the second he met her at a mutual friend’s house party. She was studying linguistics at Trinity as a hobby, a job at her parent’s enormous investment bank already secured. Her family had an expansive estate in Killiney overlooking Dalkey Island and Niall did everything he could to try and fit into her world.

When he meets her he charms her instantly, and the second he realizes that she was in a different social class than his own, Niall runs into Aisling’s dorm room and begs her to strip the bleach from his hair. He spends Years Two and Three doing everything he can to impress Sheridan, and finally one night she gives in, and he feels as if he’s floating through thin air.

To this day, Niall still isn’t sure what it was about him that made Sheridan finally agree to start dating him. She didn’t approve of his course of study, she found his hometown of Mullingar to be quaint, and she never really understood why he decided to live with Aisling in their too-small flat.

If there’s one thing Niall can appreciate most about his friendship with Aisling (and there’s a lot to be thankful for, to be fair) it’s that she tried her hardest to be nice to Sheridan, even though there would never be a world where the two of them would ever be friends. Aisling showed Niall how to properly knot a tie to prepare him for meeting Sheridan’s parents, she explained to him the difference between an oyster fork and a salad fork whenever he had to go to fancy dinner parties, and she constantly reminded him that he shouldn’t try as hard to fit into Sheridan’s world, because she loved him just the way he was.

If only it were true in the end.

In reality, Niall has a lot to be thankful for when it comes to Aisling O’Leary. He just hopes that he purchased enough whiskey to try and make her enjoy herself for the first time in three months.

17:41

Normally it takes Aisling twenty minutes to get home from her office near O’Connell Street to her and Niall’s shared flat in Ranelagh. But she’s stalling, walking along the River Liffey in the brisk evening weather instead of getting on the bus to start getting ready for tonight.

Niall knows this, as he’s grown accustomed to Aisling whipping open the front door twenty minutes after five, complaining about the crammed rush hour commute while untying her boots and throwing her scarf haphazardly over their wobbly coat hanger. He’s currently watching the clock change from the half hour mark almost nearing quarter to six, debating if he should ring her or not.

As if reading his mind, Aisling shoots Niall a text, assuring him that she’s not avoiding their mates (lie) and that she isn’t contemplating ditching this evening’s festivities (lie) and that she’s stopping at the nearest shop to grab snacks for their friends (half-lie turned truth). Niall doesn’t bother telling her that their friends already agreed to bring food over, because he knows Aisling better than she knows herself sometimes. Instead, he writes, Do what you need to do, A. I’ve got a drink waiting for you when you get home xx, and Aisling starts to feel a bit more at ease.

It’s near six when Aisling appears with a shopping bag filled with crackers and the nicest assortment of cheese she could find last minute. Niall can hear her usual foot pattern by the front door while he starts pouring the two of them whiskey neats in the nice glasses Sheridan re-gifted him two Christmases ago.

“Sorry I was late. The shops were brutal, too many people banging about. Couldn’t even find the good cheese Cara likes,” Aisling says, entering the kitchen with a smile headed in Niall’s direction. He watches as she starts putting the items into the fridge and respective cupboards, avoiding making eye contact.

“If you turned your mobile on every now and then, you’d have seen that Cara and Robbie already got food for tonight,” Niall says, sliding Aisling’s drink across the kitchen counter.

Aisling gives Niall a sheepish look. “Right. I was just—”

“—Busy.” Niall gives Aisling a look she knows all too well, and she immediately feels guilty, slumping down in the chair across from him. “Your mam rang me earlier. Was wondering why her lovely daughter wasn’t answering her calls.”

Aisling chuckles softly, bringing the glass to her lips. “Ah, of course she did. Sometimes I think she rings you because she likes you a bit too much.”

“What can I say? Mam’s love me—especially yours,” Niall says with a grin, puffing his chest out a bit.

Aisling snorts. “Did she say anything of interest this time ‘round?”

“Just went on about how your da can’t find a proper barmaid for tonight,” Niall says, the mention of Aisling’s family’s pub in Clifden bringing a nostalgic smile to her face. “She might have also mentioned that she’s worried about you.”

Aisling frowns. “Worried?”

Niall nods cautiously. “Yeah. She thinks you're lonely.”

Aisling pauses for a moment, watching the amber liquid inside her cup slosh with each swivel of the glass on the countertop. She really hates that word—lonely. To Aisling, loneliness implies the absence of something. How can she miss a feeling she’s never even truly felt in the first place? The only thing Aisling has felt for the past few years has been complacency. And that’s one she’d love to shed with the new year.

“Well, she’s nothing to worry about. ‘M not lonely,” Aisling mumbles, downing the rest of her drink with one large gulp.

Niall cocks an eyebrow in her direction. “That’s exactly what a lonely person would say.”

It’s one of those rare moments when Aisling can’t tell if Niall is taking the piss or genuinely concerned. But with one look in his blue eyes, Aisling decides to go with the latter.

“I promise you, Niall, I’m not lonely. It’s been three months. I barely even think about Cormac anymore, so quit your worrying,” Aisling counters, beginning to pour herself another glass, this time a bit shorter.

“You never even thought about him to begin with,” Niall quips, finishing his drink as well. “That’s what I’m worried about.”

Aisling doesn’t really know how to answer that, because there’s no denying that Niall is absolutely correct. She just isn’t quite sure how to explain to her best mate that she never truly felt heartbreak in the same capacity that he did. Cormac ending things with Aisling did not shatter her heart the same way that Sheridan did to Niall’s.

Aisling starts to wonder if there’s something wrong with this so-called heart of hers.

“I think I saw it coming before it actually happened, ya know?” Aisling begins to explain. “I think I knew Cormac wasn’t the one for me. It made the blow less harsh, in a way.” It’s a version of the truth that both Niall and Aisling can settle on. And she can tell that he’s understanding as he nods through his final swallow of whiskey.

“Just want you to be happy, is all,” Niall says, placing his empty glass on the countertop. “It’s the beauty of New Years, my sweet Aisling. You can start fresh.”

Aisling just smiles, finishing her glass as well. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

And this time, she truly hopes he is.

19:22

Aisling is starting to think that it’s far too early for her friends to be this inebriated.

It’s barely half past seven and her friends had started to arrive nearly an hour earlier. After her unsettling conversation with Niall, Aisling resorted to locking herself in her bedroom with the excuse of getting ready. Instead, she sat in the shower for far too long until the hot water turned cold, building up the courage to just try and let loose for one fucking night.

The second she hears Cara and Robbie enter the flat, Aisling immediately fights the urge to down another whiskey neat.

There was a time when Aisling believed that Cara and Robbie would be the first pair out of their uni group to get married. They had been together ever since Aisling lived next door to Cara in the dorms during her first year at UCD. And while everybody else had seemingly tried to grow up during the past seven years, Cara and Robbie seemed content in their post-uni bubble.

Aisling was pretty sure that bubble should have been popped some time after their twenty-fifth birthdays.

“Oi! Aisy! Pass me a fresh Smithwick while you’re at it!” Conor hollers over from the small loveseat in the living room when he notices Aisling heading towards the fridge for a new drink.

She nods, biting her tongue at the ridiculous nickname that he hasn’t stopped calling her since Year Two. Aisling’s just happy he isn’t calling her feek anymore.

If Aisling had the choice, she would never have had Conor worm his way into the inner-workings of their unusual friend group. But alas, Conor came along with Niall, and if Aisling wanted to keep Niall in her life (which she very much would like to), then she had to suck it up and deal with his unruly best mate.

Aisling passes Conor the freshly opened bottle of beer, smiling politely at the pretty brown-haired girl seated to his right. According to Niall, Conor’s been bringing her along to their group pub outings for a few weeks now. Aisling promised to remember her name if she stuck around for another month. Conor had a bad habit of flying through girls, and it became harder with each new face to remember their names.

Aisling heads back into the kitchen to start preparing the cheeseboard, watching in her periphery as a long slender red-painted finger reaches out to snatch a stray cracker hanging off the side of the tray.

“Wait your turn like everybody else, Han,” Aisling scolds, ignoring the snicker her friend makes in between bites of the cracker.

“Sorry mum, you know how I get if I don’t eat something before drinking,” Hannah says, her Scouse accent already beginning to muddle together. Aisling does her best to keep her eye roll to herself.

“It’s too early for you to be slurring. Lay off the drink until we get to the pub, okay?” Aisling responds, reaching out to grab the half-finished vodka tonic in Hannah’s shaky hands. She tosses it aside, hopefully long forgotten by the time Hannah finishes eating something.

She watches Hannah nod her head agreeably, before sneaking another cracker off of the plate. This time, Aisling doesn’t scold her.

“I’m sorry you’re ringing in the New Year all by yourself,” Hannah says after Aisling has a sip of her drink. “Shite being alone, innit?”

There’s that word again. Alone. Aisling shrugs half-heartedly even though she doesn’t really agree with Hannah’s logic. Even if she tried to explain it to her, she knows she wouldn’t understand it. While Hannah’s been a great friend to Aisling over the years, she’s admittedly been quite selfish. Therefore, Aisling tries not to burden her with matters of the heart.

Niall overhears the conversation when he walks into the kitchen with Hannah’s boyfriend Rory, and immediately he starts to feel a bit guilty.

Aisling and Cormac would never have met if it weren’t for Niall. They both played together in Niall's men’s league for footie, and he thought that they would be a good match together. So when he gave Cormac his flatmate’s number one night after practice and a week later they went out to dinner, Niall really believed that he did Aisling a solid.

Now though, he feels a bit shitty.

“What’re you two gossiping about?” Rory asks, slinging an arm over Hannah’s pointy shoulders, unaware of the awkward tension left hanging in the kitchen from Hannah’s previous comment.

“Nothing, babe. Just sad that Aisling won’t have a New Year’s kiss,” Hannah says, the backhanded dig flying completely over her head. Aisling feels it though, and so does Niall, who immediately steps in.

“Keep drinkin’ like that Hannah and you might not make it to midnight for a kiss this year either.” The lightness of his tone makes it seem to Hannah and Rory that he’s just joking with them, but Aisling knows Niall, and she can hear the undercurrent of frustration laced between his words. So when she lifts her head up and looks at him and already finds that he’s staring right back at her, she smiles a bit, mouthing a quick thank you in his direction.

Sometimes, she’s really lucky to have a friend like Niall.

