#ASPEN MY DARLING

[sirfetchd]

i dont think ocd and catholic school really mix

[heartfullofleeches]

Femboy Housewife Yan: Aha, look at me. I look like a doll! So kind of you to offer to do my makeup for me, Darling

Spouse Reader: No problem, Aspen.

Housewife Yan: Hmm, what a lovely shade of red. May I ask the brand?

Spouse Reader: Read the label.

[Reader hands the tube of lipstick to their wife - his heart shattered into a million pieces as he reads]

Housewife Yan: Darling..

Spouse Reader: Yeah?

Housewife Yan: It says here that this lipstick is...smear proof?

Spouse Reader: Guess so.

[Aspen rises from his chair, giving his spouse no time to escape as he showers them in kisses - their face remaining near perfectly clear.]

Housewife Yan: [gasps in horror] Monster! Bully! Are you ashamed of your wife's love? :'(

Spouse Reader: No.. but my boss probably wouldn't like it if we joined him for dinner with kissmarks all over my face.

Housewife Yan: Well then he's a bastard of a man who's never known true love and has coal for a heart!

[cryngemania]

Hello my friends :)

Originally I was going to wait until I had more finished for this, but I absolutely adore how this came out SO its coming out early :) Welcome the darling "Friend to everybody" Mr Scar Goodtimes to the bustling city of innovation, Avaris!

More context under the cut (along with a stupid comic wip)

OK THERES A BIT TO GO WITH THIS--

I, being a lover of steampunk and not having seen a lot of steampunk going around as of late, decided that I wanted to make a silly little steampunk au for everyone's favorite MCYT group, and from there I maayyyyy have spiralled a little bit into a full story with world building and a LOT of plans.

Once I get more done for this au, which is going to be lovingly referred to as my Aspen AU (or Aspau, Avaris Steampunk AU), you'll get to hear all about the plans I have in store for everyone :)

[makeyoumine69]

valentines with patrick pls but it ends with patrick being miserable 🙏

Perfect

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Can love truly conquer inner demons, or does walking away become the bravest Valentine’s gift of all?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Implied smut and a lot of angst.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [MY IMAGINES AND SHORT REQUESTS].

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: My Darkest Days—Perfect💌

𝐀/𝐍: I want to wish everyone a happy Valentine's Day! Never stop believing in love! And thank you so much for this request because it fits my current mood a lot!💔

The more Patrick got to know you, the more he realized how pure-hearted and kind you were, literally perfect. And at some point he couldn't stand it anymore, because how could you be so perfect? Even the way you laughed was perfect and your smile was as bright as a summer day in New York. The very day the two of you met. And somehow, Bateman knew from the beginning that your presence in his life would change everything, including himself, and he was not ready or happy for that.

But the moment you opened the window in the dark room, you couldn't blame the light coming in and eliminating everything around you, because that's how things work in our world. Simple physical laws against which we are all helpless. And every single second that Patrick was thinking about why he couldn't hurt you physically or mentally, he was suffering from the stabbing pain in his chest, as if his heart was locked in the chains of molten iron.

The man was trying to find an answer that simply didn't exist.

Finally, in desperation, Bateman even considered asking you this question—what was so special about you? Besides the fact that you were just perfect for him? And maybe for the world? But every time he tried to question you, the two of you ended up lost in the fire of passion that you couldn't control, not that you really wanted to control it. Those raw, vivid emotions soon became his most addictive drug because he could finally feel himself alive. The intimacy he despised became a need he couldn't live without, and he was so damn grateful to you that you didn't see it as his weakness. You were just being yourself, accepting him as he was.

But when the woman loved a man and the man loved a woman, but in his twisted way, it couldn't be easy, even though Patrick really tried to make it work. He just knew that one day his own rage would take over and he'd kill you—never in his life did he feel so disgusted than when he imagined your blood on his hands. And it was weird as hell.

"...and we are going to have a little kitten," you murmured, sitting next to Patrick on the warm carpet by the fireplace. "Oh God, I never asked if you even like cats..."

Trapped in his thoughts, Patrick didn't seem to notice your small talk, but when you put your head on his shoulder, he flinched a little, but didn't push you away. "I, uh, never really thought about it," he replied, looking at you. "Tell me something, darling. Are you happy here?"

With a broad smile, you giggled and hugged his arm. "Of course I am happy! Spending Valentine's Day not anywhere but in Aspen seems like a dream!"

"Dream?"

"Yes, very much like a dream," you added, glancing back at him with your doe eyes, where the fire sparks were glimmering. "I know it doesn't seem like much to you. But to me it's like a winter fairytale come true."

Bateman hummed and instinctively pecked your forehead, then your temple, until his warm lips found yours; you didn't hesitate and kissed him back, hugging his strong neck and brushing his slicked-back hair a little. There was something desperate about the way the man held you in his embrace, but you overlooked it, unable to think of anything but the heat radiating from his sturdy body.

"I must say, you always have the best way with words," he whispered into your neck before nipping at your sensitive skin, sending little shivers through your slightly trembling form. "And I like it."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing when Patrick rubbed his nose against your neck and unintentionally tickled you. "Uh, Patrick!" You snickered and turned away from him. "Too many compliments from you today. Did something happen?"

Silence fell over the spacious room, only the faint ticking of the fireplace could be heard for a while before Bateman pulled you onto his lap and pressed you against his chest so you could hear his steady heartbeat—the soft material of his sweater felt so comforting you thought you were going to burst into tears from how much you loved this man. 

"No, nothing happened," he finally replied, stroking the top of your head. "Just a little nervous about the main surprise I prepared for you."

"Huh?"

"After we're done with our planned events, I'd like to present it to you," Bateman cupped your face, his lips curled into that classic boy-next-door smile that always had the most charming effect on you. "So, have you ever been to the hot springs?"

Before heading out to the best springs in Colorado, not far from Aspen, the two of you made snowmen and played snowball before you decided to compete with Patrick in strength, trying to knock him down only to end up being pushed into the big pile of snow. After laughing for a while, Bateman noticed your slightly offended look, and the next thing you knew, the man turned around and fell on his back next to you, leaving you both giggling at how silly you both looked. But you didn't care because you were lying together in the snow, holding hands and looking up at the sky, which was so clean and white, as if it was covered with snow as well. 

Was this even real?

Later, in Glenwood Springs, you found out that there were almost only two of you, and that privacy helped a lot when you were swimming naked in the hot springs, exhaling the white steam because the temperature around you was quite low. 

Skin against skin, his eager lips on yours, drowning out all the little moans that tried to escape your trembling throat as he rubbed your swollen folds while you were both still submerged in the water. You wanted to claw at his skin, leaning on his shoulders and throwing your head back to give him more space as he kissed you here and there. 

Patrick, mmhm, please, don’t stop.

The man longed to etch those words into his mind, along with the intoxicating sensation of owning you in every possible way. And if your soul could be touched, he could swear he would touch it with a tenderness he had never known before. Because finding someone with a pure soul was something so rare these days. Something almost surreal. Something Bateman secretly thirsted for, but realized too late.

When you came back to Aspen to the luxurious winter house he rented, you spent a dear hour reading The Great Gatsby and even though Patrick kept commenting on how stupid and pathetic it was of Gatsby to try to impress an arrogant bitch like Daisy, you both enjoyed the evening anyway because you could listen to him read the passages forever—his voice was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Still, you never really confessed it to him, thinking he would call you silly and... too romantic? Too emotional?

Emotions, emotions, emotions.

Having sex with someone doesn't mean you have feelings for them. Loving someone doesn't always mean it will last forever. Only losing someone feels like something permanent. And Patrick couldn't let that happen.

When you were busy cooking something for dinner, Bateman literally came out of nowhere, hugged you from behind, and inhaled your scent with his eyes closed. Every little detail of you mattered, every little thing—the way you exhaled in surprise, almost jumping up, and the way you were embarrassed when he slipped his hands under your top to tease your nipples, making them hard and sensitive. And as the pot slowly simmered on the small fire, you both worshipped each other, giving everything you had, until Patrick reached his limit and lifted you up only to place you on the kitchen counter, wiping everything from its surface. Almost immediately, without wasting a second, the man began to undo your pants, kneading your breasts and leaving wet trails of kisses along your belly, and when he reached your mound, he nuzzled against it and you could swear you saw his eyes shimmer, but not from fire or anything. 

Were those tears?

…

You kept asking yourself the same question a month later. 

How many times did you read the notebook he gave you as his "main suprise" for Valentine's Day? The gift that unintentionally broke your heart and made you doubt if you could ever fall in love again. Holding a small notebook in your hands, you opened it and traced a finger along his somewhat chaotic handwriting, then the little doodles he made, until you turned several pages and stopped on the last one, where a beautiful doodle of your little figure was drawn. And that short phrase written in the top right corner that said 'I love you', that always made you cry, but after reading it so many times now, all you felt was a void. As if everything that made you feel alive had been erased from you in the most brutal way.

Why did he leave you like this? Why couldn't he just tell you that he had met someone else? Probably someone more beautiful by today's standards. Someone he would be proud to show off in public. Why did he choose to use the fear of hurting you as an excuse? Why?

You would never believe it. It was just impossible to believe that the man who treated you like his treasure could leave you because he was afraid of hurting you, because he thought you would find someone "better", because he thought he didn't deserve you at all. Covering your face in your hands, you closed your eyes and cried, the notebook falling to your feet. But the words written inside had already left deep scars on your mind.

"...all those days when I thought about losing you, I realized that I was so selfish, thinking only of myself and never of you. So now I'm finally thinking about you, my love. Please don't cry, I hate to see you cry. And please forgive me for everything I've done. There won't be a single day that I don't think about the time we spent together. I just want you to be happy and ALIVE. With me...that wouldn't be possible. I love you...I'm sorry. I really am."

The rain fell in a steady rhythm, tapping against the windowpane like a melancholy melody. Patrick stood in the shadows, just beyond the glow of the streetlamp, his coat damp and clinging to his shoulders. From here he could see you through the frosted glass of the café, sitting alone at a corner table, a book in your hands. You looked the same, but different. 

Concentrating on reading, you laughed at something in the book, and the sound carried through the glass, piercing his chest like a blade. Bateman wanted to go inside, to sit across from you and tell you everything—how he had never stopped loving you, how he had watched you from afar, how he had spent every day since he left you trying to become someone worthy of you. But he didn't move. He couldn't.

