#I need Ashton to confront him about this

[awaytobeunshaken]

Orym grunts as Ashton’s fingers dig under his armor, lifting him off the ground and pinning him against a nearby tree. “This needs to fucking stop. Every damn fight we’re in anymore it’s like you’re fucking trying to get yourself killed.”

“I’m just… trying… to keep… everyone safe.”

“No, I’m trying to keep everyone safe.” And Ashton increases the pressure on Orym’s chest just a little. “And that’s a lot harder when the guy who’s supposed to be helping me with that has a fucking death wish.” They let Orym go, not fully releasing their hold until his feet are touching the ground, but not bothering to be gentle about the descent either.

“I dont… have…” he starts, rubbing the spot on his chest where Ashton’s knuckles had dug in. “You know what’s at stake here. I’m not trying to get killed. But I swore I would see this through, and I don’t think we can afford to hold back anymore.”

“You’re so fucking selfish.” Orym opens his mouth to protest but Ashton continues, “You know what it’s like to lose people. How can you be so casual about doing that to someone else?”

Orym stands to his full three foot three and drives a fist into Ashton’s thigh. “Fuck you. I lost everything that day. This isn’t the same and you know it.”

Ashton keeps his gaze fixed at his own eye level. “Yeah, and you’re so fucking sure of that, aren’t you?”

“Ash?” Orym swallows and looks up. “What…”

“Forget it. It’s not like I expect this to go anywhere, or need it to. But ‘seeing this through’ is gonna be a lot fucking harder if you’re not there with us. However you wanna take that.”

[ughkat]

hi! could you write calum x reader where calum has a crush on her and ashton exposes his crush on her during a live or something?

pls and thank u

i might do a part two of this idk 😳

-

crush | c.t.h

calum x fem!reader

part two here

got excited writing this sorry ab the lengthiness!

alcohol, swearing

not proofread

"I'm heading over right now."

"We'll be here.".

I finished my phone call to Ashton, who had just minutes ago invited me for a routine hangout with him and the other three boys.

My friendship with Ashton had sprouted prior to his band forming. We were best friends, some would describe as inseparable. Once joining the band, they immediately brought me in as well. Though never having the same connections as I did with Ashton with them, Calum, Luke and Michael never failed to make me feel at home.

Since then, we've grown up and blossomed into larger things in life, yet we still keep our bond close. Routine effortless hangouts and conversations on almost a daily has kept out growing friendships alive.

Recently, I had began to notice a shift in energy with Calum. I tried to think nothing of it, but the conversations began to get shorter, and his words for me grew small. He almost made me feel as if I did something wrong.

I gathered my belongings, checking my outfit before heading outside to my car, shivering at the cold weather. I dressed lazily in a large grey hoodie, along with black leggings and converse. I quickly turned on the heater after starting my car, and pulled put of the driveway.

I drove quietly as my mind wandered about confronting Calum for his change of mood towards me. I knew I was safe to bring up an issue to my friends, but I was concerned this was only a me problem.

My wandering mind passed the time quickly, arriving me to Ashton's apartment. I pulled slowly onto the curb in front of his apartment, sending off a quick "I'm here" text before exiting my car.

"Heyyy!" Ashton cheered goofily, raising his arms as he appeared from the front door. I giggled as I made my way up his driveway towards him. He reached an arm out for a quick hug as he spoke.

"How ya' doing?" He smiled, ushering me inside. I sighed dramatically.

"Could be better." I raised my eyebrows with defeat as I made my way inside. I set my bag and keys down on his kitchen counter which was decorated with various alcoholic beverages and snacks. I turned to the living room, being greeted by Calum, Luke and Michael at the couch. I watched as Calum's eyes quickly met mine, then shot back down to his hands.

"Well..." Ashton began, moving behind me swiftly, "Have a shot." He grinned, I turned to look at Ashton who had presented me with a small glass with a shot of mystery alcohol in it. The three boys from the living room shouted dramatic miscellaneous cheers and encouragements from behind me. I let out a laugh and reached for the drink. I looked at Ashton and shook my head laughing. With a shrug, I tossed my head back, taking my shot quickly. I scrunched my face briefly before frantically searching for a chaser.

"Give me a drink. I need a drink." I mumbled, shaking my head. Luke whistled from the couch with a laugh, holding out a Coke can. I hurried to the open drink and took a large swig.

"You didn't take that shot, that shot took you." Michael joked as I found my seat on the couch. I scoffed with furrowed eyebrows.

"Fuck off." I giggled. I glanced to Calum who had been awfully quiet. He was heavily focused on picking at a loose string on his t-shirt, faking an amused look on his face. I immediately noted his off mood. The boys continued whatever conversation they had before I arrived, laughing and cracking joke's beside me. I watched Calum carefully as he loosely followed their words, more in his own head than present with us. I decided to finally speak up.

"Cal." I chirped, snapping him out of his trance. His head perked up quickly as the room fell silent.

"Hm?" He raised an eyebrow, his eyes darted to everyone in the room nervously, then back to mine. I anxiously slouched back down at the unexpected and unnerving silence before speaking.

"Are you mad at me or something?" I questioned, keeping a cool tone. I watched from my peripheral as the boys eyes flashed to Calum. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he shook his head slowly.

"No..?" He muttered quietly. I bit the inside of me cheek and looked to the other boys, hoping one of them would agree with my observation of Calum's negative mood. Instead, they watched Calum like a bomb.

"You've been so quiet and weird with me lately. I know they see it too." I laughed anxiously, motioning to the boys. I widened my eyes at them, begging for some help. Calum looked to the boys, licking his lips anxiously.

"I-.." He began nervously, "I've just been feeling kinda off recently. I'm sorry." He stuttered nonchalantly, his eyes failing to connect with mine. "Kinda off?" I thought to myself, "Bad excuse.".

"I think he just means in the studio and such. We've all been pretty tired recently." Ashton jumped in quickly, glancing at Calum after speaking.

"Right." I replied, not buying whatever game they were trying to play.

We continued the night many hours into the early morning, as we normally would, we watched a few movies and ordered a bunch of junk food. Calum kept up his unusual behavior, trying his best to fake it, but I never let go of the thought that I would find out what was going on with him.

"You sure you don't wanna spend the night? It's late, and you've been drinking." Ashton offered as we walked to his front door. I gave him a hug and stepped outside.

"No, it's okay." I looked down to my phone, noting the time of 1:45 am. "I have work tomorrow and I'm okay to drive. My last drink was hours ago and all those snacks and fast food have taken over my veins." I groaned dramatically. Ashton giggled before nodding gently.

"I'll see you later." He patted my back and sent me down his driveway, watching me as I entered my car.

On my drive home, I was left unsatisfied with my confrontation with Calum. I thought our closeness would have led him to be more open, but he was so blatantly lying. Ashton obviously covering the lie for him only grew my suspicions more. My mind raced of the possibilities of what could be bothering the boy.

I lazily kicked off my shoes as I entered my apartment, tossing my keys of a small side table beside the door. Filled with junk from Ashton's house, I skipped my kitchen and headed straight for my bedroom.

I slipped out of my black leggings and hoodie, changing into a large shirt and underwear. As I tossed my laundry into the basket, my phone let off a ding on my bed. I flopped onto my bed, reaching for my phone and reading the notification. It read that the boys had started a live stream on twitch. I let out a giggle, amused at the boy's inability to rest. Clicking on the notification, I settled into my bed.

"We just saw each other 20 minutes ago!" Ashton cheered sarcastically from the livestream. I smiled at the faces on the screen.

"Hey, Y/n is here." Ashton chuckled, looking closer at the screen. I watched as the boys talked to the viewers of the stream and to each other, making jokes and messing with filters.

"Calum's sad cause Y/n yelled at him." Michael joked. Calum sent Michael a death glare, earning a chuckle from me.

"She didn't yell at me." Calum scoffed with a forced smile. I rolled my eyes sarcastically at his stubbornness, continuing to tune into the stream.

"He's sad cause he's in love with her." Ashton mumbled looking down to his phone, widening his eyes quickly and looking up at his screen after speaking, realizing what he had said.

"Dude." Calum spoke quietly. I narrowed my eyebrows at his words, him looking just as surprised as me. Ashton turned off his camera, followed by Calum, as if he had said something controversial. I put the speaker to my ear as the live suddenly fell quiet. Incoherent whispers came through before Ashton appeared again.

"Alright we'll see you guys later." Ashton forced a smile and a wave to the livestream before ending it abruptly. I stared at my empty screen in confusion, trying to make sense of Ashton's words. Did I hear him wrong? Was my phone glitching? I decided to play it cool and text Ashton calmly.

"Hey, why'd you end your live?"

I watched the three dots appear and disappear repeatedly before his message appeared.

"You should text Cal.".

[bartxnhood]

complete mess | a.f.i

ashton irwin x reader

summary: based on this request

warnings: mentions of bad relationships, alcohol, some language.

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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you stood alone, abandoned at the bar. lucas, your boyfriend, was nowhere to be seen. on the verge of tears, you began to feel very frustrated with his actions.

sure, you expected this from him, but on your birthday? did he not care about you at all? you looked over the sea of people, dancing, talking, drinking, and eating in an attempt to find your boyfriend but, nothing. your eyes landed on ashton, he saw the sadness in your eyes and knew.

this sadness has been lurking in your eyes for months now. no matter how badly you tried to hide it and put on a facade, ashton saw right through it.

you had become so insecure because of lucas, and ashton was tired of it. you deserved someone worth your time, you deserved someone who would look at you like you were the only thing good in this world. you deserved someone to treat you like you were the most delicate person on the face of the earth.

you deserved someone better.

he wished you wanted him.

to ashton, you were the best thing in his life. you had such a beautiful smile, the way you lit up as if he had done something stupid and you couldn’t help but laugh. you were the brightest star in the night sky. you made ashton a better person. and to see lucas belittle you, seeing you lose the light in your eyes, watching you slowly creep into a shell of made him angry. this wasn’t supposed to happen to you. not his y/n. not ashton best girl.

pushing past the crowd of people, peter was determined to be by your side. “y/n.” ashton emerged,. “ash” you sighed, feeling weight being lifted from your shoulders. “he left me.” you finally blurted, you felt a pang in your chest knowing tears would soon follow. ashton wrapped his arms around you, letting your head rest on his chest. “i know” he sighed, rubbing your back gingerly. “ash, your shirt” you huffed, looking up at him. afraid of ruining it with your makeup. “shh it’s fine” he shook his head, wiping away your tears with his callused thumb. he held you for a minute, but it felt like forever to you. “cmon, im taking you home.” he suggested, pulling away and reaching for your hand. “you don’t need to be here.” you nodded, following behind him and out the large doors.

exiting the building, ashton’s touch never left the small of your back. “he had no right to do that to you, y/n/n” he huffed. you knew he was upset, and so were you. thinking you could get over your feelings for ashton but you only got hurt in return.

oh, foolish heart.

you had been swooning after ashton since high school. always liked him from a distance, even if the two of you were the best of friends.

you weren’t good with confrontation, let alone rejection. because what if he rejected you? how could the two of you possibly stay friends after something like that?

but when you had got with lucas just a few years out of high school, ashton was the first to tell you his feelings.

even if it was a little too late.

“i can’t believe he would be that stupid to leave you alone. if i see him, i’m gonna-“ you were quick to grab his hand, cutting him off. “ash. don’t. just relax.”

ashton had accepted that lucas was your boyfriend but he’d still do everything he could to be in your life, as long as you were happy, he was happy. but seeing you so broken, and being used. he couldn’t let it continue.

“promise me something, y/n?” your eyes met with his. both of you stopping in your tracks. “end it with him. you don’t need someone like that in your life.”

“i will.”

ashton had suggested he take you back to his place, to avoid seeing lucas when he came back later that evening.

you sat on the edge of ashtons bed, still in your dress while ashton had gotten you some water and advil to help with your growing headache. your eyes stared out the window, the night illuminated by only the stars. “i brought you some extra clothes, in case you wanted to change.” he entered the room, some folded clothes in hand, and laid them next to you. your eyes followed him, “thank you.” he nodded, “it’s no problem” he shot you a sympathetic smile and handed you the medicine and bottle.

“you’re always saving me, ash. thank you” you sniffled as you took the two painkillers and downed them with a swig of water.

ashton only hummed, watching you take the clothes in hand and making your way to the bathroom.

and when you returned, ashton had changed as well. you tossed the blaxl dress on the floor and went back to ashton’s bed.

“feel better?” he looked up at you, only getting a shrug from you. “can you help me take my hair down? there’s a lot of pins” he patted the spot in front of him which you scooted over and he proceeded to pick the pins out of your hair. “you know” ashton started, “lucas has no idea what he’s missing out on.” you simply shrugged, you couldn’t stomach talking about him again.

“i don’t know what i was thinking, i thought i could get my mind off someone else, but i only got hurt worse. i’m so stupid” a dry laugh escapes your lips. ashton paused, now knowing why you had started dating lucas. but his shoulders dropped knowing you probably liked someone else. “stop. stop blaming yourself.” he hummed.

his scratchy voice sending chills down your spine. you only let your shoulders drop. looking down at your hands. soon enough he had gotten a majority of the pins out. and with that, you finally let your hair down letting up the stress on the scalp.

ashton got a whiff of the scent of your shampoo and he couldn’t help but look away. you still haven’t changed it all these years. that familiar floral smell filled his nostrils. it was still the same kind you used in high school, he wishes he could smell forever.

it was obvious you liked someone else. you discarded the hairpins, and sat next to ashton again. “if it wasn’t for you, i’d be so lost. i’m so glad you came into my life” you smiled sadly, and he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “you’ll always have me in your corner. id do anything for you, you know that.” you nodded. you did know, hell, if you didn’t have him you’d still be miserable. he was always there for you. no matter what.

you were now curled up on ashtons chest, your eyes still glued to the window. not saying anything, you thought he had fallen asleep by now. but when you looked up at him, he was looking down at you. “i thought you were asleep.” he laughed, a simple shake of his head. you smiled, the dim light of his lamp made his skin look so beautiful, the way his hair lay in his eyes, and how he looked at you. you could stare at him for ages.

you felt your heart beating, feeling as if it would beat out of your chest. you wondered if this was the moment you’d tell ashton how you felt for the past decade.

“what’s on your mind?” he asks softly, you hum. thinking if this was the right moment and if the words that were about to spill from your lips were a good idea. your eyes flicked from his hazel eyes to your fingers, picking at your cuticles.

“do you remember a while back when you confessed to me and i had just gotten with lucas?” you ask. when you look up you see him studying you. he nods slowly, “yeah?”.

you puff your cheeks then release the air, sighing. “i liked you too at the time, and i still..well..i love you. i was with lucas simply because i thought you didn’t like me like that..” you groaned quietly, realizing how stupid it sounded.

you saw his face contort, trying to process your words. you can’t seem to read his expression. he falls silent for a moment, replaying his confession over and over again. it was all making sense.

“ash?” you say, hoping he wouldn’t be so upset with you. “i wish you would’ve told me sooner..” he says, followed by a sigh. you frown, assuming you have missed your opportunity with your best friend.

“but..” he continued, “i still love you, y/n. i have since we were teenagers. i don’t think id ever be able to get over you. you have me wrapped around your finger and i’d do anything for you.”

you feel your heart racing, your cheeks flushed pink, and you feel like you were back in high school.

“ashton, will you kiss me?”

the brown-haired boy stared at you, hazel eyes wide. his lips parted, “did you just ask if i’d-“ “kiss me” you interrupted him. this time begging him. “please” you whispered. ashton sat up, his eyes not leaving yours once as he brought his hand to your cheek and then pressed his lips on yours ever so lightly. afraid he would hurt you in any way. his lips felt so soft against yours. pure bliss engulfed your body. this was what you imagined your kiss with ashton to be like. when he pulled away, eyes meeting with yours his cheeks were flushed. having such a huge crush on you, he never thought he would have this moment with you.

your hands on his neck, you leaned in again connecting your lips. this time this kiss was longer and more intimate. your hands tangled in his brown curls while he was resting on your lower back, occasionally pulling you in. when you pulled away, catching your breath you couldn’t help but stare at him. his hand ran over your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt as the two of you watched the other, breathing each other in. ashton’s smiles, his calloused thumb tracing your cheekbone. “you make me complete, y/n.”

maybe this birthday wasn’t so bad after all.

[kerosene-in-a-blender]

Clerics, Their Gods, and the Importance of Context

I mentioned this a bit in my tags on this post, but I feel like it's a complicated enough topic that it deserves its own post. Pelor and Avandra had wildly different responses to both being asked the question, "Are you worth saving?", but they also were asked these questions in wildly different contexts by clerics they have wildly different relationships with, and these differences had a massive effect on how each deity answered the question. Because they gave the same answer, ultimately, Pelor was just far more aggressive about it.

Pelor and Deanna have an at best chilly, at worst openly confrontational relationship at the best of times. She believes in his teachings, and she deeply believes in aiding and nurturing people, but her relationship with the god himself is fraught due in large part to the circumstances she found herself coming into his light in. They're able to coexist fairly well for the most part, but after she found out what went down at the temple in Hearthdell, Deanna's idea of doing what's best for people and Pelor's idea of doing what's best for people clashed, hard. When Deanna asked if followers of the Dawnfather were perpetuating harm in the world, he responded that they were doing what was necessary for the greater good of everyone. Pelor was focused on the good that could be carried out by his followers securing a nexus point; Deanna was focused on the smaller-scale harm that was being done to the people of Hearthdell in the process. And this is where their fraught relationship came to a head. She worships the Dawnfather and serves as his cleric because she believes in helping people, but in that moment, he didn't seem to be helping people, just some abstract concept of the greater good. So she asked him what she wanted to know from him in that moment: "If you refuse to help people, and in fact harm them because you exist, than what is the point of you, Are you worth saving?" And Pelor responded exactly one as would expect someone to respond to being asked that question in that way: he refused to even entertain the conversation. And in doing so answered "Are you worth saving?" with a resounding "Yes", because someone being worth saving does not require that they justify themselves to someone else.

