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curiouser--and--curiouser · 2 years

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Staring into the Flames

Ashton Greymoore x Reader

Summary: Ashton loses his shit when you get injured.

Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, gender-neutral pronouns, raging Ashton, injured!reader.

Warnings: swearing, violence, descriptions of injuries.

Word Count: 3.8k words

A/N: Time for some Critical Role content, because I'm a raging nerd. And I'm in love with Taliesin Jaffe. God, all his characters give me such gender envy! Also, for context, this is written in the wake of c3e33, so I need comfort from the trauma 😭 Anyway, enjoy my beautiful punk rock babe <3

Watching Ashton Greymoore have emotions was one of your favourite things to do.

Sounds strange, I know – borderline creepy maybe – but you just found him so fascinating. Everything Ashton would ever do was based entirely off impulse. He wanted to steal some random arcane item he knew he would never use? Done. Rile up that complete stranger just because they didn’t like their hat? Did it last Tuesday. Take you off on a completely random unplanned date right to the top of the Lantern spire just because they wanted to? Absolutely.

All these impulse actions were based off impulse thoughts and impulse emotions; emotions that he feels so fucking strongly. I mean, just look at the destructive power his anger and rage can bring upon his foes in a fight (you do look, you look very hard…). Their feelings swirl like the kaleidoscope shining from their head, and you found it simply hypnotising to watch those feelings spread across his body. You could watch the cogs turn in Ashton’s brain for hours, seeing each new emotion spread across his body like lava.

One of your favourites was the slow realisation that you had stolen permanently borrowed something of theirs: a certain red and black jacket, perhaps. They would be rummaging around their room, thinking they’ve gone mad because they could swear they left it right here. Evidently they were too dead asleep that morning to notice you slipping out of the bedroom, the jacket claimed for yourself. Eventually, he would come bounding into the main room of the Crook House, finding Milo tinkering away at their latest project, and you lounging in a chair wearing his most prized item of clothing. It would take a minute for him to even notice what you were wearing. “Y/N, where in the fuck is my j-“. There we go. You got to sit back and enjoy as the realisation of your thievery spread through his body like a wave on the shore, every one of his stance and posture and facial expressions each slowly changing down throughout him. It was captivating. Although not for too long as soon a smirk rose to Ashton’s face before they were barrelling at you, you both tumbling onto the floor in a mock fight to win the grand prize of the jacket, as Milo looked on with a smile and a shake of their head at these idiots in love.

Oh yeah, in love. So in love. Which thankfully was reciprocated on both ends. It had, in fact, been your staring that had helped get you together. Subtly wasn’t your strong suit - sure you could sneak into Ashton’s room silent and assassin-like without him noticing, but you weren’t as skilled at hiding how much you just stared at him, getting lost in every single part of the earth genasi. And… they noticed. Luckily, Ashton had also been pretty enraptured by you over the past couple of weeks, meeting pretty frequently on jobs as both colleagues and rivals. So, Ashton’s impulses being Ashton’s impulses, they walked right up to you after one of said jobs and asked you out right on the spot.

“Angel, I could feel your eyes on me for the last three hours, wanna go get a drink so I can return the favour?”

Of course, you said yes, and from then on you have been pretty much inseparable. You now lived at the Crook House and could now stare all you liked. And so could he. He really did. God he’d do anything for you. You were the best thing to have come into his life and he was not about to let you go any time soon.

Definitely not today.

Today, you two, for once, weren’t together; you had some things to buy in the market and Ashton had to go for one of their many strange meetings with Jiana Hexum. So, you walked through Elder’s Post, pushing through the hordes of tradespeople and customers alike, keeping your coin purse close to your side away from any thieves lurking. You had already picked up some food for the household plus some bits and pieces of metal Milo wanted for Fresh Cut Grass’s repairs, and then you moved onto the trickier task: healing potions. They were pretty essential, especially given how much you two got hurt on jobs, particularly Ashton - gods, he got beaten up a lot - and, sure, you could ask FCG for help, but you didn’t want to overwork them. Sadly, your group weren’t exactly rolling in cash so, shall we say, less reputable vendors of potions had to be your main source.

This included one particularly awful man, Rackoth. He was a leering, lecherous man, spindly and towering over most people. He was also a swindler with prices way too high for substandard potions at best. Both you and Ashton had had run-ins with him in the past and nearly none of them ended well. Unfortunately, all your other sellers were out and you were in a bind - FCG was undergoing some internal repairs with Milo at the moment, and so was largely out of action. Hence, you had to grit your teeth and bare Rackoth and his usual ways. His sunken, hollow eyes bore into your soul as he offered up some wildly off-colour “healing potions” at some astronomical price. Usually, you would try to keep your cool and try in earnest to haggle him down, but after one too many not at all innocent placements of his bony hands on your waist, you had had enough. You smacked his hand out the way hard and snapped back at him, calling him out on his extortionate business (and maybe also insulting his mother in Deep Speech - honestly, you can’t quite remember, it was all a blur). Suddenly, you felt a burn across your cheek as Rackoth punched you with a force you never expected from the scrawny man. You stumbled back in shock, but he launched forward to meet you, gripping you by the neck. You could feel his jagged nails biting at your skin as he roared at you to never return to his shop again, throwing you down onto the ground after he was done. The customers around you all gave strange looks as you picked yourself and your belongings up, no healing potions in hand, and carried your hurt pride home with you to the Crook House.

Mercifully, you found the house to be still and silent when you arrived. You were safe in your own home at last. The adrenaline of the altercation wore off and a few tears fell from your eyes. As you wiped them away, you noticed blood smeared across your fingers, from your injuries presumably, so you trudged your way with a sigh into your and Ashton’s room to clean yourself up. You passed a mirror as you walked down the hall, finally seeing the extent of your injuries with a groan: thick red blood dripped down the side of your face, matting your hair, and purple was starting to bloom around your eye from the punch. You winced as you lifted your chin seeing more purple marks at the top of your neck along with five punctures to your skin from Rackoth’s nails leaking a small trail of blood. With a turn, you saw the muddied and scuffed back of your jacket from your fall and emitted a groan in pain as you turned slightly too far. Your back would be black and blue in the morning thanks to your impact onto the cold stone ground. Honestly, you’ve looked better.

Gritting your teeth, you collected your strength and pushed on into your bedroom, but almost screamed as you were met by the sight of your partner sprawled on the bed counting coins from a leather pouch. He wasn’t meant to be back yet.

“Hey, Angel, you’ll never guess the fucking bonus we got from Jiana for that extra information. She was fucking thrilled-“. Ashton stopped as his eyes fell on you.

In any other circumstances, this would’ve been a beautiful show.

The swirling colours in the glass in Ashton’s head seemed to almost speed up and spark out as their mind processed your injured form before them. He blinked slowly as his piercing eyes scanned over you, searching for the answer… there. His beaming smile dropped into one of concern as his eyes widened to the size of saucers. He breathed out a quiet “what the fuck?” in disbelief, before he suddenly took off, scrambling off the bed with zero coordination, but zero care for anything except you. Ashton stood on (and probably broke) most of their belongings as they ran over to you, immediately bringing his firm, calloused hands to your body as he checked you over. His eyes burnt a hole through your clothes with their intensity as he examined every single part of your body for more injuries - worry was the only emotion in him now. Ashton’s searing gaze on your body was usually a very good feeling, but you could see the bubbling anger low in him.

