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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

“They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

“Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

“I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

“I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

“Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

“Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

“Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

“It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

“I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

“But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

And you woke up.

The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

“How long have you been talking to Dean?”

He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

“Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

“He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

“It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

“I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

“The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

“Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

“Can I help?”

After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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kybervisions · 3 years

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a taste of life [kylo]

summary: ben solo is brought back from the dead by a force-sensitive pirate and is given the opportunity to start a new life as part of her crew.

author’s note: hdjfkj i love the idea of a pirate!reader so here is my contribution,, so this takes place a few weeks after the battle of exegol in which the first order was defeated ,, if you’ve played jedi fallen order than reader’s ability is exactly like cal’s ,, lmk what you think :)) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Isao muttered as he navigated the ship through the wreckage. The ruins of Star Destroyer fleets decorated Exegol, evidence of the New Republic’s victory. And There was so much to loot! You chuckled. The Scorpion landed near a weird-looking throne. It was so dark that Isao landing the Scorpion was a miracle.

“Well I see a very fun trip to Canto Bight in our future,” You said with a smile and ran out of the cockpit. It had been a while since you last visited the city and partook in the activities of wealthy individuals. You so desperately wanted to gamble and drink credits away, so you quickly strapped your belt on and grabbed a blaster before exiting the ship. Nori ran after you.

“Canto Bight? I thought we were going to Jedha and see the remains of the Jedi temple there,” Nori expressed disappointment with your desire to return to Canto Bight. She had become obsessed with learning more about the Jedi after learning about your Force sensitivity.

“Jedi Temples don’t have open bars,” You reminded your Twi’lek friend, “or casinos,” Nori sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to be plastered and gamble,” You smiled. “No need to get ourselves involved in Jedi business,”

You’ve known about your connection with the Force your entire life. You were a member of the Blazing Chain — an organization of nomadic raiders made up of Force Adepts that wandered Unknown Space. With no loyalty to the Sith or Jedi, the Blazing Chain simply utilized their Force abilities to make raids easier. Three wars occurred, and each time, for better or for worse, the Blazing Chain remained neutral. You had no intention in breaking that tradition.

As you walked, you found a cube. The strong fog made it nearly impossible to see, but your foot gently kicked it. A faint blue glow radiated from the cube and you felt a compulsion to pick it up. You knelt down, and as your fingers touched the cube, a scene played back in your head. And then, a blinding white light.

“Ahh, dank farrik!” You shouted and crawled away from the cube. Nori ran to your side.

“What happened? Are you okay? Did it happen again?” Nori asked frantically. By ‘it’ she was referring to one of your ‘echo episodes’ in which an object gives you a memory by touching it. You were one of two adepts cursed with that ability from the Blazing Chain. It was referred to as a Force Echo.

“I’m fine,” You groaned, feeling a sharp pain in your head. “That kriffin’ holocron was part of the battle here,” You informed Nori, crawling back to the cube. It wanted to be opened and only you could do it.

“Whoa,” Nori marveled at the unique gold design on the cube. You held the cube in your palm of your hand and closed your eyes. Within seconds, the holocron levitated and opened. “That is so cool,” Nori muttered.

A white ball of energy emerged from the holocron. You opened your eyes and a bright white light shined. You appeared possessed, and it terrified Nori. She screamed. You began muttering words in a language she couldn’t understand.

The energy ball dispersed. The holocron closed and fell back onto your palm.

“What the kriff was that?!” Nori exclaimed. You stood up, completely unfazed by the recent possession.

"No clue,” You told your friend.

A tall man dressed in black emerged from the fog. The light from the Scorpion beamed on the man. He was very pale and bloody. His black sweater bad a large hole and was absolutely filthy-looking.

You would not be caught dead wearing that.

“We don’t want any trouble, um, sir,” You attempted to de-escalate the interaction. The holocron must be worth thousands and there was enough on the Star Destroyers to share with the beaten-down man.

“Do you know who I am?” The odd man asked.

“Oh...um, no?” You replied. You looked to Nori. She shook her head.

“Where did you get that?” The man looked at the holocron in your palm.

Immediately you tossed the cube to Nori, who put it inside her bag. “Get what?” You played dumb. “Do you need any help? A new outfit perhaps?” You asked him, looking at the large tear on the chest area of the sweater.

His right hand reached for the hole in the sweater. His fingers touched his bear chest. He stared blankly at you, “I’m lost,” He felt a strange comfort when looking at you.

It was you that gave him life.

“Well you are in luck!” You said with glee. “We are pirates and there isn’t anywhere we can’t go,” You informed the stranger. As a child you learned all the best traveling routes to bypass First Order and New Republic checkpoints. With the power struggle and chaos that followed the fall of the First Order there was no better time to be a pirate.

“Coruscant,” He replied rather quickly. With Alderaan destroyed, his mother would be buried at the capital. Coruscant had been in open rebellion against the First Order, and he was certain the New Republic would restore peace.

Your smile dropped, “Coruscant? Why would you want to go there? Are you part of a gang?” You questioned and reached for your blaster. “Like I said, we don’t want any trouble,” You said cautiously.

“What do you have in Coruscant?” Nori asked, aiming her blaster at his head.

Truthfully, nothing. Kylo had nothing.

“Where are you going?” He asked you, and your smile returned.

“The Smuggler’s Moon,” You replied.

Kylo remembered hearing Han mention Nar Shaddaa throughout his childhood. It was an entire world filled with pirates and outlaws. It was also the homeworld of the Hutts. Leia would threaten Ben with a visit to Nar Shaddaa when he would not behave. It terrified him as a child.

“Got some people that might be interested in that glowing cube,” You mentioned.

“You can’t sell that!” Kylo exclaimed. Both women took a step away from him, but they weren’t scared of him. They appeared rather annoyed with his outburst and demand.

“First of all, I’m the captain, so watch your tone,” You pointed at him, unamused. “Second of all, I can sell whatever I want,”

“That cube is an ancient Jedi artifact,” Kylo informed you.

“Oh, well in that case,” You smiled. Kylo smiled too then, believing he had convinced you to keep the very thing you used to bring him from the dead. “I know just the Hutt to sell this to,”

His smile dropped instantly.

“Are you a Jedi?” Nori questioned.

Was he a Jedi? Ben had been a padawan when Snoke tainted his mind. He spent more years of his life as a pawn for the Sith than he did as his uncle’s student. He blankly stared at Nori before his attention returned to you.

“Doesn’t matter,” You answered the question for him. He was beyond grateful for your reply. “The cube is getting sold, and you, my friend, have three options,” Ben knitted his brows and slightly tilted his head in confusion. “You can remain lost on this hellish planet, I sell you, or you can join my crew,”

“Why?” Kylo asked. Kindness was not virtue he experienced often. There had always been strings attached to the kindness of others. Snoke disguised his actions as a way of helping Ben. Oh, how stupid the mind of a child is.

You had already done more than you knew — you brought him back to the land of the living, unknowingly it would seem. Offering him a spot on your crew was you giving him a chance to truly live. Joining your crew would also give him a chance to figure out how you gave him life.

“Tall, broad-shoulders beast like you, figure I could sell ya for some pretty New Republic credits,” You smiled, taunting Kylo.

“Isao said to hurry up or he’s going to leave without you,” A B1-series battle droid exited from your ship. The droid was in pristine shape, despite its mismatched torso and right arm. "I don’t know if he was being serious,” The droid added.

Nori walked toward, “I’ll hold him off,” Both she and the droid boarded the ship. “And I’ll adjust your sarcasm setting,” Nori smiled at the droid.

“So, what d’ya say?” You asked him. “Roger could use help cooking and cleaning,” You laughed as the words left your lips. You were filled with genuine happiness. Kylo could feel it, and it was intoxicating.

He gave you a simple nod, “I will join your crew,”

“Great, do you like Canto Bight?” You asked and began walking toward the ship. Kylo was hesitant to follow you. You felt his hesitancy and stopped walking to face him.

Kylo studied you for a brief moment. Nothing about you screamed danger, but he was almost certain your hands were drenched in blood. “I’ve never been to Canto Bight,” He replied and took steps towards you. There was so much Ben had yet to see. So much of the galaxy still left to explore, and somehow, you blessed him with the breath of life.

“Oh, you are in for a treat, big guy,” You stated, more than happy to show off your favorite vacation destination. “But first we are gonna need to buy you some clothes,” You said and boarded the ship. Kylo followed after you, and the scent of burnt cookies touched his nose.

“Sorry!” Roger apologized, attempting to get rid of the smoke by frantically waving his arms.

#kylo ren x reader #ben solo x reader #kylo ren one shot #ben solo imagine #star wars one shot #kylo x reader #sw fic

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battle-of-alberta · 3 years

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OCtober: Cal and Ed

It’s finally over. I’m sorry for the delay but stuff has been Happening. If there’s a tourism site that attracts you more to one city or the other, let me know.

Calgary | Edmonton

Below is some meta stuff about the ‘research’ (if you can even call it that, it was more of a vibe check) I did for re-doing the profiles. Read on, if it intrigues you. And I gotta mention there’s a bonus rabbit hole I went down for Calgary’s self-image that is. Well. A Lot.

Major Cities: Calgary and Edmonton

We made it team, the heart of the Battle of Alberta, the major city rivalry that defined generations. Calgary is the largest city in the province and the centre of southern Alberta, a young, fast-paced major city that oscillates wildly between boom and bust and is attracting both attention and employees from the traditional major cities in Canada. Edmonton is the capital of the province and the the most northern major city with a metro population of over one million on the continent, a little older and more blue collar, somewhat more stable economically, and quickly rising to meet the challenges presented by open data and sustainable urban planning. And, as we know, they've been antagonizing each other since the 19th century, but collaborating as well.

Website Round Up Premise

While I was revisiting these character profiles, I took a look at how cities represented themselves on their municipal sites and tourism sites rather than how cities were represented in the news or in stereotypes, as the latter already tend to live in the back of my head. I was interested to see who the target audiences for each city were, what they considered their strengths, and how much effort each city put into putting its own identity on display. I was also interested into what ideas sort of fed into any pre-existing confirmation bias I had about each city's personality as well as interested in what narratives might be used to counteract negative stereotypes.The first thing I tended to notice was the overall information architecture of each city's website. How easy were they to navigate? What kinds of information did they have? How did they organize it? How did they communicate that information?

Out and About

There's a sharp difference between the websites of major cities from other cities. They are very careful to separate the corporation of 'The City of' from the cities we might know, and therefore both websites have a much more business-like tone and more distance from their civic identities. This means no traditional "About" pages as other cities might have.

At the time I'm visiting, Edmonton's page has some ADORABLE art of a nuthatch that's making me very homesick. Calgary has a seasonally appropriate snowy skyline.

Calgary does have an "Our Organization" tab which describes the City as a corporation, and likewise Edmonton has a "City Government" tab that performs a similar function. Edmonton's is in alphabetical order which is only a little annoying and Calgary's reads like a very perfectly chunked business portfolio that doesn't... really say as much as it looks like it does, but it does get bonus points for vision/organization/accessibility.

I have never seen a more concise history of Calgary in my life. It's literally three bullet points and a couple of bracketing sentences, but it does do the job. Calgary is, more or less, what it says it is (although I do take slight issue with its self identification as a trading post - it may have functioned that way but that was not what it was founded for and in fact the trading companies gtfo'd asap in those early days). It goes on to paint a very good sketch of the city in as few lines as possible in the text, and there's a little video at the end that feels like it was voiced over in 1988 even though it's clearly not.

Edmonton's City government page is even vaguer. Let's make a more dynamic and resilient Edmonton shall we, the page suggests. Resilient against What Exactly, I wonder. Winter? The boom-bust? Calgary? who knows. The majority of the sub pages are even more mysterious and essentially paint the picture of a city. It's a normal city. Trust us. We do city things. Here is exactly how government works and how to raise and lower a flag. In Edmonton, which is, in fact, a city.

I'm begging you if you think Calvin is hokey and annoying please read the Our Culture page and see it's EXACTLY how I intended to portray him because it's eXACTLY what it's already like. "The Four C's of Our Culture" give me a break.

Edmonton offers me a picture of the skyline and says "City of Opportunity: City of You". I suppose this is true. I don't know what it means. I fear slightly for its intentions.

I keep seeing "Calgary: A great place to make a living, a great place to make a life" and it's like. Stop! I won't go! You can't make me! (and again the Strong and Resilient Calgary. these kids are always catching colds because they don't eat properly.)

Although Edmonton makes literally zero attempt to define itself (outside perhaps the official symbols page hidden under Facts and Figures), what strikes me is that it is portraying itself as a very future-oriented city, which, when I was growing up we really never were. We were an inward city constantly wishing we were somewhere else which is partially still true, and we were a city with such an intense nostalgia (that unlike Calgary we failed to really capitalize on) that grated roughly against a complete failure to preserve history. It does kind of make me glad that the city is looking towards the future and just like, acknowledging basic realities (like snow) and trying to involve people in urban planning more (and throughout the website the city LOOOOVES to share data which I also called, haha). There's also an adorable animation of the city road map in its strategic planning pages. It's interesting that for a city that leaves itself up to your own interpretation, it does have a LOT of information about itself collected and available.

Tourism

Oddly enough, neither city has substantially changed their tourism homepage to accommodate COVID-related staycation plans, although each does mention that many things may be closed or unavailable as a result of the pandemic.

CaLGARy, Be PaRT of THe EnERGy!!

I like how Edmonton's self-presentation is "original" and "we do things differently". It's like a Keep ___ Weird thing but in an understated self-assured way that makes me laugh a little. Like yeah, I guess we are kind of different, I guess we're just not used to seeing that as a good thing.

In the tourism guides there isn't much to say about Calgary's that isn't just "oh, classic Calgary" but I do think the fact that they have "quick facts" to explain what timezone it's in and what currency they use is adorable to say the least. also the title of the guide is CALGARY (and the canadian rockies) and that sums up Calgary pretty well, which I'll elaborate on more.

I actually can't find Edmonton's guide, if it has one, but that's ok. The website hits all the buttons that I would and I actually use exploreedmonton quite frequently because it has a nicer event calendar than the city website does, which is important in a place nicknamed Festival City. I really appreciate how things are organized by month/season and even down to "what's happening today/tomorrow/this week" because it makes planning trips for my visitors easy, so now you know my secret : ) I wish I could just beam this site directly into people's brains when they mention "oh yeah thats where the mall is" when I say I'm from Edmonton.

Interestingly enough it's Calgary's turn to be vague, which I can only assume is part of its "exactly what it says it is" charm. This desperation to find a shred of self-description outside of things to do and places to stay led me down a rabbit hole I will elaborate on in a moment that truly showed me I Knew Nothing about how deep Calgary's branding goes. Otherwise, the website is very practical and functions more like an answer to questions you had about the what and the how and less so the why.

Also, the "Locals" page on Calgary's site has tips on hosting friends and family from around the province safely during the pandemic which is kind of cute. Edmonton doesn't really have a local page (i guess because if we had a hashtag like #loveyyc we'd ruin it)

Bonus: The Rabbit Hole

I wondered why Calgary's tourism page, which I expected to be the most in your face description of the city possible, fell kind of flat. I learned this seems to be because tourists are not the target audience that Calgary wants to attract. It's companies and corporations, and they get their own page.

Boy oh boy do they get their own page

This led me down this frightening path of getting validation like being repeatedly punched in the face by what On Brand Calgary truly means and I'm frankly quite speechless about it - all I can say is that you need to see it for yourself.

The tourism site gestures to a Billion reasons why you should hold your next meeting in Calgary and here is where the self definition as Big City Energy and Western Hospitality starts kicking the tires and lighting the fires. Likewise with the media-oriented page. Suddenly stuff like the Calgary Bucket List starts popping up and I can't help but go hang on, why not suggest this to tourists?

"It's cowboy spirit, but also refined and cosmopolitan" [sighs into hands]

Suddenly all the "Calgarians love visitors! Calgarians love the outdoors!" stuff is spilling out like water from a dam here. "Where's Calgary?" [Link that reads FIND US].

Like i literally feel like the tourism side on the left is the Kids Menu, it's the corporate stuff on the right that I'm actually finding the type of information I want on. Eventually, I somehow make my way to Calgary's Destination Strategy which is trying to make Calgary a place that... well, people go. Like, internationally. Like the Olympics but MORE of that.

Then I find the Brand Evolution. Then I find Calgary's Economic Development site. The poetry about rocky mountain prairie skies and "where a handshake still means something" starts to reach its peak.

Then back through the tourism site I find the video. And the video makes me shake because it suggests the premise of The Powerpoint.

The Powerpoint. I cannot summarize the powerpoint in any meaningful way or how my emotions were a rollercoaster further and further up and down the longer i scrolled. Everything I know and suggest about Calgary seems to be unequivocally true, including the sense that Calgary as a person is the sort of person who makes powerpoints about his own identity crisis because that's precisely what this is.

And then I get to the part of the powerpoint that suggests I imagine what kind of person the city of Calgary might be (and implied: does that person think about anything other than the mountains???) THEY EVEN DID AN OCEAN PERSONALITY TEST FOR THE CITY I KID YOU NOT

Hi, City of Edmonton, hire me to take an OCEAN test for our fair city. I'm begging you.

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ms-demeanor · 4 years

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After reading your "ultra-long postivity post", now I have kind of a weird feeling because i relate a lot to pretty much everything you said, but i ended up approaching the "not everyone can x" from the opposite side, being the "gifted kid" teachers used to hold everyone to unrealistic standards (that i knew most couldnt achieve in the given timeframes), and now i get frustrated when i dont develop skills immediately, because i have done it before and feel like i should be able to and aaaaaaaaaa

Funny story: when I was a kid my parents had both my sister and I tested for learning and developmental disabilities. This testing included IQ testing.

It identified that we were both “gifted” kids* and that I’m dyslexic.

It totally missed my ADHD, though!

The problem with that is that my parents. Hm.

Okay my parents both grew up in very poor families. VERY poor. And they both wanted to go to college and knew the only way that they could was through scholarships. So they became debaters. They met at a tournament in high school.

Debaters are weird. You need an efficient working memory and strong recall and the ability to think quickly on your feet. Being witty and kind of an asshole are also good traits for debaters. Basically you’ve either gotta be really fuck-off smart to be a competitive debater or you’ve gotta at least *seem* really fuck-off smart.

And my parents were champion debaters at a national level. The Whittier College debate trophy has my mom’s name written directly under Richard goddamn Nixon. My dad was on the USC debate team and competed against Harvard and won. Not only that but he ended up coaching debate for USC and Cal Tech.

So as kids who grew up in extremely poor families and were able to go to college and get middle-class jobs and buy a house because of intellectual ability my parents placed A LOT of importance on intellectual ability.

So that IQ score became a large part of my life.

First we attacked the dyslexia. The approach was basically teaching me a bunch of sight words because sounding out phonics doesn’t work when the letters get screwed up. And because I was *gifted* we did a lot of really BIG sight words.

It took about six months to get me up to speed from “memorizing the pages of a story to match the pictures because I couldn’t read along in class” to “the first book I read on my own was The Hobbit.” I guess that counted as “cured” because that was the last time I got any kind of educational assistance.

At that time I was at a gifted school, a really tiny private school that was also an after-school daycare where we did full-day classes and then did gymnastics and swim from 3-6pm. I also was there over the summer because my parents worked.

So going from “tiny private school where the teacher has you stand up in class to read your failing grade in front of everyone so that she could shame you into performing better” to “fine public school in a suburb wealthy enough to have arts programs” was a major, major change. They did an aptitude test because I was transferring in from a different district and there was much discussion about whether or not to move me directly from the second to the sixth grade.

The district refused, thank fuck.

The public elementary school didn’t *have* a gifted program so it took very little time for me to become the Certified Weird Kid. My third grade teacher had me read aloud to our class for twenty minutes a day. I taught the class the multiplication table.

When it got to be time to go to the junior high school my mom went to a meeting for the school’s gifted kids program. APPARENTLY one of the kid’s dad’s basically said “I don’t understand why you’re wasting school funds on field trips for the stupid kids, the school should spend more of its resources on kids who have a chance of actually meaning something to the world” and my mom decided that while being gifted was important it was less important than making sure I wasn’t exposed to assholes of that caliber on a regular basis.

(thanks mom, I actually do really appreciate that reprieve)

Several teachers pushed me into advanced classes - my math teacher insisted that I take the advanced algebra classes in the seventh and eighth grade.

The GATE kids *WERE* assholes and were extra bonus special assholes to me because math was the only advanced class that I was in. (At my junior high school you had to pick your elective based on what level of classes you were in - to take the GATE classes you HAD to take a music elective; if you took art, drama, shop, or home ec you couldn’t take the smart kid classes. The algebra class was a new, separate addition to the program so *some* of the kids in the “electives for dropouts” program could take algebra. Schools are really fucked up, guys, in case you didn’t know schools are really fucked up and that was BEFORE No Child Left Behind).

I got a C in that algebra class and sat in my room for literally an hour screaming at myself for being such a selfish, distracted idiot that I let myself read my books instead of studying harder for the class. (clearly very healthy, normal twelve-year-old behavior)

When it was time to go to high school my teachers made a united plea to the district to transfer me into honors/IB/AP classes.