In contrast, FCG and Avandra have a much more openly supportive, and most importantly for this topic, openly dialectic relationship. FCG has approached Avandra for guidance and understanding as they try and figure out how to navigate being a person with a soul who wants to have faith but isn't sure how to approach it. And as such they've asked questions of her such as: "Are you there?" and "Are you watching me?" both of which she's answered affirmatively in a way that reflects their growing faith in her. They've begun developing a relationship that, at least to me, resembles that of someone finding a trusted mentor to help them through a time of crisis in their life. At the same time as FCG's been developing his relationship with the Changebringer, he's also been well aware of Ludinus' plan to unleash Predathos; he knows the gods are in danger. And if there is one thing FCG truly loves doing, it's helping people. So he asks of this person he's building a new relationship with: "Do you need help?". Because if she does than FCG genuinely wants to help her. It's also important to note that FCG is the only member of Bells Hells who is pro-god in the sense of: "I have a full relationship with a specific deity and I don't want the gods killed because of that relationship". (The others are more pro-god in the sense of "Fuck Ludinus" and "The gods are a force of good in the world that would be lost if they were dead".) They had the Bells Hells vote on whether they were "Pro-God", "Anti-God", or "Undecided" (all being undecided except for the pro-gods FCG, and Ashton, who abstained) on the same day as the commune in which they asked Avandra, "Are you worth saving?" In the context of that, and them previously extending an offer of help to her, "Are you worth saving?" becomes less of a question of, "Justify to me why you should continue to exist", and more "Am I doing the right thing?". And because of the relationship they'd previously established and the goodwill FCG had built up with her, Avandra was able to calmly approach him and answer, "Of course." Of course she's worth saving, of course they're doing the right thing in championing for her.

When Deanna asked Pelor, "Are you worth saving?", she did so to challenge him, and with the implication that she had already come up with an answer in her head, and that answer was "No". When FCG asked Avandra, "Are you worth saving?", he did so seeking guidance and reassurance, and with the implication that they desperately wanted to the answer to be "Yes". And that really made all the difference in the tenor of answer that they received.

[lizablee]

Done Enough (Critical Role Fanfic)

Chapter 1

Ashton found Fresh Cut Grass gazing thoughtfully at the stream. The little Aeormaton shone in the dappled sunlight, their chassis as pristine as ever—a bit battered here and there, but whole. There was no trace of their final, violent confrontation with Otohan.

FCG noticed his approach and their lights brightened, a warm glow of recognition. Ashton had always been amused by how much emotion FCG could convey with their metallic face. He tried to match FCG's enthusiasm with a smile, but what emerged was more of a grimace. His heart was heavy, still weighed down by grief even as he looked at FCG’s intact form.

"Pretty. Not a bad place to escape," Ashton remarked stiffly, his eyes following a leaf floating down the sparkling stream. FCG's expression suddenly shifted to one of concern.

"Oh no, should I have stayed back? I can return to the others if they need me."

Ashton placed a heavy hand on FCG’s shoulder. "Sit. Stay."

"Alright," FCG replied, a hint of relief in their tone. They must have felt the exhaustion from everything that had transpired; Ashton felt it too, and he hadn't even died. He watched the leaf drift away over a small waterfall, letting out a deep sigh.

“That was truly the worst fucking day of my life,” Ashton muttered hoarsely, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the water. He knew FCG was observing him, probably contemplating how to help—as they always did. The memory of FCG’s shattered lenses and dangling jaw flashed through his mind, and he glanced over to ensure they were indeed intact. To his surprise, FCG was also staring intently at the stream.

“It was the only way, Ashton. The only way to save everyone,” FCG stated quietly.

Ashton struggled to hold back his frustration. “But it didn’t save everyone, did it? It killed you. You killed yourself .”

The Aeormaton shifted, discomfort apparent even in their mechanical demeanor. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t want to die.”

“I thought we were past this... I thought you were okay.”

“I was—I am okay. This wasn’t about self-worth. It was about saving you.”

Ashton’s anger flared. “I’m still angry with you.”

“I know. That’s okay too. I’d rather have your anger directed at me than—”

“Oh, I’m angry with myself too. I’m so damn angry.” Ashton’s voice grew harsher. FCG looked at him with sadness in their lenses.

“You did everything you could.”

“I could have been faster. Smarter. I could have hit her harder. Hitting hard—that’s all I can fucking do. But I failed, and you ended up dead. I’m not fucking okay with that.”

“We all nearly didn’t make it, Ashton. Not just me. I was losing myself; gods, I might have killed everyone if I had survived...” Ashton remembers Fearne’s numb recollection of FCG’s lights turning red in their final moments.

“Am I supposed to forgive myself just because everyone else failed too?” Ashton's voice was bitter, his heartache palpable.

FCG remained silent, giving him space. “I could use some damn therapy right now, Grass.”

“You’re right. You should talk to someone,” FCG suggested gently.

“Great. We’ll find someone in Jrusar.” Ashton stood abruptly and kicked at the stream, sending droplets flying into the air. The sediment swirled where his boot had disturbed the water.

“Jrusar?” FCG echoed.

“We’re leaving. You and I. The others can come if they want. We’ve done what we needed to here.”

“What about Predathos? Shouldn’t we—”

“Predathos is too much for us. We barely survived one of Ludinus’s lieutenants. Let the Tempest and her army handle it. They have the experience and strength. We’ve done enough.”

“What will you do?”

“What will we do,” Ashton corrected. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe take some jobs. There’s probably something left in the hole we could sell.”

“What about Aeor?”

“What ABOUT Aeor? It’ll still be there after the pros handle Ludinus. Maybe we’ll take a holiday there later.”

“I meant, what about the others. They’re planning to go to Aeor. Aren’t you going with them?”

“Hell no. You’ve already sacrificed enough for this cause. It’s time to let it go. If they want to come with us, fine. If it’s just you and me, that’s fine too.”

“Ashton, I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?!” Ashton’s voice cracked with frustration. “Why the FUCK not, FCG? Is this because of the Changebringer? She’ll use you until there’s nothing left! Forget about saving her!”

“It’s not about the Changebringer.”

“Then what? You want to sacrifice yourself again? I can’t—I can’t go through that again.” Ashton’s voice broke, a mix of anger and sorrow.

“I’m sorry, Ashton. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Let me save you this time. Please. You’ve done enough.”

“You know why I can’t do that.”

Ashton stared at FCG, noticing their lenses glowing brighter, glowing white . FCG reached out, pointing behind him. A sense of dread filled him.

“What is it?”

FCG remained silent, and Ashton grabbed their shoulders. “Tell me what’s happening. What’s happening to you?”

A divine light burst forth behind Ashton. He gasped and turned, instinctively reaching for his hammer, only to see dark, ruddy stone and a glimmering coin wedged next to an entryway. A sinking feeling overwhelmed him.

All he could hear was his own heartbeat and ragged breathing. Darkness closed in, leaving only a sliver of vision. He knew what he would see if he turned around.

He turned.

Gasping, Ashton woke from the dream, his body covered in sweat. Only the embers of a dying fire and the stars cast light around him. He spun, counting the bedrolls of his companions with a trembling hand.

Chetney. Fearne. Imogen and Laudna. Orym, perched in the tree.

No gleam of metal or glass. No soft glow of a gemstone or lens.

They were gone.

Ashton lay back down, buried his face in his hands, and wept.

[arclundarchivist]

Man I love Orym so much. He’s scared and he’s uncertain but he’s still believing he’s still got that tiny bit of hope. He offers his prayers, refusing to give into the slow death of “accepting a new normal”. Bonding with the spirits, acknowledging the good of the gods. He sees the truth of the world. There is good and beauty in the dark times, and that is what you need to fight for. This world isn’t fair, but at the same time it’s pretty good a lot of the time.

And then you have Bor’Dor calling him a “fucking idiot.”

Change is coming to Exandria, that is clear, I do believe at least some of the Gods are going to go.

But I do hope there is a bright light on the eventual horizon.

And I don’t trust that gangly “Shepard” at all. He gets so randomly intense and confrontational at very specific times, and then switches back to not having a full understanding of things. I don’t know what to make of him but I know I don’t trust him at this moment in time.

Prism is such a sweetheart and it’s been fun watching her and Ashton bond. I’m also truly wondering what will come of Ashton’s delving into his elemental side. I do hope something will come out of it.

Laudna/Marisha why you gotta do the Imodna shippers like that.

And uh folks, I don’t think their getting that teleport.

Like what is this?! A giant hunk of Residuum with a human shaped whole in the middle? Creepy smiling face on the ceiling?

Within the Verdant Tomb, we Keep her Spirit Enduring.

Who is her?! Is this Hishari? Is it other Titans shit?? I joked about Melora actually starting as a Titan, could I have done an Apollo???

But then again, this is largely Earth-based, and wasn’t the Titan Ka’Mort, the Empress of Earth? I have a FEAR.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Sweet Dreams--Part 9

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted. 

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

CW: Smut (dry humping) in this part. Mentions of using sex to numb feelings. Please read with caution and skip if need be.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

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There are certain messages Calum’s used to seeing--ones about meetings that have gotten pushed back, good morning texts from you, one from his parents about some sort of article they came across and wanted to send to him, thinking it would be good for him. There’s the texts from Michael or Luke or Ashton about bullshit--videos, memes, a bad selfie in their thread. There’s the text messages about a cute dog or cat that someone’s spotted in public. Then there are text messages that Calum is not prepared for. Ones that he hopes he never gets accustomed to receiving, that are bearing the bad news. 

However, seeing, If I asked to borrow the back garden or some kind of back yard area to tie dye socks, would that be an immediate no? is the type of text that Calum thinks he would never want to brace himself for. There would be no fun in being prepared for spontaneity. Calum laughs, dragging the towel over his face to wipe away some of the sweat pouring from his hairline. Even with the heat of the summer fading, the long hours on the weekend with the shed still causes a sweat to break out. 

Yes, you could use whatever you needed, baby. 

Excellent, because I may already be here. Are you working on the shed?

Calum taps the icon for a call. It rings, once then twice against his ear. “Hi, love,” you answer. The pet name never fails to send a jolt of desire down his spine. You always say it so softly, like you’re trying to savor the taste of every syllable on your tongue. Sometimes, Calum’s tempted to ask what it tastes like. Does it taste sweet like cotton candy when he calls you baby?

“Hi, baby. Now what is this about needing to dye some socks?

“Charlie wants tie dye socks. The ones in the store don’t have color combinations that he likes. I’ve got some dye from when I had to recolor some shirts that were starting to fade and helping roommates out with stuff. The apartment’s been overtaken because Josie’s invited friends over, which I knew would be happening so it’s not a problem. But I know I have free time and can’t sit still to save my life. You don’t have to say it. Hence why I’m asking to borrow space for a little bit.”

“There’s always space here. Do you need help setting up somewhere? Put you closer to the laundry room--wouldn’t you need that for dying?”

“Yes, I should say, the socks would have to stay there for at least today and then if I could stay the night, I’d rinse them in the morning and take them with me.”

Calum nods, though you can’t see it. “Yeah, that’s okay. Whatever you need.”

Faintly in the background, voices arise from your side of the phone. “You’re supposed to be gone. You can’t tease us like this,” someone hollers. 

Calum just makes out the words but catches your laughter as you respond, “I am a ghost. You do not see me.”

“That’s it, I’m dead. Dead,” the person laughs. 

“Are you still using the service entrance? I have let the guards at the main entrances know about you. You literally can just walk into the front door,” Calum states through his laughter. 

“If I’m honest, my brain just went on autopilot mode and hadn’t realized I’d missed the turn for the main entrance until I was already past it.”

“Habit, huh?”

“You know they say they die hard.”

“It’s alright. Next time, you’ll get it. I’m shocked the codes are still the same for you.”

“I don’t think it’s been deactivated yet. Part of me wonders if Janet’s ever going to deactivate it.”

“She may not.” It shouldn’t shock Calum if Janet decided not too. Though, he does think it might be a tough sale to security. They could win the battle if need be, but Calum worries about that for another day--should it ever come up. “But what do you need for this tie dying venture? A table or something, I’m sure.”

“I can get all that, don’t worry.”

“You sure? At least let me get you a table out from storage, baby.” Calum figures that it might be a mute point, that you might already have the table, but he’s still going to offer. The last thing he’ll do is not attempt to help. After throwing a quick warning back over his shoulder to the guys assisting him, he starts towards the doors. He doubts he can beat you to wherever you’re headed if it’s not directly outside. 

“You’d have to come all the way through the back when I’m already inside to grab it,” you counter. 

You are right. The curse to the size of the castle and its grounds is that sometimes it’s much too big for its own good. Getting anywhere in the residential wing is a bit of a chore--long hallways, limited number of doors. Calum’s sure it’s all due to safety, someone somewhere had a reason for the pain, but that’s not going to stop Calum from trying. Not when he knows it’s for your brother. The last thing he wants to do is get in the way of that relationship. 

“I can at least try,” Calum quips back. He’s never considered himself a track star, but he’s glad for the years he did football. 

“Don’t wind yourself out, love.”

“Is that a challenge I hear?”

Your laughter echoes, skips for just a moment but then your voice filters back in through the speakers. “I wouldn’t dare dream of such a thing. But seriously, I’ve already got a table. You better turn yourself back around.”

Calum continues on, just as he gets to the door, a bit more huffy than he would ever like to admit, he spies you rounding the corner from the hallway storage is on. “Hi baby,” he calls out once you make it closer to him.  

“You’re hardheaded, you know?”

“Only….everyday though.”

You pause in the doorway, table in your grip--it’s a smaller one, but taller so you don’t have to bend down so much with it. “Yet, somehow, I still find myself attracted to it.”

“It’s the boyish charm. Need anything else?”

“Boyish charm,” you laugh, leaning into him a little. “We can call it that.”

Calum meets you, a quick kiss before you continue on through the door he’s holding open. It’s a silly thought, Calum tells himself, as he watches you carry on through the garden. You’re careful as you go, keeping the table a good six inches away from the ground as you go. But something does feel a little different. Your smiles at him melt a little bit more, feel a little bit warmer than before. To see you comfortable enough to ask for a kiss--even a peck as it was--in public made his stomach flutter yesterday. 

The party was about you, so Calum withheld any conversation about it. The thing his parents did teach him was to be mindful of the time and place in addressing certain conversations. But for you to think, well before asking, that the castle would be free to you feels like further confirmation. You are changing, or maybe it’s a bit more like you’re unraveling. Though you and Calum walked in the early stages, you’d never mentioned your siblings. Now with that bit of information revealed Calum seems just how much you care about them--enough to dye socks so they have what they want. 

He can’t say much about your dating life prior. He assumes you might’ve had some experience prior. Calum can say for certainty that building the relationship with him has been slow with you. Worry and concern are the biggest culprits for that. But that seems to be falling slowly to the wayside. Calum won’t take any credit for this. He just watches, carries with him the tiny pieces of how you’d opened up. He does not consider himself a poet; he’s much too meticulous with when and how he shares anything. But if love is watching someone blossom into something more magnificent than they’d ever been before, then he thinks he’d ought to give it a shot to capture the feeling of being witness to it. It’s pride without arrogance, awe without jealousy. An emotion sure pure he’s sure he’s never felt it once since he left his childhood. But he feels it now, watching you pause at tomato plants. 

If all Calum gets to do is watch you grow and evolve, then it will still be a life well lived. 

“You’ll let flies in, Your Highness,” Janet teases passing back the doors. 

“Just put me on fly duty,” Calum laughs, but does move to let the door close behind him. There’s no embarrassment as Calum catches up behind you at being caught staring. “See anything else ready to be picked?”

“Oh, that’s still well beyond my wheelhouse. But I don’t think so.”

“You know more than me.” Calum means it sincerely. That you do know more about the garden than he does. But he thinks too that there’s a kind of life that you’ve lived that Calum had only once thought would be his. It’s a great honor to serve, take on his duty as expected. But there’s a little bit of life, a certain kind of living that he’d never really do. There’s a certain kind of wisdom he didn’t have. Not that Calum would ever want to romanticize your struggle and your suffering. But he knows that your experience gives you a perspective different than his--a perspective that Calum’s glad you’re willing to share with him. 

“I’m sure your mother could teach both of us a thing or two about gardening. How’s the shed coming along?”

The new one fades out of view, leaving the current restoration project bare in front of the two of you as you walk closer to it. “It’s going,” Calum returns. “There’s some shelving we’re working on now and the bench. A little behind schedule, but we anticipated that much from the start.”

“Looks good though. A fresh coat of paint?”

It’s the same blue as before, just not chipping anymore. “Yeah, a little birdie suggested it.”

“One smart bird.”

Calum helps you get set up--from getting the table stable to getting the dye into the more appropriate squeezable bottles, and once you’ve sworn up and down at least three times that you’ve got it from there, he ventures back over to the shed. The group doesn’t say much, but the smiles passed around them tell Calum everything he needs to do. He’ll never live this down. 

“It’s not a crime to be in love,” he laughs. 

“No one said it was. But to think, the same man just a year ago was swearing off love now following his partner like a puppy--it’s quite the sight,” Vance returns, looking up from his measuring where he works on the last few pieces of the built-in bench before they’ll start installing it. Getting power to the shed set them back longer than anticipated and when Vance’s gout flared, there were a few days that a lot of the light work went into place--like the painting and verifying the shelving design. This weekend is hopefully one of the last two big pushes to get the main structures in place. From there Calum will work on getting the table ordered, chairs, and the final furnishings. 

“I guess a lot changes in a year,” Calum answers. 

“I guess it does. Now c’mon lover boy, you’ve got a bench to install.”

It’s easy to get lost in the pop of the staple gun, in the measuring and re-measuring. Calum finds himself waiting for the click of each piece slotting in together; it’s a satisfying sound. It doesn’t take too long with Vance’s help to get the skeleton of the bench installed. Though it does take a little bit of finesse to get the paneling up over the skeleton. By the time the sun starts to dip just a hair down in the sky, but not quite touching the horizon, the bench is fully nearly assembled. The top isn’t bolted in yet and won’t be until the cushion is fashioned to the top, so the lid is resting on the structure for the time being. 

“Give it a test,” Vance suggests. “Make sure it’s up there sturdy.”

Calum’s weight seems to make no difference to the unit. There’s no creaks, no sagging. With a bit more courage, Calum swings his legs up and stretches out over the item. His feet hang off just a little, but that’s little to be concerned about. Given the space of the shed in total square feet, there was no way to make the bench as tall as him. But it’s solid beneath them. 