“Hey, Ash, I’m not dying!” You said with a pitiful attempt at a chuckle, trying to laugh off your injuries and put your boyfriend at ease. “I’m okay, really.” He clearly didn’t believe you as his roaming stare continued, logging in his mind everything he saw. His finger and thumb gripped your chin as he brought it up, inspecting the bruising to your neck, breathing out in disbelief. Rising their gaze to your face, Ashton gently prodded the bloody wound on your head with shaking hands. You pulled back slightly with a hiss of pain and that anger in him rose. Someone had hurt you. Red leaked into his eyes like a poison as they narrowed and focused on your own, still brimming with unshed tears. Already impossibly close, he took a step forward, towering over you, noses almost touching and hands coming back to your face. The delicate way he cradled your face in his large hands almost shocked you, the softness of his movements contrasting his hard, rocky palms. One thumb gently brushed away a stray tear on your cheek, both hands trembling as they grasped onto you.

“Who did this to you?” Ashton spoke so softly so that no one but you could here, but with so much menace for whoever the fuck thought they could touch you. Any attempt at him concealing his anger failed as it seeped through every pore in his body, every cell almost vibrating independently, ready for a fight.

“Ashton, really, it’s ok,” you counter again, trying to calm that fury in them that made you love them so much.

“No, it’s fucking not, who was it?”

“Ashton, it’s really not important-“

“Y/N.” He was firm. Final. You sighed before looking down slightly in defeat.

“Rackoth,” you breathed out.

“What. The Fuck. Did he do?” Ashton enunciated every single word, so slowly, so precise.

You stumbled over your words for a minute as you felt his gaze on you. He did deserve to know. That and the tiredness in your soul made all the words come tumbling out.

“I was getting healing potions because you’ve got that big job for Hexum coming up, and Milo is working on FCG and - shit! Letters needs a break sometimes! – but all our usual guys were out so I had to go to Rackoth. But that bastard stuck his prices up again. And they barely looked like healing potions - fuck me, Ashton, our bath water has more healing properties than that shit! And I was just so pissed off and. And... h-h-he had his hand on my waist and I just wanted to rip my skin off so I pushed him off and shouted at him and his potions and maybe his mother in Deep Speech? So he punched me. And grabbed my neck. And through me down. So yeah…” You stood in silence for a few seconds, taking a breath after your outburst, before you raised your head again to watch Ashton…

Now, here came the rage.

Ashton’s back straightened to an even higher height than before; every bone in their body tensed into a sharp point with their fists, now by their side, clenching, nearly popping joints. Their teeth clacked together in a bite, bared and ready to rip the throat out of the culprit of this heinous crime. The mesmerising colours beneath the glass in his skull seemed to swirl faster, getting brighter and brighter, threatening to violently burst free into chaos. The anger was white hot now, bleeding from his eyes and dripping down every tort muscle to a pool at his feet. A deep snarl sounded at the back of their throat, animalistic and ready to hunt.

“That piece of shit,” Ashton yelled out incredulously. “Fuck! That lanky piece of shit! That fucker’s going down!“ They had never sounded so serious in all their life. And so you needed to take action.

“Ashton. Babe! It’s okay, just leave him he’s not worth it.” Yet, it was not okay, and he was not paying attention. Like a flash, Ashton was at the bedroom door and screaming out.

“Oi, Grass! Grass! Where the shit are you?”

“They’re powered down. Ashton, don’t worry-“

“Argh, fuck!” they shouted, now moving at pace throughout your shared room. Trinkets and knickknacks alike were tossed around - no, thrown around - as Ashton scrambled from place to place at lightning speed, searching for something unknown. He grunted as he rummaged even further; you simply stood in the centre of the room, slightly startled by your partner’s sudden burst of movement. Eventually, with a cheer of triumph, from under a pile of multicoloured fabric he pulled out a slightly dusty red vial. Despite the slight discolouration, it was clearly a healing potion long forgotten and Ashton was soon back in front of you, pulling the cork out.

“Wait, no, I don’t need that,” you protested, “Ashton, you need these a lot more than I-“. You were cut off by Ashton shoving the neck of the bottle right into your mouth mid-sentence. The glass clinked against your teeth at the force as Ashton tipped the bottom of the bottle up, pouring the entire potion down your neck. You gagged as the bitter liquid hit the back of your throat. For all the difficulty of drinking the healing potion, it did thankfully begin to help you, like water refreshing you after wandering the dessert for a month. A dull ache passed through each of your injuries as the skin started to knit back together, eventually leaving no trace of ever tarnishing you but the now drying blood. You spent maybe five seconds checking over your body and by the time you looked up again, Ashton already had his trusty glass hammer clutched tightly in his hand. You had one last chance to stop him.

“Ashton, please, just stay here with me. You kill him and you’ll get caught and then gods know what will happen to you!” You pleaded to them, grabbing their arm, not wanting any more trouble for the day.

“Angel, I regret to inform you that I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Ashton growled lowly. “If that bitch thinks he can touch you and get away with it, he’s got another fucking thing coming.” He grasped the side of your head softly again, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be back soon,” he whispered and rose to place an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on your forehead, before sprinting out of the room, one mission on his mind.

And there you were left, alone, staring off at the space your sparking barbarian once stood.

Even in times like this, he was beautiful to watch.

A singular tear rose in your eyes and fell as your exhaustion battled with new anxiety for Ashton’s safety. Of course you enjoyed your mountain of a boyfriend sweeping in to beat down those who had wronged you – I mean, who wouldn’t? – but your dear Ashton also had a tendency of not being the subtlest creature in the world. Sure his mystic colourful powers could occasionally let him pass through like a ghost, but not always. Frequently, they could be found in a fight, on the run from a fight, or on their arse thrown out for being in a fight. But they were just silly bar fights; this was personal. You just didn’t want him in trouble and it would bite away at you until he was back in your arms, safe.

However, predictably, exhaustion won out and you soon fought yourself flat out on the bed, still caked in your own blood, but no energy in your waking spirit to clean yourself up.

The next – how long had it been? – was spent in a daze, maybe sleeping, maybe just staring off, disassociating from the stresses of the day. Until Ashton emerged back through your door with a slam, sprayed slightly with blood that did not look like his own. You didn’t raise your head from the pillow, still waking from your haze, but you watched through glassy eyes as Ashton quietly placed down his trusty hammer in the corner of the room, slipped off his boots and padded over to you. He gently perched on the side of the bed and reached a calloused hand down to stroke your hair. His fingers were so tender and threaded through, caressing your scalp, almost sending you back to sleep. Gazing up at them, you saw the same intensity as before flooding their eyes, but this time the rage was gone, now replaced with so much love. Everything Ashton did carried that fire, that passion, but it always moulded itself into new shapes and forms, sometimes surprising even you. That’s probably what drew you too him, that fire, always burning bright out of every pore on his tough skin; no matter what he did or felt, it was always with such ferocious and intensity that you couldn’t look away, only stare further into the flames. But they never burnt you. They caressed you, held you, protected you at all costs. Not always in the safest of ways, but the intention was good and pure.

Ashton softly smiled at you and, without looking, reached back to find a (vaguely) clean cloth and started to dab at the dried blood along the side of your face. You stayed perfectly still, letting him work, enjoying this rarely seen quiet Ashton. They cleaned you up surprisingly well despite this not being their forte, moving from your face down to the marks on your neck, doing their slightly clumsy best, trying to remember the kinds of actions FCG would perform when in cleric-mode.

When all the dark red streaks had gone from upon your skin, Ashton placed down the cloth, but kept their hand cupped around your face. You threaded your own fingers with his and looked up.

“You get him?” you whispered.

