#( time to fucking die ashton )

[cringefaecompilation]

the real question here is which powerful woman who can change fate at the drop of a hat is gonna turn orym into a tree first

[she-aint-no-slow-regard]

Not my emotional support himbo :(

[vasattope]

Omg Ashton please I can't take this anymore

[thetravelerbewithyou]

I really wasn’t happy with campaign 3 at the beginning but I have to now live with the fact that I was ABSOLUTELY IN THE WRONG!

THIS SHIT SLAPS!

[hecksupremechips]

The way akishinji and ashbella both have dramatic coma scenes and dramatic shot through the heart scenes like we’ve gotta stop meeting like this 😩

[secret-sweetheart]

How easily can you top him?

The fandoms for this: Bungo stray dogs, Saint spells love guide, Honkai star rail

Notes: I’m a minor writing smut, if you aren’t comfy with that then just scroll, I don’t care what you have to say just scroll or block because I’ll keep writing even if you don’t want me to.

I didn’t put every single Saint spells character cuz I didn’t do every route (and for HSR I just don’t care for some of the guys and I hate that gay looking bitch Luocha he’s always showing up in my month for slideshows LIKE GET OUT OF HERE YOU FUCKING ZEST FEST YOU MAKE ME HOMOPHOBIC YOU ANNOYING ASS PIECE OF SHIT)

Edit: thx ppl in the comments for reminding me who Ango is, it’s been edited :3

This took me forever BUT NOW I CAN FINALLY DIE

Go ahead, he likes being topped (or he’s usually the bottom anyways)

Okay these guys looove when you’re on top, they get so excited at the site of you on top of them that they can barely hold back their noise when you’re moving, they’ll even start whimpering if it starts feeling too good. They’re so fun to too because you know they’ll let you fuck them stupid if you want <33

Ango Sakaguchi, Atsushi Nakajima, Ranpo Edogawa, Dazai, Gepard Landau, Caelus, ERiS

Yes, but please be gentle and treat him with love <3

They’d be perfectly fine with you on top but please don’t be rough and mean :( they need lots of love if they’re going to let you be in control, please make sure they know you still love them! Praise them please!!

Ashton Harlow, Titus Brome, Atsushi (again), Akutagawa, Argenti, Aventurine, Sunday, Luca Michaelides, Hui Shi, Barnaby Lei, Spinel Spiralis

Yes, and they’ll be praising you the whole time

The praises slip out of their mouths so naturally, seeing you on top of them does things to their body and mind. Talkative or not- prepare yourself for their endless praises while you fuck them/ride them

Chuuya <3, Kunikida, Tecchou, Sigma, Luca Michaelides, Spinel Spiralis, Hui Shi, Sunday, Argenti, Dan Heng, Welt Yang (idk what ppl see in him but he gets a spot)

Nah you aren’t topping, say bye bye to your ability to walk straight

Really? You think it’s possible to top them? They could’ve been gentle but now they probably won’t be! They’re pretty much impossible to top or have any kind of control over, so they’ll make sure you get that in your head

Jing Yuan (pls hear me out), Veritas Ratio, Blade, Bugbear, Siri, maybe Salinger? (I’ll probs play his route again to make up my mind), Fyodor, Nikolai, Jouno

[i-am-shitpost]

I went back and watched the scene where Fearne and Ashton discuss what to do with the shard and there’s some things I want us all to remind ourselves of:

Fearne explicitly says “if I do have any say in it, I think it should go to you. I don’t know if I want it.” And goes on to say that she feels Ashton is meant to hold both pieces.

Ashton says they know that Fearne would miss them if something happened to them (this is NOT in the context of the shard, but the mission overall) and thanks her for it

Then they say “it’s nice to feel love for people. I love having you…here”

When Ashton does float the idea of them taking the shard they say “I need you to promise me that we’re going to find a way to make it happen if we’re going to do it”

When discussing the plan, Ashton continually uses ‘we’, showing that he has always considered this their plan. Together. With equal say. And she can easily say no, Ashton would have accepted that answer. It’s specifically an “IF” question.

Ashton asks Fearne explicitly that if it goes wrong to “Please try and save my life. I’m not lookin’ to die”

This is explicitly not a martyr attempt

Ashton says he trusts Fearne more than they trust the others.

In regards to the plan, they word for word ask “Are you okay with that?”

Fearne responds “Yes I’m okay with that.”

There is no pressuring that goes along with this question whatsoever. Ashton outlines their idea for the plan, and then asks point blank.

He then apologizes for putting this on her.

Ashton also tells her “if it’s not okay it’s not your fault”

Ashton expresses that it’s nice having something to lose again, “So hopefully I won’t fucking lose it…again”

Other moments worth noting:

in the scene in Percy’s laboratory, Ashton says that “[they]’d like to feel safe…for once” when discussing how they’d like it to just be them and Fearne.

After getting kicked in the face and yelled at, Ashton immediately tells Fearne “that’s probably fair” holding no anger or resentment and validating her feelings as much as they could in their current state.

It was not manipulation. Fearne was not coerced. There were no double meanings. Ashton was straightforward as always. It wasn’t a recklessly planned or naive decision, they both felt this was the right call. It was not a martyr attempt either, Ashton did not want to die. But they felt this was the right call for the mission, so they stepped up and put their own neck on the line.

Ashton was being himself in a very stressful and gut-wrenching way, but it was not malicious or twisted. It was just terrifying.

Edit: I have removed a note about a comment made when Ashton kissed Fearne, I had misremembered the timing and delivery and hadn’t seen a clip of that scene circulating to rewatch yet, only the clocktower. Other than that, everything is accurate.

[utilitycaster]

Bells Hells Level Up: Level 14

FUCK IT WE'RE DOING IT LIVE (I forgot to prep this well in advance like a press release as I am wont to do). Gonna be short, sweet, and as always if there are any factual errors let me know! If I simply did not list every single possible feat, spell, or other choice, that is because I did not wish to spend my wild and precious life doing that.

Chetney: With a 13th level in Blood Hunter he gets Brand of Tethering, which is GREAT for making people (Ludinus) not be able to leave. He can also use Blood Maledict 3 times per rest now. Looking ahead: I'm assuming he's sticking with Blood Hunter (or Blood Nutter as the case may be); at L14 he gets advantage on saving throws against being charmed or frightened, and a new crimson rite. He has flame and frozen, and L14 unlocks necrotic, psychic, and thunder options. Their enemies are often immune to psychic but honestly he can just use fire so. Live your best life, Chet.

Laudna: I support waiting to see how the ritual goes! If she levels in Warlock she gets an ASI/Feat (War caster wouldn't hurt; bumping up INT or WIS wouldn't either though my vote, as always, is for INT), another known spell, and continues her quest as Cantrips Georg. If she levels in Sorcerer she also gets another cantrip, as well as another known spell, and I think she should get a 3rd metamagic option but she seems to already have three? Anyway my vote is for Careful Spell. I'll hold off on further speculation until said ritual has completed.

Dorian: Two more spells! Magical secrets, ie, whatever the fuck he wants (true to my name my vote is spending at least one on Counterspell, but go nuts on the other) He also no longer has to burn his inspiration dice on flourishes, though he only gets a d6 rather than his full d10. Looking ahead: He gets 8th level spells of which Mind Blank might be wise given this campaign; he also gets a d12 inspiration die.

Braius is already level 14, thank you Braius.

Fearne: Ok I respect the ASI push but Transport via Plants would be real clutch sometime soon. With that said Dorian or Imogen could take Teleport or they can just hang out with Essek for a while longer. Anyway, as an Arcane Trickster she gets an ASI and another L1 spell; she's been keeping it utility-focused which is smart because her INT score is not high. The ASI move, in my opinion, is bump up INT and CON by one, but she could also benefit from War caster. Looking ahead: As said, take L11 Druid, get 6th level spells, profit.

Imogen: Revelation in Flesh is upon us; I assume it will be electricity themed rather than the traditional Aberrant Mind option which appears to be "cursed axolotl"-themed. This means she can use sorcery points to make herself fly OR swim/breathe water OR see invisible creatures OR squeeze out of tight situations. Looking ahead: 8th level spells next level! Incendiary Cloud seems to be on-brand but Power Word Stun OR Sunburst (miss you Ayden) are both pretty fantastic.

Orym: Fighters get a zillion ASIs, as always; Sentinel might be fun but he could also bump his CON to 16 (if he does this...I must admit I'm warming on the idea of Orym Paladin and wouldn't scoff at a CHA 13 bump either), achieve Chetney-like intellect with an INT bump, or take any number of feats. I am pretty boring with feats honestly so I'm excited to see what Liam picks but I have no good ideas. Looking ahead: At L15, he gets two more maneuvers, which I will definitely look up before they hit L15; he also gets a free superiority die if they roll initiative while he is fully tapped. Fighters: they are unstoppable.

Ashton: It's a path feature! I have no idea what the fuck will be up with that but I'm looking forward to finding out, which, coincidentally, will give us the full picture of Path of Fundamental Chaos! Looking ahead: They get persistent rage at L15, which will make them even harder to knock out, a thing that is already very difficult to do.

[fluidstatick]

FCG's sacrifice | Critical Role - Bells Hells ep 91

If you've not seen Sam's video on the Crit Role channel, It's Been Awhile, go watch it now. Then come back and watch this again. Then bear with me, I need to talk about this for a bit.

When I saw this the first time I thought it was odd that everyone was crying so much. Laudna's death gave everyone focus, and Molly's was met with solemnity, but few tears. Why did Sam's decision rock the table so much harder this time?

Everyone is crying when FCG decides to sign off. Matt cries harder than we've seen since the C2 signoff. Taliesin hides his face. Liam is visibly crushed, and then snarling with rage, and then numb. Marisha is bargaining, Ashley is protesting, Laura is speechless. At the time I wrote it off as the cast being tired, frustrated by the Otohan battle, disappointed by a rough run of ineffective strategies.

Most of all, I thought Travis' body language and quiet remark were so strange. He's smiling throughout this death scene, eyes sparkling, awed, and he says in a level, sincere voice - "I'm so proud of you." We all know Travis laughs when he's panicking, so I thought he was just enjoying the symmetry of FCG's character arc. But now that we know why the table was so broken up at this, I understand Travis' amazement and pride, too.

Everyone is in tears because they don't know if Sam is going to come back. They don't know if he'll make it. They know they can't make their fear and hurt explicit, because it'll breach Sam's privacy at a very dark and frightening time. But he takes this poetically timed opportunity to allow Bell's Hells to endure. He removes himself narratively, preserves his privacy, and lays a plot point that will allow the others to channel their grief and fear into the game in his absence. Travis sees what this decision does not just for the narrative, but for the health of the brand. That's CEO Travis telling Sam how proud he is. And when FCG bolts for Otohan at a full dash, thinking about Bertrand, and Dorian, and Frida -- That's Sam, squaring up to cancer, thinking of his predecessors in the fight, his comrades in his own battle, and the people who most need him to win.

When Matt said "The stakes are higher than ever", he wasn't talking about Exandria. He was talking about Sam, the table's one of a kind friendship, and the joyful soul of CR. And nobody knew when or how they'd come out the other side.

At the Greek, When Ashton failed his wisdom save against Dominox and it used FCG's voice to accuse them of letting him die, I was thrown a little by Tal's performance. If Ashton failed the wisdom save, why is he so strong in the face of this accusation? But now I see it's Taliesin asking cancer, how dare you try to make us feel guilty while our best friend kicks your ass? How dare you tell us that we've fucked up, when we've all done everything in our power to protect this man that we love?

I didn't like Braius when he debuted. I thought he was too vain, too brash, too pushy. I thought he was a goofy swing and an ill fit for the party. But now, in context with everything we didn't see before, he's perfect. He's a husky-voiced warrior of few words, a jittery fanboy, a wounded jester, a powerful healing force of darkness, a joyful slut with a slit throat, so alive, alive, alive.

I could say so much more but I'm emotionally exhausted. Get your HPV vaccine. If your body needs pelvic exams, get them, every year, no slacking. If your body tells you something is weird, listen to it, and find a doctor who will also listen to it.

If you're reading this, I love you. Go tell someone who needs to know that you love them.

Fuck Cancer.

[revvethasmythh]

Have you witnessed discoursing about Orym in the past several months? Would you like to be more well-informed about the subject matter? Well, then, do I have a post for you! As a reference for myself and potentially for others:

A Comprehensive Write-Up Of Relevant Times And Contexts Where Orym Has Brought Up His Dead Family While The Group Discusses The Vanguard/Predathos--With Receipts

Disclaimer: these are all of the instances in which I was able to find independently through the Critical Role transcript search, not from rewatching everything. It is therefore possible there are some instances unaccounted for.

Episode 34. Post-resurrection after being killed by Otohan Thull, he brings up the fact that Otohan had a hand in killing his family to emphasize to Imogen how dangerous Otohan is and that she may potentially continue to be an issue for her specifically due to her apparent interest in Imogen (exalting her during the battle in the previous episode)

2. Episode 46. An early God Talk™️, prompted by Ludinus using (presumably) Feeblemind on Professor Kadija Sumal. He holds his opinion until the very end of the conversation, after entertaining Imogen's idea that "they make some good points" and listening to the group discuss if the gods are good or bad for several minutes.

"I don't need to debate it. I lost my husband and father to these people, I'm not on board. Some of the gods are terrifying, and some of them have put their thumbs on the scales for people for centuries, even in the last few decades. Who are they, who are we to decide who lives or dies, god or mortal or otherwise? I don't think they have any good points."

