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moonchildsaurora · 4 years

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La Valse de L’éternité

✤ prince!Seonghwa x fem!reader ✤ genre: royal!AU // bittersweet (of fluff to angst) ✤ t/w: sfw, slight mentions of death might need some tissues for the end?, rated PG ✤ count: 1.8k+

a/n - sorry this is late, but coming out of my hermit cave to finally write an actual one-shot for @daybreakx writing challenge #3. What started out as a mini scenario turned into a mini story instead, and now I just need to lie on the floor for a week (guess that’s what happens when you dive back right into writing after years of hiatus). I hope you guys enjoy it and please feel free to give feedback 💙

“Hello my love.”

The timbre of his voice weaved in harmony with the orchestral symphony that filled the magnificent ballroom.

“Well don’t you look dashing, my prince.”

The hand that held your own was as gentle as the adoring gaze he had on you. “The night has only just begun and already you’re enticing me with such flattery.” Before bowing slightly, full lips gracing the back of your hand peppering the surface with soft kisses.

“Were my own words back then so profound that you just had to re-use them?” you replied with a teasing counter-attack and a chaste peck on his cheek.

“In all honesty though, you’d put Aphrodite to shame.”

“And you accuse me of using flattery, have you no shame Seonghwa?”

Pulling you flush against his chest by your waist, “For you I’d risk dignity and all,” he murmured and took a moment to lean his forehead against yours. Then and there, you both allowed yourselves to get lost in each other.

Only when the sounds of strings and woodwinds along with echoes of conversations from below floated back up to your ears did Seonghwa prompt, “Shall we?”

This wasn’t the first time he guided you down the Grand Staircase and still, the view never cease to leave you in awe. Stoic marble columns stood tall with regal history carved into them, holding up the masterpiece of a ceiling above where the paintings were witnesses to the happenings on the white gold marble floors. Crystal chandeliers and torchères bathed the room with a delicate glow.

You noticed the balustrades were adorned with lush flower arrangements of varying colours. The last time you saw such extravagant decorations was for your royal engagement to Seonghwa.

The floral aroma was prominent and filled your senses pleasantly. Yet there was a faint underlying scent that seemed slightly out of place.

Before you could put any further thought into it, an announcement was made to alert the guests of your presence. Already parting a way to the centre of the ballroom, Seonghwa and you turned to greet them as you both walked by.

Oddly enough there weren’t any familiar faces amongst the crowd. “Were our parents not attending the ball tonight?”

“They are probably at the tables already, discussing plans for our ceremony which will most likely be sprung upon us by tomorrow morning. You know how exuberant my mother is when it comes to weddings.”

A soft laugh left your lips at the sweet reminder; in exactly two weeks you’d be walking down a very different kind of aisle. Your eyes glanced down at the blue sapphire that sits proudly on your ring finger. The same shade of blue that your gown of fine chiffon silk was made in and the trims that complemented Seonghwa’s royal ivory suit.

“Will you do me the honour of having this dance with me, milady?”

Sheer willpower prevented you from rolling your eyes at his youthful playfulness, after all it’s a charming point of his. Instead deciding to indulge your prince by playing along.

With a dramatic curtsy, you accepted.

The maestro gave two loud taps of his baton and a new waltz begun.

Seonghwa and you glided across the floor, letting your feet step in duet with the melody. You’ve felt like you have heard this tune before, but once again your mind cannot seem to settle on a precise answer.

Don’t go looking, please.

“Pardon?”

“Something the matter, love?” asked Seonghwa, brows slightly furrowing at your sudden question.

“Oh, I thought you said something just then.”

Spinning out and coming back in to Seonghwa’s arms, the skirt of your gown billowing effortlessly as it followed your movement. You tilted your head slightly as you looked up to Seonghwa, awaiting for a reply.

“Are you sure you weren’t eavesdropping on our guests?”

“How dare-!”

Another spin and with a careful dip, he bent forward to kiss on the hollow of your neck. “I know, I was jesting.”

You shivered with delight and brought a hand up to caress the side of his face. Naturally, Seonghwa turned towards your touch. Eyes closing with content and letting a subtle nuzzle into the palm of your hand. Not minding one bit that his arms’ strength was being tested for holding you securely in that dip.

“You are awfully affectionate tonight,” you said in a hushed tone.

“Can’t a prince openly cherish his beloved in front of others?”

When he brought you back up, your hand reached up further to brush his dark fringe out of his eyes. Smiling tenderly back at him, you continued on with the dance.

It wasn’t until your priority shifted to those decadent couverture truffles sitting so innocently on one of many banquet stands that you managed to convince Seonghwa to take a break.

You could hear him chuckling behind as you hurriedly led him over, not wanting to miss out on your favourite treats.

“I’ll be right back, there’s been talk that the new batch of spring wine goes exceptionally well with sweets. Please try to save some for me!” he said giving your hand a light squeeze before walking off.

“No promises!”

Making sure that you picked a few of the strawberry truffles, just for him, you couldn’t help but sneak a bite first. What you didn’t expect was the harsh taste of ash to hit the back of your throat. It drew out a coughing fit, causing you to drop the plate.

The scent from before wafted back with vengeance. Smoke. That was what clashed with the comforting florals and now, it stung overwhelmingly.

You desperately tried to speak but the coughs were relentless. Did any of the guests nearby even notice your distress?

Seonghwa, you needed him.

Come back, come back.

Trying not to fall into further panic, you blindingly reached out to grab onto anything to help get your bearings. Your arms painfully knocked against cold marble. Turning to look, you were faced with one of the exquisite torchère. It wasn’t the sculptured maiden that your eyes were drawn to, but rather the candles she held up.

The air around you started to feel suffocating and the candles’ flickering flames beckoned an uneasiness from the depths of your mind. A sudden flash came across your vision, causing you to wince and shut your eyes tight.

Your Highness, you can’t–

Let me go through!

That voice, you know that voice. But why does he sound like that?

–it’s too dangerous! You’d suffocate from the smoke…

A searing pain cut through your entire being.

I will not abandon–

–still in there! I have to save–

The fire would’ve kil–

Anguish. Pure raw anguish. It hurt, to hear Seonghwa screaming your name over and over with such hopelessness. You forced your eyes to open with a gasp, acutely aware of how hot your surroundings had become. What had been small flames before, now was an inferno blazing all around. The stairs were burnt ruins and the flowers were no more.

A nightmare – this all had to be a nightmare. “Seonghwa!” your voice cracking as you called out for him, feet stumbling away from the scorching heat.

“Seonghwa, where are y– “

Arms encircled and turned you around with haste. “Look at me, I’m right here, look…” fingers brushing away tears that you didn’t know were falling until now.

“W-What’s happening? Why…I don’t understand”

Seonghwa’s presence have always been a safe haven, a constant calm. The moment he held your trembling frame close, it eased the chaos both inside and out that little bit more. You could still feel the firestorm against your back but he didn’t allow your eyes to waver from him. There were conflicting emotions running across him as he looked right at you; as if you would disappear if he were to even blink.

The way he spoke your name next crushed your heart. Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck and all you could hear was the same repeated phrase against your ear.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

You tried to move your arms to wrap around him, wanting nothing more than to comfort your dearest prince and cry out that there was nothing to forgive him about. So many questions left unanswered.

“Seonghwa, my dear Seonghwa, what is going on?”

His grip tightened around you, a deep breath drawn in and then exhaled. Holding your face with his hands, he pressed his forehead against yours just like before. “Always remember…” he said so softly, for these words were only for you to hear.

“…no matter how many lifetimes we have, even if they were short-lived, I will love you and will never stop loving you.”

Coldness came, spreading throughout from the inside. Your mind coming unhinged as fractured memories poured in all at once. Memories that weren’t meant to be remembered, for now you know that Seonghwa had lost you before. To burning smoke and ash.

“You are my eternity.”

He brought your lips together and all you felt was the touch of his sweet warmth before the darkness claimed you in the inevitable fall.

Each step you took echoed the hallways, your velvet slipper-clad feet sprinted across the granite marble floor whilst you fiddled to secure the blue sapphire on your finger. Cursing under your breath, thankfully your mother wasn’t around to tell you off, for waking up late. You had plans with your betrothed today, starting with your morning garden walk that you’ve never once missed. It was a special routine between you both, before duty called.

As you rushed down the first flight of the Grand Staircase, you almost missed the figure standing in the middle of the landing. Dressed in your favourite colour shade, he was faced in the opposite direction. From your viewpoint you couldn’t really see what he was doing or whether he was simply awaiting for your arrival and checking his watch.

“Seonghwa, I’m so sorry for my tardiness, my prince!” your heart beating a tad faster as you approached him.

Had you paid closer attention, you might have noticed how rigid his body went for a split second upon hearing your voice or how swiftly he brought his hand up to wipe away stray tears from his eyes. In blissful ignorance, you knew not of the way he clutched the pieces of himself together. Silently begging that perhaps this time, you will remain for a while longer in this sanctuary that he’s created for you.

The mark that engraved over where his heart was, a symbol of what he willingly gave just so your soul wouldn’t have to drift through limbo alone, stayed hidden.

Turning around to greet you with a genuine smile and adoration, he held out his hands for you to take so he could once again guide you down those same stairs.

“Hello my love.”

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bibbykins · 5 years

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Scopophilic Affection (M)

Here it is! At last! I have had a rough couple of weeks. My roommate left me and my gf with the rest of the rent without any notice (yikes, I know. Kids, don’t break the lease, it’s shitty) soooo I’m going to plug my ko-fi below. Anything helps and would be greatly appreciated. Either way, donation or not, I hope you thoroughly enjoy and know that my ask box is open!

Genre: Smut/Fluff

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: Voyeurism, choking, obsessives themes, yandere

Summary: Scopophilia is a more dignified way to define voyeurism, something Seokjin had no intention of partaking in until he came across your live stream. Seokjin is a dignified man, but never in his life had he felt so depraved watching you smile and work like it was his profession, unable to reach through the screen and make you his. Unable to tell you how much he loves to watch you because you have no idea you’re live stream even exists. He can’t tell you how hypnotizing you are without the glaring controversy of him watching your hacked-into webcam, both as a human and director in the computer science division of the company he is a board member of. Nevertheless, you were his very guilty utmost pleasure.

A beige wall with the blandest accents he’s ever seen with a sketchy cream color. The kitchen appliances were conformity white with rust whispering its way out from under the oven. The toaster was melted on one side and he couldn’t help but wonder how. The microwave was in slightly better shape but the stains seemed to still hold the screams of food from the 1990s. The carpet was somewhere between the beige walls and the mahogany table and looked about as comfortable as sandpaper.

This would not do at all.

Even with the personality shining through the subpar living space, it was just not suitable. Not for much longer.

Jin was a man of exquisite taste. This, among his impeccable beauty and breathtaking aura, was some of his best-known traits. He was the sweetest dream everyone on campus would ever have the privilege to even catch a moment of. He was the Director of Software Development within the largest tech company in the country. He came from money and yet made more than enough of his own all while juggling graduate school. Beyond his professional talents, he was a natural virtuoso and musician. With fans from all sides of his life, it would come to no shock that he was a picky man.

Ever the kindest member of the campus princes, he opted for an aura of stoic professionalism. He exchanged pleasantries and engaged in his fair share of banter with people beyond his close-knit group of Adonis-like men. However, he had a strict limit on how much he could take of people he didn’t care about.

He had everything he wanted and it was nearing time for him broaden his capacity beyond his close family and six friends by just one person. The pool was exceptionally lengthy considering his father’s very own Cinderella story and his parents’ overall good nature. And yet, nobody was fit to be his. Nobody he met even gave him anything to think about beyond their pleasantries. He would not settle for good enough, they had to be perfect. They had to be someone entertaining, someone, without such an evident facade, and even then, someone worthwhile behind that facade. Maybe he had trust issues, or maybe he knew how much one could hide in public.

While a man of exquisite taste, it was also… particular to say the least. Kim Seokjin was not built to marry these nice girls his parents set him up with from time to time, he was built for someone much greater. He had a taste for the more sinister sides that he seldom was able to properly explore with others. Kinky is a word one could use, but he believed adventurous encapsulated his preferences more eloquently. He took pleasure in spoiling someone with all he could offer as they spoiled him with their body. Empty hands begin to ache after some time. He was longing for something to grip other than himself on more irritable nights. He had found previous sexual partners who suited him just fine until they stepped out of the threshold from the bedroom. Vice versa, he had also been on perfectly good dates but with terribly bland sex.

It was on one of the nights after a mind-numbing date that he threw himself into work whilst listening to the background noise of tech reports. All was fine until there was talk of a hard to reach website that allowed patrons paid access to people who “consented” to 24-hour streams of their lives via laptop and the highest payer owns who can view that particular person. Call it morbid curiosity or his voyeuristic side making an appearance, Jin found himself on the website with ease and scrolling past a ton of stranger’s faces. The teaser clips showed thirty seconds of the past day.