“Yeah, I got him,” Ashton replied, just as softly.

A rush of emotions took over you all of a sudden: the relief that that fucking man who touched you so horribly had been dealt with, the pain of your whole bloody ordeal, the adoration you felt for your soft punk rock who cared for you so well, even in the ways he was not as accustomed to. You choked, more hot tears running down your cheeks. Ashton immediately bundled you up into their strong arms and held you in a tight hug against his chest.

“Aww fuck, Angel. Okay, okay, come here,” they cooed into your ear as your cries muffled into the leather of their jacket. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” And you believed every word of it. You grasped onto them like a lifeline with heavy and shaking breaths as you slowly pulled yourself back from the brink with his help.

“You okay now?” Ashton asked after a while and you nodded looking up through your eyelashes from your place on his lap.

“Shit, I’m sorry did that, Y/N. Fuck, I was just so fucking angry! I don’t care about a lot of things, but, goddamn, I care a lot about you. And I never wanna to see you like that again. I’ll do anything to make sure you don’t.” Ashton poured his heart out to you, his brutal honestly always hitting you right in the heart. You sat up and pressed your lips to his in a passionate kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed as you gripped onto each other like you were the last things left in Exandria. The kiss deepened as your tongues slid across each other, tracing the other’s lips and swallowing their sighs. You pulled away for breath, but remained trapped in Ashton’s warm grasp, as he continued his assault of kisses over your cheeks. They came to rest soon, forehead pressed together with yours, soft eyes staring into yours in peace.

“Fuck, I love you, Angel,” Ashton murmured, his love and devotion towards you on display for all the world to see.

“I love you too, Ash,” you whispered back with a beaming smile. Ashton gave you one more quick peck before he shifted his position, lying down on the bed with you remaining on top of him, still encased in his arms. You both laid there in silence, listening to the other’s heartbeat, until Ashton spoke, brushing the hair out of your eyes.

“What was that you said before about Deep Speech?” they asked and you giggled at his curiosity.

“I may or may not have insulted Rackoth’s mother… in Deep Speech,” you admitted shyly as Ashton’s eyes widened.

“That’s so cool. Wait, how do you know Deep Speech? Who are you?” they marvelled at your admission as you sniggered. “What did you say? Like in Deep Speech.” You repeated the deep grinding growls you had shouted at Rackoth and your partner’s jaw dropped.

“Okay, that’s hot, please talk to me more in Deep Speech,” you laughed out loud at Ashton’s antics (and remembered that information for later…). “I wish I’d brought you with me now. It was fucking great seeing him scared. Shit, I robbed you of your revenge quest, didn’t I?” Ashton carried on rambling, clearly having enjoyed being your knight in shining armour. Note to self: ask them later what they actually did to Rackoth…

“I swear to the gods if you said ‘Smiley fuckin’ day!’ just before knocking him out, I’m breaking up with you,” you joked. Ashton held a hand to his heart in mock hurt and tickled you away from your non-injured body parts as you cackled.

Your old friend exhaustion soon popped back up again as you let out a yawn, burrowing yourself further into Ashton’s body, nuzzling into his neck. His arms hugged you closer.

“Get some rest, love, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You took their advice, letting your dreams overtake you, staring at the one you loved most until your eyes eventually closed.

Ashton would protect you. They always will. Come what may.

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kinkymjolnir · 4 months

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friends, how do we feel about a fanfiction with the "im lying through my teeth to hurt you right now because i need you to be as far away from me as possible or i will end up getting you hurt and i just can't take that" trope? this is about callowmoore btw. i might be in my phone notes rn writing something

#critical role #callowmoore #ashton greymoore #cr #fearne calloway #fearne calloway x ashton greymoore #cr 3 #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3

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mommymilkersmac-n-cheese · 8 months

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Can’t wait for the fics about the group actually noticing Ashton’s panic attack. Craving that sweet sweet Ashton angst hurt/comfort chronic pain oml.

#critical role #ashton greymoore #laudna #bells hells #critical role campaign 3 #criticalrolespoilers #orym of the air ashari #imogen temult #chetney pock o'pea #cr fcg #fearne calloway #orym x ashton #Ashton’s my favorite can you tell?#ashton my beloved #critical role fanfiction

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railroad-migraine · 7 months

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Hey Poet ♥️ I had to put my bird and companion of 12 years to sleep earlier today... I was hoping it would be okay to request Molly, Kingsley, Ashton and Caduceus comforting a Ranger SO (friend in Cad’s case) who had their beast companion pass away? I hope it’s not too grim of a prompt, thanks a lot either way! And thank you for what you do, your lovely writing brings joy to many people :)

Oh darling I'm so sorry. We also recently had a family pet put to sleep and it is very hard, but know that you provided your lil friend a wonderful life and that's something to make it easier as time passes 🩶

Comforting Ranger!GN!Reader

Ashton 💚

Is the shoulder to cry on that you've always needed. They're a strong presence, someone reliable to lean on, something physical and real to keep you grounded and help you not lose yourself in feelings.

They say they have difficulty with words, but Ashton surprises even himself with the soft tone and even softer things he offers you. Little phrases of encouragement, of how things will get better, and how you're not going to carry this alone. You have him and friends who care about you - he ignores the hot feeling in his face when your teary eyes meet his upon the confession - and pulls you into their side with a soft "I got you."

Caduceus 💜

Arguably the best person on the list to console you after losing someone you held dear. If it's something you'd like, he'll organise a little ceremony - allow memories of the good and fun moments shared with your companion to take centre stage. It's a happy occasion, with friends in attendance, a celebration of their life, their love, and how they made a home in your heart.

Cad takes time out of his day to sit with you, share tea and treats and the quiet tranquility of his porch, content to give you silent support but even more eager to offer counsel if that's what you seek. He understands how you're feeling, and guides you through them with careful, attentive ease.

Molly 💜

He knows what it's like to mourn a life, be that of a friend's or the past that he will never truly know. He makes sure that as you're processing this change in your life, that you continue to look after yourself. He ensures that you eat, even if you don't feel hungry. He washes your hair and cleans your face, helps you change into fresh clothes, coaxes you outdoors to feel warm sunlight on your skin. He wants to remind you to keep living, to enjoy it just as your pet beast did.

Life moves on. It always will. Your animal came into your life unexpectedly, just as you came into Molly's life. He's there for you, to get you through the day, the week, the month, and beyond. It happens gradually, as all wounds heal, but eventually he sees you smile at him more and he knows it hurts a little less. He smiles back, all teeth and pride for you.

Kingsley 💜

He's still discovering the big emotions that come with experiencing life. Grief is one of them. He fumbles in the beginning, and is scared to say anything in the fear of hurting you further, but he feels more confident after you melt into his arms and let him hold you for who knows how long. He realises later that a distraction can help further along healing.

So that's what Kingsley does. He spends more time with you, takes you sailing and has you steer the ship (with his professional supervision of course). He drags you into dances along the desk and sings you songs before bed. He holds your hand as you fall asleep, and tells you how grateful he is that you're there with him. Thanks you for giving him that - just as you have your familiar that.

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saphirered · 5 months

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I saw your autumn/winter prompts

It’d be cool for you to do some fluff with Ashton for either cold nights or thunder and lightning

Love your stuff!!!