3. Episode 49. He brings them up combatively ("Well, Imogen, I wish. my family didn't have to die for their brighter tomorrow"), against Imogen's statement of, "What if it's not that bad? [...] What if what we're doing is just fighting change?" after she solely received a vision of a Utopia-like future from her mother. Imogen backs down quickly after his reproach and acknowledges that the vision was likely a part of cult brainwashing.

4. Episode 61. Orym pulls Prism aside, after she asks the party and Elder Abbadina if Predathos would cause a world-ending event, or if it would only be bad for some (the Elder did not know anything about Predathos at all), to say, "I don't think we know anything [...] The only thing I have to go on is the track record of the guys trying to bring Predathos out. And that track record is not very good." At further prompting from Prism about if he ever thought the Vanguard's ideas were right, he says, "Prism, I don't understand the gods. I don't know anything about the titans. I don't know an eidolon from eyeliner. [...] But I'm a widower, because of the people who want to bring this about. So it's hard for me to wrangle with the other side."

5. Episode 61, pt. 2. Orym listens to the party converse with Elder Abbadina for a little while longer before silently sneaking out "to go think about his dead father and his dead husband."

6. Episode 77. Another God Talk™️ with the whole party, prompted by FCG asking what everyone's motive was in going to the moon. For his reasoning, he says, "We don't know what's going to happen to any inch of this world if Predathos is unleashed. Yeah, this started with my husband and my father. It's so much bigger than that. If my life can secure the lives of everyone who comes after us, well spent."

7. Episode 92. After the death of another loved one to Otohan Thull, in response to Liliana's statement that temples might hunt down Ruidusborn in the theoretical event that Ludinus' plot is foiled, "Cold comfort for my family in the ground."

8. Episode 92, pt. 2. In response to a throwaway, thoughtless comment Ashton made that, "I hope [Liliana] is right. I really do. I hope her ends are fucking great because these means are just not forgivable." Orym has Chetney bring out Otohan's sword, jams one into the sand and declares, "This is the sword that killed my father and my husband. She is not right."

UPDATE: 8/14/24

9. Episode 102, during the confrontation with Ludinus. Interjected during the ongoing conversation, specifically during some bantering between Chetney and Ludinus as to the last time they met (when Chetney attacked him as a werewolf). He says, "You put a hit on my family, a successful one, fuck you. Fuck you." Ludinus later apologizes for the deaths of his family, claiming Otohan was "overzealous in her methods." Both Imogen and Laudna respond immediately that he was responsible for Otohan's actions.

10. Episode 103, during yet another God Conversation. Orym tries to redirect conversation about Ludinus and the gods, stating that they are different topics. Ashton concurs, and Imogen states that she agrees with Orym that Ludinus doesn't get to decide for everyone. Dorian then interjects, "But the gods do?" Which prompts Orym's blunt response to him specifically that, "If Ludinus had sent people to your home, and taken brother and your father and countless others, how philosophical would you be about it, Dorian?"

-

So, with all of the information in front of us, what conclusions can we draw from them? When asked by others to assess if the Vanguard has valid points, Orym repeatedly abstains from having an opinion. Whether or not the Vanguard has a reason to be upset is irrelevant to him--what is relevant is the loss of life they have incurred along the way. Orym takes no stance on the gods, he repeatedly states he doesn't understand them or know anything about them or harbor much of a connection to them. As far as he is concerned, his role in this is to oppose the violence being done to the people of Exandria. Why waste your time debating the merits of a cult's ideology when you know, in the end, you will have to fight against them to end the slaughter? To protect people?

And for what it's worth, in almost every instance, Ashton has effectively taken the same side as Orym. I have not included all of these moments, but they are easily located if you wanted to search up these moments on your own. The continual focus on de-legitimizing Orym's opinion seems strongly tied to the fact that he has a personal reason to hate the Vanguard. But facts being facts, Ashton hates them just the same--and he has no love of the gods, either. He hates the Vanguard based on their actions, same as Orym. In fact, Ashton and Laudna have both expressed outright dislike for the gods, and all other Bells Hells except for FCG expressed ambivalence. This is not about the gods. Not for Orym, not for the others who remain. This is about no more bodies on the pyre of Ludinus' machinations.

P.S. if you know of any other instances this topic has come up that I have not included, please feel free to let me know! I want this post to be as comprehensive as it can be, but I am fallible and may have missed something. Don't be afraid to tell me about a scene I missed!

[eddiesxangel]

Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x Reader ~ 2/6

Read part 1 here

Cw: angst, jealousy, pining, weed consumption, 18+ content MDNI

Wc: 4.4k

You didn’t see Eddie the rest of the day, but you did happen to run into Steve and yell at him for the most impromptu timing in the world. It has been a scorcher of a day, so you were elated that today was swim day.

The sun was sweltering; Robin and you had to triple-check that your campers had all the water-resistant sunscreen. You had worn your bathing suit under your jean shorts and Camp Murdock t-shirt, but you couldn’t take the sweaty cotton touching your skin any longer. You had to strip off the clothes that were sticking to your skin.

“I think I might die if I don’t get in the water now!” Robin complained. You could see her usually pin-straight bangs getting wavy from the sweat on her forehead.

“Same here, I can’t believe I didn’t think to put my hair up this morning." You could feel the sweat dripping down the base of your neck.

As soon as you reached the dock, you took charge and ensured that everyone in your group was fully aware of all the water safety rules. You then conducted a final head count of all the campers before jumping into the water yourselves.

Robin was the first to take the plunge, diving headfirst into the refreshing water. Despite the initial shock of the cold water, she resurfaced with a huge grin on her face, her teeth chattering with excitement.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” she squealed.

“Oh god, I don’t want to do it now,” you laughed as you stripped off your jean shorts.

Just as you were removing your clothes, Eddie, Steve, and Ashton came running around the corner, unable to stay in the heat themselves. Due to the hot weather, Eddie tied his long hair back, and his light grey shirt turned dark grey from sweat. They had just changed into their swimming trunks.

“Hey, look, the girls,” Ashton pointed to you and Robin.

Eddie had stopped dead in his tracks as he watched you. It was like you were moving in slow motion.

You still were taking your shorts off. Eddie watched as your peach of an ass bent over to step out of your shorts, your back arching as you peeled off the t-shirt. You wore your red bikini with little white hearts matched perfectly with the little heart inked into the skin on your right butt cheek.

Hold up, what? Eddie’s brain short-circuited. You not only have a tattoo, but an ass tattoo?

“Dude, hello, Earth to Eddie,” Steve was snapping his fingers in front of Eddie's face.

“ Huh, what?” Eddie reluctantly peeled his eyes away from you.

“You’d been staring at her for like five minutes, bro; just ask her out already.” Ashton laughed.

“Was not five minutes"

“So you admit you’re staring?” Steve smirks.

“How could I not? Don’t you have eyes?”

The guys laughed, and Eddie continued his gaze back to you when he saw Billy approaching you from the right. Eddie felt a sudden possessiveness over you when it came to that guy. He never liked Billy from the start. His off-putting comment and how he looked at you like he wanted to eat you were unsettling.

Eddie didn’t waste another second thinking about it; he started to run towards you, kicking off his slides and tossing his shirt before he grabbed you by the waist and flung you both into the water, laughing.

-

You weren’t paying attention to the boys behind you; honestly, you had no idea they were even there. You were too focused on working up the courage to finally jump in. Robin tried to convince you when you heard your name being called.

“Bambi, damn girl, you’re looking hotter than last year.” You turned and rolled your eyes immediately. Out of all people, Billy. You watched in disgust as he was ogling you while licking his lips.

Before you could even reply, a force pushed you into the freezing water.

When you breach the surface, you profusely try to catch your breath, looking around to see what the fuck just happened.

Your first instinct was to blame Billy for pushing you in.

“What the fuck Coyote?!” You were freezing, and the drastic temperature change had your teeth chattering.

“It wasn’t me!” his hands when up in defence.

You believe him, so you start looking around because he couldn't have, and you swore another person had jumped into the lake with you.

“Sorry, Princess. As your knight, I must fulfill my duty to you to save you.” A whisper echoed in your ear.

You let out a small scream, startled by his closeness, but when your heart settled, your flesh rose in goosebumps, not because of the cold of the lake water. Strong hands touch your waits turning you around to face your ‘saviour’

“Oh, my hero,” you fake swoon.

Eddie laughed, his head tipped all the way back so his hair was touching the water, his thick neck exposed, sending you into a daydream of leaving many a mark on that neck, but your thots were halted by Eddie pushing down on your head, dunking you back into the water.

“Edward Munson, I swear to God!” You screamed when you popped back up out of the water.

“Oh, my government name? You wound me, Princess.” He grabbed his chest like he had a knife in his heart.

You started to swim towards him, but the cold lake water was starting to numb your limbs. You couldn’t move fast enough; your teeth were still chattering, and Eddie could hear how cold you were.

“I'm sorry, Princess. I need to redeem myself.” He reached out and pulled you into his body, wrapping his arms around the small of your waist.

“You better be.” You shivered.

“Come, let's get you warmed up in the sun.”

He hopped out of the water, not even having to use the ladder. He reached down, holding out his hand to help you out, but you yanked him back down, and he fell head-first back into the water.

Eddie could only hear your laugh when he broke through the surface.

“I guess I deserved that.” He shook his head like a wet dog.

You were already halfway up the ladder when you felt his gaze on you. Eddie watched as you climbed up; he trialled right behind you, giving him a great view of the tattoo he wanted to know more about.

You quickly ran over to the towel that had been warmed by the sun. Shivering, you crouched down and sat in a ball to cover yourself with the whole towel.

“Come ‘er Princess, let's get you warmed up.” Eddie sat beside you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders with his own towel to cover you both before he started rubbing his hands up and down your arms to help you get warm.

You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. Between the sun and Eddie, you warmed you up in no time.

You were at peace, the smell of coconut sunscreen, the sounds of splashing in the water, the warm feeling you were getting because Eddie was not only touching you, but hugging you.

“There you go, your majesty, all better,” Eddie smirked.

“You’re really not going to give up this joke, are you?” You laughed.

“Not in a million years, Princess.”

-

You and the girls were busily getting ready for a cozy after-the-bonfire hangout with the boys in the mess hall. You were there setting up some snacks and drinks on the table, and the soft glow of the fairy lights hanging on the walls added to the warm ambiance of the room.

Meanwhile, Eddie and his cabin were chatting and laughing, looking forward to the evening. As the night grew darker, they realized it was already 10:00 pm, and they needed to do one last check on the campers to make sure they were sound asleep. Once it was all calre the guys made their way to the mess hall.

“So you and Julie seem to be getting pretty close.” With his flashlight under his chin, Ashton wiggled his eyebrows at Eddie. Eddie shoves his shoulder lightly, laughing in response.

“I don’t know, man. I know her from home, is all.” Eddie shrugged.

“Come on, dude! You totally couldn’t keep your hands off her at the lake today; I saw you,” Ashton accused.

“Well, have you seen her? And I think she has been flirty with me? I don't know...she confuses me,” Eddie admitted, thinking back on earlier this morning when he thought you almost kissed him.

It's not like Eddie didn't want to believe it, it's that he can't believe it. Why do you, out of all people, want to be with him?

“I would go for it, dude, trust me. She is my best girl-friend, and I shouldn’t say anything, so I won’t, but if I were you, I would ask her out.” Steve joined in.

“You shouldn’t say anything? What’s that supposed to mean?” Eddie asked as they opened the doors to the hall.

“Sorry, man, sworn to secrecy, but trust me, bro.”

“Don't ever trust Moose.” Robin giggled, not knowing the context of the conversation.

“Hey, boys,” you smiled.

Eddie’s eyes met yours, and he smiled back, but his smile dropped when he saw Billy sitting beside you. Billy was like a mosquito who wouldn't leave you alone; he gave you no personal space even though you were seated at a twenty-foot-long picnic table.

He tried his best to ignore Billy; you had already said you didn’t like him, so why did Eddie feel jealous?

Instead, Eddie tried to focus all his attention on you, so he sat directly across from you. Eddie thought you looked cute tonight. Your natural hair was wrapped up in a messy bun, but shorter pieces framing your face.

You wore a heather grey Camp Murdock oversized crewneck sweater, blue and green plaid flannel pyjama pants, and pink fuzzy socks. He liked that you felt comfortable enough to not try hard like you do back home. Back home, he never saw your hair out of place or your outfit not coordinated. Not that Eddie didn't like that version of you, but he likes this version a whole lot more. It made you feel more real and less of this superhuman that the town dubbed you as.

“What are we playing today?” Eddie asked.

“A good old game of truth or dare,” Robin smiled.

“Oh god,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. We have a little something extra to make it fun,” You smiled while showing the group the pre-rolled joint you pulled out of your pyjama pants pocket.

Eddie smirked at the thought of you, goodie two shoes, and buying weed. Then, his thought process changed… Who else would you get weed from if not him?

“The fuck you get that?” Eddie didn’t intend for it to be that harsh, but it slipped out like word vomit. Could this be trusted? How did he know it wasn’t laced or tainted.

“Oh, uh, I know a local guy.” Your smile dropped, and Eddie watched as you curled into yourself.

Fuck.

“Better be up to this guy’s standards,” Billy pointed to Eddie, only making it worse.

“You’re lucky I’m even sharing with you.”

“Let’s just start, guys, jeez.” Robin rolled her eyes.

You lit up first then passed it to Billy. Eddie seethed that he got it first. He almost grabbed it right from your hands but he knew he needed to control himself…

The game went on, and the typical stuff happened: streaking, truths about the first kiss, and chugging a combination of ketchup, mustard, and mayo. The joint was getting down to a nub, and it was really starting to take effect. The mood had been lifted, and Eddie noticed how you and the others were getting more giggly, whispering and plotting the next truths and dares.