21:43

Niall slams down his second shot of whiskey since entering the pub nearly thirty minutes ago, and he’s finally starting to feel that type of drunkenness where everything seems a bit lighter and everybody seems a lot happier. They’ve chosen a pub in Parnell Square in favor over the crowded pubs in the Temple Bar area, and he’s happy with their choice considering the pub is filled with twenty-somethings instead of the usual younger, rowdier crowd.

After the incident in the kitchen, Niall finds himself keeping a closer watch on Aisling. While he knows the past few months have been quite hard on her, he didn’t realize how apathetic some of their mates were. He also didn’t notice how sad it made her.

He wonders if she’s always felt like this, and he’s always just been too wrapped up in his own sadness to notice her own.

Regretfully, he blames that second constant of his.

“Oi, Horan! Drink up!” Conor yells over from his left, another shot of whiskey waiting for him on the bartop. Niall tears his eyes away from Aisling, instead focusing on the overflowing shot glass in front of him. He gulps, already mentally preparing to slow down in order to keep his wits about him until midnight approaches.

Niall shoots the drink back, slamming the glass onto the sticky bartop and wiping the back of his hand over his lips. He can hear Conor cackling beside him, and he tries to ignore the elbow digging into his ribcage. He tries to find Aisling’s wavy auburn hair through the crowd, or even her sparkly long-sleeved dress, but it’s no use. She’s too far out of his view.

“Are you lookin’ to pull?” Conor asks smugly after noticing Niall’s gaze flittering over the other side of the pub.

“Nah mate. Not tonight,” Niall replies, the thought of pulling a random girl for the night sounding entirely unappealing.

Conor turns towards his friend, putting his back to his pretty date. “Niall, tonight’s the perfect night for a random lay. C’mon mate, it’s New Years! Every single bird here is looking for an easy shag. It’s been months anyways, what’re you waiting for? Sheri’s not comin’ back.”

Niall tries his hardest not to flinch at his friend’s words. He knows deep down that if he really wanted to sleep with a random girl for the night, he could. And earlier, he probably would have done just that to cure his loneliness. But now the thought of doing just that sort of makes his skin crawl a little.

Including the fact that he can’t stop trying to find his flatmate in the crowded pub. But he’s not quite sure what that means.

“Fuck off Conor. I know she’s not coming back.” Niall’s annoyed that his friend decided to bring Sheridan up. He just wishes everybody would stop fucking bringing her up.

Conor just shrugs. “Then why aren’t you lookin’ for an easy lay?”

Niall’s grip on his whiskey coke is so tight that his knuckles turn white. He grits his teeth before taking a long sip, before giving his stupid friend one last annoyed look. “Because sex isn’t the answer to everything.” And with that, Niall walks away.

“It sure helps though, prick!” Conor shouts from his place at the bar, and Niall just shakes his head, ignoring him.

But tonight, he finds that he’s entirely hyperaware of Aisling’s prettiness.

He’s watching the way her head falls back when a loud laugh rips through her lungs, her long auburn hair falling past her shoulders, catching the dim pub lighting in a way that stops Niall dead in his tracks. The sparkles in her shift dress glitter with every bend of her knees or swivel of her hips, and Niall tries his hardest to keep his eyes off of Aisling’s lower half. Her eyes have that glow to them that only happens when she feels totally comfortable, and he’s wondering if it’s genuine or if the liquor is helping mask her unease surrounding tonight.

Before he’s caught, Niall pulls himself together and approaches the group.

“Niall!” Aisling squeals once he’s entered the small half-huddle the girls in the group have formed. She’s leaning in, a bit unsteady on her chunky heels, and Niall can feel the whiskey warmth of her breath fan over his cheeks. She’s definitely drunk, Niall thinks, securing an arm around her middle so Aisling doesn’t end up arse over tit on the dirty pub floor.

“Somebody’s havin’ fun,” Niall pushes through a grin, his arms tightening around her waist once Aisling presses two small hands on his shoulders to steady herself. She giggles and it sounds like the prettiest song he’s ever heard.

“Wasn’t it you who told me to drink away all the bullshit?” Aisling asks, finishing the rest of her drink, her head falling back on her neck dramatically as she swallows. Niall chuckles, grabbing the empty glass from her shaky fingers before it slips and cracks on the floor.

“Might’ve. But slow your roll, sweet Aisling. Still three hours left until midnight,” Niall tuts, smiling a bit when she huffs out in disappointment, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. He finds it incredibly adorable.

“Don’t leave me alone with these eejits then! They’re the ones forcing drinks down me throat!” Aisling calls out, pointing a skinny finger towards Cara and Robbie who look responsible. Her Western accent grows much stronger with each level of intoxication Aisling passes, and Niall knows that if she continues he’s going to start struggling piecing together what she’s trying to say.

So he laughs, removing his arm around her waist and throwing it around her shoulders instead, pulling her closer to his chest so that his chin rests above the crown of her head.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya,” Niall says, and Aisling smiles back, squeezing his hand that dangles in front of her chest tightly in thanks.

Niall squeezes back, thinking that if he had to spend the next three hours with her, he wouldn’t mind at all. He especially wouldn’t mind it if Aisling was still tucked under his arm once midnight struck.

23:38

Aisling has spent the last twenty minutes holding Cara’s curly hair back while she retches into the toilet. She stopped drinking about an hour ago once she noticed the pallor beneath Cara’s copper skin, knowing it was only a matter of time until she grew sick.

And just like clockwork, with an hour to go until midnight, Cara grabbed Aisling with shaky hands and dragged her to the toilet before vomiting into the porcelain basin below. Aisling rubs her friend’s back, wrapping her curly hair around her wrists to make sure the coiled tendrils stay vomit-free.

She wishes the night didn’t have to end like this.

But it seems to always happen whenever she’s around Cara. As much as Aisling loves her, she can’t help but wonder if this is how it’ll always be with her friend. She wonders when she’ll finally just grow up.

Once again, Aisling has to give up her night in order to make sure Cara’s isn’t ruined.

Cara moans under her and Aisling snaps out of her miserable state, asking her friend if she was okay and if she needed anything. Cara shakes her head, albeit still unsteady on her feet as she slowly hobbles over towards the sink. Aisling sighs for what feels like the hundredth time, wishing her friend would stop being so stubborn.

Before they leave the toilets, Aisling dampens some paper towels and blots it over Cara’s sticky forehead. Her friend swats at her wrists angrily, snatching the wet paper towels from Aisling’s hands and throwing it into the rubbish bin.

“‘M wearing foundation Aisling! Christ, yer gonna fuck it up!” Cara scolds, walking past her friend and fixing what’s left of her mangled curls into a topknot.

Aisling just frowns, wishing her friend would be a bit kinder to her considering she did just spend the better part of her evening holding her hair back and listening to her retch into a shitty public toilet.

“Sorry,” Aisling mumbles, because she knows she could never yell at her friend no matter how angry she makes her. Aisling would rather not rock the boat, so instead she just lets Cara take out her frustrations on her. She’s been doing it for the past seven years anyways, why stop now?

Cara says nothing. Instead, she irons out her black dress with her hands and leaves the toilets, heading towards their group of friends in the back of the pub. Aisling watches her go, taking a few seconds to herself to just breathe.

If Aisling were a different person, she probably would have told Cara off for acting like a Grade A Bitch. She would tell her to stop being so selfish, to stop making everything about her, to stop acting like such a fucking child.

But Aisling is not that person.

So instead she shakes those words from her head, focusing on regulating her breathing and making sure the redness in her cheeks goes away. She wishes she was the same level of drunkenness she happened to be a few hours ago, where everything seemed a bit more bearable and she wasn’t focusing on the shittier parts of her friendships.

When she emerges from the hallway, she spots Niall immediately. She’s found that he’s always standing a bit closer to her than normal, always making sure she’s okay and that she’s enjoying herself. She’s grateful for it, if she’s being honest, because out of everybody in this crowded pub, she’s happy that it’s Niall who’s standing by her side.

She watches as his brown hair flops over his forehead, hanging around his face in a messy boyish way. He looks handsome with his white button down shirt tucked into his navy blue houndstooth dress pants. When he turns a bit so he can laugh at whatever obscene joke Conor just made, she can see the way the shirtsleeves tighten around his flexed bicep, and the way his waist looks thinner when he swivels his hip, and the way his arse arches in his new pants.

Aisling is immediately transported back to a time when every movement Niall made would make her blush uncontrollably. When his hair was blonder and his laugh was louder and he wasn’t as muscley—when he would barge into her dorm room at all hours of the day and show up at Aisling’s library table and doodle notes and scribbles on her coursework. When she found herself crushing on her first ever real uni mate, when she tried her hardest to ignore it, until it ultimately faded as the years passed on.

But sometimes, in moments like this, the feelings would shoot straight into her chest like a lightning strike, and she finds herself struggling for air. It usually happened in fleeting moments—typically when he laughed so hard his blue eyes scrunched, or he held her really tightly whenever she had a bad day, and especially when he called her sweet Aisling.

And just like that, the moment is gone, leaving just as quickly as it came. As if noticing her absence (something that he’s been doing a lot of tonight), blue eyes meet hazel and he cocks his head in concern, the silent question of Are you okay? floating through the air until it stops right in Aisling’s path.

She nods her head and it’s entirely unconvincing. But before Niall could leave their friends and approach Aisling, she gestures towards the bar with a small smile, insinuating she was going to grab a new drink. Niall just nods, staring at her as she approaches the bartop.

As soon as she feels the heat of his gaze leave her back, Aisling orders a water. Suddenly, she doesn’t want to be here anymore, the dreaded feelings she had earlier in the day flooding her insides without warning. She doesn’t give a fuck about midnight anymore, doesn’t give a fuck about watching her mates cheers to the start of a new year.

She just wants to leave.

23:55

Niall turns away from his conversation with Conor, wondering why Aisling hasn’t returned to their spot in the back of the pub. He watched her head towards the bar almost ten minutes ago, and he’s not quite sure if there’s something wrong.

He’s reminded back to the lifeless look in her eyes when she left the toilets with Cara moments ago, and he instantly feels his stomach drop a little at the thought of something bad happening to her. Did they get into a fight? Did Cara say something to upset her? Where the fuck is she?

“Cara, where’s Aisling?” Niall asks, leaning into her ear to talk over the loud music. He cranes his neck towards the bar where he last saw her, and finds that her auburn hair is no longer in view.

Cara shrugs her shoulders, looking less than interested in this conversation. “Dunno, mate. Fucked off in the jacks ‘coupla minutes ago.” Niall scrunches his nose at the lingering smell of bile on her breath.