More prompt requests incoming! 😘

Miserable. This weather feels absolutely miserable. Ashton is uses to the rain and thunder but now it’s fucking cold. Freezing, frigid cold and fuck does it hurt. They can feel it in their bones, their entire body just hurts, more so than usual. The jungle is fine, perfect even. It’s like home. But they’re far from home. The heart in the jungle, lies far beyond sight and perhaps even mind. This fey bullshit is something else entirely and Ashton doesn’t quite like it. The weather seems to hate them especially. If there’s some asshole watching over them making this all happen, he’ll personally see to it that there’s a nice and comfy spot in the earth about six feet under. Fuck.

All of those emotions disappear though. A burst of light illuminates the skies and with it your face. You look up at the sky and admire the tendrils flash before the disappear as quickly as they came. You’re a beautiful sight- It is a beautiful sight. Fuck. You’re beautiful. They’re in deep. Once upon a time Ashton thought this was fun while it lasted. A little teasing and flirting never hurt anybody but the line had blurred a long time ago. Ashton caught feelings and it’s very few times they’re unsure about anything. Your lips move but your voice is drowned out by the sound of crashing thunder.

“Hah?!” Ashton leans in closer to hear as the ground shakes once more.

“I said we should find some shelter!” You all but shout pointing at the sky and take their hand. So much for venturing off on your own and having a little voyage ‘back in an hour’. You hope the others have the mind to find shelter too. You send them a message just in case as you pull the genasi along through the trees and rocks until you stumble upon a cave. You’re not taking any risks and the lightning is getting closer. From here you’d be safe with cover, and still able to witness nature in all it’s grandeur.

Letting himself be dragged along Ashton isn’t opposed to the shelter you’ve found because with his track record he wouldn’t put it behind any mischievous fey to set the gold in those cracks to attract the lightning. On the other side they too are a little curious to see what would happen… Maybe another time. Ashton curls and uncurls their fingers, rotates their wrists when you let go and take a look out at the oncoming clouds hiding the moonlight, or dusk-light should be more appropriate. You stay at the mouth of the cave to watch another rumble hit the earth in a cacophony and the lightning, quick as it passes makes this cave all the darker. Ashton can’t see shit and in an attempt to find a wall loses their footing. A crack, that’s luckily hidden by thunder saves most of the hit to his pride. But then fire glow appears in the palm of your hand.

“Why are you on the ground?” You hide a chuckle as you watch Ashton give up on, life, existence, everything laying on their back, legs bent at the knees and groan.

“I just wanted to be one with my element.” They speak as casually as they can but your brow furrows and you take a tentative step closer, and another and another. You kneel down and help Ashton sit up. Groans are not just a casual annoyance at this place, but something of discomfort. You caught on. Shit.

“I can give you two a moment if you’d prefer but I don’t think that’ll do you much good.”

“There’s room for one more. Plenty of the earth to go around.” Ashton jokes.

“I was hoping there’d be plenty of you but I can settle for the rocks beneath my feet.” You jest and Ashton scoffs though the attitude is quick to slip when your arm hand touches their back. Even through their jacket, the warmth offers such a relief. “You doing okay?” Again your brow furrows.

“Yeah. Yeah sure.” And so the comfort disappears. You pull back and just sit on your knees, hands gathered in your lap. Disapproval crosses your features.

“Sure.” You deadpan and grab onto Ashton’s wrist, uncurling the fingers gently and clasping his hand between yours. You bring it to your lips and blow warm air. It doesn’t take much to see the instant relief cross their features.

“Okay maybe I’m not entirely okay.” The look you give them is much akin to ‘ya think?’ and it hurts to admit to the way it makes Ashton feel inside. Then your features soften. You look out towards, the oncoming storm, to the lightning reaching out, and the wind rustling through the trees picking up.

“Sit with me.” You simply say. It’s not quite a question as much as it is an order and Ashton does feel like they have a choice. It’s just a very tempting one despite their disdain for authority and following orders. You shift from your knees until you’re comfortable, looking out over the horizon. Everything seems so much easier when he looks at you. Everything is. You make it so because any doubt falls away. Ashton knows they’re on the right path because you’re there and as long as you walk it with them they’ll keep walking with you.

Ashton shifts and sits next to you. He bumps your shoulder with his. You chuckle and bump back, though much likes the rock around, they don’t budge. The cold pain creeps up again and almost as if you know exactly what to do, you wrap an arm around their back, slipping your fingers under the jacket and lean your head on their shoulder. Just your sheer presence, and a little magic manages to numb the pain and that’s more than Ashton can say the majority of people they’ve had in their life have ever been able to do.

“You’re so fucking confusing.” Ashton speaks before they think.

“Wow, so much affection.” You scoff but pull closer.

“You are.” Ashton doubles down. “You’re a fucking disaster waiting to happen.”

“But I’m your disaster.” You poke a finger at his chest.

“Are you?” Again, speaking before thinking but that seems to be the right track. You take a deep sigh and Ashton’s heart stops, their breath stops. Time stops. There’s not but anticipation, both joy and dread loom overhead and they’re just stupid fucking feelings because end of the day you’re just you and you’re fucking amazing. That’s what you are. You’re fucking amazing.

“I don’t know. Am I?” The both of you look at another lightning bolt striking close by. Ashton gives it a moment, letting the trembles of the earth fade and the light too, not but the dim orb behind the two of you offering the littlest of light.

“Maybe you are. If you think you can handle it.” He looks down nudging your head from his shoulder.

“First off, rude-“

“You’re the one using my shoulder as pillow, find a rock or something.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Will you now?”

“Yeah. A nice and comfy one.” You’re unreadable. That’s dangerous. Next Ashton knows you’re on your knees at their side, back facing the exit of the cave, your warmth has disappeared from their back but settles on their shoulders. It takes everything to not lean into the touch. Not that they have to because you lean closer.

“This one seems plenty comfortable.” You close the gap, press your lips to Ashton’s. While you’ve shared your flirty kisses before they were just that. This kiss is different. This kiss is a lifetime unfolding however long it might last. This moment is as bright and beautiful as the flashes beyond the cover. You’re like a warm fire in the cold dead night and are simply a relief. You’re a certainty in their life when they have known so little. This might not be eternity but this is certain. You’re certain because you’re just fucking you and that’s all you’d ever need to be. Cover from a thunderstorm isn’t so bad out here.

#critical role x reader #bells hells x reader #ashton greymoore x reader #ashton x reader #bells hells #critical role #critical role fanfiction #ashton greymoore

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deramin2 · 6 months

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Sitcom where it's the Luxon, Ka'Mort, and Rau'shan sharing a townhouse in an aasimar and are arguing over renovating the place to their own tastes. The Luxon took the mind and the rage, Ka'Mort took the body and made an earth genasi, and Rau'shan took the right arm and the cracks. Maybe a mockumentary like What We do In The Shadows. Slowly find out they've formed a casual polycule. They roast the Exandrian Pantheon regularly.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role fanfiction #critical role campaign 3 #Bell's Hells #Ashton Greymoore #the Luxon #Ka'Mort #Rau'shan

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bentannin · 5 months

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Something that’s been gnawing at my brain since the latest episode aired is that no one in game has talked about the kiss. And obviously it’s because they have more important things to focus on (betrayals of trust, deep-cut family and abandonment issue, finally-boiling-over anger, DELILAH) but I can’t help putting the callowmoore glasses on and thinking about the angst and potential of it all!!

Imagine: it’s further down the line and maybe (after so much apologizing, after so much groveling, after so much trying and working towards earning everyone’s trust back) Ash and Fearne are okay again.

And maybe sometimes, even though he’d be too embarrassed/shy to admit it, they think about that kiss again. A quick, very awkward, kind of uncomfortable, and very not-smooth attempt at returning that stolen kiss from the airship all that time ago. A kiss that may very well have been their last because god the shard thing was really fucking stupid.

