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crownofstarfall · 1 year

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Ramblings (Ashton Greymoore x Reader)

Helllooo. I wrote this sweet moment for my friend who is a huge Ashton simp. The reader in this story is a ranger, but tbh it just mentions Longbow so you can self-insert whatever you want!

Let me know how you like it and if I should start posting more of my writings!

Enjoy! xxx

word count: 826

Ashton wasn’t a man of many words, especially when it came to expressing himself to those he cared for. It had been no different when he had first met Y/N. The two genuinely enjoyed one another’s company, and conversation seemed to flow very easily. They had to meet no high expectations when conversing with one another. But suddenly one day, Ashton was hit with a ton of bricks. He started to feel a few little sparks in his chest when he was around her. He played this off as a new type of chronic pain that he would experience, much like the rest of himself, but after more and more time had passed, it grew, and he wasn’t sure when he would explode.

A few months passed, and the sparks in his chest were now more of a fiery warmth that enveloped his heart and the surrounding area of his chest. He always felt this, not even just when he was with Y/N. His every thought was about her, she never left his mind. This new sort of heat constantly reminded him that she was not his, and she probably never would be. He had no intention of revealing his intentions to her. She would most certainly never feel the same, so he would spare himself the pain.

He didn’t mean to start completely ignoring her, he just wanted to rid himself of his affections and then they could continue their relationship as normal. He hadn’t realized that Y/N had a mind of her own and noticed that he was distant. She had feelings for him of her own, and she also did not allow herself to completely fall for him. But she didn’t want to lose her friend altogether either, he was too important to her. She would not stand by and watch as he drifted away from her, so she confronted him. Which led to a huge fight. Which then led to them kissing. Which then led to them telling each other how they felt. And now they were together, happy.

Unlike Ashton, Y/N sometimes had too many words to say. He had grown accustomed to her rambling on about things he didn’t care about, but he listened to them anyway and smiled to himself about how lucky he was. One particular day Y/N was rambling on about a certain type of longbow she admired, but could not have. Ashton sat with her on a bench, his shoulder around her, pulling her into his side as they watched the street around them. He hummed along to show he was listening and acknowledging.

She continued on for another ten minutes before seemingly, out of nowhere his heart burst with love, and finally allowed himself to smile over at her. He loved these close moments with her, just sitting in intimate proximity and just enjoying the other’s company. He didn’t say a lot, but he loved how she filled the silence around them. He was lost in his thoughts when he was suddenly pulled out of them when Y/N asked him a question.

“What?” he raised his eyebrows.

“I asked if you were tired of hearing me talk.” she frowned. “I knew you were, you’re not even paying attention. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you. I’ll shut u…” but she was cut off when he pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes widened with surprise. She really thought that she was boring him.

After the kiss she couldn’t seem to form a word, “I…I… ghmn.” He chuckled.

“Don’t ever shut up. I love to hear you ramble on about things you like. Don’t ever stop.” He caressed her cheek.

“Are you sure? I knew you weren’t listening… I can stop.” she tried to meet his gaze but couldn’t allow herself.

“I was before, I just was lost in thought of how much I love you,” he whispered, then kissed her again.

She was too stunned to speak.

She felt his lips leave hers but she still left her lips agape. Her eyes fluttered open to look up at the beautiful green genasi before her. He smiled at her and stroked her hair, pushing a few strands back behind her ear.

“You know I love you too, don’t you?” Y/N asked him, placing her hand on his, stopping his movements.

His gaze moved from her eyes, down to her lips, which were still agape, and then back up to her lovely eyes.

“Of course, I know. You have made that perfectly clear.” She nodded along with his words. “Now, please continue. I promise I will listen more intently.” He grinned at her and then pulled her back into his side. She was silent for a few moments and then picked up where she had left off. She began to trace the gold on his chest while she rambled on. He couldn’t keep the smile from leaving his face.

#ashton greymoore #ashton imagine #ashton greymoore imagine #critical role #critical role campaign 3 #bells hells #ashton greymoore x reader #ashton x reader

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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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dragon-chica · 1 year

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Noticing that Ashton is feeling a little insecure watching Annaline's work with her hammer and leaning over to them-, one hand gripping the thick handle strapped to his back and giving a small tug and going "Don't worry babe, I like yours more."

#Critical Role #I want to turn this thought into a fic but I am so tired from work #Ashton Greymoore x reader #Ashton Greymoore imagine #Critical Role x reader #Critical Role imagine

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railroad-migraine · 2 years

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Soft prompt "you got me flowers?" With a druid reader and ashton? Specifically ashton receiving the flowers

;^; <3 Another addition to the "A Little" series.

~ Poet

Notes: Originally a Valentine's Day request but I've been soo busy! Pre/Early relationship vibes.

Words: 1115

"A Little While Longer"

-> Ashton x GN!Reader

"You got me flowers?"

"Correction - I grew you flowers, Ash."

His brows pinch together, a frown tugging the corners of his lips down as he eyes the offered gift. You shift your weight from one leg to the other and back again, a restless and nervous energy buzzing through you.