Steve was up next, and he turned to you.

“Truth or dare?” Steve asks with a smirk.

“Truth,” you say confidently.

“Who was the last guy to give you an orgasm?” He gives you the biggest tooth smile.

Eddie’s ears perk up, his attention locked in. The bubbling feeling of jealousy almost formed again, but it disappeared as soon as you spoke your answer.

“No one.” You blushed.

“Come on, no one believes you, Bambi.” Steve retorts.

“I’m serious! Now shut up it's my turn.” You huffed.

Eddie was not surprised you’re a virgin; if you had slept with anyone, everyone in Hawkins would have known about it.

It sounds wrong, but Eddie was relieved when you said no one. Nobody would be able to please you like he could. The things Eddie wanted to do to you, worship you, take care of you…

“Eddie, hello! earth to Eddie!” Your voice snaps Eddie out of his daydreams.

“Huh? What?”

“Truth or dare,” you smile at him.

“Dare,” Eddie smirked.

“I dare you to kiss…Billy.” You, Robin, and Nancy burst into a fit of giggles like you’ve been plotting.

“I’ll kiss literaly any other guy. Try again, sweetheart.” Eddie sees you try to hide your smile at the pet name. Noted.

"Hey! What's wrong with me?"

"Everything..." Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Come here, big guy, let me plant one on ya." Billy began to chase Eddie around the room, and you, along with everyone else, couldn't hold in your giggles. It was really good weed.

-

The night rolled on, and everyone had to return to their cabins before you knew it.

“Well, boys, I am never skinny dipping at night again. I think my dick shrunk back into my body. Fuck, that lake is cold!” Ashton laughed.

“I never want to see those hairy cheeks again,” Eddie joined.

“I can’t believe what Bambi said, can you?” Steve piped up.

“About what?” Eddie asked.

“That no guy has ever gotten her off. You would think at least one would, you know” Steve exclaimed while brushing his teeth.

“Maybe that’s why she is acting like she has a stick up her ass; I can show her a good time, maybe replace that stick with mine, if you know what I mean.” Billy joked, cupping his crotch as he was getting his pyjamas on.

The joke wasn’t funny; the thought of any guy touching you made Eddie's knuckles go white. His face dropped into a sneer for a split second, but he caught himself. Fucking hell, Munson pulled it together.

“Shut up, dude. She wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” Ashton laughed as he lay in his bunk.

“Oh yeah, we will see. She will come around.” He winked, and Eddie felt the s’mores in his stomach start to churn.

Eddie was about to let Steve know that there was no way on God's green earth that you had slept with someone, but his attention was shifted when Steve spoke again.

“Word is she likes someone,” Steve dropped casually as he climbed into his top bunk.

That caught the three men’s attention; they whipped around simultaneously, and all Steve could do was laugh.

“You guys are something else.” He chuckled and laid down to go to sleep.

Maybe Ashton was right; maybe his ever-growing crush on you was too obvious. Maybe he should dial it back more...

-

As the sun sets over Camp Murdock, the anticipation builds for the evening's main event - the camper's talent show. You, Eddie, and Steve have been chosen as the judges for the show, and it's an exciting responsibility. The venue for the show is the old barn on the property. You have carefully set up rows of chairs and cleared a decent patch of the floor to create a makeshift stage. The rustic and charming barn is adorned with twinkle lights that create a warm and cozy atmosphere. A folding table is placed before the judges, where they will take notes and make their final decisions.

As the kids prepare backstage, their nervous energy is palpable. The makeshift backstage area is just an old curtain hanging on a rod by the back right wall. You can hear the campers giggling and screaming in excitement and nervousness. Despite their jitters, they are ready to showcase their talents and make the night memorable for everyone.

You sat in the middle with Steve and Eddie on either other side of you.

“Are you going to strut your stuff up there later tonight?” you asked Eddie quietly, giggling.

To your surprise, he didn’t give you much of an answer, a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders.

That was weird; Eddie had been so warm yesterday. This was your first time seeing him today; maybe he’s tired?

You tried shaking it off, wanting to focus on the kids.

“They all did well. It was so cute to see them perform their dances and songs. One kid did a magic show, and another just showed off his rock collection. Ultimately, one of Eddie’s campers, who had a beautiful singing voice, won the talent show. As a consolation prize, everyone who participated got ice cream. After all the celebrations, everyone went to bed, and it was time for the counsellors to have their own talent show.

You're incredibly nervous this year because you have decided to do something bold. You haven’t told anyone about it, not even Nancy or Robin. It’s evident to anyone who knows you that you’ll be dancing tonight, but it’s usually a ballet number. However, tonight is different. You are determined to make your move and not waste more precious time.

You carefully rummaged through your bag, removing the skin-tight pleather black booty shorts and a shiny red, cropped tank top. You loved the way the two pieces hugged your curves, making you feel both sexy and confident.

Next, you moved to the bathroom and began styling your hair. You wanted to create a voluminous look, so you used a curling iron to add bouncy curls that cascaded down your back. You then applied makeup, starting with a base of foundation and concealer. You added smoky black eyeliner to your upper and lower lids and finished the look with bold red lipstick that made your lips pop.

As soon as you feel prepared and all set, you slip into your cozy grey sweatpants over your shorts, taking care to secure yourself from the pesky bugs outside. You then slide your feet into your sleek black dancing heels and grab your cassette tape.

Robin was the first to see you when you returned to the barn.

“Shut the fuck up; what are you doing?” she asked most affectionately. A growing smirk spreads across her face as you turn.

“You’ll see.” Your confidence was helping a little, but deep down, you were terrified. You’ve been so nervous you think you might be sick.

As the talent show kicked off, you were excited to spend the evening with Eddie, but he seemed distant. Despite your best attempts at conversation, Eddie remained quiet and disinterested in engaging with you. Later, when you tried to talk to him again, he brushed you off, leaving you feeling hurt and confused. You hoped that his behaviour was just a temporary mood, but the fear of failure lingered in the back of your mind. If the plan you had been working on together didn't come to fruition, you knew you would be mortified.

As the show went on, you unfortunately had the pleasure of going dead last. Eddie wasn’t a judge this time, but he was still sitting in the front row. Perfect.

As the host, Mike, asked for your tape to be put into the casket player, he saw your hands visibly shaking.

“Bambi, relax. It's just for fun; you do this every year. We all love your little ballerina stuff,” he smiled.

“Do I look like I’m dressed to do ballet— know what, never mind?” You didn’t mean to be snappy; Mike had always been nice to you.

As he walked out on “stage” to announce the next performance, you stepped off your sweats, pulled the zipper up the side of the black high heels and prayed that you wouldn’t fall flat on your face in front of Eddie.

“Last but certainly not least, we have a crowd favourite!” The audience, your fellow colleagues, clapped as you walked out. You heard someone whistle, most likely Robin and your stomach flip-flopped.

You walk out and face the back wall, standing in a bevel, arms hanging by your side, waiting for the chords to start.

The first notes of Led Zeppelin’s Whole Lotta Love dripped from the speakers.

Your body moved seductively once the music hit like you were in a trace performance mode.

Were you worried some of the other girls would call you a slut? Absolutely, but once the music started, all that went away.

You began dancing like you had when Eddie caught you in the studio that first day, but this time, with the hair, makeup, and shoes, you were more confident than you'd ever been.

A-way, way down inside

A-honey you need-ah

I'm gonna give you my love, ah

I'm gonna give you my love, ah oh

The rush of being on stage made you lose yourself in the routine, however the part you had been most nervous about was coming up.

A-way, way down inside

You stood facing the crowd with your head thrown back, your right hand ran down your stomach, grazing past the waistband of your shorts that hardly covered anything, down cupping your core, then slinked it back up again.

I'm gonna give ya my love

Your head snaps back up, and you took a slow strut forward.

I'm gonna give ya every inch of my love

another slow step forward

I'm gonna give ya my love

You reached your target as you slowly sank to your knees right where Eddie was sitting. Giving him a small wink before you whipped your hair, you looked back up at him through your lashes, and you saw his jaw was clenched, and his hands were balled up white-knuckling.

You reached up with a single hand and grazed it over his left thigh before slinking back down to roll away and get back to the rest of the routine.

By the time you had finished, you were out of breath. Everyone cheered, and a few whistles were made as you walked off stage, but when you looked around, Eddie was gone.

Your heart sank. The overwhelming feeling of embarrassment washed over you, leaving you exposed and vulnerable.

Of course, he wouldn’t want you in that way.

You were a fool to think he ever would.

You were naive to think changing your appearance to be like the edgier sexy chicks he probably goes for. You literally pulled a Sandy for Grease. You tried putting yourself out there, doing this dance, but now you felt the tears welling up; the lump in your throat grew. You felt like an idiot.

You needed air. You took off your shoes, put your pants back on, and walked out the barn's back door.

“Bambi, wait up.”

You turn to see Billy.

“Uh, hey,” You try to keep your voice as neutral as possible, forcing yourself not to let it crack.

“You were amazing up there!” He smiled and gave an encouraging hug.

“Thanks, Coyote, that's really sweet for you to say.” You sniffled.

“Hey, are you okay?” he pulled away to see your tears threatening to leave the rims of your lash line. “No, no, it’s okay. Don’t cry; everyone thought you rocked it!” He pulled you into another comforting hug.

This was the most genuine Billy’s been with you all summer. This was the Billy you knew and loved last summer.

“You really think so?” you ask trying to pull yourself together.

“Yes! Of course; what’s gotten into you?” He looked concerned.

“Nerves, I guess.” You try to shrug it off, but you can’t shake the feeling.

“Well you did amazing, you won!” He gave me a congratulatory kiss on the cheek; it was soft and hardly grazed your skin.

“Thank you.” You pulled him in for another hug. You just needed a friend right now, and I missed this version of Billy.

“You know there is another way I can make you feel better.” He chuckled.

“And the moment ruined, ugh. Why do you do that?” he laughed as you stepped away.

-

You found Cassie and the other girls back at the cabin.

“Hey guys.” You sniffled as you walked to your bed.

“Babe, you were amazing up there! Who knew you could move like that!” Clover cheered.

“You are one hot Mamma!” Nancy giggled.

“Bam, what’s wrong?” Robin asked after you hadn’t really said anything back. She came to sit beside you and wrapped her arm around your shoulder.

“It’s silly…” tears threatening to run down your cheeks once again.

“Hey, it’s just us." Nancy reached over and touched your hand.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“I feel like such an idiot! I did that whole thing to get Eddie’s attention, but he was gone before I even finished dancing.” You hid your face in your hands, too embarrassed to look at your friends.

“If you ask me, he looked like he was trying to contain himself. Girl, you did that to him with no warning! Hell, even I wanted to jump your bones just watching you.” Robin giggled.

“Really? Do you think so? You don’t think he was mad or put off? I saw his face—he looked annoyed. Like he was uncomfortable. Even earlier, he was cold to me.” You grabbed a tissue and blotted away your blackened tears.

“Nah, Bams, he looked like a man trying not to pop a boner, especially when you touched his thighs! Holy shit, I thought he would blow his load right there.”

Nancy managed to pull a laugh off of you.

“Thanks, guys; I think I'll feel better in the morning.” you sighed and gave them each a hug, then got ready for bed.

Next chapter

Tags: @winchester-angel @josephquinnsfreckles @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @emma-munson @littlexdeaths @siriuslysmoking @peachysink @nailbatanddungeon @leelei1980 @daisy-munson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @strangerstilinski @bl0ssomanddie @seb-buckybarnes @chickenandsheep-blog @lokis-army-77 @ali-r3n @erinekc @impmunson @snowflowersstars246 @micheledawn1975 @princesatracionera @bells-28 @kellsck @guineveresghost @ezzynf @oneforthemunny @paybacksawitch

[souperbloom]

being in love. [A.I.]

loosely based on lyrics of the song with the same title, by Wet Leg.

roadie! reader x Ashton

in which you realize your feelings for your boss are a lot more detrimental than you thought they were.

this was supposed to be short and i went overboard. oops! enjoy my first post :^)

CONTENT WARNINGS: tension/slight mental angst, mentions of weed smokin', sex in a somewhat public place/exhibitionism, teasing, fingering(f!receiving), dirty talk, degradation, straight up p in v, insinuation of a creampie, porn with plot basically, filth, filth, FILTH (there is something seriously wrong with me).

WORDCOUNT: 7.9k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You couldn’t fucking stand him.

As much as you wanted to believe that statement, your heart, mind, and soul found every which way to make you believe otherwise.

The days you spent with him dragged on. His over the top personality was like a vacuum cleaner that sucked every ounce of life out of you.

And yet, despite your annoyance with his ability to charm his way towards your demise, the days without him felt like a lifetime.

Since the first time you and Ashton hooked up, all you were able to think about, after the fact, were the things that you really shouldn’t have been.

Almost every night without missing a beat, you’d lie awake in bed; staring off at the ceiling through your post-show exhaustion and reminiscing on the hours you’ve spent with him. Sneaking off between down times and show times. For a quick and casual fuck.

You’d think about his terrible jokes, the little speckles of brown lost between the hues of green in his eyes, or his ability to make you feel like nothing in the best possible way.

You thought about them. You thought about him. All in hopes that one day, you’d think about him so hard that he would just vanish.

It was reverse psychology, you thought, a way to turn that fluttering feeling you get when you’re around him into something a little less existential, and more like you had both originally intended.

Something more casual.

