#❝ — love affairs 》 ash x tempest

[thewcllingtons]

❣️ + ash & tem

SEND ME ❣️ + A SHIP AND I’LL TELL YOU…     [   VOL. 2   ] 

Who is the little spoon? I feel like the obvious answer is Tem, but I think what actually happens is Ash sleeps on his back and Tem curls up next to him, with her face in his shoulder. Tem was probably the little spoon when she was pregnant though

Who sings in the shower? I’d say both tbh lol. I could see there being like a shower bluetooth speaker that they both use for unsavory and savory reasons~

Who plays pranks on the other? Ash pranks Tem all the time

Who is the one who listens to pop music? Tem mostly, but Ash is used to it because of Delilah

Who brings the other a random cup of joe? They’re both good at reading each other so I’d say it depends on the situation. It’s even in this case

Who picks the cheesy movies for date night? Tem picks because she wants to know Ash’s limits

Who is more likely to feed the other in public? Ash 1000% He’d wipe her ass if he had to, feeding her or doing anything like tying her shoe is completely normal

Who gives the other random little compliments? Tem for sure because Ash teases her more, he’s more naughty with his compliments

Who is always stealing food from the other’s plate? I’d say Tem would steal from Ash, but they probably just share food at this point

Who is more likely to let the other borrow their car? Tem is now a forever passanger princess, but he’d let her borrow the car if she needed

Who makes the list before they go grocery shopping? Tem for sure. Ash is along for the ride

Who makes sure the other takes their meds when sick? They both take care of each other

Who watches sports and has to teach the other the rules?  Ash watches sports and he’d teach Tem if she wanted to

Who pulls the other to their feet for a dance in the living room? Ash totally loves to dance with is soon-to-be wife 

Who has to keep reminding the other to hurry or they’ll be late? They’re both super timely so I doubt that’d happen unless it was because of the kids

Who is the one most likely to get a tattoo with the other’s name? Ash would totally get a tattoo of Tempest name anywhere she wanted, he’d even do it on his ass

[hysterialevi]

Hjarta | Chapter 11

Fanfic summary: In an AU where Eivor was adopted by Randvi’s family instead, he ends up falling in love with the man his sister has been promised to despite the arranged marriage between their clans.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male Eivor

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

A WHILE LATER

BJORNHEIMR, THE LONGHOUSE

Pain. That was all he could see.

As Sigurd walked side-by-side with Ulfar through the longhouse’s doors, he heard nothing but the agonized groans of fallen warriors, and the devastated cries of survivors who were now mourning their loved ones.

The horrid stench of smoke and death clung stubbornly onto the wooden walls, and with so many fresh corpses now littering the village, they had what looked like a battlefield sitting on their very doorstep.

It was a nightmare come to life. Even though Sigurd was no stranger to the morbidity of war -- he had grown up in the midst of one, after all -- it was still enough to make his stomach churn, and his heart ache.

How could this have happened? And during such a joyous event as well? Today was meant to be a day for their clans to celebrate; to enjoy themselves. But instead, they were now taking shelter in the longhouse, and being forced to isolate themselves from the mayhem that lurked outside. 

It looked like Muspelheim itself had razed Bjornheimr’s streets, and frankly, Sigurd didn’t know how they were going to recover from this.

“Poor woman...” Ulfar said, gazing in Ingrida’s direction. At the moment, the seeress was holding Eirik’s body in her arms and gently stroking his forehead, comforting him as if he had contracted a simple ailment. Not a single word was being uttered from her lips, and yet, the lifelessness of her expression was enough to say everything.

“No parent should have to lose their child,” Ulfar remarked, his voice heavy with sorrow. “I can’t imagine what that woman is going through right now.”

The prince followed his line of sight. “What happened to Eirik? How did he die?”

“I have no idea. He approached me and Eivor at the temple just before the assault was launched... with three arrows in his back. He wanted me to tell Ingrida something, but... he slipped away before he could get the words out.”

The older man’s brow crinkled with anger. “Those bastards. Kjotve’s men didn’t even have the honor of giving Eirik a warrior’s death. They shot him down like a dog.”

Sigurd sighed in frustration, crossing his arms in a stern manner. “...How did this even happen? You and I spent so much time planning the defenses of this village. We cleared the forest of Kjotve’s camps. How is it that his people overwhelmed us so easily?”

Ulfar’s eyes narrowed with skepticism. “I have the same question. It’s possible that Kjotve’s been planning this for a while, but... still. I’d be lying if I said the efficiency of this attack wasn’t suspicious.”