The kids in the honors/IB/AP classes continued to be kind of awful to me. I got extremely depressed and basically started doing the lazy-but-brilliant thing of completely ignoring homework or in-class work but performing spectacularly well on tests or essays in the classes that I wasn’t catastrophically failing

I was the only person at the school who got a perfect score on the vocab part of my SAT. I was the only honors kid who hadn’t been in SAT prep classes. There was only one other kid who graduated with the same number of units as I had, we’d outstripped the valedictorian and salutatorian but three classes each. I only applied to one college - I got accepted for painting but my interviewer urged me to move to the writing program and I got accepted for that too.

My financial aid didn’t come through and my dad wasn’t willing to cosign for loans on “an art program at a trade school.”

I got accepted to Pratt Institute on their Writing for Publication track which included an internship with the New York Times for third-year students in the program.

At that point I had a Columbia Scholastic Press award for my work on my high school yearbook.

Let me tell you, the community college that I went to and spent five years variously failing and succeeding at had a fucking *killer* newspaper and magazine when I was there. The local community newspaper that hired me when I was 21 was also much better designed and edited than it had any right to be for the three years I worked there (getting paid a whole eight dollars an hour and sometimes working 20 hours straight to get it in to the printer on time).

When I transferred to the state school I got perfect grades and worked full time and won every contest offered by the school’s English Honors society (which I couldn’t join because I was a transfer student and hadn’t done honors classes my freshman and sophomore years). I started a literary magazine with some friends when I graduated; we published four full issues online before it fell apart.

You know what’s also funny?

Even the food-service job I had to pay my way though the community college I felt terrible about attending was a skills test. I was a barista, so of course for a while I was a competitive barista.

I disappointed my parents a lot. I heard a lot of “we know you’re better than this.” I got told I was too smart to be screwing up this bad. I mentioned it a couple weeks ago but my results from that IQ test got compared to my sister’s and that was the justification for holding me to a higher standard. “You’re measurably brilliant, why aren’t you acting like it?”

Here lies the corpse of a gifted kid. Look on my works ye might and despair.

I am the perfect picture of a twice exceptional gifted kid and the reason I wrote all of this out is to tell you one thing:

“Gifted Kid” is a label that someone applied to you, it has nothing to do with who and what you ARE.

It’s very, very unfair that the adults in your life used you that way. I have an exceptionally terrible memory of being singled out as the only one who passed the first test in my IB World History class; “Why is Alli the only one of all of you who is writing at grade level? You’re supposed to be the smartest kids in the school, why did you all fail?”

That’s awful for the kids around you, that’s awful for you. It doesn’t do anybody any favors if people around you are being informed that you’re setting the curve they’ll be judged against. And it really, really doesn’t do YOU any favors because it doesn’t take long *at all* for your brain to learn that that’s all you’re good for. If you aren’t the best at a thing then what’s the point, you HAVE to be best because they already SAID you were best and if you aren’t then all these other people hate you for setting a standard that even you can’t keep up with.

You end up competing with past versions of yourself and focusing on those things that make the grownups in your life praise you because the grownups in your life has praised you in such a way that it’s turned all the other kids against you.

You know who bullied the fuck out of me? The kids I taught the times tables to, the kids I read to for half an hour a day.

Those kids were MEAN to me but the teacher who told me to read Boxcar Kids to the class after lunch everyday was NICE and she told me not to worry, they were just jealous and I should be proud of my gifts.

“Anon did this in three minutes. What’s taking the rest of you so long?” - what a terrible weight to put on a child. You’re right. Not everyone can do everything.

Fucking hell.

Adults what the everloving shit is wrong with us? Please don’t treat kids like that.

Okay.

But here’s the other thing:

If there’s any time in your life that it’s easy to acquire skills with no apparent effort it’s when you’re a child surrounded by a support system that is engaged in making sure that you can acquire those skills.

It took three adults, two dictionaries, and several hours a day to teach me enough sight-words to throw me into “look at baby genius*” territory but from my perspective as a little kid I was just reading cool stories.

I spent four hours a day in the yearbook room and ditched and failed other classes so that I could work on the yearbook. I collected hundreds of magazines to get an eye for layout. But from my perspective as a teenager it was a fun activity that I did with the closest thing I had to friends.

I’m sure that there are some skills that you had a natural aptitude for, some things that came naturally. But I’m also sure that you didn’t learn those skills with no effort, it’s just that now as an adult with a life and other shit going on it takes more effort to learn to do things.

In all likelihood you weren’t a savant who did everything perfectly the first time you tried. It just seems that way because even really smart kids don’t know when they’re bad at things and are mostly being compared against other kids (with the few rare exceptions of music prodigies or math prodigies or those kids who end up in science grad programs at 12 and boy howdy do I think there’s a whole other can of worms when it comes to the way child prodigies* interact with the world).

You wanna know what probably saved my life in the last few years?

That “anti-capitalist love notes” tumblr post.

You are worth more than your productivity.

I was actually kind of offended the first time I saw that post on my dash. “No I’m not,” I thought. “You’re only worth what you can do, everyone knows that. People care about what you do for them.”

And why the hell would I think anything else? That’s what I’d learned for pretty much my whole life.

It took me a really long time to understand that I was wrong. I matter outside of what I can do for people or how well I perform. I matter more than being able to perfectly recite poetry from memory or do calculations on command or sit down at a piano and play a piece I’ve never played by sight-reading it.

And you matter outside of that too. You’re more than your performance, you’re better than being gifted. There are people who love you for the way you make them laugh and how you listen to their stories and for the simple joy of your presence.

It’s nice to be clever, it’s handy in a lot of situations even if it does come with a lot of baggage for some people.

But god damn, it’s important to be kind.

* Personally I have issues with the way that society constructs the concepts of giftedness, genius, and prodigies. There are a lot of “gifted” kids who were the kids who scored in the top 5% of their class in school but there are also gifted kids who were doing high-level math or reading novels as toddlers; there are prodigies who showed an aptitude for music young and who were then schooled in that instrument to the exclusion of all other activities (and I bet there are a fair number of kids who might be considered prodigies if they were trained to play flute for nine hours a day and didn’t have friends but thankfully we don’t *do* that to very many people - side note, ask me my opinion about olympic athletes some time). Words like “genius” and “gifted” are very nearly meaningless and almost *never* accurately reflect skills proficiency or long-term success or are reflected in income or respect. People think that geniuses are hypercompetent robots with their shit together but literally every adult I know with a genius-level IQ is some variety or other of total fucking tire fire.

#congratulations you have unlocked level two of my tragic backstory #long post

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thinfairytalex · 4 years

Text

🦴 My Ana Rules! ⚠️TW⚠️

⚠️𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈𝙀𝙍⚠️

DO NOT VEIW IF YOU DO NOT HAVE AN ED! PLEASE DO NOT READ IT IF YOU DO NOT HAVE ONE! I WOULD TURN BACK BUT ITS TOO LATE SO PLEASE TURN BACK WHILE YOU CAN! IF YOU HAVE ONE PLEASE GET HELP IF YOURE READY! I HATE MY EATING DISORDER AND SO WILL YOU IF YOU GET ONE BECAUSE OF ME!!!!

🍴𝙁𝙊𝙊𝘿 😋

Bad foods:

👎🏼Olive Oil

👎🏼Coconut Oil (not as bad but not suggested because it tastes gross anyways)

👎🏼Avocado

👎🏼Butter

👎🏼Ghee (idk what this is but the internet just said it was fatty)

👎🏼Yogurt (Except greek)

👎🏼Cheese

👎🏼Peanut butter

👎🏼Flax Seeds

👎🏼White pasta

👎🏼Bread ESPECIALLY BAGELS

👎🏼Mashed Potatoes

👎🏼Rice

👎🏼Ranch (but ilyyyyyyy)

👎🏼Granola

👎🏼Bananas

👎🏼Corn

👎🏼Peas

👎🏼Potatoes or Sweet Potatoes

👎🏼Chips or Fries

👎🏼Raisins

👎🏼Candy or Icecream

👎🏼Pizza

👎🏼Meat other than grilled chicken (My preference)

👎🏼Buttered Popcorn (except skinny pop)

Safe Foods:

✨Fish (Salmon and Mahi are the best)

✨Grilled chicken

✨Any fruits or veggies except bananas, avocados, potatoes, corn or peas

✨Green Tea

✨Sugar Free Foods (under 100 cals)

✨Skinny Pop

✨Sugar free jello

✨Eggs

✨Chili Peppers

✨Gum

✨Dark chocolate

✨Apple Cider Vinegar (If you are willing but it may effect your teeth so i’d suggest to wash you’re mouth but not brush teeth)

✨Blue Berries (BURNS FAT!!!)

✨Cinnamon

✨Greek Yogurt

✨Raw Veggies

✨Soup

✨Salad

✨Nuts

✨Oats

✨Straight up honey

✨Water (bruh)

✨Diet Sodas (that are 0 cal)

✨Ginger

✨Any thing super low in fats and under 100 cals

I suggest eating fat burning items or low fat items and also low calorie items too so you can eat a bunch of them and not have to worry like fruits and veggies! This was just my foods list also the calories depend on the brand except for natural items so i didn’t include them. I usually try to stay under 300 calories when i’m not fasting. I also suggest eating more than i do and allowing more items i’m just strict on myself. 🍇

🏋️𝙒𝙊𝙍𝙆𝙊𝙐𝙏𝙎 💪

This is my personal but i like to have a total net of -1000 or -900 calories (because i’m so young this doesn’t even burn but 3-4 pounds a week), i suggest more like 300 a day net 😅

What i like to do to burn those calories are:

✨ My 500 calorie workout- You can find this in one of my 30 day thinspo challenges.

✨Take cold baths- For my average time i’m in the bath I burn around 399 calories check out one of my older posts on how many calories you burn when in the cold bath for a certain time.

~Also I exchange for every night (because i lovveeeeee hot baths) so i take a hot bath one night but i do 2 rounds of my 500 calorie workout and then if it’s a cold bath night i do one 500 workout and a cold bath to burn 399 calories, also that’s on fasting days. On my restrictive days i burn 300 (look up ways there’s a bunch) and then a cold bath and one workout or two workouts and a hot bath.

😑 𝘽𝙊𝙍𝙀𝘿𝙊𝙈 💤

Days with none or lack of food can feel extremely lonnnggggggggg or can be extremely boring, here are something’s i do when i’m hungry, craving, or bored and trying not to eat~

✨Look at inspiration

✨Sleep

✨Excersize

✨Scroll on tumblr

✨Listen to music

✨Brush my teeth (stops cravings and makes ur teeth pretttyyyyy)

✨Bathe

✨Online School (CoRoNa TiMe or if you actually do this)/Homework

✨Clean out my food hiding place (if parents aren’t home)

✨Draw or do art

✨Shop Online (or irl after quarantine)

✨Plan Outfits for tomorrow

✨Text my frenz

✨Walk my dog

✨Bake (! DISCLAIMER !: I UNDERSTAND BEING IN THE KITCHEN IS AWFUL FOR CRAVINGS BUT JUST ONLY THINK ABOUT NOT EATING WHAT YOU’RE MAKING AND BEING KIND AND GIVING IT TO FAMILY)

✨Write down calories for when your away from the screen and around food

✨Think about how good hungry feels compared to how that food tastes

✨Hang out with friends but not if they are going out to eat (when this is over)

✨Study

✨Watch fat people eating/Fat people mukbangs

✨Watch fat people cringe or dancing cringe

✨Look at the mirror

💔𝘾𝙊𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙍𝙉𝙎 🥺

This will be referring to your questions and concerns about your eating disorder and ,if you are not ready to receive help (please do if you can), how to reply to your parental figures, families, and friends concerns and questions.

Your Questions and Concerns~

“What about my hair falling out?”

👒 If your hair is falling out i would suggest to look up ways to keep thinning hair in good condition and also buy hair strengthening products if possible. 👒

“I can’t do this!”

💞 DO NOT i repeat DO NOT DO THIS IS YOU DO NOT WANT TO! but if you want to but believe you can’t, just remember to stay strong and you got this!!! 💞

“Is it bad that i’m so cold always?”

🧤I mean it’s going to happen, it’s a symptom of not eating and also a symptom of being thin so it’s gonna happen. I suggest just putting on a jacket or a few layers of clothes on your cold area🧤

“How do i dodge meal time?”

🍽 Dodging mealtime is the worst struggle for me like ever! I just can’t do it! I also feel awful wasting food but if it comes to being thin, there’s no choice. I usually say i’m going to the bathroom and start up a conversation before and continue talking about it while leaving so they don’t notice i’m taking my plate to the bathroom and i just put it in my hiding place in my room (that’s right next to the bathroom) and if your room isn’t close to the bathroom then find a hiding place in the bathroom wether it’s putting a container under the towels or in a shelve i’ll find a place but then take a little longer and if they ask what took so long say you were fixing your hair (if you say this do it but fast) or you were trying to clean under your nails with soap, if they notice less food say you got hungry while fixing your hair (i recommend the hair one)🍽

“Why isn’t the ABC diet/Rainbow diet/other diets not working for me but others do?”

👎🏼This is because either you didn’t count cals correctly or because you didn’t workout enough but a lot of the time these are just not not for some people like a lot of diets aren’t enough for my preferred daily weight loss or are too high calorie for me to lose anything. 👎🏼

“How do i answer questions or comments my friends and family make?”

👇🏼 Answers are below! 👇🏼

Family and friends questions, comments, and concerns~

“Have you lost weight?”

-I suggest answering like “Not that i know of” or maybe “I’ve been sick” but for that one make sure your parents know you have recently so if one of them are asked by the family member who asked they say you were or lastly “I don’t think so, but i just started putting more effort into [sport you play or are practicing] recently so maybe but if any just a little.”-

“Are you okay? I’ve noticed you’ve lost weight?”

-I would say “Oh i’m totally great! I don’t think i’ve lost weight?”-

“You look great! Have you lost weight?”

-I would reply with “Oh thank you! Maybe a little, I’ve been eating healthier lately so maybe that made my skin clearer and me a little slimmer that’s all.” and the always “Not that i know of but thank you so much! May be it’s my new [clothing item], I think it flatters me!”-

“Are you sick?”

-I would say “No, I wouldn’t be at this gathering would i?” say it in a laughing tone not rude.-

“Jeez you’re a stick”/“Oh my god you’re so skinny!”

-I think you could just roll your eyes at “Jeez you’re a stick” and say “What?” at the second one.-

“Do you have an Eating Disorder?”

-This is very risky! I would only make an excuse if you are just not ready to get help yet. Please receive help if you can! but my excuse would be “What’s that, never heard of it?” and if they explain just say “Wow thats really weird i wonder why people would act like that?!”-

“Eat.”

-Classic “I already ate.”, “No thanks maybe in a bit!” and lastly “I had a big [meal before].”-

🦷 𝙃𝙔𝙂𝙀𝙉𝙀 🧼

Here are some eating disorder hygiene issues that and i will provide ways to prevent or deal with these.

•Lack of bodily functions (urination and excretion/defecation) ✨:YES I KNOW DISGUSTANG!!! as you should know under eating and drinking (which sometimes people under drink during eating disorders?) will have the effect of lack of these practices. i don’t think there are any healthy ways to prevent this if you are restricting and i DO NOT promote laxatives they can kill you! although i would deal with this simply by just not caring and maybe eating fruit which can help lol sorry i understand this is disgusting.

•Dental Hygiene ✨: as some people know the act of purging is common which can effect your dental hygiene and can even rot your teeth. i do not promote purging (or any other disordered eating acts BUT ESPECIALLY NOT PURGING!)! it is going to hurt you physically and mentally so if anything maximum restrict. but as we know you can’t just fix it by saying that so here are some tips to prevent teeth rot from purging~ {1. Don’t brush your teeth right after! this dissolves the enamel even more! 2. Floss and rinse mouth with water/mouthwash straight after 3. if you can, chew and spit an anti-acid} also anorexia can weaken bones and as we know teeth are bones so i just advise to brush your teeth every morning and night! 🦷✨

•Body Hair ✨: I understand this is also gross too but people who don’t care enough i want you to at least have good hygiene so if you starve enough to get lanugo (excess hair growth caused by cold temperatures due to starvation). You can keep these hairs or remove them i would advise to shave so you can appear nice but if you don’t care and would like to stay warm keep the hair!

🦴 𝙇𝙊𝙊𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙎𝙋𝙊 💞

This is something i find very sad because it’s very exclusive. so many POC are struggling with this evil illness are rarely seen in thinspo and if so they usually aren’t just modeling by themselves but with another pale person. I suggest that if you have a certain amazing attributes to you and your body look for thin people that are like you, and also the lack of curly hair in the industry is disappointing as well. I’d also just like to say most models are white, with blonde or brown hair and blue eyes but that literally is so exclusive so please just somebody find a diverse page. I’ll be posting some if i can find any! 🌎💞

When i find more things to write about i’ll add more xx 💖

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fromthemouthofkings · 4 years

Text

10 Favorite Characters

Thank you @wisteria-lodge for tagging me!!

1. Grand Admiral Thrawn (the Thrawn trilogy by Timothy Zahn)

I stan 1 (one) blue alien Sherlock Holmes

[image description: the cover of The Last Command by Timothy Zahn, showing Thrawn as a blue-skinned humanoid with blue-black hair and glowing red eyes, wearing a white Imperial uniform. end id]

So I’m specifically talking about the book character here; I have no idea what’s going on in the Star Wars TV shows. But Thrawn of the Star Wars Legends universe (and the newer canon book, Thrawn) is hands-down one of the best and most interesting characters I’ve ever seen. He’s brilliant, creating battle strategies by studying his opponents’ cultural art to understand their cultural psychology and look for weaknesses in their thinking. And despite being a morally grey character, he’s not unduly arrogant and is actually extremely likeable--he has to work hard to get into the Imperial command structure that heavily discriminates against non-humans, his motivation is the best interest of his people, the Chiss, and he is always willing to explain his thinking to his close allies and friends. And who else would respond to being stabbed by smiling and saying, “But it was so artistically done?”

2. Beren (specifically, from Philosopher-At-Large’s script/screenplay adaptation of Tolkien’s story of Beren and Luthien, A Boy, A Girl, & A Dog: The Lay of Leithian Dramatic Script Project, which can be read in full here: https://rustbucket.net/leithian/index.html)

Do we not all want to yell at the gods about theodicy until they answer our questions to our satisfaction? I specifically pick Beren not from the original Silmarillion, as much as I love Tolkien’s work, but from Philosopher-At-Large’s script retelling, because A Boy, A Girl, & A Dog might just be my favorite work of literature of all time--fanwork, original fiction, or otherwise. I stumbled across it via a fanart of Beren on DeviantArt, like, six or seven years ago that referenced it, and my life has never been the same. It was hard to pick a favorite character, since literally all of the Script’s characters hold a special place in my heart, but I love Beren’s gentle, dry humor and his grim, determined, reckless stubbornness. His relationship with Luthien is of course the driving point of the story, but I thought that his relationships with Finrod and the other members of their company, and his backstory in Dorthonian and his interactions with the Valar were spectacularly done as well. This story is full of the grim determination to at least try and keep loving people, to keep throwing yourself at a problem and refuse to back down until you find a satisfactory solution, and Beren is right there at the heart of that, and I think that makes him pretty hopepunk.

3. Hamlet (Hamlet by William Shakespeare)

What is there to say about Hamlet that hasn’t already been said a thousand times by people significantly more learned and eloquent than me? I love him. He’s a genre-savvy protagonist trapped in a world where nothing! Fucking! Makes! Sense! My poor emo boy. I feel so much for him, being trapped in a situation where he needs to learn the truth in order to move forward and finally act, but there’s no way for him to get at the truth, so instead he just spirals further and further into fey, frustrated, erratic “madness.” Such a disaster bi. Definitely in love with his tired functional gay bf Horatio. Drama queen and Pretentious Asshole TM. In any decent modern au, he loves Hot Topic and gets all his clothes from there. I don’t even really do theater, but I’d love to have a chance to play him onstage.

4. James Dunworthy (the Oxford Time Travel series by Connie Willis)

The Oxford Time Travel series by Connie Willis ranges from hilarious (To Say Nothing of the Dog) to heartbreaking (Doomsday Book) and Mr. Dunworthy is right in the middle of all of it. For those who haven’t read it, the premise of the series is that time travel has been discovered, but we can’t use it to change the past, so instead it’s mainly just used by historians going back in time to study history, and Mr. Dunworthy is the head of the history department at Oxford University in the year 2060. He might be strict, but he has strong dad vibes, and, just, cares so much for all of his historians. He basically adopts Colin when Colin is stranded in Oxford over Christmas during an epidemic, he regularly puts himself in danger to look for lost historians, he helped invent time travel, and he knows that the point of studying the past is caring about the people who lived there. I want him to be my dad.