You didn’t like the fact that he had this effect on you. He was about as brutish and irritating as the day is long. When it was just the two of you, you wished more than anything that he would stop being so damn’ sweet and charismatic. The thought of him calling you nicknames and whispering sweet nothings in your ear made you want to curl up and die.

But the vital organ pumping blood through your veins begged to differ.

Whenever he was around, the pounding of your heart against your ribcage was so deafening, you were almost certain that he could hear it.

It felt strange to wake up, to lie down, to close your eyes and think about anything else. You couldn’t even eat without the thought of him stirring up nausea in your stomach. It was almost as if nothing you did could satisfy you. Nothing you did was right.

Because any time without him felt so wrong.

There were moments in which you wondered whether or not he could feel it too. You'd catch him staring at you from across the dressing room, his eyes lingering down your frame for a millisecond longer than normal.

But you're never quite able to figure it out. To figure him out. He was a thousand piece puzzle, and you were stuck looking for the last piece between the couch cushions.

"Yo, earth to Y/N. Did we lose ya' again?"

Your trance is broken by the sound of Calum's voice. You had been so wrapped up in your own pity-party that you had completely forgotten that you were in the middle of a conversation.

"Jeez, are we really that boring?" Luke laughs out, leaning back in his seat, "I thought our conversation about green tea was quite compelling."

"Sorry, sorry..." You try to snap yourself out of whatever God forsaken rut you've dug yourself into, covering up the awkward silence with the clearing of your throat. "...I guess I don't like green tea as much as I thought I did."

"I'm with Y/N on this one. Green tea is fucking disgusting." Michael comes to your rescue with his reply, which practically had you kissing his shoes as a thank you for saving my ass.

"You guys clearly have no taste. It's simple." Luke shrugs, taking a sip of his ice water. "I know if Ashton was here he'd be on our side, right Cal?"

Calum nods his head, "Speaking of Ashton... where the fuck is he? He said he'd meet us..." he pauses his sentence to look at his phone, "...like, an hour ago."

The pit of your stomach lurches at Calum's observation. He was right. Ashton had said he'd be down in the lounge... after he took a quick shower.

But then again, a quick shower was one of those double entendres in you and Ashton's world. Was he waiting for you? Did you misread his subtle glance after he walked right past you when you tried to hand him his water?

Or maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe you’re just overthinking things.

Maybe he just looked at you because he's your boss and you're his roadie; who he just so happens to fuck from time to time.

That's all it was. That's all it ever will be.

"I can go look for him?" You blurt, immediately wanting to smack yourself in the face for sounding so small.

"You don't have to do that, Y/N. He'll find his way down eventually." Michael sighs.

"He's like a ghost, dude... He disappears for hours. Doesn't answer his phone. Then suddenly, POOF, he appears out of thin air. It's fuckin' witchcraft, I think..."

Calum's comment earns a roaring laugh from the rest of the guys, but you weren't at all laughing. You were too busy debating walking out of the door and hoping they wouldn't notice you were gone.

"I don't think I believe in ghosts..."

Another dumbass conversation ensues.

"Are you kidding?! Since when did you stop believing in ghosts?!" Luke seems genuinely offended by Michael's admission.

And yet, you were stuck there. Wanting to rip your hair out as a giant cloud of sex-driven frustration rained down on you.

"Speaking of ghosts," you can't help but interject, speaking a little louder than you had originally anticipated, "I think I’m gonna go look for Ashton. He's probably off haunting the bar down in the lobby…"

"Well, if you insist," Calum says, saluting you, "good luck, ghost hunter."

As you exited the lounge with no issue and let the boys be boys, you thought to yourself.

Hm, getting out of there was a lot easier than I had anticipated.

But what you hadn't anticipated was the sheer speed in which your feet would pound against the floorboards once you started off down the hall. For you knew just where to look for him.

You were on a mission. A mission to find Ashton, in hopes that he could be the one to free you of the confines of your frustration. In the best way you both knew how.

Once you made it to the elevator corridor, you had to take a moment. To collect yourself and think... what the fuck are you doing?

Did you really think that fucking Ashton would get your mind off of the romantic connection you so desperately craved in him? Did you really think this was the best idea you've ever had?

The answer was no. You knew that this whole ordeal would dig your metaphorical grave ten feet deeper. But you honestly didn't have the energy to care. This witch hunt has turned into merely a way to get off.

Just like God intended.

You step into the elevator, already knowing your way around this hotel like the back of your hand after only being stationed here for a few days.

As the elevator made its' trip up to the rooftop, your senses were heightened. The elevator dings sounded like sirens and the climbing of floors was pushing down on you, making you feel as though the oxygen in your lungs was being forced out by the altitude change.

Your symptoms couldn't be explained by anything other than Ashton, as much as you hated to admit it. It was typical for you to feel this way whenever you answered to his beckoning call.

Just a quick and casual fuck. Quick. And casual.

You tried to focus your mind on those two words. Forcing your conscious out of habit and tricking yourself into believing them.

But as soon as the elevator door slid open, those two words were nothing but dust in the wind.

All you could see in the darkness of the twinkling summer sky was the curve of Ashton's shoulder, highlighted slightly by the patio lights. He was looking out past the glass that surrounded the rooftop, off into the New York City skyline.

You froze up upon seeing him, barely managing to step across the elevator threshold without vomiting all over your shoes.

There were remnants of smoke lingering in the air around him, a familiar, earthy smell touching your nose upon piecing your two senses together.

Before you could tell your brain to step forward, Ashton's head turns to face you. You finally get a look at him, a good look at him.

And fuck, did he look divine.

His hair was partially wet, rogue curls hanging lowly on his forehead with that post show gleam still laced throughout his features. He scratches at the stubble on his chin, a droplet of water dripping down his temple upon doing so.

"Y/N," he leered, the blank expression that once painted his face now lifting into a smirk.

"Ashton," you reply; although small talk is the last thing you wished to be having at the moment.

"Where've ya' been?" he asks, leaning his arm to rest against the back of the couch he was sprawled out on.

"The lounge... The guys are down there waiting for you, y'know." You try to divert the attention away from yourself. But you knew for a fact that you were the only thing on his mind right now.

His eyes scan your body. Up, and down. Up, and down. Like he was stuck in some sort of trance. "Well, that's funny, isn't it. Because I've been up here… waiting for you."

You fuckin’ knew it.

"And how was I supposed to know that?"

He pauses, thumbing at his chin, "I'm not sure, actually... 'Thought you would've had me figured out by now."

It was taking everything inside of you not to run over there and smack the shit out of him for being such a snarky asshole. But you were well aware of the dynamic between you two; this type of banter wasn't out of the ordinary.

"You just gonna stand there and stare at me, honey?" Ashton remarks, calling you by that nickname that makes your stomach hurt and revealing his hand from behind the couch; a lit and half-smoked joint plucked between his fingertips.

Without another word, you walk over to him, slowly starting to display more and more of his body laid out on the couch.

He had on a loosely fitting Hawaiian shirt, one of the ones with only half the normal amount of buttons, and a pair of grey sweatpants. To contradict the tone of the outfit and make it totally clear to you where his head was at when he put them on.

The Hawaiian shirt hung off of his shoulders, revealing his collarbone decked out in beaded necklaces and braided silver chains.

You wanted more than anything to take those chains between your teeth as he hovered over you, pinning you down and fucking into you like you were the last two people on Earth.

Sidetracked, Y/N. You’re getting sidetracked.

When it came to hooking up, you and Ashton had discovered a natural rhythm. A routine, of sorts, consisting of unspoken demands and a whole lot of Ashton holding the reins.

No need to give orders, or ask for more. You both knew what you wanted and exactly how to get it.

But that routine so deeply instilled in you had seemed to vanish as soon as you stepped in front of him.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you teetered from side to side, just admiring Ashton in all of his residually high glory. You wanted to say something, but couldn't bring yourself to say anything else but these two words:

"Fuck me."

His eyes widen in shock. Amusement, even. The joint between his fingers dwindling down to the roach and leaving ashes in the wind as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

"Y/N, I—"

You cut him off abruptly, "It wasn't a fucking question, Ash."

You didn't mean to come off so bossily, but at this point you were willing to do anything to forget about the weight that came with having alleged feelings for him.

Even if that something was letting him fuck you until you cried.

"Right here?"

"Yes." Your heart was racing.

"Right now?"

"Yes." Reminiscent of a heart attack.

And then he does something that makes you even more frustrated than you were before this entire ordeal. He looks at you, without a care, and just… shrugs.

“Works for me.”

You hated that. Oh, you fucking hated that. That cocky, ‘devil-may-care’ attitude. It gets you so worked up that you consider winding up your fist and cracking him the jaw.

But you don’t end up going through with your desires to hurt him at all. Instead, you’re pouncing at him. Scrambling to straddle his comfortably spread legs as he pulls you by your cheeks into a heated kiss.

You sigh upon feeling your lips on his, Ashton just as well. The both of you tend to melt into each other’s palms when your lips connect; which is another reason as to why your head was all fucked up and sideways in the first place.

As the kiss between you grows more primal, you find yourself taking out your frustrations and feelings on Ashton’s bottom lip. You sink your teeth into the soft flesh, tugging it down gently towards his chin.

His hands fumble for the button of your jeans, grunting lowly as he struggles to get it undone.

"Fuck— Get these… Get these damn things off…" The remark flies past his lips, and yours, in a disgruntled huff. You do as you’re told, momentarily disconnecting from him.

When you rise to your feet, being held up by weak, unreliable knees, he looks up. That face of amusement was still painted on, mocking you.

Was he still thinking about your desperate demand? Or was he just enjoying the view?

"Someone’s a little greedy tonight," he says, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his fresh, now sweaty, curls.

"I don’t wanna hear shit from you. You’re the greediest motherfucker alive." You tease back at him, undoing your zipper and shimmying out of your jeans.

"I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you, Miss ‘I never know what I want and I need Ashton to tell me’.”

"I knew what I wanted tonight, didn’t I?" His threats were empty, but you were loving it. You loved to tease, loved to be teased.

"That is true,” he sighs, looking down at the roach he had flicked onto the floor. He stomps it out with his steel-toed boot. "But that’s, what, one time—? Out of the however-the-fuck many times we’ve slept together?"

“You’re making this a lot more complicated than it has to be, Ash. Fuckin’ live a little.”

You were now in your t-shirt and underwear out on this rooftop, telling Ashton to live a little while you’re practically caving in on yourself in embarrassment.

"But, honey... why out here? Why right now?" he asks. Genuinely. Almost sweetly.

You didn't want to admit the real reason as to why you were acting so curtly. The embarrassment of sounding desperate and needy was doing numbers on you already.

"Does there always need to be a reason why?"

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling overexposed. But Ashton’s eyes scan down your frame as if there’s no shame left in the world.

"My apologies for seeming hesitant... You know full and well— I’d do you any time, any place.”

"Is that so?” you quip.

"I don’t think you realize how often I think about having you bouncing on my dick while I’m out on stage performing, so— yes, that is so.”

The way he admits this all so casually makes your stomach turn. You knew he was dirty, but not this dirty. You just assumed he knew that there was a time and place for all of these thoughts.

And the fact that he was thinking about you at all wasn’t making this any easier.

"Well?” Ashton snaps your mind out of the gutter. Ironic.

"Well what?"

"You just gonna stand there in your underwear?"

Oh. Right.

After a moment of blundering awkwardness, you walk towards him timidly, feeling as if your soul was freeing itself from your body as he extends his arms out to hold you.

You make your way back into his lap, digging your knees into the cushions comfortably beside his thighs and letting him run his blistered palm down the side of your face.

His bloodshot eyes find yours like a magnet. Your breath is trapped somewhere in your larynx as his hand continues its journey to your neck.

You felt like you were about to burst at the seams, the tension and friction building between you was like a bottle rocket, ready to set off into the sky.

And with that, exactly on cue, your heart is racing, as he cups your throat between ring finger and thumb. Your rattling ribcage was telling him all he needed to know when the pads of his fingers began to squeeze gently.

You close your eyes, "Ashton..."

"Y/N..." He repeats matching your hushed tone, swallowing the lump in his throat as your noses brush together.

His nose grazes yours with fragility and tenderness, his touch as light as a feather. But you couldn’t stand the space between you two. The clear disconnect between your lips and his.

He seemed to be lingering longer than usual. You found yourself wondering what the hell was going on in his head. Since you had clearly told him what you wanted a long time ago.

"Why aren’t you kissing me?" you ask quietly, still so close to his face that his features had gone blurry.

"Could ask you the same question, honey." His breath fans across your face and suddenly you’re reverting back to your old ways. Back before you were so— demanding.

“Well, not to be clichè, but— you’re meant to take the lead here, Ash.” You say it as if it were obvious, but he disagrees.

"Clearly not tonight."

Now, you were stuck.

You came up here to find him for one reason, and one reason only. To fuck him… to get your mind off of him.

But that all sounded a bit complicated, though. Didn’t it?

"Y/N…" He says your name again, reminiscent of pure honey dripping off of his tongue.

"Hm...?"

God, what is with him and saying your name?

"Is there something on your mind?"

You cock your head, "Would you still fuck me if I said no?..."

Ashton’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead.

"…Even if I wasn’t telling the whole truth?"

He backs away from you, giving you a better look at the confused expression laminated across his face.

"You’re a real card, aren’t’cha?”

His confusion melts into a smile, as he removes his hand from your neck to match his other at your waist. "You know I’d never force anything out of you, Y/N. But— just so you know… Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom."

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his terrible cliché, finding your hand lost in his unruly curls. "You’re such an old man."

He winces, "God— please… Don’t put that picture in my head… It’s killing the mood."