Because he knew that even now, after all this time, he still wasn't enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: sapphic books for imodna fans

Do you like your sapphics cursed and undead? Viciously devoted and perhaps a tad codependent? Blurring the line between platonic and romantic? Lonely, ostracized, and feared due to their reliance on a dark and possibly corrupt power? Occasionally possessed by evil? Flirting with the dark side just a little bit? Does your ideal couple look like this?

Then boy do I have the rec list for you!

A note: of course none of the books listed will be an imodna carbon copy, but they all have aspects which gave me similar vibes. Many are horror novels, and not all have happy endings; do with that what you will.

For details on the titles, continue below the readmore. My personal favorites are marked with an *. For more rec lists, take a look at my masterpost!

Providence Girls by Morgan Dante*

Historical horror re-imagining of several of H.P. Lovecraft’s works from the point of view of the women sidelined as victims in the originals. Forced to abandon her not-quite-human children to escape a cult seeking to sacrifice her, Lavinia nearly dies from exposure in the woods. She’s saved by the prickly Asenath. The two women find themselves growing close as Lavinia regains her strength. But Asenath’s own dark past is catching up, as she too begins to transform into something not entirely human.

Note: traumatized women haunted by eldritch horrors and shitty families finding purpose through their devotion to each other, even as transformations of body horror threaten to tear them apart.

My Darling Dreadful Thing by Johanna Van Veen*

Historical horror. Roos Beckman and her ghostly, corpse-like spirit companion Ruth have long been under the thumb of Roos' mama, forced to perform in seances and trick grieving people for money. But after widow Agnes Knoop visits a seance, the two strike up a connection and she offers Roos to come live at her estate, freeing Roos from her cruel mama. The estate and Knoop family hide dark secrets, but nothing can overshadow the growing connection between Roos and Agnes. Until, that is, a murder occurs, and Roos is the prime suspect.

Note: how are you supposed to build a romantic relationship when your only human connection before this is the spirit that haunts and possesses you.

Feast While You Can by Mikaella Clements & Onjuli Datta

Character driven horror. Angelina Sicco loves her small hometown of Cadenze, but as a lesbian, her relationship prospects there are slim. Having taken to attracting as many pretty tourists as possible, Angelina is shocked at the arrival of Jagvi, her brother's ex and her own teenage crush. An already complicated situation gets worse when something sets up shop in Angelina's head, whispering, taunting, and taking over her body. It wants to consume her whole, and the only thing that seems to repel it is Jagvi's touch.

Note: strong 'you are my tether' vibes.

Malice by Heather Walter

Fantasy, sleeping beauty retelling. Long ago, a wicked fairy cursed the princesses of the land to die unless they found and kissed their true love. Alyce, herself carrying a curse of dark magic in her blood that leaves her feared and ostracized, has other things to worry about - until she meets princess Aurora. Aurora doesn't fear or judge her, but rather encourages her to be proud of her powers. But Aurora's time is running out, and she has yet to find her true love. Alyce wishes she could help, but she knows how these stories go - Aurora is the princess, and Alyce is the villain.

Monstersona by Chloe Spencer

Young adult, sci-fi horror. After disaster strikes and her town is terrorized by a monster, sixteen-year-old Riley goes on the run with her dog Tigger and her traumatized classmate Aspen. With a conspiracy afoot and air travel grounded, the two girls set out on a cross-country road trip to reach Riley's dad. But Aspen has a dangerous secret, and the two keep finding themselves followed by a mysterious SUV. Will they reach safety before the harrowing truth catches up to silence them?

Note: would you follow your girlfriend if she turned into an uncontrollable monster creature?

The Spider and Her Demons by sydney khoo*

Young adult fantasy. All teenager Zhi wants is a normal life (and possibly for her harsh aunt to be a bit nicer), but it’s hard when she’s half spider demon. Every day she must conceal her true nature and hide in human guise. When she slips up and eats a man in front of her rich, aloof classmate Dior, Zhi thinks her life is over. But Dior has secrets of her own, and she is dead set on making herself part of Zhi's life.

Note: Queerplatonic with aroace vibes rather than explicitly romantic, with a dynamic reminiscent of the hard-to-categorize early imodna friendship.

The Mermaid’s Daughter by Ann Claycomb

A continuation on the classical fairy tale. Kathleen, up and coming opera singer, has suffered from a lifelong and unexplainable stabbing pain in her feet. As both her mother and grandmother died from suicide, possibly due to a similar condition, Kathleen’s girlfriend convinces her to try and find out more of her family history. More magical realism than full fantasy (with a lot of focus on the intricacies of opera) but very beautiful and bittersweet.

Note: inherited curses tempting you to commit dark deeds, and the love that pulls you in the other direction.

Hearts Still Beating by Brooke Archer

Young adult, post apocalypse. Three years after a zombie apocalypse hit, seventeen-year-old Mara comes back to life thanks to a new medication. Still struggling with the guilt of what she did as a zombie, Mara is sent to live with the family of her old best friend, who has since turned cold towards her. But with the zombie threat ever-present and one missed dose away from a relapse, public opinion towards the altered is dangerously low, and the two girls' messy feelings are the least of their troubles.

Note: childhood friends to sort-of-enemies to lovers, former undead with blood on her hands seeking redemption.

Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armifield

Horror. Miri thought she lost her wife Leah when her deep-sea mission ended in a catastrophe. But Leah was miraculously returned to her - or so it seems. Because something happened down there, deep in the ocean, and whatever it was, Leah has brought it back with her. She's changed and changing still, and Miri doesn't know what to do to keep her love with her. Surreal and strange, Our Wives Under the Sea will not answer all your questions, but it will give you a unique experience.

Note: the fear of losing your loved one to a strange and corrupting unearthly power.

The Invocations by Krystal Sutherland

Young adult horror. Zara Jones and Jude Wolf are in many ways different - one poor, the other the daughter of a billionaire - but they share their desperate search for the supernatural. Zara seeks a way to bring her murdered sister back to life, while Jude is plagued by a demonic curse that's slowly turning her soul necrotic. Their shared interest lead them to Emer Byrne, witch in hiding willing to do magic for desperate women and girls. But Emer's former clients have been turning up dead, and before she can help anyone they must come together to find the killer.

Note: messy girls, demonic patrons who may or may not wish you harm, suspect sources of great power, spooky sapphics.

This Monster Wants to Eat Me by Sai Naekawa

Manga. After losing her entire family to an accident as a child, Hinako has been unable to regain the will to live. When she meets a mermaid claiming Hinako's flesh would be especially delicious for a monster to devour, Hinako is prepared to embrace death. But the mermaid won't eat her yet; first, Hinako must reach peak deliciousness. For that to happen, she will have to find within herself the will to live.

Note: Imogen 'you could suck my soul' Temult would love this.

The Fall that Saved Us by Tamara Jerée*

Urban fantasy romance. Cassiel is of angelic heritage, raised to fight and kill demons alongside her family. But Cassiel has left the hunt and her family behind, wanting a normal life. For three years she's built a life for herself, cut off from her family, but now a demon has found her, sent to collect her soul. Except, the demon isn't any more interested in following the orders of her family than Cassiel is. Can they work together to free themselves from the expectations placed upon them?

Note: toxic families, healing from trauma, opposites attract demon/angel romance, and coming into your power without losing who you are.

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust

Young adult fantasy. Soraya may be a princess, but she's also cursed, her very skin poisonous to the touch. When a demon is captured and brought to the dungeons, Soraya hopes to gain from her knowledge of how to be freed from her affliction. Meanwhile, a boy enters her life, not scared of her like others but rather understanding of who she is. Between them, Soraya will have to choose who she is - princess or monster.

Note: princess and monster romance, but the princess is just as feared and cursed as the monster.

Night's Edge by Liz Kerin*

Vampire horror. After Mia's mother was infected by an illness that forces her to feed on blood to survive, Mia had to grow up fast. But after having lived under the radar for over a decade, feeding her mother with her own blood, Mia longs for a life of her own. As she befriends the pretty barista and musician Jade, Mia begins to think maybe she could build a relationship of her own after all. But a decade of blood is hard to escape, and Mia's mother won't let her go easy.

Note: if the toxic Laudna and Delilah dynamic intrigues you, you can't do better than this.

The Circle by Sara B. Elfgren & Mats Strandberg*

Young adult, urban fantasy. In the small town of Engelsfors, something has woken up. Dark forces are moving in, and only a prophesied chosen witch will be able to stop it. Only, there are more than one chosen, and they will have to learn to work together despite their differences. Struggling against demons, an overbearing council of witches, and regular teenage issues like bullying and first love, this group of girls must come together or the world will burn.

Note: The f/f ship is mostly subtext and build-up in the first book, but does get more central in the sequels.

Bitterthorn by Kat Dunn

Historical fantasy, sleeping beauty retelling. Living with a father and stepmother who barely see her, Mina has long felt unloved. When a feared Witch comes to fulfill a centuries old curse - claiming someone from the town to come be her companion - Mina volunteers herself. But in her rush to flee the loneliness of her old home, Mina now finds herself isolated in the Witch's castle instead. Secrets hides in the castle's tower, forbidden from Mina, and the Witch evades her every attempt to find out the truth even as the two inexorably grow closer. But they can't evade the Witch's curse forever.

Note: scary, isolated outcast witch meets lonely princess who hopes to break her dark curse.

Monstrous by Jessica Lewis

Young adult dark fantasy. Having been kicked out by her mother, Latavia is forced to spend her last summer before college living with her aunt and cousin in the strange little town of Sanctum. Unnerved by the creepy town and its secrets, Latavia can't wait to leave again - except she'll miss the cute girl working in the local ice cream shop. But Latavia's plans come to a halt when she's dragged into the forest and sacrificed to a monster. Luckily for her, the monster has its own goals, and it's willing to work with her for both of them to find vengeance.

Note: human sacrificing cults, monstrous patrons, and lots of discussions of trauma.

The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow*

Young Adult dystopia. In a future in where peace is upheld by an all-powerful AI keeping the children of world leaders hostage, Greta has lived an isolated life away from her family. If her country is ever to enter a war, she will be executed, forcing her to live in constant fear. But things start to change one day when a new, less obedient hostage arrives.

Note: A unique, slowburn take on the YA dystopian craze, also featuring a bisexual love triangle, best friends to lovers, breaking of cycles, and the risk of losing your humanity to a possibly corruptive greater force.

Bonus books I haven't read!