Jin doubted the website would be up for much longer due to its legal gray area of filming people without informed consent. It seemed the website operated on a one-click user agreement to a couple of separate websites they controlled. It didn’t take a genius to see these people had no idea of their streams. On each profile, it had general demographics, the times that person was in frame, if they ever changed on camera, and even if they performed sexual acts for an audience they had no idea about. Jin felt some remorse as he scrolled from victim to victim, but something happened when he came across a bland beige wall behind an interesting girl.

Sure, he had seen many beautiful women but none of them were shown sitting in front of the camera and so adorably pouting at the camera for the entire thirty-second clip, occasional huffs of irritation coming from your plush lips. It awoke some kind of curiosity he could not understand but wanted to satiate. Were you reading emails? Had you gotten a bad grade? Were you watching a frustrating film? It seemed you were a college student but spent your nights at home. He figured you worked full time while not at school and used that as an explanation for your socially inactive life but deprived sleep schedule. Against his better judgment, Jin gained full reign over your stream, making it exclusively for him.

He never quite cared for sharing.

Just like that, there you were, in a large shirt and shorts as you stared at the laptop with a blank face. It went on like this and Jin began to feel silly that he made such a rash move to violate your privacy like this, not to mention the fact that he spent such a grandiose amount of money just to stare at a girl. This was obviously a mistake. He should just turn off his computer- you began to laugh and just like that, Jin was enchanted. Maybe it was the fact that you laughed so wholeheartedly despite being alone or just that you were your true self at this very moment. He had unrestricted access to you like this. He wondered what you were watching. Against his better judgment, he wondered if he could make you laugh like that.

Your phone rang, making you jump ever so slightly. Jin smiled at this, noting how easily startled you were and the way your eyes looked so kind after being broken from the trance your laptop had you in. He found himself holding his breath as you pressed the phone to your ear, waiting to hear how you sound, “Hello?”

You paused the movie you had been watching as you waited for your cousin’s girlfriend, Jaelin, to speak, “Y/n! Where are you?!” The background was loud and she was evidently drunk.

You rolled your eyes, “At home, where else?” This was a common occurrence, and usually, you would not entertain her drunk-dials, but you figured hearing another human’s voice today wouldn’t hurt.

“You should meet me! There’s a ton of parties tonight!” She screamed and you flinched at the volume her mic had to endure.

“I have this screenplay to annotate and I’m leading the stage tricks seminar in a week to practice so…” You trailed off, holding up your finished and annotated screenplay before shrugging.

“People are going to that? Seriously?” You stood corrected by yourself as a sting hit your confidence. This human’s voice was indeed beginning to hurt you.

“Professor Tarbot is having the freshman attend it so, yes, people are going to my seminar, so…” You trailed off as you heard your cousin’s voice in the background, reminding Jaelin that you don’t need to go out before the call went dead, “Lovely.” You muttered before pressing play on the movie. You were always the black sheep of the family. If familial love was kickball, you were absolutely picked last. Despite this, when you moved out as soon as you could to pursue your dreams, your family was appalled that you would leave your own flesh and blood.

Your smile noticeably died with the phone call and Jin couldn’t help but wonder what exactly happened. He missed your smile already. You looked down at your phone for a while before your lip begin to quiver ever so slightly and Jin felt his stomach churn.

“No, no, no.” You fanned your face before looking to the ceiling, “None of that, crybaby.” You cursed before sighing out and looking forward again, “Work on the seminar.”

So, you were a fine arts major of some sort. Jin thought about this as he watched you get ready for bed and eventually fall asleep in front of the laptop you took everywhere. By the end of the night, he had just about a full apartment tour. He shook off this new feeling in his chest before closing his laptop.

The week went on with Jin’s and your nightly routine remaining the same. He did his work, brushed his teeth, and went to bed. Except, he had you playing in the background. You, on the other hand, would write, procrastinate, brush your teeth in the messiest way, and return to either schoolwork or some show before falling asleep, usually at your desk or on your bed in front of your computer.

He certainly was not proud of how you would excite him in ways other women just… couldn’t. It was on one of his more irritable nights that he focused all of his attention on you. You were just watching a movie, nothing too crazy. Even so, Jin’s skin was set ablaze at the way your floral underwear was poking out as you sat on your bed with your knees up. Without fully realizing it, he began palming himself through his sweatpants.

He groaned out as you spread your knees to sit more comfortably. You leaned back and he could almost make out what your sex looked like. Your underwear was thin, so thin. You would surely soak through them if you let him have you.

“Y/n.” He breathed through clenched teeth as you stretched. You were goggling a little at the movie, taunting him almost. He cursed as his hand sped up, “Fuck, baby.” He moaned and when you simply gasped at something Jin could not see with his eyes screwed shut as he chased his high, he went over the edge. He moaned your name out like a disciple to his savior, like you were his light at the end of it all. The experience itself was nothing less than religious and an absolute breakthrough that Jin had been trying to avoid for a long time.

From then on, Jin had been watching you under a new lens. You were no longer a morbid curiosity of his, you were the object of all this affection he never felt such an immense need to release.

“What’s up, Jae?” You answered the phone after brushing your teeth, putting her on speaker, “A little early to be drinking, no?”

“Y/n, did you hear about the ArtCast scandal?!” You jumped at her volume as you applied your skincare products.

“ArtCast? I haven’t used the site since I signed up, what happened?” Jin tensed, already knowing what the female on the phone call meant.

“Get a new laptop, now!” Jaelin screeched and you looked at your phone with bewilderment, “They have been sharing user info and hacked into laptop cams for creeps to watch on the dark web!”

Jin hardly considered himself a creep. His actions were creepy, but he was not a creep, just a curious soul. He fought the urge to try and reason with you by finding your contact information. Although the idea was scrapped since that would certainly not help his case.

You rolled your eyes at this, “I doubt anyone wants to see me laze around and edit-”

“THIS IS SERIOUS!” You flinched at this.

“And I seriously don’t have any money to get a whole new laptop and I kinda need my webcam for work so,” You looked dead at the camera, eyes boring into Seokjin’s form, “Hi Mr. Laptop Man, if you have some spare money my PayPal is-”

“WHY DON’T YOU ASK YOUR FAMILY? I’M NOT KIDDING.”

Your eye twitched, “Don’t yell at me.” You seethed, “If they won’t pay for my school or even a meal, what makes you think they would buy me a laptop?” The pain was terribly evident on your face and your lip quivered, “Face it, Jae, you took my place and you feel bad, so that’s the only reason you even talk to me.”

“Y/n…” Her voice was softer this time and Jin watched a tear fall down your face and felt his heart clench. He didn’t care who your family was, all you would need is him soon enough.

“And I appreciate it, even if it is pity-based, but don’t pretend like they care about me.” You huffed, wiping your tears, “Mr. Laptop Man must think I’m so dumb.” You scoffed and Jin noticed the way your features twisted from anger to pain and melancholy. There was evidently some deep-rooted pain when it came to your family

You were isolated from them. This past week, Jin gathered that you were eccentric and not afraid to make a fool of yourself or put yourself out there. He now understood it was because your family must have degraded you to such a degree, you eventually began to take it in stride.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to…”

You frowned as Jin wondered why you felt any remorse for this person, “No, I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.” You sighed and glanced at yourself in the mirror and poked at your eye bags, “I’ll catch you later, okay?” You closed your eyes, “Have fun on the trip. Give everyone a hug for me.”

“You could come-”

You clenched your fists against the counter, “Jae… don’t.” You breathed, “I’ll talk to you later.” You quipped before hanging up the phone, “Ugh, I probably sounded like such a bitch.” You combed your fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots slightly before closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Your fingers slowly uncurled themselves and you robotically placed them at your sides, “No, none of that.”

It was evident that was a coping mechanism, a way to express your pain and insecurity. He imagined it was more than likely much worse before. This made his fist clench. Must he protect from everything, including yourself?

He scoffed at himself. He didn’t even know where you were in the world. He was lucky that he even understood your native tongue. He was also lucky that you spoke Korean on occasions. This made the odds of you living even remotely near him better, but not definite.

Why was he even doing this? Why was he watching you and fantasizing about you when you had no idea who he was and he had no idea where you were? Suddenly, he felt terribly ridiculous. He had spent every night this past week just watching you without your consent, dreaming about you, and imagining this entire life with you.

With a heavy heart, he waited for you to be out of frame before exiting your stream. He effectively wiped it off the website, he figured it was the least he could do to atone for the hours he spent watching it.

Jin rubbed his hands over his hands in frustration. This sexual and romantic solitude seemed to be really getting to his head. Tomorrow was a new day and he had to seriously consider finding someone as perfect as you and fast.

Or at least someone who could pretend was as perfect as you for a night.

The next morning went on as usual. He got up, went to work, and finally, attended school. His classes went on and eventually, he was in the courtyard with the same people as always.

“Dove, would you hand me the water bottle?” Taehyung mused to his girlfriend as he laid his form between her legs as she sat on the table. She handed him the water bottle and he kissed her hand as he retrieved it from her.

Jin rolled his eyes as he sat next to her, “And just when I thought I couldn’t feel any lonelier.” He groaned out.

“It’ll come when you least expect it.” She turned to him with a short giggle, “Tae just swept me off my feet just like that.” She snapped to indicate how sudden.

“It’s all about timing, my friend,” Taehyung spoke blissfully as his girlfriend combed through his hair.

“Yeah, look at my little Odette and I.” Jimin nuzzled into the neck of his girlfriend.

“Not helping the whole loneliness feeling for Jin, babe.” She grunted as she pushed his head away, “But he is right, he found the right time to fuck my brains out and now it’s a forever thing.” Her crude language made Jimin smirk a bit.

“Same boat, Jin.” Yoongi sighed, “We’ll get there.” He spoke before putting his headphones back in.

Jin nodded, used to hearing and seeing the same things. He looked out around the campus before heaving himself off the table, “I’m gonna get a soda, anyone want anything from the vending machine?“ When everyone shook their heads, he headed out onto the path to the Arts building.

It was outside the building that he saw a large gathering of some freshman intro class. He shrugged it off until he heard an eerily familiar voice.

“Okay, so that puts the whole hand through the coke can effect to rest.” Your voice was playful and melodic, “Now, for my final act, pun intended.” Jin whipped his head around as you beamed among the genuinely entertained class, “The infamous stage kiss!” You proclaimed as a rustle came about the crowd, “Yes, mumble, mumble, groan, groan. I know, but it’s a basic skill and as an intro class, you need to know them.”

Jin didn’t know if he was dreaming or not. Even if he was, he’d like for it to stay that way if it meant you were here. You were more than he imagined. You were all he could ever imagine for this past week. You were right there.

“Now, I need a volunteer.” A myriad of male and female hands went up much too enthusiastically for Jin’s taste. You chuckled, “Flattering, but I need someone above my age.” Hands went down, but not enough, “I will check ID, kids.” All the hands went down, but some unknown force made Jin’s hand go up, “I see one hand back there, so come on up!” You chirped and Jin made his way to the makeshift stage.

He found himself surprised for one of very few times in his life. What the fuck was going on? How were you here and in front of him? Was this even real?

To say your heart fell out of your mouth would be a gross understatement. Kim Seokjin was sauntering up to you, “Well, I don’t think you’re in this class.” You mused softly as he made his way to you.

He gave you a small wink and you would’ve squealed if you didn’t have self-respect, “Y/n, right?” He more so stated as he shook your hand.

You nodded with an evident gulp, “Kim Seokjin, our very own campus prince!” You clapped along with the rest of a suddenly envious class, “Okay so there are a couple ways to do a stage kiss. This can be done a couple different ways.” You explained and turned to Jin, “What is most important, though, is that your partner is comfortable with whatever you decide on, which goes for every aspect of life, my dears.” You winked at the crowd, “Now, are you okay with getting close to my face and me touching your face?” Jin smiled before nodding.

You were clearly in your element and it was mesmerizing. You had a passion for theatre and entertaining a crowd. This would be fine with Jin so long as the world knew it was his hand you’d be taking the moment you stepped off stage. You would give anything to be happy, this included your family’s support.

“Okay, so the typical way is the old fashioned way of covering your partner’s face with yours or vice versa.” You talked animatedly with your hands as your grasped Jin’s wrist and led him to the makeshift wall you had, “You have the regular kabedon way.” You moved to put his hand beside your hand, but Jin took initiative, making you jump, “A-And then the partner, or you, would close in at an angle and…BAM!” You giggled as Jin was brought to a halt leaning in, “A kiss.” You stared at Jin’s face for a while before breaking the spell with a sheepish smile, “Okay, so time is running thin, so, I’ll show you the thumb kiss.” You were so cheerful as you turned to Jin, “Now what you do is slide your hand behind their hair all romantic-like.” You went to bring your hand up to Jin’s face, but he took initiative making you jump as his hand cradled your face ever so softly, “And-uh- place your thumb on their mouth, and tilt ever so slightly, and…” You tilted your head up and Jin took this as the signal to bring his lips to yours softly, internally cursing his own thumb.

“BAM!” Jin chuckled, “A kiss.”

You giggled as you both broke away and Jin basked in the sound, “Alrighty, that’s our time! Thank you for being so responsive!” You beamed as the class dispersed with returning smiles. You turned to Jin, “And thank you, kind sir.”