In the brief moment of silence and sweetness shared between you and him, it was taking everything inside of you not to scream at the top of your lungs.

You wanted to scream; Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you. Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you… over and over again.

Until it didn’t mean a thing.

"Not gonna lie to you, honey— M’gettin’ impatient." Ashton lets out a deep sigh, his eyes snapping you out of a downward spiral.

"Right, right. I’m sorry—"

You cut yourself short by reconnecting your lips to his. You missed this feeling, even after only a few minutes; something inside of you dies every time you pull away from him.

He pulls your waist into his torso, pushing you down and grinding you against the already hardened length in his sweatpants. The wildly thin material left no room for the imagination, as it was now creating friction against your wet panties.

"Fuckin’ hell, Y/N—" Ashton mumbles through your lips, and you just sigh. You sigh into him like putty in his hands, creating a rhythm of swiveling hips and only furthering the fireworks that were occurring in the pit of your stomach.

He removes one hand from your waist, blindly finding the waistband of your underwear like it was some mindless, natural instinct.

Muscle memory is a damned thing.

Detaching your lips from his, you whine. "Ash, please—"

You wince internally at how needy you sounded. How desperate and completely disheveled you’ve become at his touch. Yet the blistered pads of his fingers continued to trace slow, taunting patterns along your bikini line.

But as your breathing becomes more erratic, Ashton reads you like the book he already knows so well. Front page to back, cover to fucking cover.

He dips two fingers down into your underwear, attaching them to your sensitive bud.

You writhe above him, but he keeps you grounded, anchoring his hand on your waist with his forehead pressed against yours.

His eyes flutter closed in delight. "So fuckin’ wet for me, yeah? This’ all for me, honey?"

It felt like he was mocking you. Of course it was for him. It was all for him. Anything you ever did was for him. Any feelings you’ve felt, thoughts you’ve had, stories you’ve told… they were all for him.

You can only bring yourself to nod.

"Good, good…" he sighs, breathlessly, "Gonna’ take me so easy tonight…"

He continues his rhythm. One finger circling your clit while the other ghosts over your entrance. Heavenly sighs fall from your lips. You want to close your eyes, you want to enjoy the sensation as it were.

But you just couldn’t look away.

"Look at me, Ash."

A bout of confidence rolls through your veins and you aren’t quite sure where it was coming from, but you had no complaints. Your foreheads being pressed together was making you antsy.

His features were still blurry through glossy eyes, which you didn’t really like. You wanted to get a good look at him before you tried to dismiss these feelings, and pretend as though he meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

He does as he’s told, and backs away from you. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he took in every single feature, etching, God knows what else, on your face.

"You know how fuckin’ beautiful you are, Y/N?— Always so good for me… like an angel… heaven sent."

Those words unleash something inside of you. Tears begin to brim at your lower lash line and you’re suddenly reminded of the feeling that you are so desperately trying to forget.

Existing in this world with him felt so strange. You truly believe he was sent down to Earth to smite you and haunt your memories.

And hearing him call you an angel didn’t help a damn thing.

The words you utter next come out just above a whisper. Your throat feels gravelly, and dry. Like you hadn’t drank water in years.

"Fuck me, Ashton. Just— fuck me, please—"

"M’gettin' there," he grunts, ignoring your plea and still chipping away at your decorum with his bare hands.

You let out a loud, high pitched mewl as you feel his two fingers now inside of you. He always took his time when it came to pleasuring you, always making sure that you’d be the one getting off first, even if he didn’t get the chance to.

Now, you’ve found yourself thinking in depth about just how thoughtful he is.

Jesus fuck, give it a rest.

"You know how much I adore those sweet sounds you make. But you’ve gotta be a tad bit quieter for me, alright angel?"

Oh god, you thought, this nickname better not become a recurring thing. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to fathom the thought of him thinking of you so highly.

"Okay, oh— fuck, Ashton"

Your brain was moving at a mile a minute. While trying to be quiet and simultaneously losing your head in the process, a smirk slides across Ashton’s face. He picks up on the signs, he notices your movements on his lap becoming more and more frenzied.

You knew you were close. He knew you were close.

Oh, of course he fucking did. He knew you like the back of his hand.

"Ash, I’m close… Please—" You begged empty pleas, finding stability with your hands clasped around his neck as you jerk forward with that fluttering feeling.

"I feel it comin’. Bein’ so— so good… C’mon— give it to me."

His two fingers thrust in and out of you while a third circled your clit. You wanted to scream, but he told you to be quiet. You wanted to kiss him, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from the purely concentrated, almost sadistic look in his eyes.

"That’s my girl… that’s my fuckin’ girl…"

The sounds of your wetness boom through your head along with the sounds of his praise, slowly meshing into a garish ringing in your ear. The butterflies once encased in the pit of your stomach had set free, fluttering along your body as Ashton’s rhythmic fingers come to a slowdown.

"Fuck!" You cry out, as your body collapses into his chest.

You could feel his ribcage shake with laughter, as he takes that free hand of his to rub your back. Your head is tossed over his shoulder as you manage your breathing.

"…Is that all you’ve got in you tonight?"

You could barely hear his voice over the ringing in your ears, as you heave like this was the last breath you’d ever take. He then removes his fingers from inside of you, causing you to jolt, still sensitive from the electricity coursing through your veins just moments before.

"N—no…" You stutter into his neck.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

Your head was still spinning while you tried to cool down. The temperature of your bodies entwined was like a hot stovetop, setting your skin ablaze. But you couldn’t find it in you to lift yourself up from the crook of his shoulder.

You liked it there. It was comfortable. It felt natural.

After a few moments of silence and messy breathing, you lift your head up.

"All good now?" He asks, running a hand down your waist.

"I think so... Almost knocked me out with that one Ash, not gonna lie."

All he does is laugh, before hovering the two fingers he had used to unravel you with in front of the both of your faces.

"See this?" He examines his fingers, still glistening with your secretions, "Is this what I do to you?"

Your jaw falls open slightly, "Wh—"

He takes a moment to think to himself, pushing his lips to the side while you just watched in complete awe.

"…I wonder if my honey girl tastes as sweet as she looks?"

You don’t even have a moment to blink before he takes those two fingers into his mouth. He sucks whatever’s left of you off of his digits, before pulling them out with a pop.

"Mmm," he hums, "Just as I’d imagined… Sweet as fuckin’ honey"

Something inside of you snaps, and you’re suddenly reattaching your lips to his. He moans into you, taken aback by your actions with his hands fumbling to grab your ass and grind you down into him.

"I need— I need you…" You mumble into his lips, not long before he juts his tongue out to run it across your bottom lip.

His stubble scratches against your palms as you grab ahold of his face, trying to ease him into you as if it were even humanly possible to get him any closer.

"Need me t’fuck you, honey? You— you want me that badly?" He asks quickly, sounding out of breath already from the sheer friction of your hips grinding against him. You nod rapidly, and he dips down to kiss your neck to let you know that he heard you loud and clear.

“Please, Ash…" You couldn’t help it, your mind was still reeling, "I need to feel you—"

Your words come out airy and forced, like somebody was squeezing them out of you. But you couldn’t stop yourself no matter how hard you bit down your tongue.

"...Fuck me like I’m worthless… Fuck me like I mean nothing to you at all…"

His head pops up from the crook of your neck, a sardonic look in his eye.

"Say that again for me?"

"…Fuck me like I mean nothing to you, Ashton. Fuck me like I mean nothing at all.”

You couldn’t describe the way his face changed. The way it morphed into something that you weren’t at all used to. It wasn’t sarcastic, no. It wasn’t the usual cheeky grin, either.

You were afraid that you had just dug your grave even deeper this time.

"Stand up." He demands shortly, which brings goosebumps across your arms.

"Stand up?" You repeat, like a goddamn lovesick puppy.

"Stand the fuck up, Y/N."

You do as you’re told, wearily, lifting yourself off of him and rising to your feet. You watch in anticipation, crossing your arms over your chest as he remains sitting.

The dynamic between you two had shifted drastically. It was clear that Ashton was still in charge, only this time, it felt absolutely terrifying.

You wished you hadn’t said anything at all. You wished he had just let you ride him, as you were planning to do. But your emotions gotten the best of you. The thought of caring for him so deeply had actually brought you to spiral out of control.

What you had been longing for, all this time, was about to come true.

With that, you planned to do everything you were told. Each and every single order barked at you was to be followed. You wanted to see what it felt like. What it felt like to feel nothing for a change.

"Walk to the balcony." Another demand. You hesitate, still dealing with a subconscious battle of self. Your heart and brain were going at it like two bulls in the ring.

"Are you— are you gonna come with me?" You find your gaze glued to the patio, feeling as small and as meek as ever.

"Meh, I’ll make my way over eventually."

Fair enough.

You walk over towards the balcony; left only in your thin, grey CREW v-neck and a pair of frilly, sage green underwear.

The fact that Ashton didn’t comment on the color of them made you feel a bit discouraged. Green was his favorite color, after all. You at least thought he’d take a moment to appreciate it.

God knows that moment won’t be happening now.

You start to near the glass railing that surrounded the rooftop. But despite your back being turned, you could completely feel his eyes searing bullet holes into your flesh. A chill ran down your spine, uncomfortable with the feeling of being watched, yet enjoying the fact that it was by him.

"Keep walking."

You were getting so close to the glass that it actually started to feel cold, despite the lingering August air.

You also weren’t sure where his head was at. Him having you walk towards the balcony that was completely out-turned and visible to the street below almost felt like he was trying to humiliate you.

But that feeling was quickly washed away when you felt his footsteps behind you.

"You have any idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into, honey?” He inches close to you, close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating onto your back yet still too far away to touch you.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “No… I-I don’t think so…"

You were telling the truth. No, Ashton, you had not a clue what you had just gotten yourself into. The absolute wormhole that you had just unlocked for yourself.

A new way to feel about things. A new way to feel about him.

Another wave of chills runs down your back as he takes the back of his hand and runs it down your shoulder. You wince, wanting nothing more than to turn around and kiss him.

"I didn’t think you had it in you."

"What?" Your voice comes out high pitched. Almost… nervous.

"To order me around like that. To finally buck up n’ tell me how to have my way with ya’… It’s honestly— kind of impressive."

His hand strokes down your arm once again, but this time, you just sigh.

He thinks this is just roleplay.

Little did he know that all of this nagging and bossiness had come from the truest, most integral parts of your soul and your longing to forget about the way your heart beats for him.

"You think so?" You try to gain back your sparkle with a witty reply, "How else can I impress you, Ash?"

All of these words exchanged between you two were said facing away from one another. You hadn’t the energy to care, nor the energy to make this anymore meaningful than it was, or was not, supposed to be.

You’ve finally decided to let go.

"Well, you can start by bending over." He snaps back. He’s always been so quick with his words.

To follow your mantra from before, you do as you’re told, bending over slightly and exposing your bare asscheeks to him. You lean your arms over the glass railing, your wrists going limp in doing so.

"’Like the view?" You ask, sparing him a glance over your shoulder in hopes to get a little more of a rise out of him.

"The view won’t mean much while I’m using you, honey."

Your face grows pale, a rush of static that felt like pinpricks crawls across your body. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ashton.

The excitement and rush of it all is now, finally, catching up to you. You were about to have meaningless sex with the person that means the most. In a way, it did feel like roleplay.

Except your role was pretending like you didn’t give a fuck about him.

"Gimme’ your wrist." You hear Ashton bark another command from behind you, along with the shuffling of fabric. Before you could even offer your wrist to him, he’s taking it upon himself to reach up and grab it.

He swiftly pins one of your arms behind your back, making you gasp and teeter on your feet.

"Ashton…" You try to say, but are immediately silenced by his other hand hooking a finger to the waistline of your panties.

"Don’t say another word, Y/N. You’re in no position to talk right now."

Your breath gets caught in your throat, now with your one free hand anchored to the railing. It was all a waiting game, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely turned on by him and his newfound unpredictability.

"I have a job for you." His voice rings in your ears, as he bends down above you to be parallel to your curved back. "…Think you could follow some orders f’me? Just for tonight?"

Just for tonight, you thought. Just for tonight.

You nod at his question. It was the only thing you were capable of doing, anyway.

"You’re gonna take my cock… But I don’t wanna hear a peep from that dirty mouth of yours. One fuckin’ sound and I swear… I’ll send you back downstairs with mascara running down your face and nothin’ to fuckin’ show for it."

You nod again. You were a nodding, blubbering mess.

"Think you could do that for me? Think you could be good enough for me to let you cum again?"

You nod, once again.

"And you told me what you wanted, right? Told me loud and clear how you wanted me to treat you? Out here— where there’s a small chance somebody could walk in on this?"

His pelvis presses against you as he taunts, and you’re left feeling even weaker in the knees.

This time, it wasn’t a nod. It was more of a sob.

"Good, good to know…" He softens his tone, lips now centimeters away from your ear.

"…Now bend the fuck over n’ let me use you like you’re nothing."

In a flash of vibrant colors swirling around the backs of your eyelids, you feel Ashton push your panties aside. He runs two fingers up your damp slit, bringing your face to a pinch.

You were still so sensitive after letting him have his way with you the first time. But you couldn’t fathom going another minute without the feeling of him buried inside of you.

"Please—" You whisper, but only to yourself.

You didn’t want to know what he’d do if he’d heard it.

His next movements were methodical, and slow, like he was a puppeteer playing with your strings. His hands dance along the sides of your hips, moving up to rub the small of your back.

He puffs out a breath, seemingly taking you in from behind.

"You're a fuckin' vision, Y/N... It's too bad you don't want me to treat you that way."

His ceaseless taunting was making your vision go shaky.