Bringing their conversation to a halt, a nearby series of footsteps suddenly made its way into the building, drawing both the men’s attention to the doorway.

In the distance, Sigurd saw Eivor dragging himself into the longhouse with his father’s axe in hand, still as bleak as before. His head sank with a profound sense of melancholy, and his feet lingered behind him in a manner that made it seem as if chains holding him down.

At first, the prince expected Eivor to say something to Ulfar upon entry, but instead, he simply drifted past the two of them without a single word, and headed out into the training yard adjacent to the longhouse.

“...Do you think he’ll be alright?” Sigurd asked, watching as the man slipped away.

Ulfar shrugged. “I cannot say. Eivor has always been strong, but even the strongest of men have their weaknesses. Kjotve has caused him much pain ever since he was a child. It will take him time to recover from this battle.”

The prince’s voice softened at the thought of a recent memory. “...Eivor told me about his parents a while ago, you know. About how Kjotve killed them.”

“Then you understand the gravity of what happened today. Kjotve trying to kill Eivor in the same way he murdered Varin -- it’s an insult deserving of an axe to the chest. I’ll be surprised if the boy lets this go.”

Sigurd paused for a moment, allowing the realization to settle in. “...Eivor nearly gave up Valhalla in exchange for my survival. He was willing to die without a fight... just to ensure that I lived.”

Ulfar nodded, recalling his conversation with Eivor all those years ago. “Yes. Because in the end, you were more important to him than anything Valhalla could’ve offered. He spent the past thirteen years dreaming of the day he’d finally get revenge, and he sacrificed it for you. I hope you understand that, Sigurd.”

“Of course. I owe him my life.”

“Indeed.”

Sigurd decided to follow Eivor and began making his way out of the longhouse, hoping to catch the young man before he disappeared. 

“Wait here,” he told Ulfar. “I’ll go speak with him. I want to see how he’s doing.”

“Hold a moment.” The raider said, stopping Sigurd in his tracks.

“Yes? What is it?”

The older man fell silent for a second, pondering how to broach the subject.

“Before you go, Sigurd, there’s something else you should be aware of.” Ulfar lowered his voice, ensuring that no one else could hear him. “...I know about your relationship with Eivor.”

Sigurd’s heart skipped a beat, and the color drained from his face. “You-- what?”

“Eivor confided in me during the wedding,” Ulfar explained. “He had quite a lot on his mind, and was willing to tell me about your affair. Have no fear, though. I won’t expose your secret. He entrusted me with this matter, and I have no intentions of betraying that trust. However, there is something I need to make clear.”

The prince listened intently, worried about where this was going. “...Alright, then. Speak your mind.”

The raider crossed his arms. “It pains me to separate Eivor from someone who makes him happy, but for the sake of this alliance, I must insist that you keep things at a platonic level if you wish to console him. I realize it’s not always that easy, but our clans need each other to win this war. If your marriage with Randvi falls apart, so does our bond.”

Sigurd took his words to heart, regardless of how reluctant he may have been to accept reality.

“I understand, Ulfar. You have nothing to fear. I wouldn’t jeopardize this marriage.”

Ulfar didn’t look entirely convinced. “I hope so. You have my trust for now, Sigurd, but just remember -- I don’t give it blindly.” He turned away from the prince, dismissing him with a wave of the hand. “Anyway, go and see Eivor. I imagine he’s somewhere in the training yard. If the two of you wish to join me later, I’ll be speaking with the jarl and your father in the war room. We have much to discuss.”

“I will.”