5. The 9th Doctor (Doctor Who)

Okay, I love 10 and 12 and 13 almost as much as I love 9, but 9 has to be my favorite Doctor. He was my first doctor, and what really got me hooked on the series was his kindness--hard-won and hard-clung to after the trauma of the time war. It isn’t always easy for him--the time war took everything away from him, and you can see how he’s tempted to be angry and bitter and harsh--but even so, he insists on helping people, on atoning for his mistakes, on nonviolence and using kindness and cleverness to fix things instead of violence and hate. He says, guns are bad and bananas are good, and every person is important, and when asked if he’s a coward or a killer, he says, “Coward. Any day.” And that philosophy, that choice, has left a deep impact on me.

[image description: gif of the 9th doctor saying “Who said you’re not important?” from New Who Season 1 episode 8, “Father’s Day.” end id]

6. Eliot Spencer (Leverage)

The whole premise of a group of thieves, criminals and con artists getting together to take down corrupt people in power is great, and Eliot is my favorite. He may have done some seriously bad shit in the past, but now he’s just devoted to taking care of the team, and particularly his hacker and his thief. I don’t know that he believes he’s worthy of their love, but he’s still somehow the most mature and emotionally stable member of the team; he knows how to control his anger and live alongside his regrets, and despite his grumbling, he dives headfirst into protecting the rest of the team and keeping them safe. Bonus points for being in an almost-canon ot3, and for the passion that he brings to his cooking. Also, I headcanon him as gray aro and transmasc, because I can.

[image description: gif of Eliot standing back-to-back with Parker and Hardison. end id]

7. Jon Sims (The Magnus Archives)

I’m only on season 3 of TMA so far, but I love Jon with all my heart. Working at a supernatural research institute, after having had a supernatural encounter of your own, and still choosing not to really believe in the supernatural until it knocks down the door to your office and riddles you with worms? Big mood. He’s a stubborn workaholic disaster ace, and I relate because I too struggle to interact with people and tend to get lost in obscure research projects for hours at a time. Somebody give this boy a hug and then a nap.

8. River Taam (Firefly)

Once again, there are a lot of good characters in Firefly, and I was hard-pressed to pick just one of them to put on this list. But River is a sweet summer child slowly overcoming trauma to find the joy and delight in the world around her that she had before the Academy, and I want all the best things for her. Bonus points go to Simon, who gave up everything he knew to save his sister, and Mal, who stubbornly sticks to his own code of honor even after loosing the war and much of his faith.

9. Lancelot (The Once and Future King by T. H. White)

A splendidly complex and morally grey take on our favorite legendary hero. T. H. White writes a Lancelot who struggles deeply with guilt and pride and imposter syndrome--who struggles desperately to do what is right and to channel the traits he finds in himself--both strengths and flaws--into doing the right thing. His scrupulosity is sadly relatable, and the lines “It is so fatally easy to make young children believe that they are horrible” and “ You could not give up a human heart as you could give up drinking. The drink was yours, and you could give it up: but your lover’s soul was not your own: it was not at your disposal; you had a duty towards it” are both absolutely haunting. It’s only implied in the book, but T. H. White admitted in letters that Lancelot enjoys pain, and is probably bi as well, and a bit in love with Arthur, and that he feels very guilty about it, and I just want a fluffy modern adaptation where Arthur and Guenevere and Lancelot can be in the kinky ployamarous triad that they deserve and just be happy together.

10. Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling)

While I have some problems these days with the Harry Potter series and the transphobia of its author, it’s possible to like something without minimizing its flaws, and this list would not be complete without Luna Lovegood. I spent significant portions of middle school pretending to be her. She taught me how to embrace my own unabashed weirdness, and I wouldn't be the same without her.

@a-nerdy-shade-of-purple @conan-concocting-chaos @one-supportive-august @the-lyra-cal-trans @the-eleftheria @dumpstertrash

#quinn speaks #thank you so much for the tag! I had a lot of fun doing this #my taste in characters is apparently Ravenclaws and Huffledors haha #thrawn #beren #hamlet #dunworthy #9th doctor #eliot spencer #jon sims #river taam #lancelot #luna lovegood

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wolvesofinnistrad · 5 years

Note

Hey pls can you do a canon for the first time Callum gives Ben a BJ!!!

Ok, technically I think this already happened during the park hookup so I'll kind of split the difference..

That first night at the park Callum is wild.

His hands are everywhere, his mouth stays latched to Ben’s unless the other man pulls away.

He can’t get enough of him, intoxicated, lost in the moment of giving in.

There’s a hunger there, deep and yearning that he didn’t realize was this strong because of how long he’d denied himself but the moment he gave in just a little it came crashing down.

That’s why he was already undoing Ben’s belt buckle, not because he had a plan, but because he just needed every part of Ben right now.

There’s a thunk against his back and he realizes that he’s been pushed up against a tree.

H’s got his hand wrapped around Ben in his pants and Ben’s been storking him over his own, but suddenly Ben pulls away.

Callum whines but then Ben is dropping to his knees with a glint in his eye and Callum almost loses it right then.

Ben sucks the life out of him through his cock and its the closest thing to a religious experience Callum’s ever had.

His fingers are still locked in Ben’s hair when he finally starts to come down from orgasm, panting and sweating.

But now it’s his turn, and he doesn’t know how to do this, not really, but the moment he regains his composure he’s turning them around, pushing Ben into the tree instead.

“You don’t have to.” Ben says, soft, a little unassuredly.

“I want to.” It’s all Callum can say before he’s leaning in, tasting Ben on his tongue.

Remember Callum was a virgin before Whitney and he’s never been with a dude so he’s got hardly any experience.

But he did just have cocksucker extraordinaire Ben go down on him, so he tries to replicate what he remembered happening to him.

The taste is new, salty, sweaty, but somehow still making his mouth water at just the idea of what he’s doing.

He can’t think too much or he might chicken out so he just goes with it, sucking and bobbing inarticulately in a pale imitation of Ben.

Objectively Ben knows this isn’t a good blowjob but... There’s something about it, Callum’s eagerness, the tension between them, that’s making him lose his mind over it anyway.

“Cal, fuck,” Ben moans, thrusting his hips up.

That catches him off guard and he gags, having to pull off to catch his breath.

“Sorry...” Ben breathes, forgetting for a moment who he was with, not just some random hook up, but Callum.

“S’okay,” Callum whispers, voice already sore and raw before he goes back down.

This time he takes his hands and presses Ben’s hips to the tree, pinioning him as his mouth works up and down Ben’s cock, taking as much as he can handle.

The little hint of control Callum exerts gets Ben going and he groans, fingers in Callum’s hair.

He wants to grab him, hold him down on his cock or guide him up and down but he can’t, so he just stays like that enjoying what Callum gives.

Callum remember how good it felt when Ben was teasing his head so he pulls back, trying to work the head of Ben’s cock now that his foreskin has retracted some.

He can taste his precum now and its so weird to know what that tastes like now, but he’s focusing on his task.

It’s sloppy and messy, but Ben begins to openly whimper and his fingers clutch harder at Callum’s hair so he knows he must be doing something right.

He can hear Ben’s breathing picking up and he starts going faster, just bobbing on Ben’s cock up and down, back and forth.

“Cal! Callum I’m gonna....”

Callum hears but he keeps going, he wants to do what Ben did for him, take him all the way there.

Of course Callum doesn’t know how to swallow as Ben cums so he kind of just holds all that cum in his mouth with an awkward face.

FInally Ben looks down, eyes soft and crinkling at the edges and laughs.

“You can spit it out.”

Callum does, thankful, but before he can do anything else Ben is dragging him bakc up for another heated kiss, and he can taste their combined releases on their tongues as they mingle.

Callum doesn’t want it to stop.

Callum’s first time sucking Ben’s cock after admitting he’s gay.

By now they’ve already had sex a few times.

Ben has blown Callum a lot, and they’ve done anal, frotting, handjobs.

But Callum hasn’t blown Ben again, not yet anyway.

It’s not like he’s avoiding it, it just hasn’t come up.

One day though he decides enough is enough.

They’re on the bed, watching a movie on Ben’s laptop as Callum starts kissing at his ear, his neck.

Ben chuckles, fingers caressing Callum’s face, but still watching the movie.

Callum puts a hand on Ben’s chest, rubbing for a moment before sliding down down down to cup his bulge.

“Callum...” It’s a little whispered moan from Ben and his eye are shutting and Callum knows what he wants today.

He’s working this one spot on Ben’s neck that makes the man mewl as he unzips him and fishes out his cock.

Callum raises his hand to his mouth and spits in his pam before going back, using it as a little lube to ease things as he strokes Ben to full hardness.

“That’s so... BLoody hot,” Ben moans. He kicks his laptop shut, movie forgotten now.

Callum is experienced with Ben’s dick now, he knows what Ben likes, for the most part, how it feels in his hand, the heft and weight of it, but he wants to know more.

He straddles Ben’s thighs, ripping open the buttons on Ben’s shirt before kissing over his chest.

Ben’s breath is coming in stutters as Callum finds a nipple and latches onto it, sucking and biting like Ben has done to him, all the while still slowly stroking his cock.

Ben normally considers himself a powerbottom, but he has to admit that when Callum takes control he kind of loses it. There’s something about that man who’s so soft and docile normally taking charge that riles Ben like nothing else.

“Fuck me... Fuck,” Ben pleads, fingers in Callum’s hair.

Callum just leans in and kisses Ben, effectively shushing him before working on the opposite nipple.

He loves hearing Ben moan, watching his body react beneath his fingers.

Ben’s poor cock is weeping already, every stroke making more precum gush from his slit.

Slowly Callum crawls backwards down the bed, hooking his fingers in Ben’s pants and pulling them down and off.

Ben thinks hes about to get fucked, which he’s so ready for, but then Callum grips the base of his shaft and starts licking at the head and he groans in pleasure.

Callum is still not sure how this works in practice, even if Ben’s done it a lot to him and he’s done it once to Ben.

He wants to be good though, to make Ben feel good, to learn how to pleasure him the way Ben does him.

Long, slow licks up and down the shaft, from root to tip, kisses, he tries everyhting he can think of.

He hum as he wraps his lips around Ben’s cock, taking him down as much as he can.

Cal tries to speed up, but after a few moments he gags again and has to pull off.

That’s when he sees Ben’s got his fingers curled in the bedsheets so hard it looks like he might rip them and he remembers how Ben had his fingers in his hair the entire time before.

This gives him and idea and he reaches for Ben’s hands, gently unlocking them before guiding them to his head.

“What?”

“Show me. Teach me,” Callum says, looking up at Ben with earnest enthusiasm.

Ben’s never been more turned on in his entire fucking life than watching Callum Highway stare up at him and ask to be taught how to suck cock.

Ben nods, one hand in Callum’s hair. He gently presses cAllum down, not too much pressure, just enough to guide him.

Callum takes Ben’s head in his mouth, licking and sucking..

Ben shivers and moans, fingers gripping tighter as he pulls Callum up, then presses back down again, showing him the rhythm he likes.

“If you can’t, can’t take it all you, fuck, you use your hand to work the rest,” Ben says, biting his lip as he takes Callum’s hand and puts it on his cock.

Once Callum is stroking him while his mouth works the rest Ben isn’t sure how much longer he can last.

“IN time you can t-take more, fuck, but for now this is good toooo~”

It’s hard to focus on instructing when Callum’s getting better by the minute which means Ben can’t think straight.

“You can work the balls too, lick, suck, fondle...”

Callum pulls off to do that, but returns his mouth to sucking on the tip while his hands work the shaft and Ben’s balls.

Ben actually can’t take much more.

He starts guiding Callum to bob up and down again, getting faster and faster, but still mindful of not gagging Callum.

Callum loves it, loves the way Ben is moaning wantonly, loves knowing that Ben is showing him what he likes, giving him the gift of that knowledge so he can use ti to make his boyfriend feel just as good.

And he plans on getting good enough that he can wreck Ben with just a few sucks like Ben can do to him.

He’s massaging Ben’s balls which he can feel getting tight and drawing up, twisting his wrist to jerk Ben off faster.

Ben keeps guiding his head and Callum uses hsi tongue to stimulate the underside of Ben’s cock as much as he can as his lips glide over the glans repeatedly.

“Cal!” is all Ben shouts before he’s cumming down CAllum’s throat.

This time Callum is more prepared, and while he can’t exactly swallow it all, some leaks out the sides of his mouth, eventually he does manage to swallow down the rest.

When he pulls away theres a string of saliva and cum connecting his lips to Ben’s cock and Ben has to take a mental picture of the literal hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Callum leans bakc down, sucking on the head, clenaing it off and giving him a few more strokes until he hears Ben hiss.

Ben’s breathing is ragged, he looks fucked out like they just had mindblowing sex, and he guesses they did.

“God help me once you can do that on your own, Ill be dead,” Ben says, resting against the headboard, out of breath.

Callum smirks, moving up to lay on hos boyfriend and kiss him stupid.

“I can, I can return the favor just, gimme a minute. Kinda sucked out my soul there like a fucking dementor.”

Callum laughs and kisses his idiot nerd boyfriend again.

“DOn’t have to. I don’t always return it, sometime it can just be one of us wanting to take care of the other, yeah?”

Ben’s eyes get a bit glossy at that, he’s used to giving and not receiving in return, but not used to getting and not returning.

With Callum though, it feels okay, like someone wants ot make him feel good and that’s all that matter.

“Alright.”

“Good, so, was I doing a good job?” Callum asks, nervous still.

“I said you drained me, best blowjob you’ve ever gave, and definitely top 5 all around. With some practice you’ll take every spot soon enough for fucks sake,” Ben laughs, and Callum does too, both of them trading lazy kisses as the afternoon wears on around them.

#ben mitchell #callum highway #ballum #my fic #headcanons #mine #benway

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thequeenb · 4 years

Text

Destiny (part 2)

Pairings: KamilahxMC

A request from @lightning-fury

Amy smiled widely "What about we start a Clan?" the two women looked at each other surprised "ar- are you sure we know you are busy and-" "oh nonsense, imagine the potential" she looked at Cal her bodyguard. "How about we do something unique..i will give a home but not only to you..to werewolves..to witches to supernatural creatures to feel safe" Cal smiled the two women took in the words "that would be amazing".

Amy the past month gave home and a brand to about 300 vamprires, 200 werewolves 100 witches and wizards and her clan only expanded. Her reputation as a power CEO brought her admiration from all of them.

It was late at night when Amy was in her office working. She suddenly became like someone familiar, always working, being cold. She looked at her Rolex diamond watch, it was midnight. Before she could get up from her chair she felt dizzy.

Embrace the power..you aren't weak, dont deny your powers.

And when she opened her eyes she screamed in fear. "Cal!!". Within seconds Cal ran inside and gasped. Amy was actually floating "Miss Parker ho--" but then she fell unconscious to his arms as he caught her.

When she opened her eyes she felt her head heavy, Cal on her side. "Drink some water Miss" he said as he gave her a glass that she happily accepted. "What happened..how i.." it was all to confusing for her, but there is only one explanation. Her Bloodkeeper powers.

"Cal i would like to stay alone" he didn't need another word to leave. What the hell is happening to me. She wished she could talk to Adrian, he always did research, he always knew what to say. She signed before she laid back on her bed, hoping it was a nightmare.

The next morning she was a whole better than yesterday. She walked to the kitchen tiredly, her nightmares kept her awake. She always saw weird dreams, a woman's voice talking to her, asking her to embrace her blood.

She quickly dismissed the thoughts and grabbed the chair. But when she looked down it was torn in half. "WHAT THE HELL??!!"

That was the last straw for her. She needed answers but didn't knew where to find them. She was scared to touch anything or suddenly find herself through the air. She hurried to her training room locking the door.

Okay Amy relax..deep breaths..deep breaths.

She couldn't relax. Something was happening to her and she didn't knew what it was.

You hold much more that just memories.. embrace it!!

That voice again echoed in her mind. She felt hypnotized, like someone else guide her. She made her hand into a fist and punched the wall hard. When she opened her eyes the wall was broken. Oh..my.. relax Amy..oh my god i have powers..

She repeated it out loud many times i have powers..i have powers

But then a wide smile that reached her eyes appeared on her face "I have powers".

The next couple of weeks passed with Amy training everyday almost all day. She embraced her powers completely trusting the voice inside her. She could run like a vamprire, have the strength of a vamprire, float like Vlad and so much more she didn't discover yet.

It was amazing, almost a miracle but she didn't questioned it, she loved power. She wasn't helpless anymore she was a leader, a powerful one.

She called a meeting with all her Clan members to announce a plan she had been working on for months.

Everyone was confused on why the meeting is happening. Whispering and conversations could be heard through the room but everything stopped when Amy stepped inside.

"My precious army" she started as her high heel's clicks sounded deadly. "You are here today to hear the best news, we aren't weak we are strong. Stronger than any other Clan but you know we aren't completely approved yet" a few whispers grew in the room "Silence! Tomorrow night i have a meeting with the USA government, my plan goes fantastically" she smiled widely and everyone felt comfort "You might wonder what my plan is" she paused as she walked closer to one of the members "Do you wonder what my plan is?" She asked him casually stroking her cheek "Y-yes Miss" he said with a shaky voice feeling her power running through her veins, he was indeed scared. Before he could react her dagger went straight through his chest becoming ashes. Everyone gasped "No one should doubt me!!" her angry voice echoed into the empty room "Dont have the same fate as him" she said before leaving.

Amy was a scary leader, she leaded with fear and terror. The meeting was tonight, her only problem? It was in New York. The place she never wanted to come back to. She watched the city through her limousine window in disgust, memories running through her mind.

Not long after they passed through Ahmanet Financial and Amy chuckled "i am coming to get you soon" she said smiling knowing Kamilah was in there working endlessly.

She arrived in the building they agreed to meet. Tonight she was wearing a beautiful black dress with Gucci boots and a LV handbag. She looked professional and elegant as ever.

A woman led her to a conference room where 2 men and a woman were already sitting. "Hello Miss Parker, i am happy you came to meet us" the man said smiling "the pleasure is all mine" she said with an evil grin. "I am Mark Johnson i am responsible for the US army" a tall old man said "I am Cecilia Bennett Secretary of Defense" the woman said crossing her arms "And you know me i am sure" a handsome man in his late thirties said smiling "John Pembrooke the president of US" Amy shook his hand stunned. Never in her life she could imagine having a meeting with the most important people of the government. "We took your request into consideration but we are afraid that its impossible" Cecilia said with a look of annoyance. Amy always had an ace up her sleeve "Are you familiar with the Feral problem?" Amy started saying and everyone looked at each other "Do you see any changes? After Adam Vega's death nothing changed with all due respect but the Council isnt doing enough" she proudly sat back into her chair taking in the sight of 3 confused people who are considering. "And it will change if you are added as one of the Clans?" John said crossing his arms "Why yes i am very serious at what i do i think i proved that" she said as she waited patiently. The three of them whispered taking in the advantages and disadvantages of that action. "After reconsidering we approve to make you as the 7th Clan on the Council" John said shaking Amy's hand who smiled victoriously.

The announcement didn't took long to arrive into the council's ears. An emergency meeting was held in Adrian's office. Kamilah was furious pacing around the room "A powerful Clan is added to the council? Thats absurd!!" Adrian signed there wasn't much he could do "i hope whoever that is to be yummy" Priya said licking her lips. "Is this one of your tricks?" The Baron said angrily looking at Adrian "Does it look like it??". Everyone were lost in thought before Lester broke the silence "It was a matter of time until they replace Adam's spot" everyone looked at him confused "Thats probably the smartest thing you ever said" Priya said laughing. "A council meeting will be held next week here so we will see who we are dealing with" Kamilah said with a scary voice.

Days had passed and Kamilah couldn't calm until she find every bit of information about the mysterious Clan leader. Karen knocked on the door interrupting her thoughts "I am sorry to interrupt but Lily is here as you requested"

Lily walked through the office amazed "Wow cool place Kam!" Kamilah rolled her eyes "dont touch anything and if you call me like that again i will cut your tongue" Lily nodded sitting on a leather chair curiously "So why did you want to see me?"

"How is Amy hm?" Kamilah said struggling to say her name out loud after all this time. "Um.. Look i dont want to--" but Kamilah stood up angrily "I said how's Amy?" Lily swallowed hard thinking what should she say " She is fine. Working. In LA" Kamilah looked at her with her red eyes "You lie".

Defeated Lily signed "She is in New York ok? Not for long" and with that she gained a satisfied grin from Kamilah.

The moulin rouge Kamilah thought looking through the papers her assistant gave her. She asked Karen to gather information about the new Clan and she happily found out that the Leader owns a club in New York. "Karen clean my schedule" she said to her assistant planning on giving a little visit.

When she arrived at the destination she saw a big line of people begging to get in. Of course she got in within seconds. She was Kamilah Sayeed after all.

What she didn't knew was that Amy was the owner, even better Amy was there.

As she walked in the loud music played like a drum on her chest. She looked around unimpressed and walked to the bar. The barwoman had wings? What was happening?

"Excuse me isnt it here the Moulin rouge?" Kamilah asked her thinking she found the wrong place. "Yea it is" the woman replied "Should i get you a drink?" Kamilah nodded "One whiskey and make it strong"

Amy was dancing gracefully swinging through the beat when she spotted a familiar silhouette.

Oh this will be interesting. She thought walking towards her.