“What’d you do?” Niall knows that his tone is a bit accusatory, but he feels like an idiot for not realizing that Aisling was upset sooner. He’s instantly brought back to the kitchen when Hannah hurt her feelings, and Niall’s left wondering if he’s as much of a prick as their friends have been lately.

“Oh, fuck off Niall,” Cara starts, laughing even though it’s not funny. “Did nothin’! She probably just doesn’t wanna be ‘ere durin’ midnight ‘cos she’s single and all.”

Niall knows that isn’t true. He also knows that if Cara had asked Aisling herself, she would know that Aisling could give less of a shit about being single.

Niall’s suddenly left with the unwavering thought that maybe nobody has asked Aisling how she’s truly felt in a long time.

Before he can reply, he notices the countdown start to begin, and suddenly he doesn't want to be around his friends at all.

He wants to find Aisling.

23:59

Aisling can hear the ten second countdown from her spot outside the pub, leaning against the cold brick wall, cooling her down from the inside out. Her winter coat is still clenched in her right hand, the heat of her anger keeping her warm against the evening breeze.

Her eyes are closed tight and she’s trying her hardest not to cry. Aisling knows it’s stupid—crying over her friends who didn’t even spare her a second glance when she stormed out of the pub door. She doesn’t want to blame them, because even though they can be selfish and unaware of her sadness, Aisling has let it slide for far too long. She’s starting to think that her friends have grown accustomed to her knack of shrugging things off her shoulder, and she really only has herself to blame.

Aisling sighs as she hears the countdown end, the sounds of celebration reverberating through the thick brick. She’s ringing in this new year alone, as it seems, and she wonders if she’s part to blame for it.

She wonders why she’s never spoken up when her friends overlook her feelings and say hurtful things about her. Aisling knows that they aren’t intentional, and that her friends don’t truly mean to hurt her feelings, but part of her wishes they would just understand.

She wonders why she’s never been bold enough to go after the job she actually wanted. Why she stays working her shitty desk job day after day, losing interest in everything around her. Why she never acted on that job listing she received an email from in London, why she never even tried to move there in the first place.

She wonders why she’s wasted so much time trying to find love in boys who can never offer her what she truly needs. Why even though Cormac was a sound lad, she knew he wasn’t right for her, but the thought of leaving him was much more difficult than staying, so she chose the easier option.

Aisling wishes she was the type of person to speak up, to act on what she wants, to simply be better.

But she isn’t.

So she sinks down to the cool pavement below her, her neck stretched upwards as her head rests on the brick wall. Her eyes are still closed shut, and she thinks that if she keeps them closed, she can squeeze out the girl she so badly wants to get rid of.

She thinks that when she opens her eyes again, she’ll be a new person. The person she wants to be.

00:03

Niall finally finds Aisling outside, her head resting against the wall upturned towards the night sky. Her eyes are closed and Niall’s eyes are trained on her long ivory neck, and he wonders what would have happened if he came out here just as the clock struck midnight.

He shakes that thought from his head, because she looks so small. So unsure. So sad.

Aisling doesn’t look at Niall until he’s sitting near her with his warm hand resting on her bent knee. He’s looking at her as her eyes flutter open, hazel eyes glassy from the tears threatening to fall. He knows Aisling though—knows her so well that she won’t let them fall, no matter how badly she wants to.

She offers Niall a weak smile, and he’s sitting close enough that he can see her bottom lip wobble. It makes him angry.

“Ready to get out of here?” Niall asks softly, ignoring the millions of other questions he wants to ask her. He knows how fragile she is. How adamant she is about not explaining her feelings, so he takes the easy way out even though it kills him to do so.

Aisling smiles at him, a little stronger than before. “Please.”

Niall doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he stands up, grabbing her winter coat in one hand and her smaller hand in the other. Once she’s standing in front of him, close enough that he can feel her shaky breath on his neck, he holds open her coat and buttons her up.

“Let’s go.”

00:52

Niall and Aisling have been sitting around the kitchen island, a half-finished bottle of whiskey on the countertop between them. Aisling’s heels are discarded somewhere near the front door, her feet resting on the unoccupied stool to Niall’s left. He’s rubbing her shins in between pulls of liquor, his navy blazer thrown over the couch, the top few buttons of his crisp white shirt opened to show his patch of chest hair.

They haven’t really said much in the fifteen minutes they’ve been home. Niall knows when to bite, and he knows that getting Aisling reacquainted with whiskey will make the conversation a lot easier.

So they sit. And he jokes. And she smiles.

It’s only after Niall says something stupid that makes Aisling snort—something that should be completely unattractive to most but Niall finds it incredible endearing—that her words make Niall’s heart stop.

“God, now I remember why I had such a crush on you in uni,” Aisling says after a pull of whiskey.

Niall stops his laughing, eyes immediately going wide. “Wait, what?”

“Oi, quit being an eejit,” she says with a roll of her hazel eyes. “Don’t act surprised, everybody knew.”

But Niall can’t help it. He is surprised.

Why hadn’t anybody told him? More so, why hadn’t she told him?

Was he really the only person who didn’t know?

“Aisling, why didn’t you tell me?” Niall asks, his voice void of teasing. He’s honest and when she looks deep into his ocean eyes, Aisling realizes that she probably shouldn’t have mentioned the crush she had on him in uni seven years ago.

“I genuinely thought you knew. Christ Niall, everybody knew,” she whispers, placing the whiskey bottle back on the table separating them.

“I just—I,” Niall’s confused. And overwhelmed. And slightly angry with himself. “Just wish I knew, is all.”

“Why? It wouldn’t have changed anything, Niall. It was years ago. And you were with Sheri. It really isn’t a big deal, I shouldn’t have said anything—”

“—Don’t do that,” Niall says abruptly, cutting her off.

Aisling’s eyes widen, mirroring Niall’s. “Do what?”

Niall huffs in response, running a frustrated hand through his messy hair. “Act like your feelings don’t matter. They do. And I just—fuck, I dunno, Aisling. I just wish I fucking knew.”

“Why, what would you have done?” Aisling asks, repeating herself, half out of annoyance and half out of sheer curiosity. She truly wishes she just kept her fucking mouth shut.

“Who knows,” Niall says, grabbing the whiskey bottle for himself and pouring it down his throat. “Probably would have spared myself the heartache of dating a girl who could give less of a shit about me. But hey, the past is in the past. New year and all that. New beginnings or summat.” He holds up the bottle in a false cheers, his eyes dull and harsh.

Aisling’s replaying what he said earlier over and over in her head, watching as her best mate continues to gulp back whiskey.

Act like your feelings don’t matter.

Has she been doing that for years now? Acting like her feelings are insignificant, like everybody else’s feelings are more important than hers? Like every thought she has is just her completely overthinking everything?

She reaches out and grabs the bottle from Niall’s lips, placing it on the countertop in front of them with a gentle thud.

“It’s not that I don’t think my feelings matter,” Aisling starts, her voice a small mumble. “It’s just—nobody bothers to ask. I’m always helping everybody else with their problems, and it’s not that I don't want to, because I’d do it for anybody. I’m just different, I suppose. I keep things in, because sometimes the things I try and say are just shit, if I’m being honest. So I don’t really say anything.”

Niall sighs sadly, reaching across the countertop for Aisling’s hand instead of the whiskey bottle.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Niall starts, a sad look on his face. “I’m sorry I never bother to ask sometimes. It’s just, fuck Aisling, you’re just hard to read sometimes. And it’s so frustrating ‘cos you’re my best mate, yeah? I care about you so much.” Niall’s thumbs are brushing against Aisling’s hands and she tries her hardest not to shudder. “Hate when you keep things in. Need you to tell me, yeah?”

Aisling nods and she prays that Niall keeps his hands in hers.

“‘M sorry too, Niall. Care about you, too. Quite a bit.” Aisling is wondering if she’s imagining Niall leaning closer towards her, or if she just wants it to happen so badly that she’s conjuring it up in her own head.

Sitting across from Aisling in their tiny kitchenette, Niall wonders if he’s ever truly thought about kissing her before tonight. Sure, Aisling’s always been beautiful. And sure, she’s been one of his closest mates ever since they first moved in together. But as he sits here, watching the way her skin glows from the overhead lights, watching the way she’s slowly leaning in towards him, he’s really thinking about it.

So he leans in, too.

And he kisses her.

01:14

When they break apart, Aisling feels as if she’s on fire. Her forearms are balancing her upper body on the countertop, and Niall’s longer arms are holding her elbows tightly. Blue eyes meet hazel and their faces are so close that Aisling’s eyelashes are tickling the apples of Niall’s cheeks.

They’re breathing each other in before Aisling’s hand wraps around the back of Niall’s neck and she’s bringing his lips against hers for another searing kiss.

He reacts almost instantly, bringing one hand away from her elbow and up to her cheek, slotting his bottom lip over her top lip and holding back a groan from the back of his throat.

They break apart again, the edge of the counter digging into Aisling’s chest in an uncomfortable way. She sits back against the chair on her knees, her breathing labored and eyes blown wide. Niall’s staring at her, taking in her rosy cheeks and her messy hair, her swollen lips and huffing chest.

He thinks she’s the prettiest thing he’s seen all night. (Even though he knew that to begin with, to be fair).

So he stands up, holding an outstretched hand towards her body, giving her a boyish grin to which she returns instantly. “C’mere.”

Aisling practically jumps into his arms then, leaning her entire torso onto his with her arms wrapped securely around his neck. She can feel Niall’s forearms against the small of her back, and she’s standing on the tips of her toes in order to press her lips fully against his.

Niall squeezes against her hips and Aisling gasps, her mouth opening against his allowing him to lap his tongue against her own. It’s everything and more, and the sound exploding from the back of his throat practically causes Aisling to melt against his chest.

His hand is knotted into her hair, pulling back slightly so that she can reach his mouth. Aisling slowly starts to back Niall up against the wall adjacent to the hallway, and with that support he can run his hands down her back and against her bum, squeezing the skin through her glittery dress. When he pulls away for a breath, Aisling starts to kiss down the hollow of his throat, sucking a lovebite against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, causing Niall to rock his hips against hers.

“Christ Aisling,” Niall says through a strained breath, his head falling back against the wall when she blows over the fresh mark on his skin.

She steps away cautiously, her eyes wide in anxiousness. Was she doing too much? Niall practically whines when the warmth of her body leaves his own far too quickly, and his arms stretch out to bring her back to him.

“Is it too much? We can stop and forget that it even—”

“—What? Christ, who’s being the eejit now? Don’t leave,” Niall rushes out frantically, pulling Aisling flush against his chest to continue what they were doing before she left.