And maybe he thinks about how Fearne deserved better than that. Deserves better than that. And he seeks her out one day, in a quiet nook, or an empty hallway, or maybe he’s brave enough to even seek her out in her room, and he stumbles and stutters his way through asking for a do-over.

And maybe she’ll laugh or be confused, or, if they ever reach that point again, she’ll tease and prod and take joy out of the awkward, floundering mess of a titan in front of her.

And maybe, she lets him, and they kiss again but this time, he kisses Fearne Calloway the way she deserves. Because she is lovely, and caring, and full of so much life and love and wonder, and he fucked it up the first time but now theyve got a second chance and they won’t fuck it up.

And maybe they don’t. Maybe they kiss her like she’s everything, because she is. And maybe, by some miracle, they end up being more than okay at the end of their journey, wherever it may lead afterwards.

#fearne calloway #ashton greymoore #callowmoore #critical role #critical role spoilers #was this just an excuse for me to write bad callowmoore fanfiction at 1am?#we may never know #(the answer is yes)#also I’m so excited for Ashton’s apology arc #they have SO MUCH making up to do and I am here for it #love love love Ashton but they’re a dummy #still love them tho

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cassafrasscr · 2 months

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Had a lot of feels about Ashton and chronic pain this week, so I wrote a coda to Campaign 3 Episode 86.

Summary: Ashton collapses after dropping his Titan form. Orym hovers.

Technically diverges from canon after C3 e86, but only because Bell's Hells actually lets their poor tank rest for once, lol. 😅

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr3 #orym of the air ashari #ashton greymoore #ashrym #critical role fanfiction #my fanfic writing #cr3e86 #chronic pain

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kaermorhenatnight · 5 months

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Just out of curiosity, cause I am writing a smut about Ashton Greymoore from Critical Role campaign 3. And I made it an Ashton x Reader fic cause I haven't seen much of those. Wondering if there's a reason for it, maybe no one just wants to read those xd Should I post it when I finish writing? Or is it just that CR fandom prefers fics between characters, not really the whole self-indulgent x reader kind?

(i don't have many followers so I don't think I will get an answer but gonna try anyway to see if my effort put in writing will be worth it by sharing with others)

#critical role #critical role campaign 3 #ashton greymoore #ashton greymoore x reader #ashton greymoore smut #critical role smut #critical role fanfiction

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loreruinedme · 5 months

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Burning Love - A Callowmoore Fic

A/N - This is my first time I'm actually putting any of my writing anywhere so any feedback would be appreciated. This is slightly different to how the episode played out as well.

Spoilers for Campaign 3 Episode 77.

w/c - 3.8k

art by @/seasalt_farm on twitter

The sounds of their friends footsteps echo as they walk down the steps of the ziggurat, Chetney and Fresh Cut Grass muttering about how they will keep Lady Cassandra safe. Ashton and Fearne look to each other, holding each others gaze. In their periphery they see a glowing arcane shield come over them. The moment spans for an eternity. Panic is etched on Fearne’s face, determination is written on Ashton’s - it’s only them.

“They were going to argue, I don’t want this to-” Ashton says, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, no, I know, I understand I understand” Fearne cuts off his rambling with her own, forcing the words past the lump in her throat.

The harness sits between them. A small part of Fearne feels like there’s still a choice to be made, that Ashton doesn’t have to do this but she knows they have made up their mind.

“If it starts to get weird, feel free to scream like bloody hell, its okay, I don’t. Thanks” Ashton softly says to Fearne. He softens his gaze, reaching out for her hand - offering her the way to openly deal with pain, like one that they’ve had to hide throughout their whole life.

“Yeah you got it” Fearne holds onto their hand, for what might be the last time, a single tear running down her cheek.

Ashton can see the pain on her face, how much this is tormenting her. He just wishes he lives through this - hell, wishes he didn’t have to do this. He won’t fail his family though, not again. The moment seems like it lasts forever but quickly ends after Fearne wipes the tear away, continuing on.

“Alright, well, lets get you in this thing” Her hand leaves his reaching for the harness, the only thing putting distance between them.

They both relish in the moment of Fearne’s hands on Ashton, no matter the painful reasoning. The spark of electricity is undeniable as she slowly starts to put the harness on Ashton, never wanting to take her hands off of them again.

“Lets do this. Quick” Ashton’s voice breaks the tender moment. The slight panic on his face is obvious to Fearne, knowing the group might stop them the urgency kicks in.

Snapping every buckle, tightening every strap until the harness looks like it was made for Ashton. Their hands engaging in some kind of practised dance, sparks of electricity firing whenever their hands brush.

“I’m getting nervous” Fearne’s voice quivers as their hands touch when frantically putting on the harness. They stop. Ashton raises a hand, pinching her chin between his forefinger and thumb, tilting her chin so their gazes meet.

“What if, what if you die, what if you like explode” Another small tear falls down Fearne’s cheek, Ashton can’t help but notice due to their proximity.

“Well, that’ll be a story won’t it” Ashton raises their other hand to cup her cheek, wiping the tear away.

He can’t even meet her eye when he continues “Fuck it. Do it” a hint of pain in his voice seeing her in so much turmoil.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. What if something happens” Fearne’s voice shakes with worry as she takes their hand in hers. Silently begging them not to do this. Their expression softens just a moment for Fearne to see the vulnerability that they are also scared about this.

“Shit happens” Ashton rips her gaze from hers, it takes every inch of him to do so, searching for anyone to stop them. But he needs to do this, he must do this. For them. For her. For Fearne.

His gaze clashes with hers again, she never took it off him knowing this might be the last time she sees him.

“I know some of your whatever is bullshit” Ashton fakes a chuckle, trying to get the same from her, to see her enchanting smile one last time. “I know that you worry about your friends” He takes a small step towards her, their bodies almost touching now, hands still entangled. “This. Is. What. I. Need” He punctuates every word, trying to get her to see this is the only way. This is the only thing they can do to save the group. To save her. They simultaneously take a deep shaky breath, they’ve always been on the same wavelength. It’s almost enough for them to share a laugh, maybe Ashton’s final. “I need to save everybody. We all need to save everybody” Their faces are inches from each other, one move and they could both cave in to the feelings they’ve tried to hide for so long. “Alright?”

“No” She answers truthfully but Ashton already knew that, it’s all over her face. Her heart forces the next words out of her mouth before she can think “But what if this is not how we do it?” Every one of her pleads threaten to break Ashton, to change his mind, to fight for them.

“We’re already fucked anyway” His voice reaches just above a whisper, like he doesn’t want to admit it and they both know they aren’t just talking about this power. He’s talking about them, their all-consuming feelings that make a small part of both of them want to fight for another way.

“What if giving it to you is not how we save everybody?” He questions, another silent beg to get her to realise this is the only way.

“I was already thinking that” She already knew it in her head but her heart only broke now. “I just put the shard in there what do I do?” If she is going to do this she is going to do it right, this is a massive risk, they don’t need more odds against them. Their grip on each other loosens as they realise they can’t stay like this forever, as much as they want to, as loud as their hearts are screaming at them to.

“We did it last time. Just put it in and turn it on if I recall” Both of them wrenching their gaze from each other and to the shard. “Lets go. You promised” His eyes wander her body, taking her all in before meeting her gaze, some of that determination he has is now echoed in her own features.