“Look after that boy, Sigurd,” Ulfar said, striding to the front of the longhouse. “He cares about you more than you realize.”

~~~~~~~~~~

THE TRAINING YARD

Stepping back out into the open, Sigurd welcomed himself into the deserted training yard as he scanned the area for Eivor, admittedly reluctant to wander through the aftermath of the recent battle. The thick scent of smoke and ash immediately smacked him across the face once he was outside, and even now, he could still feel the heat of the raging fires consuming their entire village.

He imagined Eivor’s state of mind must’ve been dire, if he was willing to take solace in an environment like this. Bjornheimr was hardly recognizable after the chaos Kjotve wreaked, and yet, the young man found it preferable to staying within the confines of the longhouse.

Sigurd supposed it was understandable, considering his exchange with the enemy. Kjotve could’ve cut Eivor down in the midst of a proper holmgang, but instead, he decided to do something worse. He took away his honor.

He degraded the Wolf-Kissed with the same impossible dilemma he once thrust upon Varin, and now, the nightmare would only haunt Eivor again. The gods would know of his swift surrender and declare it as an action of cowardice, and he would likely receive judgement from his fellow clan members.

In Sigurd’s eyes though, the man was a hero. He sacrificed one of the greatest honors known to Midgard in exchange for his family’s safety, and he did so with barely any hesitation. He displayed more courage than Sigurd had ever seen from anyone else in his life, and yet, he would have to reclaim his honor simply because he was willing to put down his axe.

It was a series of events laden with unfairness in Sigurd’s opinion, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change it nonetheless.

Roaming closer to the training yard, Sigurd’s head perked up in interest when the sound of metal scraping against wood suddenly reached his ears, drawing his focus to a nearby tree. There, he saw Eivor himself fervently slashing his axe against the trunk, letting out occasional shouts of anger.

His movements were erratic and driven by rage, and at certain points, the prince even feared he might chop down the whole tree. Eivor seemed to be trapped in a tempest of fury that Sigurd had never witnessed in the past, and frankly, he was concerned about the man’s well-being.

“Eivor?” He called out. The younger man swung his axe one more time before coming to a halt, giving Sigurd no more than a brief glance.

“...What?” He replied sharply, speaking through rapid breaths.

The prince approached his friend, careful not to provoke him any further.

“I don’t mean to disturb you,” he said gently, “but... I was worried. You disappeared from the longhouse so quick. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

Eivor turned around, revealing the glower that had been branded into his face.

“How do you think I’m doing?” He snapped, lodging the weapon’s blade into the wood. “The gods granted me the chance to kill Kjotve after thirteen years... and I wasted it! He was right there. He was right in front of me. I could’ve done something -- anything! Even if it killed me, it would’ve been better than surrendering!”

He stormed away from the tree and began pacing around the yard, attempting to recompose himself.

“By Odin, I’m such an idiot. I’ve spent my entire life preparing for this moment. Waiting for it. I’ve endured countless days of training, planning -- everything you can think of. I’ve placed offer after offer at the feet of the gods, just begging them for the chance to bury my axe in Kjotve’s chest. And what do I do when they finally give it to me?” Eivor kicked a rock resting by his feet. “I walk away.”

Sigurd gazed at the man in sympathy, wishing he could comfort him somehow.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss yourself, Eivor. You may have let Kjotve slip from your grasp for now, but remember why you did it. You did it to save your family. You did it to save me. I... I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t shown up. I owe you my life.”

Eivor plopped himself on the ground and sat against the longhouse’s walls, staring upwards at the smoke-riddled sky.

“Perhaps I should be proud of myself, then,” he said, “but I’m not. If anything, I just feel like a fool. I feel like... like I’ve failed my father. Like I’ve wasted everything he did for me.”

Sigurd took a seat next to the Wolf-Kissed, allowing his feet to rest for the moment. “You’re too hard on yourself, drengr. Your father would understand. He was once in the same position as you, after all. Not only that, but he also made the same choice. He would be proud of your sacrifice.”

Contrary to what the older man expected, Eivor only seemed to grow more bitter.

“I guess. But-- why are you even here? I thought you’d be in the longhouse, looking after the villagers with Randvi. What are you doing out here talking to me?”

“Randvi has her own duties to take care of, and so do I. But I wanted to see you first. Just because I’m married now doesn’t mean I don’t care about you anymore, Eivor.”

The man shook his head. “Well, you shouldn’t. You can’t afford to care about me, Sigurd. You have a wife now. A future queen. She’s the one you need to be focused on. Not me.”

Sigurd was admittedly taken aback by the coldness in his tone, but brushed it off nonetheless. He knew Eivor was hurting at the moment, and it felt wrong for him to hold that against him.