Aisling giggles into his mouth and it’s probably the sweetest sound he’s ever heard (a close second to her groaning into his mouth earlier). Before she can retreat again, he begins walking them backwards until she’s pushed up against the wall separating their bedrooms.

He breaks away and looks at her with a cocked eyebrow, a smirk growing against his strawberry swollen lips. “Mine or yours, sweet Aisling?”

Aisling laughs a bit, her arms still locked around his neck. Her hands are playing with the hair against the back of his neck, and he’s practically purring at the feeling of it. Without really thinking much (because how could she with the way he was looking at her?) she grabs the closest doorknob to her (which so happens to be hers) and opens it swiftly, dragging Niall by his forearms into the room until the backs of her knees hit her mattress and she’s falling into it with a gentle thud.

It’s all tangled limbs and pulled hair and knocking teeth, and they both could never have imagined their night ending this way. Niall practically rips the hidden zipper of Aisling’s dress off (“Sorry babe, can’t stop thinkin’ about what you look like under it”), Aisling tears through the remaining buttons on his white dress shirt, running her fingers through the hair on his chest causing him to groan against her neck (“Do you like that, Niall?”), Niall flips them over and when he’s leaning over her staring at Aisling hungrily in her cute little matching underwear set, he’s practically drooling at the mouth (“Dear god Aisling, you’re beautiful”), and when they’re both stripped down to nothing but skin and Niall’s leaning on his forearms over her, pushing into her with one swift breath, Aisling can feel herself falling apart inside (“Christ Niall, you’re everything”).

And when it’s all over and done with and they’re both lying against each other, breathing in and out, Aisling suddenly has a realization.

Truth is, maybe her and Niall were alone. But, for one night at least, they could forget about that. Why be alone by yourself when you could be alone together?

So with that thought, she cuddles deeper into Niall’s chest, feeling his hand tread through her auburn hair softly. Before she drifts off, he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, mumbling a quiet Happy New Year, sweet Aisling into her hair.

And when she mutters it back to him, sealing it with a kiss to his collarbone, she actually believes it for once.

That it was, truly, a very happy New Year (in the end).

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darkmist111 · 3 years

Text

Phantom Thieves Play Dungeons and Dragons

The Wander and the Worker

Akira had faced many trials, both legally and spiritually. He had also been a master of organization, stuffing as much activity as he could into a single year.

Yet this challenge nearly brought him to his knees.

“So you only add 2 to armor class?”

“No that's only for medium armor your un-armored right now.”

“Shit I should've picked a race with more dexterity.”

It was like herding cat's, without Morgana’s help.

“You guys ready? It's almost 5.” Akira said know that this group could double a session’s play time.

“Hold on I’m trying to memorize our modifiers.” Ann said squinting as she had forgot her glasses at home.

“Don't worry just remember your crap at everything not dexterity and charisma.” Ryuji said nonchalantly.

The plan was to get all the players to level 2 before they got to the main campaign, so Akira did this little mini session with 2 characters first so the players could slip into their roles.

“Alright are we ready to play?”

Ryuji had finally gotten Ann to stop fusing over her papers.

“As we’ll ever be I guess *sigh* I really hope I don't die at level 1 again.” Ann groaned.

“Hell yeah let's kick some ass!”

“Alright close your eyes and listen.” Akira took a deep breath and his voice changed.

“This is the world of Exceeden”

Akira peaked and caught the grins on his two friends faces.

“Unlike our world with disconnected planets, the world of Exceeden is but one layer stacked in-between other realms, but different from the other realms Exceeden did not occur naturally but was created by 20 core gods. The gods were once one shared in their love of their creation, however what they didn't know was it would grant them more power than even their unparalleled minds could imagine.

Jealousy, anger, spite, and rage broke them apart each believing their creation should go the way they decided and the 20 became 5. 6 of Law, 6 of Chaos, 2 of Good, 2 of Evil, and 4 to keep the balance.

While the realm has no supreme rule the cycles of mortals carry on. Empires rise and fall, stories are told and forgotten, until finally the sands of time cycle towards something or someone that can shatter the heavens despite their humble beginnings.

The year is 997 A.I.(After Invasion) and our story takes place on the continent of Almoria. While not the largest continent it houses a wide array of People and Cultures in no small part due to the many differences environments.

In the far north in the icy tundras Orc and Goliath tribes war against the Tiefling Solos Empire and their Minotaur allies even further north in the Shadow Lands.

Below that are the eternal plans of Sparks where wild magic hum and fae slip into our world. Bands of Centaur and Satyr dance across the fields, unknowingly starting war with the Leonin Clans.

On the east of the Great Sezali Desert a new and ambitious clan of HobGoblins are gathering their forces of Goblin and Bugbear.

This makes the Elven Allied Council to the west nervous and the desert has become a sort of cold war, but also a hive of activity for trade and merchants.

On the West Coast the Aarakocra war against the Triton and the East Coast, the legendary Tortle Cleric Genbu brokers peace between the Locathah and the Grung.

In the Mountains Kobold, Lizardmen and Dragonborn War against a unfathomable threat as the Chromatic dragons and Metal Dragons have united to control the Arcane Canyons.

With the fall of Tyrant Human King Rexanik, many flee to the peaceful mountains city of Eternix. The city, nicknamed the city of small folk, was almost completely Gnomes, Halfling, Dwarfs, as well as the Black Wing Monastery, suddenly has possibly the highest human density in the continent.

Humans have also tried their luck in the chaotic Forest of Nayan only to be never heard from again.

In the south peace is almost a certainty as the brotherhood between the Loxodon and Gith remains just a strong as a century ago. Their city Omniox hold the Verdan trading Guild the only constant in these turbulent times

Not all is so clear though, hidden in the desert are rumors of cults who use arcane, scientific, and religious methods to create inhuman monsters that stalk the night.

However it is that Desert where we start our story in the town of Ixyana. Ixyana is a port town to the sea of sand, willing to offer weary travelers any pleasure they require... for the right price. Ixyana has always been self governed but with escalating tensions between the Elven and HobGoblin armies, the town is being pressured to pick a loyalty. But today neither a Goblin nor Elf is the new stranger in town.”

“Ryuji please introduce your character.”

“I’m just a guy who looks like an average traveler, I’m wearing normal cloths and using a spear like a walking stick, the only unusual thing about me is that have blue skin and white “Hair”. I’m a Fighter but only because you get in fights when you wander as much as I do, but it's clear I’m not formally trained.”

The wanderer enters the town carrying a satchel over his back midday. He makes his way towards a inn looking to rest for the night. He hears a commotion and see several HobGoblin warriors speaking angrily toward each other, before rushing off. The young man enters into a alley to avoid crossing their path, as he steps out he sees another beautiful HobGoblin women in revealing clothes dart out from behind a stack of boxes. Before his eyes she begins to shift form before becoming a striking dark haired Elven women and quickly entering the Inn.

“Well That's a Flag if I’ve ever seen one.”

The man is overcome with curiosity and follows her. He enter the inn and sees the first floor is a diner/bar.

At this time of day not many people are drinking and lunch is already over so the inn is uncrowded.

The blue man sees the former HobGoblin women now Elven sit in the corner of the bar skillfully blending in for those not looking.

As he walks up to her she glances before biting her lip.

“Sorry I’m not working right now.”

You realize from her statement and her outfit that this women is one of the courtesans of the towns most powerful group in place of a formal government, The Desert Respite, worshipers of Bast one of the 20 original Gods and practitioners of the arts of pleasure both of a sexual nature and of entertainment.

“I still can believe your playing a Prostitute.” Ryuji says teasing.

“For your information I’m a high class escort. And let's see if you’ll be laughing in a few minutes.”

“Sorry it's not that I... I just... saw you change.”

The woman tenses her eyes narrowing and grits her teeth.

“So what?”

“Are... Are you a Spirit.”

The women slowly turns her head, seeing the nervous young man though in her eyes he's more of a boy shift his weight nervously.

“Perception check!”

“Roll for it.”

“...!!!! Natural 20!”

“Heh, yeah he's a pretty easy mark.”

“Hey!”

She smirks before tipping her drink back and gesturing to the seat across from her.

“From out of town.”

“Out from... everywhere.”

She changes her posture, trained but attractive.

“The desert must've been quite the ordeal, I didn't notice a Caravan enter town. Is your group somewhere else?”

“No, I’ve been traveling alone.”

“Alone?”

“Yes I am quite skilled at traveling, born and raised doing it in fact.”

“Incredible, you must be strong.”

The women bit her lip while the blue skinned man sweat feeling nervous from the shapeshifters forward flirtations.

“You know I have a certain need for a strong man.”

“Role Wisdom Ryuji.”

“What! She hasn't even cast anything.”

“Your mouth was dropped.” Ann teased. “Let's hope your character isn't a simp.”

“No way!”

Ryuji rolled.

“Shit! 6, 7 total.”

“Simp”

“Shut up!”

“What did- What do you need. I’m always looking to help out.”

“You see a girl can only stay in one town for so long before she needs a change of pace. I’m thinking you’ve been to plenty of places, why don't you and I go on adventure.”

The spearman let out a yelp as he felt her leg delicately trace his own.

“And I’ll be sure your thoroughly compensated.”

“Roll Perception against Ann’s Persuasion.”

“Yes!”

“Shit”

Ann rolled and grinned which caused Ryuji to hang his head.

“21 total Persuasion!”

“Goddamnit, 14 total.”

“Yeah she has you wrapped around her finger.”

“*Gulp* There’s no need for that ma’am, I'd be happy to guide you wherever you desire.”

The man saw her smile turn victorious and her leg rubbed a little higher.

“Don’t worry it's no trouble, when we stop for the night I can give you a nice and long compensating.”

_______________________________________

The pair quickly gather their things the shapeshifter, changing again into a stunning Yuan-Ti. They walked through the town. Some men stared at the shabby looking Traveler and the beautiful courtesan, leering at her exposed cleavage, open thighs, and toned belly, others smirked and gave respecting nods. He glared and the former while that latter made him feel like a scumbag.

She insisted they walk on foot so not to draw attention. The man frowned but didn't say anything.

As they walked they chatted.

“My names Zap by the way.”

“Nais of the Desert Respite.”

“So Nais, are you wondering what I am?”

“Probably not as much as your wondering what I am.”

“Well I don't know, I’ve never seen someone change what they look like except my dad.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah, he’s a Genie.”