Kamilah was lost in thought when a familiar figure appeared Infront of her. She was wearing a short gold dress that anyone could see her chest in, black high heels and diamonds all around her. The expensive perfume filled her nose and her eyes drank the sight of her ex lover being so close to her after so long.

"Kamilah? What a surprise" Amy said sipping her Martini. Kamilah didn't respond she was just staring at her lost "What? A cat took your tongue?" Amy said laughing sarcastically. "Okay then i have more important thi--"

"Amy" Kamilah said as her breath caught in her throat. "I give you one minute because i am kind" Amy responded admiring her new nails looking uninterested. Kamilah wanted to scare her off again, she wanted to break her enough to never return back. "What a mewling mortal do to such a cliché club?" There we go again with the mewling mortal thing, little does she know she isnt exactly mortal "I see some habits didn't change Kami, but guess what i did" Amy said before leaving.

Kamilah wanted to order another drink when she noticed everyone gathered around into a circle. Curiously she followed the crowd a man on the middle.

"As you know my fellow members we are reckless, strong, unbeatable and we honour our master with this fight" the crowd cheered loudly, Kamilah scoffed.

"For the new ones here, whoever is brave enough challenge one of us to fight, the winner decides what the loser has to do, but careful" he said as fire hovered over his palm "death is required, and magic is involved" the crowd cheered more and more "who will be our lucky champion?" he said looking around. Kamilah stepped forward crossing her arms "I will"

"Oh that will be interesting, and who will be your prey" Kamilah smiled looking at Amy on the other side of the circle. "You" she said pointing at her. The crowd gasped but Amy stepped forward chuckling "if i win, which i will you will leave New York and never come back" Kamilah said smiling. Amy laughed "and if i win you will move in with me, be my roommate"

Kamilah tried to hide her laugh "Oh sweet human thing i accept your defeat" the man stepped between them "Are you ready? And go!"

Kamilah didn't believe this was happening, her against Amy? Never in a million years she thought about it. If Adrian knew he would be furious, she thought but her thoughts were gone when Amy led her to the empty street. The crowd gathered around cheering.

"We dont have to do this, you can go and never come back" Kamilah said proudly but her pride was erased when Amy pushed her hard against the wall with a simple move "What the--" but before she could react Amy had daggers out ready to fight. Kamilah broke free looking at Amy lost "I dont understand..how??" But Amy just chuckled and in a blink of an eye pinned Kamilah to the ground. She couldn't move even if she tried. The cheers around them became a blur as they gazed into each other's eyes. Amy's danger was hovering over Kamilah's chest "I guess i won" she said but Kamilah pushed her hard. Amy landed near and run furiously to Kamilah's direction. Her dangers made a satisfying wound into Kamilah's stomach. Kamilah watched herself bleed and Amy smiling. How is this happening? But Amy was quick to dodge every attack Kamilah attempted. "Is that all you got?" Amy laughed victoriously watching the vamprire struggle. Stubborn as ever she tried to attack one last time. Amy with one move had blue fire hovering over her palm that made Kamilah stop. "You have powers like.." Amy smiled "the strongest vamprires" she finished her sentence sending Kamilah in a near by wall making it clear who won.

The cheers became louder and louder. Kamilah wanted to flee but she felt trapped into her own body. Stupid agreement she thought cursing herself. She didn't knew what Amy hide within her but for the first time she felt scared.

Before she could think further Amy was standing before her smiling "who is weak now?", before Kamilah could respond her hand hovered over her temples.

"What are you--" but before she could finish her sentence she felt dizzy. "You wont remember this night's events" was the last thing she heard before passing out.

Tag list: @galaxyside-0 @scarlet-letter-a0114 @la-guera-69 @idkbutkamilah @ilovetaylor13m

#bb kamilah #kamilah is my queen #kamilah sayeed #choices kamilah #kamilah x mc #bloodbound #play choices #pb choices #choices you play #choices #choices fanfiction #choices fandom #choices fic #bloodbound kamilah #Kamilah x mc #bloodbound fandom #bb fanfic

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bigskydreaming · 4 years

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Okay, I knew Alistair the Dream-Keeper wasn’t the first time I’d written the idea of magically weaponized dreams, so I went hunting through old email accounts and found a whole fucking manuscript I wrote like, twelve years ago and totally forgot about. WHOOPS. (This happens with me more often than you’d think actually possible). I’m only a third of the way through my re-read of it, but it holds up surprisingly well IMO, I’m pretty pleased. I can actually do something with this, I think.

Course, it was apparently written back during my whole “every thing must be hetero otherwise there will be no publishing” period, before the beginning of my personal Age of LOL Nah, Fuck That, Everything Must Be Gay. So, first things first, Jez definitely needs a girlfriend, and also a different name. I can’t believe I named her Jez, like, wow, I was really trying to get YA Bingo, wasn’t I? In my defense, this was when I was twenty-three. Also, this first chapter here has a character named Scott and this was before Teen Wolf even premiered, so apparently I just like the name Scott? Huh. Did not know.

BURNING DAYLIGHT

Jez O’Neill knows she has three years, two months, and sixteen days to live.

She’s had visions for as long as she can remember. She knows they’re never wrong. And when the boy her visions say will someday kill her comes into her life, she knows to stay far away.

But somehow he gets close anyways. Because Nathan is perfect. He’s handsome, he’s charming, he’s utterly, unbearably sweet. And when he learns of Jez’s visions, he promises to cheat Death for her. An interest in New Age turns into an obsession with the occult, and that leads to tiny cracks in the walls of the world, where strange and untrustworthy spirits wait to barter with anyone desperate enough to try.

Magic, however, always comes with a price. The higher the reward you seek, the more you can expect to pay, and the spell Nathan thinks will change their destiny instead puts them on a collision course with Fate. It changes him, twists him in mind and soul, transforming the boy Jez loves into the madman who will someday take her life.

With only three years left until the day she now knows she can’t avoid, Jez discovers she and Nathan share the same zipcode again as he sows death and destruction in the streets of LA. But rather than flee for another city, Jez pits herself against the monster she once loved, the monster she helped create, determined to make sure no one else gets caught in the crossfire of their attempt to cheat their fates.

Call it redemption if you want. Jez calls it Tuesday.

Chapter 1

Dreams are doorways if you have the right key.

That’s why I’ve wasted a perfectly good Sunday night perched on the edge of Scott Kinley’s desk. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and I’m sure I look like a gargoyle in the pitch dark of the two o’clock hour, but every chair in his bedroom is covered in dirty teenage boy laundry. I’ll stick with my perch, thanks.

I kick my legs out and arch my spine, stretching my arms over my head with fingers laced together. Cramped and aching muscles voice their protest. Something cracks in my neck when I roll my head back. Meanwhile, Scott Kinley snores contentedly in his sleep in the bed across the room. I shoot him a glare that’s best described as withering.

Spears of pale moonlight slip through the slatted blinds covering the window above his bed. They stab the length of his body, highlighting a strong jawline and tousled blond hair, not to mention a chest and set of abs that frankly, I just find obnoxious on a fellow teenager. It’s L.A. in early September – code for unbearably hot – and he’s sleeping with the bare minimum of sheets, a loose span of cotton that’s only covering him up to his waist. I’d enjoy the cheap thrill more if it didn’t make me feel like such a perv.

After all, I’m a total stranger who broke into his house and has spent the last four hours going through his things and watching him sleep. It’s kinda hard to feel good about that. In my defense, I’m only here to save his life from a creepy magical serial killer. Course, I have strong doubts that would hold up in a court of law should he wake up and have me arrested for breaking and entering. But I still feel it’s worth mentioning.

A yawn and a glance at his alarm clock confirm that it’s 2:07 am and I have no life. I lean back on the desk and rifle through his homework some more as I go back to invading his privacy. My only defense here is I’m really bored.

His handwriting’s slightly more legible than your average garden-variety chicken scratch, but I’m still not one hundred percent his name’s Scott Kinley. The Scott part is clear, but the ‘I’ in what I think is Kinley could be a really jacked up ‘o’ I guess. Whatever. It’s a pre-calculus assignment, and the last yearbook on his bookshelf is from his sophomore year, so I’m guessing he’s a junior like me. Or like I would be, if I still bothered going to school. Hmm. Eleventh grade and already in precalc? Someone’s a smarty-pants. Interesting.

A row of trophies and a couple of team photos declare him a water polo jock, and not too shabby of one according to this MVP title. Explains the abs. I roll my eyes around the rest of the room. Small TV so old it has a VCR player built into it. An even older Sega Genesis console is hooked up to it, so either Scott’s big on nostalgia or his family’s not big on luxuries. There’s a couple of movie posters tacked to the wall, but the puddle of light leaking across the floor doesn’t reach far enough for me to make out any details. Then a freestanding bookcase, a good five shelves high, filled with actual books. Above it is a college pennant with a bear on it – I think that’s Cal Berkeley, right? Possible destination, I’m guessing….

God. And he was in bed by ten. Smart, good-looking, athletic and ambitious. Did his parents just win the baby lottery, or if I go down the hall will I find the altar they used to bargain with the Devil?

Not that it matters. I stretch my legs out again and dip my toes into the pool of moonbeams, watching them spill across my feet when I wiggle. It’s only been six months since my last boyfriend went all dark side on me and turned into a spell-wielding slaughterhouse. I’m kind of not dating right now.

So it’s only natural my visions would lead me to the most eligible teen bachelor in Los Angeles – I cast another quick look around the desk for the requisite ‘me and my girlfriend’ photo – nope, most eligible teen bachelor in Los Angeles. Ugh. It’s like announcing your diet and inheriting a pastry shop the next day. I feel a sudden urge to grab one of his dirty shirts off the floor just to make sure his one human flaw is real and not an illusion.

Wow. I can’t believe I just thought that. Apparently sleep deprivation makes me weird. Besides, there’s no way that smell could be imaginary.

I throw another withering glare in Scott’s direction. It’s his fault I’m a weird, sleep-deprived pervert in his stinky bedroom. My baleful stare bakes the air above his bed. It bends and twists like a summer heat wave on asphalt. Wait. That’s not right.

I shake my head, peering through the fog that shrouds my tired mind. Somewhere in my snooping I failed to notice Scott’s happy snores had turned into frantic whimpers. He’s writhing on his bed; sweat beads all over his restless body, glistening like fragile pearls in the faint light. The room is abruptly a sauna. Heat climbs the walls and steam mists the glass of the picture frames.

“Shit,” I whisper, and I’m in motion, leaping off the desk into a crouch. I dip my hand into my hoodie and whip out my knife, steel slicing moonbeams to ribbons as the blade springs free. A low keening shreds the silence, hoarse spectral shouts as faces flicker through the knife, reflected in the steel. I cross the room in three steps. Scott cries out. His fingers scratch at the air like crooked claws.

Somewhere a door opens, and something steps through. Between the space of one second and the next, a heavy silhouette takes shape on this side of the dream.

I slam into the figure with all my weight, blade aimed for the midsection where I’m hoping vital organs will be. The knife sinks in too easily. The sandman-born beastie is still in that transitive state where its dream wrought form has yet to shift all the way down the spectrum to vulnerable flesh. Then my knife catches and scrapes against bone. The nightmare screams as it sinks its roots into our reality and feels pain for the first time.

It’s tougher to pull the blade free, but I’m stronger than any normal seventeen year old girl has a right to be. More specifically, as long as I’m wielding that knife I’m as strong as all the monsters it’s killed combined. And I’ve racked up a decent body count. Blood and bile sprays in slow motion, a cresting wave of black tar. A few drops land on my arm. There’s a hissing sound and I feel like I’m on fire. I grit my teeth and swing again. It dodges and I miss. We both regroup, and I get my first good look at it.

Damn. Mr. Perfect Teen USA has one hell of a fucked up subconscious. I’m just saying.

The nightmare swallows what dim light comes near it, refusing to be illuminated. It’s thick, ridged with protrusions of bone and slick scales that shimmer with their own dark radiance. A trunk-like torso gives way to stocky legs. At certain angles they seem to merge into a single column similar to a snake. It has four arms, except for when it has six – and then two and then twelve and then they’re not arms at all, but tentacles. The head is a gaping chasm of teeth and forked tongue surrounded by a lion’s mane of mottled skin. It’s dizzying and hard to look at. Confusing and chaotic. The only constant is its ugliness.

I charge at it, because I’m just that dumb. Hey, only the good die young.

It dips to the side, cobra-quick, and its tail snaps out like the crack of a whip. I take the hit square in my ribs and I’m lifted off my feet, flying back across the room. My breath flees from my lungs, my head slams back into a wall. I bite my tongue and taste copper.

“Rude,” I gasp.

Scrambling up to snatch my knife from where I dropped it mid-flight, I steal strength from its macabre magic. Even still, regaining my feet takes effort and time I don’t have to spare. The nightmare’s turned its attention back to Scott. He’s finally awake and sitting up his bed. Pale, frightened, and totally out of his league. Considering we were dealing with his worst nightmare in every literal sense of the word, I cut him some slack. I’m a good person.

I roll forward and rake my cursed blade along the creature’s side on my way. It rears and screams again. Dimly I hear footsteps and distant shouting.

“What the hell is that thing?” Scott asks, eyes locked on the beastie like a man entranced. Oh good, he can talk. I was starting to wonder. I duck around the nightmare and stick myself in between it and him.

“Don’t ask me. It’s your childhood trauma,” I say, hefting my knife and gauging distance. “Now shut up, don’t die, and for god’s sake put on some pants.”

I lunge and bury my knife in the thing’s throat. I’m liking my odds less and less when it still finds the strength to knock my grip loose and drop me on my ass. More blood drips down on me, igniting nerve endings everywhere it touches my skin. Let’s recap. I have spunk, pizzazz, seven spells and a cursed knife on my side. It has burning blood, a build like a freight train, and claws and fangs that seem to multiply every time I look at it. It leans forward and roars its hostility right in my face.

Also, it has halitosis.

A swipe of its many tentacle-arms knocks me back and to the side again. I land on the floor, staring up at the bookshelf. It’s tricky reading the titles from my upside-down vantage point, but I hazily make out the collected works of one H.P. Lovecraft. That explains a lot.

“You know, there are worse things in the world than being a cliché,” I complain, glowering over my shoulder at Scott. He has the decency to look ashamed, over where he’s huddled on the other side of the desk. Course, I’m sure he has no idea what he’s ashamed of, but my tone conveys the point rather well, I think. “Seriously. The dumb jock thing. Just give it a try.”

Mano a mano isn’t working out too well for me so I switch tactics. I toss a quick ‘Hail Mary’ skyward, kick off my shoes and chant the most powerful – and dangerous – of my seven spells. It’s a nasty little sucker I bartered for in the second sphere, the Circle of Fire. I rattle off short, harsh syllables that climb reluctantly from the base of my throat, guttural utterances that were never meant to be made by a human voice. I dip my fingers in moonlight and etch glowing hieroglyphics in the air – they hang there for a moment, sharply luminescent in the seconds before they fade to black.

Staccato snaps and pops ring out. The alarm clock short circuits. Streetlights flicker and die. Every electronic in a fifty meter radius develops a sudden terminal illness and the air feels flooded. Thick and heavy with static as thousands of wayward electrical impulses conduct themselves through the atmosphere to me. I dig my toes into the heavy carpet and feel the hair on my head stand on end. Then I’m running, my nervous system supercharged with too much speed and power to contain long. I duck past the nightmare’s swinging arms – it might as well be lumbering at tortoise speed – and plant a single palm flat on its back.

My touch hits it like a thunderbolt, lightning barreling down the synapses in my arm and ripping into it with hurricane fury. It squeals and goes airborne, crashing into the desk and reducing it to kindling. Scott falls back, mouth open, and smoke wisps up from the creature’s motionless body.

For a second, I dare to hope it’s dead. It would be really awesome for me if it were. That was my most powerful offensive spell and using it comes with a one in ten chance of killing the spellcaster. So, you know. I’d really like to not have to use it again, please.

The nightmare heaves itself to its feet-tail, sending spears of desk turned firewood flying about the room. Some of the shrapnel heads my way and I cover my eyes. Splinters gouge at my palms. I peek past my fingers, and in a blur of motion the creature crosses the room and throws itself through the window. It rips through the blinds and shards of glass fountain into the hot summer night. The darkness outside swallows it whole.

“I hate you,” I casually inform the universe.

I pick past debris and make for the window. Or what’s left of it anyways. The house is on a hill, high enough elevation that glass from the window is still showering to the ground below. Chiming, delicate drops of crystal rain. City lights gleam from one horizon to the next. A pitch-black shadow makes its way across distant rooftops, dark even against the darkness, like a spreading oil stain spilling towards the downtown metropolis. Lovely.

“What the hell is going on?” Scott finally finds his voice again, but I have no time to soothe his shattered nerves or offer an introductory course on Things That Go Bump in the Night 101. I run my hands through my frizzy, static-damaged hair.

“That was disgusting, you need therapy, and the pants thing was not a suggestion,” I inform him, bending to retrieve my knife. Scott flushes and grabs the sheet off the bed. He doesn’t even try and peek at my ass. A piece of the Scott Kinley puzzle clicks into place, and I feel a tiny bit better.

“Hey, quick question. Are you gay?”

His jaw drops, but he recovers fairly quickly. “What – how did you – I mean, why?”

I shrug. “No reason. Just won a bet with myself is all.”

Hey, it’s the little things in life. I turn back to the window and track the nightmare’s course. Picking a rooftop a few buildings ahead of it, I prick my thumb and whisper a spell from the seventh sphere, the Celestial Circle. I sketch bloody sigils in the moonbeams cascading through the open window. They turn pale and faint and I grab their remnants like door handles. The silver light parts, a gauzy curtain opening on a window to a distant rooftop far below.

I cast a sigh at the bewildered boy behind me and step through. It’s probably for the best. Like I said, I’m kinda not dating right now anyways.

The curtain falls shut behind me and I resume my hunt.

#Burning Daylight #kalen writes things sometimes

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clansayeed · 4 years

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Bound by Circumstance ― Chapter 13: What Was Given Can Be Taken Away

PAIRING: Nik Ryder x trans*M!MC (Taylor Hunter) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Circumstance ⥽

Taylor Hunter (MC) has made it good for himself in New Orleans; turns out moving to a new city fresh out of college to reinvent yourself isn’t as hard as people make it out to be. Things only start to get confusing when he finds himself the target of a malevolent wraith. Good thing someone’s looking out for him though — because without Nighthunter Nik Ryder as his bodyguard he definitely won’t survive long in the twisting darkness of the supernatural underworld he’s tripped into.

Bound by Circumstance and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the book Nightbound and the rest of the Bloodbound series. Find out more [HERE].

Note: Circumstance only loosely follows the events and plotline of Nightbound, and features a separate antagonist, different character motivations, and further worldbuilding.

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Circumstance/series tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

After her encounter with the bloodwraith leaves Lady Smoke without her cursed touch, Katherine sets out to organize a meeting with the only power in the city left uninterrogated: the Garden Coven. Taylor takes advantage of their time left hanging to finally visit Kristin’s hospital bed. There he finds a familiar face and finally gets an outsider’s perspective on the weirdness his life has become.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“No wonder you’re a dead name in this town, Ryder. Can’t even follow simple orders. Didn’t I tell you to keep Vera away from here?”

“Harsh, Tonya — harsh.”

Vera shoves the Nighthunter aside and almost falls on her knees at her mother’s bedside. Apparently the bad blood that parted them ran a little thinner than the blood they shared.

He recognizes that face — remembers a similar look in his mother’s eyes when she was watching him from his own hospital bedside. Kind of understands the way Tonya Reimonenq tries to look at anything but her daughter.

“As if I wasn’t gonna come see you?” Vera can’t help but sound a little frustrated; a little broken. Takes in the thin black spiderwebbing of her veins they’ve all become a little too familiar with at this point. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“There’s nothin’ lucky about this, Vera.”

Her voice is thick with anger. It’s enough to pull her daughter out of her familial grief. Where she reaches up and Taylor helps her back to standing. Still she holds on to the railing of Tonya’s bed with a hard grip.

She looks her mother over head to toe. Flinches as she takes in the burn unit casts on her hands and forearms. The way her hair is no longer coiffed with a salt-and-pepper streak of refinement but now, instead, lays in disarray over the thin hospital pillows.

Just as her ID band says, the woman lying in bed is Tonya Reimonenq, nothing more and nothing less. Lady Smoke is no more than what her name implies — smoke on the wind.

Vera swallows down something else, maybe some fondness or affectionate word. Instead just lets her hand hover over the nearest cast-bound hand with hesitation.

“Kathy said you…” but the words get lost somewhere between her head and her mouth and she has to try again, “that the… the thing, it…”

Even when Tonya physically turns her head away there’s no hiding it. Not in the monitors that start to beep louder on the other side of her, not in the numbers that jump erratically. Not in the lights overhead — unflattering things to everyone, really — that illuminate the shame in her dark eyes.

“I can’t feel it anymore.”

“Feel what?”

“The connection, baby girl,” and there’s something a little manic in the way she looks at her daughter then, the way she reaches out but can’t touch, “the connection to our birthright. Always there and then…”

The words come out of Taylor unbidden; “Then gone like smoke.”