Babylove by I.S. Belle

Young adult. To avoid summer school, goth girl Frankie Tanner is convinced to help Ivy Wexler, a cheerleader who just resurrected her dead cat.

Two Broke Witches by Kate Starling

Fantasy romance. Delilah and Iris, death witch and nature witch respectively, have been rooming together for a year, ignoring their attraction for each other. But when they come at risk of losing their home, they must come together to save their apartment building.

Ghost Walk by Kay Solo

Orphaned and feared for her ability to see the dead, Maaya Sahni has spent her life keeping her head down. But when an entire street of people are disappeared by terrifying, faceless specters, it's up to Maaya, a friendly ghost with no memory, a strange man, and a beautiful pirate captain to save the day.

The Maiden and Her Monster by Maddie Martinez

When the monster of the woods kills a girl and Malka's mother is accused of her murder, Malka strikes a deal: lure out the monster and her mother will be spared. But the monster isn't what she expected, but rather a disgraced golem who offers her own deal: she will willingly hand herself over, but first Malka must help save the rabbi who created her.

The Untimely Undeath of Imogen Madrigal by Grayson Daly

Serving at the convent of the Sisterhood of Good Death, Maeve works to shepherd souls into the afterlife. But when the poet Imogen Madrigal returns from the dead not as a spirit but in the flesh, Maeve is given a new purpose: find Imogen's murderer.

The Coldest Touch by Isabel Sterling

Young adult fantasy. Elise is cursed to see her loved ones' deaths with but a touch. After having failed to prevent her brother's death, she's desperate for any way to be rid of her curse. Claire is a vampire assigned to help the unwilling Elise master her ability.

Honorary mentions AKA this one didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like it:

Witching Moon by Poppy Woods

A witch accidentally summons the literal moon, who just so happens to be a very beautiful woman, into her house. Shenanigans ensue.

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 25

word count: 5.0k

The next morning arrived with a flurry of responsibilities for both Aspen and Harry. Her schedule was packed—starting with a 10 AM lecture that stretched an hour and a half, followed by two more classes, both with looming exams. Meanwhile, Harry had a back-to-back lineup of clients at the shop, as did Zayn and Niall.

Despite the busy day ahead, Aspen moved with a lightness in her step, a dreamy haze lingering from the night before. She hummed softly under her breath as she slung her bag over her shoulder, fingers brushing against the strap as she adjusted it. With a quick swipe, she tucked her phone into her pocket, her ponytail bouncing as she padded toward the kitchen, still lost in the events of last night.

The moment she stepped into the room, her gaze landed on a bouquet resting on the counter, wrapped in delicate white paper. The flowers were breathtaking—soft pink lilies and creamy white roses nestled together, tiny sprigs of baby's breath woven throughout. A single tulip lay beside it, its petals fresh with morning dew. Aspen's lips parted slightly, a warm blush creeping onto her cheeks before she even had the chance to ask.

Isobel, who stood at the stove stirring eggs in a pan, glanced over her shoulder with a knowing grin. "Harry stopped by this morning while you were still asleep. Left those for you."

Aspen's heart gave a little flutter. He came by? She stepped closer, fingers brushing over the velvety petals as she took in their soft fragrance. It was such a simple gesture, but it made her chest bloom with something warm and golden.

Her gaze flickered to the side, noticing another bouquet in a vase by the sink—this one different, scattered with a mix of wildflowers and a single sunflower standing tall in the center.

"Harry dropped something off for me too, from Zayn," Isobel added, reaching for the salt to sprinkle over the eggs. "A sunflower, because I mentioned I liked them once. Cute, right?"

Aspen's fingers traced the smooth edges of the paper wrapping, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness behind it all. "They really are something else," she murmured, before her eyes landed on the small folded note tucked beneath the bouquet.

Her breath caught as she picked it up, unfolding the paper with careful fingers.

"My darling Asp,

Good morning! I wish I could have seen you before I had to go, but you were soundly and peacefully asleep. Thank you for last night. Being with you is an incredible feeling that I can never get without you. I miss you every second, and I love you. Best of luck with today, sweet girl.

Harry. X"

Aspen pressed her lips together, her fingers gripping the note a little tighter as she read over his words again. It was simple, effortless—but it was him. The sincerity, the affection—it settled deep in her heart like an embrace she could carry with her all day.

"You're grinning like an idiot," Isobel teased, bumping Aspen's hip with hers as she turned off the stove.

Aspen only let out a soft laugh, cheeks still warm. "I can't help it." She carefully folded the note and slipped it into her bag, a keepsake she knew she'd revisit more times than she'd admit.

She turned her attention back to the flowers, gently tucking them into a glass vase, arranging them just right before setting them next to Isobel's. They looked beautiful there—like little remnants of love left behind.

"Oh, yeah! Harry brought me the sunflower along with Zayn's bouquet, and Zayn tagged on a tulip for you," Isobel added, nodding toward the single tulip still resting on the counter. "Something for both of us."

Aspen reached for the tulip, twirling it between her fingers before glancing over at her friend. Without thinking, she moved closer, looping her arm through Isobel's and resting her head on her shoulder with a small, content sigh.

"You're okay with that, right?" Aspen asked after a moment, her voice soft. "It doesn't make you uncomfortable that Harry got you something? Or that Zayn got me something?" She tilted her head up slightly, suddenly feeling a little shy about it.

Isobel let out an easy laugh, shaking her head as she set down the spatula. "Asp, don't be ridiculous. Of course not." She turned slightly, nudging Aspen playfully. "I think it's sweet how they take care of us both. Honestly, it's kind of adorable."

Aspen exhaled a quiet breath of relief, her small smile returning. She didn't doubt Harry's intentions—not for a second. But hearing Isobel say it so easily made that warmth in her chest settle even deeper.

She glanced back at the flowers one last time, unable to resist the way her fingers skimmed over the petals again. She wasn't sure how she got so lucky—how she found someone who loved her in such quiet, thoughtful ways. But she wasn't going to waste a second of it.

After slipping the note safely into her bag, Aspen grabbed her phone and made her way toward the front door. She still had time before class, and though she knew Harry was already at the shop, she wanted to hear his voice—just for a little bit.

The cool morning air greeted her as she stepped outside, the scent of dew still lingering in the breeze. She pulled her phone from her pocket, heart doing a little flip as she tapped on Harry's contact. It barely rang twice before his deep, familiar voice came through.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Aspen smiled, the warmth in his tone already making her stomach flutter. "Hi, H." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she balanced her phone between her shoulder and ear, adjusting the strap of her bag as she started toward campus. "I just wanted to thank you for the flowers—and the note. That was really sweet of you."

She heard the faint hum of background noise, the occasional buzzing of a tattoo gun in the distance. Harry let out a soft chuckle. "Yeah? You liked 'em?"

"I loved them," Aspen admitted softly, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks. "I—I wasn't expecting it, but it made my morning, so... thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, sunshine. Just wanted to do something nice for my girl." His voice was smooth, affectionate, and she could practically hear the smile in it. "I wish I could've been there to see your face when you found 'em."

Aspen bit her lip, her cheeks warming further. "Isobel said you stopped by this morning. You must have been up so early."

"Didn't mind it," Harry replied easily. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't wanna wake you."

The image of him standing outside her apartment, dropping off flowers while she was still curled up in bed, made her chest tighten in the best way. He was always so thoughtful in ways that made her fall for him over and over again.

"Oh! And tell Zayn I said thank you too," she added, remembering the tulip. "The flowers were beautiful."

"I will," Harry promised. "He'll probably say somethin' dumb like 'you're welcome, but I'm still the prettier one' or whatever."

Aspen giggled. "Sounds like him."

"Mm. Speaking of which, he and I were talking this morning—figured we'd swing by later after my shift, if you're up for some company."

Her heart leapt slightly at the thought of seeing him so soon. "Really?"

"Yeah, baby. Thought we could all hang out for a bit. Unless you're sick of me already."

Aspen rolled her eyes, though her smile never wavered. "You know I could never be."

Harry let out a content sigh. "Good. 'Cause I miss you already."

Her blush deepened, and she was grateful there weren't many people around to witness how flustered she'd become. "You just saw me last night."

"Exactly."

Aspen shook her head, but the giddiness in her chest wouldn't fade. "Well... I'd love to see you later. I've got exams today, but once I'm done, I'll be free."

"You're gonna do amazing," Harry assured her. "I just know it. My girl's brilliant."

Aspen smiled at the conviction in his voice, her nerves about the exams easing slightly.

"I hope so."

"I know so," he corrected, and she swore she could hear the smirk in his voice.

Before she could respond, she heard someone calling Harry's name in the background, followed by the faint rustling of movement.

"Shit—gotta go, sunshine. Client just walked in."

"Oh—okay! Good luck today," she said softly, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"You too, sun. I'll see you tonight, yeah? I love you."

"Yeah. I love you, Harry."

"Bye, baby."

"Bye, H."

The call ended, and Aspen sighed dreamily, pressing her phone to her chest for a moment before shaking herself out of it.

Time for class.

The next few hours passed in a blur of lectures and exams, but Aspen found herself feeling more confident than she had in a while. Maybe it was Harry's unwavering belief in her, or maybe it was the lingering warmth from his morning surprise, but either way—she tackled each exam with steady determination.

By the time she handed in her last test, she felt good.

She wasn't naive—she knew she wouldn't be scoring a perfect 100, but she had done her best. And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.

As she exited the lecture hall, a cool afternoon breeze brushing past her, she pulled her phone out and shot a quick text to Harry.

Aspen: just finished my exams! i think they actually went really well. thank you for the extra confidence boost this morning. you were right. ☺️

She didn't expect an immediate response—he was likely still with a client—but seeing his name in her messages sent another wave of warmth through her.

Feeling lighter, she made her way back home, where the familiar scent of Isobel's cooking greeted her as soon as she stepped inside.

Isobel looked up from the counter where she was slicing vegetables, eyebrows raising. "Well? How'd it go?"

Aspen set her bag down and leaned against the counter, her lips curving into a soft smile. "I think... I actually did really well."

Isobel's face lit up. "Yes! I knew you would." She wiped her hands on a towel before reaching over to pull Aspen into a quick hug. "I'm so proud of you."

Aspen melted into the embrace, grateful for the support.

"Oh—by the way," she said as she pulled back. "Harry and Zayn might stop by later."

Isobel smirked knowingly. "Might?"

Aspen rolled her eyes. "Will, then."

"Mhm," Isobel teased. "Y'know, you might as well just give him a spare key at this point."