“...”

“...You're not joking?”

“Nope. A Lightning Genie to be specific.”

“Insight Check... 11?”

“He seems to be pretty honest.”

“So you can grant wishes?”

“He could, not me. I’m only half genie, my other half is Human from my mom. Dad said my type of people are called Genasi.”

“Where’s you dad now?”

“He’s only allowed to stay in the material plane for 20 years at a time. He left on my 10th birthday, I’m 22, so he’ll be back in 8 years. Though he’ll probably see my mom before me.”

“... You know that is a really weird story right?”

“I actually didn't know until later in life. For a long time it was just the 3 of us, then the 2, now me.”

“I see.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You can change into other things, is it magic?”

Nias looked away not wanting to meet Zap’s eyes.

“It's not magic it's just something I’m able to do, as well as my mother and her mother before her. She said that we might be descended from Doppelgängers.”

“That's amazing.” Zap said with awe.

“Perception Check!” Ann yelled out.

“Zap doesn't lie. He's a open book.”

“19!”

“Zap really does think your amazing.”

“Geez he doesn't have to try so hard I already said I’d fuck him.”

“Excuse me! But Zap is a gentleman he doesn't only think about sex.”

“Unlike his player.”

#persona 5 #phantom thieves #joker persona 5 #persona 5 ryuji #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki #p5 yusuke #yusuke kitawaga #makoto niijima #haru okumaru #p5 akechi #morgana #dungeons and dungeons #changlings #genasi

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years

Text

just say yes

The latest installment of this verse... or 5 times Dean tries to propose to Cas.

Dean bites his lip as he scans the menu. What the hell is branzino, and where the fuck are the prices? He flips the flimsy piece of cream-colored paper over, but no dice.

Thank god there’s a steak listed among the five lone entrees. It’s probably five times his normal dinner price tag, but Dean already made peace with putting off buying that 30 year anniversary Rush album. It’ll still be there after his next pay check.

Cas eyes him over the top of his own menu. “What are you thinking?”

Marry me.

Dean doesn’t say that, though. He has plans. Keep his trap shut until dessert. Tell Cas he’s going to hit the head. Pull a waiter aside and ask for two glasses of champagne. Return to Cas. Hopefully not shit his pants as he proposes. Drink champagne. Go home and have fantastic engaged sex.

Dean has high hopes for the last part of the plan.

“Dean?”

Belatedly, he says, “The steak.”

Cas hums. “That does look good.” He ducks back behind his menu. “I was thinking of getting that too. But maybe not.”

Dean takes a hasty sip of water. “Get the steak if you want it, man. We don’t go to places like this often.”

“I think I’ll get the honey glazed salmon.”

“Sounds good,” Dean says lamely. He drinks more water. At this rate, he won’t have to fake the bathroom run.

Aren’t they supposed to have alcohol by this point? They’ve been sitting at their fancy-ass table in this fancy-ass restaurant for nearly fifteen minutes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have picked the newest five-star restaurant to propose to Cas. He’s already on edge from the pressure, and the pristine white tablecloth isn’t helping. He can already see five ways he’s gonna stain it. There are several forks in front of him. For fuck’s sake, this place has an actual chandelier. Dean hadn’t honestly thought they existed outside of billionaire mansions and Disney movies.

The live music is nice, though. A sedate piano tinkles in the background, barely audible over the buzz of polite dinner conversation.

Dean catches a glimpse of himself reflected in the dark windows to the street. He looks a little sweaty, but not as nervous as he feels, thank god.

This is stupid. He shouldn’t even be nervous.

They’ve talked about marriage before. They’re adults in an adult relationship, so popping the question out of the blue would go down like the time Dean swept Cas away for a surprise camping trip. Turns out, Cas did not like camping. Which Dean would have known if he had asked anytime in the past four years.

But… that marriage conversation was two years ago. Dean wasn’t ready then; they both weren’t. Cas was still in a bad place with Jimmy and Claire, and Bobby had just died, so they weren’t about to roadtrip to Vegas anytime soon.

Now, Claire can have a civil dinner with her parents, and the hole Bobby left in Dean’s life can go unnoticed some days.

The deal is, Dean can’t chicken out tonight. He already told Claire to make herself scarce. She can sleep at her parents’ or at Krissy’s, Dean doesn’t care, as long as she is not crashing on their sofa when they get back from dinner.

Dean would rather read a hundred plagarized student essays on The Very Hungry Caterpillar than admit to Claire he failed to ask Cas to marry him.

So, proposal time.

The waiter comes by with their drinks and takes their orders. Conversation is a little stilted, but hopefully Cas chalks it up to Dean being outside his comfort zone in this fancy-ass place. There’s no steady thunk of darts hitting a board or clack of pool balls in the background to put him at ease. Just that lame piano.

Cas makes porn noises over his salmon at first bite, which Dean totally doesn’t get. It’s fish.

“How’s your steak?” Cas asks as he surfaces and dabs his mouth with his cloth napkin.

Dean belatedly slices off a piece of his meal and pops it in his mouth. A generically bland compliment dies on his tongue. Jesus Christ - that’s some good cow. It practically disintegrates before he can chew. “Great,” he tells Cas honestly.

Cas hums in contentment.

“And since you’re practically at third base with that salmon,” Dean starts, “I take it-”

“Oh my god!” a woman’s voice squeals behind them.

Dean reflexively turns his head in the direction of the commotion. A few tables over, near the center of the restaurant, a man is down on one knee, and - son of a bitch.

Dean watches, his mouth hanging open, as the woman shouts, “Yes, of course, yes!” Waiters walk past their table with a whole fucking bottle of champagne. People at nearby tables fucking clap.

Dean resolutely turns back around to face Cas, at a loss for words that aren’t extremely loud swears.

“Isn’t that nice?” Cas says mildly.

“Yeah, very nice for them,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Of all the goddamn nights. Of all the goddamn restaurants. What are the goddamn chances?

Dean slices into his steak with extreme prejudice. If he could murder the happy couple, he would. With zero regrets.

Fuck it all, Claire’s gonna be insufferable.

A CHARMING B&B IN VERMONT

Dean wakes up delightfully cozy with Cas spooning him from behind. No memory foam, but the bed is delightfully springy anyway. It was definitely what they needed after a full school day and a nine-hour road trip. Luckily, the owner of the bed and breakfast, a charming older woman actually named Mrs. Butters, was happy to wait up for their late check-in last night. She even had hot cocoa waiting.

Dean had held out a slight hope they could christen their room before they turned in for the night, but Cas passed right out before Dean turned on the lights. Poor guy had to deal with three sets of angry parents, and it was only the second week of school. Something about how their supposed-genius kids should be in AP Latin instead of the Fun Latin class - aka the one for dumbass seniors.

The mid-morning sunlight filtering in from behind the plaid curtains casts everything in a warm glow. The room itself is beyond charming. There’s a legit fireplace next to the bed, and they’re currently nestled under a patchwork quilt. The wood panelled walls give a distinctly rustic feel to the place, despite the reasonably sized television screen mounted on the far wall.

Dean turns over in bed so he’s facing Cas instead of the door. He resists the urge to poke him awake, and instead prods with a gentle, “Cas.”

Cas grumbles wordlessly. Fucker doesn’t even open his eyes, although Dean can tell from how his breathing changes that he’s awake.

“Cas.”

Cas wrinkles his nose and shoves his face into the pillow. “What, Dean?”

Dean can barely make out the words, but he gets the gist from the million times Cas has done the exact same thing. “I smell bacon.”

Cas’s eyes slit open. “So?”

“Don’t you want bacon?”

Cas huffs, and Dean can tell the exact moment he resigns to waking up. “Then go get the bacon. Nobody’s stopping you, Meat Man.”

Dean wiggles in bed, jostling the whole mattress. “Come on, babe.”

“I was sleeping.” Cas raises his head to look squint out the window. “It has to be before ten am. Since when are you a morning person?”

Since today is the day Dean is going to propose.

Instead, Dean reminds him pointedly, “Bacon.”

“Ugh,” Cas groans as he sits up. “I expect at least a blow job after breakfast if we’re leaving bed this early.”

Dean slaps his ass and jumps out of bed before Cas can retaliate. “Up and at ‘em!”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Cas.”

* * *

Claire 11:02 Did you ask him yet? If he said no I’ve got chunky monkey waiting

Claire 11:31 That was a joke Uncle Cas will say yes Theres no way he wont

Claire 11:40 If you’re not answering because of sex don’t tell me

Dean sighs as his phone lights up with Claire’s latest text. In the bathroom, Cas hurls again.

Dean 11:41 No proposal

The bubbles showing Claire’s typing start almost immediately.

Claire 11:41 Are you serious? He’s not goin to turn you down!!!

Dean 11:41 Food poisoning

Claire 11:42 HAHAHAHA

Dean scowls at his phone.

Dean 11:44 Not now, Claire.

Claire 11:44 Wait Seriously?

Dean 11:44 We think it was something he ate at breakfast

Claire 11:44 Oh fuck I’m sorry for laughing

Dean rereads her text. He hasn’t ever received a straight-up apology from Claire before. Unsure of how to respond, he sets down his phone and gently pushes open the bathroom door. “How’re you doing, babe?”

Cas, slumped over the toilet and looking like death warmed over, raises his head an inch. “It seems to be easing up.”

“Really?”

Cas vomits into the toilet again. He groans.

“Shit,” Dean mutters as he crouches next to Cas. He rubs his back with one hand. “Do you think you can get some water down?”

Cas nods, so Dean straightens and fills a glass next to the sink.

As Cas drinks, Dean runs a hand through Cas’s sweaty hair. His forehead has a sickly sheen to it, and the back of his neck feels hot.

“Dean -” Cas breaks off to cough the water right back up into the toilet. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Dean says quickly as he refills the glass. “Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

“But you had all these plans,” Cas moans as he takes the water to try again.

“We’ll do ‘em some other time.” He wets a washcloth and wipes down Cas’s forehead.

“Before Thanksgiving,” Cas rasps, “we’ll come back. I don’t want to miss the leaves changing.”

“Of course,” Dean says soothingly. He moves the washcloth to the nape of Cas’s neck. “On the bright side, you’ve been puking for, like, an hour. There can’t be much left.”

Cas, the dramatic bastard, nearly brains himself on the toilet seat with the force of his next hurl.

HOMEMADE DINNER

After the disastrous fancy restaurant and B&B, a homemade dinner has to be the way to go. They’ll be in their own goddamn house - that has to cut down on the number of things that can go wrong.