“I can be quite the thespian if you want me to.” He was flirting, he was just hoping you knew he was.

“Quit trying to make me blush.” You chided with a playful smile, “It’s a felony to make me flustered, it’s a whole mess.”

Jin felt like this was an out of body experience. He wanted to pinch himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming about you as he had this entire week. Everything felt so natural with you. There was no facade or fake laughter. There was just you and him.

“As penance for my crime, I’ll help you clean up.” He smiled as you and you gave him a toothy grin.

He helped you pack up your random props and insisted on giving you a ride home, “There’s no way I’m gonna let you ride the bus with all of this.” Jin was adamant.

“I really don’t live far, it’s why I don’t take my car most of the time.” You tried to reason.

“Which is why it’s no problem for me to drive you.” Jin shot back and you huffed, giving a pout he knew all too well.

“Promise you won’t turn out to be some murderer?” You spoke through puffed out lips that he wished to place his own on.

He smiled warmly at you, “Promise, although my jokes are killer.”

You burst into a fit of melodious giggles as you shook your head, “Yeah, no way you’re a murderer, dork.”

The walk to his car was filled with stupid jokes and goofy laughing as if you had known each other for years. You basked in the warmth he provided you in such a short amount of time, and yet it far exceeded what your family supplied you. Maybe you didn’t have to get accustomed to loneliness if Jin was around. He made you feel valued, and you had heard he was kind, but you never knew just how kind. Was he like this with everyone? Or could he possibly like someone like you? Even just as a friend. At this rate, anything worked.

With this in mind, you turned to him, “So, are you gonna tell me how you knew who I was?”

“Well, that’s a loaded question.” Jin sighed out, debating on telling you some semblance of the truth, “Have you heard of the ArtCast scandal?”

“Oh, yeah, the whole thing with- Oh no.” You stopped walking, “Are you telling me that-”

“It’s a long story.” Jin smiled sheepishly at you, “I didn’t see anything intrusive or anything but-”

There was a lot to unpack in that exchange. On one hand, Jin had seen you in your most private area of existence, but you were never quite good at being angry about things. At the end of the day, you felt like it was your fault you were on there and you doubted Jin made a habit of dark web encounters. You reminded yourself he was a computer science major… or was it computer security? You’d really hate to make things awkward by being angry. Even so, were you angry? Were you this starved for a companion?

He stopped when you began laughing, “Man, I need to read User Agreements, that’s embarrassing.” You shrugged and Jin was taken aback by your calmness, “You must think I’m such a dweeb.”

“You’re not… creeped out?” Jin sped up to catch up to you.

You just offered a shrug, “All I do is cry and watch videos, so it’s not a big deal.” You chortled, “No use in dwelling on it, I got enough to dwell on.”

Jin felt a huge weight lift off of his chest as you went along your merry way with him. On one hand, you had no self-preservation skills, but you also had no hatred in your heart for anyone. This was enough to keep him tethered to you, and no longer the idea of you. You were nothing like him with your rose-colored glasses that you viewed the world with. You were much too delicate of a flower to be alone, vulnerable.

“You are one of a kind, y/n.” Jin mused and you felt your face heat.

“As are you, Seokjin.” Jin caught the extra skip in your step, “I’d like to see more of you.”

“And I, you.” Jin winked at you.

—-

When Jin pulled into your apartment complex he shuddered at the architecture, or lack thereof, “Terrible isn’t it?” You hummed.

“It's… not that bad…” Jin gave you an uneasy smile and you rolled your eyes, “Close to campus…”

“Well excuse me, sugar daddy, not all of us can afford a high rise.” You stuck your tongue out at him, but he was too focused on how inviting your mouth looked to him.

“Stick your tongue out like that,” He leaned closer to you in a half-joking manner, “And I’ll bite it.” He threatened, which only furthered your grin and made your nerves come alive.

“Kinky.” You leaned closer to him and suddenly the atmosphere in the car became much heavier with your tone, and Jin went to grasp your chin, the heat that pooled in between your legs when he did so made you gasp softly, “I dig it.” You breathed and that was all it took for Jin’s resolve to break.

Before he could make the move, you smashed your lips onto his. He responded immediately, grabbing the back of your neck to pull you closer. The kiss was everything either of you could have wanted despite how unbelievably sloppy it was. Your tongues soon intertwined and Jin went to your waist to pull you from the passenger seat to his lap. Somehow, you managed to do so despite the difficulty that came with keeping your lips connected while you did so.

“Your lips are so fucking soft.” You hummed against his mouth before going to his neck, “Your skin too.” You smiled against it.

He groaned when you began to shyly suck on top of his jugular, “Fuck, good girl.” He moaned out before you ground your hips against his at the praise. He then grasped the back of your hair, accidentally pulling a little harder than intended to bring your face back to his. He was ready to apologize until you moaned at the sensation, throwing your head back.

“Shit.” You moaned when he placed his plush lips on your neck, sucking hard, “You’re gonna leave a mark-ah!” You bit your lip when he sucked at your sensitive spot.

“Good.” He grunted and you only ground against him harder, “Fuck, you’re really testing me.”

“I live right there.” You panted as he pressed you against him, his hands grabbing at your waist.

“But your stuff.” He noted as he sucked on your neck.

“I’ll get it tomorrow morning?” You spoke softly, more shy, trying to ask him to stay the night without asking, “It’s been ages since I’ve had good dick.” You groaned.

“And why’s that, sweetheart?” Jin was domineering and it made your thighs clench.

“Nobody’s been worth my time.” You smirked as he gripped your hip, much to your delight and you giggled at this, “Okay, maybe that’s a lie and I just want you to think I’m desirable.”

Jin smiled at this as he unlocked his car, “I already desire you, baby.” You shuddered at this. You move to get out of the car, but Jin took the initiative to move the both of you. You should’ve been more embarrassed than you were about your legs being wrapped around a man you had only met properly that day as he carried you into your apartment while whispering the R-Rated version of sweet nothings in your ear.

You handed him the key, and the moment the door shut you were up against the wall in an instant. You weren’t shy about the continuous moans and groans he ripped for your throat with the way his hand cupped your sex and began ministrations.

Jin reveled in the sound you made, only bolstering the unyielding need he felt for you. He had pictured this moment for so long and here you were, legs wrapped around him as he stumbled from wall to wall to get to your bedroom with one hand inside your panties.

You didn’t even think to ask how he knew where your bedroom was when you passed the threshold because if the way his fingers slipped inside proved to demand your attention more. He laid you down on the bed and you scrambled to your knees to unbuckle his belt as he stood over you. He let out a low groan when your tongue made a stripe along the base. You had to admit that his dick was quite beautiful and thankfully clean. Granted, you’ve seen some nice dick, but he was so well kept and soft and everything you were happy to put your mouth on.

His hand grabbed ahold of your hair and you moaned with your mouth full when he took control of you by tugging your hair. You had always liked it rough, and it was like he was reading your mind. He was fucking your face in no time and your thighs clenched in an attempt to alleviate the ache that only he could satisfy. He eventually pulled you off him and he left your mouth with a satisfying pop.

He stared down at you, hair messy, drool trailing down your chin, and eyes captivating with a carnal want. The sight could absolutely make him cum if he concentrated hard enough. He gave you a teasing glance as his slender fingers took their time with his shirt and you stripped yourself of the dress you wore in an instant. By the time Jin was in view again, he dove at you, lips attaching to yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as you clutched him closer to your form and you took a moment to appreciate how fit he was. His plush lips trailed down your body while his soft hands reached behind you to remove your bra.

Jin pulled away to sit up and stare at you for a moment. You were under him, chest heaving, mouth open in want, and he looked at your body, breasts beyond what he imagined and he moaned when his hands ran over your body. His hands nearly ripped your underwear down your legs and he studied your pussy like a scholar. His fingers spread you and he groaned at how wet you were. His mouth engulfed you, tongue having ached to taste you for too long and the way you squirmed only spurred him further. He ate you up like a man starved. When his tongue went inside you, you swore you saw God.

"Jin!” You gasped, body unable to squirm in his firm grip. If you hadn’t been feeling so good, you would swear he was eating you out more for his sake than yours. You couldn’t even form words, only his name would come out of your mouth, and this was only aided when one of his hands went up to squeeze your nipple. His other hand went to stretch you with three fingers as air flooded your lungs in a dizzy of lust, “Fuck me!” You finally gasped out and that was all the prodding he needed.

Next time he would have to make you beg, take his time, drive you mad, but right now, he needed to feel you around him.

Jin plunged into you and you were immediately fucked out. The pain was delicious and you wanted more. He began to thrust slowly at first until your hips began to spasm, “Harder,” You moaned, “Please fuck me hard.” You begged and something in Jin just snapped.

“Who?” He slammed into you as you groaned in delight, “Who do you want to fuck you hard, hm?”

You took his hand and placed it around your neck, “You, Sir, please.” You batted your eyelashes at him and that was it, “I want you to fuck your cum into me.” He was a weak man for you. This much was solidified when he expertly slammed into you as he squeezed your neck intermittently. Strangled moans came from you until the hand holding his wrist squeezed and Jin let go of your neck to hear you scream for him as you came.

You didn’t disappoint as your back arched and eyes rolled back. The erotic image paired with the way you clenched around him only pushed him over the edge as he came, hips stuttering as you both rode out your respective highs.

You hardly remember him cleaning you up, what mattered most to you was the way he held you through the night.

You woke up to an empty bed and sighed out, figuring he was gone. Maybe this is your punishment for never making the guy wait like your mother said to. You huffed as your feet made contact with the floor and you flinched in pain, understandably sore.

You paused when you heard a sizzling. Jin was cooking. He was awfully comfortable in a home he had rarely seen and never been in, right? You stopped yourself for a moment.

You really fucked your hot stalker, didn’t you?

You audibly laughed. Your life was a fucking joke. Were you this desperate for attention to overlook the fact that this man had looked through the lens of your laptop long enough and hard enough to know the layout of your apartment.

You sure were.

You shook your head in exasperation as you headed out of the room where you encountered Jin in your kitchen, cooking eggs and he gave you a small smile. You returned if despite the conclusion you came to.

You certainly did fuck your insanely hot stalker.

“You know Jin, I don’t think you were completely honest with me earlier.” You mused, not bothering to look at him for a response, “It seems you encountering my little stream wasn’t as casual as you say.”

Jin froze for a moment. You weren’t an idiot. He knew it wouldn’t take you long to organize your thoughts and see the truth. Not that he planned to omit the full truth for long. He had just been hoping you were in love with him before it came out. He could only hope the orgasms brought you at least a quarter of the way there “Why do you think that, baby?” He spoke slowly as he used the plastic spatula to move the yolk.

“Call it a hunch, but I don’t think anyone is that passionate fucking someone they just met.” You spoke listlessly, “I don’t mean to sound vain, but are you obsessed with me?"

Jin let out a short laugh, "The short answer is yes, but before you kick me out,” He turned the stove off as he placed the cooked eggs on a plate before turning to you, fingertips drumming on the counter, “Why don’t we eat a bit while I make you a proposition?”

The smart answer would be no. The smart choice would be to kick him out, an idea you hadn’t considered until he said it. However, you were known for your charisma much more than your intelligence. With that, you sat down at your table and Jin smiled in relief ever so slightly. It almost made you wonder if he knew you weren’t going to kick him out at all.

“Who am I to say no to free food?” You hummed as Jin opened your silverware drawer without even needing to ask you, almost as if he had obsessively watched you go about your daily life for a week.

He handed you the fork as he sat next to you. You took a bite of the perfectly scrambled eggs because of course, they were perfect.

He watched you eat with an emotion you hadn’t seen before. He could tell you were confused, and he wanted so badly to tell you it was adoration. The swine you were surrounded by had been to idiotic to appreciate what they had. Even just watching you was a gift nobody deserved.

“So this proposition?” You mumbled as you chewed lightly.

Jin snapped out of his trance, “Ah, yes.” He straightened his posture and rolled his shoulders like a true businessman as you watched his mouth settle into a confident smirk, one slightly different than the one he held whilst holding your legs open mere hours ago. The memory almost made you want to forego the offer and proceed with another round instead. Never in your life had anyone made you feel so wanted, “I would like for you to be my… companion.” He snapped you from your thoughts and considered the word for a moment before speaking again, “I find the word girlfriend to be too casual for what I would like our arrangement to be.”

You shifted a bit in your seat, unsure what the word companion even meant to him, “And what arrangement would that be?” You took another bite, trying to avoid his intimidating aura.

“One of a romantic variety.” You nearly choked on the food, “I suppose the end goal is for you to be my wife.” This time you did choke on the food. Your windpipe had welcomed the egg but Jin was quick to pat you on the back as you coughed, “I was just about to say I’d like to grow old with you, and here you are, almost killing yourself.” He chided as he pushed a cup of water your way and he waited for you to put the cup down before proceeding, “Essentially, I love you, and I’d like for you to commit to being with me and eventually loving me back as we go through life together.”