Aspen's cheeks flared with heat. "Oh, my God—stop."

Isobel cackled, clearly enjoying herself, but she softened a second later. "I think it's sweet, though. He really adores you, you know."

Aspen bit her lip, trying (and failing) to suppress the smile spreading across her face. "I know."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The metallic click of the shop door's lock echoed in the quiet street as Harry twisted the key, securing the entrance for the night. Zayn stood beside him, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket while Niall let out a yawn, stretching his arms overhead.

"Long-ass day," Niall muttered, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "I swear, if I see another drunk walk-in trying to get their ex's name inked, I'm quitting."

Zayn smirked. "No, you're not."

"Yeah, probably not," Niall admitted with a chuckle. "Anyway, you two heading out?"

"Yeah, we're gonna stop by Aspen and Isobel's," Harry replied, pocketing his keys. "You coming?"

Niall tilted his head in thought. "I'll think about it. Gotta shower first. Maybe I'll swing by after."

As Niall stuffed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, he took a few steps back from the shop, rolling his shoulders with an exhausted sigh. "Well, I'm off. If I don't show up later, I either fell asleep or changed my mind. Probably both," he quipped, flashing a lazy smirk.

Zayn smirked back. "Your loss, mate."

"Yeah, yeah," Niall waved a dismissive hand, turning on his heel. "Tell Aspen and Isobel I said hi."

Harry chuckled, watching as Niall sauntered down the dimly lit street, his footsteps soft against the pavement. The streetlights overhead buzzed faintly, casting a dull orange glow that barely reached the edges of the alleyways. The night was quiet aside from the occasional distant honk or the muffled chatter of pedestrians from a few blocks away.

Then, as Niall rounded a corner and disappeared from view—

A low, slow hum broke the silence.

Harry's fingers instinctively curled around the key in his hand, his grip tightening as the unmistakable sound of tires rolling over asphalt crawled into his ears. It wasn't just any car. The deep, steady purr of the engine was too smooth, too controlled—something expensive, something deliberate.

Zayn stiffened beside him, the air shifting between them as their bodies went rigid with awareness. They didn't have to look to know who it was.

The vehicle prowled toward them like a shadow slipping through the night, its sleek black exterior barely reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights. The tinted windows were impossibly dark, swallowing any trace of the inside. It came to a calculated stop just feet away, the silence that followed more deafening than the noise itself.

For a moment, nothing happened.

The two of them stood still, breath shallow, instincts screaming that they were being watched from behind the blackened glass. The cool night air suddenly felt suffocating, wrapping around them like a vice.

Click.

The back passenger door unlatched, creaking open ever so slightly, just enough to reveal the shadowed interior.

A pause.

Then, a voice— low, composed, laced with an almost lazy amusement that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck rise.

"Get in."

Leone.

Neither of them moved at first. Zayn's jaw ticked, his fingers twitching at his sides, but he remained still. Harry, meanwhile, swallowed down the sharp unease slithering through his chest. He wasn't afraid—not exactly—but there was a certain heaviness to moments like these, a silent knowledge that once they stepped into that car, they were at the mercy of whatever came next.

Harry cast a glance toward Zayn, whose dark eyes met his for a split second—calculating, resigned.

Without another word, they moved.

Zayn slid in first, followed by Harry, their muscles coiled tight as the door shut behind them with a soft but final thud. The scent of leather and faint traces of cologne clung to the air inside, thick and almost suffocating.

Silence.

Harry's pulse drummed steadily against his ribs, but his expression remained unreadable, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting as he settled into the seat.

The car pulled away from the curb, smooth and soundless, vanishing into the depths of the city like it had never been there at all.

Leone sat ahead of them, silent. The only sound was the faint rumble of the tires over asphalt and the rhythmic, menacing click of Leone's ring tapping against the leather seat.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Harry shifted slightly, the movement slow, deliberate. Carefully, he slid his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the screen as he typed out a quick message.

Harry: Small delay. Be there soon. Don't worry.

He pressed send just as the car hit a rough patch in the road, using the movement to subtly tuck his phone away again. He barely had time to settle before a pair of cold eyes flicked toward him in the rearview mirror.

Leone had noticed.

Harry held his breath, keeping his expression even as the man studied him for a second too long before turning his gaze back ahead.

The car pulled into a secluded alleyway, weaving through dark streets until they reached a rundown building with boarded windows and a rusting fire escape hanging loose from its side. The tires crunched over gravel as the vehicle rolled to a stop.

The doors swung open again.

Two men—large, broad-shouldered, faces shadowed under the dim streetlights—grabbed them roughly, yanking them out of the car.

Harry barely had time to react before a firm hand shoved him forward, nearly making him stumble. He caught himself with a hiss, but the grip on his arm tightened.

"The fuck is this?" Zayn growled, voice low as he tried to shake off the hold on him, but it was useless.

Neither man answered.

They were hauled inside the dark building, the air thick with dust and the faint scent of gasoline and damp wood. The floor creaked beneath their boots as they were forced forward into an empty, cavernous space.

Then, without warning, a shove.

Harry crashed into a chair, the wood scraping sharply against the floor. His arms were wrenched behind him, rough rope biting into his wrists as they were bound tightly to the backrest. Zayn suffered the same fate beside him, both of them cursing under their breaths as they struggled against the binds.

Heavy footfalls retreated.

Silence.

Thick, suffocating darkness enveloped them.

Harry's breaths came slow and measured, his jaw clenched as he tried to adjust his grip against the restraints. Zayn sat just as tense beside him, his breathing sharp through his nose.

Minutes passed.

A single overhead bulb flickered to life, bathing the room in a sickly yellow glow. The light cast harsh shadows against the walls, making the space feel smaller, more suffocating.

Footsteps echoed from the far end of the room.

Steady. Unhurried.

Leone stepped into view.

A cold smirk curled at the edge of his lips, his hands slipping into the pockets of his tailored coat as he took his time closing the distance between them.

"Well," he murmured, tilting his head slightly as his sharp gaze swept over them. "We have a lot to talk about."

The silence in the dimly lit room was suffocating, thick with tension and the stale scent of cigarettes and sweat. The air was damp, clinging to Harry's skin as he flexed his wrists against the rough rope binding them to the wooden chairs. His fingers curled into fists as he forced himself to breathe evenly, his jaw tight with controlled rage. Zayn sat beside him, his own expression hardened, dark eyes glaring up at the man who stood before them.

Leone.

He was dressed as he always was—meticulous, precise. A deep navy button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the ink that crawled up his forearms. He took his time dragging a slow inhale from the cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a plume of smoke that drifted lazily above their heads. Behind him stood two of his men, their presence looming, watching—waiting.

"Well," Leone finally murmured, his voice smooth, almost conversational, as he took a step closer. "We have a lot to talk about."

Neither Harry nor Zayn responded.

Leone exhaled through his nose, flicking a bit of ash onto the ground as he took another step forward, his boots echoing against the concrete floor. He rolled his shoulders before tilting his head slightly, studying them as if they were nothing more than disobedient children.

"I'd really hate to believe that two of my most reliable guys—two boys I've given so much to—would fuck me over." His voice was laced with mock disappointment, shaking his head as he clicked his tongue. "But imagine my surprise when I go to count my money from the other night, and I come up short."

Harry's muscles tensed. His stomach curled with disgust as Leone crouched down to their level, holding up a single finger.

"Over a thousand fucking dollars short."

Zayn's jaw ticked, but he kept quiet, his eyes flickering toward Harry, whose breathing had deepened, nostrils flaring.

Leone turned slightly, nodding toward one of his men. "Tell them what you told me."

The man took a step forward, his expression impassive. "They counted up eight grand. That's what they gave us."

Leone hummed, dragging the cigarette to his lips before blowing the smoke directly in Harry's face. "Yeah, except when I counted, there was only seven."

Harry clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to recoil from the smoke burning his throat. His blood simmered beneath his skin, his restraint hanging by a thread.

"We didn't fucking take your money." His voice was sharp, cutting through the thick air like a blade. Cold and firm, unwavering.

Leone chuckled.

And then, before Harry could react, the cigarette was dragged along the side of his neck, the faint sting of heat trailing along his inked skin before—

Crack.

A sharp slap landed against Harry's face, the force snapping his head to the side. A searing burn blossomed across his cheek, the sharp edge of a ring breaking skin. A faint trickle of blood slipped down toward his jaw, but he remained still, his fists curling tighter beneath the ropes. His ears rang slightly, but the white-hot anger inside of him burned louder.

Leone tilted his head, taking in the sight of Harry's bleeding cheek with a smirk. "If you didn't take it, where the fuck is it?"

Zayn straightened, his voice firm. "We counted exactly what we got. We didn't pocket a single fucking dollar."

Smack.

This time, the blow landed across Zayn's face, sending his head snapping to the side. He let out a low hiss, jaw clenching, but he refused to give Leone the satisfaction of a reaction.

Leone sighed, feigning disappointment as he shook his head. "You really expect me to just take your word for it?" He turned slightly, pacing in front of them as he took another drag of his cigarette. "That's the problem with you two. You think you're untouchable. Think you can do whatever the fuck you want without consequences."

Harry's teeth gritted. "We didn't fucking take from you."

Another hit—this time a brutal punch to Zayn's stomach from one of Leone's men. He gasped slightly, swallowing down the sharp pain, his head dipping forward for a brief second before he lifted it again, eyes burning with defiance.

Leone turned to Harry. "What about you, huh?" He crouched down again, tilting his head. "You gonna tell me the truth, or are we gonna have to keep playing this little game?"

Harry's lip curled, his voice dry. "Go fuck yourself."

Another hit.

This time, one of Leone's men slammed a fist into Zayn's ribs, forcing a rough grunt from his lips as his body lurched slightly against the chair. He exhaled sharply through his nose, nostrils flaring, but he refused to let them see him break.

The cycle continued. Accusations. Retaliation. A hit for every defense.

Leone spewed filth at them, words laced with venom, taunting and cruel. He degraded them, calling them ungrateful little shits, mocking the way they sat tied up like weaklings. He told them they were nothing without him, that they owed him, that he made them.

Minutes passed of the pain lingering and blood dripping alongside the harsh words.

Harry spat.

A mixture of blood and saliva landed near Leone's expensive shoes, just inches from where he stood.

His scowl deepened as he lifted his head, voice razor-sharp with venom.

"Check the fucking cameras."

Silence.

Leone's eyes darkened.