“It’s good,” Calum states, pushing up from the bench. 

“You’ll need these for tomorrow,” Vance calls out, pulling out a bag of metal hardware from his belt. Calum catches it with ease and notices the black hinges and screws assembled into the bag. Tomorrow Tamara comes by to help get the bench upholstered, though Calum suspects she’s always going to want to get Calum to finish buying the furnishings tomorrow too. Vance is taking the day to spend with his wife for their anniversary so it’s nice to be able to switch off to other aspects in the meantime. 

“Have fun tomorrow.” The guys laugh just a little at Calum’s statement. Even though Vance called Calum out about Calum’s own behavior, Vance was just as guilty. Every chirp of Vance’s phone made him pause to see if it was his wife. Albeit, Calum suspects there’s more going on at home over the last few weeks. Vance was talking more and more now about wanting to be a dad. It’s not his place to put out information that wasn’t ready, but Calum holds the suspicion close to his chest. 

Vance flips them off but his own laughter bubbles. “Your minds are absolutely in the fucking gutter, man. 

“Might be, but we already know exactly what’s going to happen tonight,” Parker pipes in from the opened door of the shed. 

“And you can’t even get your dick wet, so I don’t want to hear it,” Vance huffs. 

Parker was behind Calum in age by about a year and a half, but the two of them shared more in common than initially suspected. Parker’s highschool sweetheart hadn’t called it off before leaving for college. It left Parker behind, his family unable to afford the costs. Parker had taken courses with the community college before moving to vocational school to learn welding and HVAC. According to Parker, he’d gone for a trade so that he could have money saved up for a wedding when his love returned. Yet, Parker was left heartbroken instead. Parker’s partner returned for spring break of his sophomore year and called it off, admitting to emotional cheating. Not necessarily out of a desire to hurt Parker but out of loneliness, being on campus by himself and having a hard time in the first semester making friends because he was so homesick. It happened slowly--just as a friendship, someone to confide in about loneliness, hangout on the weekends and show him around the strange new town. But it was becoming clearer more and more as time went that there was someone else to Parker.  Calum, over a few beers, had gotten the story in the initial days of renovations. 

That was five years ago, but Parker hadn’t found anyone else. Not for the lack of trying. Parker always seemed to have a string of dates, stories to tell about who he was seeing, but they rotated out nearly weekly. Each weekend meeting for the renovations started with a hot gossip hour--Parker’s latest string of dates, Vance’s home life about his wife and two dogs, Tamara occasionally joining with stories of her dating life, Logan chimed in with updates about his new partner too, and Calum always carried up the rear in their circle. But Parker is the one that Calum worries about sometimes--the way he laughs at the jokes the other cracks but it sounds a little bit like it’s being forced. 

“Hey, at least he’s trying,” Calum interjects between the laughter. 

Parker is a decent guy, but possibly still too scorned from his first love to really let anyone in. Calum can’t say he doesn't get it. It’s a shitty box to be in, to know that you have so much love to give but someone hurting you so deeply that it makes you want to hide that love away. Whether or not the pain was caused intentionally never really undoes the fact that it cuts so deeply. 

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve got the stories to back up his efforts,” Vance agrees easily. “Soon, he’ll settle down with a good guy. I know he will. But I think we’re at a good stopping point for today, yeah?”

The lot agrees. Calum takes survey of the progress--Logan and Paul have been working on the shelves while Calum and Vance focused on the bench.  Only the foundations and arches of the unit exist based on the work done today. But it did take a little trial and error to get the arches to match. It’s clear though the shape it’s taking on. Once all the shelves are in and attached, they’ll paint it. Thankfully the paneling for the bench is a dark brown and matches the color for the rest of the furniture so there’s little to do in terms of staining the unit. 

The wood and tools are all moved inside. Though Calum’s positive there’s no rain in the forecast, he knows that could change on a dime. Rather than trying to replace expensive equipment, he houses it inside of the shed now that the roof is fixed. The guys give their goodbyes as Calum turns the key on the bolt to lock the doors. Everyone on the project has a key should any one of them get here before the others, but Calum’s most often the first one there and the last one to leave. 

“Thanks for that,” Parker states. Calum looks to his left, a little startled that Parker was still around. “For sticking up to Vance like that. I know he doesn’t mean any harm with those jokes, but they do get a little old. So I just wanted to say I appreciate you saying something.”

“Of course, man. Anytime,” Calum returns. “I get it. You know that.”

Parker’s nod is soft. “Yeah, I do. But still, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow for a couple hours at least. I don’t think we’ve got much left to do now.”

“No, it is shaping up nicely. I still appreciate your help with all this. Even though this is pretty far from HVAC.”

Parker laughs. “Yeah, yeah, it’s not exactly the ports on an AC unit, but I’ve got a few more skills than that too. Have a great night.”

“You too,” Calum calls out as Parker heads back for the doors. 

Calum’s not sure why he expects that you’re still working on the socks. But all he finds instead is the empty spot that you once had a station up at. There’s not even indentations in the grace to show where you stood. 

“Done already?”

Calum spins to see you walking out from where the new shed stands. “I was wondering where you’d gone,” he laughs, though his heart is still thundering in his chest. 

“Joy asked for a spare hand.” Looking down, Calum can see the patch on your knees from the grass. Maybe not quite a full on stain, but it’s clear where you’d been working with the dirt too with the dark brown spots. 

“You want to borrow something of mine and I do need to do laundry once we get back from drinks, I can throw everything in at once.” 

“A shirt at the least. I think I have some spare pants in your room and I do have an overnight bag too.”

Calum nods, reaching out for your hand. He tries to remember if you do. He knows you took most of the stuff out a couple weeks ago, but he can’t recall if you came back with anything more. You could’ve and the time’s just slipped from his memory. But the trek back instead passes in an exchange about the work done--there’s a pause at the laundry on the first floor for Calum to take in the sight of the socks still contained away to allow the dye to set and settle into the fibers. 

“They look good,” Calum compliments with a squeeze to your hand. 

“Thanks, tomorrow’s the true test to see how the colors did.”

“I’m sure they’ll turn out well.” The two of you continue on up to Calum’s room. The squeak of your shoes as you two climb the stairs. Though the elevators are a faster way up, you head for the stairs and Calum follows behind. But it is a relief to hit the residential hallways. The work from earlier and Calum’s earlier work out are catching up with the burn of the stairs. The echo of slightly labored breathing softens as the two of you push closer and closer to his room. 

“We’re never taking those stairs again,” Calum huffs, pushing his door open for you to enter through. 

“You might not, but I think I’ll take them again.” Your own retort is stuttered as your breath comes and goes with big inhales and exhales. 

“Yeah, right,” Calum laughs, shuffling past you as you paused at his drawers. On your side of the bed, resting on the floor, is the bag you mentioned earlier. It’s a silent shuffle in the room, the opening and closing of drawers, the zipper being opened to your bag. 

“Do you want to shower first?” Calum offers. He’s still contemplating what to wear but given your ease to pull his yellow button down out from the closet and your fresh jeans from the drawer, you seem to have him beat. Though time’s not really an issue, Calum isn’t fond of being late when not necessary. 

“Do you want help and we can shower together? You know, saving water and what not?” you laugh, slipping behind him. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re suggesting something there,” he teases. 

“Do you trust me?” It’s a soft question. 

“I do.” It’s an easy answer to an easy question. 

“Then trust it’s nothing more than that. I just wanted to be close to you is all.”

That--that’s the kind of confession that makes Calum’s toes curl. “Then please help before we are half an hour late because I can’t decide.”

You press a kiss to his shoulder, though Calum’s sure he’s covered in sawdust and sweat--the conway studio’s T-shirt he’d gotten from Michael as a gift when Michael worked there for an artist on their debut album is a little unforgiving in some areas with the sweatstains that show up. “Of course. Where’s your casual meter? How do you normally meet the boys?”

“It never matters that much, if I’m honest,” Calum returns. Your arms wind around his midsection and Calum’s hold on the hangers slackens so that he can trace over the skin of your forearm with the tips of his fingers. 

Your hum vibrates your shoulder but you tap his stomach before pulling away. Calum watches you shuffle back over to his drawers. You browse through the drawer only for a moment or two before unearthing a t-shirt, white with red trim at the neck and sleeves. His taste tester t-shirt. “We can start here,” you offer. 

It doesn’t sound like a full on question, but there’s just enough lilt in the tone that Calum reassures you with a nod. He pushes his shirts off to one side of the closet before focusing on his bottoms. There’s some comfort when you’re next to him, watching over his shoulder at the selections. It’s less about the clothes and more about the fact that Calum wants you to know he needs you, cares about having you there for even the little things. Passing on his black jeans, Calum settles for some black trousers. You pick a black belt with a big silver Western buckle to top it off. 

“Looks good to me,” Calum affirms. 

“Well, let’s giddy up cowboy.” It falls with a teasing laugh, but Calum wouldn’t take it any other way. 

The water is warm, hitting nearly like mist over Calum’s shoulder until he gets just enough water to get the pressure right. Once the shower roars, he lets you into the stream first. You only take a moment to get your face wet before you’re moving for his shampoo. 

“Is there something in my hair?” he asks. There wasn’t any checking in the mirror before getting into the shower, which might’ve been his first mistake. 

“Yeah, there’s some dust.”

“I can do it,” Calum comments, reaching out for the bottle, but you tuck it behind your back. This shower though it comfortably fits the two of you is not the best place to attempt to out muscle someone. Calum soaks his hair and turns as you direct him. The friction of your fingertips over Calum’s scalp is firm but not overbearing. It’s enough to make his eyes flutter close as you work. The kind of tenderness and care that makes his innards melt. So lost in the sensation, Calum nearly misses your directive for him to rinse the shampoo. Your work is swift to comb the conditioner through. 

Calum goes to rinse it when you’re done, but you catch him by his elbow. “Not so fast,” you laugh. “Let it sit for another minute. Scooch to where I am.”

“I’ve never let my conditioner sit this long before,” Calum returns, but lets you stand in front of the stream from the shower head. 

“And you’ll thank me later when you see the difference another minute or two makes,” you laugh. Calum can only watch. The water dripping down over your skin traces every line, every divot. Calum is no artist but he’d carve you into stone like the water is doing--highlight tautness of your muscles as you flex them, carrying over the curve of your butt. You are art work in a way that Calum thinks he understands finally the need to capture it in something so permanent. He knows he’d like to take his time to get every detail right. His memory is fallible. It’ll fail him eventually, but if he carved you into marble he’d always be able to remember the scars, the mole; every cell would hold to eternity in the rock. 

“You can rinse now,” you direct after letting the water wash away the soap from your legs after your final scrub down of them. 

Calum rubs his styling pomade over his palms--post shower and dressed, the only final touches are his hair. The extra time with the conditioner did soften it a little bit more than he’s used to this being. But that was information he was willing to give out easily. Though as he slips his fingers through his hair to hold the work of the blow dryer down, he is impressed. You watch from behind, fastening the button on your jeans into place. 

“You don’t have to admit it, but your face says it all,” you laugh. 

“Shut up. You don’t get to be right all the time,” Calum huffs. He wants to keep it together, be able to deliver the sarcasm with a straight face, but he ultimately cracks. His smile lifts his cheeks and he giggles when you shake your head at the antic. 

“I’m only right some of the time,” you answer. 

“Some, all, it’s all the same difference. Is Teagan okay by the way? You mentioned yesterday being worried about her.”

“I hope so. I really hope so. I don’t--I don’t want to assume anything right now, so it might be just a one off thing.”

“Well, I’m here for you and her. When you’re ready to say more just let me know. If there’s anything I can do in the meantime, just let me know too.” It’s clear the way you waltz around what happened that you don’t really want to say too much about it. Though it does make a small batch of worry stir in Calum’s stomach, he’s not going to force you to discuss something you’re not ready to discuss. He hopes it’s nothing. Hopes that maybe this is extra fret for ultimately nothing. But in the event that’s it’s more, he knows he’ll do whatever he needs to help you out. 

“Thanks, love. I appreciate it.” Your arms slip under his and you smooth a small fly away. “Ready?”

“Born ready.”

Calum’s quick to direct you to the elevators on the way down to his car. He can still feel the slight quake in his thighs from the effort earlier when he squats down to get into the driver seat. It doesn’t help that just a couple days ago it was leg day in his gym routine. Yet, each time he forgets how long the recovery is from the torturous routine. The radio turns out immediately from the last time he was in the car, but Calum lowers the volume just a smidge. 

“Is there anything I should know before meeting your friends? Any subjects off limits?” you ask after a few minutes of being on the road. 

“You already know that Michael’s a producer. Luke’s got his hand in music, solo work. Ashton’s got jobs on jobs. Between his work to start a wellness app, he’s got a candle company. He’s working with Luke I think on some instrumental music. But they’re a cool group. Micheal’s married. Luke’s engaged. Ashton’s newly single so that might be a little bit of a tough spot, but if I’m honest, Violet wasn’t good for him so none of the guys are that torn up about her. We’re there for Ashton of course.”

“So a politician, a producer, a singer, and a hippie walk into a bar,” you start and Calum snorts. “And one of them says to the bartender, I need a drink that’ll help me through the day I’ve just had, with no major side effects and if I saw purple elephant at the end of the cup I wouldn’t be that made either, can you guess who ordered?”

“It was a group order,” Calum returns. 

“Correct.”

“And I wouldn’t say Ashton’s a hippie. He’d gotten into school on some scholarships, dude’s practically a whizz, but definitely tends to lean more spiritual and philosophical than not.”

“I’ll give him a fair shake, promise. It’s just--wellness app? Do you know the focus of it?”

Calum hadn’t gotten all the specifics. Ashton mentioned it during one of their last hangouts and by the time that it really sunk in what Ashton was doing, the conversation gravitated to something else--there were jokes, teases, and before Calum could digest in his slight alcoholic haze the idea, the topic was long lost. 

“We’ll find out more today I’m pretty sure though. He can go a mile a minute if you let him.”

“I’m excited to meet them then. See what kind of mischief you get up to.” Though Calum wouldn’t call it mischief himself, he’s excited too. 

____________________________________

The thing about first impressions is that you’ll never know if you’re landing them well. There are no do overs. Only ever grace and more grace. But as you follow the half step behind Calum into the bar, you’re hoping you won’t need too much grace. It’s not packed for a Saturday, not yet anyway. Though you think that it might be too early to make such judgment at only 8 in the evening. The night is still young and you’re sure that as the hours crept by more and more people would crop up. 

“Calum!” 

You hear the voice before you spot two men waving with grins on their face. They sit next to each other at the table for what appears to be situated for six. One has blond hair that faintly curls at the top. The other man has a shaggier cut with pink dyed ends underneath a beanie. Calum laughs as he greets them, hugs and pats on the back. They reach out for you too, unphased by your addition to the outing. The man with the beanie introduces himself as Michael and faintly curly haired blond introduces himself as Luke. 

Calum doubles down on such introductions, clearly missing the quiet exchanges but no one corrects him before you two settle down opposite of Michael and Luke. Calum pulls out your chair and you cut your eyes up with a soft smile. “Don’t,” Calum commands with a laugh. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Are you telling me he’s not pulling your chair out all the time? I raised you better than this,” Michael jokes. 

“I am a gentleman,” Calum counters, “at all times.”

Luke joins in on the ragging with a tsk falling into the air from the suck of his teeth. “Then tell me why I don’t believe you, son. Just doesn’t seem right over here.”

The banter falls between them easily. You know it’s the years, all the time they spent together. And just as quickly as it starts, it stops even though Calum squawks to your left that he is the picture perfect partner to you. “Yeah, but we’ve learned not to trust you.” Michael turns to you at the end of the sentence. “So, let’s hear your thoughts. On a scale of zero to ten where is Calum falling on being a gentleman? Pretend he isn’t here. Which I know is hard since he’s so loud right now,” Michael cuts in over Calum’s muttered huffs. 

You ponder the question, even as Calum slips his hand into yours, sliding a menu left behind closer to you, though one’s right in front of you. “Eight and a half. But he’s closing in on the 9.”

“I’d ask when I haven’t been a gentleman, but I fear the answer,” he snorts. 

“I have to give you room to grow. Don’t want you to get too comfortable,” you tease. 

Michael’s laughter echoes, even in the thump of the bass overhead. You hear his crackle. “I like you already. I’ve heard through the grapevine though that you’re starting a new job Monday?”

“Would the grapevine be about 6’2?” you ask. “But yes, Monday is my first day.”

“Are you nervous at all?” Luke questions. 

You shrug, playing at the corner of the menu Calum slid your way. “A job’s a job. The people seem nice so far, so not terribly nervous. I’m a bit more used to first days at new jobs though,” you answer. From what you gathered, there’s a strong likelihood that they don’t share a background like yours. You could be wrong of course. But given what they’re doing now, you’re not sure what kind of background they could have. 

“Sorry I’m late,” a scruffier voice calls out. “Sup, Cal.” They laugh and you look up over your shoulder to a man with almost shoulder length hair. There’s a slight wave to the warm brown strands. He smiles at you big and bright, the action making the sunglasses bounce just a little on his face. “I’m Ashton,” he greets, holding out a hand. 

You shake it in return, offering your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same, same. Again, apologies for my tardiness. Not the kind of first impression I want to give.”

But grace, but grace, but grace. “Consider the tardiness excused. Better late than never.”

His laughter is soft as he nods. “Right, right on.”

“I was about another ten minutes from putting together a search party,” Michael relays to Ashton as he settles to your right. 

“Nah, you can put the dogs back and let them free in the backyard. Though I don’t think South would dare get his paws dirty.”

“You have dogs?” you ask Michael. 

He nods. “Two. South and Moose.” Before you can even ask to see pictures, he’s pulling out his phone. There on the table, the screen lights up your face as you swipe through the gallery Michael pulled up. “South has the golden coat--very much a diva.”

“Last time I petsit him, he acted like he didn’t even know me,” Calum huffs. “Until it was time for him to go and then he didn’t want to go.”

“A diva,” Michael concludes. 

“They’re precious,” you coo, handing the device back after two more swipes. 

“Do you have any pets by chance?” Luke tacks on. 