A tear falls down Tonya’s cheek. Dampens the pillowcase where it lands. Her vitals have slowed down now but the damage is done.

Expensive footsteps stop in the doorway brisk enough to turn their heads. To where a crisp and starched man fusses with a dark trench coat, practically wrenches it off of his shoulders and into the arms of an attendant passing in the hall.

His icy eyes land first on Tonya in bed and then sweep her guests — nothing short of critical, dismissive; borderline angry.

“Money can buy you a good room and unlimited care, Reimonenq, but it won’t buy you out of hospital rules.” He snaps, takes the white doctor’s coat from a different attendant as its given to him.

Along with it a laminated badge: DIAGNOSTIC STAFF, TULANE MEDICAL CENTER. With AUTHORIZED VISITOR on a bright red sticker beneath it.

The doctor pushes through them carelessly — is already fixated on the clipboard of Tonya’s information when he growls out “Anyone who isn’t family get the hell out of my sight before I call security,” and he definitely isn’t kidding.

“Good to see you again, Doctor Ramsey.”

He only looks up at his patient to see the condition of her arms and their bandages. “It isn’t a sentiment shared.”

Because they have no desire to stay and see what the doctor’s wrath looks like, since it sounds violent enough, Taylor and Nik make their way out. Stop only when Vera turns hot on their heels.

“You should stay with her — you know, never know what could happen.” Nik mutters under his breath. He’s so unaccustomed to showing concern that it sounds almost sarcastic for a moment. “I just mean —”

“I know what you mean. But I ain’t doin’ any good standin’ here.”

Taylor reaches and their hands meet between one another. He squeezes her gloves with the same concern and support as he had at the Shift.

“Nik’s right.”

But Vera is, at least on the surface, adamant. “No, Tay’. I’m useless in here. Out there I can—I mean we could—”

Neither of them miss the half-glance she nearly throws over her shoulder.

“Stay,” Taylor tries again; feels her resolve crumble just a little — it’s enough, “we’re not even going far. And if anything changes you’re the first call. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Taylor knows he has no right to try and mend the holes in the Reimonenq family tapestry. That’s not even what he’s trying to do if he’s honest. But underneath all that anger he can feel the threads of regret Vera is trying desperately to hide.

If something did happen she wouldn’t forgive herself. And that’s worse than feeling helpless.

When they finally find their way back to the front lobby (two wrong turns, five angry nurses, and a mentally scarring view of an old man’s ass later) Cal is sitting alone in one of the uncomfortable half-bench chairs. He’s pretending to be focused intently on the muted play of college football on the nearby mounted television — badly. Keeps looking over to where a father distracts his son from the noise and bustle around them with one of those outdated planks with colorful metal wires criss-crossing each other for simple beads to travel on.

Makes sense, though. The kid’s mop of messy dark hair could place him for a younger version of Cal’s brother, Donny.

“Hey, Kujo!” Ryder snaps to get the wolf’s attention — gets more than that when Cal’s upper lip curls like he’s baring fangs.

“You call me that one more time, Ryder, and I swear to god I’ll —”

“Enough, guys.” Taylor forces his way between them.

Ryder, however, is either entirely too used to threats by now or doesn’t find the werewolf to be much of a threat. Both aren’t very healthy reasons.

“Where’s Katherine?”

And yeah, where is Katherine? She’d been so insistent at the Shift to see Tonya’s condition for herself yet had been more than willing to hang back and make a call while Vera reunited with her mother.

Cal jerks his head towards the automated doors. “She dipped out.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed,” luckily all it takes is a glare from Taylor to tone down his dangerous levels of sass, “you find out where she was goin’?”

“Naw, she —”

“She’s making arrangements for us to meet with the Garden Coven — ideally as soon as possible.”

Cadence arrives bearing the holy grail of all holy grails; hospital coffee. Makes balancing the three cups sans lids while swerving his way through a minefield of professionals, patients, and problematic persons downright easy. He hands each of them their caffeinated prizes while continuing; “Time is of the essence after all.”

A grim silence settles over the group. Just another time when, once again, there’s more going on than what’s being said and Taylor is left out of the loop. But he won’t fall into the trap this time — he simply won’t ask.

No matter how burning the compulsion is, how desperately he wants to know? Nope. Not asking.

Ryder practically gags on his first sip of coffee — funny, thinks Taylor, since he chugs down alcohol strong enough to burn off his tastebuds any other time — before he speaks.

“And there’s no one else suspect?”

Cadence shrugs. “The Mayor wasn’t at the garden, but even if it is him by some miracle or another he’d need a witch to summon that level of power.”

“All roads lead to the Garden.”

“Worst case scenario they agree.”

“You should’ve gone with her,” hard to tell which one is sharper; the look Nik throws at the vampire or the edge of his words, “no one has it in good with those crones. She could use the protection.”

“On the contrary I might be second to, well, you in how I stand with them.”

Context — context is good. And judging by said context this Garden Coven is rather the opposite. He pipes up; “They don’t know me yet, that’s a positive, right?”

Three pairs of eyes in a deadpan stare that tells him no, no that isn’t a positive at all.

“Well,” Cal smacks his open palms on his jeans and resumes his seat — the kid and his dad are gone now, the toy left abandoned and on its side, “nothin’ to do but wait. Least here I don’t gotta move Garrus’ inventory.”

So that’s it, they’re just going to sit on their thumbs and wait?

Well — Cal’s going to sit. The vampire shrugs and hands his number off to Ryder with a mention to call him if there’s news; takes off back the way he had come towards the hospital cafeteria.

Then Nik’s leaning in close, voice low and breath a tickle in his ear that Taylor wasn’t prepared for and can’t exactly contain his reaction to. But luckily the front doors slide open at the same time and his shudder could easily be taken as a shiver against the chillier evening air.

“Listen, Rook, about —”

It makes him step back and gape. “You really think now is the time to talk about that?” Because, uh, no.

Then Nik’s rolling his eyes with an arm thrown over his shoulder. “No, I’m not — shut up.” And he may very well be trying to get Taylor alone to talk about… about what happened in the apartment, but his dumb legs follow anyway. Like they’re conditioned by now to know safety lies at the hells of that dumb leather duster.

He stops them just shy of an unmanned desk. Keeps his voice low; “There’s a lot goin’ on right now.”

“Gee, really?”

“I mean —” Taylor takes a little pride in forcing Nik to pinch the bridge of his nose, just a little, “— between Tonya in there, and I don’t even know how to begin tellin’ you all the things not to do in front’a the Garden Coven, and yeah sure at some point maybe… talkin’ about earlier would be good —”

“Not. right. now.”

“I ain’t sayin’ right now!” A rare grunt of genuine frustration. Maybe Taylor’s toed the line a little too far… makes him back off at the very least. He can let the man get his words out, sure.

An opportunity Nik’s grateful for. “I figure you wouldn’t wanna do this without Vera but you weren’t wrong when you said she oughta stay with Tonya. But I dunno the next time we’ll be in this part of town. And I never intended not to keep this promise.”

Oh.

Nik notices the epiphany in his eyes and gives a curt nod. Stands with his hands shoved in his jeans pockets, which hunches his shoulders, which makes him seem more sincere than the hunter’s normal bravado allows for.

“She’s two floors up. You… you up for this?”

No — he isn’t. But as ever Nik is (begrudgingly) right. Who knows the next time they’re not going to be kidnapped, or attacked, or potentially fatally worse?

So he just nods and follows the safety of Nik’s heels towards the elevator.

It should be a good thing that the Intensive Care Unit doesn’t have many long-term patients. But Taylor already has a thing with hospitals. A nearly empty floor with all the blinds drawn and only one cantankerous-looking old guy manning the nurse’s station?

Welcome back to your own personal horror movie, Taylor.

The floor’s only occupants are side-by-side. So focused on getting to her after all this time, Taylor barely gives the man a passing glance. Catches sight of a smaller, frail-looking body in the bed over where his back is hunched and shaking with silent sobs.

The air is stale with the salty taste of grief.

The first thing he notices is how dull her room looks. Makes sense; she’s in a different city in a different state than where she grew up and even if there were volunteers about they’re probably all assigned to the patients who will appreciate and take advantage of a stranger’s generosity.

“I should’ve brought flowers,” mutters Taylor absently.

She would have brought him flowers. That’s just the kind of friend Kristin is.

Only the chart at the foot of her bed says ‘Jane Doe.’ Lists extensive injuries Taylor catches only a glimpse of before he forces his gaze elsewhere. But because he’s back in the Hunter Horror Flick each new thing he sees is leagues worse than the last.

Tonya had magic on her side. Even if it was gone now, even if it hadn’t worked — it was more than the negative defenses Kristin had had against their attacker.

She looks like someone poured a gallon of ink over a kiddie pool of milk. Weird analogy but not a wrong one. The machine keeping track of her vitals beeps slow and rhythmic. Says good things about the state of her pulse and her heart… only that he’s pretty sure it should be a little more upbeat.

He would have thought the tube down her throat would make him gag but somehow knowing it’s helping keep her alive is enough to stay his weak stomach. The in-process transfusion between a healthy, red bag on her right and the barbecue sauce-looking contents of the left bag, though… well he has to look away some time.

He’d hoped—no, thought—Nik was still in the doorway; a reassuring presence giving him an inch of space. Instead the Nighthunter is given a mile and is nowhere to be found.

He shoves the ‘Why I’m Uncomfortable With That’ essay back inside — there’s room to spare in the little mental box he’s assigned to process pretty much everything regarding Nik Ryder at a later and less perilous date.

Only when he’s taken in every part of her — no matter how frail or beaten — does Taylor pull up a chair from near the open doorway. Reaches out and covers Kristin’s hand with both of his own.

Because its easier than accepting the truth Taylor just tells himself he’s getting a fever, and that alone is the reason why she’s as cold as ice.

The alternative is there, screaming in his face, but he’s willfully denied the existence of something before, right? He’s pretty much a pro at this point.

“Christ, Krissy… I’m — I’m so sorry.”

Sorry he’s only just coming to see her now. Sorry he let this happen to her in the first place. Sorry he had such a stupid idea as he had.

Only barely registers the trembling in his hand when he reaches out and pushes a strand of her hair aside. He wants to rip the tube out of her mouth — it looks alien; wrong.

Can she hear him? He’s heard different stories of coma patients being aware of what’s around them but — but this isn’t an ordinary coma. This is supernatural, this is painful.

This is all his fault.

“‘Bout time Miss Jane got herself a visitor. I told — oh, hey, don’t I know you?”

He doesn’t place the voice nor the face it belongs to at first. How could he — in such a short amount of time Taylor’s met so many different people, different creatures. To see someone from before all this began is jarring in a way he didn’t expect.

That the badge tacked onto her olive green blazer says VOLUNTEER rather than a name doesn’t help either. Not until her features waver in front of his face — a heat mirage on a distant desert road.

The cemetery tour guide is the literal last person he expected to see now. He tries to be discreet wracking his mind for her name but must not do a very good job; “Tilly, not that I’d expect ya to remember.”

“No no, I — I do. I just… it’s been a weird couple of days.”

Her gaze, bright and with that cat-like intensity Garrus has helped him get accustomed to, look through him to Kristin’s bed. “I bet.”

Right — she had invited him back to the city with a free ride; traded stories about their plans for Mardi Gras and Taylor had gushed about seeing Kristin for the first time in ages.

And something tells him Tilly lives up to that look in her eyes.

“Might I be right in guessin’ this unlucky lady is that friend’a yours?”

Hesitantly he nods — checks behind her to make sure that grumpy nurse isn’t listening in on them. “But don’t — don’t say anything, okay? I —” Nik would kill him if he was suddenly pulled in for questioning.

She taps her plush lips — how is everything about her just shy of perfect? — with a single finger.

“Secret’s safe with me. I’m just glad she’s finally got some company. I make my rounds when I can, but this ain’t my day job.”

Though that begs the question doesn’t it? “Why do I have a feeling this meeting isn’t coincidence?”

“‘Cause ya’ve got a keen sense about you. I can’t quite see what it is, lit’le human, but it’s awful strong.”

Human, she says. “So you know.”

“Know what, cher?”

“I can see through your glamour.”

“Had a hunch —” she takes the opportunity to step into the room properly, closes the curtain behind her for a barrier however thin, “— ‘specially when you kept starin’ at my ears when first we met. Talk about makin’ a girl self-conscious.”

“Oh—I’m sorry.” At least he’s sheepish about it. But the fae woman waves it off with ease.

“You didn’t go tryin’ ta out me to all the humans in my guide group, so there’s no reason for ‘sorries.’ Most mortals don’t got that kind’a sense about them.”

“You run into this kind of thing often?”

“Oh—well no,” and Tilly goes a little red at the tips of her elven ears, “but I’ve been ‘round for quite some time. In a town like Nawlins you can’t even imagine what can be seen in one immortal lifetime.”

Actually, he can? Seeing Kristin and Tilly again reminds him just how little time has actually passed since his biggest concern was making sure he had all of the ingredients for his former roommate’s ‘tried and true’ hangover cure.

It feels like he’s been through the ordeal of several lifetimes in a matter of days.

His silence speaks volumes, has Tilly pulling up a rolling computer chair from outside the curtain to join him in his solitude. She surprises Taylor by reaching out and tilting his head up with a finger crooked under his chin.

He’s quick to notice that unlike Cadence, whose years echo deep in the weaving colors of his irises, there isn’t a hint of her age to be found.

“Though maybe you can imagine…” Its a prompt — an opening.

And maybe its because she’s caught him still raw from taking in Kristin’s current state or just because he needs to get it all out to someone before he literally explodes — but its an opening that Taylor takes. A little too gladly, maybe.

The levee holding in thoughts and words breaks somewhere on his tongue and just pours out. Keeps going and going and going until she feels compelled to stop him with a gesture, grabs an untouched cup of water from Kristin’s bedside, and practically forces him to drink before he’s allowed to, well, keep going.

Lucky for him though she doesn’t seem bothered by it. In fact she’s best described as enraptured in his tale. Gives nods of understanding; gasps of surprise.

Only when he’s exhausted himself of story to tell, catching up at the literal present with— “and now we’re just waiting, but shit I don’t know where he went, actually, I should go look for him…” —does he stop and breathe.

When Tilly finally decides what to say he just knows, somehow, that she’s chosen every word with care. “That’s certainly a story for the ages, Taylor.”

“Not one I would’ve picked for myself if I had the choice.”

“We don’t always get to choose our path in this life, or the next for that matter. You should count ya’self among the lucky to be a part of the makin’ of the world; of the future.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“No,” the smile she gives him is coy and full of secrets, “I don’t suspect you would.”

He expects her to continue — she doesn’t. And now being left hanging is just shy of uncomfortable. Again, where the hell is Nik…?

“It strikes me, Taylor, that you might not know jus’ what you are. Ain’t you ever wondered?”

Tilly stands and kicks her chair back, makes a point of looking at the closed curtain when the chair collides with the wall loudly but when nothing happens it only encourages her further.

Gets her to grab either side of Taylor’s chair and start pulling him closer to Kristin’s bedside.

“Oi—hey, what’re you doing?” What is she talking about, what he is?

Tilly’s words drip with mischief, “Maybe that bodyguard a’yours is to blame. All this happenin’ at once but no one’s stopped to look at the big picture.”

Taylor recoils just on instinct when she goes to grab his hand but the fae isn’t having it. She wraps her spidery fingers around his wrist and the contact isn’t just warm its like a volcano — scorching hot, bubbling lava, something rising inside of him and swelling to a previously unheard sound.

But he can hear it now. Like its a part of her. Some distant lilting tune that brings to his mind’s eye towering bonfires of majestic purple flames, of waters thousands of miles deep but so clear you can see right to the bottom, of wings the size of an airplane beating heavy and true against a sky riddled with a dozen moons and infinite stars.

He jerks them apart with wide eyes. Finds the smile she’s shining down upon him unnerving in that he can see all of her teeth at once. People who smile like that are always undoubtedly up to something.

The hospital lights flicker, then return to their usual brightness.

He hadn’t even noticed them go dim.

It makes him look around wildly. “Wh—What happened? What did you do to me?” And its only occurred to him what might be considered too late that this Tilly woman might be less a friend than a foe.

“I didn’t do nothin’, cher. Just showed you a teensy bit’a what you’re capable of. Since I bet no one else has bothered to try.”

Before he can protest or even question her there’s a finger to his lips. That same spark only hinted at — the melody stuck on the tip of his tongue. “All these miracles — the good and the bad — and n’one ever stopped to wonder why they keep happenin’ to you?

“Why you can see through the fog, or why ya’ve got literal hell on ya heels?”

“Very bad luck?” He tries through a smushed mouth. Tilly’s laugh is like wind-chimes of ethereal glass.

“Luck ain’t got a side to choose. But luck — luck is a streak of random chance. This is more. After all… what’s our reunitin’ but somethin’ that ought to’ve happened to bring us in the here and now?”

Fabric rustles behind him, enough to distract the fae woman and give him the chance to get her out of his personal bubble.

He’s never been so goddamn happy to see Nik in his life. Even if he plans on hitting the man for abandoning him when this is over with.

There’s a small bouquet of tulips hanging at his side; still with the tag from the hospital gift shop downstairs.

Okay, maybe he’ll save that for another well-deserving time. Because that’s just sweet.

Only there’s nothing sweet about the glower on his face. The way it makes the dark circles under his eyes look harder, the set in his jaw more prominent. He bypasses Taylor to glare right at Tilly. An unreadable expression hidden beneath his well-placed mask.

“What exactly are you implying?” He asks; joins in on the conversation like he’s always been there. Maybe he was — lurking just out of sight.

She cocks her head playfully. “Oh, you know.”

“Pretend I don’t.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

He knows Nik well enough by now — when he doesn’t answer its because he’s still waiting for an answer to his first question.

Then they both look to Taylor — like they’re in each other’s heads. Its unnerving enough already and that just sends goosebumps down his spine.

Tilly with that same hidden knowing. And Nik…

Nik’s scaring him, to be honest, with the unfamiliar expression. An actual expression is rare enough but this… like he’s seeing Taylor for the first time. When he couldn’t have even managed it after being on top of him, being in his most intimate space?

The hunter rubs a hand over his mouth. “I had a hunch, just didn’t have the chance to figure out if it was even possible.”

“How much’a this world is born on impossible, Nik Ryder?” she asks. Earns her a sharp look.

“How can you prove it?”

She wiggles her fingers. “I jus’ did.”

“That ain’t enough to go on.”

“Not for certain — but it’s enough to get y’all in the door.”

“How quickly —”

“Say the word.”

“If he won’t listen —”

“He will.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Easy-peasy,” she presses the tips of her fingers together and Taylor swears he catches sight of sparks where they meet, “it all makes too much sense t’a be just circumstance.”

When Tilly pries her fingertips apart an unnatural breeze, warm and somehow ringed with sunlight, wafts over the room. Rustles the tips of Kristin’s hair and the thin hospital blanket resting atop her. Flutters the drawn curtain and the hem of Nik’s coat.

A single pink petal falls from one of the tulips in his hand — dances practically alive along the tile floor only to be swept out of the room.

Somehow, though, deep in his chest Taylor knows it isn’t the lobby they’ll find on the other side.

In the same way he knows that’s where they need to go next.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay. Not with everything going on; the danger he’d be putting her back in. They were still waiting for word on when to join the others for their confrontation with the Garden Coven.

But looking down at Kristin — frail and so so cold… can Nik blame him for finding it hard to leave her side?

“Don’t worry — she’s safe here.”

He doesn’t take the hand the fae offers and thankfully she seems to understand. “And you won’t tell the hospital who she is?”

“A fae’s word is bond.”

“Thank you.” For watching over her, for letting him vent, for whatever she seems to know that Nik hasn’t yet brought to light.

When Taylor turns its to Nik’s bouquet held out in offering. He’s seen those hands; what they’re capable of. Strangling goblins and firing crossbows and the way they cradled his jaw with yearning. Yet now they’re trembling — the fear of rejection silent but there.

“You said you should’a gotten her flowers.” Explains the Nighthunter absently.

Taylor takes them for the gift — and wayward apology — that they are. Lays them across Kristin’s lap and presses a chaste kiss to her clammy forehead.

“I’ll be back, Krissy. Get well soon.”

Nik waits until they can cross the curtain’s threshold together. Must be feeling some kind of sappy because he doesn’t even try to move away when Taylor finds reassurance in his hand.

There’s a light that shouldn’t be there glowing through the gap where it brushes the floor.

“Are you gonna explain what’s happening before we go, or —”

“I don’t wanna be wrong — you deserve better than that,” small blessings in the fact that Nik seems just as apprehensive about the first foot forward, “but if I’m not… you need to be ready for everything to change from here on out.”

He probably doesn’t mean to be funny. Taylor laughs anyway. “Like it hasn’t already?” — then, because the humor is fleeting — “You’ll stay with me, right?”

“The whole way.”

Those three words — and not even the three most important words in someone’s life — are enough to give him the courage to do what Nik won’t.

He puts his first foot forward and pulls back the curtain.