Your eyes were wide as you looked past Jin, trying to avoid eye contact. Had anyone ever really loved you? Your parents, maybe. However, she was required to by society. Jin had no obligation to feel anything for you and yet here he was, making you food and offering you the love and attention you craved.

You felt your face heat at his nonchalant confession of love and yet your heart was racing at his hand landed on top of yours. Your entire body was buzzing and you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anticipation, “Well, w-what’s in it for me?” The question was shaky at best. You were willfully confused and unsure why you had been so ready to say yes without even hearing the benefits.

Jin was evidently amused by your attempt to put on a disinterested front. You had never been a good liar. He loved that about you and thrived on your honesty, “For one, you’ll have a stable and consistent person in your life.” That one stung a bit which is why he wanted to get that out of the way first. He knew how lonely and isolated you were, “You’ll always have my support emotionally, physically, and financially.” You nodded, asking him to go on, “You’ll never have to worry about anything really, I find myself with an aching need to bend to your every whim.” You smiled sheepishly at this, “I can offer you a life of happiness, loyalty, security, and endless love.”

You didn’t realize how hard you had clutched his hand until you breathed out a released Jin from your clutches. He stroked the top of your hand in response, “And what’s required of me?”

Jin squeezed your hand for a moment, “Your love and affection.” He mused, “I want you to commit to being my lover- ah, that’s the word I had been looking for.” He lightly tapped his head, “You make me woefully absentminded.” He chided and you felt your heart flutter, “All you ever have to do is look at only me as far as potential mates go. I can certainly promise to keep you interested.” A smirk played on the edge of his lips as his other hand stroked your knee, “You’re intoxicating and I could very well prove to be your drug of choice as well.” He spoke lowly and you almost shivered, “Your rules, for lack of a better word, would be to love me, and only me, and ideally, work at home for the most part.” This caught your attention, “Your passion seems to lie with screenwriting and editing with a dash of set design, yes?” He hardly waited for you to confirm, “So, you can do most of your work at home as is, on any other endeavors, I’d like to accompany you.” You nodded again, agreeing before your mind was fully made up, “I don’t like the idea of the outside world having free access to you.”

“Go figure, considering the outside world had paid access to me.” You chuckled before taking a breath after seeing Jin’s smile falter, “Anywho, I would be quite a fool to deny you.” You sighed out, “You paint a nice picture, especially to someone as isolated and affection-starved as myself. You seem to have made yourself the skeleton key to all the locked doors I’ve been faced with in my lifetime.” Jin smiled proudly at this, “Yeah, it’s creepy you got off to watching me and are literally obsessed, but if you look like this, have that much money, and can make me cum like that during our first time, who am I to say no to a life of comfort and happiness?"

"Do you think you could love me?” Jin asked, confidence mostly gone and his eyes left with pure hope. For the first time, he didn’t know your answer.

You smiled at him, no doubt in your answer as you brought your hand to cup his cheek softly, “I certainly could.” You were softer this time, “But riddle me this…"

"Anything.” His hand brushed over your own as your thumb stroked his cheek.

“Why do you love me?” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand after holding it.

He sighed dreamily, “I’m surrounded by people with the whole world in the palm of their hand.” He rubbed his face against your hand, “Some love it, some hate it, but they’re all the same.” You saw him grimace at the very thought of these people, “They lie and constantly pretend to be something they’re not.” He looked up to meet your eyes, “But you, are so unapologetic about who you are and what you love.” He cupped your face and you could feel yourself heat at his touch, “You’re honest and not afraid to feel despite everyone trying to get you to conform to their standards.” He smiled at you and you knew it was over, “I genuinely just want you in my life, and I want to be someone special to you as you are to me.”

You were shaken from the trance when you felt a tear slide down your cheek. Never in your life had anyone been so kind and supportive of you. He didn’t joke about how unlikely your career path was or give you a backhanded compliment. He was just a guy who wanted to be in your life and support you- and if overlooking his obsessive stint of his was what you had to do, then fuck it. He could’ve easily lied to you and you would’ve fallen for him none the wiser. What does you knowing about his obsession really change? It doesn’t make him love you any less and it doesn’t make you any less infatuated. You would be his and he would be yours because you both wanted it to be as such.

Jin’s hand brushed the tear off your cheek, “No need to worry, petal.” His voice was gentle, “Not anymore, not while I’m around.”

Your eyes glinted with hope and just a hint of trust when Jin met them again. You leaned in to kiss him softly, an affirming kiss. It was a kiss that said, “You better not be lying to me Kim Seokjin, I’ll go crazy.” You breathed the words against his mouth and he gave you a playful smile.

He gave you a kiss in return, reassuring the faith you decided to put in him. He would never disappoint you. His hand went to the back of your neck as he tilted your head upwards to pull you in deeper, “I’m so in love you.” He breathed on your mouth in return and you shivered, the feeling foreign to you.

“Well,” You huffed, catching your breath, “Do I get to live in your fancy penthouse now?” You gave me a carefree smile, and it sunk in that he was no longer forced to watch you through a screen. He could watch you all day. He had plans to do as much. He found he could prove his love best by merely looking at you.

You really knew how to read him like a book. He noted how terribly naive you were. In a matter of 24 hours, you agreed to move in with a man who had spied on you like an animal starved. However, Jin only determined this as an exhibition of how meant to be the both of you were. A great playwright must have written your love story for the ages.

The world looked much more beautiful with your hands on him.

ko-fi

masterlist

#yandere bts #soft yandere jin #kim seokjin #bts smut #bts series #bts oneshot #bts fanfic #bts fluff

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years

Text

For Your Eyes Only– bodyguard!ashton [Chapter Ten]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: 1,307 (it’s smaller than the others but the last 2 chapters will be longer I promise!)

Warnings: mentions of injury, slight trauma

Author’s note: there are links to click on so you can see what they are, they are bolded

donate to my ko-fi here :)

Masterlist

Chap. 1 || Chap. 2 || Chap. 3 || Chap. 4 || Chap. 5 || Chap. 6 || Chap. 7 || Chap. 8 || Chap. 9

The winter ball is always a grand spectacle in Chadria. It’s when Alouette opens her palace to her people so they can join her in celebrating the wintry season and Christmas. The palace is decked out with garlands of blue and silver, frosted wreaths and a splash of red blows scattered around.

Christmas is Alouette’s favorite holiday so she makes sure there is plenty of food and perfectly wrapped presents for the children that come.

Ashton made sure Calum has ordered the highest quality of walkthrough metal detectors that were equipped with x-ray. Ashton is on edge of having the palace opened to the public but Alouette is skirting around her home in such a cheerful manner, he doesn’t want to diminish her joy.

So, he’ll stay on edge for both of them.

“Everything’s going to be fine, man,” Michael assures him as they finish putting the last present under the tree.

The DJ is still setting up behind the white table that looked like snow and icicles. He will be playing all of the Christmas classics and a bunch of Alouette’s favorites.

“Our security is extra tight, the cameras are all working perfectly and Alou seems a lot more like herself,” Michael continues.

“I can’t help but be anxious, Mike,” Ashton sighs. He scans the room and it looks like a beautiful winter wonderland that he knows Alouette will love.

“I know, just . . . I don’t know, try to have fun tonight,” Michael says. “You need to go get ready, I’ll finish up here.”

“What do you mean get ready?”

“Go to your office and get ready,” Michael laughs pushing Ashton away, “trust me.”

•••••

Ashton waited patiently for Alouette to come inside the ballroom next to where all of her guests were. He’s wearing the new suit he found in his office, laid perfectly on his desk chair with a note from Alouette.

My gift for you, Your Alouette

Ashton’s staring out at the snow falling lazily from the window when the door opens, he spins around just as Alouette slips in and he takes in her appearance as she runs into his arms. He lifts her off the ground, the skirt of her silver dress billows in the air. Her soft giggle is music in his ears.

Ashton sets her down then captures her lips in a kiss, then gives her two more.

“You look exquisite,” he tells her, forehead on hers. He breathes her in.

“You look exceptionally handsome,” she smiles slipping her fingers under his lapels.

“I have you to thank for that,” he chuckles and tightens his hold on her waist. He touches her swan pendant gently.

“It’s all you, honey,” she sighs taking his hand in hers, “I just knew the green would bring out your eyes.”

They hold each other closely as he dances in a small circle while Nat King Cole’s voice echoes distantly through the walls sings The Christmas Song. The soft piano and magical sounds of the violins were Alouette’s favorite part of the song.

While they sway in comfortable silence, Ashton can’t stop picturing dancing with her in a different setting, where she’s in a white dress and a ring on both their fingers. Ashton releases her waist then spins her away from him, loving the way her dress flies up, then pulls her close once more.

Her smile and quiet laughter fill the room and Ashton’s never been happier.

When the song is over, Alouette exits the room first to return to the party. Ashton counts to twenty then follows after her. They blend back into the party without a hitch and Ashton keeps his eye on her as she moves about the room.

Then, a loud bang and crash bursts through the happy holiday fair, Alouette screams and Ashton is by her side immediately. Before she crumples to the ground with her head in her hands, Ashton slides next to her catching her in his arms. He holds her tightly to his chest as she whimpers in fear.

The music stops and it’s silent as her guests gather around their dear Princess, fear and worry expressed on their faces.

“An ice sculpture fell,” Michael says from Ashton’s left.

Ashton nods then helps Alouette stand to her feet, tears shining as they roll down her cheeks. “It’s all right, you’re all right. It was an ice sculpture,” he soothes wiping her tears. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

With quick glances to her guests, Ashton leads her from the ballroom to go upstairs to her bedroom. Once inside, as soon as the door clicks shut, Alouette breaks down against Ashton. He slides down on the floor cradling her in his arms.

Her cries come out in choked sobs, her fingers clutching tightly to his jacket and Ashton just holds her. He kisses her hair, rubs her arms and whispers loving words about how she’s safe and nothing is going to harm her.

“It b-brought me b-back to the . . . to that room,” she gasps. “They said horrible things to me to scare me . . . things they wanted to do . . . they joked about it. And-and they cut my dress whenever we moved. . . When I wouldn’t talk they burned me with th-their cigarettes. It wasn’t until I was tied up that they hit me and cut me . . . they laughed . . . .”

Ashton listens intently at the horrors she was relaying to him. He’s only asked once what happened and she pushed him away, now she’s opening up and he wants her to bear it all. If it will help her heal, he’ll listen for as long as she talks.

“They’d kiss my cheek but that was it. I didn’t get why,” she sniffs, “one of them liked hurting me the most. He cut my back and pressed the knife to my throat a lot. . . I thought I was going to die.”

She lifts her head up staring at Ashton. His eyes are wide while he listens to her. Alouette strokes his cheek, eyes memorizing his face even though she already knows every blemish, every faint freckle.

“Then you came and saved me,” she whispers, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “I knew you’d come and I stayed alive for you.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ashton sighs holding her face as well. They’re a tangle of arms and hands on the floor, their love seeping out in every breath and blink of a lash. “I’d die before I ever gave up on you.”

“I love you so much, Ashton,” she says, voice full of emotion.

“I love you, Alouette.”

And they’re kissing. Lips tasting like salt from her tears but their lips move in whispers finishing unspoken sentences that they already know. Ashton and Alouette have a bond formed that’s stronger than anything now.

•••••

Alouette knocks on the door to the monitor room, a place she’s visited on and off over the last few months when she’s searching for Ashton or looking for Michael. She left Ashton in her bed, slipping quietly from his loving embrace and pulled on her nightgown.

She knocks gently on the door then opens it, she peers into the blue-black of the room and spots Michael sitting in the center of all the screens.

“Oh, hey,” Michael greets setting down his mug of coffee. “Are you alright? Where’s Ashton?”

“In bed,” Alouette closes the door then moves next to Michael. She glances at the screens quickly then looks in his eyes behind the thick rimmed glasses he’s wearing. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can I ask you a favor as my friend and not as the Princess?”

Michael stares at her. Her eyes are a little fearful as she waits for his response.

“Y-yeah, yeah, of course,” he clears his throat nodding quickly.

“I want to speak with the man you have captive.”

• • • •

Taglist: @galcalirwin @cashtonasff5sos @wokeupinjapanisabop @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @here-for-the-uproars @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17

#ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin au #ashton au #ashton writing #ashton 5sos #fyeo #bodygaurd!ashton #bodyguard!ash #ashton fluff #ashton angst #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin angst

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babyboy-cody · 5 years

Note

hiya if your still doing your promt list, i was wondering if you could do a 3 in one for Duncan. I know it's a lot to ask, but I think it would be funny! But it's all up to you my lady so the numbers are 24,31, and 51! OK BYE ALSO I LOVE YOUR BLOG !!!

A/N: AAWW THANK YOU BABES ❤️❤️ and i don’t mind a lot of prompts,,,i love them sm. i made this a little longer than usual OOPS but i hope you love it!!

Duncan/Fem!Reader

24) Chin up, princess, or the crown slips.

31) Life is not a fairytale. If you lose your shoe at midnight, you’re drunk.

51) This stops now.