“Shit. Now you had to go say something like that” She chuckles. That laugh makes him want to rip off the harness taking everything he just did and said back, that laugh thats become one of his favourite things in the world. But he doesn’t. “Alright”

“Ready?” A small part of him wants her to say no, to fight for him, to fight for another way.

“Yeah” Uncertain of her own answer but her heart knows he’s right. He can trust her, they can get through this.

“One more for the road” She barely hears what he says before his arms are around her, holding her, comforting her, she could die in this very moment and die happy. Her arms wrap around him, returning the connection and that’s all the confirmation Ashton needs that she feels what he feels. Love.

Ashton’s hands wander up her body to reach her face, savouring each millisecond of each other’s touch, silently craving for more. His hand cradles her cheek, eyes searching for permission, his breath catching in anticipation. Once she leans into his touch, moving her head towards his, it takes mere moments before his mouth closes over hers. Months of pent-up fire finally burning between them. Some regret fills the kiss, wishing they had done this before but nothing can take away from the heat between them. Their lips part in the kiss, no need for breath, this is what can keep them alive. Their tongues dance like they were made to do this. Ashton runs their hand through her hair to cradle the back of her head as Fearne grip on him becomes a vice, taking the kiss deeper. Flames dance through this kiss, their hands and bodies finally exploring each other finally relieving the months of craving. They melt into each other, everything feels right. Everything else falls away, no thoughts about what’s about to be done, it’s just them, it’s as if they are the only people in the world.

As they finally break apart, held in each others arms, foreheads pressed together Fearne whispers “Well now I don’t want to put it in”. Silently praying she could just hold onto them and stay in this blissful long awaited moment.

Her gaze drops to the shard, unfortunately leaving the comfort and safety of his arms. He watches her every move, trying to take in her captivating beauty one last time. The shard burns her hands but the heat isn’t anything compared to the fire of their kiss - nothing will ever compare.

Ashton cups her face again, it takes everything in them to not kiss her again.

“If it gets weird, you just yell” a whispered final request. Ashton doesn’t want her to suffer through this pain alone, he doesn’t want her to feel the pain alone. But they both know this will break her in ways it won’t break the others - it will shatter her heart.

She reaches the shard round to the back of their neck where the funnel sits waiting. Neither of them miss the flash of desire as her hand brushes against his neck, where it was seconds ago.

They both hold their breath, gaze locked on each other as everything else out goes into focus. They only notice the runes on the harness glowing as it casts different light on their faces. This is it.

Fearne lets go of the shard barely noticing the rotating flame. Her hands cup his cheeks this time “You better not die” she demands, what might be her last words to them, as she drops her hands tensing them in fists at her side.

For the first time, a single tear rolls down Ashton’s cheek. Fear tenses every part of their body as she asks something of him that he probably can’t deliver.

They stand together, as a warmth begins to blossom in Ashton’s chest. Fearne watches his face wince as he chooses feel the pain in front of her. The rainbow sparks begin to flicker in the opal stone on the side of Ashton’s head but Fearne can’t take her eyes off of his.

The heat in his chest grows and grows until it begins to burn. Unlike the fiery passion they previously shared, this is white hot agony. Fearne feels helpless as she watches his face contort in pain. She watches the gold fracture lines across all of Ashton’s body turn to a bright orange - her guilt placing a heavier weight on her chest.

All this time their gazes are set on one another, they don’t even hear their friends asking what is going on. All Fearne can do is watch as Ashton is baked in a searing heat.

The heat within his chest burns as he feels something trying to awaken, a second heartbeat almost, starting to shift and flex. The heat lurches from his chest to his shoulder, Fearne seeing him jolt in pain.

She begins to run to catch and steady him. But she sees the fear swimming in his eyes and the word “Don’t” escapes in a shaky breath, ghosting across his lips. He shuts his eyes tightly, he can’t bear to look at the guilt, fear and pain in her eyes.

Fearne can’t suppress her cry as a chunk of Ashton’s shoulder shatters to the ground and break into thousands of pieces. Tears begin to quickly fall down her face, steaming as they reach the slowly heating ground below.

“Fuck pain” He growls, his throat starting to feel the agonising burn.

“No” Fearne pleads, taking another step closer to him.

“Fuck pain” He shouts with a rage like no other due to the pain, opening his eyes to see Fearne’s face inches from his own.

“No”. Ashton wishes he didn’t see her tear stained cheeks as for a millisecond she averts her gaze in the direction of their friends. They can help, they can stop the pain.

As if reading her mind, Ashton whispers “Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare”. He doesn’t miss her slight flinch at the anger in his tone but he can’t control it, not now. He didn’t mean to scare her, it’s the last thing they wanted to do but he knows their friends will try and force her to take this pain on instead of him. He would go to the ends of the earth to make sure she never feels this pain.

The heat spreads further through Ashton’s body and they hold each other’s gaze. Fearne‘s eyes quickly dart to the sound of rock cracking as a part of Ashton’s ear falls and shatters on the ground. This will literally tear him apart. The now orange cracks turn brighter and brighter into an almost white colouration, the rock that makes up his skin begins to heat just like the previously golden cracks did.

As Ashton changes colour, Fearne sees the shard slowly drain colour until it cracks, mimicking what she sees in the man before her. His body lurches, beginning to expand and he slowly starts to crumble.

His eyes tightly shut as another wave of unfathomable pain crashes over his body. Fearne doesn’t even notice the sound of Imogen’s footsteps coming towards them, how could she when she is watching a man she loves literally falling apart in front of her.

He opens his eyes but instead of the familiar comfort she has been looking into the whole time she is met with burning coals, emitting a bright orange light towards her. Another shift of his body as his chest expands once more, a sickening crack meets her ears, unlike anything she’s heard yet. His right arm splinters off, completely detaching from his torso falling to the ground.

Fearne can’t take it anymore, she cant stand there and just watch this happen. Rushing to him, not even caring about the burning of her hands, she frantically starts undoing the harness. Reversing what dance they had done before but it is much slower this time, the time that is matters. Ashton can’t even feel her hands on him, it’s only pain.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no - help” Fearne wonders for a second if these are her own words before she recognises it’s Imogen’s pleas, not hers.

She only feels fear in this moment, doing whatever she can to undo this. Ashton only feels pain, almost subsiding into numbness. Almost.

Worry fills his features for a second, wondering if their friends will stop this and force Fearne to endure this instead. However a part of him, this new part of him, knows it’s too late. All he can offer Fearne is a sad smile knowing only he will have to endure this. Only him, only once, then it’s over.

Through what would be tears but is just steam. Ashton thoughts race: his past, his future, those he wants to protect, the one he wants to protect most. He believes he thinks this but the faintest whisper of his thoughts, his prayer, meets Fearne’s ears.

“I don’t care where, just - I don’t care what I am going to become but I have to become something that is - I am not gonna loose anybody” That last sentence feels like it plays on loop in Fearne’s mind. Tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to undo the harness, in her haste her fingers are slipping, loosing her precious seconds.

Ashton, used to being in pain, is able to block out some of the burning, enough to feel the presence of his friends approaching. A white hot sensation is crawling across his body as he continues to grow brighter and hotter.

“Anything you’ve got, I’ll take it” He roars in a mixture of pain and forced anger, a desperate plea for help to get through this, to rid him of the pain.

“Anything - what did you do?” Imogen questions back. Ashton seemingly ignores it and, to his heart’s dismay, breaks from Fearne’s grasp stumbling with whatever strength they can muster towards Fresh Cut Grass.