Dean spends a whole week deliberating on what to make. He could do his usual burgers and fries routine, Cas’s favorite, but it should be special.

He settles on beef wellington. Pie for beef!

It’s a bitch to make - both because puff pastry from scratch is no joke, and hiding his first experiments from Cas means inventing increasingly convoluted reasons to get him out of the house. And, sure, every Youtube chef and Great British Bake off contestant has said store-bought puff pastry is fine, but Dean doesn’t want fine, he needs perfect.

Dean picks a day when Cas has Model UN afterschool. It’s in the middle of the week, but at least Cas is guaranteed out of the house until six at night.

By 5:58, Dean is ready. The Wellington is cooling on the counter; the red wine has been breathing (whatever the hell that does) for the better part of an hour; and he’s showered and made himself presentable.

His phone pings at six pm on the dot.

Heart sinking with foreboding, Dean taps the screen.

Cas 6:00 I’m going to be late for dinner. There was an accident with chemistry club a few minutes ago. The building had to be evacuated.

Dean 6:00 Are you OK?

Dean takes a moment to hammer the heel of his hand against his forehead. One fucking break. That’s all he’s asking for. One goddamn evening to go right.

Cas 6:00 Yes, and the kids are too. They’re airing out the halls now, but we won’t be let in for another half hour.

Dean picks up the wine with the hand not holding his phone.

Dean 6:01 What time do you think you’ll be home?

Cas 6:01 7:30 maybe? I’ll keep you updated.

Dean swigs back a gulp straight from the bottle before he can answer. Fuck this.

Dean 6:02 Great! I’ll order pizza when you’re on your way back

Cas 6:02 Meatlovers?

Dean 6:02 Unless you’d like something else

Cas 6:02 No thank you :)

Dean flips on a recorded Jeopardy! episode as he cleans up the kitchen and texts Charlie. He has a free dinner waiting for her if she can hightail it to his place in the next hour and never speak of it again.

HOMEMADE DINNER #2

If Dean is anything, he’s stubborn. John Winchester raised no quitter. Try, try, and try again. And try a fourth time, when the first three go sideways.

Burgers, this time. They don’t need a days’ worth of prep. And they’ll go over well.

“Dig in,” Dean says as he sets the plate down in front of Cas.

“This looks delicious, Dean,” Cas says sincerely as he picks up his burger.

Dean waits, and he can see the moment Cas tastes the molten cheese stuffed in the middle of the patty. His eyes go wide with surprise.

“Like it?”

Cas nods vigorously and inhales the rest of his burger in record time.

“There’s enough for us to have thirds,” Dean says smugly.

Cas smears ketchup all over patty number two, and beams at him. “These make me very happy.”

Dean laughs. “That’s the goal-”

Cas’s phone rings.

Dean falters.

Cas stares at him expectantly, waiting for Dean to continue.

“You should get that,” Dean says, his shoulders slumping as he sets his burger down. It’s probably a bad sign he was already half-expecting things to go south. “It’s probably important, or whoever it is would’ve texted.”

“We’re in the middle of dinner,” Cas protests even as he reaches in his pocket to pull his phone out. “It’s Claire,” he says, baffled, before he picks up. “Hello?”

Cas sets down his half-eaten burger. He listens, his brows slamming down forbiddingly as Claire’s voice gets louder and louder, but still not loud enough for Dean to make out actual words. Silently, Cas takes his napkin off his lap and pushes his half-empty beer in Dean’s direction. Finally Cas says, “Yes, of course, Claire.”

Dean frowns as Cas lifts his gaze up to meet his. “Jimmy and Amelia?” he mouths.

Cas shakes his head, speaking into his phone, “Does Kaia need a pick up from the hospital?”

Dean goes cold. Kaia was actually one of his favorite students. While she was in his class, she won a Scholastic Gold Key and honorable mention for two of her horror novellas and always did the reading. But Dean and Cas haven’t seen her since she broke up with Claire the summer before college.

“Is she okay?” Dean asks quietly.

Cas’s mouth thins. He gives a short nod.

Dean sighs and picks up the plate uneaten burgers. He can probably reheat the patties. The fries won’t keep, though, so he leaves the plate in front of Cas. He shoves a few in his mouth and gets to his feet.

He’s halfway through cleaning the frying pan when Cas gets off the phone with Claire.

“Are you heading out?” Dean asks gruffly while he gives the iron a particularly hard scrub.

“Yes,” Cas rumbles as he wraps an arm around Dean’s waist. “I’m sorry to cut dinner short.”

“Hey, it’s Kaia. ’Course we gotta help.” Dean forces an understanding smile on his face. “I’ll make up the couch while you pick her up?”

Cas squeezes him gently before moving away. “Thank you.”

“You got time for the cliff notes on what happened? Why’d you get the call?”

Cas leans against the counter next to the sink. “Kaia was in a car accident. She’s a little banged up, but mostly fine. A few bruised ribs and a possible concussion.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “You know Kaia was never especially close with her foster family, so Claire got the emergency call.”

“Huh.” Dean grabs a plate to clean. “It’s been two years since the split.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure what their situation is. I know Claire was surprised. She’s already in her car, and she should be here by midnight. Hopefully she recognizes Kaia’s injuries,” he frowns, “and they won’t try any… any ‘hanky panky’ tonight.”

Dean laughs, and if it’s slightly higher than normal, Cas doesn’t seem to pick up on it. He grabs Cas and kisses him square on the mouth. “You are ridiculous. Nobody says hanky panky. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Cas scowls. “They have to be well past kissing at this point.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, that ship has long sailed, dude.”

Cas throws his hands in the air. “We don’t have enough sleeping surfaces to separate them.”

Dean sets the dirty plate down to face Cas fully. “Do you really think they’ll get back together? Kaia broke Claire’s heart not too long ago.”

Cas throws him a look like he wonders where the hell Dean’s logical brain has flown to. “Are you asking if I think couples can get back together after a harrowing break up?”

“… no.”

Cas shakes his head ruefully. “You’re more like Claire than I ever was, and you took me back.”

“Huh,” Dean wipes his hands off on a dishtowel, “you might have something there.”

“You do call me the smart one,” Cas says as he pushes off the counter and heads to the doorway. “It has been known to happen.”

“Smartass,” Dean corrects loudly as Cas grabs his coat and keys.

“Semantics.” Cas doubles back to kiss Dean a proper goodbye, and it’s just as electric as it was when they were seventeen. Cas tastes like Dean’s cooking, and he’s been letting his stubble grow out, the short hairs rasping against Dean’s palm as he cups Cas’s cheek.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas says as he draws away.

Dean grins. “I know.”

Cas huffs an almost-laugh as he heads back towards the door. “Now who’s the smartass?”

IN BED

Cas, the son of a bitch, falls asleep before Dean can wring out a second orgasm out of him. Such a godamn shame. Just goes to show, they really aren’t teenagers anymore. At least Dean got to use the new vibrator he bought for the occasion and the edible panties.

Dean flops back in bed. Maybe he should put the proposals on pause. Clearly, marriage isn’t in the cards. He can be a bit dense when it comes to Cas and him, but there’s dense and there’s denial.

It’s been two and a half months. Five proposal attempts. They’re nearly halfway through October, and he’s no closer to getting a ring on Cas’s finger than he was in late August, sweating bullets in that stupid fancy restaurant.

He can’t keep planning and failing to propose to Cas every other week. One, he can’t handle the stress and constant brainstorming. And B, he’s way behind in writing college recommendations and grading his freshman’s essays on Animal Farm.

Cas isn’t going anywhere. Dean isn’t going anywhere. So Dean can cool the proposals for now and start fresh in January.

SCHOOL ASSEMBLY

“I hate these,” Dean mutters to Benny. He frowns across the top rows of the bleachers where the seniors are supposed to sit. There are a few notable faces missing, but nobody that belongs to Dean’s homeroom, so he couldn’t give less of a shit. Below them, sit most of the juniors, and pretty much all of the sophomores and freshmen.

“It’s thirty minutes, brother,” Benny says, patting his arm. “You’ll live.”

“Shows what you know,” Dean grumbles back as Jody strides to the middle of the gym, microphone in hand. He asks Benny, “Do you know what this one’s about? Bullying? Cliques? Hugs not drugs?”

Benny shakes his head.

Jody sighs loudly into the mike. Clearly, she wants to be here just as much as he does. “Thank you all for coming,” she starts like any of them had a real choice. “First things first, Halloween is in two days, and while costumes are allowed and encouraged, don’t be racist.” She grimaces. “God help me, I don’t know why I still have to say that. If you are unsure if your costume is racist, it probably is. Wear something else. Secondly…”

Dean tunes her out. Instead, he scans the bleachers again, this time looking for Cas. He should be with the other sophomore homeroom teachers, but there’s no sign of him. Dean frowns. He can’t remember the last time Cas played hooky. And never without Dean. Dick move, Cas.

Movement at the edge of the gym catches Dean’s eye, and he watches, puzzled, as two students roll out one of the old projectors. The overhead lights turn off.

Is Jody seriously going to make him sit through a slide show? They’re wasting a prefectly good Friday morning on a goddamn PowerPoint?

The projector flips on, and the first photo is… of Dean.

What the fuck? His mouth drops open in horror. In the picture, he’s in his junior year of high school - he can tell from the hair - with a bunch of people he hasn’t seen in fifteen years. Plus Cas, who’s at the next table over in the cafeteria, head bowed over a book and slightly out of focus.

There’s a click, and text scrawls along the bottom of the screen, Destiel Met in Edlund High School Fifteen Years Ago!

The projector flips to the next photo, this time showing Dean’s senior yearbook picture.

More than a handful of students peer excitedly in his direction, undoubtedly hoping for a reaction.

Scowling, Dean cranes his neck to search the crowd for Charlie’s flaming red hair. She’s the only one who refers to the two of them as “Destiel”. Everyone else uses their names like sane people.

But the projector clicks to a photo of Cas, and Dean can’t help getting distracted. In the picture, Cas is alone at a table in the library. God, he was cute back then. His cheeks were a little fuller, and his hair was curlier. He still had the same intense blue-eyed stare, though. Patented Cas.

It all started with a tutoring session. Young Mr. W needed help in Latin, and our future Latin teacher, Mr. N, was up to the task!

Dean is going to kill Charlie. He tries to get to his feet - maybe she’s hiding behind Jo or something. But Benny’s hand grips his upper arm, holding him in place. “Don’t,” Benny says softly.