“Eivor...” he said softly, “listen to me. Kjotve may have escaped from our grasp today, but we are not letting him go. Ulfar is devising a plan in the war room as we speak. We will find him again. You will get your chance.”

The young man sighed out of exhaustion, causing his shoulders to slouch. “...I hope so. I’ve fought too hard for this war to end now. I can’t let Kjotve get away. Not when I’m so close. I just pray that the gods will deem me worthy of a second chance.”

Sigurd gave him a reassuring nod. “They will. This fight isn’t over yet, Eivor. In fact, it’s hardly begun. We haven’t seen the last of Kjotve. I know it.”

Eivor dragged a hand down his face and drifted off into silence, staring at the clouds of smoke forming in the distance. By now, they had completely blotted out the sapphire embrace of the sky above, and darkened the land beneath with a looming shadow.

Particles of ash fluttered through the air like autumn leaves twirling in the wind, and in the distance, Eivor saw nothing but a shroud of fire obscuring the horizon beyond.

As for the man himself, he seemed to have calmed down somewhat compared to when Sigurd first arrived. A glimmer of hope had returned to the blankness of his empty gaze, but a grim veil of despair still clung onto his expression. He had lost every shred of the motivation that once fueled him, and even now, the pain of losing a loved one to an arranged marriage continued to pester him.

“...Kjotve ruined my life that night, you know.” Eivor said, devoid of any emotion. “He took away my family, my home -- everything that I loved. The only life I ever knew was stolen from me in an instant, and the whole world shifted into something that I no longer recognized.” The young man peered at his companion, still leaning against the wall. “...He must die, Sigurd. Not just for me, but for everyone he’s hurt.”

The prince rested an elbow on his knee. “Kjotve’s judgement will come. The gods know of his cruelty just as we do. The Nornir will cut his thread soon enough.”

“Then let’s pray that I live long enough to witness that day.”

Taking a second to gather himself, Eivor broke free from the cage barring his mind for just a moment and looked Sigurd in the eye, returning to the same man the prince knew so well.

“...Anyway. Thank you for coming to check on me, Sigurd.” He whispered. “I appreciate it. I apologize if I was somewhat... harsh earlier. I’m just so lost right now.”

Sigurd wasn’t bothered. “I understand. We all have a breaking point. Even you. What’s important is that you don’t let it hold you down forever.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “But sometimes, the temptation to give up is almost irresistible. The idea of being able to forget about all this, and live my life without fear or conflict -- it’s something that grows more alluring by the day. But I know I can’t let myself fall prey to these thoughts. I need to stay focused. I need to keep fighting. Even if it leads me into the Valkyries’ arms.”

Sigurd leaned closer to Eivor and placed a hand over his, mindlessly stroking it as if it were second nature.

“Well, wherever this path takes us, just remember that I’m here for you. You’ve saved my life multiple times already. It’s the least I can do.”

Suddenly realizing what he was doing, the prince came to an abrupt pause and instantly retreated his hand, silently cursing himself for not putting a leash on his affections. He backed away from Eivor and averted his eyes, stumbling over his next words.

“...F-Forgive me. I didn’t mean to--”

“--It’s alright.” Eivor interrupted. “You don’t have to explain.”

A deep sigh escaped Sigurd’s lips. “I just don’t understand why it’s so difficult to ignore the way I feel. I’m a married man now. Shouldn’t that be enough to hinder my fondness for you? Why does this always happen?”

The younger man offered some advice. “The best thing you can do right now, Sigurd, is to avoid me entirely. We both know how challenging it is to conceal our true thoughts. Perhaps we shouldn’t give them the chance to cross our minds at all.”

“But I can’t just pretend like you don’t exist. I still want you in my life, Eivor. I still want to be near you. We may not have the option of being together like before, but you’re not somebody I want to forget.”

Eivor’s face dimmed with sorrow. “Well, you may have to. For the sake of this alliance. Things are precarious enough as it is. We can’t risk anyone else finding out about our previous encounters.”

Sigurd disagreed. “You’re important to me. Nothing’s going to change that, no matter how much I may have to restrain myself. I just wish things were easier.”

The older man decided to put this conversation to an early end and rose from the ground, not wanting to let his emotions fester any longer.

“Anyway... I should get going. I imagine Ulfar’s still speaking with the jarl, and I’d like to join him. Do you want to come with me?”

Eivor refused the offer. “I’d rather be alone right now. I’ve had enough of discussing war and politics for one day.”

“Of course, I understand. You must be exhausted. Take this time to get some rest. I’ll tell you the outcome of our discussions later.” Sigurd took a few steps away from the Wolf-Kissed, leaving him alone on the ground. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you around, Eivor. Please, stay safe. Now that we know Kjotve is merely a stone’s throw away from Bjornheimr, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The young man remained seated on the grass. “The same goes for you, Sigurd. Be careful out there. You’re the last person I want to lose.”

“Oh, believe me,” Sigurd replied, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

[thewcllingtons]

ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ ꜰᴛ. ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇꜱᴛ

This had been going so well for the pair. They had finally moved in together, found out they were having twins and girls had finally started warming up to one another. Ash couldn’t have dreamed for anything more than this, but his mind was racked with more important issues. The manor had found him again. He had successfully hidden himself away and lived evasively for over a decade. It had almost seemed that they had forgotten about him, that was until he got a call by Everleigh. Her cold voice was as haunting as he remembered. The stakes were even higher now that the ginger knew about Tempest and the girls. A part of him was thankful they hadn’t found out she was pregnant, but he knew he couldn’t hide that for long. Everleigh gave him a simple choice; he goes to work for the manor or they take out his whole family. He didn’t hesitate to pick the first option, but it seemed that the black cloud that loomed over the manor covered him once again.

Ash had a rather addictive personality. He easily masked it with things he could get away with in crowd, anything to bury the trauma. Even in his relationship with Tempest, he found himself switching his vice from alcoholism to sex. There were no complaints from her in that regard, but there wasn’t enough sex in the world to keep out the demons the manor brought. It instantly numbed him. Long gone were the days that he’d stay at home to spend quality time with the kids. He was out all times of nights, doing whatever job they gave him, and he came straight home to bury himself in whatever booze he could find. It wasn’t that Ash could simply explain the situation to Tempest. He hadn’t even gotten to talking about the manor due to his superstition that talking about it would make it reappear in his life. How could he tell his girlfriend that their lives were at risk? Tempest was just halfway through the pregnancy with the twins. He knew that the anxiety would probably cause her to freak out and possibly go into early labor, so he brushed it off as a family thing. He never talked about family so he knew it would be strange. It was the best he could do.

Tonight was no exception. It happened to be the worst night since his return to the manor. Ash didn’t mind taking people out. That was the easy part. The hard part was coming home and pretending like it never happened. He couldn’t wrap his mind how he used to switch between each side of himself, but he remembered that he was solo then. He didn’t have to watch a household or take care of a business. All the thoughts and alcohol went straight to his heard, and he managed to pass out in the garden with a beer in hand. He awoke to Tempest attempting to wake him up. Looking around at all the bottles below his feet, he didn’t remember drinking all that last night. His head was pounding so hard that he missed nearly every inquiry she sent his way.  ❝ I’m sorry... It’s just been a really rough night. I didn’t want to wake you or the girls, so I wanted to wait until dawn before I snuck in. ❞   Crushing his head in his palms in attempts to alleviate all the pressure in his head, ❝ I’ll clean this all up. I just need a minute. ❞ // @decadentias

[thewcllingtons]

🕯️ (Ashtem)

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character.

Ash couldn't have predicted a better night than tonight. He already made plans to make it a date night in for Tempest, but everything seemed to fall in line perfectly. He knew the importance of kindling the flame between them but they struggled with fatigue since the twins were born. Everytime they attempted something. Even when they had a night out with a sitter, the pair always ended up catching up on rest instead of having a good time. Which is why the twins falling asleep early tonight was much appreciated.

Ash decided to whip up a little treat while Tempest got the girls ready for bed. A little apple crumble with whip cream. A bit of dessert before the main course if you will. The thought of a night alone made him grin from ear to ear. Spending time with Tempest was his favorite past time. Not that he didn't love when they spent time as a family. Ash had difficulty not being around his children for more than an hour due to how much his missed them; he just missed having adult time. He could just picture the crude joke he'd say just to get her to pause, and bite back. The way she'd try to move away from his neck kisses cause his beard tickled her too much. The sweet kisses she would give him first thing in the morning while he attempted to escape the bed to go out to the garden and check on the girls.

He just wished that they were married already. Everyday, he was closer to just saying fuck it and going to the courthouse, but he knew it would be important to wait for the full even. It was important for their girls to see that they deserved such extravagance. A man that loved them, cherished them, and wanted to show them off to the world. He wanted Tempest to feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. Showing her off as the light that saved him from his darkness; the one that gave him hope to live again. To dream again. And here they were, living that dream, with a house full of love and care.