“No, but I’m open to the idea. Just wasn’t feasible for a while.” There’s a nod of understanding but it leads down a tangent about Luke and his dog Petunia. It’s nice for the conversation to flow naturally. By the time you order your first round of drinks and some appetizers for the table, you learn about Luke’s older brothers, Ashton’s younger siblings, the way Michael, Luke, and Calum found each other in middle school thanks to band class. Luke’s mother used to teach Ashton as he is older than the rest of the group, resting right in the same age bracket as you. But even still, he’d been reached out by Michael in a string of bizarre fated events to guest drum for a gig they’d landed. 

Though the band didn’t live long, given Calum’s trip off to football camp in Brazil and an unfortunately timed injury to Ashton’s wrist, they still kept close. It floors you for a minute to learn that in addition to school Ashton had taken a job at a KFC. He’d been doing it to bring in extra cash for his family and thankfully through the gigs, he’d managed to worm his way into the music world. He didn’t let the job go fully until he was met with a do or die moment. To say Ashton did is an understatement, but there’s something still modest in the well worn leather jacket and faded t-shirt. You’re sure if you saw the brand’s name etched into either one of the items, it still might give you a heart attack, but something in the ensemble lets you know that Ashton is not overly frivolous. The items stay in rotation until they’re unable to be saved. 

“I’ll be right back,” Calum announces, pushing in a little closer to you. His lips press gingerly to your cheek before he stands. “No one scare them off while I’m gone.”

“Oh, we’ll behave,” Ashton giggled from behind his bottle. For a man who was newly single according to Calum, he was keeping his wits about him. He asked you questions, cracked jokes with Michael and Luke. Now without the sunglasses on his face, you spot the bright eyes to match his bright smile. 

“Calum tells us you paint,” Luke offers up before sucking the ranch off his fingers. “Working on anything new?”

“Oh, I’m almost finished with this painting for him. So, nothing new really. I should’ve been done ages ago, but something about it doesn’t feel finished just yet. We’ll see if it ever jumps out at me.”

“I’m sure it will soon,” Luke smiles.

“Would you ever consider doing art full time?” Michael questions. He goes in for another sip of his cocktail. 

“I much prefer it as a hobby, if I’m honest. I think I could see myself maybe taking it more seriously in the future, but I don’t know if it’s my next career move or not.”

“So you enjoy the restaurant life?” Ashton asks. “Or is that just where you prefer to stay in as your career?”

“A little bit of both, I guess,” you contemplate. “The industry is deadly  and I don’t want to be a linecook forever, but I think for right now, I prefer to say that this industry is where I make my money. When I leave work, I leave it--none of it comes back home with me.”

“Except for Calum,” Luke snorts. 

“I mean it’s not smart to shit where you eat, but so far it’s yet to blow up in my face so I’m hoping it never does. And technically, Calum’s not been to my place yet, so work has never actually come home with me. Can’t say the same for him.”

The boys cackle at your correction. “Fair,” Luke snickers. “I’m just happy to see him doing well again after everything that happened.”

The air feels sucked out of the room. Ashton and Michael’s smiles fall like bricks from their faces, clattering to the table beneath you all. You’re not aware of anything before, but now that it’s out there it sits on the table within arm’s reach like the wings and fries in front of you. Yet you don’t know if you should touch it. Don’t know if you should follow up on Luke’s line of conversation or pocket it for later. 

You reach for a fry instead, dipping into your side bowl of ketchup. “You sure know how to drop a bomb Luke. How’s the music going though?” 

You’re curious. What had happened to Calum before? As far as you were aware, he’d not been dating anymore, not seriously before you. Well, not that you knew of while you worked in the kitchen of course. The almost two years had been pretty quiet on the gossip train about Calum until you two got involved. But there’s plenty of time prior to that that you couldn’t account for. 

“So, you-you don’t know?” Michael questions. It cuts right under the question you asked to Luke. 

“No, no I don’t know.” It’s a simple sentence. Because you don’t. And you’re too tired to panic about what you don’t know. The worry of Teagan and Charlie outweighs whatever information you haven’t been given from Calum. 

“It’s a good thing,” Michael clarifies. “There’s been a really good change in Calum because of you. It’s not my place to tell you. But I do want you to know it isn’t bad.”

Luke sets his bottle down and pushes it with the tips of his fingers a couple more inches from his reach. “I’m sorry. Definitely should’ve been more careful about that kind of stuff. But it is good, like Michael says.”

Ashton scoots the bottle Luke pushed away closer to him. “Yeah, buddy, let me just hold onto that for you.”

It’s not fun to know that Calum’s withheld information. But you know that people will always play certain things close to their chest. You kept Teagan and Charlie close for so long. You kept your family drama close. Though it is a jolt, a shock to your system, you think it’s only fair that Calum has the things he wants to keep close too. Everyone has their demons. Perhaps the signs were always there. But there is always a reason. 

“So, everyone here is in music somehow. Who wants to go first about their current project? And please one at a time, or I will have to break out the talking stick, or rather talking bottle,” you tease. 

“Talking bottle?” Michael laughs. 

“Well, it’s a talking stick originally. Whomever has the stick speaks. Everyone else stays quiet and then it goes around person to person and back and forth between people if need be.” Your empty bottle of beer stares back at you and you lift a few inches off from the table. “But when in a bar, you improvise.”

“Are you saying we talk over each other?” Luke laughs with a bit of a squeal to his voice at the same time Ashton states, “I don’t really think we need to go that far.”

“If the boot fits,” you laugh. The fries have gone cold due to the time you’ve all spent talking, less focused on the actual drinks and food. But you reach for another couple as the boys bicker for a moment. They’re more like brothers than they are friends, as you watch them, reminding you of the way Teagan and Charlie interact with each other. It’s a playful banter, a quip always at the ready with them. 

“You okay?” 

You turn to the question, though you don’t need to. Calum’s scooted in a little closer to you. You can feel his warmth seeping into your back through his shirt on your body. “I’m okay. I like your friends.”

Calum’s lips are soft on your cheek. “Good. I think they like you too.”

“Try love them,” Michael corrects and no sooner than he makes the statement, he’s sucked back into Ashton’s claims that a band, you didn’t catch the name, is overrated. Ashton quickly reasserts he doesn’t mean it negatively. 

“They’re just too derivative of a derivative and ultimately aren’t producing anything cutting,” Ashton further explains. 

“We’re not talking about fucking algebra,” Michael quips. “We’re so far from the origins of the soundscapes for most genres. It’s all going to sound derivative, because it is. But it’s not about new, or shiny. It’s about saying it in a way that no one else has.”

It’s like Luke’s early faux pas didn’t even happen. Ashton and Michael verbally circle each other all the while Luke watches like one does a tennis match--Ashton then Michael. Michael then Ashton--back and forth for all it to end in a deuce. You wonder if either will ever get the two points to win. But the waitress comes by again and the collection take stalk of the table. There’s a few bottles scattered and you help her collect those, and order up on more drinks--some water, some sodas, a few more cocktails and alcoholic drinks thrown into the mix. 

“Would you ever take commissions? Even on the side?” Luke ponders. “Like one off projects and such?”

“Possibily,” you answer with a shrug. The majority of your work went to to a couple local places--the local children’s hospital enjoyed having your work on display as the children loved it. You’d gifted Teagan and Charlie small paintings after they begged for them. “Again, don’t want to make it my career, but you know if someone wanted to pay me to do something for them, I’d entertain the thought.”

“An original painting could do wonders at the local charity circuit,” Ashton pipes in. The comment isn’t for you and you peer over your shoulder to Calum. 

He stares wide eyed over his first beer that he’s yet to finish. “It could. But I-if it’s not your thing, you don’t have to do it.”

“Do what?” you question. There’s been no conversation about anything for charity in your presence. 

“In December, I have-I have a charity banquet to attend. There’s stuff that people auction off to raise money for the connected charities. I mentioned the the guys that it’d be nice to auction off something more meaningful. But I wasn’t sure if it was even appropriate to ask you about it. You’d only have two months and some change to finish it. There’s a website that goes up in the last week of November, a week and a half before the event so people can see the options.”

“Which charities?” You’d heard of the event, watched clips of the auction with more curiosity than true interest to watch rich people flaunt their philanthropy. 

“I think this year is focusing on women’s rights, especially the efforts on pushing law enforcement to investigate those missing. The deadline to submit proposals is in two weeks though. Which is like, not great planning on my end I know.”

“What do you normally auction off?”

“Volunteer time.” 

“How comfortable are you with volunteer time?” You’d at least think about it. It might be more than you could handle, but you’d chew the thought over. Especially since you did still have questions about whatever Luke alluded to earlier. 

“I like it; I don’t mind volunteering. It’s a nice change of pace honestly. Just--I think others should see your talents too.”

The blush that creeps up on his cheeks nearly melts you. Though your gut initially wants to dismiss it as the flush of alcohol, you know the truth. When Calum casts his gaze down and picks at his nails, you know that he’s a little shy in the confession. You take his hand gingerly on top of the table and the action is enough for him to look up. “I’ll think about it and get back to you.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” 

At the very end when the check hits the table, all four boys reach it, cards and cash in hand. Ashton ends up footing the bill but the rest of the boys hand over cash or tap at their screens to ensure Ashton’s paid for their portions. “How much do I owe Calum?” you ask, noticing the bill’s being split four ways instead of five. 

He shakes his head. “I got you, baby. Don’t worry.”

“You sure?”

“More than sure.”

“I’ll pay next time.” It’s not fully a suggestion, but you still offer it softly. 

Calum takes a squeeze at your hand after slipping his phone into his pocket. “Okay.” It’s easy, simple. He smiles at you and the group pushes up from the table. Michael, Luke, and Ashton all give you hugs as you leave. 

“You’ll come next time too, right?” Luke asks. “We bring all the partners. Be a nice time, I think.”

“I’d be happy to see you all again,” you agree. The agreement leads to another round of hugs, the group spilling out into the outdoors. The night is darker, a little cooler than you first left it. Calum’s hold around your hand tightens for only a moment and you squeeze in return at the action. 

You know there’s always a better time, a better place. The parking lot of this bar definitely does not feel like the right time. But you’re not sure when it will be. “Luke mentioned something when you stepped away to the restroom. And-and I’d like to ask you about it.”

The tension thickens. Calum’s shoulders become rigid under the t-shirt. “It doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

Not a shut down, only a phish for more information. One you’re happy to supply. “It is good in a way. The group seems to be really happy that you’re in a good relationship. But the way Luke said it, it made me think there’s definitely something, or someone before.”

“I don’t want anyone else if that’s what you’re wondering. That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I’m-I’m not worried about that. I’m not really worried about anything. I just--whenever you’re ready to talk about what happened before, I’d like to know.”

You think that’s going to be the end of the conversation. You wouldn’t fault it at all. Perhaps, you’d been all too blinded by Calum choosing you that you hadn’t fully wondered what was going on in his past. You didn’t think the stories of Calum’s childhood could be a smoke screen. They were real. They were all a part of what made Calum Calum. But Luke’s comment cracks open the possibility that you’d been blinded. As hungry as you were to have Calum to yourself the reality of it all is that he’s not to be consumed. 

“I just--there’s stuff I haven’t asked you, you know? I want the bad stuff too. So I know how to be there for you. So I know how to love you.” The words fall, buzzing on your lips and tongue. You’d want to pick them up after they’ve fallen, but you know it's wasted energy. They’re out there now. You can’t do anything but watch Calum’s back. The tension has dropped. He doesn’t look ready to run. 

“Part of it feels ridiculous,” Calum admits. He tugs your hand, closing the gap between the two of you. “There’s so much worse that’s happening to other people. And my hurt just starts to feel small.”

“It’s not a competition of pain. Your hurt isn’t smaller than someone else’s.” You’re slotted against Calum’s chest. There’s no brim of a hat, no glasses to hide him away. There’s just the fear--plain as day on his face. “If I ever made this feel like a competition, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, you didn’t make it feel like a competition. I think,” he pauses with a sigh. “It’s totally different. I feel like I want to love again. With you. It wasn’t always like that.”

Your fingertips ache. You want to cup his jaw, ask him to explain to you from the top what it was like before. You don’t, thinking a camera lens could be pointed at you right now. Perhaps there would always be and now it’s less about them and more about Calum. With caution, you trace at his jaw, trailing up until your palm rests against his full cheek. “I’m glad it’s better now.”

Calum’s eyes shut, lashes nearly brushing the top of his cheeks. Like babies root to touch, Calum turns into your hold, lips pressing to your palm with a kiss. “But it was bad. And you should know.”

“Only when you’re ready,” you whisper. You’re glad there’s no breeze, lest your words have gotten swept up in it. 

“Can I tell you on the drive?”

Your answer is only a nod. You want to do more, kiss him. Let him know you’re there. You think if it could be done, you’d crawl into his chest, whisper to his heart that you don’t have plans on breaking it. But this is not a fairytale. You know strife always comes. The only solace one can have is that they don’t cause too much of it. 

It’s quiet at first, as Calum pulls out of the parking lot and onto the streets. You watch the signs for the highway, watch Calum take the entrance ramp, spending up so that he can merge. You’re not headed back to the palace. You’re actually going in the opposite direction. You don’t know what could be out there, what Calum has up his sleeve. But you don’t question it. 

“Her name is Nora,” Calum starts. 

You know of a Nora-- a princess fit to inherit within the next three years. Her particular people believed in a matriarch. Though Queens took husbands, they almost always never turned over power. “Like Princess Nora or the girl next door to the palace Nora?” 

“The princess,” Calum answers, but he does grin for a brief moment taking a look at your face. 

There are no girls next door--you know that. But somehow the truth still unsettles. You don’t remember murmurs about Nora from the kitchen. The kitchen staff passed time in gossip. You knew more about the royal family you worked for and others merely because the gossip seemingly made the seconds fly by. You’d never cared for it before and didn’t care for it when you worked there. You let the others do the talking. 

“We dated back in college for two and half years.”

That’s well before you would’ve even been considering working for the palace. No wonder it hadn’t come up around you. “I’m guessing it wasn’t amicable.”

Calum shrugs. “I don’t know if amicable is remotely close. But it didn’t end badly. Just rough. When we broke up, I spent a year wallowing. I wanted to pretend I was okay, but she was my first love in a way. I’d dated before in high school, but they’d only lasted a few months. Not nearly enough time to mean anything in comparison.”

“I think your training in Brazil ruined you,” you tease, watching through the front windshield as the dark asphalt and street lights whizz around you. 

“I know, I know. Not a competition. But the crushes in high school were just that--crushes. We dated, held hands, kissed, but Nora was my first serious relationship. I’d been looking at rings.”

Rings-- the word bites at your veins. Calum doesn’t say it with ease, his hands clutching the wheel so hard his knuckles are paling. They’d been deep into the relationship--enough so that marriage was potentially on the line. Your fingers twitch to soothe his, but you restrain yourself given his work at the wheel. 

“Sounds like you never made the purchase?” you probe, hoping it’s as gentle as it can be. You are curious. You want Calum to know that you are listening too. 

“Never had the opportunity, thankfully so, I guess. Nora graduated in December and I graduated in May. She’d taken some summer classes to help get ahead and done some work in high school to get a head start. Nora asked me at the start of winter break, right after she graduated, if I intended on marrying her. I was honest. I told her that I would like to, after we both had a couple years out from school. There would be a lot of logistics involved.”

“Politcs,” you point out. “She’s a part of a matriarch. You’re in a patriarchal system.” The quip about you being lower class, how much easier it is to date someone with no political ties, burns at your tongue. But you know Calum. It won’t go well at all; he’ll beg you to stop the self deprecation, tell you that he loves you for you. It’s all things you know.  

Calum winces at the phrasing. “I mean that’s what it was. But at the time, I didn’t see it like that. I was idealistic about it, toxically optimistically probably. Not that I’m not the same now, but I hope not nearly as much.”

He risks a glance, like he poised a question. You only shrug at first, but then add on, "Optimistic, yes. Toxic, no. You know when you admit you’re wrong.”

“Improvement then, I guess, from then. Nora didn’t want to turn over her right to rule. I didn’t want to turn over my right to rule. And even if I told her she wouldn’t be, she didn’t see it that way. I thought she was being nitpicky. No one would care at the end of the day because her politics would still stand. I wouldn’t interfere with her work. But ultimately, it was--it was crumbling. The second I answered that we could rule separately but still be together and she looked at me with confusion--it was over. Rock meet glass house.”

You can imagine it--the strong brow on Nora furrowing as Calum spoke. The way she might’ve shaken her head and spoke firmly, black hair spilling over her shoulder as it always did in her press speeches. Nora is a force--fierce with seemingly little fear about the perception from others. Where Calum played a careful game, Nora played the explosive kind. She’s smart, by no means did her passion outshine her intelligence, but she was always speaking out first about things. She was one of the people rallying others. It’s easy to see how with Nora it became all or nothing 

Calum continues on, signaling as he speaks to take an exit. “I tried to date, but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to be dating if I’m honest. I’d told myself that I’d just be single. I’d take on the throne and settle into that- give it five, seven, ten years before I married. It really wouldn’t matter. Luke was trying to set me up on dates. But they never went anywhere. Didn’t even want sex if I’m honest. I refused it a couple times and both girls and guys  thought I was crazy. Sometimes, I don’t know. Sometimes I did it anyway because it was a distraction. Nothing really numbed the pain though. There was just this constant ache I had. I’d envisioned myself a dad--playing sports in the back garden, or in ballet recitals for daddy and daughter dance classes. I’d always pictured myself on the throne, working in the Cabinet. Those weren’t things I’d want to give up, even for Nora. That’s what made it scary. She had her way of thinking. Her people rule the way they do and that’s fine. But I always knew I was going to be King. I knew even if I didn’t always want it that I wouldn’t give up on the responsibility.”

You can hear what’s between those words, what still causes Calum pain.  “But it meant giving up Nora, right? If you were always going to take your throne and she was always going to take hers, then the only thing left is what happened.” It doesn’t shock you to hear how much Calum dreamed of his future. You don’t worry that he still wants it—those things could all be worked out eventually. But you know that Calum’s so caught up on making things work for the best possible outcome that he doesn’t always remember that life is not always about the best. 