“What?” Dean demands as he tries to shake Benny off and fails. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

“Stay.” The corners of Benny’s mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Watch.”

Dean huffs a breath and turns back around. If it was anyone else, Jo or Charlie, he wouldn’t trust a word out of their mouths. Benny, though, he’s not the type to make Dean sit through this without a good reason.

But that’s all ancient history. Destiel really got started five years ago, in this very gym.

The projector shows a picture of their class reunion, when Dean met Cas after ten years of no contact. They’re standing pretty close together (but that doesn’t mean much with Castiel What-Is-Personal-Space Novak), and they appear deep in conversation.

Since then, they have been inseparable.

Dean and Cas at a softball game. Dean and Cas at homecoming. Dean and Cas at GSA’s pride party.

Here’s to fifteen more years of Destiel!

The students clap and cheer with more than a few laughs.

Musical Interlude! flashes in front of a picture of Dean playing guitar to a group of pajama-clad students at last year’s Senior Lock-In.

The lights flip back on, and Dean blinks as his eyes adjust. By the time the spots have cleared from his vision, the projector has been wheeled away, leaving the main floor of the gym empty.

A staticky crackle echoes around the gym. And - is that Def Leppard playing on the speakers?

As the intro to Rock of Ages plays, the cheerleading team troops out from the locker rooms.

They start a routine Dean’s never seen before. To Rock of fucking Ages.

The cheerleaders sings along with Joe Elliot, “What do you want?”

Dean’s mouth falls open as the entire high school chants back, “I want rock and roll. Long live rock and roll!”

By the time they get to the “Rock of Ages” chant, all the students are on their feet, clapping along with the beat and cheering.

The song dies down soon after, and Dean, a broad smile on his face, turns to Benny. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I dig it.”

Benny laughs. “Good. He’ll be pleased.”

Dean’s just about to ask who he is (he’s 99% he knows), when Cas walks out from behind the bleachers.

Cas takes the microphone from Jody. He coughs nervously, waiting for the students to settle back down. “Thank you,” he says to the cheerleading team. “That was... awesome.” He glances up at the assembled students and teachers. “Dean-” he pauses as the cheers and clapping start up in earnest “-can you please come down here?”

But Dean’s frozen to the spot.

Benny gives him a not-so-light jab with his elbow. “Go on.”

Dean shakily gets to his feet and makes his way to the gym floor, and he swears his legs are about to give out from under him.

“Alright, you got my attention,” Dean says with forced bravado. “What’s up, Cas?”

The students hoot and holler.

Cas reddens as they die down again. Clutching the microphone in a death grip, he says, “Dean, we have been together for a number of years.”

Dean grins, a wonderful, all-consuming giddiness filling him the longer he stands in front of Cas. “I know, dude. I was there.”

The students laugh and someone, probably Jo, wolf whistles.

Cas swallows. “I wanted to do this here, where we first met, where you first asked me out on a date, where we had our first kiss.”

“Don’t tell ‘em about all our firsts on school property,” Dean says in a stage-whisper, “or Jody’s gonna have an aneurysm.”

Over a fresh round of student laughter, Jody puts her head in her hands. Donna, the school guidance counselor, pats her a few times on the back.

“Dean Winchester,” Cas says, and, shit, his hands are shaking. “I have loved you for more than half my life, and I look forward to far more than fifteen years by your side. Will you marry me?’

Dean’s not stupid. He had a strong hunch, ever since Rock of Ages played - aka the cassette he put in the Impala the first time he took Cas for a drive fifteen years and a lifetime ago - that this was what Cas was leading up to.

He’s mostly surprised Cas had the guts to pop the question this way. There was a reason Dean tried to keep his proposal plans mostly to the two of them. One of them is practically a social hermit, and it’s sure as shit not Dean.

“Just say yes, jerk!”

Dean spins around, nearly tripping over his own feet in surprise. Fuck, that’s Sam. His giant of a brother is hovering right outside the gym’s double doors, beaming at the pair of them. Claire gives a little wave from where she’s half-hiding behind him.

Dean turns back to Cas. He can’t think about Sam right now. Or Claire. Or the five hundred students with their eyes on them.

Only Cas.

“Cas,” he says, and it feels like the whole room is holding their collective breath, none more so than Cas, who looks like he’s about to pass out. “Man, I’ve loved you since I was seventeen. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Cas lets out a shaky exhale of relief, and Dean laughs. He takes the microphone from Cas’s now slack grip, steps all the way into Cas’s personal space, and kisses him.

The cheers from the assembled students are nearly deafening.

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #teacher dean #teachers au #teacher castiel #profoundnet #established relationship #fluff #the story of us verse #5+1 fic #rae writes fic

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onelonelymono · 3 years

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I wrote a fic about Wilbur's limbo because I love him <3

Theres no tws besides implied character death lol

Wilbur sat in limbo watching all the formless black blobs hustle from place to place, getting on the occasional train that came through but they’re few and far between. He was sitting on the floor, his newest form of solitaire laid out on the ground. For some reason he has those cards. He never figured out why in his, he looked at the crudely made calendar on the floor, 13 and a half years he's been in this personal hell. The edges were worn down from constant use, and some were ripped but he cherished these cards. Plus, he gods were kind enough to give him another card if he ever lost one. Once he destroyed the whole deck out of pure bodom, the gods gifted him a new deck the next day. Sometimes he sees the familiar faces of MD or Schlatt pass through but otherwise this place was the same.

About 11 years ago he ran down the infinite train station, just running. Getting on random trains that goes to yet another of the cloned terminals. He never did figure out if the areas were the same one over and over. Once he set down his set of cards and got on a train and when he reached in his pocket they were there. He did the same with his worn down coat, sweater, beanie, glasses, and shoes but they all ended up on the seat right next to him or his pocket. He stopped going on them often.

About 9 years ago Wilbur got on a train and it turned for once. That was exciting. ‘Pitiful’ he thought, once he realized that a train turning was exciting for him. The turn added nothing to his limbo but he assumes it's just the gods toying with him.

Roughly 7 years before he found a guitar and after re-teaching himself to play he wrote an album he called ‘Your City Gave Me Asthma’ he hated it so he threw the guitar in front of a train for fun. He still regrets doing that. A month after that he was gifted an electric guitar, he barely touches it but he did make 3 much more upbeat songs. He was working on a 4th but he got frustrated and gave up. He hasn’t touched his guitar since.

Around 5 years ago Tommy visited for a short amount of time. It was nice to have someone familiar but new in this hell hole. Tommy could phase through walls it seemed and that was a quality that Wilbur envied. They played competitive solitar for a while, MD and Schlatt joined once but they got bored and left. He rambled his thoughts to Tommy most of the time. Outlandish crazy things just to get his thoughts out. He also talked about more mundane things he saw in random magazines, books, and newspapers that showed up occasionally. He never could help looking at the bruises and blood that covered the boy, the scars in the limbo that showed how you died. He didn’t feel rude as Tommy looked at his scar more than he looked at his face. Wibur wondered if he was this dazed when he came into limbo. He figured he would find out ⎎ this was normal in about a year.

Wilbur never found out. Tommy was gone in three months. He missed him dearly. But it got him thinking. Revival is real. Tommy wasn’t lying. He sat and thought for days.

Took him nearly 10 years to realize how absolutely stupid self hated is. He had to use up a whole nother year unlearning his destructive habits and thoughts. He realized that if he is going to be revived he will need to live life to the fullest and self hatred wouldn’t help him do that. Plus even if he doesn’t get revived, he's gonna be in this damn limbo forever so he might as well spend it not boiling in self hatred. He knew it would take a while but at least he’s doing something.

13 and a half. After 13 and a half years. He sees a train pull in. A sobbing translucent version of him in it. The doors open and the ghost steps off and looks up at him, still crying, but when they lock eyes the ghost crumples to the floor. Wilbur is confused but steps on the train. Before he did he caught a glimpse of someone. Dream. He was being resurrected. He turned around and looked down at the sobbing spirit, still on the floor. His view of his alternate self was obscured by the doors of the train closing. He sat down, noticing the only things he had on him was his jacket with the pack of cards in the pocket. He knew if he was supposed to bring anything else it would appear next to him. Wilbur started to get tired for the first time in 13 and a half years and he decided to take advantage of it and layed down on the very uncomfortable plastic seats, he fell asleep faster than he ever did in life.

Wilbur opened his eyes. Everything was fuzzy and bright, even though it was night. Night? He blinked for a bit. He felt overwhelmed but numb. He sat up and looked around. Where the fuck is he? It smells heavily of gunpowder and dried blood. He was at an altar of some sort? It had the old lmanburg flag on it. It also had buttons on it, he pressed one but nothing happened. He chuckled. Then there was a noise to his right.

“Oh.” He said staring at the two very familiar faces and one he didn’t recognize.

“Oh no...” Tommy mumbled, his voice shaky

“Hello again.”

#i like how this came out #there was some math that went into this but not much #specifically about when tommy died #mcyt #dream smp #wilbur soot #wilbur soot fanfic #revivedbur #wilbur revival #resurrected wilbur #mcyt fanfic #dream smp fanfic #dsmp #dsmp fanfic

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7-wonders · 4 years

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As Above, So Below Ch. 23

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 2512

A/N: Hi friends! I do believe that this is the last chapter for AASB. Believe me, I’m just as sad as you, but this feels like a natural conclusion. And don’t worry, there will be another “book,” but this is the end of this one. Thank you all so much for sticking with me on this journey, and for giving me so much love and support.

Soft touches on your face serve as your alarm clock this morning, your mind and body waking up to the feeling of featherlight kisses all over your skin. Fluttering your eyes open, you smile when you meet a pair of adoring blue eyes twinkling back at you. Neither of you have left Michael’s chambers for the past two days, and you have to admit that being lavished with affection by the love of your life is something that you quickly got used to. You could honestly spend an eternity in bed with Michael, which is why it’s so easy for the days to slip away. This small vacation, unfortunately, must end.

“Good morning, darling mine,” Michael mutters against your lips, making you sigh contentedly as you lazily stroke his hair.

“This is certainly better than a traditional wake-up call.”

“Then I guess I shall have to wake you up like this every day.”

“Is that a promise?” You squeal with laughter when Michael’s hand brushes up your side, accidentally tickling you.

“Absolutely.” His hand continues to trail up the length of your body, eventually landing under a pillow as he searches for something. “I have a gift for you.”

“Michael, you’ve already given me so much,” you groan, still not used to the exorbitant gifts he’s fond of giving you.