WARNINGS: slight angst, brief sadness, fluffy ending

“Are you coming tonight? I heard you bought two tickets. One for you, obviously. And I suppose the other is for your mystery man,” Duncan says into his phone, a wide smile spreading as he hears your angelic laugh on the other line.

“Yes, you big oaf. I live up to my promise,” you grin and laugh softly. “I’m excited for you to meet him. My best friend and my potential boyfriend finally seeing each other.”

“Don’t get too excited, sweetheart. I’ve only seen him through the media. And from what you’ve told me, he seems really…nice,” Duncan says with slight hesitation.

The truth is, Duncan despises Carter Bailey. The arrogant blonde tool has always tried to one up Duncan ever since his app has been the new “thing” in the industry. He just hopes Carter isn’t what he seems.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay? I’ll be surprising you with my dashing looks,” you say with a blushing smile as you hear Duncan chuckle deeply.

“Don’t you always,” he tells you and hangs up.

The night finally came for the banquet Duncan’s mother is throwing. It’s an annual event that occurs to say a speech about the country and the ways it’s improving over the past few months. You always dreaded the after parties when you have to mingle with snotty rich people who frown upon you for being lower class. But you always go to them for Duncan. You know how uncomfortable it can be to always greet people he doesn’t know and fill them in on his work.

You fix the velvet dress that hugs your curves perfectly and slips on your sheer shawl that loosely hangs around your back and around your arms. You grab her clutch and walk down the steps to meet Carter. He’s standing on the porch with a look of disdain on his face as he pokes at the paint chippings of her door.

“Ready?” You ask him with a smile.

He barely glances your way and takes your hand. You both get inside the large white limousine. The partition in the vehicle was rolled up, and you try to swallow down your growing nerves.

“Do you like my dress?” You asked Carter. “Duncan bought it for me on my 22nd birthday.”

“Mhm, it looks nice,” he tells you withtout looking up from his phone, fingers furiously tapping on the screen.

Your smile falters. You turns in your seat to look out the window. You let out a shaky sigh and drum your well manicured nails on your exposed knees. The drive to the banquet hall was an agonizingly long 45 minutes. Carter barely spoke to you, and when he did, his words were usually short and bland. Your heart leaped out of your chest as the limo slowed to a stop in front of the entrance. Paparazzi hung around, all shouting and clicking their cameras. Carter exited first and held out his hand to you, his charming smile suddenly onto his lips.

It’s all for show.

You give him a small smile and move closer to his side. Carter places his hand at the dip of your exposed back and led you inside. Your eyes were briefly blinded by the constant flashes from the cameras in your face. When you both entered, you were immediately met with the sounds of classical music and light chatters. The marble structures and paintings were exceptionally exquisite. The details of every curvature made you gasp in awe. Carter pushes you forward, and you both walk to your assigned table. You took a seat first without Carter sliding your chair out, as a gentleman would; as Duncan would.

“Can you–”

“I’ll be right back,” Carter tells you and hurriedly walks away to envelope a woman, whom you’ve never seen before, in his arms.

You feel your heart break just a bit. But that all goes away when you feel those familiar hands on your bare shoulders, palms and fingers rough and warm.

“It’s about damn time you showed up,” Duncan tells you and takes a seat in Carter’s spot. “I was about to lose my damn mind.”

You let out a soft giggle and lowered your head slightly, a strand of hair falling across your cheekbone. Duncan quickly swoops in to tuck it back behind your ear, his fingers lightly brushing across your glowing skin.

“You look…incredibly,” he quietly tells you. “Like a princess fit for her crown.”

“Shut up,” you giggle quietly and look over at him, a warm blush coating your cheeks. “You look devastatingly handsome as always.”

Duncan’s dressed in his fitting black dress shirt, the buttons closed up to his neck with his collar neat and straight, not one wrinkle in sight. His hair is in its usual sleek swoop, no strand of hair out of place. He looks like a dark prince.

“So, where is your mystery man?” Duncan questions and looks around the crowded hall.

“He’s…” you look around as your shoulders slump. “Somewhere.”

Duncan hums and sends you a look as he takes a sip of his whiskey on the rocks. Suddenly, his jaw tenses as he looks behind your shoulder. You feel a hand rest on her shoulder. She fights to recoil from the touch, as it’s too soft and too cold for her skin.

“Shepherd,” Carter says with his usual smirk.

“Bailey,” Duncan says with no smirk. “Hope you’re treating my girl with the respect she deserves.”

“Your girl?” Carter laughs. “Looks like she’s not yours anymore, Shepherd.”

You squirm in your seat uncomfortably as both men enter a stare down. Duncan stands from his seat, hand wrapped too tightly around his glass. He breaks the stare at looks down at you with a soft smile. He glares at Carter one last time before walking away. Carter scoffs and takes his assigned seat.

“I can’t believe you’re friends with that douchebag,” Carter spits out with disgust. “You and him clearly don’t go together.”

The laugh he lets out is condescending as he takes a sip of his own whiskey. The way he drinks it made your lips curl slightly in distaste. It’s so uncoordinated. When Duncan drinks, it’s like a slow dance. His lips would curl around the edge, tongue peeking out just enough. His eyes would close as his head tilts back, the hot whiskey sliding down his throat.

“Y/N,” you feel a hand shaking you from your thoughts. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Um, no,” your cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

Carter scoffs and rolls his eyes. He mumbles intangibly and quiets down when everyone begins to go to their own seats. The lights dimmed and the spotlights are turned onto the stage that contains a glass podium. It’s time for the annual speech.

Time has ticked by agonizingly slow. You tried to make conversation with Carter, but all you get is a glare or a harsh hush. You leaned against your chair and crossed her legs, desperately wanting to see Duncan. Carter suddenly looks over your shoulder, his eyes widening slightly as he bites his bottom lip.

“I’ll be right back,” he halfheartedly tells you and leaps up from his seat without drawing any attention.

Your brows furrow with confusion. You look over her shoulder and see Carter disappearing around the corner in a hurry. You assumed he needed to use the bathroom and thought nothing of it. But when the speech ends and a round of applause fills the room, you get up from her seat carefully and made your way to the bathroom. You walk down the long hallway, your heels clicking against the marbled floor. When you turned the corner, you pushed the bathroom door open and let out a loud gasp. But you soon realize that the two people didn’t hear you over their hushed moans and low grunts.

It’s Carter and that woman from earlier. And by the looks of it, they seem really happy with each other. You move back slowly and slip out the door without them noticing. You couldn’t stop the heavy feeling of your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach: it’s painful and punches through. You couldn’t stop the trembling in your lips or the burning tears in your eyes. You made your way around back into the garden where no one ever bothers to see. You walk down the steps and take a seat at the large angel fountain. You sniffle and wipe your tears away, shaking your head at herself for getting hurt over Carter, of all people.

“Stupid,” your whispered to yourself as a new wave of tears rolls down your flushed cheeks. “Stupid.”

“I second guess that,” your hear from a distance.

You don’t bother to look up when you hear his footsteps crunching into the rocks, followed by the munch of soft grass under his heels. Duncan takes a seat on the stone bench and nudges your shoulder with his.

“Chin up, princess, or the crown slips,” he tells you.

You let out a soft laugh and sniffled again. You wiped under your eyes with your back knuckles and sigh softly.

“I know what happened. You don’t have to explain it to me,” Duncan quietly says to you. “I saw them sneak out.”

You stay quiet and stare down at your hands. Duncan looks over at you and brings your hand into his. His thumb strokes over the delicate bones of your knuckles.

“I always thought my life would be like a fairytale. I’d get swept off my feet by some charming prince and we’d ride away into the sunset. I figured I’d lose a shoe at midnight or something so he can be desperate to find me again,” You say and lean your head on his shoulder.

“Life is not a fairytale. If you lose your shoe at midnight, you’re drunk,” Duncan says seriously.

That makes you laugh louder than the last. Duncan couldn’t help the grin form on his lips at the sweet sound filling his ears. You picked your head up and look over at him, your own grin spreading on your ruby lips. Duncan looks at them for a brief second before gazing into your sparkly eyes.

“You deserve better, if not more,” he sincerely tells you. “You don’t need to have such a perfect life. I mean, look at me. Am I perfect?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitation, your smile never faltering as Duncan rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, Dunc. You’re perfect. And I’m…not.”

“Who said that?” He asks you.

“Everyone. And what they say is true. I’m not cut out for this. I can’t afford certain things, I live in a goddamn one story house. I can’t even leave without there being a breaking and entering in my neighborhood. I’m nothing compared to you,” You confesse, a fresh wave of tears forming in your eyes.

“This stops now,” he sternly tells you, large hands grabbing your cheeks to look into your beautifully teary eyes. “You are more than perfect, Y/N Y/L/N. There’s not enough words to describe how perfect you are to me.”

You release a shaky exhale and stare deep into Duncan’s ocean eyes. You don’t see an ounce of dishonesty. Your heart stutters as a heat forms on your cheeks under his large palms.

“Do you mean that?” You asked, your voice small and hesitant.

“Have I ever lied to you?” He asks you, brows furrowing as his thumb wipe away your warm tears. “I mean everything I say, Y/N. I love you.”

Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach. Your eyes widen for a brief moment and you wait for Duncan to catch himself from his words. But he doesn’t. He stays still with his eyes locked on yours. Is this a dream? Is this really happening? This can’t be real.

“I love you too, Duncan,” you whisper and rest your forehead on his, hands gently holding his wrists. “Thank you for this.”

“For what?” He whispers, eyes closed as he breathes in the sweet scent of you.

“For being there,” You tell him softly.

“Always,” he says.

#duncan shepherd #prompt #prompt list #duncan shepherd x reader

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twofrontteethstillcrooked · 6 years

Text

"You should stay with him tonight," Thomas whispered in James's ear.

James pulled back. "Oh? And where will you be?"

"In our bed, sleeping peacefully, I should think."

James gave him a long look. "You could join us, you know."

"No," Thomas said, kissing behind James's ear. "Not yet. He's not...there yet."

"But you are?" James held Thomas's head in his hands.

More summarized summary: Germs and pining. Snippetfic, silverflint/flinthamilton/silverflinthamilton. Angst, humor.

(snippet is over at AO3 too but like every other thing I’ve tried to post today anywhere on earth, the AO3 share function isn’t working correctly. wow this year! just keeps going.)

The knife clattering to the table punctuated the end of the paragraph Thomas was reading, and he sat his book aside.

"Carrots fighting back," he asked, "or are we about to be invaded?"

James was squinting out the window like he'd expected it to be sunny and fair instead of falling dark now for at least two solid hours. His posture was that of a man about to pick up the knife and charge at whatever attacker might kick down the door.

Of course it would be Silver arriving home for the evening. They hadn't seen him since the day before yesterday. He'd come home late and so had they. The sounds of him getting ready and leaving in the morning had been proof of his being alive and Thomas hadn't thought to worry. Before, anyway.

"What the hell happened to you?" James said the instant Silver had breached the doorway.

Silver paused in removing his outer garments only enough to throw him a puzzled glance. "Nothing?"

Thomas was puzzled as well, likely for different reasons.

James strode over and grasped Silver's shoulders, patting him down as Silver tried to finish unwinding his scarf. "Are you hurt somewhere else?"

The banked panic in James's tone would have amused Thomas if it hadn't been so plaintive.

Silver, for his part, continued to look baffled -- but also strangely younger than the last time Thomas had seen him.

"I'm not hurt at all," Silver said, shaking off James's grip. "Have you gone mad?"

"What the fuck happened to your beard?" James demanded. And then he hiccupped, as if hearing how histrionic his question had been.

Thomas took a sip of scotch and tried not to laugh out loud.

"I shaved it off two days ago," Silver said. He had hold of James's hands, to keep them otherwise off his body. "Well, the razor slipped, actually, while I was trying to trim one side, and my attempt to, um, even up the other side didn't really work, so anyway, it was just easier, in the end, to shave all of it off and start over."

James took back one hand to rub a thumb over the little scab low on Silver's right cheek. Thomas held his breath, watching the way that smallest of touches made Silver go utterly still, his eyes on James's as if they were negotiating the next salvo in some long-standing argument. Or: something else entirely.

Thomas could not quite believe how different the lack of beard -- well, the old beard of two days ago -- made Silver appear. Silver was young, younger than Thomas had realized; young with so little effort. It made Thomas feel desperately old, for reasons he could not begin to understand, while inversely the sight of James's hand cupping Silver's now only slightly rough jaw just made Thomas feel warm, like someone had snuck in and built roaring fires in every room, had lit three dozen candles in the kitchen alone.

James's voice was now tempered with something like wonder. "It's been a long time," he said to Silver, "since I have actually seen your face." He smiled, as though at some joke he and Silver shared.

Silver breathed out a small laugh. He still seemed a little confused, but game. "Well. It's been here the whole time." He broke the eye contact with James to wave at Thomas. "Good evening, Mr. Hamilton."

His eyes were exceptionally blue, Thomas thought. But he'd known that already, hadn't he?

"Good evening, Mr. Silver. Nice to see you."