Harry held his gaze, his chest rising and falling steadily, unfazed. His jaw was tight, his cheek throbbing, but he didn't care.

A tense moment passed.

Without a word, Leone turned on his heel and disappeared into the next room. The only sounds left were the faint buzz of the flickering bulb overhead and the uneven breathing of the two boys.

Zayn exhaled through his nose, rolling his aching shoulders. "Think he'll actually check?"

Harry flexed his fingers. "Doesn't have a fucking choice."

Minutes crawled by, stretching thick and heavy. Finally Leone returned. A slow, amused smile stretched across his lips, his eyes glinting with something sickly amused.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, placing his hands on his hips. "Looks like my men made a mistake in miscommunication."

He took another step forward, crouching slightly to tilt his head at them.

"You're free to go."

Harry's lip curled in disgust. Fucking bastard.

The ropes burned against Harry's wrists as one of Leone's men roughly untied the knots, yanking them free with a final jerk that sent a sharp sting through his already bruised skin. Zayn let out a quiet grunt beside him, shaking out his own hands as soon as they were free, rolling his sore wrists with a scowl.

"Get the fuck out," one of the men sneered before a forceful shove sent Harry stumbling forward. He caught himself at the last second, his muscles coiling as he clenched his jaw.

Another shove.

Zayn staggered slightly but caught his footing just as they were both forced through the metal door, spilling out into the dark alleyway behind the building.

The heavy steel door slammed shut behind them, the echo of it reverberating through the narrow space. A streetlight flickered at the far end of the alley, casting a sickly glow over the cracked pavement and scattered debris. The air was damp, filled with the faint scent of mildew and trash, and the sound of distant traffic hummed in the background.

Neither of them spoke at first.

They just stood there, breathing heavily, the weight of what had just happened settling into their bones.

Zayn was the first to move. He exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his shoulders before swiping a hand across his mouth, wiping away a smear of blood. "Fuck," he muttered, shaking his head. "That was some bullshit."

Harry huffed a humorless laugh, pressing his fingers against his throbbing cheek. The cut Leone had left behind was warm and wet, the sting of broken skin sharp under his touch. "Yeah," he muttered, "no shit."

Zayn turned slightly, scanning their surroundings before letting out a low curse. "Where the fuck even are we?"

Harry sighed, glancing up at the looming buildings that surrounded them. The streets were unfamiliar, the alleyway giving no clear indication of which part of town they were in. His body ached, his ribs sore from the hits, but they had to keep moving.

"We need to go to Aspen and Isobel's," Harry said after a moment. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Zayn turned to him with a questioning look. "Are you serious?"

Harry wiped the back of his hand across his busted lip, nodding. "Yeah. If we don't show up, it'll look suspicious."

Zayn scoffed, running a hand through his dark hair before letting it drop back to his side. "Mate, we look like we just got the shit beaten out of us."

"We did just get the shit beaten out of us."

Zayn gave him a look, and despite everything, Harry let out a small smirk. It hurt like hell, pulling at his busted lip, but it was something.

Zayn exhaled. "We need to clean up first."

Harry pulled his phone from his pocket, the bright screen illuminating his bruised knuckles as he quickly scrolled through his contacts. He found Aspen's name and hit call, bringing the phone to his ear as he and Zayn started making their way toward the street.

The phone rang twice before Aspen's sweet voice came through the line.

"Hi, Harry."

Something in Harry's chest tightened. Even through the pain, her voice was like a balm, easing the sharpest edges of his anger.

"Hey, baby," he murmured, his voice softer than he expected. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture as he forced a casual tone. "Listen, there was a bit of an accident at my place. Zayn and I were putting away some kitchen supplies I ordered, a blender and such for those milkshakes you wanted, and the shelf came loose. Stuff came crashing down, and I—uh—got a little knick on my face."

Aspen's sharp intake of breath made him wince, guilt tugging at his ribs. "Are you okay?"

Harry forced a small chuckle, glancing at Zayn as they stepped out onto the street. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. It's just a scratch, really. We're gonna clean up, and we'll be over soon."

She hesitated, but she didn't seem suspicious. "Okay," she said softly. "Just—be careful, please?"

Harry smiled faintly, nodding even though she couldn't see him. "Always."

They exchanged a few more words before Aspen told him she'd see him soon. When the call ended, Harry let out a slow breath, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

Zayn gave him a look. "Kitchen supplies? A blender?"

Harry shrugged. "It was the first thing I could think of."

Zayn snorted, shaking his head. "She bought it?"

Harry nodded, adjusting his pace as they moved down the street. "Didn't question it."

Zayn exhaled. "Lucky bastard."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before they spotted a small pub on the corner of the street. The neon sign above the entrance flickered slightly, casting a dull red glow onto the sidewalk.

"This'll do," Harry muttered, nodding toward the entrance.

They shoved their way inside, ignoring the lingering stares from a few patrons as they made a beeline for the restrooms. Once inside, Harry turned the faucet on, cupping his hands beneath the cool stream of water before splashing it onto his face. The sting was immediate, but he gritted his teeth through it, watching as diluted blood swirled down the drain.

Zayn stood beside him, dabbing at his split lip with a damp paper towel. "We should start charging him for this shit," he muttered. "Hazard pay."

Harry huffed a quiet laugh, running wet fingers through his curls before examining himself in the mirror. The cut on his cheek wasn't deep, but it was noticeable. His lip was swollen, and his knuckles were raw. A small patch of deep blues and greens started to swell under his eye, but an ice pack should have it gone in no time.

Zayn looked just as rough. A dark bruise was already forming along his jaw, and there was a red mark on his temple.

"We look like hell," Zayn muttered.

Harry wiped his face with a dry paper towel before tossing it into the trash. "Yeah, well, let's just hope the girls don't notice." The man twisted his fingers around each wrist, soothing the burn of the rope. It wasn't enough to leave a mark, but it hurt like hell for now.

Zayn gave him a flat look. "They're women. They notice everything."

Harry sighed. "I'll figure it out."

After cleaning up as much as they could, they made their way back to the bar, asking the bartender where exactly they were. Luckily, they were only a fifteen-minute walk from Aspen's place.

As they stepped back out onto the street, Zayn shoved his hands into his pockets. "What if Leone pulls this shit again?"

Harry glanced at him, his jaw tight. "Then we deal with it."

Zayn let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of."

They walked in silence for a moment, the cool night air biting against their bruised skin.

"You know," Zayn said suddenly, "we could just—get out. Cut ties. Leave all this shit behind."

Harry scoffed. "You think it's that easy?"

Zayn sighed. "No. But I don't know how many more times we can do this."

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "We'll figure it out."

Zayn didn't respond.

Because they both knew— deep down— that they weren't getting out that easily.

[hogwartsstudentconfidential]

Update Hogwarts Confidential

Hello my good people. It has been a very boring week. You all need to step up your game. But since there's less gossip there's going to be more updates and bs, cause why not.

Starting with this weekend is Ravenclaws final game of the season. In the game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is supposedly hosting a board game night tonight whether they win or lose so dress comfy and get ready for the most competitive board game night ever.

After board game night, Hogwarts will begin setting up for the loveliest holiday, Valentine's Day. We will have mini cupids and even house elves set up to deliver love letters and telegrams to send to those you love. Professor Slughorn has even convinced Dumbledore to allow anonymous telegrams to take place.

And since I have nothing else to write for announcements I guess we'll hop back into our weekly gossip.

Starting with this previous weekend Phoenix Harvey and Jamie Ho preformed at karaoke night, both showing up in the best suits ever, showing off their hot bodies (especially Phoenix, I mean I could cook a steak on those steamy abs), then ending the night with a steamy kiss. Just kidding, we all know it was two bros showing each other some love and I believe calling a small truce.

Speaking of Phoenix the boy seems to have met up with Ho’s stunning girlfriend, Anastasia Selwyn. The two were caught hanging out in the snow before disappearing off into the woods where I believe the two actually finally kissed. I think Ho has gotten a little too trusting with the two while he's away.

Congrats Mr. Ho on your quidditch interviews.

Now onto a totally different couple(?) Aspen Parker and Noah Montague seem to be getting really close. The two were seen mingling and might I say heavily flirting at karaoke night before disappearing together and I believe I saw Aspen making her way to the older boys dorm just last night.

And another couple- why are there so many couples? Do y'all actually like each other? What is going on- is love actually in the air?

And on to our final couple for this week (boring), Xenophilius and oh wait this isn't about their girlfriend, this is about their secret relationship with none other than Lucius Malfoy. Xenophilius and Lucius were caught talking and even confessing their feelings to one another. Xeno even going as far as feeling the need to break up with his new girlfriend, Pandora. The two concluded their confession with parting ways instead, the boys guilt becoming too much for him to break up with the girl. But to be honest I called this soooo long ago. Pandora, honey, get your man. Xeno, sweetie, get your shit together. Lucius, darling, stop trying to ruin Pandora's relationships.

Anyways that's all for this week! Catch ya next time on Hogwarts Confidential!

Tah Tah 💋

@james-the-amazing-potter @starlight-starbright-thatsme @looneymoonyy @wormy-loves-ch33se @mystical-magical-me @king-ofthe-crop @xeno-graphical @rodolphus-le-strange @averykissableguy @fire-allayer @poison-penmanship @lifeofthe-barty @whokilledevanrosier @pandoras-nox @little-king-official @cas-not-the-band @marls-mckinn0n @hjonesworld @mary-mcdeal @emmelineandhervans @sybill-patricia-trelawney @lilytheginger @alicethekindone @andromedashoax @the-queen-bellatrix @severusprince-snape @fabian-with-an-f @mollberryshortcake @fawningamos @k1ndest-keeper @aelius-with-a-quill @annajohn-silvae @adam-lukas-morningstar @imogenmorningstar @oxxen--free @camille-laurier @luciagraham @your-favourite-callie @addison-caddel @daughter-of-spring @magandang-kaluluwa @flyasaphoenix @tjsinclairofficial @secretlifeof-asher @toby-newtman-tics @bones-and-edgar @ted-the-teddy-tonks @scattered-across-thesky @alectocrow @lucius-malfoy-back

[aspenvelaz]

Meanwhile with aspen...