Fearne stands, another feeling of helplessness washes over her as she tries to help him stand but the burning is only getting worse. She sees Imogen in an effort to hold their body together. Ashton’s arm reaches for the healing potion at is side, he’s desperate in any attempt to stop the pain. But the slight hope that began to bloom in their chests vanishes as quickly as the potion evaporates.

An uncomfortable laughter fills the space: ragged, broken and unsettling. Fearne’s body tenses in worry and rage as she knows it is unmistakably Ashton’s laugh. It’s usually a rare beauty but it is anything but that in this moment.

Seeing their friends come to their aid fills both Ashton and Fearne with hope. The heating of the metal of FCG’s hand isn’t even noticed by Ashton as his is gaze once again shifts to Fearne, his rock. Their gazes meet and a wave of worry passes through them as she mutters a spell. Immediately Ashton feels whole again, he feels life, waves of it roll over him countering the constant pain. He can feel the spell holding him here, tethered to this world, all because of Fearne. The woman who is slowly becoming his whole life.

She notices the twitch in Ashton’s fingers reaching for the ring, for any form of protection. But another torrent of pain wracks his body, all he can feel is fire, unable to concentrate on anything but the burning sensation that is ripping his body apart. What looks like small volcanoes seem to emerge from the cracks in his expanded chest, threatening to explode at any moment.

There’s a silent scream of pain as his breath slows to a point where the burning orange of his eyes seems to slightly dim. Shallow ragged breaths fill the chamber as Fearne muffles a cry - ‘it should’ve been me’ is all she can think about seeing him on the brink of death. He uncontrollably crumples to a knee, another cascade of shale falling off of his body. She pushes all the energy she can towards him as FCG does the same and she sees a familiar sense of life return to those eyes.

He reaches to the stone, his constant comfort, what makes up his body. There’s a battling duality happening as they continue to slip in and out of consciousness, two bombs inside of him threatening to detonate. All this time Fearne has stayed by him, keeping him here, as pain puts him down she brings him back up. All this time she is unbuckling the harness frantically undoing every mistake she made through streams of tears. She watches his life fade over and over only to be brought back by her. Unbothered by the heat that encompasses her whole body, it can be nothing compared to what he’s going through, to what she almost had to go through herself.

Through her attempts and the helps of Imogen’s mage hand and Orym’s seedling, the harness is ripped from his body. Leaving her hands after what feels like an eternity of fumbling with the buckles. She instinctively reaches out for him, wanting him to know she is there but her fingers are met with white hot fire.

The gold, now white hot, parts of his body emanate with a viscous glow. His eyes tightly shut and face tenses as he looks up, beams of sheer bright light emanate from his eyes. A blood-curdling scream rips from Ashton’s throat - one Fearne will never forget, it will haunt her, plague her dreams.

And he explodes.

Fearne’s world stops as it feels like the pieces of him are held in the air for an eternity. Tears turn into sobs that now wrack her body, an immense feeling of guilt and grief encompassing her. She can still make out pieces of the opal stone in his head that made her drawn to him, pieces of his mouth where he’s flash her that smirk, his hands that were previously on her face, his lips and the way she felt when theirs brushed against hers. It feels like she relives months full of memories in just a split second.

She notices the ring, the one Deanna gave to Chetney, glowing with a fiery intensity, the visual embodiment of what their kiss felt like. All the pieces of Ashton rush back together in an instant and he is whole together again before her. The moment he is whole they never break each other gaze: focus, determination, desire, want, love. A multitude of shared feelings powers them both through the longest and most excruciating 30 seconds of their lives.

She, and FCG, continue to pump life through him for what feels like hours. Draining their magical abilities to keep him alive and breathing. Not once does her gaze drop from his, she knows much they need each other.

Eventually, the heat beings to subside as Ashton falls unconscious onto his side where his arm once was. She stops, reaching out a hand to touch his cheek, hoping what she did is enough to have saved him. For a brief moment her heart stops as she can no longer feel life in his limp body.

She strokes his cheek for what is the last time, almost pressing her forehead to his. She feels his skin begin to cool as steam hisses from all across his body It encompasses the two of them in a cloud of steam, discreet enough she can press a quick kiss to his lips. He will die knowing how much she wants and needs him, he never stopped fighting for her, not until his last breath.

Air rushes through his lungs, the breath Fearne was holding escapes her as his weight shifts against her embrace.

He comes to, he can feel her holding him, how close her face is to his. His eyes open and lips curve into a slight smile before doing the one thing his heart tells him not to and retreats. His eyes meet hers and they are both flooded with relief. Not caring who surrounds them now, her lips find his. Her lips are warm and soft against his, a reminder of the life she gave to him. She felt his hands gently cup her face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with a gentle urgency. The relief they both feel floods the kiss as they part, holding each other. He sits up and admiring the heavy, glowing molten rock arm that cradles her face - a reminder of the pain he endured, a pain he survived, all because of her.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #c3e77 #c3e77 spoilers #ashton x fearne #fearne x ashton #ashton greymoore #fearne calloway #cr ashton #cr fearne #callowmoore #critical role fanfiction #cr fanfic #cr fic

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nephriteknight · 8 months

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Fic idea: the witches decide to get ashrym together since they aren’t doing it themselves, and use magic, shenanigans, and thinly veiled suggestions to stick them in cliche romcom situations.

Bonus points if Ashton is aromantic and it still works out well (this is always bonus points actually)

#I really wanna write this now #critical role #ashrym #these witches be bitches #critical role fanfiction #ashton greymoore #orym of the air ashari #bells hells

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ratinayellowbandana · 8 months

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this is probably a little too on the nose, but as soon as I saw "color prompt" I thought purple- bc.. well. you know. Though actually reading the prompts under purple all of those have imodna vibes so I think that means it was meant to be

if you want a specfic one, i like 1. "You know you're my best friend, right?", but any of the ones under purple would be cool!!! hope you have fun writing!!!!

woo! this one was very fun and tbh i needed the fluff.