#nightbound #choices fanfiction #choices nb #nik ryder x mc #nik ryder #cal lowell #vera reimonenq #katherine nightbound #oc: cadence smith #nightbound mc #mc: taylor hunter #oblv: bound by circumstance #oblv: new chapter #; my fics

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cal-puddies · 5 years

Text

without me || ashton irwin

a/n: its long, its angsty. its got drug and alcohol abuse, mentions of rape etc. this has been a huge undertaking so any and all feedback is 100% welcome.

You couldn’t be sure how Cal talked you into this.

Sure. Ashton was in rehab, but even if he completed it, it didn’t mean the two of you were getting back together. And you didn’t really see the point in giving him that hope either.

You stood, Calum’s strong hand gripping your wrist to keep you from running. You felt the slight tug from Luke’s fingers at your back belt loop, also meant to keep you in place. Ashton walked through the door with a doctor, he was laughing. He looked like the Ashton you fell in love with and spent countless hours getting to know, and loving.

Beautiful hazel eyes, nicely tanned skin. He was a little more toned than he was the last time you’d seen him. He was in jeans, and a fitted black top. He was the Ashton you fell in love with.

Not the Ashton that left you crying in the middle of your kitchen, amid the broken dishes and alcohol bottles.

Not the Ashton that you were terrified of.

It started so simply, you barely noticed the behavior change at first. He’d do a bump of coke here or there, but it was only when he was stressed and needed the extra energy. He was still incredibly kind and loving.

But that’s how it always starts, before your life becomes dependent on it.

You couldn’t keep up.

Ashton was all smiles the day you met. He looked a little tired, but still all smiles.

He leaned over to the table you were having brunch at. “You have a really cute laugh.” He mentioned quietly to you.

“Well thank you. Your dimples are cute.” You returned the compliment.

And then the two of you sat, half talking to your tables, and half talking to each other. He, of course, got your number, he didn’t meet ‘chill girls’ like you very often.

And the first date was horrible, nothing went right, he accidently hit you in the nose and you guys spent the night in the ER. But he kept you laughing and took you to ice cream. You guys got a laugh out of everyone staring at you with two black eyes and blood all down your shirt.

But you had a good second date, and very nice first kiss. You liked the way he held your face, his fingers twining into your hair.

The first time he called you ‘baby’ you practically melted into him. You weren’t expecting it, his voice was smooth, but strong. He held your hand, and just briefly looked at you, “Baby, what if I make dinner?” He asked, pulling you closer to him. “We’ll go to the store together.” His lips pressed to your cheek.

“Sure Ash, sounds fun.” You shrugged. And he was charming.

He was careful not to be affectionate in public with you at first. If he accidentally touched your back while you were out with him and the guys, he’d make one of the others touch your back as well.

But it got old real quick, and he wanted to be holding your hand. So he did. And then it was out there. You were Ashton Irwin’s girlfriend, and you made appearances on his Instagram, and he tweeted you when he was out of town and missed you, and he posted pics of you he found cute. He loved to praise the hell out of you, he was so proud of you, and you were happy to reciprocate.

Ash was loving, he loved on you in anyway that he could.

“I wasn’t expecting you.” He says quietly, as he approaches the three of you.

“Cal tricked me into it.” You shrug. “He said we were getting brunch.” You watch his eyes glance down to your wedding band, still snug against the engagement ring on your ring finger. He notices as Cal lets go of your wrist, but Luke is still holding onto your back belt loop. “They were afraid I was gonna go wait in the car.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.” He chuckles. “Last time we saw each other…”

“You left me bleeding and crying on the kitchen floor.” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He somberly nods his head. He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Well hey, ya look good.” Cal interrupts, thankfully, hugging his best friend.

Luke lets you go and you sit, watching him hug Ashton too. You still don’t want to touch him. You weren’t exactly ready to be here.

You sit quietly and half listen, half tune out the conversation. You’d already said more than you intended and it sent you into the black hole spiral you wanted to avoid, hell just seeing Ash brought up parts of the past you’d rather never think about again.

Like the way he didn’t listen that he was hurting you, once when you were having sex, and that was really the beginning of the end. He was going so hard, leaving marks is ways and places he never had before and he actively ignored that you were crying. You stopped wanting him to touch you all together after that. It took him days to realize the mistake. And by then he couldn’t apologize enough.

He tried. Flowers, jewelry, endless apologies. But he couldn’t get close to you, and you didn’t want him too.

“Thanks for sticking it out.” Cal says, after you get settled back in the car. You nod and rest your head against the window, letting the tears spill down your face. You saw the hurt in Ash’s eyes when you pulled out of the hug really quickly. You didn’t want to but you were really uncomfortable. “You ok?”

You sniffle and look at him, “I just wasn’t ready, you know? I wasn’t ready to see him or for him to touch me.”

“Yeah. I saw you pull away…?” Luke asks from the front seat.

“I’m not… I can’t tell you. I don’t want you to see him different Luke.” You say quietly.

Cal turns in his seat and reaches back to you. Resting his hand on your knee. “He told me. He feels awful about it, but he knows you have every right to behave this way.” He explains.

“Did you see his face? I don’t want to hurt him.” You admit.

“He hurt you.” Cal says simply, his fingers gently touch your jaw.

“What happened?” Luke asks quietly, turning in his seat as well.

“Luke, I’m serious, I won’t tell you.” You shake your head. “Can we get a drink?” You ask, looking at Cal.

“Absolutely.” He nods. “Everyone still hungry?” He turns to Luke, gaining his confirmation before turning back to start the car.

You pull the mail out of the mailbox and head inside once Cal drops you off. The top letter is a bill for Ashton’s care, your insurance covered most of it but there was still out of pocket costs. You didn’t want to look at it, even with your amazing job and the royalties, Ashton had snorted a lot of your extra cash up his nose. It was kind of a problem because you’d just moved into a new bigger house and you’d both funneled a lot of money into it.

Looking at the cost kinda made you wanna cry, you were beyond frustrated and you didn’t know how you were gonna get through it. You needed your partner but he’d chosen coke and now he was in rehab. He was no help. You drop the rest of the bills on the table and look around the room.

Next thing you know, Cal’s letting himself in, grocery bags, a duffle and his new dog in tow. “What’re you doing here?” You ask.

“You shouldn’t be alone.” He sighs, “and I know you aren’t taking great care of yourself.”

“He’s gonna have to come back here.” You say quietly.

“He’s got another month, we’ll cross that bridge. He can stay at mine or Luke’s till you figure it out.” He promises, arms engulfing you in a hug.

“Sometimes I think you guys are the best part of my relationship anymore.” You mumble into his chest. You let the tears start to fall and he pulls away only briefly to see that your crying. And then he’s squeezing you tighter.

“Baby.” He whispers. “I’m sure it seems that way. He’s gonna be good again though.” Cal promises.

“The damage is done Cal.” You whisper. “I don’t know him anymore.”

“Don’t say that yet baby.” He asks.

Cal lets you go and then he disappears, putting his stuff in the guest bedroom, he comes back and sets up an area in the kitchen for dog food and then he puts the groceries away. He makes you a drink and sits you at the kitchen island and sets to work on making dinner. He lets you sit quietly, probably because he didn’t know where your mind was off to, though you never really knew where it was going till it got there.

And this time it was the proposal, he’d been so weird about everything that week. He’d insisted you be in Sydney, and you were at a point in your career where you could have the best of both worlds, and be on the road. You guys had been living together for the better part of two years and you’d spent the previous year actually living in the same house for most of the year before he left for tour. He didn’t care whenever else you came out but you had to be in Sydney.

You spent the week leading up to the show with his family, you knew them well by that point. And the night before there was a small party for the guys, their families and the tour crew, and some friends. It was set up on the beach and it was so pretty. There were lights strung up everywhere creating a nice, soft glow. Ash had you in the middle of the dance floor, held close to him while you danced. He dropped to his knee when your favorite song came on.

“There’s no one in the world I want to spend the rest of my life with the way I want to spend it with you.” He declared, pulling a ring out. Your hand instantly went to cover your mouth as tears rolled down your cheeks. “Marry me?” He asked and it was all you could do to nod. He’d stood up and pulled you in, off your feet, and he kissed you. “I love you so so much.”

That night when you went to sleep, he told you you were all he’d ever need.

And he announced it to the Sydney crowd first. He’d made a comment that it was a special night, because his beautiful fiancé had made it to the show, and the crowd screamed wildly for longer than you’d expected.

Cal drummed his fingers on the counter in front of you and you snapped out of it, eyes moving up to meet his. “Sorry, what?” You ask.

“You don’t like?” He gestures to the drink. You make a show of picking it up and taking a few gulps. “Where’s your head then?” He asks.

“When he proposed to me. He told me that night I was the only thing he’d ever need. Guess he didn’t account for the alcohol and coke.” You shrug.

Cal gives you a sad smile. “None of us knew it’d go this far baby.” He assures you.

“I just don’t understand… like I knew he did coke a little before we met, but like to be addicted to it? I can’t help but feel like I triggered that.” You explain.

“You didn’t baby, you can’t think that.” Cal smooths your hair. “It definitely wasn’t you. Part of it is the lifestyle. He just got caught up.”

“I don’t know what to think Cal… I don’t.” You shake your head.

“Listen… when he gets out, it’s gonna be at least a year before we tour again. He needs to find his baseline again… I get it if you don’t want to be apart of that. But this isn’t your fault.” Cal lets out a sigh and wipes his hand over his face. “I’m here for you babe, no matter what, doesn’t matter what you choose in the end. I’m gonna be here for you.”

“Thanks Cal.” You give him a sad smile and rest your hand on top of his.

“You know when you married him you kinda married the whole band.” He chuckles.

“I know. I appreciate you.”

“Ya know Ash may want to tell the rest of the guys everything at some point so they understand. We don’t really keep shit from each other, you know that right?”

“I know. Kinda fighting with how they’ll view me after it’s all said and done.”

“They don’t get to say shit. He’s been shitty to all of us, but he’s been the worst to you.” Cal cups your chin for a minute and you guys just look at each other. He’s always had a way of silently calming you. “You’re gonna be so good babe.” He whispers.

“Thanks Cal.” You smile softly and then he turns back to the food.

The month goes quickly, you go with Cal a few more times to see Ash and it seems to ease some of the tension you’re feeling, seeing him look healthy and act like the man you love. You start to accept when he leans in for the hug, or briefly touches your hand or arm. And his eyes always find your wedding band, to make sure you’re still wearing it. To make sure he still has a chance.

Because if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that he can’t do any of this without you, that you are his best friend and he regrets the hurt he inflicted on you the most. He loves you more than he ever thought possible and everything could fade away if he still had you. But he didn’t know how to say that, not yet. He still owed you a thousand apologies for the kitchen, and the missed dates and anniversaries, the days long benders where he’d disappear and not answer his phone. He knows he has a lot to make up for; but he thinks it could be possible if you’re here and of your own free will.

You’re still deciding though, if there’s enough to salvage, if you could handle it.

“Getting out next week, yeah?” Cal asks.

“Yep, I’m really excited.” His hand wraps around yours, “I can start making amends.”

You nod at him and then Cal speaks up. “Maybe you should come stay with Luke or I for a bit, while you two work on things.” He suggests.

And Ash is looking to you, to see if you agree or if you’ll protest. But you’re kind of a stone wall and you’re mostly staring at the side of Calum’s face.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever is gonna be best.” Ash eventually agrees.

So the next week you’re driving to Calum’s, and it reminds you of the first time Ash introduced you to his band. You met Calum about an hour before a party, because Ashton knew you’d need someone else to talk to, he’d be busy making the rounds.

Calum and you quickly became friends, you talked to him almost as much as you talked to Ash, but Ash knew there was nothing to worry about. Michael was the only one that was iffy when you met, Luke loved you immediately, “anyone who makes Ash that happy is good for all of us.” He’d said, pulling you into a hug.

This drive felt familiar. You’d picked Ash up from Cal’s out of his mind more than a few times. And it got to the point where you told Cal he needed to sleep it off before you saw him.

You pull up and park, you start to grab the bags of things Ash asked for from the car. And soon Cal and Luke are out helping you.

“Mike and Crys are here too.” Cal says quietly. You nod. You’d known all of them would be there.

“Anyone else?” You ask.

“He’s only asking for you.” Cal smiles at you.

Mike opens the door as you all walk up, he engulfs you in a hug, “Hey babe.” He says quietly.

“Hey Mike.”

Crystal pushes him out of the way, “Baby. It’s been too long.”

“I know.” You nod, hugging her back.

And then Ash is waiting a few feet away. He gives you a half smile and you walk over to him. He looks at you and you know he’s asking if he should hug you, you give a slight nod and he engulfs you. “Thanks for coming over.” He whispers.

“Of course.” You nod against his chest. He lets you go and your fingers lightly wrap around his and you pull him through the kitchen and out the back door. “Know you wanna come home babe.” You say as the door closes. “I’m not ready though. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not ready to have me in that space again and I accept that.” He says, “I wasn’t exactly the nicest the last time I was there.” He sighs, “and I’m so fucking sorry for that. I’m sorry for everything. I’m sorry for not being the man I swore to you I’d be when we got married. I’m sorry for hurting you in all the ways I did. You did nothing but love and support me and I… I did that to you. I’m so fucking sorry.” Ash is on the edge of tears and you’re sure he shouldn’t be that worked up. You reach out and touch his shoulder and he pulls away. “Don’t comfort me right now babe, I don’t deserve it.”

“Ash… you still deserve to be comforted.” You say, a little helpless.

“Not from you.” He disagrees. “Not right now. But someday I will be. Some day you’ll look at me and mostly see the man you married. I promise you that…” he’s quiet for a while. And you both stand there with each other and he looks up at you, “could we try… maybe going on dates again? Until you feel comfortable with me?” He asks.

“Yeah. Of course.” You agree. Because your heart aches and you miss him, this him. Not the coked out him.

“Everything ok back here?” Calum asks, poking his head out the door. He looks between the two of you and you both nod. “Dinner will be here soon, baby you want a drink?” He asks.

“Please.” You nod. Cal smiles and then goes back inside.

“You and Cal seem a lot closer than I remember.” He mentions quietly, “baby.” He almost sneers.

“You know what… we aren’t doing this again.” You say, turning your back.

“Again?” He asks, quietly.

You turn and look at him, “you don’t remember accusing me of this?”

“Of what?”

“Sleeping with Calum?” You explain. He shakes his head. “Do you remember that last day in the house?”

“Bits and pieces. Nothing about accusing you of being with Calum.”

You sigh, “I moved all the liquor, before I left for my trip. Cal said you like… disappeared for days, so I was surprised when you were home when I got there. You’d obviously been looking for something, the liquor, I think, because everything in the kitchen was in complete disarray. You asked me about having a family again, and I was just so tired. So instead of changing the subject or pretending not to hear you, I told you, I said that we’d never start a family while you were high or drunk all the time, I couldn’t trust you. And you lost it. You started screaming at me, you said I was sleeping with Cal.” You stop and look over his face, you can tell he really doesn’t remember. “And then, then all you wanted was the alcohol. So I just gave in and got you the vodka. You took a drink from the bottle and then went right back to Cal, and us not having a family. You threw it at me, and then one by one, all the plates and bowls you’d taken out and anything you could get your hands on. They all shattered, I got so many cuts on my legs and feet. I called Cal and said he had to come get you or I was calling the cops… two days later he called and told me you were going to rehab… I mean it sucked, I’d asked you like 100 times to get help, after everything.” You shrug.

“Wow… I… don’t remember that.” He moves toward you a bit, and it takes everything in you not to move away, he gently reaches for your hand. “Babe I’m… so fuckin sorry. And I know that doesn’t fix it. But I want to work on fixing it, if we can.” He sighs. “I know you’d never with Calum or anyone. I know he… I know you guys are close… I know he’s been helping you out, while I’ve been… in rehab.”

And then you can’t help it, you look him over and pull him in for a hug. He pulls back briefly and looks at you, making a decision. He holds your face and presses the softest kiss he can to your lips, and you let him. Because this Ashton can tell when to stop, and he does so. You bite your lip as his hands rest on your hips. And you go back in for another kiss, making the decision this time. He tries to make it deeper and you let it happen briefly before pulling away.

“Sorry, Ash.” You mention, dropping your hands from his neck.

“It’s ok.” His lips press to your forehead. “I’ll be the man you fell in love with again. You’ll see. I’ll show you.”

“I really fuckin hope so, Ash, more than anything.” You admit, quietly.

Luke’s head pops out, “dinner, you two.” You turn and go inside, hand in hand with Ash.

The guys talk about new music, and Ash listens intently as you catch Mike and Crys up on your life. Ash tells a couple stories from rehab just to have something to share. Luke talks about his new girlfriend and Cal stays quiet. You know he’s watching you, as Ashton drapes his arm over the back of your chair, he watches as Ash can’t take his eyes off you, his eyes catch Ash’s other hand on your thigh.

“I have an early meeting so I’m gonna have to get going.” You admit, standing. “Cal, thanks for having me, guys it was great to see you all.” You smile.

“Of course babe, you want me to walk you out… ow!” Cal says, rubbing his shin.

“She’s my wife, I can walk her out.” Ash explains. You laugh, but you let Ash grab your hand and walk you out. “Thanks for being here.” He says quietly.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else Ash. Even if I didn’t want to be here, I’d have been here. You just completed one of the most difficult things in your life and it’s only going to get harder before it gets easier. I want to be here for you, but I’m still figuring out how to balance this for myself.”

Ash cups your face, he presses his forehead to yours and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I put you through this. You never deserved it. There are three men in there better than me you could have had.”

“Don’t do that baby. I chose you, and most days, I still would. I wouldn’t choose them. We hit a rough patch and now we’re gonna see what we’re really made of.” You whisper.

You let him kiss you, more than a peck and you let him use tongue. “Can you do dinner on wednesday?” He asks, pulling away slightly.

“Yeah I can. I’ll bring your car, so you have it and then you can take me home?” You ask.

He nods, “perfect. Can I text you?” He asks.

“Of course.” You agree. “Have a good night Ash.”

“Night baby.” He kisses your cheek and opens your car door, shutting it after you’re in.

Ash grins wide when he opens the door at Cal’s. “You look amazing baby.” He compliments, pulling you inside. “I just gotta grab shoes, sorry.”

“Hey, calm down… we’ve done this before.” You insist, grabbing his hand.

“I know. Stakes are different. You fell in love with me the first time not knowing where it’d go… but now I need you to fall back in love with me having seen my worst.” He explains and takes a deep breath.

“Never fell out of love with you. We wouldn’t be here doing this. Ok. Just breathe Ash, it’s me.” You rest your hand on the side of his face.

He chuckles and looks you over. “Thank you.” He kisses your knuckles and disappears for his shoes.

Ash orders water, and it’s the first time you think about whether you should order your Manhattan.

“Sorry. Is it ok if I get a drink? I guess Cal went to all those things for you, the do’s and don'ts.”

“You can get a drink baby.” He grins. “Cal keeps alcohol in the house. I’m ok. It wasn’t the alcohol I went for anyway.”

After a month of dates, Ash is staying over. He comes over for dinner, and he’s well, he’s been very well. It was falling in love all over with him. He’s sweet and charming and he touches you just right every single time.

You’d had a glass of wine with dinner and now Ash has you propped on the arm of the couch, he was between your thighs, kissing you. He pulls away briefly, “you can say no… but any chance you wanna take this to bed?” He whispers, forehead pressed to yours.

“I definitely do… I just don’t know that we should.” You admit.

“You still scared of me?” He asks, and you can see the pain in his eyes.

“A little.” You nod, looking at the floor.

“Can I show you you don’t have to be scared?” He whispers. “You used to love going to bed with me. You like when I kiss your neck and you moan like a porn star when I go down on you. Sucking dick isn’t your favorite but you always get into it for me. You let me spank you because it turns us both on, and you’ll let me have you anyway, or you used to, because you could trust me, but you prefer chest to chest, whether it’s against the wall or sitting up in bed. You don’t love it when we’re laying down. You moan my name so softly sometimes I’m not sure I heard you, and then others I know the neighbors can hear you. Want you to be comfortable in whatever we do baby.” He admits.

“How about… we can go upstairs and see how it goes?” You whisper. “I’m not kidding though Ash, if I ask to stop you need to listen.”

“Baby, I know. I won’t make that mistake again. Mike and Cry’s were appalled when I told them. I mean, why wouldn’t they be? I raped my wife because I was too high to care.” He sighs. “Maybe we shouldn’t yet.”

“Ash... lets just take it upstairs, maybe we don’t go all the way but I’d really like to moan like a porn star for you again.” You smirk.

“Happy to put my mouth to any use we can find for it.” He smirks back and kisses you.

He only spends about 15 minutes that way before you’re pulling him up by his hair and asking him to get naked. He’s happy to do it, and he’s gentle and slow and everything you love about making love with Ash. He holds you, close to his chest. And he smells familiar and he’s warm. And it’s comfortable in a way it hadn’t been in years.

He whispers an “I love you.” As he knows you're falling asleep.

And then Ash is taking you on dates and spending the night and spending a few days at a time. Around the end of month two home Cal wrangled you for lunch while Luke took Ash out.

“Hey handsome.” You greet as he meets you at the restaurant.