TW: gory, gonna get worse in RBs, proceed with caution

Aspen is standing in the corridor of Mictlan’s palace, outside his door. Not many things scare the demon, but the prospect of knocking on the dark stone door has them trembling. It’s been years, so many that Aspen almost wants to forget the idea and leave. They knock before fear can root itself more. They need his help. Three knocks, three seconds apart each. They count the five seconds before the door swings open and he stands in front of them. He smiles, and it’s positively horrifying to Aspen. Really, he’s just baring his teeth, which doesn’t shock Aspen in the slightest. He had always been the viciously cruel type, which makes sense considering the civilizations he watched over.

“Umm..I know its been a while but I need help…and you’re you…”

“Come sit darling, I can see your troubles already but please tell me whats wrong.”

The words would have been sweet were it not for the tone they were spoken in, but Aspen knows him better than to take his words as anything but an underhanded threat either way. Nothing he says is ever truly meant to be kind. He will help Aspen, they know that much, it just wont be for their sake. They don’t bother trying to convince themself that maybe he does care about them. He doesn’t, he never has and he never will. However, he’s their best bet.

“Well…I mean you can see the issue right?”

“I can, did you burn up again?”

“I did…but this time someone tried to help me and he restored me physically but I was still burning and now…well…”

They gesture to their current state, which was…not the best. To put it lightly: their bones were still burning and so all of their muscle and soft tissue had simply detached. To put it less lightly: their normally healthy dark skin was greying and falling off in chunks. Along with their muscle, tissue, and even their nerves and tendons. They were essentially just bone.

“Of course I’ll help you. You’ve always been my favorite child after all. Say, could you help me with something afterwards?”

“…Yes. Just fix it. Please.”

“Not even asking what you’re agreeing to?”

“I have a pretty good guess.”

They sit in their designated spot on the sofa, letting him put a hand over their eyes. They feel the dizziness wash over them, and attempt to lay back. He puts a hand on their exposed spine to stop them from doing so, and within seconds they’re unconscious.

[thesleepy1]

Spring Lovelies

A/N: Just a quick fic before I fall asleep. Watching season 3 has gotten me in a writing mood. I miss my Eskel so much. I love him. :)))

Pairings: Eskle x Reader 

Summary: With spring just around the corner, Eskel takes you to welcome the new arrival. 

Or, Lil’ Bleater has even an littler bleater. 

Word count: 557

Warnings: NONE! :D 

With spring so near, the mornings were cool but the days were warm. When noon arrived, so did the sun and the open sky. The world was so expansive without a single cloud in sight. The songbirds took to the vastness just like fish to the deep sea. The day was filled with their tunes as you worked in the fields. Music flowed with the gentle, coy breezes. 

Blooming flowers litter the air with their intoxicating scent. Fat, furry bumble bees flew beneath your hands as you gathered dandelions and clover for Lil’ Bleater. She will be marking the beginning of spring with a little bleater of her own. 

“Spring has come early,” came a voice from the top of the hill. Eskel called down to you, his voice hurried. 

You ran up to meet him, bouquet gripped tightly in your hand. “How is she?” you asked the moment you reached the tall Witcher. “Is she alright? How is the kid? Did it make it?” Your words came in quick succession. You searched his amber gaze for any sign of something having gone wrong. “Oh, Eskel, how is Lil’ Bleater?” 

He smiled at you. After so many years on the Path, his eyes crinkled with the show of emotion. His teeth showed as well, he was so happy. “She’s well. I have someone I would be honored if you met.” Eskel reached for your hand and you met him. His palm was warm, coarse, and oh so gentle holding yours. 

“Is it a girl? A boy? Oh, have you decided on a name, Eskel?” 

Eskel chuckled, a sound like Maytime song and festive music. “I haven’t. I thought you should name her.” 

“Her?” You matched his expression, bringing your clasped hands to your lips. “I can’t decide. Daisy, Rosie, Posey? I don’t even know. Aspen, Hazel, Willow? It's too soon. River, Brooke, Marina? Oh, Eskel, what will we do?” 

Over your musing, you and Eskel had made it back to the farm in no time. The barn doors were open and you could make out Lil’ Bleater and her kid towards the back. The darling was so small. She could fit into your arms and you would still have room to carry a basket. Her fur was white as flour, snow, and parchment. Her snout was the loveliest shade of pink. She was the concept of love and affection made solid. 

“She’s precious,” you gasped.

“She’s healthy and feeding well. Lil’ Bleater will need time to recover but she’s doing well.” Eskel brought your hand up to kiss it as well. “Would you like to greet them?”

You moved slowly, mindful of how your presence could be perceived by the new mother. When you got close enough to the pair, you got onto your knees and sat down next to the doe and her kid. “Hello, my loves.” You gave Lil’ Bleater her bouquet, which was well received by the exhausted mom. 

“Have you landed on a name?” 

“Not quite, but she’s so lovely. Can we call her that?” You looked up at Eskel. “Lovely?” 

His expression softened more, if that was even possible. “Of course.” He sat down next to you and the pair. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “Lil’ Bleater and her daughter, Lovely. I think it's perfect. They’re perfect.”  

[heartfullofleeches]

Aspen [Assassin Housewife Yan]: Dearest? What are your thoughts on having a jacuzzi added to the house? I still have quite a lot saved from my, er... retirement so money isn't a trouble at all. It's growing colder by the day. I'd hate for you to feeeze-

Darling: Don't dance around the real reason. You still want me in a bikini despite it being cold enough to freeze my nipples off out here.

Aspen: ....Growing up, my caregivers had me and the rest of children take ice bathes outside to adapt to the harsh winters... I couldn't possibly subject you to that same training.

Darling: Why do you always pull the Russian orphan card when you think I'm going to say no?

Aspen: ...Because it usually works...

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

Your tavs/durges and their s/os reaction to a spider in their room?

OOOOH

Aspen/Rolan:

R: Love have you seen the- AH OH NOPE.

A: What??

R: KILL IT.

A: WHAT?? WHAT IS IT??

R: There's a spider on the shelf! Get it!

A: A spider? SHIT. I can't kill it you kill it!

R: NO!

A: Come on! Be a strong archmage and zap the little fucker!

This goes on for like 5 minutes before the spider disappears and they both freak out that it's gone lol

Astarion/Tomie

Tomie: Oop! Hey there lil fella. Oh goooooods ok we're just gonna get a nice glass cup, sliiide this parchment under ya and EUUUGH IT MOVED OK. COME ON LIL BUDDY DON'T BE A DICK. ASTARION! I'M PANICKING.

A: *manic laughter*

T: STOP LAUGHING AT ME AND HELP DAMMIT.

A: What in the hells do you want me to do??

T: SUPPORT ME.

A: You're doing amazing, darling.

T: THANK YOU, now open the door so I can get this thing out of here!!

Raphael/Valerie

R: What would you like for breakfast tomorrow dear? I was thinking we- tsk...

V (from the other room): What was that darling?

R: There's another one.

V: Another what?

Valerie walks into the room and Raphael gestures toward the counter where there is a big black spider sitting there.

V: Oooh look at you! Precious thing. Come here my lovely.

Valerie walks up to the counter and allows the spider to crawl onto her hand. She then looks at Raphael with a sweet smile.

R:...No.

V: But she's prettyyyy.

R: Outside. You have several giant spiders as pets already, this one will get eaten anyway.

V: *sigh* Lets get you to safety, little one. Since mister grumpy pants here doesn't want to see his wife happy.

R: *exhausted groan*

Rue/Wyll

Rue walks into the room and accidentally steps on the spider. She then looks down and gasps.

R: Oh no.

W: What is it?

R: I killed a spider...

W: Awe, it's alright. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose. Oh! Oh you're crying...Come here. You're okay.

R: I'm so sorry spider!

W: I'm sure it forgives you. I know I would.

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

List of characters you 🫵 the Audience can request!

___________________________________________

In my oneshot all characters are aged up in their senior year 18/19 others in college 20/25 even if it don't say it in the story I strongly want to add this clarification

I only write Fem Reader and Gender neutral Reader

No poly relationship request please they make uncomfortable (not the people just that I'm not poly)

___________________________________________

What I do write

W/W lesbians

M/F Heterosexual

Fluff

Angst

Au's

Strangers to lovers

Friends to lovers

Meet cutes

Established relationship

Sensual insinuations

Sexual scenes (very minor it's not full smut just the scene afterwards the act)

What I don't write and that I'm uncomfortable with

Adult x minor

Rape/ grooming

Sexual Harassment in fiction

Pro shipping

_________________________________________

Monster high list. And their genderbent names

Draculaura = Laurence

Frankie stein = frankie stein

Cleo de nile= Cleon de nile

Clawdeen wolf= Claws wolf

Nefera de nile = Nefero de nile

Abbie Bominable = Abbott Bominable

Catty Noir = Clawton Noir

Castra Fierce= Casper Fierce

Robecca Steam= Robert Steam

C.A Cupid = C.A Cupid

Rochelle Goyle= Rockwell Goyle

Gigi grant= Gavin Grant

Venus McflFlytrap= Vinny McFlytrap

____________________________________________

Ever after high and their genderbent names

Apple white= Aspen white

Raven Queen= Raven King

Briar Beauty= Bryce Beauty

Ashlynn Ella = Ash Ella

Lizzie Hearts= Liam Hearts

Blondie locks= Brody Locks

Cerise Hood= Crimson Hood

Madeline Hatter= Mason Hatter

Melody piper = Ryder Piper/Rhythm Piper (can't decide over these two names)

Darling charming= Dashing Charming

Chase Redford= Charlie Redford

Courtly Jester= Gallant Jester

Duchess swan= Duke Swan

[psychooomind]

Mixed Signals - 10

Severus Snape x reader

Summary: Set between 1989 and 1998, Severus Snape and Katya Borislova attend the European Potioneers' Assemblies, where they meet and begin a pen pal friendship that confuses them both.

This is a prequel to another of my Harry Potter fanfics, The New Founders.

A multi-entry, slow-burn, colleagues to lovers, smut

Chapter 1. Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Continuation of the story: The Art of Deception

You can also read it at AO3 here.

If there was something Katya couldn’t understand, it was the enthusiasm most wizards had for Quidditch. In England, just like in Russia, the sport was so ingrained in their culture that it was even a subject taught at school. When she was at Koldovstoretz, she had never been good at keeping her body elevated off the ground and would often get dizzy easily, so the mere thought of playing a sport in the air didn’t appeal to her. The same couldn’t be said for her best friend, Nikita Godunov, who had travelled to England with his husband solely to witness the Quidditch World Cup being held in Devon, England.