James spent the rest of the evening glancing at Silver with barely concealed lust that far outpaced anything the lively debate over card games should have caused. (Thomas was officially on the record as finding lanterloo stupid.) Silver didn't mind James's attention, Thomas could tell. But within Silver's return glances were also an odd sort of timidity that ought to have been out of place by this stage in his relationship with James. Silver, Thomas deduced, was good at pretending, and in the absence of the need to do that he was being forced to confront the continual fact of someone's genuine desire. Thomas almost wanted to tease him about it.

That was not all Thomas increasingly wanted.

"You should stay with him tonight," Thomas whispered in James's ear.

James pulled back. "Oh? And where will you be?"

"In our bed, sleeping peacefully, I should think."

James gave him a long look. "You could join us, you know."

"No," Thomas said, kissing behind James's ear. "Not yet. He's not...there yet."

"But you are?" James held Thomas's head in his hands.

Well, Lord Hamilton, are you? In the corner of the kitchen Silver was putting away bowls and trying not to look like he was eavesdropping. Thomas felt a surge of affection for him.

"Soon," he told James. He picked up his papers and pen and bottle of ink. "Goodnight, Mr. Silver," he said on the way out.

"Goodnight, Mr. Hamilton," Silver called back.

From the hall Thomas could see James take Silver's hand, could see Silver's mouth just before James kissed it.

Soon, Thomas thought again, and closed the door.

James snuck in an hour or two before dawn and climbed in bed rumpled and positively glowing.

Thomas rolled over and grinned at him. "Exhausted, love?" James gave a noncommittal hum and rubbed his hand up under Thomas's nightshirt. "Ah. Would you like to be?"

James smiled, very wickedly.

The next evening, as occasionally occurred, Thomas and Silver's paths crossed in town and they made the walk home together.

"You returned to this godforsaken wasteland on purpose?"

When Silver spoke, his words echoed, both literally and with incredulousness. His disbelief was warranted, Thomas thought; the weather had turned brutal in the last hour, and the two of them were picking their way to the house on a path half snowed and half iced over, against wind cutting down through the trees like a sword wielded by an angry, clumsy giant.

"I missed the long hours of English sunlight," Thomas said, as though musing on it, and took pleasure in the sputtered laugh Silver made.

(What had he missed? Miranda, James. Mornings of woolen fog and tea served in delicate china; fat, inquisitive robins perched on branches, who would quirk their small heads from side to side if he whistled at them from an open window; the corner of the garden behind his father's house, where the cabbage rose bushes crowded out the cobblestone path; his sister Pene, and the way she jabbed -- not dabbed -- at her watercolors when enraged with one tutor or another, which had been most of the time. Debates with guests who raised their voices to argue for or against his points, sloshing wine out of exquisite long-stemmed glasses. The bustle on London streets, and the quiet in his old study where he had once gone to his knees and made James blush and swear and relent. The festive scent of plum pottage served by the old cook, Fiona; Fiona herself, and the jolly way she used to bang her wooden spoon on the lip of the iron pot, barely missing his fingers as he tried to sneak a bit of beef. He missed polished wooden floors, candles trimmed by servants, fussy hors d'oeuvres. He missed his life sometimes, and sometimes hated that he missed it, because much of it had been bought with more blood than he could ever atone for.)

An icicle from a tree branch stabbed itself into the snow piled to Thomas's left. At the same moment Silver slipped, and steadied himself by bringing Thomas to a fast halt with a hand like a vise around Thomas's elbow, which hurt. It would be worse if one or both of them fell: this logic led Thomas to put an arm around Silver's waist and haul him toward the house. By the time they were at the doorstep the idea had proven to be a regrettable one, since Silver was making a truly indescribable noise, his crutch was dragging the ground like a claw, and Thomas was exhausted.

"You sound like a mangy cat my grandfather once tried to bathe," James commented, upon opening the door for them.

Thomas pushed Silver at him, and slammed the door shut with a satisfying whump. "He is heavier than a cat."

Silver started, "I didn't ask--"

"Shall I put you back?" Thomas discovered there was no way to take off his coat and scarf without a spray of melting ice pellets flying from his body. Most of them hit Silver, which was gratifying.

James had stepped away, leaving Silver propped against the kitchen table, where he had enough balance to take off his own coat in as violent a manner as possible. Snow pelted Thomas as though he had not succeeded in closing the door.

"No biting," James called out from wherever in the house he had taken himself off to, the scoundrel.

Narrowing his eyes at Silver, Thomas advanced slowly. Silver did not cower; he pushed himself up to full height, everything about his expression a dare. Thomas took a second to be impressed, since he held no illusions about what Silver was capable of if threatened. Thomas wondered if Silver would be shocked at what Thomas was capable of -- he doubted it. They had seemed from the beginning to recognize something about each other, voiced or not; they were not men to be trifled with.

The lump of snow that had coagulated in a fold of Thomas's scarf created such a perfect weapon he was almost sorry to destroy it by crushing it on top of Silver's head, and the rules of genteel behavior should probably have dictated he not afterwards try to dash away. Nevertheless. Live for the moment, that was one of Thomas's mottos in his new life.

Possibly Silver had more experience putting such things into practice. He was far more talented with that crutch than Thomas had anticipated. The crutch did wind up under the table, but so did Thomas. Somehow. He'd lost a few seconds of comprehension in the descent. By the time James wandered back into the room Silver had sat down in the nearest chair and Thomas had regained the ability to take a full breath.

"Actually, maybe biting would have worked out better for you," James suggested.

The floor was hard against Thomas's back. When he stretched his legs out his spine seemed to crack in an agreeable way. "I was only trying to help." He reached over to unbuckle Silver's boot, on the theory that while he was down there he may as well make himself useful.

"By hitting me with a snowball?" Silver asked.

"By getting you into the house in one piece, before you caused us both to break a hip."

Silver wiggled his foot out of the boot. "Ah. Yeah." He held out a hand, and Thomas let him pull him up to a sitting position.

"Well?" Thomas said. He narrowed his eyes at Silver again.

"All right, yes." Silver scratched at his jaw. "Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, for your valuable assistance traversing the inclement elements," he muttered while looking anywhere but at Thomas.

"You're welcome, Mr. Silver." Thomas used Silver's leg as leverage to stand up. His elbow was still his sorest point, so there was a valuable lesson, he supposed. Why they weren't having Silver chop wood more often was beyond him.

It was easy, possibly too easy, to brush the last remnants of snow out of Silver's hair as he passed by. Out of the corner of his eye Thomas could see James watching him -- and not smiling but wanting to smile -- and Thomas flicked the snow off his fingers with as much nonchalance as he could muster. Thomas was almost out of reach when Silver wrapped one of his freakishly strong hands around Thomas's elbow again; Silver's grip was gentler this time. If the gesture wasn't exactly an apology, it was, Thomas thought, close enough to count.

Silver kept hanging on.

"Yes?" Thomas asked.

Silver peered at him. "Do you feel well?"

Bit of a bruised ego but all in all right as a line, Thomas started to say. James was beside him with a cool hand on his forehead, and a concerned wrinkle sketched between his eyes.

"You have a fever," James said, sounding shocked.

"Oh." Thomas patted Silver's hand, then kissed James's cheek. "That might why be I'm so bloody tired." He felt heavy and irritatingly hot, as if from nowhere: one minute hale and the next hobbled.

James said, "You should rest. I could bring you a bite to eat in bed. Do not say something lewd in response."

Silver let go of Thomas, smiling as he rolled his eyes at James. "May I assist anyone?"

"Hmm," James said, before kissing Thomas's cheek in turn.

Then he and Silver set to tasks as though able to read each other's minds, a thought that might have frightened Thomas more if they had not proven in the past to be so spectacularly bad at it when it came to certain things. Thomas took himself out of the kitchen and indeed put himself in bed. He listened to their knocking around each other as they chopped food and chatted and took what was surely a brief interlude for kissing, before Silver said "SHIT," and James -- it was obviously James -- raced from one point to another and the sound of a lid being thrown on a pot rang throughout. Thomas meant to stay awake just a while longer, just to see what they might bring him for sustenance. James laughed at something, and Silver said something in response that made him laugh again.

Thomas fell asleep against the pillows.

In the morning, he woke first, his fever discarded. James was plastered to his side in large part by Silver pinning him against Thomas, and neither of them stirred a bit. For some reason, from nowhere, he remembered Miranda's hair like iron gall ink spilt across a white sheet, her eyes sharp as she recited, "'Past cure I am, now reason is past care, and frantic-mad with evermore unrest.'" He missed her, oh; he missed their life.

Slowly the knife-edge of the memory faded, such that he could think of her without cutting himself on it. James spread his hand on Thomas's stomach; Silver made a soft trill like he was being surprised in a dream. Thomas watched them wake as dawn lit up the room, James blinking and Silver stretching, the bed creaking, everything muffled and warm. What would I pay to have the past again, Thomas asked himself. Would I be able to give this -- them -- back? There were no bargains to be made.

James said, "Are you feeling better?"

"None the worse for a good night's rest," Thomas said. He kissed James's mouth, and rose to start the day.

A few days later it finally happened.

"It's none of my business," Silver said, and like most people who said that sort of thing then continued, "but I am curious. What made you return to England? Flint's not really said." He was unwrapping a wedge of Dorset blue and held it up like he'd expected it to be something else. "I can ever tell when this sort of cheese goes bad. It smells like moldy feet even when fresh."

Thomas took the second comment first, trying to recollect the rhyme. "Something, something, 'covered with scales, not weepy, white, or blind, but weighty and firm with a crusty rind.' Something like that."

Silver looked at him like he was insane.

"I vote we let James eat a piece and if he lives the cheese probably hasn't gone off," Thomas said. "We came back to England because it seemed. I don't know. Like the right place to start."

Silver crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter. "You didn't want to forge another path in the new world?"

Thomas steadied the wood he'd been stacking by the hearth. "It was never going to be as simple as all that, not for me. Not after. Well."

He rearranged a few of the logs to make the ones at the bottom a more stable foundation for the stack. What he felt about England, the colonies, what England had done; what his father had done and how he had benefited from it-- What England was continuing to do; the new world; those roughly ten years of his life struggling to stay alive, to figure out a way to wrench himself free again-- His feelings on each and every topic seemed to change five times an hour, and the harder he tried to grasp something final on the matter the more they seemed to fly through his fingers like chaff. The escape had been one thing, the journey to England something else.

He had wanted to come back because he could not stay where he was; it hadn't meant he would stay in England forever, or that he would force James to. And eventually, Thomas thought, a path would present itself. Before, he'd considered himself tenacious. Bold, perhaps. He hadn't always felt brave. He had mostly felt compelled, destined; propelled forward to progress and for progress. He had been a man who marched forward, and the world had seemed to welcome his advances.

...Until it hadn't.

There were only so many truths he believed in his marrow now. He loved James; James loved him.

"I'll confess, I haven't quite figured everything out, nor what I hope to achieve now we're in England again. It has been a mercy, of a sort, to not have to have an answer right away." He slapped wood dust from his hands. "That could change eventually; for now, this is home."

And you are part of that, Mr. Silver, Thomas didn't say.

When he looked over Silver wore a thoughtful expression. "What?" Thomas asked.

Silver shook his head. "You're." He shook his head again. "You keep not being what I expected." He said it like he knew it was an admission of something. He cleared his throat a little. "In some ways."

"Thank you?" Thomas wondered which pieces of himself appeased some prior speculation Silver had made. "It's. Mutual." Thomas chose not to elaborate on that.

Silver didn't seem to mind; he'd returned to poking at the cheese with his knife-tip. Perhaps Thomas was imagining it but something bleak seemed to have washed over Silver's face.

"When you do decide what to do with the rest of your life, you mustn't not leave if you need to," Silver said quietly.

Thomas wasn't certain he'd followed that. "I--"

"Not that you need my permission either way," Silver said. "But if you ever need to leave, to storm the palace or what-have-you, leave. He'll follow you, without question."

Without thinking, Thomas replied, "I've no preliminary plans to start an insurrection, but if we ever leave, you're coming with us."

Silver stilled. When he looked at Thomas again, Thomas looked back with as much composure as possible.

He'd meant what he said, and he hoped Silver would interpret it as a simple statement of fact instead of a threat -- although, in a way, it was the sort of promise that could be construed as less than benign. Thomas was striving to be a good person, and on the other hand he would be, if not happy, then immensely capable of denying Silver a variety of God-given freedoms if it meant James would not suffer. And James would suffer, greatly, were he parted from Silver again.

Thomas could practically hear Silver running through various scenarios in his head, fast as a hare tearing through underbrush to escape a fox. He liked that about him, that mercurial cleverness, and had to acknowledge he would be foolish to suppose he could best Silver at any number of challenges, should it come to that. Thomas was determined to leave his own naivety as far in the past as possible and perhaps a wiser man would already have plotted the means by which to secure as much of a coveted future as possible; some might implore him to never assume Silver would fit, or could be corralled, into such plans.

But Thomas could see Silver's eyes. Those were the eyes of someone terrified at the mere thought of hurting James again. You are spending too much time, Thomas told himself, looking into those eyes. A smaller voice said, James isn't the only person he's scared of hurting -- and don't be daft, of course you know the others aren't only himself and Madi.