But you needed to keep reminding yourself... you fucking asked for it.

"Gonna let me use you, honey? Like my own personal doll... that I can toss around n' rough up... Mmm, 'bet you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Ashton..." You can help but let his name tumble from your lips. But in a flash, his hand is cracking down on your bare asscheek, creating a loud clap that you swore could be heard for miles. You let out a yelp, but quickly clamp your lips shut.

Your skin burns from the contact, your mouth going bone dry.

"What did I fucking say about that mouth of yours, Y/N? Not a fucking peep."

As he guides himself up and down your slit, collecting your juices on his leaky tip, you choke back the tears in your eyes. You still wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him, which was just a damned thing.

"So wet f'me... God, I'm in heaven."

It was almost as if each string of sentences that came out of his mouth were traveling in through one ear and right out of the other. I suppose this was your karma for being so demanding.

But this is what you wanted, wasn't it? Even though Ashton's means of 'fucking you like you're worthless' still came with bouts of praise, he couldn't help it. He was only human. Testing the waters for the both of you.

Roleplay.

He traces one last drag along your folds, pushing your panties aside with his tip before suddenly slamming himself into you. You gasp at the sudden feeling of him, your body lurching forward towards the railing as his grip on your wrist grows tighter.

"Jesus fuck—." He groans through bated breath before starting his rhythm of pounding into you.

It starts off slowly. The feeling of him filling you up as your walls clench around him must've felt like heaven to the both of you, for he let out a long, dreamy sigh. The hand that was once toying with the hemline of your lacy panties was now planted on the small of your back, using you as leverage as he slammed his cock deeper with each stroke.

Ashton hums, the sounds of slapping skin now engulfing the air around you. "Fuckin' love this pussy... Like it was fuckin' made for me..."

The air in your lungs started to dissipate, practically leaving you begging for mercy at his expense. Your body jolted with each of his deep thrusts, still trying to stay quiet and do exactly as he had demanded of you.

His grip on your wrist had begun to feel raw, surely to leave you with some kind of marking, reinstating the absolute chokehold he has on you.

"Ash..." You whisper again, as he's grunting and whining from behind you.

"Whose fuckin' pussy is this? Whose fuckin' pussy is this?" He asks the question and you whimper, unable to gather any syllable of a sentence on your tongue.

Suddenly, he releases your wrist, picking up his rhythm of fucking into you. Your arm drops to your side like a ragdoll, as you scramble to balance it next to your other on the railing.

The hand of his that once held your wrist captive had traveled down to meet his other, gripping your waist and digging his blistered fingertips into your flesh.

"Fuck... fuckin' shit, Y/N... Takin' my cock so well..."

Using his hands anchored to your waist, he starts to pull you into him, slamming your hips into his pelvic bone and hitting that sweet spot with every. Single. Stroke.

"Fuck, you’re heavenly…. My sweet, sweet girl…"

At this point in time, you could care less about the semantics of this all.

Although the point of this was for Ashton to have his way with you without a single feeling attached, it seemed as though he couldn’t really help it. He was a blubbering mess of compliments and praise, a true gentleman through and through.

But that was something to think about while you lay awake in bed tonight.

For now, you just decided to live in the moment.

Ashton’s rhythm had grown sloppy. He was awfully close to making you finish for a second time, with each buck of his hips— meanwhile it was taking every last bit of your consciousness to keep yourself quiet. The pit of your stomach squeezed with each primal sound that fell from his plush lips.

"M’gonna cum soon, honey… ‘Gonna fill you up, yeah? Would you like that? Want me t’fill you up?"

Unsure of whether or not to verbalize your consent, you nod. Like a bobble-head on a broken spring.

"That’s my girl. That’s— my fuckin’ girl.”

Despite Ashton’s imminent orgasm, you could only think about two words.

My girl. My girl. My girl

They were flashing around your mind like the billboards in the Manhattan streets below. Each thought of those two words produced vibrant colors behind your eyelids, stars now fogging up the blackness as he slams into you a few more times.

"Gonna' cum, honey... G-Gonna' fill you up, m'kay? Fuck..."

With one final pound into you, the pulsing throbbing of his cock had come to a slowdown. You both let out a collective gasp, as the heat ignited between your bodies had meshed into a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Ashton collapses onto your back, the front half of his body slicked with sweat and pressing into you. Your breathing had begun to sync up collectively, only for him to pull out of you and make your entire body jolt.

"Fuck, Ashton."

You were finally able to speak again. You had gotten your words back, as well as your confidence. And the feeling of his presence behind you was all you needed to get you there.

He huffs, finally lifting himself off of you. But you lag behind, taking a moment to collect your breathing as he pulls his sweatpants up.

"Jesus Christ, honey. You're a goddamn dream." He chuckles, stepping back and allowing you the space to turn around.

And that you did. Finally faced with that dream he was on about.

Sweaty, messy curls glued and rearranged to his forehead. Glossy, hooded, fucked-out eyes. The fabric of his Hawaiian shirt soaked with the mixing of your sweat and his.

He looked obscene. He looked ethereal. You wanted to tell him how absolutely picturesque he was in that moment. You wanted to give him every gorgeous compliment you could think of.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

So you said this instead.

"...It'd be a dream if you could grab my jeans."

"Don’t be impolite, Y/N. What's the magic word?" He teases, motioning towards your jeans that had been discarded in a pile on the patio.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk, tough guy? After you just fucked the goddamn life out of me?"

He shrugs, "I wouldn't say I fucked the life out of you... If that was the case, you wouldn't be standing upright."

You huff, frustrated, but loving every second of it.

"Just– grab me my damn jeans, Irwin."

He does as he's told, begrudgingly walking the short few feet to grab your jeans as you stand, cross-legged, bare-assed, with your back against the glass.

"Your majesty," he bows, holding your pants out on his arm like a knight with your crown.

"Thank you."

As you put on your jeans, Ashton watches you. With those whiskey, honeypot eyes. Scanning down every inch of you as you put one leg in, then the other.

"If it were up to me, I'd send you back down pants-less."

"Yeah, right." You scoff, reverting back to your old ways of a thumping heart and a pain in your chest, "You know how much trouble I'd be in?"

"Trouble by who? I'm your boss, aren't I?"

You puff, pulling up the zipper of your jeans, "You don't act like it."

"Want me to start then?" He quips.

"...No. Absolutely not."

Ashton tosses you a smile, not long before he's holding out his arms.

"That's what I thought, honey," he motions for you with his hands, "Now c'mere."

Without even thinking, almost as if it were rehearsed, you spin around, falling backwards into his arms. He wraps himself around you, broad biceps squeezing your shoulders like a butterfly in its' cocoon.

The Manhattan night sky was twinkling with lights and stars. You stare out into it, and he does too.

As you stand cradled in his arms with the lingering of pitiful, degrading sex still in the air, you sat in your thoughts for a moment.

What happened tonight couldn’t have been a mistake. You had been speaking it into existence for so long, that it finally became a reality. From the way he so passionately kissed you, to the way he so effortlessly dropped everything to fuck you like you were worthless. Just like you had asked. Just liked you had intended.

But you knew, despite everything that happened tonight, that not a single thing would change. 

Your heart would still flutter out of your ribcage whenever he walked by. You’d still answer his calls late at night, or spare him passing glances in the concert halls.

You’d still come to meet him, no matter when or where. All with that same, God awful weight on your chest.

It all made you feel terrible. Everything about him made you feel terrible.

But you were willing to get used to that feeling.

To be completely honest with yourself…

You kind of liked it. 

It felt like being in love

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[masterqwertster]

A difference between Ashton absorbing the Spark and Fearne absorbing the Spark that I haven't seen discussed is that Fearne had the ability to ripcord out until the end of the 6th round/start of the 7th round while Ashton only had to the end of the 1st round.

Now by "ripcord out," I mean they could have halted the absorption process by either removing the Quintessence Array or potentially pulling the Spark out of the Array's funnel. Essentially, the Spark's crystal vessel had to still exist and be a separate receptacle, much like how the Quintessence Array cannot fully transfer a creature's magical essence without proper absorption time.

For Ashton, the Spark's crystal crumpled to nothing by the end of the first round via CON Saves (Ashton's early rounds were weird in that Matt rolled multiple damages against him instead of just one, especially the second CON Save round). All they had were those initial moments where it didn't seem impossible, didn't seem like anything they couldn't handle, to back out. 36 Damage and unaware they had to go for 9 more rounds where one pulse of Damage could do up to 60 Damage.

Fearne, on the other hand, besides having a much gentler time of it with zero CON Saves and able to use her own magic to help keep herself up from lower Damage rolls, had until the end of the sixth round or the start of the seventh round before the second Spark crystal finished crumpling into nothing. She had time to assess if it would be too much for her to finish, time to say "No, this was a bad idea. I don't want it."

I'm sure part of that difference is Ashton jumped in on a bad idea and was being forced to deal with the Consequences while Fearne's was a much more measured decision and the "safe" route. You know, game mechanics and penalties.

But consider it narratively.

The way I read it, one of two things happened: Ashton's body is so attuned/ready to be a vessel of great powers that it just slorped the Spark right up, no hesitation. Or, Rau'shan was so eager to move in with his old partner, that he jumped right in (and later backed out because it was too crowded to be tenable). And honestly? Both have interesting implications.

If Ashton is just a higher power absorbing machine, that can mean some interesting things for how he ended up with the Shard of Ka'Mort. Like that the Hishari ritual wasn't meant to bestow the Shard to anyone, but through whatever fuck up happened, Ashton chomped it up. Or that it was about bestowing, but Ashton was such a better vessel that it fucked up the ritual. And the Potion of Possibility giving them a half-beacon brain just happened. There's no explanation as to why it didn't just give him a Mote of Possibility to essentially reroll a Death Save into stabilizing himself rather than die, which makes sense with what the Potion does. Instead it made Ashton a permanent well of dunamis. Maybe that happened because Ashton is titan-blooded. Maybe it's because they are uniquely suited to being a vessel of great powers, that they possess a body hungry to hold more power.

On the other hand, if Rau'shan wanted in to reunite with Ka'Mort with all haste, that makes Ashton his first choice of vessel. Then Rau'shan backed out because three's a crowd and a quality vessel does no one any good if it breaks trying to use that power (because Ashton did manage to contain it all). And maybe he goes a little slower when a second vessel attempts to hold his Spark, just to make sure she's not going to blow up on him.

Or even Fearne just doesn't have the same draw for the Spark as Ashton, so it crumbled at the rate the Quintessence Array drained it at instead of being sucked straight through to it's new home.

I'm just saying, it's a very interesting difference that didn't need to exist to show how much easier absorbing the Spark is for not-Ashton.

[nephriteknight]

okay i've talked about this in tags and stuff before but i want to really break down the dorian - ashton dynamic, because it's so interesting. there are a lot of ways in which dorian and ashton are perfectly opposed, and there are also a lot of ways that they're deeply similar, and something about it is just fascinating to me.

they're both genasi, but one is air and one is earth. one was born into wealth and privilege, while the other spent most of their childhood in an orphanage in bassuras, and yet they both have very complex feelings about their parentage and their birthright and the power that comes with it. they're both frontline fighters who started c3 with the same strength score, but ashton uses a massive hammer and chaotic, uncontrollable powers, while dorian uses bardic flourishes and precise spells. ashton was abandoned by the closest thing they had to family, while dorian was the one to leave his own family. ashton is -2 charisma covered up with brashness and projected confidence, while dorian is +3 charisma but too nervous to use it effectively half the time. they both end up being treated as a sort of leader in their parties, much to their own surprise. dorian is this inexperienced, sheltered prince seeing the world for the first time, and ashton is frequently the voice of reason in bells hells, the one who knows how the real world works ("does no one crime?", reminding them that their actions will have consequences for others, pointing out that leaving someone to die is not actually better than killing them by hand).

in exu, dorian tells lolth that he would do anything to protect his friends, even if it would hurt others, and he meant it so deeply that his alignment changed from chaotic good to chaotic neutral. he got into an argument with orym because he wanted them to keep lolth's circlet, a decision influenced by his family history with power and responsibility. and now ashton took the shard, searching for power, motivated by the longing for his parents and his birthright and it is such a juicy parallel.

it's "i would do anything for my friends" vs "we don't leave anyone behind".

the first kiss of the campaign is dorian kissing ashton's cheek after the ratanish fight as an excuse to get close enough to heal him and tell him "we need you". ashton curses quietly when he realizes dorian has to go with cyrus. "to dorian, who is leaving us for his stupid brother. what the fuck is up with that." ashton says dorian is "our bag of dicks".

they're just so interesting. they're such interesting contrasts, both symbolically and in their characters, and i really hope that when (don't say 'if' it's gotta be a 'when' i am clinging to this) dorian comes back their relationship gets explored more.

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 1

Chapter one - Apple seed

Story Masterlist

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.8k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"You never understood you're everything to me I just hope you know, the future in your heart Is just about to start"

The universe must be mocking her, (Y/N) is sure of that. This is all one big elaborate joke and any minute now Ashton Kutcher is gonna jump out from behind some bushes and tell her that she has been punkd. 

She had a plan, all neatly laid out and organized. Blue ink on white paper in a fancy leather-bound notebook. Like a professional adult would do it who has their life all figured out. 

Renovate the store and get it back up and running

Sell it for profit 

Pay back Mum and get the fuck away from everyone and everything that has ever made her feel unworthy

That was the plan and she was so fucking determined to stick to it for once in her life. So this must be a prank. This must all be one big misunderstanding.

But it’s not a prank, is it? It’s the consequences of her own damn actions.