“Yeah,” Calum sighs. It’s heavy and comes deep from within his chest, “but I wanted it all. You know. I wanted her and I wanted to follow through on my duties. I wanted it fucking all and at the time, it felt like I’d lost everything. We knew after that conversation it wouldn’t be compatible. Nora and I’s relationship required sacrifices that we were too young and too driven to make. Nora deserves where she’s at. She deserves to rule. And I don’t think she could’ve been happy any other way.”

“Do you think you could’ve been happy any other way? As little as I actually know about her--and I reserve the right to absolutely be wrong about it--it was your relationship too.”

The roads are narrowing. You watch now as the dark asphalt lightens, there’s a few more bumps along the way. You round the bend and the ocean opens up in front of you. You know the beach is closed but it doesn’t seem to stop Calum as he pulls to a stop in the parking lot. The lights stuff off from the car, leaving you surrounded in the thick mass of the night. The sun’s long gone. The lights are off in the truck too. The engine knocks just a little as the vehicle settles. 

“I might’ve been, but if I’m honest I didn’t spend 4 years in college and 4 years under my father’s immediate wings for nothing. I’d been putting time into my own aspirations and I don’t think long term that relationship would’ve been good for me,” Calum answers as he turns to you. The seatbelt clanks against the plastic interior. “I hope the beach is okay.”

“The beach is fine.” You undo your seatbelt as well, listening to the way it winds back up into place. “Making the right choices sometimes isn’t easy,” you admit. Like the right choice to change jobs. Like the right choice to stay for Teagan and Charlie. Like the right choice for Calum to let Nora go. 

“Yeah,” Calum agrees. “Sometimes it’s not.”

You find Calum’s hand, threading your fingers through his. “I hope your choices next time are easier.”

“They’ve gotten easier,” he confesses. “Talking to you was easy. You always treated me like a person.”

“Because you are one.” It’s a simple answer, but you know it to be true. Calum’s just a person. Though he had politics about him, though he was in a world foreign to you at all times and even overwhelming, he was just a person like you. “You’re human like the rest of us.”

“Doesn’t always feel like it.” 

You don’t want to imagine the pressure on Calum’s shoulder, a pressure so unsustainable. But the wheel must spin. The cruelty of it all is that someone has to win and someone has to lose. 

“What’s the relationship like now with Nora? Is it still tense?”

“Not as much as before. It’s professional at this point, as much as it can be.” 

“Two and a half years is a long time though. Makes sense.”

“We tried to make it work. Six months we kept trying to keep pushing and find a solution. But we only sort of grew to resent each other. We were always fighting. Nora called it off, ultimately. She was the one that saw we were crashing and burning. I didn’t want to admit it even if I noticed it too. So to say it was amicable, not quite. It was mutual though.”

You know Calum even in the dark. You know the squint of his eyes, the way his cheeks meld to your hold. You know the catch of his breath when you brush your fingers over the veins on his neck. His veins thump under your touch and then you drag the touch up to his jaw. “Thank you for telling me. That wasn’t easy for you, I can see.”

“I don’t particularly like thinking about it,” Calum admits. His throat seizes. You feel the small quake under your fingers. “I didn’t talk about it. Not even with the boys for a long time.”

“If there’s anyone that understands, it’s me. There’s nasty things in life sometimes. Stuff that we don’t want to talk about, don’t want to deal with. Thing’s we’d prefer to swallow down and never pull back up. I get it,” you assure. 

Something warm hits your fingers. It’s only a few drops--tears you assume. Pushing up, you find his lips, a kiss soft and sweet. Calum’s quick to grapple you, encase you in his arms and tug. You’re pulled as far as you can over the console. And you let yourself go. It’s awkward, your back hurts just a little. But Calum exhales into your mouth, shaky as he breathes. 

“Scoot the seat all back. You’re going to break my back,” you tease after the hug lasts longer than you anticipate.

“That’s now how I imagined doing it,” Calum teases, his breath ghosting over your lips. He reaches down to pull the lever and push the driver seat back. 

Settled onto Calum’s lap, you pull him back into your chest. His fingers are buried--under the shirt--pressing into your flesh like his digits can burrow deeper into your, pass the muscle and fat, into the hollows of blood and organs. You don’t stop him, just press a kiss to his forehead as you cradle his head. His body tremors and there’s the occasional sniffle. The tears are hot on your thumbs, but you wipe them away, slow and steady. 

“It’s okay, Calum. You can let it all out now,” you encourage. You know you can’t fix anything. You can’t change the past. But you let him release it. The thing about carrying things that are buried is that they tend to come back when you don’t want them too--like wild animals fed, the things that get buried only ever come back. 

Your stroke along his neck, over his shoulders. Your words are soft. “It’s okay, love. It’s okay. You’re safe to let it out.”

The tremors cease after a long stretch of time, 10 or so minutes,--Calum’s crying reduced now to just the sniffles, just the remnant of tears that trail down his cheeks. With one deep inhale, Calum brings his face out of your hands and rests his head down on your shoulder. His lips brush at your neck, in what are nearly kisses. Your knees ache, you’re sure that when you finally sit your toes are going to tingle due to the lack of blood for the time being. But this is all temporary, not something you need to worry about when you can still hear the shuddery exhales of Calum. 

“Haven’t had someone in a long time tell me I was safe,” he whispers against your skin. His voice is thick with the tears and emotion he’s split. His arms constrict again around your back, arms locked as if attempting to cage you in. You know better. You know it’s for comfort. 

“Well you are; you’re safe with me.”

“Thank you.” The phrase is followed by a kiss this time to your neck. He follows the line to your throat with more gratitude on his tongue. He paints your skin with the phrase. You wonder when you shower again if the words will show up as tattoos on your throat. His forehead is firm in your sternum but you don’t mind the pressure when he falls back into the shelter of your body. 

“You’re welcome,” you return to Calum. 

His voice rumbles through your chest, you catch something that sounds like smell but you can’t fully place it. You thread your fingers around the back of his neck and squeeze. It’s not enough pressure to cause pain but it coaxes his head back. “I said you smell good,” he laughs. 

“Thank you,” you laugh. 

The dark doesn’t make it easy, but you imagine that his cheeks might be flushed, that there might be a little bit of pink to them. There’s some light due to the tall streetlights in the parking lot, but you two are far enough at the edge of the beacon of one and the end of the parking lot so it leaves the truck in the glow of a light and not fully lit. His eyes glisten though as he watches you. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you huff, pressing at his shoulders. 

“Look at you like what?”

“Like you can’t help but love me.” 

“I do love you.”

It’s wrong to say what’s pressing at your teeth, do you love me enough for sacrifice. You know it given what Calum had just confessed. Maybe the two of you were still too young and too stubborn for the kind of love that required sacrifice. Perhaps it’s the kind of love that you had to mature into with each other. Calum wouldn’t have much to sacrifice, save for a few comments, a few sneers. You’d always have something to sacrifice. 

“What’s going on? You can talk to me,” Calum coaxes, hands moving from your hips to your cheeks, thumbs swiping right under your eyes. There are no tears. 

“It’s not a fair question,” you return. “It’s not the right time to ask it.”

“Will you ask it when it’s the right time?” Calum questions. It falls out quietly. You can hear it land into your lap, soft and fragile like the first snow. For a moment, you hope that this winter gives a fresh and deep dusting. The summer was warm and thick. You want winter to be cold. 

“If the right time comes up.”

“No, no not if, when. When it’s the right time to ask, you’ll ask, right?”

It’s a promise that will make you a liar. You know it. “Do you want to make me a liar?”

“Just this once,” Calum answers. 

“What if it’s never a fair question?” What if it’s just insecurity that you’re letting get the best of you?  

“This,” Calum returns, a hand waving between the two of your bodies. “This is not a glass house we’re building. It doesn’t always have to be a fair question. Just as long as it can be made into an honest conversation.”

A conversation--a much more fair objective. You bring your forehead to his--the beer’s a  faint ghost on his breath. All you can smell is Calum--the pomade in his hair, the cologne he sprayed on his throat and wrist that smells like expensive leather with a hint of sandalwood and something sweet like vanilla. You trace the veins in his neck, a steady thumping of his heart under your gentle press. 

“I’m not sure of many things in my life,” you start. “I never had the chance to live with certainty. I always keep that voice in the back of my head fed, that tells me you’ll grow bored. You’ll want someone with less baggage. You’ll need something more suited for the life you have. Because you’re a fucking Prince. I’m a fucking cook. It’s all I ever had--the cooking and a little bit of art to keep me going. But I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I like you. I love you too. But I wonder how far this can go. How far do you want to take it, you know? I don’t need announcements on social media or anything like that. I just--I keep the voice in the back of my head fed because what if all this leaves me.”

Calum’s lips are soft. His mouth sealing around yours in a kiss. His hands are warm on your face. The tears are hot on your cheek--yours this time. What if you lose it all? What if it all goes away? You cannot consume him. But you wish you could. 

“We never know what life’s going to bring, baby.” The silver bracelet Calum slipped on dazzles just a little in the glint of the faint light coming in through the car window. “I know I want to be with you. I know I want to wake up next to you. I want to take you on dates, even if it’s just picnics in the park. I want to show you off to my friends. I want to have a relationship with Teagan and Charlie too. I want to take you all out, have them crash some bumper cars, feed them too much fucking candy and make your parents hate me just a little because I always drop their two youngest off on a sugar high. I want to watch you paint and talk about our days together. I want,” he pauses. You watch his eyes flicker from your face to the space around the car. He’s searching. You don’t know for what though you do hope it’s the words.

You squeeze his face. “You want what?” You just want to hear the words: that Calum wants you. You know it’s true. You just need to hear it. 

He continues on. “I just want you,” Calum laughs, squeezing at your hips. “I want to adopt a dog with you. I miss my boy, Duke, so fucking much. He’s a hole in my heart but I know that I still have love to give. I know it’s not always going to be easy with me. I know it’s scary. But I don’t want these things with anyone else, baby. If I had the opportunity to beg life for anything, I’d beg for you; that you get to stay with me so that you can teach me things, so I can teach you things. You’ll have to stop feeding that voice. It’s a hungry bastard, but starve it.” His arms are trembling. The emotion rocks his voice. 

“Starve it,” he whispers. “I want you to starve that voice so that you can enjoy this too, so that you don’t keep waiting for the bad and start to enjoy the good thing in front of you. We’ll never know what life’s going to bring. I certainly didn’t think life would bring me you. And yet, it did. I’m so happy it did.”

It’s a rush, the surge in the centimeters between the two of you to seal Calum’s mouth in a kiss. I just want you. It’s terrifying to want. Here, especially with Calum. Wanting things didn’t mean you needed them. Wanting things didn’t mean you’d get them either. But you are lying if you say you don’t want Calun. You’re lying if you say you don’t want him to want you. And you’ve always known it. But knowing how far he was with Nora, a part of you just needs reassurance. 

Reassurance comes when Calum kisses back. It comes when he pants into your skin how much he waits for calls. It comes when he squeezes at your hips, rocks you over his pelvis. Reassurance comes when hands are deftly teasing skin under shirts. When you don’t waste time with either of you fully undressing, and you watch the fog creep up on the windows, you feel reassured. Reassurance comes when the gratitude Calum painted you in earlier turns into desire, when he tattoos into your skin I love you over and over with his lips and tongue. 

You need that reassurance like you need the graze of his teeth over your collar bone. Need the curl of his fingers into your flesh. You need the shuddered moans of your steady rhythm as your pelvis rocks up and down his. You need him. You crave him. You want him. You want Calum in every sense of phrase--you want to tell Calum about your day. You want to hear about his day. You want the dog too. You want Diana and Melvin to be pissed at the sight of you and Calum because they know there’s about to be too much sugar involved. You want to paint for Calum, want him to ask you about each color and each stroke. 

“I think you might be the death of me,” you whisper against his jaw. The tension in your stomach tightens as Calum bucks up against your clothed pelvis. You gasp at the feeling. You know the stretch of him, how well he treats you on his cock and tongue. His truck may not be the best place for it, but the thought crosses your mind to beg for it. That is until Calum responds to your statement. 

“No,” Calum groans, “No, I want you to live for me.” His hands slide up your back. The tug pulls you in with ease--your chest pressed into his. “Can you do that for me? Can you live for me?”

I want you to live for me. Another gasp leaves you. Body teetering on the edge of release but the shock pulls you far enough from the edge. You don’t want a glass house with Calum either. You want something real. Perhaps, you want something to live for too--needed it without really knowing you needed that kind of direction. 

You know you can’t live for Calum long-term. You’ll need something else eventually. But Calum’s the best start. You nod before Calum presses you down onto his bulge again. “I can.”

“Good,” he grins. “Now, c’mere.”

The rumble in his voice makes your stomach liquid. Your skin buzzes as you kiss him again. Your orgasm rockets through you as Calum’s tongue pants your mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, body quaking with the fire of your desire consuming you. “That’s it, fuck, baby,” Calum whispers against your mouth, his voice tight. 

Calum won’t be far behind you. You let your hand graze over his nipple, up to his throat. The hold is featherlight. But it’s enough for his eyes to flutter for a moment. You grin. “Make a mess for me,” you command, pressing harder into Calum. 

They say fire only needs oxygen--it takes one gulp and then bursts into flames, an inferno of a single spark. Calum only needs the command, the light press of your fingers at the sides of his throat before his body goes rigid. His gasp falls choked before you pull yourself in close, swiping your tongue over his parted lips. The ghost of his breath, the huff of air as he comes down from his orgasm fans over your face. You revel in it, grinning as you listen to his raggedy breathing. 

Calum laughs, head falling into the rest. You curl into his chest though there’s dampness from your own orgasms and Calum’s creeping in through the denim. “All that’s missing now is the handprint on the window,” he teases. Calum’s fingers are gentle over your back, tracing the length of your spine. 

You reach out to touch the driver side window. “Done.” The scent of leather swells your nose, long after you’ve slipped back into the passenger seat. Calum’s cologne is signed onto the hairs in your nose. The dampness of your jeans turns into a coolness as it starts to dry. Calum’s hand is warm on your knee. I want you to live for me. Insecurity is a useless emotion, yet it still reared it’s ugly head. You were glad to hear Calum’s reassurance. But his demand that you live for him; that you starve the voice in your mind that keeps waiting for the bad, is dizzying. When your entire world has been set in hiding, never being heard or seen, it’s unsettling to have someone draw you out. Calum wants to draw you. He wants you to live in a life that you’d been content with. You hope the spotlight doesn’t burn you.

[fastandtheformula1]

Could I please request one with Ashton? Maybe either friends to lovers or enemies to lovers? Whatever you write, I know will be amazing!

I Wanna Be Yours- Ashton Irwin

a/n: thank you for requesting! here it is!

pairing: ashton irwin x female!reader

summary: you and ashton finally confront your feelings.

warnings: angst, cursing, fluff

word count: 1547

not my gif!

~

You knew from the moment you met him he was going to be yours. Every time you saw Ashton, you felt alive. You always felt a spark between you two, but sadly the timing was never right for you guys. It was always something to the effect of he had a girlfriend, or you went on a few dates with someone, or one of you had feelings but the other didn’t. You always knew you liked him more than a friend. You always felt butterflies since Micheal’s birthday party four years ago, when he introduced himself to you. Little did you know he felt the same way you did.

“Hi, uh. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ashton.” The man next to you said, refilling his drink.

You looked up. He was very tall, practically towering over you, and wore all black. His hair was a carmel brown, and fell slightly above his eyebrows. He was pretty built- totally your type. You quickly shook your head to make it look like you weren’t staring. “Nice to meet you, Ashton.”

“How do you know Micheal?” He inquired, taking a sip from his cup.

“Oh, um, our parents worked together.” You said, mirroring his gesture.

“Cool. Uh, sorry, and your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N. Well Ms. Y/N, happy to meet your acquaintance.”

“You as well.”

A few weeks later, you got a text from him asking you to go to coffee, and you guys clicked. He always had a safe, charming yet sophisticated feel towards him. You never knew exactly what it was that made him have that vibe, but it was something that you always admired.

Now though, things had gotten more complicated. You two weren’t the same awkward strangers standing next to each other. Now, you have been best friends for almost three years. You knew everything about him, from his family life to dyeing his hair to sleeping over at his house. Hell, one time you accidentally walked in on him naked.

But you’ve always been friends. And nothing more. And it killed you every time he referred to you as his “friend”. Sometimes you wanted to just walk up to him and make out with him. You always wanted to be something more. You always had this teetering feeling of Do I like him? Do I not? Every time you saw him, you had to remind yourself that you were just friends. It took everything in you to not say anything to him about your feelings, though it felt like you would burst if you didn’t say anything.

You spent every moment not with him wanting to be with him. He was the first thing you thought of in the morning and the last thing you thought of at night. You wanted him to press kisses all over your face, as an attempt to try and wake you up. You wanted to straddle his waist and have lazy morning sex with him, consisting of barely-there touches and soft I love you’s. Wearing his sweatshirts with only underwear on underneath and having him rip them off of you, leaving hickeys all over your body. Kisses as he rushed out the door late for rehearsal. Sitting around a fire at night listening to him play and fiddle with his guitar. You wanted him to put his arm around your waist at a party, and even punch a guy for you if he got handsy. You craved his hands all over your body and you’d be lying to yourself to say that you didn't. You needed to be his. Now and forever.

You were currently watching a movie at Calum’s house, cuddling into Ashton’s side. His arm was hung around your shoulder loosely, with this hand dangling. Your eyes kept dropping down to it, thinking of all the things it could do. You stared at his thick, long fingers, imagining how they would look inside-

“Y/N. Y/N. You okay? You zoned out for some time there.” Ashton whispered into your ear. His voice alone brought goosebumps to your skin. You turned your head, meeting him with a worried look. His soft, hazel eyes focused on yours, yearning to know what was going on in your mind. He looked at you with such intensity in his eyes, which made you lose eye contact. Your eyes dropped down to his pink, luscious lips, then to his gold, wave pendant necklace you got him for his birthday.

“Y/N.” He said, more sternly.

“What? Yeah, just tired I guess.” You said, looking back at him.

“Tired?” He repeated, with a cocked eyebrow, signaling that he was analyzing your words. You had always used that adjective when you were thinking of something else, and Ashton quickly caught on. You never knew how observant he really was, memorizing the little things that would piss you off, doing everything in his power to prevent it. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to interrupt the-”

“Hey, we’re gonna get some fresh air for a second. Be right back.”