Magic has always come easy to you, and your new group of friends can confirm that with what they've seen you achieve in battle. It's always been like this - power, chaos, shaped and twisted in the palm of your hand. Ever since you can remember, nature has favoured you and has tended to your needs in the right situations, from the skirmishes you've dealt with single-handed to the battles where you've been way out of your depth.

But this - this is what you thrive at.

Earlier, when dawn was breaking, you sat up in your bed and allowed that familiar flow of arcane energy travel down your arms and manifest into flowers, their stems curling around your fingers so perfectly - like old friends holding hands. Basking in the feeling, samples of different types of blooms responded to your words and touch. You imagined soft and healthy flowers, and your magic provided with ease. Eventually you had a selection of carnations, roses, sweet peas, and peonies to carefully wrap up in simple waxed parchment you had bought at the market the day before. It was a small bouquet, nothing too fancy, without a greeting card or a soft toy to accompany it, but that didn't make it any less beautiful.

The bunch, its weight comforting in your hands as you hold it towards Ashton, is tied together by a thin red ribbon - courtesy of Fearne. Your fingers flex with anticipation against the heart-shaped bow.

You had grown them with nothing but love and magic, and yet a blank stare was the only reaction the earth genasi provided. But here you both stand, watching each other carefully with an unspoken question in the air. Your shoulders sag slightly with relief as he takes the bouquet from you, one corner of his mouth pulled down in a frown.

A sliver of doubt makes itself at home in your mind. Are flowers such an offensive gift?

"What?" you ask with a forced smile, eyes flicking from his face to the bouquet and back. "You don't like them?"

"I've never... been given something so..." He struggles for a moment, words escaping him entirely. The frown on his face hardens, and he glances up to meet your gaze. In the corner of your eye you see a slight movement - their thumb gently stroking one of the velvet petals.

"Soft?" you weakly offer, feeling a slight pang of dejection in your chest.

"Thoughtful," he corrects. Breaking into an almost bashful grin, they shake their head slightly with only what you'd call amusement. "You're too fucking cute, you know that?"

Emotion wells up in your throat and you swear you feel warmth flood through your core, up your neck and spread across your face. Good. This is a good outcome. They're not offended. He likes the flowers. He thinks you're cute.

"They're symbolic, you know," you manage to croak out. He tilts his head at you, prompting you to elaborate. "Like, they have individual meanings. Like the peonies - they represent honour." He hums. "Wealth." That earns you a pleased scoff-laugh. "... Sometimes romance."

"Thanks," Ashton chuckles, gesturing with the bouquet slightly. "I, ah... Heh, I'm not used to this sorta thing, I guess. Not my usual style but... It's a welcome change." He huffs with a shrug, not meeting your eye. "It's different, y'know?"

They're nervous too. He likes the flowers. They haven't been given them before.

They think you're cute.

Before you can stop yourself, your voice takes initiative: "You're cute too." You nearly regret your words, but Ashton simply 'tsks' under their breath. He looks down at the bunch of flowers, considering them before plucking one of peonies, carefully drawing it from the rest of the flowers so that the bouquet stays intact. It's out of character, but the way the side of their mouth tugs into a concentrated frown is all too familiar.

"I can't do anything special with it," he says, "nothing like you, or even the less elaborate shit that Orym can pull with his Ashari background." He holds it out, the singular stem pinched between calloused fingers, a peace offering of some sort.

You grin and are about to take it, but Ashton withdraws their hand slightly and suddenly, just out of reach. The familiar cheeky glint in their eye is back, the boldness you know all too well. "Hey, do you have anywhere to be?"

You blink. "What, like right now?"

"Yeah. Like right now."

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth and think. It's late afternoon, the day after a job well done for Lord Eshteross. The rest of the group were surely resting or shopping in preparation for the next errand, having agreed to meet back at the tavern after sundown for dinner and to plan your next move.

The day is yours to do as you wish.

"Why? You you got something in mind?"

"I guess I was thinking it'd be fun to hang out with you a little while longer." They reach up and scratch their jaw in thought. The orange tinted glow behind him catches in the slag glass in the side of their head, and you can't help but muse how someone so capable of destruction can look so fragile in the right light. "I mean, you still haven't seen all that Jrusar has to offer." Ashton notices your unconvinced expression and cocks an eyebrow, challenging you. "Is wanting go do a bit of sight seeing such a crime?"

"I don't know what your definition of 'sight seeing' is, but whenever you drag me someplace, we always end up trespassing on private property," you tease. "Besides, those flowers won't last very long without water, Ash. I may be magic but they certainly are not."

"I'm sure they can survive a little longer. They'll understand. After all," he smirks as he raises the single peony once more, this time tucking it behind your ear, "I've got a hot date to show around town."

Before you can simmer in the somewhat romantic gesture, Ashton pinches your nose and leaps out of range for any of your incoming attacks. You only manage to swat his shoulder once before giving up, instead letting him take your hand and lead and weave you through the city.

The bouquet stays safely nestled in the crook of his free arm, the heart-shaped bow standing out against the pale parchment.

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