Her heart is racing as she climbs the stairs up towards Rebecca Welton’s office. Her legs and feet are heavy, like concrete. Why is being honest with your friends so damn hard? 

It’s not just any friend either. It’s Rebecca. Rebecca who has always been in her life ever since (Y/N) was just a kid. Rebecca who is the only person (Y/N) ever looked up to. Why is being honest with her so terrifying?

You know why! 

Yeah, (Y/N) knows why. Because she doesn’t know what she’ll do if Rebecca hates her for what happened. Of all the people in the world, she needs Rebecca on her side. 

As she lifts her hand and knocks on the door of the office, (Y/N) wonders if this is what death row inmates feel like. Knowing the end is inevitable and it’s all your own fault.

“Come in” 

Taking a deep breath, she opens the door and steps into the room. 3 pairs of eyes look back at her but really, the only ones that matter belong to the beautiful blonde sitting by the desk.

“(Y/N), Hi. What are you doing here? Did we have plans? I thought you went back — “

“Yeah I — no, we didn’t have plans.” 

It almost kills her, that smile that Rebecca sends her way. The one that’s so warm and loving and that’s been a constant in her life for most of her childhood and teenage years coming from Rebecca. Rebecca living in that lovely white house next door with the rose bushes and the big windows. Rebecca who taught her how to do the perfect eyeliner wing, who passed down her coolest leather jacket to her, who held her hair the first time she got wasted and threw up in those very rose bushes. Rebecca who was the older sister she never had. 

She loves that smile it used to bring so much comfort to her. Now it makes her want to die. The girl she used to be, deserved to be on the receiving end of that smile. She doubts she still deserves it.

“Can we—” (Y/N)’s eyes dart around the room towards Higgins, then towards the other man. He’s the American trainer, Ted. She’s talked to him once very briefly and he seems so — nice. Genuinely nice. Not for the sake of being perceived as a good person but because he just is. “— do you think we could talk privately?” 

There’s a flicker of concern in Rebecca’s eyes and (Y/N) hates that she put it there.

“Oh, of course. Ted, Leslie, would you excuse us?” 

Everything’s a blur. They leave and (Y/N) thinks Ted makes some kind of pun but she doesn’t really recognize anything but the racing of her heart and the sour feeling in her stomach. Oh, fuck.

Rebecca sits her down on the big couch by the window, the one that’s meant for personal talks, not business. She’s so nice. Oh, she's too nice.

“Are you dying?” 

“I — uh, no.”

“Okay, good.,” Rebecca says letting out a sigh of relief. “Now that that’s out of the way, can I offer you some tea?”

(Y/N) shakes her head.

“Coffee?” 

She repeats the motion

“Champagne?” Rebecca asks, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in question.

God, wouldn’t she kill for a glass of bubbly right now. 

“No, I’m good. Can you just come sit down, you’re making me nervous.” 

Not only does she sit down, Rebecca’s hand immediately finds (Y/N)’s, holding on warm and tight. It almost pulls an ironic scoff from (Y/N)’s lips. Mum doesn’t know but even if she did, she’d never offer this kind of comfort to her. She never did. So for a second, she lets herself relish in the affection. Just one second. 

“Okay, now out with it.” 

She’s rehearsed this conversation so many times in so many different ways. Like a school presentation. Meticulously planned. Even added in pauses for questions and shit like that.

All of that has vanished, her brain is empty, her tongue made of lead. 

“I uh — look um. Do you remember when your dad died?” 

Of all the ways she could’ve started this talk, this is probably the worst of them all. Who says things like that?

Rebecca seems a little taken aback for a moment before nodding her head and suppressing a slight smile, one brought on by the absurdity of the question, not by joy. “I do, yes. Hard to forget if I’m being honest.” 

“Yeah, I would know.” 

“Yeah.”

“So that night I was obviously very emotional because it reminded me of my dad and all of that bullshit.” Tears are already threatening to roll down her face, sitting on her waterline waiting for the right moment to strike. It’s impressive she still has any left to cry since that’s all she did the last few days.

“That’s understandable. Oh, please tell me you didn’t force yourself to come and relive all of your pain just because you felt like I expected you there? If I knew it was so hard on you I —” 

This, all of this, is twisting the knife so much deeper. Leave it to Rebecca to search for a fault of hers in all of (Y/N)’s mess.

“No, Rebecca, it's nothing like that. I — I fucked up. I let it all get to me and because I’m, well — me, I got a little tipsy. Went outside to get some air and there was this guy. God, Rebecca, he had the saddest eyes. I just felt this weird connection so I sat next to him. We talked and talked and then ended up going to a bar and then to my place and then to my bed and well yeah.” 

She giggles. Rebecca really has the audacity to giggle at that. In her defense, she tries to hold it in but it does slip out eventually. 

“It’s not funny.”

“Is this why you’re upset? You slept with someone at, no wait, after my father’s funeral. That’s okay.”

“There’s more.” 

"Oh, what is it? Was it a footballer?” 

At the lack of a vocal response, Rebecca connects the dots.

“Alright. That’s — that’s not so bad. I was seeing a 21-year-old footballer. I don’t see what’s making you so upset about this.” 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh shit.” 

Getting Rebecca to swear was always something (Y/N) found a silly sense of pride in. Rebecca with her perfect hair and outfits and manners. It felt like something so alien to her and yet that was (Y/N)’s favorite version of Rebecca. The one that’s as messy as you and me even if it’s just for a second.

“Yeah, shit.” 

It’s the first time she said it out loud. Rebecca is the first person to know, except for (Y/N) herself and her gynecologist. Her mother doesn’t know. 

The father of the baby doesn’t know.

Just her and now Rebecca.

“And I don’t know what to do. This wasn’t the plan. Fuck — please don’t be mad.” 

“Why would I be mad? ” 

There is an infinite warmth in Rebecca’s eyes. A warmth she always longed for coming from her own mother but never received. A warmth that seems entirely misplaced right now. 

“I fucked your employee. I used your dad’s funeral to make the shittiest of all shit decisions and now I come here unloading all of this on you because I, once again, don’t know how to get myself out of the hole I dug.” 

Soft hands wrap around (Y/N)’s shoulder and pull her in. Rebecca smells like expensive perfume and hairspray. All comforting and familiar. It’s nice, (Y/N) thinks, that despite everything falling apart in and around her, there is at least one constant in her life. 

“Were you really afraid of telling me or are you just afraid?” 

She’s so smart and so observant, sometimes it’s infuriating. 

“I’m so scared, Rebecca.”

Life doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It doesn’t ease you into things, slow and gentle. There are no training wheels, no floaties. Life happens whether you’re prepared or not. It’s nice to know that there are arms wide open for you to fall into, a hand to pull you out of the roaring sea as you’re just about to drown.

“You can always unload on me, you know that right? That’s what family is for.” 

All the willpower to stay brave and collected and not cry, all that vanishes with Rebecca’s words. Family. They’re family. Maybe not by blood but definitely by fate. By choice. 

Mum would’ve told her to suck it up, to stop crying, and to face the consequences of her own actions. Would’ve probably had an “I knew this would happen” or an “I told you so” on the tip of her tongue. There is none of that with Rebecca. She just accepts the tears soaking through her, no doubt, expensive blouse and softly strokes (Y/N)’s head. 

For a long time, there are no words exchanged. Some moments ask for calmness not conversation. There’s something deeply therapeutic about crying on the shoulder of someone you deeply trust.

“Can I ask?” Rebecca inquires with a gentle voice just barely louder than a whisper.

She doesn’t have to elaborate. There are only so many questions people have after you told them you had a one-night stand and ended up pregnant. 

“You’re gonna hate the answer.” 

A laugh falls from Rebecca’s lips, her breath tickling the top of (Y/N)’s head. “Don’t tell me It’s Jamie.” 

“Okay, I won’t then.” 

“Oh, (Y/N).” 

Where there should be disappointment in her tone, there is understanding, there is slight amusement but above all, there is deep and honest care. 

“ Can you blame me? Look at him. He’s sculpted by the gods and something about that silly little accent does it for me. I hate to admit it, I truly do.” 

“Does he know?” 

(Y/N) shakes her head, guilt and fear coursing through her veins.

“I don’t even have his number. I know hardly anything about the guy other than that he’s a footballer, that his ego is huge, and that he likes to cuddle after sex.” 

Rebecca’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Does he? Huh.”

“Yeah, it was really cute actually.” 

For a moment she almost gets lost in the memories of that night, however hazy they might be. Jamie was fun and to an extent he understood. And there’s nothing quite as sexy as a man who is just as sad and messed up as you. Is it healthy? Absolutely not but (Y/N) never claimed to have a particularly healthy view on anything. 

“He works here, you know. In this very building. You can just pop down and tell him.” 

The way Rebecca says it makes it sound so easy. Like it doesn’t come with a shit load of guilt and fear and embarrassment. 

“Wait, I didn’t even ask and I just realized that’s very presumptuous and maybe a little rude of me — do you even want to keep the baby?” 

That’s the big one. The question of all questions. It’s the second thought that came to her head when (Y/N) saw the two lines on that fateful plastic stick. The first one being “Oh fuck.” It’s the question her doctor asked. It’s in all of the leaflets and informational reading she’s been handed.

“I’ve never thought about it before. I mean sure I thought about some hypothetical future but those dreams always changed depending on my mood. Now I’m here and I need to make a choice and It’s — It’s terrifying.” 

“But?” 

“But I think I do want it. I think I want to be a — a mother.” 

It’s a word that feels strange on her tongue, bitter and sharp. Like biting down on your cheek and tasting blood. Mother was never the warm comfort of a home. It was the cold hand on her shoulder, the icy glance of disapproval. 

Maybe mother can be something else. Maybe she can turn it into something sweet.

“I’m just scared. This wasn’t the plan, not right now at least, and not like this. I’m scared of doing it alone.”

“What in the world does that mean? Alone?” 

“I don’t expect Jamie to step up. I’d appreciate it, of course. But he has a brilliant career and so much going for him. Getting me, a one-night-stand, pregnant could ruin so much for him. I don’t ever want that.” 

“No,” Rebecca says and cradles (Y/N)’s face between her warm hands “I mean, you’re not going to be alone. No matter what Jamie says. You have me. And I can guarantee you that there are at least 10 other people in this building right now who will also have your back. Whatever happens, I can promise you that you don’t have to do this alone. And don’t sell yourself short, you have a career too!” 

Maybe the universe isn’t mocking her after all. And maybe this isn’t a punishment either. Maybe this is just life pushing her into the deep end. Thank god she has people to help keep her afloat.

(Y/N)’s eyes wander from the clock on the wall towards the door then back. Over and over again.

Every time the door opens and someone leaves the locker room, her heart speeds up. Maybe if she dies of a heart attack right here and now she won’t have to talk to Jamie. That sounds like the most reasonable reaction. Anyone would agree. Right? 

The boys all regard her with a sense of cautious familiarity. They know her face, know they’ve seen her before but can’t recall where much less put a name to her. 

Well, all of them but Sam. He greets her with that big signature smile of his, so full of joy and sunshine. Calls out her name and asks her about her day. Rebecca might have a point that there are more people here that care about her. Their conversation is brief but there is no doubt in her mind that if she were to call him any time of the day, Sam would drop everything and help her out. That’s just the kind of person he is. 

She wonders if that’s the kind of person Jamie is. 

Another glance at the clock. 2 minutes pass. The door opens once more.

Jamie is smiling when he steps into the hallway. His hair is wet, probably from the shower, and held back by that silly little headband of his. He’s wearing a ridiculously bright orange hoodie and obnoxious colorful sneakers. Everyone else would look absolutely ridiculous in this get-up. Jamie makes it work. It must be some kind of superpower. 

Or maybe he’s just so unfairly fit that it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing. Even naked he looks phenomenal.

Stop thinking about him naked, that’s what got you into this mess.

“Oh, hi!” 

He’s so nonchalant, so casual when his eyes meet her’s across the hall. And really, why wouldn’t he be? What they had was casual. A one-night thing, no strings attached. Just two slightly broken people finding solace in each other. That was all it was supposed to be at least.

(Y/N) feels the weight of the secret resting so heavy on her shoulders, she’s sure she’ll collapse underneath it any second now. 

“Jamie, hi. Uh — can we talk?” 

“Sure, ‘bout what? Are you pregnant or something?” 

He says it with a smile, not giving a single thought to the fact that his joke might be no joke at all but the honest to god truth.

(Y/N) on the other hand, feels like someone doused her in ice water, just poured it all over her. Her hands are clammy, breathing shallow, heart racing. Maybe she’ll get that heart attack after all.

When she doesn’t answer, doesn’t laugh, Jamie’s eyes grow wide in return. Though his reputation might make you believe otherwise, he’s quite quick in putting two and two together. At least in this situation. He doesn’t look happy, that much she expected, but he doesn’t look upset either. He just looks shocked. There is nothing but pure disbelief on his face. The cocky smirk has dropped, now his mouth is opening and closing trying to produce words as his head is trying to process the information he just figured out.

“Do you want to go discuss this somewhere more private?” 

Of all the places to tell someone they got you pregnant, the hallway at his workplace might not be the more desirable. 

A pale-faced Jamie nods his head, his eyes distant and glassy. She knows the feeling, has been there just a few days ago. That’s his whole life playing like a movie in his head right there, now with added scenes of a small child with his eyes. Oh god, she hopes the baby gets his eyes.

Jamie drags her into a small room off of the main hallway. Cubicle cupboards line the walls, filled with shoes and boxes. Orange and bright green and yellow. Every possible color of the rainbow, they have a pair of shoes to match in here. The smell though? The smell has her gagging. Sweat and cold cigarette smoke. It’s disgusting. 