Before you knew it, you were outside with Ashton’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders. You stood outside the door, fidgeting with your fingers as he lightly shut the door behind you. You tried to collect your thoughts, deciding whether or not you should tell him.

Either you lie to him and berate yourself for not telling him, or tell him the truth now and save yourself some angst. What if he doesn’t like you back? There could be hell to pay. I don’t want to lose him, he’s my best friend.

“You okay?” He asked, “You’ve seemed distracted lately.”

“I guess. I don’t know.”

“What’s been going on?” He leaned in a little closer. His hand was now on the outside of your forearm, caressing it gently. His body was millimeters away from you; you could smell his cologne. It drove you crazy.

Oh, you definitely know what’s going on.

“Talk to me.” He said, softly.

Those three words triggered something inside you. That’s when you really gave it to him.

“Ugh! I can’t stop thinking about you! And maybe it’s because you’re one of my best friends, and we spend a lot of time together, but… When I fall asleep I wish that you’re cradling me in your arms! I want good morning and good night texts from you! I dream about kissing you and, and, fuck the things I want to do to you, Ash.. It- It makes me want to scream sometimes!” You sighed heavily. “I just want to take care of you, and watch movies with you, go out on dates, and tell you I love you… I just- I just, I want you, Ashton. You. Not this friends with benefits without the benefits, ‘what the fuck are we’ shit. Okay? I-”

His lips met yours as you closed your eyes and reached for his hair. His lips were soft and warm against yours, making your body arch into him. He desperately pressed your bodies together, holding you tightly. You parted your lips, and Ashton slid his tongue in your mouth,, which caused you to slip out a small moan. You felt your heart beat faster and faster until you couldn’t breathe anymore. You pulled your hands from his hair and backed away, but he still held onto you.

“Whoa.” You said, opening your eyes.

A small moan was all he could muster as a response. He could still feel the warmth from your lips, and the way you tasted. He’d dreamt about the way this would go, and was in shock that it actually happened. Now that he had gotten a taste of you, he wanted it all. Your lips felt exactly the way he thought it would, smooth and delicate. He realized at that moment that you were all he was looking for. You were the piece that made him complete. Ashton stood there for a few seconds, trying to think away his thoughts, unable to open his eyes.

“Ashton?” You asked, slightly worried.

“Oh.” He said as he opened his eyes and looked at you. “Hi.” His eyes fixated on yours, which made your heart skip a beat. “I- I uh, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” He said, chuckling.

“Me too.”

He leaned in and kissed you, softer this time, wanting it to last forever. You melted into him, wanted to slip your tongue into his mouth, but he started laughing, pulling away from you.

“What?” You said, smiling.

“I just- I uh, I love you. And I know it sounds cheesy, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. You’re just perfect. I mean you’re way out of my league, and plus you’re sarcastic as hell, I mean who wouldn’t want that? You’re one of my favorite people on this planet, and I don’t know what or who I’d be without you.” He cooed.

“Ashhh,” You said, cuddling into his chest.

“I know I might be moving a little fast, but would you want to be my girlfriend?”

You looked up at him. “Oh, um. I actually have a boyfriend, so-.” You said, jokingly.

“I bet I could take him. Easily.” He said, as he snaked his arms around your waist.

[440mxs-wife]

Treasure Quest, Chapter 10: New Adventures (FIN)

Pairing: Captain Dean x Rhaya Payton (OFC) Other Characters: Benny, Sam, Jessica, and Baby John Winchester, Jack (mentioned). Lord Darius Payton, Connor (OMC's), Captain Keira, Darcy (OFC's).

Word Count: 5351

Warnings: Some Angst, Lovers' Quarrel, Misunderstanding, but there's a HAPPY ending (I promise)!🥰

Series Summary: Rhaya Payton is the daughter of the governor of Ochana. She grew up listening to her father tell her stories of pirates and treasure maps. At a gala one night, her stepmother, Carissa, announces Rhaya’s engagement to Ashton Kane, a wealthy nobleman. Only problem is, no one checked with Rhaya first. After overhearing plans made by her fiancé, Rhaya decides to go on the run and stows away on Captain Dean’s ship. What will happen when he finds her?

This Chapter: So, who is the Duke of Rosevale....?

Rhaya's troubles continue as her father has arranged a diplomatic reception for the new Duke of Rosevale. Unfortunately, meeting the duke doesn't go anywhere near as well as planned and leads to a verbal confrontation. A meeting in the courtyard later in the evening may hold the key to a resolution between them and a possible new adventure. Can their love be saved? Tune in to find out....Enjoy!

A/N: To all of you who have read, liked, reblogged, commented, or interacted with this story in any way: thank you. We have reached the end of the story for our favorite captain and governor's daughter. It has been my pleasure to bring this story to life for you, and I thank you all from the bottom of me heart. ❤️

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rhaya entered her bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind her. She slipped off her shoes and flopped backwards onto her bed, then heaved a deep sigh. As she stared at the ceiling, she reviewed a conversation she'd had with her father about some affairs of state.

Earlier in the day, her father had requested a meeting to inform her of an upcoming diplomatic function. The event was scheduled to occur in less than two weeks, and he wanted it to be a formal one. This meant she'd have to be on her best behavior, which she wasn't really keen on, considering her current emotional state.

The purpose, he'd said, was to introduce the new Duke of Rosevale to his inner circle of associates. He also planned to announce him as Ochana's newest ally and business partner. Thus the need for a more ceremonial approach, and his reason for including her in the process.

While he explained the situation, her father watched as she fought to keep her facial expression somewhat neutral. He knew of her dislike for official functions, and her feelings of sadness at her captain's prolonged absence. In the end, her sense of duty won out, and she promised her father she would conduct herself properly when she met the new Duke of Rosevale.

***

Three days before the duke's arrival, Rhaya had just returned from an appointment where the finishing touches were being placed on her gown for the gala. She was walking towards her bed to relax for a bit when there was a knock at the door. After taking a seat at the foot of the bed, she called out "Come in!", and the door opened with Darcy on the other side. She was giddy with excitement, which raised Rhaya's curiosity, though she couldn't quite muster the same level of enthusiasm.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Our guests arrived in port early, and I was sent by your father to bring you to the main hall to meet them," Darcy explained. "He said to make sure you were presentable."

"Ha! That's a laugh. Rarely am I presentable, nor do I want to be, especially not for this Duke of Rosemont or whatever his name is," Rhaya muttered.

"It's the Duke of Rosevale, and your father said you have twenty minutes to get ready," Darcy warned.

"Ugh, fine. Let's go," Rhaya begrudgingly agreed and headed for her ensuite bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, she had quickly washed up, changed out of her pants and tunic, and into a more appropriate pale pink day dress. Darcy fashioned a princess braid across the back of Rhaya's head like a crown, with the rest of her hair left untethered. Her makeup was minimal and neutral in color, except for the pink lipstick.

Upon her arrival in the main hall, she saw her father deep in conversation with a few visitors. There was one man in particular who caught her eye, dressed in dark brown pants, which were tucked into knee-high black leather boots. He was wearing a burgundy-colored, long sleeved tunic with a hem that reached to his mid-thigh. Around his middle was a black belt and a sword hanging from it. From behind, she thought the man looked a little familiar. She shrugged off the notion, figuring she'd learn his identity soon enough.

When Lord Darius spotted his daughter, he called out to her and waved her over to join them. As soon as the visitor heard the name, he stopped mid-sentence and turned around. His eyes brightened when they landed on the woman who had been occupying his every waking thought for the past three months. As she approached their circle, he couldn't help but marvel at how her beauty seemed to have only increased since the last time they'd met.

Rhaya stopped in her tracks when she saw who was speaking with her father. What is Dean doing here? No one told me he was coming back, only that we were hosting the Duke of....her thoughts trailed off. It can't be.... she silently pondered.

Lord Darius' voice interrupted her train of thought. "Ah, Rhaya, there you are. Your Grace, may I present my daughter, Rhaya Payton. Rhaya, please welcome the Duke of Rosevale, though I believe you know him better as Captain Dean Winchester," he explained.

Rhaya caught Dean's gaze and held it for a few tense seconds until finally extending her hand in his direction. "Your Grace," she murmured, giving him a slight curtsy.

Dean's lips twisted into a sly grin as he curled his fingers around hers, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. "Lady Rhaya, it is truly wonderful to see you again. May I present my brother, Samuel Winchester, his wife, Jessica, and their newborn son, John. Also with me is my advisor, Robert Singer, and two members of my crew, Master Gunner Benjamin Lafitte, and Ensign Jack Kline."

Lord Darius and his daughter nodded to each of the members of Dean's entourage as they were introduced. Glancing at the faces of everyone, she was met with genuine happiness at seeing her again. Then she remembered her feelings of the last three months that had passed with little to no word from Dean, who had promised to return. "Excuse me," she mumbled before picking up her skirts and turning to leave the room.

"Miss Payton! Miss Payt--Rhaya, wait, please!" he called.

Rhaya was about halfway to the door when she stopped in her tracks. "Wait?? Wait?!? You want me to wait??" she whirled around to face him, glaring with angry, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. "For the past three months, I've done nothing but wait! For you!"

Lord Darius and the others exchanged somewhat shocked and awkward glances at his daughter's outburst of temper. They weren't exactly sure what to do, and they all preferred to be anywhere but there at the moment. "Rhaya, dearest--" he started.

"Papa, I'd like to speak in private with Captain Winchester, the Duke of Rosevale, or whoever he is, please," she spoke, fighting to keep her voice even. Her father nodded, and everyone filed out, leaving Rhaya and Dean alone in the room.

"Rhaya, please let me explain," Dean begged.

She held up her hand to silence him as she walked over to a nearby chair, her arms crossed over her chest. "Do you have any idea what it's been like for me, waiting for you to come back? The longer we were apart and the less I heard from you, the more doubts crept into my head. Some days, they were so loud that I couldn't ignore them, no matter how hard I tried. When you didn't return after two months, I had to concede that they were right, that I wasn't worth it and that you'd changed your mind."

"Sweetheart, I promised I would be back for you. I'm sorry that it took so long, but there was never any 'changing my mind' at any point. I'm here now, for you," he pleaded, taking a seat near her.

Rhaya sighed deeply and shook her head before continuing. "Come on, Captain, I'm not stupid. One look at you, a handsome, heroic ship's captain, off to find buried treasure. You're a true leader, strong, noble, who cares more for those around him than he does for himself. What's not to love about that? I'm sure wherever you go, women practically fall at your feet for even a chance to have something with you."

"But--"

"And then there's me. Only daughter to the governor of Ochana, who is automatically assumed to look down her nose at people. She's spoiled, entitled, unintelligent, with no discernible skills except how to spread gossip and keep up on the latest fashions. No one is falling at my feet for the opportunity to learn anything about me past those assumptions," she shook her head sadly. "Most men are only interested in courting me to get near my father. Their ambitions involve obtaining a slice of his power and influence rather than anything to do with me."

"That's not--"

"So, I hope you can see how I might interpret your delayed return as a change of heart? Realize that I don't occupy your every thought like you do mine? Or how--" she choked back a sob then continued. "How you preferred to return to someone from your past instead of explore the future with me?" she whispered.

"There is no one else, past or present--" he vehemently denied.

Rhaya stood up from her chair. "I know you didn't intend for it to work out this way between us, but maybe it's for the best. Perhaps we should call it like it is and remember the good times we had, formed through an unlikely friendship. We're just too different for this to go any further, and for that, I'm sorry. Good evening, Your Grace." She gave him a watery smile, dipped a quick curtsy, and left him staring helplessly after her.

Dean remained seated, his head in his hands, with his shoulders slumped in defeat. How did everything go so wrong, so quickly? he wondered. He was thrilled at the prospect of seeing Rhaya, to once again feast his eyes on her beauty and finally express his feelings for her. He had not expected his dealings in Alcaria to have taken so much precious time away from her. And now it seemed that such delays had cost him what he wanted most at this point in his life.

From the doorway, he heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. When he looked up, he saw a member of the house staff, offering to escort him to the dining room as soon as he was ready. The man explained that Sam and the rest would soon be shown to the table as well. Dean thanked him and motioned for the staff member to lead the way.

***

Rhaya hastened towards her room, tears threatening to fall from her lashes. As she passed the dining room, she asked a staff member to tell her father that she would not be joining him. When the staff member expressed concern, Rhaya assured her that all was well. She explained that it was only a headache that left her feeling less than herself at the moment. The young lady wished her a swift recovery and promised that the governor would be informed of her absence at dinner.

Once inside her room with the door closed firmly behind her, Rhaya's composure slipped and the tears gave way from her eyes. How did it all go so wrong, so quickly? she sobbed. She should've been overcome with joy to finally see Dean, in person. Especially after the amount of time that had passed without one word from him.

Instead, she allowed her insecurities to get the best of her. She accused him of using her for his own amusement, which she knew in her heart wasn't true. At this point, she wouldn't blame him if he decided she wasn't worth the effort after all and returned to Alcaria without another word. Especially since she'd all but insisted that whatever connection they had was likely to have run its course. Those and other thoughts only served to restart the flow of tears down her face.

As the late afternoon sun gave way to the evening twilight, Rhaya lay on her bed, her eyes fixated on the ceiling. While she wondered if there was any way to fix what was broken between her and Dean, she heard a knock at the door. A spark of hope lit inside her, when she thought for a fleeting moment if her captain was on the other side. She couldn't help the flicker of disappointment that crossed her face when her sister opened the door.

"Missed you at dinner," Keira remarked. Rhaya nodded and mumbled an apology. "Yeah, your father conveyed your regrets to everyone for you not attending, said you had a headache?" Again, a nod, but no verbal response. "Rhy, honey, what's really going on?" she asked gently.

Rhaya heaved a deep sigh before launching into an account of what happened after everyone left the main hall. She explained her feelings to Dean and why she was so upset when he didn't return when promised. "I figured I had to be making it all up in my head, that I wasn't as important to him as he is to me," she confessed. "I thought there was no way I measured up to what he deserves, especially now that he's a duke."

Keira crawled up onto the bed to sit next to her and covered her sister's hand with her own. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but he is in love with you, Rhaya. That means he knows you and has accepted you as you are. I saw it every time he said your name or we told each other stories about you. He drove us all crazy on that treasure hunt, me in particular," she laughed.

Rhaya gave her a glimmer of a smile. "He did? How?"

"Every minute of the day, he bugged the hell out of me by asking me so many questions about you." Keira turned to her sister with a fond smile on her face. "He's the real deal, honey. Besides, he knows that if he hurts you, he has to answer to me," she declared, which caused Rhaya to laugh.

"Do you think I can fix this?" Rhaya asked with hope in her eyes.

"Hmm. I think it's possible. Might involve some groveling, but I have faith that the two of you can work it out," Keira replied with a wink.

***

After dinner, Dean went on a self-guided tour of the mansion, rather than heading straight back to his room. In the process, he found a courtyard and entered through the open double doors off the main hallway. The area felt like an oasis of calm, which was exactly what he needed after the events of a few hours ago.

In the center was a stone fountain, encircled by a ledge for sitting and listening to the bubbling water. Tendrils of jasmine vines climbed the outside walls of the mansion. The white blooms produced a heady but comforting fragrance during the evening hours. Could be useful, should sleep elude me, he thought.

Benny saw his captain leave the dining room while the rest of the group was sipping on coffee, tea, or whiskey. Jess excused herself early because it was time for John's feeding, while Sam remained behind for the after-dinner drinks and conversation. He noticed Dean was a bit withdrawn at dinner, leading him to conclude that the conversation with Rhaya didn't end well.

He watched as Dean lowered himself to sit on the ledge of the fountain, then tilted his head up toward the night sky. "Hey, there you are, Chief. Whatcha doin' out here? You're missin' drinks with Sam and the governor," he mentioned.

Dean laughed softly as he absently trailed his fingertips through the water. "Nah, not my thing. Good for Sammy, though." He heaved a deep sigh and shook his head gently. "Really made a mess of things, haven't I? I was hoping for a chance to clear things up with her, but she didn't make it to dinner. Guess she couldn't even stand to see me across from her at the table," he muttered.

"Chief, don't be so tough on yourself, and try not to read too much into it. Her father said it was a headache, so I'm sure that's all it was. Give her some time, I'll bet she changes her mind once she's had a chance to think about things," Benny replied.

"I don't think so, Benny. She all but flat-out told me that whatever was between us has run its course, that we're not meant to be together. Instead, she'd rather just remember the good times we had," he remarked.

"Is that what you want?" Benny asked.

"Of course not!" Dean blurted. "I want to be with her so badly it hurts. I'll admit, we didn't really get along at first, but once we got to know each other....she's amazing, Benny. Strong, kind, selfless, and I can't help but be captivated by her. She's tough as nails one minute, then sweet and compassionate the next."

Benny's heart went out to his friend. As upset as his captain was, he knew Rhaya was the only one for Dean. "I know you got to know her real well and you two got close, Chief.  For that reason and so many others, you can't give up. You have to fight for her, at least long enough to tell her how you feel about her," he advised.

"How can I do that if she won't even give me a chance?" he exclaimed. "You know, as smart as she is, and as beautiful as she is, she also can be so--so--" Dean buried his fingers in his hair and growled in frustration as he searched for the right word.

"Stubborn? Headstrong? Infuriating?" a voice called from the doorway. Both men looked at each other in surprise, because the comment definitely didn't come from either of them. Their focus returned to the entrance to the courtyard to see Rhaya standing there, nervously wringing her hands in front of her.

This was the opportunity that Dean needed, so Benny decided to take his leave. On his way out, he paused in the doorway, locked eyes with Rhaya and gave her a reassuring nod. "Take care of him, chérie," he murmured. His hand gently landed on her shoulder and gave it a quick squeeze before he disappeared from sight.

"Good evening, Lady Rhaya," Dean greeted with a quick bow, once he'd recovered his composure.

"Good evening, Your Grace," she replied softly. "You know, this is one of my most favorite places on these grounds. I hope you find it as relaxing as I do."

An awkward silence stretched between them as neither one knew quite what to say to the other. Dean was cautious, not wanting to blurt out something and send Rhaya scurrying away from his presence. Meanwhile, she needed answers, but didn't want to sound demanding. To do so would risk closing the door on any prospect of the two of them remaining together.