Nikita and his husband, Emil, had both been Quidditch players during their time at Koldovstoretz and made it a point to attend tournaments whenever they could. With an apartment in England and Katya already there, they took the opportunity to visit her and stay with her until the championship concluded. Nikita’s apartment was spacious enough for the couple and Katya to live together for a few weeks, and Nikita insisted that Katya spend time with them after work. He also made it clear that she absolutely had to attend the opening ceremony of the Quidditch World Cup.

“Hello, darling. Have you missed me?” he said upon arriving and greeting her at her apartment. “I’ve come to rescue you from the Brits,” he teased.

Katya let out a small squeal upon seeing him, excited that her friends were there. The last time they had seen each other was in 1993 when she visited them in Aspen. Katya and Nikita exchanged letters frequently, and she was grateful that her friend had lent her his apartment during her stay in England. So, when he asked her to join him and Emil at the Quidditch World Cup, Katya simply agreed.

The Quidditch World Cup campsite drew much of the country’s tourism. According to what Katya had heard at Gringotts, the Muggle Prime Minister and the Magical Prime Minister had agreed on a commercial statute due to the large number of witches and wizards attending that year’s championship, which would positively impact national tourism.

Katya had never attended a Quidditch World Cup before, so she found it fascinating how popular it was within the magical community. They had even introduced a kind of “holiday” where employees of banks, shops, and other establishments could leave work earlier to make it in time to the various Portkeys located in Diagon Alley that would take them to the championship’s meeting point.

The Quidditch World Cup was held in Devon, England, beside an isolated moor. The campsite was designed to resemble a Muggle camping ground with tents that appeared as ordinary as possible from the outside. However, inside, their owners had added features such as fireplaces, bell-pull cords, weather vanes, staircases, bedrooms, kitchens, and more. Katya, Nikita, and Emil opted to rent a tent with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen in the French sector, intentionally distancing themselves from the Russian tents. Nikita and Emil didn’t want to run into any family members or old school friends who might spoil their experience. Katya, for her part, couldn’t have been more grateful.

At the first match, Nikita and Emil decided to enjoy the event from one of the most exclusive boxes in the stadium, having paid a considerable sum for the privilege of sitting near the United Kingdom’s Minister for Magic. Katya watched attentively as the Malfoy family began taking their seats beside the Minister. She couldn’t help but wonder how close the Malfoys were to the Minister and whether that connection might yield useful information to report to her father.

“It’s vulgar, Draco,” she heard Narcissa Malfoy say firmly to her son.

“But, Mother, they started it—”

“I don’t care. You must behave and not stoop to their level,” she reprimanded sharply.

After speaking, Narcissa turned to adjust her gown as she sat down, and that was when her eyes met Katya’s. Katya, seated just behind them with only the railing of the box separating them, observed her intently. Narcissa offered a poised smile before leaning towards her husband to whisper something. Lucius Malfoy immediately turned to look at Katya, a smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, what a perfect coincidence, Miss Borislova!” Lucius exclaimed theatrically.

The remark caught the attention of the Minister for Magic, who raised an intrigued eyebrow upon hearing Katya’s surname. Even Draco turned abruptly to look at her, clearly surprised. Aware of the attention, Katya decided to handle the situation with composure.

“Lucius, Narcissa, Draco,” Katya greeted them with polite warmth.

Beside her, Nikita, wearing his characteristic sunglasses, observed the interaction with interest. Emil, on the other hand, discreetly withdrew his hand from his husband’s, mindful of the Malfoys’ influence and how even the smallest detail could be misinterpreted, despite England’s more liberal stance.

“I thought Quidditch wasn’t to your liking, Miss Borislova,” Narcissa remarked with an amused expression. “Have you changed your mind these days?”

“Oh, I’m just accompanying some friends,” Katya replied with a measured smile.

Nikita, more inclined to join in, gave a casual wave.

“Nikita Godunov,” he introduced himself elegantly.

Lucius regarded him with clear disdain before replying, “The designer?”

“The very same” Nikita answered with a feline grin, evidently enjoying being recognised.

Immediately, Narcissa and Nikita launched into an animated discussion about his latest clothing line, covering everything from his sources of inspiration to the enchantments applied to fabrics to ensure a better fit. Meanwhile, Katya, grateful for the distraction her friend provided, managed to catch snippets of a hushed conversation between Lucius and the Minister for Magic. Though she couldn’t make out the details, she noted how unusually close their relationship seemed. Could Minister Fudge be corrupt? she wondered.

“I’ll send you a gift once we’re back in New York,” Nikita was saying enthusiastically. “I love the idea of witches around the world having a bit of Godunov in their wardrobes.”

“Oh, what a delightful thought!” Narcissa replied, visibly pleased. “I must say, I saw one of your designs on Katya a few months ago, and the colour combination was simply sublime.”

“That’s because my Katya here is my favourite model,” Nikita said, winking at her conspiratorially.

“Oh, I didn’t realise Katya had a designer among her suitors,” Narcissa teased with a sly smile.

Katya let out a restrained laugh, while Nikita smirked sarcastically.

“Oh, no. I’m a married man,” Nikita clarified, raising his hand to show his gold wedding band. “Besides, I fear Katya has her attention elsewhere.”

“I think that’s enough, Nik,” Katya interjected with a warning glance, though she couldn’t help but smile at her friend’s boldness. She knew, much like Narcissa, Nikita enjoyed playing matchmaker for her.

“Oh, yes,” Narcissa added playfully. “I know quite a bit about that. I believe her interest lies in academics, much like herself.”

“Is that true?” Nikita asked, feigning curiosity as he glanced at Katya. “I feel like I’m missing out on my own friend’s news.”

Narcissa let out a soft chuckle and was about to add something more when, fortunately for Katya, the loud noise marking the start of the match interrupted the conversation.

“Just shut up, Nik” Katya whispered, relieved.

“Oh, I’m just having a little fun. You’re becoming dreadfully dull, Kitkat” he teased with a playful tone. Crossing his legs elegantly, he sipped from a charmed champagne glass that never emptied as the match began.

The match between Brazil and Italy unfolded with great intensity, filled with spectacular plays and nearly impossible catches that kept the audience on the edge of their seats. The stands shook with the cheers of the fans, and Katya, though not an avid Quidditch follower, found the spectacle surprisingly entertaining. Nikita, however, seemed more interested in analysing the players’ uniforms, making sarcastic remarks about the lack of style in some teams, while Emil watched every move with the focus of a true enthusiast.

Italy dominated the scoreboard for most of the match, and when their Seeker caught the Golden Snitch, sealing the victory, the stadium erupted in cheers. Katya clapped with a calm smile, although her attention was divided between the celebration and the movements of the notable figures attending the event, including the British Minister for Magic.

Once outside the box, the crowd began to disperse. In the organised chaos of witches and wizards heading towards various transport points, Katya felt a slight tension as the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, approached with his aides.

"Miss Borislova, is it?" he greeted, extending a pudgy hand with his characteristic mix of politeness and awkwardness.

"Minister Fudge," Katya replied with a flawless smile as she shook his hand. "It’s an honour to meet you."

"The honour is mine," he said, studying her closely. His small eyes glimmered with curiosity. "I’ve heard very good things about you. The Malfoys speak highly of your work."

"Well... it’s a pleasure to work with them," Katya explained naturally, gesturing towards Emil and Nikita, who were watching the scene from a cautious distance.

Fudge nodded slowly, though his attention seemed fixed solely on her.

"Fascinating," he said after a moment. "Your father, Pyotr Borislova, is a highly respected name within Russia’s Federal Magical Committee. His influence does not go unnoticed, even here in England."

Katya maintained her smile, fully aware of the need to measure her words carefully.

"My father is married to his work. He has devoted his life to serving the Committee and our company," she replied neutrally.

"I imagine so," Fudge said, attempting a casual tone that couldn’t hide his interest. After a brief silence, he added, "I must admit, I am curious. What brings the daughter of such an influential man to work here in England?"

Katya noticed the undertone in his words: Should I be concerned? Although Fudge didn’t seem suspicious of the Malfoys, it was clear he was testing the waters regarding her family.

"I’m merely an accountant. I wish my work were more... disruptive, but I’m just a simple accountant," she said gracefully. "England seemed like a good place to broaden my horizons."

Fudge nodded, appearing satisfied with her answer, though his gaze remained laden with curiosity.

"I hope you enjoy your stay in our country, then," he said finally. "Although, I must say, I like to think we all share certain common values. I trust you share them as well."

Katya raised an eyebrow with feigned curiosity.

"What values would those be, sir?"

Fudge leaned in slightly, as if ensuring no one else would overhear.

"I mean security, Miss Borislova. Keeping ourselves safe from... dark influences that threaten our magical community. I can’t help but notice that certain rumours follow your father, though I’m sure they’re nothing more than that—rumours."

Katya kept her face impassive, though internally, she was weighing each word carefully.

"My father is a pragmatic man, Minister. But I must assure you that whatever he does—or doesn’t do—is unrelated to my presence in this country," she lied effortlessly. "While his decisions are always motivated by the wellbeing of our magical community, I am merely his daughter."

Fudge smiled, though his expression remained hard to read.

"That’s what I like to hear. I believe we must foster closer relationships between our magical communities. Of course, it’s always best to do so with those who share our vision."

Katya understood the subtext: Fudge was making it clear that he deeply distrusted any association with Dark Wizards, and her father, with his growing power in Russia, was precisely that—a powerful Dark Wizard. While Fudge didn’t see the Malfoys as a threat, it was evident that suspicions surrounding her father were a sensitive matter.

"I’m sure my father would wholeheartedly agree with you, Minister," Katya replied with a calm smile, inclining her head slightly.

Fudge seemed pleased with her response and straightened up, giving her one last evaluative look.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Borislova. I’m sure our paths will cross again."

"The pleasure was mine, sir," Katya replied.

As Fudge walked away, Katya felt the weight of the interaction. Her carefully chosen words were a reminder that, although her life in England appeared peaceful, it was anything but. There would always be watchful eyes on her—more than she’d like. Pyotr Borislova, with his reputation and connections, remained a polarising figure even beyond Russia.

Nikita approached then, his smile tinged with curiosity.

"That was... interesting. What did the great Cornelius Fudge want? Did he ask you to sort out the Ministry’s finances?"

Katya let out a short laugh, shaking her head.

"He just wanted to make sure I’m not a threat to the British magical community."

"Are you?" Emil teased, stepping up beside them.

Katya gave him a knowing look.

"That depends on who’s asking."

Nikita raised an eyebrow, his expression laced with unease. What exactly was his friend getting involved in?

