Hello, I love your writing! 🌸💞
Maybe 31 with Thomastair if you'd like?
Hi anon and thank you! 🌼 I can't remember when you sent this ask, perhaps in winter. I'm sorry for this long wait, but I haven't feeling too inspired for a while. Now I think I'm back and I hope you like this fluffy fic!
Prompt: “I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.”
Ship/Characters: Thomastair, Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs
The sound of something hitting the floor wakes Alastair. Then someone sighs heavily, and new noises invade the room. He’s disoriented for a moment. Is it music? The lights are dim but he realizes that it isn’t night. No, the grandfather clock on the wall signs a little past two in the afternoon. He jerks his head too hard, noticing that the blinds are drawn, and feels pain in his neck. He’s sitting on an armchair, a velvet armchair that might have looked comfortable to sit down to read, but not to sleep on. Somebody's watching him from the other piece of furniture of the small apartment. He flinches. Then his eyes adjust to the new colors of the room, and he recognizes the other person. He tries to hide his surprise and joy, but he’s sure they’re seeping through his face. He doesn’t need to hide anything.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Thomas apologizes. Alastair wants to tell him that he shouldn’t. He sat down on that armchair because he was thinking about what he was doing in another town, wishing he would be quick and return so he would not feel alone.
But he doesn’t.
“You mean the music?” Alastair wonders instead, frowning and scratching the back of his shoulders. They are stiff. Ah, sitting on that armchair was a bad idea, and now he didn’t want Thomas to believe that he was uncomfortable and that he needed help.
Thomas’ eyes glance at Alastair’s hand, and he stands up, coming towards him as he speaks. “It was meant to be a surprise, but I stumbled on something on the carpet,” he rolls his eyes. “I woke you up.”
“I would have woken up sooner if I knew you were coming,” Alastair says, biting his lip. “And prepared… well, something.”
“I don’t need anything,” confesses Thomas, moving behind the armchair. “While you look like you need a massage,” he suggests. He doesn’t wait for Alastair’s reply and he just starts moving his hands behind his neck.
Alastair is about to say that it’s not true that he needs that, and that he is fine on his own, with his neck hurting because of the damn armchair. But he doesn’t. The truth is that he loves when Thomas does that. Not just the massage he’s doing right now. Anything. He’s one to keep things to himself. He’s been like that for his whole life, and it’s hard to unlearn pretending to be okay, not to need things. Thomas was good at seeing through the cracks, and Alastair decided to let him take care of his neck. He closes his eyes as Thomas’ fingers work their magic. Really, he’s just pressing his fingers, Alastair -
“I want to dance,” Alastair says out of the blue, while Thomas’ hands still graze his neck. A jolt runs through his spine. “Please, don’t stop,” he begs, not feeling his partner’s fingers anymore. The back of his neck is suddenly cold.
Thomas laughs, but he still doesn’t continue. “You’re greedy,” he teases, his mouth close to Alastair’s ear. Another thrill shakes his shoulders, making the hair behind his neck stand up. Aching for more.
This is how you make me feel, Thomas Lightwood. Like I’m on the top of a cliff and jumping in the water is my only escape. I’m afraid of the heights, but I would leap into the sea and face my fear, if you hold my hand.
Alastair grins, and gazes up at Thomas. “You’ve been in Paris for a week. I deserve to be greedy.” He stands up, ignoring that he has revealed too much; has been too forward. Their relationship is young, there are still many things they have to tell each other, but there isn’t a guide on how to be with someone, nor a right time where you can be forward with your feelings.
Thomas is already offering his hand, and Alastair doesn’t hesitate when he takes it, interlacing his fingers with his. The music playing is a waltz, but they are not following it. They are out of tune, but none of them complains. They’re going at their pace. Like always.
“It feels like a dream,” Alastair whispers, gazing up at the man he loves.
Thomas grins, his whole face lights up. He is blushing. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I knew you would love this sound.”
“I didn’t mean the music,” Alastair sighs, holding Thomas’ stare. Almost stopping because those hazel eyes distract him. “I mean this.”
Thomas nods, and chuckles. He looks away, almost embarrassed like Alastair used to be a few minutes ago when he woke him up from his sleep. “I regret to inform you that this is not a dream. This is real. We are real. And I’m yours, in every way you’ll have me.”
“There’s no need to remind me,” Alastair says, his heart is about to jump out of his chest. “I am not possessive by any means. Though I’d make an exception for you.” He doesn’t stop staring at Thomas, and winks. He has the urge to see his reaction. He is curious, even though he knows that Thomas hasn’t shown anything but affection for him ever since they started. And, most importantly, Thomas didn’t treat him as a secret. On the other hand, he granted Alastair what he never dared to believe someone would ever do for him. He put him first.
It happened during one of the mundane events Alastair disliked so much but had to attend out of courtesy, a few days after he agreed to get to know Thomas better. To see if they would last. They still weren’t officially together, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t scared, for he feared history would repeat itself. He had to tread lightly.
Alastair thought that something was off when he saw Thomas wait for him outside of the venue. He had come alone, so he didn’t have to invent excuses. When Alastair saw Thomas’ serious stare, he thought: this is it. We’re done. He made his hands into fists as he climbed the stairs. People were passing by, but he could only stare at Thomas as he felt a void in his stomach, and he hadn’t even eaten anything.
“I need to tell you something, and it can’t wait.”
Those were Thomas’ words. Alastair stilled, trying to keep his expression neutral, and nodded. What else could he do? Maybe he should stop being such a pessimist?
They went into a private room, and Thomas sighed audibly after closing the door. “I can’t wait anymore. I’m sick of waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“To tell everyone that you’re mine,” Thomas said, and shook his head, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound possessive.”
“I understand what you mean,” Alastair replied.
“And what do you say?”
“About being possessive?”
“The first thing,” Thomas managed a tiny smile. “Tell everyone.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? Even though my friends still don’t know the truth, and only my sister and Lucie know,” he explained. “I don’t want you to be my secret.”
“I don’t want to be your secret either, Thomas,” Alastair murmured, and it was as if saying it out loud had freed him. He felt lighter. “If we have to stay together, we -” he sighed. “I don’t want to hide.”
“I don’t want to hide either,” Thomas answered, opening the door. “That’s why, if you agree, I suggest we enter the ballroom together. Hand in hand.”
“I never thought you were so reckless, Thomas Lightwood,” he said, offering his arm.
“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
“Believe me, I intend to find out,” Alastair smirked.
Thomas smiled. “Likewise.”
That was the first time they danced together.
“Well, I am,” Thomas tells him in the present, his voice rises to make a point, and his hand grips the back of Alastair’s jacket. Alastair is beside himself, and the only thing he can do is reach out to Thomas’ lips to let him know how he feels about that.
Taglist (if you want to be added or removed, send me a PM): @princesslucinda @kit-12 @immortal-enemies @lucian-evander @esa-emery @danieldyers @blackthorn-trash @rinadragomir @fortunesandfables @itsdaughterofthemoon @silvenys@thomastair3 @livvyheronstairs @ holding-infinity-and-a-book @lovelaces @axoloteca @autumnangel20 @cordelia-cardale @lucie-blackthorns @thephcastcouldsteponme-please
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