The two of them paced around the courtyard, deep in thought, only pausing briefly so as not to run into each other. Rhaya decided to take a seat on the stone ledge surrounding the fountain, with Dean following suit almost immediately after her. She kept her eyes on her hands folded neatly in her lap. At the same time, he studied her, trying desperately to find any clues as to her current state of mind.

The tension in air grew thicker with anticipation, until she broke the silence. She reached over to cover one of his hands with her own, but pulled back at the last second. "Dean, I want to apologize for being terribly unfair to you earlier. I'm sure that whatever kept you away from Ochana for so long must have been important. You're a man of your word, and you've never given me reason to doubt that. I'm so sorry for what I said to you," she confessed, still unable to meet his eyes.

"I had hoped for a warmer reception, considering the length of time we spent apart," he replied. "But I understand why you reacted in the way that you did," he hastily added, covering her hands with his own. "Sweetheart, please look at me," he murmured, reaching over to bring her face within his line of vision. "You deserve to be loved and cherished, and I'm sorry if I did anything to make you think otherwise."

Rhaya jerked her head away from his hand, instantly missing his comforting caress. "You don't have to apologize or say that," she replied with a shy smile. "I mean, I know I'm far too opinionated, I jump to conclusions, and I definitely speak without thinking first. Though, I really should work on all of that, because it leads to a lot of apol--mmpf--" Her self-deprecating ramble was cut off when a pair of plump, soft lips connected with hers.

Dean couldn't bear to hear any more disparaging comments made about the woman he loved, not even from the woman herself. So, he chose to resolve the issue in the simplest way he knew, while at the same time declaring his feelings for her.

The kiss started tentatively at first, as if he was giving her a way out, in case she wanted or needed to take it. As her mouth began to move more confidently with his, he could sense her relaxing into the kiss, so he chose to deepen it. He was rewarded when he slid his tongue along the seam of her lips, begging for entrance and gave a slight groan when she granted it. A small moan of satisfaction escaped from her as their tongues battled for dominance.

One of his hands roamed up her side, from her waist to her back, while his other hand slipped around to tangle his fingers in her hair. A slight pressure to the back of her head gently kept them connected as he devoured her lips in a near-bruising kiss. Rhaya's hands traveled up Dean's chest, until she cradled his neck with both hands. Then her fingers began to twirl themselves around the curled ends of his hair, gently tugging on them.

When the kiss finally broke, they were both panting, each trying to catch their breath from what just happened. Dean leaned his forehead against Rhaya's as he attempted to return his heartbeat to a somewhat normal rhythm. Her hands moved back down to tilt his head up so he could see her eyes and realize the depth of the love she held for him.

"I'm in love with you, Rhaya. Exactly as you are, whether you're outspoken, or whatever, I don't care," he declared. "You're a smart, compassionate, kind, and absolutely beautiful woman who lights up any room she enters. It would mean the world to me if I can call you mine," he added.

"I'm in love with you too, Dean. Exactly as you are, and whether you're a duke or a ship's captain makes no difference to me. And I am yours, as long as you don't mind a woman who knows her way around a ship better than some fancy society function," she remarked with a nervous smile.

Dean glanced lovingly into Rhaya's eyes, his fingertips gently grazing her jawline. "Nah, darlin', I wouldn't have you be any other way. I knew you were meant for me when you threw that dagger at my head, but nailed my hat to the doorframe instead. Ruined a perfectly good hat, I'll have you know," he muttered teasingly.

Rhaya burst into giggles at her memory of that moment. "Great first impression, huh?" she observed sheepishly as she snuggled closer and rested her head on his chest. "I knew that first night you caught me out on deck in my nightclothes. Out of propriety, I was headed back to my room, but you asked me to stay. I'm so glad I did, as it was my first of our many astronomy lessons."

He wrapped his arms around her and sighed deeply in satisfaction when he felt her melt against his body. "Hmm, I remember that," he smiled as he recalled that night. She looked so ethereal that night, with the moonlight giving her strawberry-blond hair a rosy glow as it cascaded down her back.

The two of them stayed locked in each other's arms, with her back leaning against his toned, muscular chest. They sat beside the fountain watching as the moon rose over the hills in the distance. One by one, the stars came into view until there were so many it appeared as though someone painted the heavens in a fine metallic dust. Their excitement grew when a meteor shower began, which sent streaks of light dashing across the inky night sky.

***

After some time had passed, Rhaya pulled herself up into a sitting position and turned to face her captain. "Dean? I have a favor to ask of you," she began nervously.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he inquired.

"Will you....that is, when you....," she stammered, then took a deep breath to calm her frustration with herself before continuing. "After the gala and you return home to Alcaria....will you please take me with you?" she asked timidly.

Half a heartbeat passed before a beaming smile broke out over Dean's face, causing the crinkles around his eyes to appear. "I would be the happiest man in the world if you would return with me to Alcaria," he replied. "I-I was going to ask you, but I wanted to wait until it was the right time. What do you think your father will say?" he wondered.

Rhaya tilted her head in thought at his question. "A long time ago, Keira asked me once to run away with her too, and together we would sail the high seas. I think he would've been supportive of me, had I decided to go then, but I couldn't leave him with Carissa and all of her scheming. She probably would've convinced him to never let me come back," she muttered.

"Fortunately, she's no longer a factor," he smirked. Rhaya matched his grin and nodded, then shifted her position to snuggle further into Dean's chest.

***

The next day, Rhaya asked to speak with her father prior to the gala about an important matter. She met with him alone for afternoon tea while Dean waited outside the doors, in case she needed his support. The longer he waited, the more anxious he grew as he continued to pace out in the hall. His mind drifted to thinking that Lord Darius would forever banish him from Ochana for the mere suggestion of taking his daughter away from her home.

When he could no longer bear to wait, Dean turned on his heel and marched towards the door to the governor's study. Before he could reach for the handle, the door flew open. Rhaya and her father walked out, with the governor pulling him into a warm embrace. "Take care of her," Lord Darius whispered before releasing him. Dean nodded in silent promise to do exactly that and more.

Over the next week, Rhaya set about the task of packing her belongings for her move to Alcaria. She decided to leave behind whatever didn't fit into her largest trunk and one of her duffle bags. Most of her dresses were left hanging in her closet, since she wouldn't have much use for the fancier ones in Alcaria. Newer, more practical garments were already being made and would be finished by the time she left Ochana. Until then, her tunics and trousers would have to suffice.

The evening before his daughter's departure, Lord Darius hosted a gathering for Dean and his crew from The Black Diamond. Keira and Darcy were among the guests, as were Connor and any other members of the house staff wishing to say their goodbyes. Many toasts were made, as were promises of future return visits to the land she'd called home for so many years.

Everyone met down at the docks the next morning for the final farewells. Rhaya promised Darcy that she would come back to Ochana whenever she was able. However, in the meantime, she suggested for her friend to consider accepting Connor's offer to allow him to court her. This brought a deep blush to Darcy's cheeks at Rhaya's advice, followed by a shy glance in the captain of the guard's direction.

The most difficult goodbye was between father and daughter. On one hand, Lord Darius was at peace with his decision for Rhaya to leave the nest and find her place in the world. He knew she had a good man at her side, one who would take the best care of her and treat her the way she deserved.

On the other hand, he would miss seeing her bright smile and loving face every day around the estate. He knew the staff would take the utmost care of him and ensure to the best of their ability that all of his needs were met. The special bond between father and daughter, though, would be impossible to replicate with anyone else. The first few days without Rhaya would be among the hardest, but he knew this was for the best.

Lord Darius gazed fondly at his daughter. In his mind, it was only a short time ago that she was nine years old, deep in her studies but aggressively avoiding her math tutor. Now he marveled at the grown woman before him, of whom he could not be more proud. He held his arms out and she ran to be engulfed in his embrace. "I love you, Papa. Thank you for this amazing opportunity. I'll--We'll come visit as often as we can. Or, maybe we can arrange to host some sort of 'diplomatic function' in Alcaria," she grinned.

He laughed at her solution to enable him to visit her more often. "I'm sure we can work something out, sweet pea. I will miss you, though," he commented fondly as he glanced over in Dean's direction. "He's a good man, Rhaya. I had a rather lengthy discussion with him after you didn't marry Ashton. When the time is right, he knows he has my blessing," he winked.

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as her cheeks blushed furiously at the implication of her father's words. "Papa!" she gently admonished. "It's much too soon for that, we're still getting to know each other."

Lord Darius shrugged. "Perhaps too soon, perhaps not. When you know, you know, just like it was for me with your mother. She'd be so proud of you," he responded with a watery smile. "I certainly am proud of you."

"Oh, Papa," she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck. "I love you so much," she choked out.

"I love you very much, my darling daughter," he whispered.

Not wanting to intrude, Dean kept a few paces' distance away. As father and daughter gave each other one last embrace, he approached them and stood behind Rhaya, his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry to have to do this, my love, but we really must start our journey," he explained. He turned to Lord Darius with his hand outstretched, only to be pulled into a tight but affectionate hug from the man.

"Take care of each other. And remember, you always have a home here on Ochana," Lord Darius remarked gruffly, trying to hold back his tears at Rhaya's departure.

Dean nodded and gently took hold of Rhaya's elbow to guide her towards the gangplank to board his ship. They walked together, hand-in-hand, and when they reached the top, they turned to face the group on the docks. Dean waved goodbye, while Rhaya blew a kiss to her father before also giving a wave.

Once they were on board, the gangplank was removed and the docking ropes were released. The ship left port and began its return to Alcaria with one more passenger than what they arrived with. Dean wrapped his arms around Rhaya from behind as they stood near the bow of the ship while it sailed towards open waters.

"Ready to start your adventure, my love?" he asked.

"As long as I'm with you, I know every day will be an adventure," she replied with a beaming smile. "I love you, O Captain, my Captain."

"And I love you, my darling," he murmured near her ear.

***

Some years later....

"Grandpapa, will you please tell me a story?" seven-year-old Laila pleaded. She was in her pajamas and nestled under her blankets, but there was no way she could sleep without a story.

"All right, Laila," Lord Darius chuckled. "What shall it be this time, princesses and frogs, knights and ogres, or...." he trailed off with a smirk, knowing what she really wanted to hear.

"Pirates, Grandpapa! I want to hear about Mommy and Daddy's adventures on The Black Diamond!" she clapped. She could never get enough of his stories about her parents, and they were the best. He always injected such enthusiasm in the characters as he wove his tales of their adventures. And he could never resist an opportunity to entertain his granddaughter.

"Are you comfy, sweet pea?" Lord Darius asked. Laila nodded enthusiastically, and he took that as his cue. "Very well then. Once upon a time...."

FIN

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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[inconmess]

This is probably going to be a long one... I read this post by @ghostingtheinternet on Orym's quiet trauma and the subsequent reblogs of @4persephone and @sea-buns and it kinda triggered something I have been thinking of recently and putting off posting... so there are going to be tangents and references to that post. Posting it under the cut cuz it got really long *winces*

I was just rewatching some of the earlier episodes so... one thing I noticed about this progression of events is that... There were two major arcs in the beginning - Orym and his search for the assassins and Imogen's quest to research about her powers. It included Chetney's arc to visit the Gorgynei later on once the wolf reared its side and unpredictability but these were the 3 major points, which was equally concentrated on.

Until they discovered the connection between Ruidus and the assassins. Then it started growing big. Imogen and Orym's questions, even though totally different, started getting answers together but now the difference was, Orym was searching answers for something that happened in the past. The "who are the assassins and why did they attack?" While Imogen's was more along the lines of the present. The "What are my powers, how do I get rid of them/control them?" Not to mention them learning about Imogen's mother working with Ludinus and that she was alive.

And it is about that time things shifted and became more focused on Imogen because what Orym experienced and needed answers for are in the past. They know it is personal for him but every single time he talks about it, he says "It's my duty" that they started forgetting it was personal for him too, not just Imogen, who frequently complained about the dreams and insisted on finding her mother, and such. Predathos came up and they realised a lot more was in play but the one visibly affected by it all was Imogen, thereby letting Orym slide to the side. This is also why I think the others letting things slide like Chetney attacking Orym might have occurred. In a larger scale, it wasn't "that big"

Orym being viewed as the stable guy also kinda reflects on the same problem of visibility. Because, in all technicalities, Orym and Fearne are the only ones with no visible ticking bombs no matter how they insisted that Fearne was a ticking bomb because of her tendency to be... pickpocketing and creating chaos? They are the ones who suppressed their feelings the most unless someone kinda confronts them. But Fearne is not viewed to be stable because of her Fey nature and her chaos, which is different from what they experience.

Laudna has her compartmentalizing, yes but while she may not be vocal, it is clearly had her issues with Delilah and they are not sure if the necromancer is still around or not, making her a question mark. Plus her trauma is visible, Like Ashton's, who doesn't know what powers the dunamancy has given them, on top of their visible scars and chronic pain. No one knows when FCG will get over stressed and blow up and the last time they didn't clock it, he attacked them. Imogen, like Ashton, has powers she doesn't understand and destroyed an entire city block with said powers. Chetney is a newly turned werewolf, who has time and again showed he doesn't have complete control over the wolf at certain points and that he's working on it.

So, with 5 being visible ticking bombs and one being unpredictable, it falls onto the only other person in the group to be the moral, stable one. It does not help that he has the guard mentality, due to trauma and training, which makes him put the others before him. One of the major things which might also affect this thought process is the fact that "the others are going through this currently and need a solution now while I have been dealing with my trauma for the past 6 years so it might not be as important" idea he might have. He knows his grief isn't going to miraculously vanish when he finds answers but he knows if he helps his friends find the answers they need and resolve their problems, they would be able to move on.

So he's not going to talk to them. He's not going to burden them. He is just going to suffer quietly because he knows that it won't affect the others as visibly. He might be hurting himself more and more in this quest for answers but it isn't important because it is personal and not visible. He hides it because they need to resolve the problems that are more immediate and thereby festering his own guilt and grief if he isn't able to attain his own answers or heal himself in the process. Be it the hurt of seeing Will again when he died only to come back to life and facing the guilt that he was alive when Laudna is dead. Be it the resignation and the barely held back anger when People debate on whether Ludinus is right and he has to remind people again and again and again that he and many others have suffered personal loses due to the person because of the mad mage of Wildemount.

As @sea-buns said, Ashton looks past that and acknowledges that Orym doesn't always have to be stable and level headed and tries to offer him support, directly and indirectly along with Fearne. And Dorian while he was there because as you mentioned, he is not going to say out loud that "I have a problem! Help!" I think they try their best to make Orym take a step back and relax and not just worry or be caught in his mind, especially after what was revealed during the solstice.

It also reminded me of Orym's conversation with Chetney. He specifically said "I wasn't trying to hide. No one just asked me about it." You ask, he might tell you something to appease but not everything.

He also specifically said to Bor'Dor that he was unassuming and he uses it to his advantage. He is used to being in the background even if people seem to look up to him for support. He is used to being ignored. He is used to being that guy in the corner who is there but people don't notice until he speaks. Or in his case, when he's in a fight.

Deni$e commented on how he had a huge personality, and it is true. The way he holds himself, carries through day to day clearly makes it look like he's holding things together that when he commented on how he's never felt so small, it hits differently.

I don't think Orym will pull a Scanlan but like @4persephone said, rather show it through fights and risky, suicidal moves, running himself to the ground and just suppressing everything until he no longer can.

[greenteaandtattoos]

Hold. The. Phone.

Someone just mentioned to me a theory that Fearne is a hag-in-training, taking after Morri, and my thoughts are racing with the possibilities this opens up. 

I could see Fearne turning on the Hell’s, I do. She’s loyal by nature, true, but she chooses who she puts her full loyalty in, and that’s Orym. Would she betray and leave Orym, who would go through hell and back for each other? Unlikely but consider... 

She’s also chaotic by nature, too, and that chaos may very well overtake that loyalty if given just the right nudge. And what would that be? Well... remember how many of us believe that the coin landed on Laudna, but Fearne chose to revive Orym instead?

If this is the case, and Orym learns of this... he’s going to be pissed. The other Hell’s, especially Imogen, are going to be pissed. But does Fearne actually care about the others? Sure, but not nearly as much as she cares about Orym, and his opinion. 

He confronts her, they fight, words are exchanged, emotions explode, and Fearne is hurt, because why can’t Orym understand why she did it? She had already been left by her parents, why should she lose another of her loved ones? 

She doesn’t take into consideration that Orym, too, has lost loved ones. And the difference between their rage is that Orym’s is fueled by survivor’s guilt, he’s lost his family already, he’d rather die and be with them than see another suffer as he did, while Fearne is fueled by selfishness, loneliness and a feeling of abandonment. She has been lied to her whole life, her purpose as merely a piece in an exchange of business.

It pushes Fearne over the edge. She can’t stand not to be supported by the one person she has given her heart and soul to. She runs. If Orym doesn’t want her, then she doesn’t want him. 

She lets it all loose, her rage, her grief, all concentrated into pure chaotic havoc. It takes the Bell’s some times to get her back to her senses, or at the very least, calm her down enough to talk again.

Because, hey, look! Fresh Cut Grass, Imogen, and Chetney have all had their “sudden violent outburst”, but they still love them. They love her, too, even if they’re upset. Imogen and Fearne are sisters through the light of Ruidus, after all! She of all people understands Fearne’s heartache, just as Orym understands Imogen’s. 

They just need time, but Fearne is wary of time. Time messed up her life. She doesn’t even know if she’s 20 or 200. In that regard, Ashton knows better than anyone what it’s like to have time stolen from you. 

Still, she’s calmer now, after destroying some buildings. She decides she needs some alone time, but promises she’ll come back. She just needs to think. Reflect. The Bell’s agree, promising that they’ll figure out a way to move forward.

Fearne comes back after a while, she seems her normal self. Orym is the first to be suspicious. If Fearne does anything (beyond stealing), it’s cling. Cling to feelings, cling to habits, cling to memories, cling to ambition, cling to people. 

He keeps watch on her through the corner of his eyes. Something’s not right, but he doesn’t want to mention anything yet. He’s still upset, but he doesn’t want to cause more strife between the Hell’s, him, and Fearne. 