“Oh god, Jamie. This is disgusting.” 

“It’s the boot room. ‘s where we keep the boots — and people come here to smoke.” 

“They come here to smoke? On purpose? Like they chose to spend time in here?” 

Jamie absentmindedly nods his head. He’s so pale-looking (Y/N) fears he might just pass out any minute now. 

“Jamie, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?” 

His eyes start to focus again, looking straight at her. He’s terrified and quite honestly, she can’t blame him. Confusion and fear are all she’s felt for the last few days. A bit of excitement too, sure. But mostly the first two.

“Yeah. No. I mean yes. I guess? No. I — fuck.” 

Nervously he combs his fingers through his damp hair as if to calm himself down. Is that something his parents did to him when he was a kid? A motion of comfort? There is so much she doesn’t know about this man. If he decides that he wants to stick around, can this ever work? Can you raise a child with someone you hardly know and not completely fuck them up? 

“Is it mine, then? Are you sure about that?”

“No, I just like going around scaring people into believing they got me pregnant. Yes, Jamie! I am 100% certain.” 

His hands fly up in defense “Jesus, sorry. I don’t know your sexual history. You had sex with me after a funeral, don’t know how much you get around, now do I?” 

She had expected him to ask if it’s his, hell anyone probably would, but there’s something about his tone that is just so off-putting. The accusation that swings along with his words. The judgment. As if he is in any place to talk.

“Oh get off your high horse, dickhead. We both made that decision after the funeral. Didn't hear you complain. And out of the two of us, It’s not me who fucked a girl in a hot tub on national television. Eurgh” 

“You alright?” 

“No, this room is making me gag. I assume this is bad under normal circumstances but this pregnancy situation has my sense of smell going through the roof. This is killing me.” 

“Well, why didn’t you say nothing?! We could’ve gone somewhere else.” 

“I just wanted to — eurgh— I just wanted to get this over with.” 

“Let me get you out of —” 

“No, let me just say this real quick and then I’m off.” 

She’s prepared this speech a million and one times in a million and one ways. It always worked out fine but then again, her audience was just her cat and the mirror. Having Jamie look at her, a mix of concern and shock still on his face, that’s a whole different story.

“I am having this baby and I would like for you to be a part of their life, but I accept if you say no. Just know that whatever you decide, that’s final. I can’t have you running off and then coming back in a few years regretting your decision and wanting to be a parent after all. And I most definitely will not allow you to say you’re in and then give up on the baby halfway through. I had a parent like that, I will not have my child go through the same thing. I don’t need your decision now just — make up your mind and make sure you’re 100% certain. Here uh— “

Trying to hold her breath so as to not breathe in any more of the foul smell, (Y/N) rummages through her purse before pulling out a small piece of paper.

“They don’t usually do ultrasounds that early but I made friends with the nurse as I was waiting and they allowed me to get one and see the baby. Don’t really see shit on here if I’m being honest but apparently that blob is our child.” 

Jamie takes the picture, his eyes moving between the image and back to her, down to her stomach then back to the picture. It’s like his head and his eyes are trying to cope with the fact that there is a real baby growing inside her. His baby.

“I just thought you might want to have this, if not just throw it away. I’m not trying to manipulate or guilt you into anything. Let me know when you’ve made a decision. You know where I live and Rebecca has my number just ask her for it — I gotta get out of here. Eurgh.” 

And while an overwhelmed Jamie sinks to the floor of the boot room, ultrasound picture clutched in one hand while the other nervously combs through his hair, (Y/N) throws up in the bin by the front door. 

There are 3 things (Y/N) knows for certain. One of them is that Michelle Pfeiffer as Stephanie Zinone in Grease 2 is the coolest person in the world. The second one is that decaf coffee kinda sucks. And 3 is that whoever is knocking on her door at 9:15 tonight, disrupting her rewatch of Grease 2 better has a good reason to do so if they want to keep their head attached to their body.

Slowly she’s dragging herself towards the door. Today was exhaustion enough both physically and mentally, she really doesn’t need the stress of an unannounced visitor. Not when she’s dressed in an old, oversized Hardrock Cafe shirt, bike shorts, and those ridiculous yellow slippers she got on her last trip to Disney that look like Minnie Mouse’s shoes.

“I’m coming, Jesus — “ 

“I don’t know shit about babies.” 

Jamie looks different as he stands before her on her front steps, hair messy and flat against his head, wearing a big grey sweater. Gone is all the charming confidence and the mischievous smirks. He’s all sad eyes and shy smiles. He reminds (Y/N) of a sad, beaten puppy. She almost feels bad for him. Almost. That’s until the words that just fell from his lips really register in her mind.

“You could’ve just texted me you’re not interested. Didn’t have to come here, really.” 

“What? No, I am! “

“You just said —” 

“I said I don’t know shit about babies. Cause I don’t. But I’m not gonna run off.”

“You won’t?”

Jamie has never looked so genuine, so serious as in that moment and it sends a weird feeling through (Y/N). She didn’t have any expectations in him. You can’t really have those if you don’t even know the person. Sure, she hoped he would take interest in her and the baby but things truly could’ve gone either way. To hear him say that he wants to step up and be there, that’s a feeling she can’t really put into words.

“Can we uh — can I come in? Your neighbor is staring at me.” 

(Y/N) opens the door to let Jamie pass before leaning outside and facing the house next door. Sure enough, old Mrs. Hartley is standing by her window, eyes trained on (Y/N)’s front door. Jesus fucking Christ, do these people not have their own lives? 

The small pink couch looks even smaller with Jamie’s broad frame perched in the corner. He’s holding onto the fluffy white pillow as if he needs some kind of buoy to keep him afloat.

“Do you want tea or something?” 

“Do you have beer?” 

She only raises an eyebrow in response and points to her stomach. 

“Right. Pregnant. Forgot about that for a second, sorry. “

Oh, the privilege of getting to forget about that. 

“I have water, ginger ale, and apple juice.” 

Jamie screws his face in repulsion. If there is one thing she’s learned about Jamie Tartt in the limited time they’ve spent together, it’s that his emotions are always so clearly reflected on his face. She’s not sure he knows exactly how expressive he really is.

“I’m good. Here, I actually brought you some stuff.” 

As she sits down on the couch next to him, Jamie holds out a Tesco bag to her filled to the brim with stuff. 

“What’s all this?” 

He looks bashful, almost shy as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. 

“Just some stuff for your nausea. Google said anything ginger helps so I got these lollies. Also sour candy and crackers. Not sure if it works but I felt so bad seeing you earlier and knowing it's kinda my fault, innit?."

It's such a sweet sentiment that (Y/N) can feel the tears gathering on her waterline. Maybe Jamie is the kind of person she can call when in need. Maybe he can become that person.

"That's very sweet Jamie, oh there's more."

It's a small box with two even smaller socks, so tiny it almost seems impossible that a human being can have such small feet. 

"Saw them and couldn't stop thinking about how cute they were and then I couldn’t stop imagining our baby being so tiny and wearing them and, yeah.” 

“They’re adorable, Jamie. Thank you.” 

His words wrap around her heart like vines. Taking root. Blooming. 

“Our baby”. The thought of having a baby is still so foreign to her. Her own baby, her child. Hearing Jamie call it theirs sends a flutter of feelings through her. Their baby. Part her and part Jamie.

“So what I meant earlier is that I don’t know shit about babies. None of my friends have babies, I have no siblings and all my cousins are around my age so I never really had experience with babies. I know they’re cute and I know they poop a lot. “

“They are pretty cute.”

“Yeah, and our baby?” he says and motions between the two of them “‘s gonna be the cutest fucking baby of all time. It’s genetics.”

The matter-of-fact tone in which he says it pulls a laugh from (Y/N). He does have a point though.

“I am not going to lie, I'm extremely unprepared for this. For being a — a dad.” 

There’s a bitterness there, a heaviness. Maybe Dad is as sharp and as cutting a concept to Jamie as Mum is to (Y/N). 

“Don’t have a dad. Well, I do but he’s right asshole, isn’t he. So I got no idea how to be good at this, had no one to show me. I’ll try though. I want to be different. I need to be. Promised myself when I was a kid that I was not going to be like him, ever.”

“I understand that, trust me Jamie I really do. But I need you to be sure that you want that. I don’t want you to stay around because of some misplaced sense of duty. I want you to want this.” 

"Didn't think I did. When you told me and you gave me an out I wanted to take it. But then I kept looking at that picture, can’t make out anything on it by the way but that doesn’t matter, I kept looking at it and that part of me. That's my baby and I couldn't live with meself if I gave up on it. On you. A lot of people have given up on me in my life and I resent them for it. I can't be the one giving up now, can I? I'm better than that."

She doesn't even realize the tears have found their way out until Jamie's face fills with concern. "Oh no, I didn't mean to make you cry or nothing."

"They're happy tears, I think. I'm really scared, Jamie. Knowing that I don't have to do this all by myself, that helps a bit."

"I promise I'll try to be the best at this. I'll even rub your feet if they're hurting and I fucking hate feet."

Leave it to Jamie to put the humor back into even the most serious and tense of conversations.

"You don't have to rub my feet, that's okay. I do think we should get to know each other better though, now that we're gonna be raising a child together. I know hardly anything about you."

"Uh, you know plenty about me. You know I'm fit, obviously. You know I have great hair. I'm good at football, fucking ace actually. Also sexually."

That little shit has the audacity to wink. it should be annoying. It's weirdly charming though.

"And now you also know that I'm gonna try my best to be good at this. Hey, when the baby is here can I get one of them kangaroo pouch thingies and take them to training with me?"

"Kangaroo pouch? You mean a baby carrier?"

"Yes, that! Strap it to my chest while I do my warm-up."

"You are not taking our baby to training with you, are you insane?"

"I'm joking, Jesus. Would look fucking cool though, maybe get us matching sunglasses. Hats too. Baby icon."

"Oh my god, you know what, maybe this is a bad idea after all."

But it's not, she doesn't mean that. Jamie knows it and (Y/N) knows that he knows. For the first time since those two lines appeared, it feels like she can breathe easy again if even just for a moment. Things will be hard, no doubt but at least she can share it with someone. And it's just an added bonus that someone never fails to put a smile on her face.

"What are you watching there anyway?" Jamie asks, nodding his head towards the tv.

"Grease 2."

"They made a second one? Is it good?"

"No, it's terrible. I love it."

"See," Jamie chimes up, a small genuine smile.on his lips "learned something new about you. The mother of my child loves bad movies. This getting to know each other plan is going so well already."

And while it is a joke, there's also a flicker of truth to it. It's the little things that make us who we are. Like our love for bad movies or our desire to be better than our parents before us.

"Do you wanna stay and watch it with me?"

"Can we start from the beginning?"

"Obviously"

"Then yes! Give me one of them ginger lollies please."

They spent the next few hours watching Grease 2 followed by the first because - well it's just right to watch them both, really. It doesn't feel forced or awkward. This is not two strangers trying to bond for the sake of their child. This is a genuine friendship in the making. It feels wonderful. They exchange numbers, birthdays, favorite colors. It’s all very superficial information but it’s a start and it’s easy. This whole situation is hard enough, sometimes easy is just what you need.

The clock says 12:03 when Jamie decides it's time to go home. 

Just as he is about to leave, one foot already out the door, he turns back with curious eyes.

"Do you know how big the baby is?"

"Uh, no. Pretty tiny I think."

"They didn't tell you what fruit size?"

"Fruit size?"

"Yeah like, it's as big as a strawberry now or something."

(Y/N) shakes her head in response "I think they mostly do that in American movies."

Jamie looks deflated for a fracture of a second before he lightens up again and one of those rare smiles takes over his face. The one that makes him look so boyish and excitable. Like a fucking golden retriever.

"That's okay. I'll find out."

"You do that. Let me know what you find. Have a good night Jamie."

"You too!" Then his eyes move to her stomach "And you too baby."

God, he can be so adorable it's absolutely sickening.

As she lays in bed, (Y/N) thinks back to just the night before. To the anxiety and the fear. To all the what-ifs that ghosted through her head. That seems like a whole lifetime ago and even though a lot of those fears are still present, they get overshadowed tonight. By the knowledge that she's not alone. And by the absolute sunshine that is Jamie Tartt. 

Just before she closes her eyes, her phone dings with a notification. 

Her hand comes to rest gently on her stomach. There’s no change there yet, absolutely no sign of a baby growing in there at this very moment. And yet she knows and that makes all the difference. 

In a voice, soft like silk, she whispers “Daddy says goodnight”. It’s cheesy, outright sickening but in the dark of the night, who is there to judge her for it? Sometimes you have to let yourself be ridiculous and cringy if your heart demands it.

That night she doesn't fall asleep to fear and anxiety. That night she falls asleep with a smile on her face. 

[its-your-mind]

okay LISTEN. I fucking love the energy of the "the apocalypse is ACTIVELY happening right now, and so every day where we don't get things done is an active problem."

but DAMN do I wish we had a few days to fuck off to Tumilo to dig into Ashton's past. They fucking deserve to have a few days going after their own shit.

Remember, Ashton literally only decided to stick with Bells Hells because they heard Orym say the word "Ashari" and impulse-decided to help him on his own mission for the sake of maybe finding out a bit more about their past. They've spent a lot of time going along with these people, their new family, helping them all follow the trails of their own pasts. They deserve a chance to go after their own.

But the world is ending. The gods could all die tomorrow. How could Bells Hells possibly justify taking the time to follow any trail but the one Ludinus laid out for them? And yet, for Ashton, who has given so much of himself to all of them, how could they not?