Silver blinked slowly. He'd seen something on Thomas's face.

"To clarify, I should say James and I have no intention of absconding with you to other places of residence at this time," Thomas said, attempting to lighten the mood, "but should our circumstances change you will be given plenty of notice in which to tie up any loose ends you may have here, write to Madi -- to let her know the rebellion's rendezvous point, since you know she'll want in on that -- make arrangements for the tavern, pack up the house, that sort of thing. No bolting in the dead of night for us." Charming, Lord Hamilton; you used to be charming.

"I look forward to appreciating your courtesy on the matter," Silver said, tone very dry, "when, as you say, such a time arrives."

Thomas picked at the spine of the book he'd brought home. Samuel Hooke, the local bookbinder, had demonstrated to Thomas that morning the sewing of end bands. Thomas mostly just wanted to know how to bind books so that he could make some for his own library. Samuel, aged 85, had been a teacher and took bookbinding seriously. His wife Ina was doting and chatty. Thomas liked them both very much.

(They had no idea who he'd been, and for the time being he rather liked that too.)

"Fables?" Silver asked, sitting down with a plate of grapes.

"Folk tales." Thomas opened the cover to show off the marbled end papers.

Further conversation on the subject was disrupted by James throwing open the door. As he came in he was chomping at the air, contorting his face as though possessed by demons, and tugging at his earlobes.

"What the hell," Silver said, eyes wide.

"You sound like you're in a cave," James said. He sounded like he'd spent all day screaming, which was not, as far as Thomas knew, a regular requirement of ship building. "My stomach itches."

It was such a bizarre thing for James to say Silver gaped at him like a fish.

Thomas took the lead, standing to help James out of his coat. "Oh dear. You're sick." He brushed James's hair back from his eyes. James's forehead could've cooked an egg.

"I hate being sick," James said as Thomas walked him into the bedroom.

After undressing and leaving most of his clothes on the floor, James was taking up the entire bed by lying across it diagonally. He was also shivering and writhing like he'd had too many cups of too strong tea. He'd been increasingly pitiful as the evening progressed. Thomas, sorting out the discarded clothes, was sympathetic and entertained both. He would not, however, be able to sleep in the tiny unoccupied wedge of mattress James wasn't flailing around on. Silver was coming to a similar conclusion.

"These pillows are prickly," James said. He punched at one with a weak fist and a few downy goose feathers puffed up into the air.

Silver gave Thomas a look. James's legs were twisted up in one of the blankets. It took a deal of strength for Thomas to unwind it out from under him, and James groaned like Thomas was doing him no favors. Silver left the room just as James tried to roll over and only Thomas prevented James's skull from being split on the edge of the bedside table.

"Could you help," Thomas said as Silver returned with more blankets and pillows.

Silver let the armload fall to the floor and plucked a pillow from the pile. "This one is softer," he explained to James, taking away the hated pillow and putting the new one under James's sweaty, irritable head.

James thrashed around some more and threw off his blanket. The chattering of his teeth could clearly be heard.

"We could just smother him," Silver suggested.

"Noooo," James said, as though anyone were seriously considering it.

Thomas toed the pile of extra blankets on the floor. "What are we doing with these?"

"Thought I'd sleep in here." Silver was trying to tie his hair back with string and his hair was behaving about as well as James.

Those delinquent curls were distracting. Thomas made himself focus. "Sleep in here where?"

"On the floor."

"Really."

"I've slept rough on far worse. Imagine you may have as well." Silver managed to get most of his hair pulled back, save one missed lock. Thomas's fingers itched to tuck it behind his ear.

James had thrown an arm over his eyes like a lady swooning in a terrible theatrical.

Silver took a patient breath and knelt down beside him in what had to have been an uncomfortable position. "Do you need some water?" he asked James. "Or perhaps some opium?"

James perked up. "Do you have some opium?"

"No." Silver's mouth was a line set grim.

"No fair," James said.

Silver stood up gracefully. "He'll be fine," he told Thomas, and then set about making a pallet on the floor between the bed and the room's small hearth.

Thomas busied himself fetching mugs of water and a wet cloth for James. When he arrived back in the room Silver had completely taken away the first pillow James had tried to mangle. Whatever had happened in the three minutes Thomas was in the kitchen had resulted in an isolated snowstorm of feathers. Silver gave Thomas another look and went back to raking the feathers into a pile, which he stuffed into the remnants of the pillow, before tossing the lot under the bed to be dealt with, presumably, another time.

"Please close your eyes and try to rest," Silver said, unfolding another blanket on top of James.

Thomas laid the cool wet cloth across James's hot forehead and patted him on the chest.

"Where are you going?" James asked.

"We'll be right over here," Thomas said, hoping Silver wouldn't be surprised they'd be sharing a pallet. "Try to sleep, love." He kissed James's cheek and James nodded, eyes already slipping shut, like he'd be dreaming soon.

"Hearth side, or bed side?" Silver asked. He was lowering himself to the floor.

"No preference." Thomas waited for him to stretch out in front of the hearth before sitting down beside him.

The wooden floor was not made appreciably softer by the padding of a quilt and a blanket but it would do. Silver was right: Thomas had passed more than one night on far worse surfaces. No good reason to dwell on it, Thomas told himself. Silver laid down, curled on his side facing away from the small fire. It felt oddly rude to lie down with his back to him, so Thomas curled on his side facing Silver. That one loose lock of hair proved too tempting -- he tucked it behind Silver's ear and took his hand back right away. Silver blinked at him, sleepiness showing in shadows under his eyes, and for a few minutes everything was peaceful.

Then: "'Of the same metals they likewise make chains and fetters for their slaves.'" A grumble as James scooched around on the mattress. "Listen, Thomas, go fuck yourself."

Thomas meant to explain, in an aside, that he was not the author of or reason for James's recitation. Before he could, Silver pinched the bridge of this nose and said, "Should we expect him to critique Utopia's shortcomings all evening, do you think?"

"Short," James said. Stopped up or not, he had ears like a bat. "Silver is shorter than I am and I am shorter than Thomas." He sounded fond. Thomas couldn't tell if he knew everyone else could hear him, but what did it matter. "Tuck tuck tuck, you can tuck Silver under your chin, you can nearly put him in your pocket." James cough-laughed. "But don't forget his enormous hands, ha. Which, mmm, made much more sense once I discovered his other, mmm, endowments. Blessings from the lord, ahh." He sounded fond and delirious.

Silver had put his enormous hands over his face by this point. Thomas couldn't really blame him.

"Thomas's is also, well, whew," James murmured, as though the topic required great thoughtfulness. Mournfully: "I missed him so much when he was dead." Less mournfully: "Also his prick."

Thomas and Silver looked at one another with stoic, somber expressions.

"Why are you on the floor?" James whined, because he had apparently just noticed where they were.

Silver sat up and looked at James with an expression of truly kind tolerance. "Mr. Hamilton and I were afraid the collective weight of our gigantic cocks would prove too much for the bed frame to bear."

What was breathing? Thomas didn't know. He was too busy crying with laughter with his hands over his mouth, as if that would stopper the sound. At some point Silver joined in, and it took them both several minutes to get themselves under control; they keep looking at each other in brief lulls and unhinged mirth would burble back up again like a newly tapped spring.

"Oh my god," Thomas whispered eventually, stomach sore. He was flat on his back, trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling until he thought he could go ten seconds without laughing. Silver seemed to be taking the same measures. In his peripheral vision Thomas could see him smiling and wiping his eyes.

Thomas counted to twenty and sat up to look over at James -- he was finally asleep, thank the saints. And not particularly pretty about it either, with his mouth open, his blankets wadded up again, and the last pillow somewhere other than on the mattress. Thomas let out a long breath, before going up on his knees to move over to the bed. He took the cloth off James's head and kissed him beside his eye. Satisfied James was in no further need of attention, he crawled to the pallet and laid back down.

Silver was curled on his side again, his gaze steady and soft. Thomas pulled their blanket up over both of them and closed his eyes.

James began to sing, off-key, "'Some cut their hats, and some cut their caps in the Neather-lands; some cut their hats, and some cut their caps in the Neather-lands, for to stop the salt-water gaps, sailing in the Low-lands...'"

It wasn't singing, per se. It was more like wallowing the words around in his mouth with a random Scottish accent.

"If he sings all forty verses, I'm leaving," Silver said, without opening his eyes.

Thomas sighed.

Five or six hours later he woke with Silver tucked up under his chin. It wasn't the first time Thomas had felt evidence of -- how had James put it? Silver's endowments? -- since the beds they often slept in were, after all, not very roomy. It was unfortunately too late for Thomas to will his body not to respond in kind.

Someone dropped something in the kitchen and Silver jerked awake. He looked at Thomas for a only a second before scrambling to sit up. They blearily helped each other up off the floor. When they stumbled into the kitchen together they found James sitting there at the table healthy as a stable of horses, eating buttered brown bread and a mug of tea steaming away beside his plate. Silver ran his hands over his face while Thomas tried to stand up straight, to the absolute screaming fury of his lower back.

"You look awful," James said.

"Your fever broke," Thomas said, like it wasn't obvious.

"Yes." James nodded and chewed. "I slept strangely well."

There was a long pause.

"Kill him now or have breakfast first?" Silver asked Thomas finally.

"We'll try some of the new quince preserves," Thomas said, "before we decide."

James was fighting every instinct to be angry, and Thomas felt a swell of pride for him.

"Were you ever going to fucking grace us with your presence again, or have these last four days been your way of telling us to go and never look back?" James asked Silver.

Well. James's instincts were a work in progress. At least his tone had been mild. Thomas, as he often did, elected to not put himself in the middle, if only because he wanted to watch what would happen next.

(Also, putting away clean clothes was perhaps the only household chore Thomas liked doing. There was something comforting about a tidy drawer of freshly laundered shirts.)

Silver, for his part, did not seem ruffled, though he did seem off, somehow, and not just because he'd been like a ghost for the better part of a week, since James's one night of sickness.

"I thought the two of you might enjoy some quality alone time," Silver said. It was his scratchy voice that gave him away. That and how heavily he sat down on the edge of the bed, as though too tired to argue with James standing up.

"Are you ill?" James immediately knelt in front of Silver, frowning, reaching out to touch Silver's forehead.

"It's just a fever," Silver said, shaking him off. "We've all had fevers."

"Recently, even," Thomas said. "Apologies for that." It seemed whatever he'd brought into the house was determined to meet all residents.

Silver was wan, his eyes glittering. "Ada's also had this, and four of her five children." He waved a hand around. "Everyone's survived, don't be alarmed. We closed the tavern tonight and posted notices that we're staying closed for a few days out of an abundance of caution." He took a breath as if three whole sentences had exhausted him. "As they say."

James's hands were fidgeting; the effort he made to not touch Silver made Thomas's throat ache. "Do you need anything? Have you eaten?"

Silver shook his head. "I'm going to sleep, and no doubt will be better in the morning."

There was something in his manner Thomas could not place, something more than illness.

James had noticed too. He stood up to move to the mattress beside Silver, an arm around him as he nosed at Silver's hair. Silver was shivering. If he'd consumed anything in the last few days it had been a poor effort. Thomas felt again that pang of remorse, that while at most he had tolerated the malady for a few hours, it had intensified as it passed from him to James, and now, it seemed, from James to Silver. Finished in the bureau Thomas pulled the bedroom door shut and went to stir the fire.

Silver had his eyes closed tightly and held himself stiff, as if to blot out everything and everyone.

"John," James said very gently, "look at me."

Thomas laid the poker atop the mantel. He caught James's eye and felt almost as badly for him as for Silver. When Silver opened his eyes Thomas perceived some battle of wills, but couldn't for anything explain why it was occurring. The way Silver looked at James was so vulnerable it didn't seem a mere fever should be its origin. A creeping cold ran down Thomas's back. James had alluded to things he believed Silver might have endured long ago. Avicenna, that great thinker, believed fevers were 'kindled in the heart' -- a fine phrase, Thomas thought, and what he knew of Silver's heart was at once vast and minute. But Thomas knew longing, and fear, when he saw it.

"Do you want us to stay with you tonight?" James asked Silver.

Every second ticking by before Silver nodded seemed an eternity. He's this wary of our intentions, Thomas thought, because life has taught him to be.

And what has life taught you, Lord Hamilton? Pleated in the shadows Thomas could almost imagine any number of nightmares lurking, growing, ghouls he did not wish to confront. His wrists itched as if still bound. He thought of some of the men he'd known in the asylum, or in Savannah, their skittish eyes and resigned postures, their lonesomeness worn like a moskered cloak; how fragile they had seemed when he touched them, and when in their grasps how desperate his own release had been. It was much easier to simply refuse the past entry into this room where he was no longer being harmed, where James was alive and with him, where Silver needed them and the rest of the world could not intrude.

Silver said, "You have started wringing your hands the way Flint does. Or perhaps he learned it from you." His ruined voice was somehow tender.

It took Thomas a long moment to be able to look away from those burning blue eyes. "Come," he said to Silver and James, "it's too chilly in here to linger atop the blankets."