The male lost himself in the daydream of marriage. He almost forgot to take out the mini bake out of the oven. He'd miss it if it weren't for the timer. Continuing with the good energy and vibes of the moment, he moved to turn on the radio. Ash had a queue of older romantic songs. He loved to dance while he cooked in the kitchen. The faint tune of Love is Strange playing on the little speaker. Ash didn't want to accidentally wake up the girls. It didn't stop him from singing along to the music while rummaging in the fridge for the whip cream. He didn't take notice to Tempest leaning against the doorframe, seemingly entertained by the fact that he didn't care how goofy he looked. He should've been embarassed about getting caught dancing.

Instead, he pulled Tempest by the hand and decided to serenade her a bit, ❝Baby, oh, baby~ ❞ Moving his hand to her waist, the other took her hand while dancing her around the kitchen. Breaking away to twirl her briefly, before catching her in his arms. ❝ My sweet baby, you're the one ❞ Leaning in to give her a very sweet kiss even though he hated how it ended up hushing her giggling.

[thewcllingtons]

𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣  》tempest @decadentias​

THIS CONVERSATION WAS BOUND TO happen at some point. They were going to have a future together. She owed the truth to him. Her disappearing act must have bothered him. She knew that he had questions. The reassurance coming from him put her at ease. She believed him. Time and time again he had proven that he wasn’t like the others. Being so used to maltreatment, it always surprised her every time she was treated right. She was wired to be protective of herself hence always having her guard up. Ashley’s sincerity broke her walls down, and he sneaked up on her.

       “I know you’re not.” She pulled back, and glanced at him. “I should tell you the story of my life.” Grabbing his hand, she intertwined their fingers. “’l’ll start with how I’m a product of my biological parents’ affair. The moment I was born, I was given away to my mother’s distant cousin. They raised me, but I was mostly left to fend for myself. They hated me, and I found out later on, by eavesdropping, that I wasn’t theirs.” The feeling of being unwanted stuck with her for a long time. “When I was twelve, my adoptive mother had her brother over. I felt uncomfortable around him, and something was off. Until one night, my adoptive parents left me alone with him. He volunteered to look after me, and my instincts told me something was going to happen.” She sighed. “I was right. He—he tried to assault me, and I was in panic mode. So, I stabbed him and ended up killing him.” She swallowed thickly. “They covered up the whole thing. I had therapy, and I recovered. Then I met my first love, Lee’s dad, and we accidentally had her. We decided to be together despite everyone being against it. But reality set in, and we had difficulty with the money. He got into some shady stuff—–sold drugs—–and then he started using. He changed until he beat me up one night, and it unlocked a whole new nightmare.” She was surprised that she wasn’t a wrecked recalling everything. “I got treated and recovered, but it changed me. It screwed up the way I was wired. And then another guy came along, and swept me off my feet.. But he also turned out to be a monster. He was the reason why I lost my second child.”  She smiled ruefully. “I’m alright now, though. My mind was treated. I’d say I got stronger, but also guarded. My mind fortunately recovered. But my heart? It was damaged beyond repair.” Her hand reached out to cup his face, and caressed his cheek. “I find it unfair how you met the worst and most damaged version of me. The skeptical girl who runs. Scared to take a risk and go through all of that again. But I’m trying again.  .  . for you.”

Ash squeezed her hand as she continued to speak. A part of him growing increasingly upset at the fact that she had to go through such a thing. How people who were supposed to be there for her, weren’t. Their lives were parallels in ways that we unexpected. Having to fight for their lives was essentially the essence of their whole being, but Ash couldn’t completely tell her that. That dark part of him was something he left about a decade ago. He didn’t consider himself that man he used to be. Ash also viewed that as being a world behind him. The trauma of losing his wife to cancer seemed to be enough of a heartache tale for most to swallow, and it didn’t beg for further questioning about his past. His daughter was all he had other that Tempest and their new found family. He didn’t want to bring up the manor in an attempt to secure it never showing back up in his life. Pulling her closer as she moved to hold his face,❝ Tem... ❞ He wasn’t sure exactly where to start and what exactly to say. He moved to mimic her motions, brushing a hair behind her ear, ❝ I wouldn’t say that this is the worst version of you. I think it’s the best. ❞ His heart almost ached in how he felt when he looked into her eyes.

❝ Nothing is your past would make me love you any less than I currently do now, and I never want you to think that is would, not even for a second. I love you for who you are now. You’re a caring mother who was dealt a bad hand, but it doesn’t make you a bad person. It shows your strength, and it makes me love you even more since I know I’m having a kid with such a badass. ❞ She smiled before kissing her forehead and pulling her in for a hug.  ❝ I’m never going to let anyone ever hurt you again. Your safe with me. I’m not going anywhere; I can promise you that.❞ Hoping that she could feel his sincerity in his tone and in his gestures. He wished he could do more to fight that voice inside of her telling her that she was too damaged for him. That he could let her know that it was really him that was the damaged one, and that she was too good for him after all.

[thewcllingtons]

tags pt.2