And in the dead of night, when everyone is sleeping, Fearne’s face flickers, her furry hindquarters shifting from soft spotted brown to opalescent skin, her ears shrinking and become round, her sea-foam green hair draining of color until it is the color of snow, her wide eyes filling with an ocean of ink. The flowers adorning her body wither and drop to the floor.

A grin crosses her face, but not the mischievous grin the Bell’s are used to. This one is sly. Ashley gets up silently, leaves the room without a word, and in walks a familiar face, just as an equally-familiar face stands where Fearne once did.

[opal-punk]

Hello :3 greystorm is so fun thank you for listening to my ramblings

I still think about Dorian healing Ashton with a kiss on the cheek. I wonder what was going on inside Ashton's head at that moment

They didn't interact a lot before that, then Dorian left, so he must have been surprised and he didn't even have time to figure out how he felt about it... Ashton who avoids physical touch because it hurts, healed with a soft, innocent kiss

And in the aftermath of Ratanish too.. where they got hurt because they wanted someone to NOTICE his pain

Dorian who tells him he's needed, who seems to trust him to protect the group while he's gone

Ashton feeling off kilter in his absence, like there's a question left unanswered, waiting for Dorian to come back and make it make sense

it is!! i am more than happy to listen and provide my own ideas <3

WAILS CRIES SOBS... ashton is so shocked and confused by it, and dorian acts like it wasn't a big deal, as if he hadn't just *kissed their cheek* to heal them.

ashton asks about it and dorian's just like "why wouldn't i?" and leaves it at that which leaves ashton all confused and frustrated

and then dorian LEAVES and leaves ashton having to think it over on their own, and he has to confront feelings after a while and really wishes dorian would come back so they could actually talk about it.

tldr: ashton starts to pine for dorian because of a stupid cheek kiss

[twh-news]

A mischievous god, a reverend and a newly engaged man: Tom Hiddleston has been busy

by Bob Strauss. Photos: Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times

It hardly needs saying, but Tom Hiddleston is a much nicer guy than Loki, the supervillain he’s played in six Marvel movies and an acclaimed Disney+ series, which just started shooting its second season in England.

And despite the Norse God of Mischief’s ubiquity, the Cambridge and Royal Academy of Dramatic Art-educated actor does have other interests. His stage résumé is as impressive as the array of auteurs he’s made movies with: Joanna Hogg, Steven Spielberg, Woody Allen, Terence Davies, Jim Jarmusch, Guillermo del Toro, Ben Wheatley. There’s also prestige TV such as “The Night Manager” and now “The Essex Serpent,” which launched in May on Apple TV+.

Still, “‘Loki,’ ‘Essex Serpent,’ they have occupied the last two years of my life,” Hiddleston notes on a warm afternoon in an L.A. hotel garden.

Of course, there was more to the last several years than “Essex” and the first season of “Loki.” Hiddleston found time in March to propose to Zawe Ashton, his co-star in a 2019 West End revival of Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal.”

“I’m very happy” is all he wants to say about that, perhaps gun-shy regarding personal matters since a super-scrutinized 2016 romance with Taylor Swift. But just get him started on the latest shows ....

“I love playing Loki, have loved playing him every time,” the actor says about Thor’s shape-and-loyalty-shifting brother. “In every story, there’s been a different iteration, a different director, a different spin on the ball, if you like.”

The “Loki” series takes place in a divergent timeline before/after he was killed in the last two “Avengers” movies. This trickster version is detained by a kind of cosmic bureaucracy, the Time Variance Authority, and stripped of his powers if not his arrogance.

“If you take away everything that the character knows and understands, what remains?” Hiddleston submits. “Something will be revealed to us and to Loki about who he is. This idea of him undergoing an almost psychoanalytical interrogation with the TVA’s Mobius, played by Owen Wilson, and being confronted with repetitive patterns of destructive behavior, which only resulted in his loss and loneliness, I found to be extremely exciting.”

Another first, for Marvel and Loki: He came out as bisexual to the series’ other key frenemy, Sophia Di Martino’s Sylvie, a female variant of himself.

“In my research into the character and the ancient stories, Loki’s identity has always been fluid in his gender and sexuality,” Hiddleston notes. “It was a privilege to touch on it this time. I’m aware it’s a small step and there’s further to go, but I hope that people felt represented by it.”

Contemporary concerns are also represented in Sarah Perry’s bestselling historical novel “The Essex Serpent.” It’s set in a scientifically advancing 1893, while superstitions still haunt the Blackwater Estuary on England’s eastern coast. People go missing, a big underwater thing is bumping into fishermen’s boats, and some believe a folklore dragon has returned.

Claire Danes plays Cora Seaborne, recently widowed from an abusive marriage and an amateur paleontologist, who comes up from London to investigate. An attraction grows between her and the local, married vicar, Hiddleston’s Will Ransome. All six episodes were directed by another of the actor’s admired auteurs, Clio Barnard (“The Arbor,” “Dark River”).

“I loved this combination of her and the story,” Hiddleston says. “It deals with some very resonant themes: uncertainty, fear and how fear of what we don’t understand can sometimes collectively distort reality. There’s an ideological debate between science and religion that’s staged in the dynamic between Cora and my character, the very progressive but nevertheless faithful reverend of the community.

“In my research into the character and the ancient stories, Loki’s identity has always been fluid in his gender and sexuality,” Hiddleston notes. “It was a privilege to touch on it this time. I’m aware it’s a small step and there’s further to go, but I hope that people felt represented by it.”

“It felt like with the pandemic, we all had to manage so much uncertainty,” he continues. “It’s about that, but of course there’s a very psychological metaphor about the serpent, things that lie beneath the surface.”

Hiddleston tried to be a gracious host to his American co-star when they filmed in the Essex salt marshes 13 months ago but fears he might have gone too far.

“It’s windy and it’s muddy and it’s wet,” he says of the shoot. “Claire was incredibly game about all of that. I became a kind of cliché Englishman, endlessly promising that the weather would improve. Every day I’d be like, ‘It’s going to get better, Claire! Just you wait, the spring in England is lovely!’”

Cliché, or in actuality a particularly nice chap?

“I was very lucky when I was younger,” Hiddleston reckons, regarding his reputation. “I worked with some great actors, and I could see that they were very committed to the work and very kind, inspiring in that way. I was junior to Kenneth Branagh and Judi Dench and Chiwetel Ejiofor and Ewan McGregor; these are the best of guys doing it.

“I try to put my best foot forward,” he concludes, then adds with a sheepish grin, “It’s hard to address that.”

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Awkward/Bad Flirting Masterlist

Links Last Checked: May 7th, 2024

a change of heart and a silver lining (ao3) - bellawritess luke/calum T, 18k

Summary: Calum’s not obsessed with routine or anything, but he does become accustomed to certain constants in life. Michael is always about eight minutes late. Ashton always records vocals barefoot. Calum always knows the person behind the register at Bake Station.

Except today. Today it’s a stranger, though admittedly a stranger who looks enough like Jack that Calum can easily connect the dots.

“Hi there,” says the bloke in Jack’s place, giving Calum a bright smile. “What can I get for you today?”

If this is Luke Hemmings, Calum’s fucked.

(OR: wrong number AU and strangers to lovers bakery AU battled and this was the outcome.)

and what if you'd never smiled at me (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 14k

Summary: Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.

Daydreams - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) michael/luke, luke/calum T, 6k

Summary: It's not Michael's fault the owner of Fletcher's Flowers is so good-looking. And no one—Luke—should be able to blame him for wanting to come to the shop and admire the pretty buff man with large delicate hands as he assembles bouquets or pets his cat.

home is wherever you are tonight (ao3) - lifewasradical luke/ashton M, 72k

Summary: Life has become so mundane in the past few years that there’s very little that sends a thrill up Luke’s spine anymore. It’s that idea that had him saying yes to the idea of moving out here for a few weeks anyways: the knowledge that this was a completely new place where no one knew his name. He could be anyone he wanted to be here, within reason. He wouldn’t be seeing any of these people again after May, so what’s the harm in becoming a new person for a bit? Someone not so bogged down by the shit in their head that they can’t get out of bed some mornings. Maybe this is a step in the direction of the person Luke wants to be in the future anyways.

Or, Luke inherits a beach house on a tiny coastal island that needs some work. He didn't plan on falling in love with the guy at the hardware store.

life is never like this (ao3) - merlypops michael/ashton, luke/calum T, 24k

Summary: The war is over and Ashton finds it hard to carry on until he meets Michael. Life goes on for Luke and Calum.

Looks Like He Can Surf (ao3) - LyricalPary (hoseoky) luke/ashton E, 174k

Summary: They spend the summer before university in an old beach house. Luke meets the human embodiment of sunshine. Just like the ocean waves, sometimes people are unpredictable.

Make You Banana Pancakes (ao3) - dafeedil michael/luke T, 2k

Summary: It's not that he has, like, a crush on Michael, or whatever. Because he mostly doesn't. It's just that sometimes, when they're all domestic like this on the Saturday mornings they share exclusively, he feels like he does.

(or, Michael has one night stands on Fridays, and in order to avoid confronting them the next morning, he goes to Luke's apartment for breakfast and a bit of conversation.)

Mixology (ao3) - dafeedil luke/ashton, michael/calum E, 23k

Summary: In which Michael is reeling from a recent breakup, Calum has just flunked a semester of university, Luke has never taken a risk in his life, and Ashton has taken too many.

One night, four boys, one Los Angeles bar. A recipe for...well, quite possibly, not disaster.

(or, they all meet at a bar and fall hopelessly in love for the night. Only, it's actually a lot more than that.)

Risky Risqué - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/ashton, michael/crystal E, 22k

Summary: It's only his freshman year in college and Luke is having too many problems. One, he can barely afford to feed himself. Two, the junior in the dorm next door has way too pretty hazel eyes and keeps offering to make him dinner.

Or, the one where Luke needs a job to pay his tuition and ends up getting one as a phone sex operator.

Rockstar - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) T, 5k

Summary: “I’m gonna buy you a drink.”

Ashton mumbles, his cheeks feeling hot and his body feeling lost, “Just one.”

And it really is just the one.

It’s just one drink.

Scene 14 - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/ashton E, 128k

Summary: the one where Luke hates Ashton but has to pretend to be in love with him for five months for his acting final except for the fact that maybe he isn't pretending anymore.

Sick - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) ot4 E, 3k

Summary: Luke (5:06 pm): calum wont fuck me 🥺

the flatmate arrangement (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 20k

Summary: Hi Calum/Poor Struggling Paralegal,   So I’ll be upfront with you. It’s a one-bed flat. I also live here. HOWEVER before you delete this and think I’m a freak, I work nights so I wouldn’t be here anytime you would be. You can have the flat exclusively from 6 pm to 8 am, Saturday night and all day Sunday. Understand this sounds like a bit of a crazy arrangement but I could do with the cash, let me know what you think?

Luke Hemmings (Poor Struggling Children’s Nurse)

A 'The Flatshare' AU

The Taste of Ink (ao3) - hukelemmings (dafeedil) michael/luke G, 4k

Summary: “S’not funny,” Luke spits.

“S’really fucking funny,” Michael replies effortlessly, wiping dampness from his eyes as he winds himself down, the occasional chuckle wracking his body. “Never had that reaction before. Surely you know people do that, right? Dick piercings are an actual thing.”

Luke rolls his eyes, because duh, he knew those kinds of body modifications existed, he just didn’t sign up for looking at pictures of other people’s penises, thanks.

Or, Luke gets his lip pierced, and Michael is the technician that does it for him.

you call me up (but you got my number wrong) (ao3) - FayeHunter, lifewasradical luke/calum T, 16k

Summary: Calum (12:00pm) Hi. I got this number from a friend. I wanted to know if you were still offering tutoring services for Biology

Unknown number (12:08pm) Sorry, who is this?

Or, Calum accidentally texts the wrong number.

[svartalfhild]

Ashna 26!

26. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Ashton had never lost control before. Not completely. Not like this. And there was nothing he feared and hated more than not having control of himself and his life, so now, back on the skyship at last, he was staying away from his friends. He didn't want to hurt them, and for some of them, the mere thought made him feel sick. There was something wrong with him, something he didn't understand, and until he got a handle on that, this was best for everyone.

They leaned against the railing on the deck of the ship, gazing out at the orange and purple hues of the setting sun and trying to distract themself by deciding what the shapes of the clouds looked like.

"Ashton?" they heard the soft and familiar voice of Laudna call out from behind them. Several conflicting emotions jolted through their chest in response.

"No," he said flatly without turning.

"No?" She was closer now.

"No, I'm not okay, and no, you shouldn't be out here alone with me." This did not deter her. She came up to stand beside him, grasping the rail with her left hand so close to his right that they weren't in contact and yet he felt that electric sensation of proximity.

"I'm not afraid of you." Ashton gave a bittersweet laugh at this. They were touched by Laudna's trust in them, but it might well get her hurt.

"Maybe you should be."

"You're in control right now, aren't you? We'll figure this out. You've never given up on me, so I'm not giving up on you, alright?" Laudna insisted, and he couldn't help but smile a little.

"Well, when you put it that way." She smiled at him in return, and he relaxed slightly, letting some of the tension out with a sigh. For a few moments, they stood in companionable silence, Laudna waiting patiently for him to speak when he felt like it, before he went on. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. I'm glad I didn't hurt you, 'cause that just would've been...too much. If I ever seem like I'm gonna hurt you, get the fuck away and let the others handle it, alright? It can't be you." Ashton pressed a hand to his left brow as he spoke, his expression becoming slightly pained, as if he were trying to push the anxiety out of his head.

"Why? I know I'm made of twigs and paper, but I do have a few tricks up my sleeve," Laudna responded somewhat indignantly.

"It's not about that." They stared at her intensely, willing her to understand things they didn't really know how to articulate, but she only narrowed her dark eyes at them.

"Then what's it about?" How was he supposed to say any of the things swimming around in his head right now? He wasn't good at this, and for once in his life, it really mattered to him whether he fucked it up or not.

"I fucking care about you, Laudna," they blurted out. "And I don't care about a lot of people, but you're at the top of the fucking list." They almost felt dizzy as they said this, and part them screamed at them to walk away, to not confront this any further, but they stayed rooted to the spot, still staring at Laudna with unwavering intensity. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open as she struggled to reply. Her hand found their arm and gently squeezed it.

"Ashton...I...I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just need you to understand." At this, Laudna slowly leaned up and pressed her cold, purple lips to his cheek in a soft kiss.

"If you're trying to get me to stay away, you're doing a shit job of it," she teased, and he raised his eyebrows.

"Am I?"

"Yes, very." She hugged his arm and rested her cheek against his shoulder, prompting him to sigh.

"Okay, well, in my defense, it's hard not to want you around." This earned him a grin and a satisfied chuckle from Laudna.

"I promise we'll figure out what's wrong, and if things get out of hand again, I'll try to stay out of reach. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise?" she asked, becoming serious again.

"For now."

The two of them remained as they were for a some time after this, silently gazing at the breathtaking view around them. Life was so fucked up, especially for them, but it was moments like this that made the terrible shit a little less terrible.

"I care about you too Ashton," Laudna eventually said, almost too quietly to hear over the wind. He smiled and placed his hand over hers on his arm. She sure made it fucking hard to walk away.

[normallyxstranger]

Fictober22 (@fictober-event) Day 18 — "I don't think this is your problem."

featuring Vinnie Foster & Casey Jennings — characters from The New Ashton Chronicles, written & role-played by F.R. Southerland (@normallyxstranger | @frsoutherlandauthor | www.frsoutherland.com) © October 2022

original fiction

general warnings: strong language, violence mention

     One look and Vinnie knew it—Casey was mad. And not just mad, but absolutely furious. Color rose high in the blonde’s cheeks. Her blue eyes were bright, almost feverish. Her hands balled into fists—so tight her arms began to shake.

     Hating the idea of confrontation, or that confrontation escalating into a fight, she reached for Casey’s sleeve. “Don’t—” 

     But Casey pulled her arm back, side-stepping away from Vinnie. “I’m gonna hit him. I’m gonna hit him right in his stupid fucking face.”

     The knot in Vinnie’s throat dropped to her stomach. Oh, no fighting. Please do not fight. “Casey, don’t. Please. Let’s just walk away. You don’t need to fight.”

     “Yeah, Casey,” the tallest of the boys mocked. “You don’t need to fight.” His two friends laughed. 

     “Like she could anyway,” one said.

     Oh boy. 

     “Casey!” Vinnie managed to grab hold of her arm, pulling her back. “No. Please.” She pleaded now, her voice rising. “Just leave them alone. Let’s go.” They were outnumbered anyway, and the boys were definitely bigger and stronger-looking than they were. Plus, Vinnie wasn’t really a fighter, unless it came to magic and only then was she more drawn to the defensive. 

     In short, it was a fight they weren’t going to win.

     They continued to laugh and Vinnie continued to tug on Casey’s arm until her friend pulled back finally. Her face turned up in a sneer. “Motherfuckers,” she spat at them, turning her back as Vinnie hurried them away.

     They moved fast, feet shuffling on pavement, the sound of obnoxious laughter fading behind them. Vinnie didn’t dare risk a look back, not until they were far enough away. When she did, she found the boys gone. She breathed a sigh of relief.

     “What the hell was that about?” she asked, looking over at Casey. 

     Anger still crowded the blonde’s features. “A bunch of bullshit. Dumbasses keep making trouble for me at work.” She scoffed. “I don’t think this is your problem. I can handle it.”

     Brow furrowing, Vinnie once more pulled on Casey’s arm—this time to stop her. “What are you talking about? If you have a problem, it’s my problem too.”

     From the corner of her eye, Casey looked at her. “I said I can handle it.” 

     “I know what you said. Look—I’m your friend. We’re friends. And I told you once before, I’d help you with your problems. And that means now too. With those assholes.” She reached down, taking Casey’s hand in hers before she could resist or step away. When she squeezed back, Vinnie let out a sigh.

     “I know that, but it’s not a big deal. It’s just stupid boys being stupid.” 

     “Yeah. Maybe I can curse them for you later,” Vinnie said. She wasn’t serious, not really, but boy did it feel good to see Casey’s anger replaced with a smile.

      “Yeah. Maybe.” She gave Vinnie’s hand another squeeze.