“Hi love.” He grins, pulling you into a hug. “Been seeing a lot less of Ash around lately. Things going ok?”

“You could say that.” You nod. “Things are going really well actually. He’s been staying at the house and sleeping in our bed and all that Jazz.” You wave your hand.

“I know.” He winks. “Ash came home all excited after you…. re-christened the bed.” He chuckles. “Think you’ll let him come home soon?”

You nod, “I’m gonna talk to him tonight… Thank you again for letting me get my bearings.”

“He’s my brother, he married you so you’re my sister. And I want you to be 100% comfortable with what’s going on, and that’s how I can help.” He wraps both hands around both of yours. “No matter what choice you make, this isn’t the end all, be all. You still get to change your mind. I’ll support it.”

“He’s so good right now Cal.”

“I know… it’s gonna take a village to keep him on track, but, it’s also super important that you just keep treating him the way you have been.”

“I will.” You agree.

Ash looks at you like you might kill him, you’re perched on his bed at Cal’s. “Babe… everything’s fine. I have something for you.” You explain. He moves slightly closer. “Hold out your hand.”

You drop the set of keys in his hand, and he stares at it quizzically for a moment. “What’re these?”

“Keys to our house. I had the locks changed after the whole thing in the kitchen. But that’s not the point… the point is, i want you to come home when you’re ready, baby.”

His face softens up, he sets the keys on the bed and he leans over to kiss you, holding your face and your hands slip around his waist. Ash gently pushes you down, so you’re on your back. You stop him. “As much as I would love to have one of our mind blowing sessions right now, we cannot baby, not at Cal’s, not with him just down the hall.”

“He won’t mind.” Ash groans into your neck.

“Mmmm... I mind.” You laugh. “Get some stuff and come home baby, we can grab the rest of your things tomorrow.”

“Mmmf.” He moans in your ear, “love it when you talk domestic to me.”

“You’re an idiot.” You laugh.

“Your idiot though.” He gently grabs your jaw and turns your face toward him, “happy to be your idiot still.” He kisses you.

You thread your fingers in his hair and gently rub his scalp. “Yeah… you are.” You agree. “My handsome idiot man.” You chuckle and he lets out a hearty laugh. “Ash, thanks for getting help. I really appreciate it. I needed you back.” You admit quietly.

“You know, I could tell you weren’t decided on me when you came to visit the first time. I knew I was so close to losing you. And fuck. I wanted to check out so bad that night. Because part of what got me there was Cal sobering my ass up and telling me straight up, if I didn’t do it, I’d lose you… and that was horrifying.” He admits. “That’s when I knew.”

“Honestly… pretty sure Cal coming over when he did salvaged any chance you might have had at us after rehab.”

“He’s my best friend for a reason. My best man too.” Ash kisses you and pushes up off of you. You watch him grab one of the bags you’d brought over and he starts packing things.

The first week home was weird. You weren’t used to all his new little habits since rehab, and you hadn’t really noticed while he was still at Cal’s. Like he picked up smoking, but he didn’t smoke a whole cigarette, he’d go out for a couple puffs and then onward in his day, and it was usually only once a day but it was incredibly inconsistent. Apparently it was common in rehab.

He seemed lethargic around the drums, because he hadn’t really played in 3 months. But he was trying, he knew he needed to get back into it. Cal came over to work with him a bit, and it was nice to hear them both back in the house, but had gotten used to the quiet.

But he was definitely trying to make up for lost time in the bedroom. His hands were all over your body, whenever they could be, he was pulling you into rooms in the house you’d never had sex in before. He ate you out, had you laid out on your dining room table like some sort of meal, he’d had you across the counter a few times now too, In the shower, on the couch in the living room, on the stool at his kit, he’d come into the office while you were working one day and you rode him in the chair. It was exactly like when you’d first moved in together all those years ago, sex on every surface.

And he was so set on pleasing you, it never had anything to do with him.

You guys were out with friends, Ash stayed close to you or Cal, you were best at keeping him from the things he didn’t need to be around, the plethora of drugs that always seemed available at this club, or someone handing him a drink. “Baby I wanna go home.” He says to you, returning from a trip to the bathroom, arms going around your waist, his chest to your back.

“Yeah, handsome, let me close my tab. Will you see if Cal is ready? We can drop him on the way.” You ask, finishing your drink.

“Cal’s a big boy, he can find his own way home.” Ashton groans, nipping a little hard at your neck, and squeezing you a little too tight.

You pull away slightly and look at him. And he immediately pulls you back to him so you can’t.

So you pull a little harder and completely out of his grasp and you turn to look at him. “What the fuck Ash?” You watch him for a minute, making sure you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing.

Cal comes over, because he notices the tension, “Hey, what’s up?... Ash?” He asks, and you know he sees what you see, Ash is high.

“Who?” Cal asks. And you and Ash completely understood the question. “Ashton what the fuck man. You’re getting your life together, your wife back. Why? Who? Who gave it to you.”

“Someone in the bathroom.” He shrugs.

“Don’t come home tonight.” You groan. “Give me your fucking keys.”

“No. I’m fine. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Ash insists.

“Keys, Ash.” You say, holding your hand out, and he kinda knows now that’s he’s really fucked up this time. Your face says it all, but he’s having a little trouble caring.

He pulls them out of his pocket and drops them in your hand. “What am I supposed to do then?” He asks.

“Call your rehab, get a hotel, like I give a fuck.” You wave him off as you walk toward the bar. You pay your tab and head for the door.

“You’re coming with me.” Cal says to Ash.

“I just wanna go where she’s going.” He says, pointing after you.

“Yeah, well… she doesn’t want you right now. She’s probably going home to sign the divorce papers.” He remarks, dragging ash to the bar to pay his tab. “Get an Uber, to my house.” Cal says, smacking him in the back of the head.

Ash pulls his phone out and gets the Uber then looks back at Cal. “Divorce papers?”

“She told you she wasn’t putting up with this anymore Ash. You think she’s gonna let you back in the house. You’ve been clean for six fucking months. You’ve been at home for 3. She doesn’t want you there right now, i’d honestly be surprised if she ever did again.” Cal does all but push Ashton out of the bar, to find you, back pressed against a wall, crying, near the door.

“Babe!” Ash says, looking at you, moving toward you, hands out and ready to touch you.

“Don’t touch me.” You warn as he comes close to you. You push off the wall, and back away and Ash trips over himself, falling down.

Cal grabs him and picks him up. He shoves him against the wall. “Stay here Romeo, I’ll check on her.” He turns to come toward you, but then has a second thought. “Try not to draw any more attention to yourself, we don’t need people knowing you’ve relapsed.” He pushes hard against his right shoulder. “Wait up.” He calls, heading toward you.

“I can’t tonight.” You shake your head.

“Hey. This sucks I know. I’m gonna take him home with me. So you know he’s safe at least.” He shrugs.

“I don’t care.” You shake your head. “He goes to rehab he’s fine, he lives with you, he’s fine, he comes home and he’s getting high in a club bathroom on god knows what’s it's fucking me. I’m what’s doing this to him.”

“No.” Is all cal can say, pulling you into a hug. “It’s not you.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You shake your head. “Let him get sober and send him home please. So we can talk about the future of us.”

“Will do, baby. Call me later if you need or want to talk.” Cal kisses the top of your head and you both head to your separate Uber’s.

-he’s afraid to come home. Can you come here?

Cal texts, it’s mid afternoon, and you know it’s because he spent the morning trying to convince Ash to go home.

The night hadn’t been particularly kind to you, and you grab one of Ash’s bags and start pulling things out of drawers and shoving it in the bag to take with you.

You make your way to Cal’s he lets you in and points toward the direction of Ash’s room. And you can hear him pacing and talking to himself. He knows he fucked up.

You knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But, you were already at the end of your rope.

You walk in, shutting the door behind you and letting the bag drop on the floor. “Ash.”

“Babe.” His head immediately snaps up and to your direction.

“Ash.” You nod, resting your back against the door.

“You came?”

“We gotta talk Ash. I’ve been thinking, and you didn’t have a real problem until you married me, and then when you stayed with Cal, you were fine, and you came home and now all of a sudden, and you aren’t. Is it me? I’m the common thing here.”

“I dunno what I was thinking last night.” He admits, “it’s not you, I love you so much.”

“You can… love me to the end of the earth, but I could still be the one causing you to feel like you need to do this.” You let yourself start crying. “Maybe we jumped back in too fast, it’s what you wanted, I thought I was helping you but clearly I wasn’t. Maybe you should stay with Cal awhile. Maybe…” you sniff, “maybe we should chalk it up to a loss.”

“Baby, don’t… this, no. I want you, that’s it. I don’t want anything else in the entire world.” He pleads.

“Except coke.” You whisper, “you had me, you’ve had me, and coke is still what you chose.” You sigh. “Maybe I’m what you want because it’s comfortable. But maybe I’m not the best thing for you anymore.” You let out a sob. “I did my best, ya know. I’ve loved you endlessly. And I’ll always love you, but if I’m not the best thing for you…”

“Don’t… don’t finish that. You are the best thing about me.” He argues.

“Doesn’t feel like it. Maybe… let’s just try being apart for a little while.”

“No. No no no. We already were apart, the time I was in rehab and the time I spent here.”

“But, Ash. I just want you to get better and be better. And if that’s without me, then that’s it. That’s the answer.” You meet his eyes. “Can we just agree to try it? See how it goes.”

“I’m not ok with this.”

“And I’m not ok with what happened last night Ash. Or the last 3 years.” You shrug. You turn and grab the door knob, and let yourself out, pulling the door closed behind you.

You rest your back against it. And you can feel Ash lightly hit it with his fist, “baby, no. Please. I… I love you.”

“I love you Ash.” You say out loud, so he can hear you. You walk towards the living room and see Cal sitting there. His new dog in his lap. “Um… were gonna take a break, he’s, he’s probably not gonna be ok for a while.”

“We shouldn’t have taken him out, they usually say like a year? And he was doing so good and we were both there.” He pushes himself up for the couch and engulfs you. “He said he wanted to be there for mitchy’s birthday.”

“Well I’m inclined to believe Mitchy is where he got it from… I gotta go Cal. I can’t be here right now, it’s not good for him or I.”

“Ok babe, I’m here for you too, like we talked about.” He whispers.

“I know Cal.” You nod. You lean up and kiss his cheek. “I just think people in this house need a break.”

You don’t see any of them for 3 months. You and calum text intermittently, He checks on you, and he lets you know what’s going on with Ash.

You get invited to the co-ed baby shower for Mike and Crystal and you of course have to go. You get a quick heads up that Ash might bring someone and you get that twinge in your chest. The one that tells you this is gonna suck a lot more than anticipated.

You string your wedding and engagement rings on a chain as you get ready. You check and make sure the gift is perfectly wrapped, and the card is ready, and then you nervously make the drive, Cal meets you outside and he hugs you so tight to him, and you know why.

“He’s sober… he brought another girl.” He sighs, “he’s been sober since that day, we’ve been hitting the gym, he’s playing again.” He explains. “But he met someone.”

“That’s the point of a separation.” You sigh.

He gently grabs the chain and pulls on the rings, “he’s not gonna like this.”

“Well, he’s already got something he likes.” You shrug. “You look good, Cal. Gym’s been good to ya.”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder to walk you in. Ash is holding hands with the little blonde thing he brought. He looks good, he looks in shape and healthy. You stare for a minute before your spotted by what appears to be a barely pregnant Crystal.

“Where have you been?” She demands, squeezing you.

“Busy, babe.” You shrug.

“We know what’s going on. By the way. Mike asked him not to bring her.” She says quietly.

“It’s Ok that he did. I told him this is what I wanted.” You assure her.

She sighs, but leaves you for Mike and Luke.

“Hi.” Luke grins, pulling you in. “Heard y’all are seeing other people…” He starts, winking when he pulls back, hands staying on your hips.

“We both know if I was gonna go for anyone else in the band, I’d jump into Cals bed first.”

“Well I’ll take solace in knowing I’m your third choice.” He grins again.

“Keep telling yourself that.” You wink.

He rolls his eyes and Mike pulls you in and holds you extra long, and you just enjoy it. “You’re good, he’s gonna be ok, and things will get figured out.” He promises quietly in your ear. “We all agreed there needs to be a massive change in the way we all live, so nothing like that happens again, he still loves you, you’re still end game.”

“Mmm, thank you, but it doesn’t feel that way. And congratulations to you! You’re gonna be a dad!” You say excitedly.

“Mmmhmm, to a baby girl.” He says.

“Mike that’s so exciting!” You grin and hug him again.

It’s toward the end of the party when Ash approaches you. “Hey.” He greets.

“Hi Ashton. Good to see you, you look good.” You force a smile.

“Gym, drums. You look good too, um… this is Julie.” He gestures to the girl standing next to him. She looks bored.

“Julie, this is…”

“You’re wife, I recognize her from the pictures.”

“Nice to meet you.” You say, holding your hand out to shake hers.

She’s not particularly nice, and really not Ashton’s type, but if she helps him stay clean then you can’t really care that much.

“How’ve you been?” He asks, trying to break the awkward tension.

“Good, uhhh busy with work. House is pretty empty, but I have a ton of your mail, I’ll drop it by.” You nod.

“I’ll transfer money for the house payment. You need any help with the bills?” He asks. And you’re a little surprised because he hasn’t cared about anything financially in about 3 years.

“Uh no, I think I’m ok, on those.” You say. “I’ll drop the mail by later this week; but I’m gonna get going. I have a ton to do for work.” You excuse yourself. You say bye to Crystal and Mike, Luke on your way out and then you see Cal outside. “She’s not particularly nice, is she?” You ask, looking at him.

“No. She’s kind of really annoying.” He slips his hand in yours as you walk toward to your cars. “You ok?”

“I know this was my idea but it was a fucking dumb one. I’m not ok enough to see that. To see him kiss her and touch her and hold her. He’s my husband.” You gripe.

“I know babe.” He agrees.

“What was I thinking? I mean. I honestly thought he wouldn’t see anyone else, because he loves me so much. But boy was I wrong.” you continue to rant. “Is he ok Cal? Is he really ok?” You ask turning to face him because you are now in front of your car.

“Yeah, he’s been doing really good baby.”

“Do you think it’s because of her?” You sniffle And Cal now knows you’re crying.

“No baby, I don’t.” He wraps you up tight in his arms. “I think it’s because of you. He needs to get right before he can be with you. He should have done it before you got married. But he didn’t and here we are.”

“I’m sorry… for bringing you into this.” You groan, “this isn’t your fault.”

“Stop.” Cal pleads. “You’re ok. I’m here for you too. We all are.”

You’re a wreck for the next few days, you finally get it together enough to go Cal’s with Ashton’s mail.

Ashton opens the door shirtless in just basketball shorts, drumsticks in hand. “Hey, come in!” He grins at you.

“Here’s everything that’s come for you.” You hand him the stack of mail and cross your arms.

“Thanks. Cals out.” He says, noticing your eyes wandering.

“Oh, that’s ok, I really just came by for this.” You shrug. “I should go.”

“Can you stay? Just for a bit? We can talk?” He asks. He sets the mail and drumsticks on the table.

“Are you sleeping with her?” You blurt, no longer able to contain it.

He sucks in a deep breath, and lets it out. He gently reaches for you and he pulls you into a hug. “We’re still married, you’re still my wife. I’m absolutely not doing that. We’ve messed around a bit, but she understands the boundaries. I’m pretty adamant about it.” His lips push to the top of your head, “I love you babe.” He whispers, “I’m not… I won’t stop loving you.”

“I know I asked for this. I’m sorry.” You sniffle.

“Baby, no.” He sighs, “I know why. It’s ok. I know I was… upset then, but it makes sense now. I see it, I get it. But I would never with someone else. I made my vows to you. And I know that.”

“I love you Ash.” You whisper. “I should go.” You mention.

“Can you stay, a little while?” He asks, “come watch me drum? I know you love that.” He picks up his sticks, and holds out his other hand. You think on it briefly and then grab his hand and go back to the music room with him.

He plays for awhile and you admire him, he’d definitely found his passion again, and his body was in the best shape, possibly ever. He grins, when he looks up, and sees you sitting there.

“I like you there.” He mentions. And you can tell by the glint in his eye that he remembers the first time he ever said that to you.

He’d invited you over, you’d been dating a month, and you’d ask him to play for you, so he did. And you sat and watched, and grinned the whole time. He knew your eyes never left him, and this was the same.

“I like seeing you like this.” The response was natural and the same it had been then.

“C’mere.” He grins, he pulls you to his lap, and puts a stick in each one of your hands, “show me whatcha got,” his lips press to your shoulder real quick and you beat something out. “So much better than you used to be.” He laughs.

“Well there are a couple sets at home for me to practice on.” You laugh turning to look at him.

Next thing you know, his nose is softly brushing yours, and he tests the water, briefly brushing his lips against yours. “This ok?” He hums, forehead pressed to yours.

“Mmhmm.” You agree, not 100% sure where it was going.

“Can we go to my room?” He checks.

“Only if you kiss me.” You whisper.

His hand cups your face, and his lips press to yours. He hums quietly as he deepens the kiss. His hand gently smooths your hair. The sticks lay abandoned on the drum as he carries you, legs wrapped tight around his waist, to his room. The door is shut behind the two of you and then you are naked.

Ash gently lays you back, and he’s gentle. He uses his fingers first, to open you up. And he’s slow and loving as he does it.

“Ash… you… please.” You whimper.

“Yeah baby.” He agrees, and then he’s pulling you to him, against him, you straddle him and sink down on and him and he slowly works on rocking you, just enough for you both to get pleasure out of it.

It was like this in the hotel room, on your wedding night. The feeling was the same. You’re heart swelled in your chest, knowing Ash was so healthy and he seemed well.

You rest your head on his shoulder, and he tightens his grip on you. “My love.” He whispers. “Needed this.” His lips press to your bare shoulder.

You guys lay cuddled close under the blanket for a while, after you finish. Ash’s finger tips are drawing shapes into your back. “This ok?” He asks, questioning whether he made the right choice with this.

“I wouldn’t still be laying here if it wasn’t… but what about your girlfriend?” You wonder.

“Wife comes first.” He sighs, “she's just… she's helping me figure it out babe and I know you were trying but she’s been through it.” His hand comes up and tucks your hair behind your ear, then smooths it.

“Is it something I needed to do better.” You ask quietly.

“No. You’re great baby. You… you just… I can’t explain it, love.” He sighs. “I wish I could, I know you need it. But I just, I don’t know. I’m sorry baby.”

“You don’t have to apologize Ash.” You sigh, “I just needed to know.” You lay quietly for awhile, “I should go.” You move to get up.

Ash grabs you at your waist, “don’t leave.” He whispers.

“What about Julie? Not to mention, this is fucking confusing for me.” You admit.

“Julie isn’t coming over until dinner and you should stay anyway. I know Cal misses you.”

“Ash.” You gently push against his chest and it only encourages him to hold you tighter. “We shouldn’t…”

“I know baby, but I can’t help it.” He starts pushing sweet kisses to your collarbone. “I’m always gonna be drawn to you. I want to be better… to be back with you.”

“Well us jumping into bed like this probably isn’t helpful.” You sigh.

“I know. But stay, please have dinner.”

“I don’t want to get to know Julie.” You admit, pushing away and grabbing your panties and bra from where they were haphazardly thrown at the end of the bed.

When you come back from the bathroom he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, back in the shorts he was wearing. “This is awkward, I know… and I hate that this hurts you, and I know you know you said you wanted this. But I don’t think you counted on this. And that’s ok baby. I’m gonna be better, and if I’m not… then we can… we can call it quits. I think I needed to come to terms with the fact that that is a possibility. I love you, I’ll always love you. But maybe you’re right.”

“Yeah.” You nod. He looks at you and you wipe your eyes. You find your T-shirt and hoodie, and pull on your jeans before walking into the hallway and shutting the door behind you.

“Hey, you. Thought I saw your car outside.” Cal immediately wraps his arms around you. “Staying for dinner?”

“Wasn’t planning to.” You admit.

“What were you doing in Ash’s room?” He asks, redirecting you back to the living room.

“We were just…” you start.

“Ah, I see.” He nods, understanding.

“Cal?” Ash asks, walking out of his room, “I need to talk to you.”

“Of course, Ash, what’s up?”

“Alone.” He glances at you and then they disappear into the office together.

You overhear Ash’s manic tone, and Cal hushing him and telling him to stop being ridiculous.

“Of course you’re going to get back together, Ash stop this.” You hear Cal argue.

“No Calum, I need you to listen to me, I need you to take care of her. If we don’t get back together, I need you to promise me you’ll… you’ll be the one.”

You can hear Ashton crying. He thinks you aren’t getting back together.

“I’m not good enough for her.” He chokes out.

Someone knocks on the door and you know it must be Julie. “Baby, can you get that?” Cal calls to you.

“Sure.” You roll your eyes and walk to the door, you let Julie in, and immediately head back to the living room. Ash comes through, grabs Julie by the hand and drags her upstairs muttering about needing a shower.

“You want a drink?” Cal asks, wiping his face as he enters the room. “I know you heard, guess we should get used to each other.” He shrugs.