length: ~500 words

~~~

Imogen is drunk.

It’s only natural, Laudna supposes, after the shitshow of a week they’ve had that they might have a little fun. Imogen has her circlet now, after all, and it has been a gift. The defensiveness that has been ever-present across all the years they’ve known each other has faded from Imogen’s brow. She is at ease here, surrounded by their friends, talking and laughing and swapping jabs across the table.

F.G.C. is off searching for another round while Fearne leans casually in the corner of the booth, reclining against the backrest with Orym pressed into her furry side. Mister is perched on her shoulder, nuzzled into her neck. His tail flicks her cheek, and she swats at him, tutting, with a loving laugh.

A curious conversation occupies Orym’s attention, but he smiles and nods at Chetney, who is demonstrating a new-old carving technique he picked up from the Ashari. A toy sword rests in his lap, and he chisels away with impossible speed. Wood shavings cling to his hair and clothing, but he manages to avoid the table, accumulating an impressive pile of dust under his seat instead. Laudna makes a note to tidy it before they move upstairs for the night.

Imogen is warm against her right side, engrossed in an animated argument with Ashton, who humors her with a smirk and raised eyebrows, nodding along to the point Imogen is making the way you only can when addressing someone who is well beyond your level of inebriation.

Does Ashton get drunk? Laudna thinks suddenly. If his outsides are made of stone–or titan? Is that a thing one can be made of?–does it affect his insides, too? Can insides be made of stone? Would they absorb alcohol? He eats, certainly, but…

She has a vague notion of asking, but they might not even know, she realizes wondrously. How many people have seen their own insides? Her mind conjures gleeful images of splitting him open to see, revealing stoney intestines and a rock-shelled heart.

With consent, of course.

She’s only curious. He might be curious, too, after all, and she doesn’t want to hurt him.

Imogen squeezes her thigh and draws Laudna back to the present. “Y’alright?” She asks, eyelids drooping ever so slightly.

“Oh, yes,” Laudna affirms brightly, blinking owlishly, “I was only thinking of Ashton’s insides.”

They raise an eyebrow. “Gods, you’re weird,” he guffaws.

“Thank you,” Laudna replies, lips splitting into a broad grin. A conjured drop of ichor falls from the corner of her lip, trailing down her chin for dramatic effect.

“Damn, I’m glad we’re friends.” He wags a finger and takes a swig from his tankard, shaking his head.

Imogen leans further into her, and Laudna has to stabilize herself against the edge of the booth.

Imogen hums, looks up at Laudna, “Y’know you’re my best friend, right?”

“Alright, asshole, I’m not trying to steal your girl,” Ashton scoffs, rolling his eyes.

Laudna ignores him. “I should certainly hope so,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to Imogen’s forehead. Imogen beams.

“Gross.”

“Shut it, Ashton.”

#as always very unedited #thank you so much for sending this in!#it was very fun #my fic #imodna fic #imodna fanfiction #critical role fanfiction #laudna #imogen temult #ashton greymoore #critical role #cr3 #imodna #cybersevenn #prompt fill #ask

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mommymilkersmac-n-cheese · 9 months

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I am literally on my hands and knees begging all of the fanfic writers to write more fics on Ashton’s chronic pain I’m literally checking the Ashton chronic pain tag on AO3 every single day I need more (I’ll love you forever if you send me recs particularly of Ashton’s chronic pain with the rest of bells hells)

#critical role #laudna #ashton greymoore #bells hells #critical role campaign 3 #criticalrolespoilers #imogen temult #orym of the air ashari #chetney pock o'pea #cr fcg #fearne critical role #ashton chronic pain #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #critical role fanfiction

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railroad-migraine · 1 year

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hello lovely! you’re my favorite bells hells writer, you just hit the nail on the head with every post and i’m so excited everytime i get the notif that you posted

if your requests are still open and you have the time/want to, could you do a bells hells x reader with the prompt “please just hold me?”, like maybe reader had a nightmare or something and asks the party to hold them? please and thank you !!!!

Hello darling! Your words made me all warm and fuzzy, I'm honoured to be a favourite something hehehe. I did a similar post here for when the reader is afraid of the dark, if you're interested :)

~ Poet

"Please Just... Hold Me?"

-> S/O has a nightmare

Ashton 💙

Fuck- Shit- I mean, sure. Sure. C'mere. I'll keep you close.

Even though you're the one seeking comfort, Ashton initially freaks out a little bit themselves. They're not used to the vulnerability that comes with bad dreams, especially when it's being shared with someone he cares about.

Before you give him the go-ahead, his hands are hovering in mid air, clueless on whether or not it's okay to touch you.

They're not the best at words in situations like this, so they let their body do the talking for them. Toned arms pull you into their lap, one hand gently running up and down your back as you calm down.

His crystalised skull glints and catches the miniscule light in your shared room. A little rainbow makes a wobbly appearance on the headboard. Their body is strong and grounding beneath you.

Chetney 💙

Give me time and I'll figure out a way to punch nightmares. It's not impossible if it's for you. I'd do anything for you.

He's got his mind set on that end goal, and Chet doesn't give up easily. But it can wait for another day. A day where you're not trembling beside him.

Because of how smol he is, it's less him holding you and more him being scooped up into your lap with his arms around your neck. Your nose is pressed into his shoulder as he mutters soft words into your ear.

He makes teary attempts at making you laugh, something to distract you both from the water pooling in the corners of your eyes.

He keeps an eye on you in the morning, a subtle way of checking in. He doesn't bring it up in conversation - the man respects your privacy too much.

Dorian 💙

Do you even need to ask? Of course I'll hold you. You're safe with me. I won't let anything happen to you. They can't touch you now.

He feels a little helpless in the moment, his very being flooded with cautious alarm when you reach out for him blindly in the dark. He's not the strongest, nor the bravest, but he'll be your rock and help you through this as best he can.

Pretty words are what he lives on though, and he knows just what to say to make everything feel a little bit better. Sweet nothings and intimate musings drip from the lips that rest on the crown of your head.

His fingers sweep in soothing circles across your skin, and you cling to his silk shirt and silky hair as he guides your fluttering heartbeat to steady to a more restful rhythm.

Sings you lullabies of crisp apples in spring and warm sunshine that kisses the face of a dear lover. Those nightmares are easily kept at bay while you lay beside him.

Fearne 💙

Oh dear. It's just not fair, is it? Don't worry, baby, I got you. Ol' Fearnie's here now.

She's so naturally tender with you. In the daytime, Fearne teases relentlessly, pokes and prods and says sweet flirty things that make you want to curl up into a tight little ball and burn from embarrassment.

But here, she smooths back sweat soaked wispy hairs away from your forehead, presses her lips to your forehead and hushes your unnecessary apologies.

A light floral scent envelopes your entire being like a blanket while she encases you in her arms, her downy fur there feather soft and cosy.

Little Mister lifts his head from the foot of the bed and scampers up to hold your free hand, coos quiet. The other stays placed on top of Fearne's sleep dress, right over her heart. The heart that beats for you.

Imogen 💙

I know what it's like, love. Trust me, I do. I'm not going anywhere. Whatever you need, big or small, it's yours.

Of all the party members, you know that Imogen is the most familiar with nightmares. You've spent many sleepless nights sitting with her, smoothing back her hair and holding a cup of water to her lips as she calms down from vivid visions with vague meanings.

The storm can be so vast and crimson at times, unbearable even. It terrifies her, makes her anxious when it's bedtime. Even if she tries to hide it, you can tell.

But when you're distressed and whimpering under the covers beside her, she pushes those thoughts away and tries to be a bit braver. Braver for you. It's the least she can offer.

She cradles you into her side like you're some glass object that could shatter, her words and thoughts soothing you until sleep or daylight finds you both.

Laudna 💙

Those bad dreams have some nerve poking around in your head. They wouldn't dare if they knew what I could do. Lay back, precious thing.

Like Chetney, Laudna makes the nightmares out to be a personal enemy. They're cruel and unworthy of someone so good such as yourself. Just out of reach so that she can't protect you from them.

If she could, she would show them how scary-scary she can actually truly be.

But until she has the power to physically strangle the embodiment of your bad dreams, she fluffs your pillow and helps you lean back onto the mattress. She's humming something quietly, a lullaby of some sort, her fingers gingerly stroking your face once she's cuddled into you.

She asks if you want to talk about what you dreamt, and respects however you answer. Works you through what you remember and curls her fingers around your own as you speak.

Orym 💙

Hey, hey. Look at me. Hey. Hi. It's me. You're alright, okay? I'm right here. We're alright. Just focus on me.

He lights a candle quicky, and you now are able to see the concern on his face that the shadows previously hid from you. There's a sadness in his eyes, but it's overpowered by the protectiveness in his actions.

He perches at your side, cupping your face while his thumbs gently wipe away crusty sleep from your eyes, soft smile brighter than the flame on the nightstand.

A sprig of lavender grows effortlessly from his palm and he tucks it in between your pillows to help you sleep better when you feel ready to.

Orym has had his fair share of nightmares, and helps you through it like he approaches everything - with practiced carefulness and kindness that is so good in nature that the bad dreams dare not linger.

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