“I’d give you all the stars in the sky, if I could. Just let me spoil you, alright?” You want to at least attempt to argue this point, but Michael makes it nearly impossible when every single touch conveys his undying love for you.

“Fine. What is it?”

Sitting up in bed, you let the blankets fall to your lap as you watch Michael fiind what he’s looking for and conceal it in his hand. His fingers fall open, allowing you to see the ring that’s sitting in his palm. It’s beautiful, with diamonds encrusted along the rose gold band. The top of the ring looks almost like a flower, and a large opal sits at the center. Light glints off of the stone, making it look as if it’s reflecting rainbows at you.

“Oh, Michael,” you trail, in awe of how stunning the ring is.

“I know that wedding rings are custom for mortal unions, and I wanted you to have a piece of your heritage.” He looks at you as he holds the ring between his fingers, waiting for you to nod before he slips it on your ring finger. “Hephaestus crafted the band from hellfire, and all of the gems are from Above.”

“Both of us are represented,” you grin at the realization, tearing your eyes away from the jewelry adorning your finger to beam at Michael. “I love it so much.”

“Do you really? Because we can always redesign it, if need be.”

You stop him from continuing that thought by kissing him. “It’s perfect, and everything I could have ever wanted in a ring.”

“Nothing could be as perfect as you, but I am glad that you think it comes close.”

“I love you,” you kiss him gratefully, “despite your horrendous one-liners.”

Michael slaps a hand over his chest to feign offense. “‘Horrendous?’ I happen to think that they’re clever.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” you tease, trailing off when Michael picks up your hand and begins to kiss the back of it before running a finger delicately around your new ring. “So...what now?”

“Elaborate for me, love.”

“When you proposed to me,”

“Which was mere days ago,” Michael interjects with a grin.

“You had mentioned that it wouldn’t be a traditional marriage or anything like that. So who decides we’re married? I’m assuming there’s no immortal justice of the peace or an Olympus records office we have to go to to fill out a marriage certificate.”

“That’s where the problem lies. Most other gods and goddesses have been married for thousands of years, or they just aren’t married at all. We’re quite the anomaly.”

You groan. “Why do we always have to be the first? Couldn’t somebody else have defeated Satan and gotten married before us?”

“I suppose all that really makes it official is Violet’s approval of our union, since she’s the goddess of marriage. However, I can’t help but feel that’s very anticlimactic, and not the sort of beginning to a marriage that you deserve.”

Although your knowledge of weddings isn’t very vast, it does allow you to come up with an idea that Michael just might approve of. “Do you know what eloping is?”

No matter how many times you’ve elaborated on the informality aspect of an elopement, Michael is endearingly (or annoyingly; you haven’t decided yet) persistent on the idea of following the traditions of mortal weddings. Thus, the garden that Michael created for you has been deemed the site for the ceremony. Madison, Zoe, and Thanatos are the only “guests” invited, although you did tell Desa that she was more than welcome to join the festivities. Violet will act as, for lack of a better word, the officiant for this affair. Michael had even tried to insist that the dress follow the white color scheme, which is ironic because he should know better than anyone that you’re not “pure” like the color symbolizes. You do settle for a cream-colored dress with a lace overlay that falls down to your ankles and forms to every curve and dip of your body.

You want nothing more than to get this over with so that you can just be married to Michael, but everyone’s extremely excited about the first wedding to be held in a few millennia. Where you would have thought your friends would back you up on Michael’s quirkiness when it comes to the ceremony that’s supposed to be impromptu, they’re more than happy to help Michael with fulfilling any of his ideas for the wedding. This includes the groom not seeing the bride prior to the marriage, which is the most difficult aspect of this whirlwind of a wedding.

“(Y/N), are you ready?” Madison asks, knocking on the door. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you do a quick check to make sure that everything is exactly how you want it to look.

“Yes, but I think the question is if Michael is ready?” Madison opens the door, gasping when she sees you. “Seriously, I thought the bride was supposed to be the difficult one, not the groom.”

“Oh, you look so beautiful,” Madison coos, her hands falling on your shoulders as she gazes at you. “You almost make me want to wear white.”

“The highest of compliments,” you note, grinning at her through the mirror.

“I know that I’ve known Michael a lot longer, but I swear that if he hurts you in the slightest way I will kill him multiple times, in a variety of equally painful ways, until you deem that he’s suffered enough.” It doesn’t sound like a nice thing in the slightest, but this is the closest to sentimental that Madison can get.

“That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me!” You let out a delighted shriek when Madison throws her arms around you, hugging you tightly.

“I just--I really…”

“It’s okay,” you nod. “I know, and I love you too.”

“Thank you for not making me say it,” Madison mutters into your shoulder.

“You’ll get there eventually.” You pull away from Madison’s embrace, stifling a laugh as she tries to reassume her stone-cold bitch demeanor. “How’s Michael? He hasn’t run away yet or anything?”

“If anything, we’ve had to keep him from breaking his own rule and coming in to see you.”

“Well, I guess we shouldn’t keep him waiting too much longer, then.”

Madison takes your hand, making sure she didn’t mess up your outfit before walking with you towards the garden. “Wait ten seconds after I walk out, and then you can go.”

“Why ten?”

“So that all the attention is rightfully on you,” Madison smirks, opening the doors and walking through the garden like she’s walking a catwalk at Paris Fashion Week.

Counting in your head, you try to sneak a glance at Michael before the moment comes for you to officially see each other. While you can’t see him, you do notice the beautiful job that your guests did at decorating the garden. Twinkling lights are everywhere, and the sky has been charmed with a sunset that looks as if it’s been painted up there. The flowers are in full bloom, with some of the larger plants blooming in such abundance that they create an aisle. When ten seconds pass, you take a deep breath and step outside.

You were never the type of girl to imagine your wedding growing up. In nursery school, when your classmates were playing wedding and house, you were more focused on building mini empires with Legos. As you got older and social media was factored into life, friends would have wedding Pinterest boards full of images of their idea of a “perfect” wedding. It was trivial, you believed, just girls conjuring a fantasyland. Besides, most of their weddings would be marred with ugly memories of fighting or divorce, and these ideas would just serve as a letdown.

Walking down the path to where Madison, Zoe, Thanatos, and Violet are gathered around your soon-to-be husband, you can see the appeal in the picture-perfect wedding. After all, this surely must be the affair that people have in mind when they think about their potential wedding. Seeing Michael standing mere feet away from you, exquisitely dressed in black and red with one of his expensive cloaks, is sheer perfection. He smiles when he lays his eyes on you, and you can see the breath leave his body as he gasps. You bite your lip, the intensity of his gaze spreading heat throughout your entire body.

“Hi,” you say shyly, taking his large hands as you face him.

“You’re the most divine being I’ve ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on,” he whispers reverently, like you’re the god instead of him.

“Hey lovebirds,” Madison chimes in, “you can undress each other with your eyes after this union has been blessed.”

“I’m sure we’ll be doing a lot more than that later, but thank you Madison,” Michael smirks as your eyes widen.

“Violet?” Your voice comes out as little more than a squeak, so you clear your throat and try again. “Are you ready to start?”

Violet’s glowing as she smiles at you, obviously thriving off of the marital excitement that hangs in the air. “Well, I’m extremely honored to be the one to oversee this marriage between two souls who are very dear to my heart. Before I get to blessing this union, I understand that Michael has some words he wants to say to his bride?”

You look at Michael in surprise; as far as you were aware, this was supposed to be a quick event.

“I apologize for not telling you that I was planning this, but then you would have come up with a speech of your own, and this is supposed to be about you.” You scrunch up your nose, not wanting to ruin his moment by interjecting. “For the entirety of my existence, I have been led to believe that I wasn’t capable of loving, or of being loved. I’m the God of the Dead, and I see the very worst of humanity. If I serve as the ‘Grim Reaper,’ why should I have people who love me? It was an assumption that I fought against for a long time, but you eventually begin to believe what people constantly tell you over long periods of time.

“All I had ever known was death, anger, and darkness. But then I met you, and you immediately brought color to my world. That color may have been your colorful language as you cursed out the grocery bags you were carrying, but it was color nonetheless. From the very beginning, you’ve captivated me every time I had the pleasure of laying my eyes on you. You’re intoxicating, a drug that I’m addicted to and have no intention of quitting. Getting to know you and love you has been one of the greatest pleasures of my life, which has been very long.”

You attempt to release one of your hands from Michael’s grasp so you can wipe away the tears that you can feel flowing down your face, but Michael beats you to it and uses his thumb to get rid of the tears. “These are happy tears, I promise,” you say with a laugh upon seeing a concerned look on his face.

“Good.” He kisses the back of your hand before picking up where he left off. “I could go on about all of the different ways that I love you, and though we now have all the time in the world for me to do so, I won’t bore those who would become an unwilling audience. For now, I will say that you are not my other half, for there wasn’t just a piece of me missing without you. You are the entirety of my soul. I’m not sure how I managed to function before you, and I know for certain that I would not be able to live if I were to be without you. I absolutely adore you, (Y/N). I love you more than I ever dreamed it was possible to love another thing, and I am so utterly thrilled that you have chosen me to be yours.”

“I love you,” you say earnestly, surging forward to kiss him. When you’re stopped by a hand on your shoulder, you groan.

“Sorry, but you have to wait just a little bit longer before you can kiss your groom,” Violet says with a laugh.

“You people live to make me miserable,” you mutter.

“Well then, we better hurry this up, huh?” Violet’s eyes twinkle with mirth. “As the goddess of marriage, I, Hera, hereby bless the union between (Y/N) and my brother, Hades. May your marriage be full of love, laughter, and prosperity until the end of time.”

“Go ahead and kiss!” Zoe calls out, nearly bouncing on her toes in excitement.

Michael looks at you with a devious smirk, grabbing you before you can even begin to question what he’s scheming. He dips your body until you’re almost parallel to the ground, surging down to meet you with a searing kiss. Whoops and hollers sound from around you, but all you can focus on is the feeling of your husband pressed up against you.

“Wow,” you say breathlessly when he finally releases you, “that just might top every other kiss we’ve ever shared.”

Michael laughs heartily, the sound bringing pure joy to your heart, as he kisses you again, this time more chastely. “I love you.”

“I love you too, husband.”

Standing in the middle of your garden, newly married and basking in wedded bliss, the God of the Dead has never felt so alive.

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon imagines #michael langdon x reader #american horror story #american horror story imagines #american horror story imagine #american horror story #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs imagines #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse imagine #michael langdon au #hades and persephone au

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