“Don’t need you to pity date me.” You chuckle, “but yes, a drink.”

“I’m not pity dating you… we’re getting married.” He gives his signature annoyed but not at you sass face and then pulls you to get a drink.

Julie comes down and rolls her eyes, “ya know Cal I wish you wouldn’t do that with him here.”

“Ya know Julie… it’s been a day and we both need this. Think we’ll be getting our own dinner too, so don’t include us on whatever you do.” Cal sneers.

Cal pours 2 of the strongest drinks he’s ever poured in his life and hands you one. “Bar?” You ask.

“Yes, let me grab my wallet.” Cal comes back out and he looks at you, “ready?”

You nod and Ash comes down, “you guys aren’t staying for dinner?” He asks, looking between the two of you.

Cal wraps his hand around yours, “we’re going on our first date… c’mon baby.” He rolls his eyes at Ashton and pulls you along. You guys get an Uber, which is fine with you because you planned on a liquid dinner anyway.

You and Cal return a little more than buzzed with a couple bags of food in hand, since you didn’t really eat. You find Ash and Julie cuddled on the couch together, making out. You mutter a “He fucked me earlier.” Into the room, and then follow Calum out back.

“You have to stay here.” He says as you both collapse in chairs out back. Cal digs through the bags of food and splits them up.

“I know.” You nod.

“Water? I’m getting us water. You can stay in my room.” He giggles.

“Ok!” You smile at him and take a bite of the In N Out burger in front of you. He hands you a bottle of water and Ash comes out back behind him.

“You guys want me to get better but you do shit like this in front of me?” He asks.

“Been a rough one mate.” Cal responds not caring to elaborate, “and it’s my house yeah? So if I want to get drunk with my friend, then I can do that. And this one…” He points to you. “Isn’t exactly having the time of her life right now, so if she needs a little break from reality, I’m inclined to let her have it.”

Ash rolls his eyes, “whatever. We’re going to bed.”

“K… don’t fuck her.” You smile.

“Don’t fuck him.” He sneers.

“You’re sending mixed signals now… you want me to marry him butttt you don’t wan me to fuck him?”

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” He waves you both off and goes to bed.

Cals got you in his bed, in one of his T-shirts, your both watching what he put on tv and his hand is just running soothingly up and down your back, under the T-shirt. You’re sniffling every few seconds because you’d heard moaning from Ash’s room when the two of you came upstairs.

“I hate him.” You whisper quietly.

“You don’t.” Cal whispers back. You pull the necklace with your rings on it off and hand it to Cal, he puts it in his nightstand drawer and he thinks he’ll keep it there until you ask for it back, because you will. You and Ash are ggetting back together, he’s sure of it.

“I wish I did.” You whisper, sniffling again.

“C’mere.” He coaxes, pulling you closer, into a hug.

You fall asleep that way, and when you wake up in the morning, you leave Cal in the bed. You find your clothes and your shoes, and head downstairs.

Ash is in the kitchen, you walk in looking for your bag. “Have a good night?” He asks, and you know there’s something in his tone. “I mean I know how you can be.”

“Don’t really love what your implying. But yeah, I spent half the night crying over you. It was fucking great. Fuck off Ash.” You give him the finger and walk out.

It’s another three months before you see Ash again, Cal’s at your house, multiple times a week until then.

You run into him at the grocery store.

“Hey, baby.” He smiles softly at you, gently grabbing your wrist as you pass by him in the produce.

“Oh… hey Ash.” You greet, you blow at the strands of hair in your eyes and he quickly swipes them and tucks them behind your ear for you.

“Hey. How’ve you been?” He asks.

You look around, “shitty.” You breathe, “I didn’t move on like you did.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah… I broke up with her. I’m pretty sure Cal was about to kick me out.”

“Yeah that sucks for you.” You bite sarcastically at him.

“Can we… have dinner or something? So we can talk. This isn’t…” He looks around, “the best place for this conversation.”

“Yeah, come by this week or something.” You wave him off as you walk away.

“Babe?” He calls. You stop and he catches up to you. “I love you, I really really do, and I’m sorry I was awful to you the last time we saw each other. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have taken you to bed like that. I shouldn’t have the first time either. I wasn’t ready for that. I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He admits.

“Not here, Ashton… Let me know when you’re coming by.” You shrug, and you push off.

Ashton shows up a few days later, he’s got a bouquet of flowers in hand, and he’s holding them in his left hand and you can see he’s wearing his wedding band again.

“Hey, baby.” He grins.

“Hey.” You take in his appearance as you let him in, and he looks good, you think he may have dressed up a bit for you.

He heads to the kitchen to get the flowers in a vase. “I know you don’t love flowers, but I also know you appreciate the sentiment.” He mentions. “I can cook something or we can order in. But I figured we’d eat and talk.” He says. He takes you in. “You look tired.” He mentions. “And you’re not wearing your rings.” He looks concerned, briefly.

“Um.” You squeeze your ring finger and grab for the necklace that you weren’t wearing. “I’m exhausted. Been working a lot. I took on a few extra projects, making sure I could keep our house payments up to date.” You shrug. “I think they’re at Cal’s.” You finish.

“Am I not giving you enough?” He asks.

“You’ve missed the last two payments Ash.” You say matter of factly.

“Fuck. Babe, I’m sorry. We’ve been in the studio. I just… I don’t have an excuse.” He admits. “Um, here I’ll transfer some now.” He pulls out his phone.

“How’s the new stuff?” You ask.

He looks up at you once he’s done, and your phone dings and you check it and see the transfer is completed. “It’s good. Ya know, we’re developing something new. There’s a lot of tension in the studio too, we’ve always had alcohol around and now we just don’t, you know? And I know it’s for my benefit but I feel like the other three or at least Luke and Cal are annoyed at that.”

“Oh really? You don’t think it has anything to do with the fact that you and I haven’t spoken in 3 months and that’s what bothers them?” You ask.

He stops what he’s doing, going through the fridge and the cabinets, and turns to look at you. “You said your rings were at Cal’s?”

“Yeah I took em off the night I heard you with Julie. Cal… he put em somewhere.” You shrug.

“We didn’t… I promised you, and I meant it; we didn’t have sex babe.”

“Well I know what your moans sound when your dick is in someone as opposed to when your dick is in a mouth or hand.” You roll your eyes.

“I know you don’t have any reason to trust what I’m saying but I said it then, and I still mean it now, i made my vows to you and we are technically still together, I will not do that to you.” He sighs. “I rushed back into things with you, because I love you, and I’m comfortable with you. And I just… I wanted to feel like you were proud of me again… And like you could be around me again, because I know you couldn’t. And that’s all my fault and I know that… it was wrong of me to ask Cal… well you know I what I asked him.” He comes around the counter to stand in front of you, “I really truly mean that I want to be us again, and I’m doing everything in my power to make the changes I need for you to see that. And you are absolutely right, my own band doesn’t want to deal with me because I’ve alienated you, and I’ve hurt you beyond belief. I’ve destroyed all of the relationships that are important to me. I’ve destroyed us. Fuck… if you want the divorce… I’ll fuckin give it to you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I never wanted this for you.” He wipes his hand over his face.

“In one breath you say how much you still want me and in the next you say you’ll give me the divorce if I want.” You say quietly.

“Because I don’t know what’s best for you.” It comes out louder than expected. He’s exasperated.

You stare at him for about 5 minutes before you just engulf him in your arms. He’s taken aback, for sure, but he hugs you back.

“That’s maybe the most honest thing you’ve said to me in 3 and a half years, Ash.” You say against his shoulder.

You let Ash stay, and he orders food for you both and you both just sit and talk. And it’s honest conversation where he tells you his fears and his new aspirations for himself, and for the two of you.

“I want a family, but I’m terrified I won’t be a good father, and I could literally go anywhere and get anyone pregnant but you’re my partner and I can’t imagine doing something like that with anyone else. You are the love of my life, but I’m terrified I’ve damaged that beyond repair with all of this, and I realize that it’s all been me babe, and I spent so long trying to find ways to blame you, and I pushed you so far away. I don’t blame you. I wanted to, and at the end of the day, I can’t. You loved me, you supported me… as long as you could.” Ash starts crying, and it wasn’t his “you caught me” cry that you’d been used to seeing, it was an honest type of cry, he really was feeling it all.

You just reach out and touch his hand, because you don’t really know what to say, you grip it, and he rests his other one on top and grips it as well. “Ash… were gonna have a lot of rebuilding before I’ll trust you enough to do that.” You admit.

“I know babe.” He nods, “I’m honestly gonna do whatever it takes, and I mean it this time.”

“I can’t wait to see what that looks like.” You admit. “But I’m tired Ash, and I’ve got a long day tomorrow. I’ve got some client meetings.”

“Ok. Well can you come by Cal’s on Friday and I’ll make us dinner?” He asks, standing up and starting to clear the dishes.

“Um, yeah, I can do that. I’m supposed to have dinner with Cal and Luke on Saturday. So, that’s fine.”

“Oh, yeah they said they were going out; didn’t say you were going though.” He mentions, rinsing the dishes.

“I, uh… I asked them not to.”

“Why’s that?” He looks over his shoulder at you.

“I didn’t want you knowing what I was up to. I didn’t want to chance you knowing where I was, so you could make an appearance. I was… I still am, actually, pretty upset with you from the last time I saw you.”

“Completely understandable.” He dries hands and leans against the sink.

“You keep saying you know that I’d never with Cal, but you imply it whenever you can. And I don’t know what to make of that.” You start picking at your nails. “But it pisses me off because I’ve never done anything to make you think I’d consider cheating on you for even a second. Even with all the shit you’ve put me through.”

“I know babe. It’s all I had. And that’s not an excuse, I know.” He crosses back over to you, and he kisses your forehead. “I’ll see you in a couple days, yeah?” He asks.

“Sure, Ash. Dinner on Friday.” You agree.

“Have a good night babe. And a good day at work. Also, you can stop taking on extra projects. I’ll make sure I get the payments to you on time. Or you can just text me.”

“Ok.” You nod. You walk him to the door and he hugs you briefly, and kisses your cheek. “Have a good night Ash.”

“Bye baby.” He says. You watch as he descends the steps and goes to his car, and he looks back at you, like he did the first time he dropped you off after a date, like you’d be the only one for him.

It’s another month of strained dinner and coffee dates before you really start to think about trusting him again. He seems to be putting real effort in, instead of phoning it in and only telling you what you want to hear. He’s being honest and letting you know when he’s struggling.

It’s late one night, about a month and half in and he’s calling. You pick up the phone. “Ash?” Because he doesn’t call much and you know it was a studio day.

“Can you come to the studio. Mitchy showed and you were right not to trust him.” He sighs, “please baby?” He asks.

“Um, yeah, Ash, I can. Send me the address.” You agree.

You quickly pull on one of the hoodies left in his side of the closet, and a pair of boots and then head out.

You text Ash when your close and he’s waiting outside and he looks stressed. “Hey.” You greet, getting out of the car.

“Thanks for coming. I’m so sorry to call so late, but…” He starts.

“Ash, it’s no problem. I’m happy to be here for you.” You say.

“Can you come in and stay awhile?” He asks.

“Of course.” You nod.

Ash grabs your hand and pulls you inside, and Cal, Luke and Mike seem relieved to see you.

“Shouldn’t you be at home with your new baby?” You ask, hugging Mike.

“Wife’s tired of me. So I’m back at the studio.” He squeezes you. “Glad you’re here. He needs you.” He whispers.

“Luke!” You grin, hugging him.

“You need to hear some of this new stuff baby.” Cal says, wrapping his arms around you next.

“Mmm, I’d love too.” You wave to the producers, and then Mitchy walks back in as you make yourself comfortable next to Ash on a couch.

“Hey you.” He greets with a big smile.

“Hey Mitchy.” You give him a hi five.

“Didn’t know you were gonna be here.” He grins.

“Uh, yeah. I just had to finish up some work.” You shrug. Ash rests his hand on your thigh and you wrap your arm around his and rest your hand on top of his, resting your head against his shoulder. You guys hadn’t really kissed again yet, he was waiting until you were fully comfortable with him again. But he kissed the top of your head.

“Wait wait… play her….” Luke points to something on the screen. “Play that.”

The song fills the speakers, and you can tell that Luke and Ash are super proud of it. Cals got a funky bass line on it that you instantly love.

They go through about four songs and you can tell they are all gauging your reaction because you’ve always been honest about what you liked and didn’t.

The fifth one starts and it’s a little slower, and Ash actually starts the vocals, “no no, don’t play her this one.” He says.

“Yeah it’s not right yet.” Cal instantly agrees and reaches over to stop it.

You stay for a few hours and Ash doesn’t let Mitchy corner him anywhere, even going so far as to go with Cal to the bathroom. He stays close to you. “Do you wanna go home? Did you ride with Cal?” You ask, as they’re taking a break.

“Yeah I did.” He nods. “I think I can stick it out, I see you’re tired.”

“Do you… would you wanna come home with me tonight?” You ask.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. We’re not gonna have sex, but I dunno, might be nice to share a bed.” You shrug, now looking at your shoes and not making eye contact.

“Babe, i'd love to. Lemme tell Cal, and we can leave.” Cal walks by, returning from a smoke break, “Hey, I’m gonna go home.” Ash announces.

“You rode with me.” Cal states.

“He’s gonna come to my place.” You say.

“Oh… yeah, go man.” He nods. “I’ll tell the guys.” He quickly wraps an arm around you, “don’t be a stranger baby, come back anytime.” He kisses the side of your head.

“I will, thanks Cal.” You laugh.

“Take care of my boy.”

“Always.” You nod.

“Ash, take care of our best girl.” He grins.

Ash rolls his eyes. “Ok Cal, got it.” You hand Ash the keys, letting him drive back to your house. “Means a lot you came when I needed you.” He mentions.

“Of course Ash.” You nod, resting your hand on his thigh.

“And in my clothes no less. Sight for sore eyes.” He smiles warmly at you.

“It’s what I wanted to wear.” You agree.

“Yeah, but you haven’t wanted to wear anything of mine for awhile, so it’s nice to see.”

“That’s fair, Ash…. hey can we stop and get food?”

“Absolutely. Haven’t eaten since like 6 myself.” He chuckles.

You guys get food and take it home to eat together. “It’s a nice night for the hot tub.” He mentions. The weather was getting a little colder, it being late fall now.

“I suppose it is.” You agree.

“Want to?” He asks, already pulling you to your bedroom to change.

“Sure.” You dig around and find matching pieces.

He finds his black shorts and pulls them on, and you grab a couple towels to dry off with. He pulls you back down stairs and you pull your hair back as he turns the jets on. “This night is already worth leaving the studio for.”

“Remember when all our nights were worth leaving the studio for?” You grin, getting in the hot tub.

Ash crossed the small space to sit next to you, “of course I do.” He grins. His lips press gently to your neck. “I remember leaving anything to be with you was always worth it.”

You look at him a minute and then lean in to kiss him. Very briefly, your lips meet and you pull back, gauging him.

“I’m glad you made the first move.” He whispers. “Makes me feel like it’s the step you’re ready for with me, like you trust me again.”

“You calling me tonight, because Mitchy was there, makes me feel like I can trust you again. At least a little bit.”

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks. You nod and he holds your face. He leans in and kisses you and you let him deepen it.

And then youre letting hormones get the best of you and you’re climbing in his lap. You’re hands stay on his shoulders and he holds your waist. And you slowly press your body’s together, slowly grinding your hips down on him. “Baby.” He groans into the kiss.

“Ash? You want me to stop?” You ask, pulling away slightly.

“No, never.” He presses his lips to yours, “do you want something else? I can cum from this at this point.” He leans in and whispers against your ear, “my princess need my fingers?”

You lean in and kiss him, and then pull back slightly, biting his lip, “Yes, daddy, need your fingers.” You whisper back.

Ash moves your bottoms out of the way, and he gently pushes 2 fingers in and presses his thumb against your clit, you continue to roll your hips, effectively riding his fingers and getting him off at the same time.

You and Ash shower, he was less embarrassed than you thought he’d be, but then again, it was a pretty nice compliment to make your man cum without touching him.

He was just happy you let him in the shower with you, and you’d gotten to make out a while longer. He offers to sleep in a guest room but you ask him to stop being ridiculous.

His head is on your shoulder, as you lay in bed, his hand gently running over your body. He tucks his hand into the waistband of your sleep shorts, he knows your not wearing any panties because he watched you get dressed in his t shirt and sleep shorts. “Think I know what I’m having for breakfast.” He grins.

You look at the clock and then back at him, “only if breakfast is after 1.” You agree, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckles, pulling his hand out of your shorts, letting it rest on your lower stomach.

And he did not disappoint, when you got a look at the clock it was after 1:30, and when you look down, you can see sleepy eyed Ashton enjoying you. His lips and tongue are teasing you. “Morning sweetheart.” He grins at you, letting his fingers sink in.

“Fuck.” You moan. He brings you to orgasm on his fingers, mouth sucking your clit. He sits up and grins, proud of himself. “I married you because of the way you do that.” You grin at him.

“I know.” He winks, and then presses his lips to the inside of your leg.

He shifts closer to you as he kisses down your thigh and you feel he’s hard, “Want me to…”

“No baby, you deserve a lot of worshipping before you really need to think about me.” He explains. “I’ll live with this, but I’m gonna make you breakfast.”

He pushes your T-shirt up, as his lips push up your stomach, and then his hard on his poking you through his underwear, right at your core, as his body is flush against you while he kisses you.

His hips are rocking against you, before you know, “baby? This ok?” He asks, knowing he’s getting a little further than he intended.

“You better not stop.” You warn, hooking one leg around his hip.

It used to be like this when you first got together, you were both insatiable for each other. There were a lot of mornings filled with this exact type of behavior, him not wanting to have sex, because of how long it’d take but still finding a way to please you before he had to run off to the studio.

Ash is barely holding on, and you decide to tease him a little to tip him over the edge, you nibble his ear, “gonna cum baby?” You say softly, threading your fingers in his hair. “I’m going to, so good Ash.”

“Fuuuuuck.” He groans. His hips hit hard into yours a few more times and then you feel the warmth of his cum spreading in his underwear.

“Feel good baby?” You ask, gently running your fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, fuck. I swear you’re the only one who’s made me cum in my pants since I was like, 15.” He groans against your neck. He moves his hips back a little and then rests his chin on your chest, and watches you as his fingers find your clit and start to rub, “since you’re so close as well.” He’s got a devious look in his eye.

“Fuck, Ash.” You moan, as he brings you to your second orgasm.

“I miss mornings like these.” He admits, laying next to you. “I need a shower.” He groans, pulling at the waistband of his underwear.

“Take me with you.” You grin at him.

“Yes, Princess.” He’s up and hoisting you over his shoulder, hand landing a couple smacks to your bare ass. You squeal and then he sets you down in the bathroom and pulls the shirt over your head, tossing it and his underwear in the dirty clothes basket. You watch as he picks the perfect temperature for the shower and pulls you in with him.

Cal’s in your kitchen, making coffee.

“Hey Cal.” You greet, hair still wet.

Ashton is in right after you, “Hey Cal.”

You knew by looking at Cal, he’d picked up on the fact that you were both freshly showered.

“What brings you over?” You ask, getting a glass of water.

“Well I came over to make sure no one was dead because neither of you answered your phones.” He explains.

“Stop being dramatic.” Ashton laughs.

“Listen if I’d’ve known I was interrupting something, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Who said you’re interrupting anything?” You smirk.

“Well I’m not stupid, for starters, you’re both freshly showered, and you both must think I’m deaf if I didn’t hear the grunting and moaning when I walked in 20 minutes ago. Heard ya both finish.” He smirks.

Ash reaches for your, “Well in that case.” He pulls you in and kisses you hard. He pushes his forehead to yours, “babe.”

The two of you are sitting at Cal’s on the couch, watching tv. You’re next to each other. His hand finds your thigh, “I want to talk to you about something.” He mentions. You turn your body to face him and nod, “I wanna come home.” He reaches for your hand, “and I want to be very clear about this, we… maybe… I’d like us to get counseling. I know I want a family’s but I know you’re not ready to trust me like that.” He sighs, “but I want you to know I’m willing to put the effort in.”

You nod, “yeah Ash, I think we could make that work.”

“And I love you. I really, truly, love you.” He adds quietly. “I meant it when I said you’re the only one.” Ash is fiddling with something, and he finally shows you, he’s got your rings. “Would you marry me again?” He asks.

You nod, and wipe at your eyes and the forming tears. Ash grabs your left hand and slips your rings back where they belong. “Think you can drop a few good lines and I’m just gonna fall into bed?” You chuckle, letting him know you mean it as a joke. “I love you too Ash. I meant every word of my vows. And I’m ok to let you back home, but I want to work on us before we think about a family.” You place your hand on top of his.

“But someday?” He asks, tentatively.

“That was always the plan. You’re going to be a great father someday, but I just don’t see that day being anytime soon.” You nod.

“That’s ok.” He agrees. You’re both quiet for a bit, “so I’m coming home, we’re going to counseling and you’re staying on the pill?”

“Yeah.” You agree, smiling at him.

“I’m all in baby.” He grins.

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