An hour later he wanted to kick himself for such a statement. Silver was asleep in his usual dead to the world sort of way, half curled on James, and James was sweating. Thomas knew better than to laugh about it. He sat on the mattress and laid a wet cloth on the back of Silver's neck -- just moving his hair aside Thomas could tell his fever had intensified, heat wafting off him like a sunbeam -- and another one on James's forehead.

"Thank you," James whispered, before wiping his whole face. He handed the cloth back to Thomas. "He's getting worse. Suggestions? And don't say Woodruff."

"Not sure bloodletting is required yet." Thomas laid a hand on Silver's back. Through the thin shirt Silver was eerily warm. "We could carry him outside. Or prop him up in the kitchen; without a fire burning it's almost as bad in there as being outside."

"Mr. Hamilton just wants to rub snow in my hair again," Silver rasped, pressing his face against James's chest.

"Yes, Mr. Silver," Thomas agreed. "Sounds like a plan." He kept his hand on Silver's back. "We didn't mean to wake you."

"Yes, we did," James said, moving around so that his sternum was being pierced by Silver's chin at a slightly different point than it had been. "You fell asleep mid-sentence."

"Sorry," Silver said, and then he was asleep again.

James fell asleep soon afterwards; Thomas went to the brisk kitchen with a blanket and read for another hour, returning when the words started to swim around on the pages like leeches. He tiptoed into the bedroom to find James awake again and Silver restless. Thomas took the washcloths away to rinse them. When he returned, he sat on the edge of the bed and wiped Silver's wrists and palms with a freshly wet cloth.

Silver was talking like Thomas had been there the whole time. "Everything Flint told me, there on the island. It all would have come true, you know," he murmured to Thomas. He was looking up, or back, at some invisible distance that must have been floating above the bed in whatever waking dream he was in.

What did he tell you? Thomas wanted to ask, curiosity flaring in his mind like a Roman candle, but as soon as he thought it -- and without even looking at James -- he could guess the sort of things James might have said. He wiped Silver's forehead. James sat up and brought Silver with him, such that Silver roused a little as James resettled them both. Thomas presumed James would have something to say; apparently not. Silver swayed against him like there was a tropical breeze lulling him back to sleep. James had on his determined-not-to-cry face, looking at Thomas helplessly. Thomas laid the cloth aside and moved up the mattress to sit with his back to the headboard. For lack of anything useful to do he rubbed Silver between his shoulder blades, keeping his touch light as Silver gave off a distressing amount of heat. Silver hummed, more a sigh than a note, and reached back with his left hand to clutch at Thomas's thigh.

Silver said something into James's shirt.

"Hmm?" James asked, smoothing a hand down his arm.

"A tether," Silver said. Or at least that's what it sounded like he said. There was also a yawn in there.

Thomas didn't know what tethers had to do with anything, other than the obvious fact of the three of them in the bed like drowsy links in a chain, day by day bound more tightly together by more than close proximity. Silver was looking at James with one of those lost, unfocused expressions that made Thomas feel short of breath.

"I miss her," Silver said. "But."

"I know," James replied, kissing his forehead.

"But. She knew because I told her," Silver said, as though it explained anything, "it wasn't them. The crew. But later. I didn't tell her... Because it was her, or I thought it was her. I thought. She would be enough."

He looked over at Thomas, like this was a lucid conversation they were having. "You understand," Silver said. His eyes glimmered with fever.

Thomas felt a rush of empathy for Silver strong enough to make it hard to speak. "It was James all along," he told Silver, "wasn't it?"

Silver nodded, closed his eyes, pressed his face against James.

"It what? All along what?" James said, sounding comically disoriented.

"He's loved you a very long time," Thomas said to James quietly.

"Oh," James said, before ducking his face into Silver's hair.

"He hasn't, of course, loved you as long as I have," Thomas said. "But we cannot fault him for having not met you earlier."

James gazed at Thomas. He laid his hand at the juncture of Thomas's neck and shoulder; it provided a restful weight. Tethered, Thomas thought. Silver slept against James and James was touching Thomas and Thomas kept his hand, still, on Silver's back. Thomas also kept his eyes on James, with James sweeping his thumb against his collarbone and James's dimple about to show.

"What?" Thomas whispered, almost certain he knew what James was thinking.

James kept gazing, pleased, but said nothing. Thomas had never been a good liar. There was a heartbeat beneath his palm that he already knew he would miss when he took his hand away. They stayed that way until Thomas lost track of the time, and sleep pulled them all down into its depths again.

"Are you all right?" James kneaded the back of Thomas's neck and sat down beside him at the kitchen table.

Silver's fever had broken in the last few hours. Thomas and James were letting him sleep.

"I have been thinking about the staff at my father's house," Thomas said. He threaded his fingers through James's. "They were kind to me when I was a child. They were supposed to be kind to me, of course. I was an Important Legacy." He laughed a bitter little laugh. "But do you know, I believed they loved me. Even now, even knowing what I know -- how complicated, how compromised that love might have been. They were servants, most from families of servants. It's all they had ever known or hoped to know of employment or advancement. They took care of me, not just my nursemaid or tutors, but the footmen, the maids, cooks, our butler William. The gardener and his wife Maria." He squeezed James's hand and James squeezed back, watching him as he spoke. "It was a lousy lot they drew. The house was safe, they were given the means to earn what they needed to survive, yes, but it wasn't-- None of it was theirs, and they had no real say in the matter. And yet. And yet, I believe they loved me, taught me, fed me, played with me, smiled kindly at me not because I was the eldest son of an important man, but because I was a child, an innocent child. I have never known a day when I was not loved. I knew love when I saw it, experienced it." James looked as ready to cry as Thomas felt. "I knew you loved me, that Miranda loved me; that I loved you, and her. I never once doubted either of you, all those years."

James waited a minute. He thumbed a tear out from beneath Thomas's eye. "Why have you been thinking about this?"

Thomas pictured Silver asleep in their bed, eyelashes dark against his pale cheeks. "Someone hurt him, didn't they? When he was just a child. And it shaped his whole life."

He didn't say Silver's name. He didn't need to.

Thomas sighed in an elaborate way. "And then, god help him, he met you."

"Hey," James said. But he was smiling, small and rueful. He held on to Thomas's hand.

"I'm glad we're here," Thomas said.

Silver had recovered in another few days. He moved more gingerly for a while, like his bad leg ached more than usual, and he was slow to regain an appetite. Otherwise he emerged unscathed. James fussed over him, and Thomas chose to leave them alone on the fourth afternoon, hoping that like the fever James's anxious grouchiness would burn itself out before Silver had to throttle him.

Thomas explored a patch of forest nearby, where the ice had dwindled to only a few scabby patches here and there and the ground was damp but not sloppy. He worked up a sweat hiking back up a brambly hill and scraped his arm against a pine tree trunk that had appeared from nowhere. (Pay attention, Thomas told himself.) When he was back on the road to the house he took a couple of deep breaths of cold air and felt more awake than he had in an age.

He returned home to find James thankfully in a less fretful mood and Silver looking brighter, with color in his features.

"That poor higgler Jean tells us the Adley farm is to be sold next week," Silver said in greeting.

This was news to Thomas. "Ina will be interested in that."

"She wants a farm? Isn't she's 107 years old?" James asked.

"She's a woman of a distinguished age. I believe their son-in-law may have designs on becoming a land owner," Thomas said.

"Don't we all." James kept sharpening his favorite butcher knife.

"Apparently he's done well for himself in Sussex." Thomas picked up a new purchase that was sitting on the counter. "Was our other masher inadequate?"

"I took it to the tavern and never saw it again," Silver said.

"Ah." Thomas rolled up his shirt sleeve and poked at his scrape. It looked like the sort of thing a youth would acquire falling out of a tree.

Silver and James each seemed abruptly to notice Thomas was injured. There was purpose in the way Silver picked his way over to the hutch wedged in the corner of the room. Items rattled as he searched for something; he moved a crock to a lower shelf and reached up to the back of the top shelf. A pestle rolled out and bonked him in the head. James joined him, though Thomas was certain he had no idea what Silver was looking for. Being an inch or two taller should count for something, right?

"I almost have it," Silver said, refusing to move aside as James crowded in.

"Here," James said, reaching over him.

It didn't work as well as he'd probably expected, because it knocked Silver off balance and Silver briefly stepped on James's foot with his peg.

"Could you not," Silver said between gritted teeth.

"Ow," James said.

Thomas joked, "No daylight between you."

James whipped around.

"Same cloth, same coin, same blade. I couldn't separate the two of you with a hatchet and a team of wild oxen," Thomas said, feeling uneasily like this wasn't an exaggeration.

James took a breath to respond -- maybe even to deny? -- when Silver groused, "What are you on about? Ah-ha!" He turned, a ceramic jar held out in his palm. He was smiling in triumph.

Whatever he saw on Thomas's face made his smile fade. He locked eyes with Thomas and Thomas felt his stomach lift.

"I could no more separate the two of you," Silver said, tipping his head to Thomas and then to James, "than I could pluck the sun out of the fucking sky."

Thomas blinked. "What--"

"You're his heart, Thomas," Silver said.

The words, so softly spoken, crashed over Thomas like a storm-driven wave. His eyes burned, for a moment, as he looked at Silver, looked at James; as they looked at each other and then him. Watching Silver now as Silver stared back Thomas began to smile. He bit his lip to prevent it from getting out of hand.

"Would you like some help?" Silver asked, holding up the jar.

"What is that?" Thomas asked, sitting down in the chair James had vacated.

Silver pulled another chair closer to Thomas. James poured himself a drink of rum, splashing some in two more mugs. After clunking his mug against James's Silver downed his rum in one swallow. Thomas, eyeing James, sipped his. Something had shifted, Thomas thought; they were coming to a precipice.

He turned his focus to Silver. "It's green," he said when Silver took off the jar lid. "It even smells green."

"Elder leaves," Silver said. His small grin was crooked. "Well, four parts lard and two parts suet."

"So, fat and fat," Thomas said.

"To three parts elder. Good for sprains and bruises and grievances inflicted upon one's person." Silver scooted nearer.

Thomas pushed up his bloody sleeve and bent his arm, still watching Silver.

Silver dipped his fingers in the ointment and smoothed a glob of it gently up Thomas's arm. Thomas winced and Silver mouthed, "Sorry." He ran his fingers along the scrape several times, until the salve had started to soak in. He sat back to survey his handiwork. Finding it satisfactory, he dipped his left middle finger into the jar to bring out a dab.

He scooted ever closer, until like a puzzle piece his knees and Thomas's were somewhat interlocked. With the pad of his finger he patted at something below Thomas's eye.

Thomas placed a hand on Silver's shoulder. "Didn't realize there was another scratch." The ointment stung a bit. He remembered being smacked in the face with an oak limb earlier, at the beginning of the day's walk.

"Only a little one. You likely won't go blind from it." Silver wiped his hands on his trousers and put the lid back on the jar.

Thomas saw it when Silver realized just how closely to Thomas he was sitting. The light cleared in Silver's eyes; his mouth parted as he inhaled. Oh, Thomas thought. Hello. He tightened his hand, then skimmed it along Silver's shoulder to slip his fingers into Silver's hair. (Oh. Yes. It was still the most luxurious hair.) Thomas leaned further into Silver, drawing their heads closer together. Silver did not pull away.

"Thank you, Mr. Silver," Thomas said, quietly thrilling at the way Silver's eyes had darkened.

Silver smiled at him without actually smiling. "You're welcome, Mr. Hamilton." He paused for a second, then brushed his mouth against Thomas's, the touch so light it could almost have been mistaken for something other than a kiss.

What Thomas returned to Silver was a kiss equally light, brief, and again perhaps someone, had they wished to, could have described it as accidental, or incidental, or merely friendly. Careful, Thomas thought. You must be careful. He kept his forehead against Silver's for a moment, letting Silver decide, and their third kiss was quick, practically chaste. But the fourth one: Thomas suddenly had Silver's head cupped in his hands and Silver was pressing ever closer, opening to Thomas on an almost silent gasp. Thomas had to close his eyes against the sweetness of it. When he slid his tongue into his mouth Silver made a quiet, wounded sound, and Thomas flushed hot as if he'd awakened on an island beneath merciless sunshine. He hadn't felt his own thirst so acutely since the moment he'd first seen James again. Silver's seemed to match Thomas's; his mouth was nearly painfully soft, his beard rough, and one of his hands was wandering lower. By the time he reached Thomas's--

"I am going into the bedroom now," James said in a loud, impatient voice.

Thomas and Silver broke apart to stare at him and pant.

James's left eyebrow said some very tawdry things. "I trust you'll both be joining me."

"Yes?" Thomas said, feeling astonishingly overheated. He mustered the courage to look at Silver.

Silver looked every ounce as bothered. He also looked unguarded, and kiss-bitten. He nodded at Thomas and then looked to James. "Yes," he said. He looked back at Thomas. "Yes."

Thomas took two seconds to say, "Oh thank fuck," before kissing him again.

#my continual struggle with technology and coherency #fic #silverflint #silverflinthamilton #black sails

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