The days passed in a whirlwind of emotions, spectacular plays, and the buzz of the Quidditch World Cup. Katya, Nikita, and Emil made the most of their time by attending every match, immersing themselves in the vibrant energy of the stadium and the infectious enthusiasm of the fans. Though Katya wasn’t particularly drawn to the sport, she couldn’t help but be captivated by the passion with which the teams competed and their catchy chants.

Nikita and Emil, on the other hand, lived each match as if they were on the field themselves. On more than one occasion, Katya caught them discussing strategies and reminiscing about their own days as Quidditch players at school. Emil, with his athletic build and nostalgic smile, often spoke of his time as a Beater for his school team, while Nikita, always more refined in his movements, had been a Seeker.

"Reminds me of your last match, Nik," Emil commented one afternoon as they walked back to the campsite. "It was one of the longest matches ever held at Koldovstoretz."

"Yes, I also remember how I broke my shoulder in the process," Nikita replied with a wry smile. "Though I must admit, hearing everyone chant my name was a decent consolation."

Katya smiled softly, enjoying the stories her friends shared. However, she couldn’t ignore the shadow of her true mission in England, which lingered at the back of her mind.

One evening, as the trio returned to their tents after an exhilarating match between Bulgaria and Japan, they found Lucius Malfoy waiting by the entrance to their tent. Lucius, as impeccable as ever, offered them a polite smile.

"Miss Borislova, gentlemen," he greeted them in his characteristic affable tone. "I trust you enjoyed the match. My wife and I are hosting a small gathering tonight in our tent. It would be an honour to have you join us."

Katya exchanged a quick glance with Emil and Nikita before replying.

"It would be a pleasure to attend, Mr Malfoy. Thank you for the invitation."

Lucius inclined his head slightly before taking his leave, leaving them alone. Once inside the tent, Katya adopted a more serious tone as she addressed her friends.

"Before we go, there’s something important you need to know," she began, looking at Emil and then Nikita. "There will be witches and wizards there with Legilimency skills. It’s crucial that you keep your minds closed."

Nikita frowned, crossing his arms.

"Why are you here, Katya? I thought you were just an accountant."

Katya sighed, anticipating the confrontation that was coming.

"I can’t give you all the details, but I’m gathering information. My father believes it’s important to observe certain movements in England at the moment."

"What?" Nikita replied, raising his voice slightly. "Do you realise you’re putting your life in danger just to please your father? This isn’t a game, Katya!"

"It isn’t," Katya responded firmly. "But there are things you don’t understand, Nikita. This is my ticket to freedom. If I do this, I’ll be able to break away from my family once and for all."

"And what if this goes wrong?" Nikita pressed, his tone full of frustration. "What if they find out you’re spying for him? Is it worth risking everything for this?"

"It’s not for you to decide," Katya replied with severity. Her gaze reflected both determination and sadness. The last thing she wanted was to argue with her best friend. "I’ve made my choice. All I ask is that you trust me."

The tension lingered between them for a moment before Emil stepped in, placing a hand on Nikita’s shoulder.

"We should focus on not drawing attention tonight. Katya knows what she’s doing."

Though Nikita didn’t respond, he eventually nodded, allowing the silence to settle over the tent as they prepared for the gathering.

When they arrived at the Malfoys’ tent, the atmosphere was one of understated elegance. Lucius and Narcissa welcomed their guests, while their house-elves circulated with trays of champagne.

Katya recognised several prominent figures from the Ministry of Magic. Cornelius Fudge was chatting animatedly with Barty Crouch, while Pius Thicknesse listened intently nearby. In another corner, Kingsley Shacklebolt and his wife, Athenea, were exchanging words with a group of officials.

Katya moved gracefully among the guests, greeting those who approached her while attentively observing the interactions around her. Emil and Nikita stayed close, though their behaviour remained reserved, following Katya’s instructions to reveal no more than necessary.

At one point, Fudge approached her with a smile.

"Miss Borislova, how delightful to see you again. Are you enjoying the evening?"

"Very much so, Minister," Katya replied. As they spoke, she couldn’t help but notice Lucius watching the conversation from a distance, as though evaluating every word. It served as a reminder that in this place, every gesture and every comment was observed and scrutinised.

As the night went on, Katya made a mental note of the most significant interactions, especially those involving discussions about alliances and international politics that would interest her father. Although she maintained a calm facade, she was acutely aware that she was walking a tightrope, where a single misstep could have severe consequences.

The tension of the evening weighed heavily on Katya’s shoulders as she tried to keep her composure. Her earlier argument with Nikita still lingered in her mind, but she couldn’t afford to be distracted. Her mission demanded her full attention and unshakeable focus. However, she couldn’t ignore the oppressive feeling that came over her when she noticed someone staring at her. Discreetly, she turned her head and found herself meeting the dark, intense gaze of Severus Snape, who seemed to be examining her as closely as ever. Her stomach tightened with irritation. Why is he here? she thought bitterly. This was not the time or place for personal distractions. She was here for information, to gather all that she could and be free of his father, not to relive old memories or face unresolved feelings.

Katya’s lips curled into a faint, lopsided smile as she looked away, forcing herself to maintain her composure. Severus wasn’t just watching her; his attention was also fixed on Nikita, who remained nearby with his usual stoic expression. The jealousy she sensed from Severus was almost palpable, and though part of her found it amusing, another part found it infuriating. After all this time, why did he still have this effect on her?

She hated that his presence made her falter, that it stirred memories she had worked hard to bury. It had been over a year since she had been with anyone, and she had convinced herself she was fine with that. Her life was too dangerous, too complicated for intimacy. Yet every time her path crossed with Severus, her body betrayed her resolve, reminding her of the nights they had spent together. Nights filled with lust and a connection that no one else had been able to replicate.

It wasn’t just the physical aspect, though that was undeniable. It was the way he challenged her, the way he understood her in ways few others could. She despised how easily he could unravel her defences with a single look, and tonight was no different.

At some point during the evening, the atmosphere inside the tent became suffocating. Katya needed air, needed to escape the weight of his gaze and the memories it dragged to the surface. Slipping outside, she lit a cigarette, the familiar act grounding her as she took a long drag, exhaling the tension slowly.

She had barely been outside for two minutes when a deep, familiar voice broke the silence.

“I thought you’d given up that habit,” Severus remarked, appearing at her side with his infuriatingly silent movements.

Her irritation flared again. Of course, he had followed her. She exhaled smoke slowly, refusing to meet his eyes immediately. 

“I had. For about two days. But England has a way of unsettling me.”

“And what’s troubling you, Katya?” he asked, his voice low and probing, crossing his arms as he looked at her with the same intensity that always managed to leave her unbalanced.

Katya finally turned her head, her expression calm, though her eyes betrayed her inner conflict. Part of her wanted to snap at him for intruding, for disrupting her carefully constructed focus. Another part of her wanted to close the gap between them and relive the moments she had sworn to forget.

“Nothing you can help with, Severus,” she replied flatly, taking another drag from her cigarette. She hated how her voice softened just slightly when she said his name. “I must admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“The Malfoys invited me. This isn’t really my sort of scene,” he said, his gaze shifting briefly towards the tent. “From what I can see, you’re in good company.”

Her lips quirked in a brief, genuine laugh despite herself. “Are you referring to Nikita and his husband?”

Severus arched an eyebrow, his mouth curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Nikita? Your famous friend you used to talk about in our letters?”

“The very same.”

The way his brow furrowed ever so slightly told her he was already analysing her tone, her words, looking for deeper meaning. He always did this—always dug deeper than she was ready to reveal.

He stepped closer, and she felt the tension between them shift, becoming almost palpable. Her pulse quickened, and she cursed herself for it. She could feel his eyes on her, their shared history hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“You’re as inscrutable as ever,” he said, his voice softer now, almost contemplative. “Still just as evasive. I wonder if you’ve ever been completely honest with me.”

Katya extinguished her cigarette, letting the silence hang between them for a moment before murmuring, “I was…” Her voice was almost too quiet, as though the words were meant more for herself than for him. Then, she turned to meet his gaze head-on. “Do you really want to talk about honesty? Do you really want to go there, Severus?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, and for a moment, his mask of indifference slipped. But it was only a moment. He stepped closer, his tone low and deliberate. “I’m not here to argue the past. I’m here because I’m concerned about what you’re getting yourself into.”

Her heart ached at the concern in his voice, though she hated herself for feeling it. Why does he care? she thought bitterly. But deep down, she knew. Despite everything, despite the years, there was still something between them, something neither of them could completely sever.

“And what would that be?” she asked with a bitter laugh. “The last time we spoke, you promised to tell me about your connection with the Malfoys.” Her voice grew sharper, the irritation finally breaking through. “Funny, it’s been weeks, and I’ve heard nothing from you.”

“I haven’t forgotten; it simply isn’t the right time.”

“If you’ve lost interest, just say so.”

“Don’t underestimate my interest, Katya,” he said quietly, his voice dipping into that familiar tone that always left her off balance. “I’ve never stopped… thinking about you.” He hesitated, his words trailing off, but the implication was clear.

Her breath caught, and her pulse quickened against her will. Damn him.

“If you wish to continue thinking about it,” she said, forcing her voice into a casual, almost mocking tone, “I might suggest somewhere more private.”

Severus studied her for a moment, and she thought she saw a flicker of something—hesitation? Desire?—in his dark eyes before he gave a small nod. “Tell me where.”

She didn’t have time to reply before she felt his hand on hers, the faint touch sending a shiver through her. It was a gesture that reminded her of simpler times, times when things between them had been less complicated. A second later, the world shifted, and they left the tent—and the curious eyes inside—far behind.

In the distance, Nikita and Emil observed the scene with evident satisfaction.

"So that’s the famous professor," Emil whispered, sipping his champagne. "A bit… older than us."

"I’m glad to see Katya has finally given in to love," Nikita murmured, smiling.

"Always the romantic, my love," Emil said, taking Nikita’s hand and kissing his knuckles.

Nikita chuckled, and the pair left the tent.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Will there be smut between Elvis and Elaine in the 70s/80s chapter of the saga? I absolutely adore the second gen, but i am also really obsessed about the both of them still finding time (to make babys obvsly) but also enjoy eachother soo passionately like in the early years 😍 i am very invested 😂

Oh, oh darling yes there will be and…it just might be my favorite of all their eras. Plenty of fic in the works, and I’m delighted that interests you. Nothing hotter than a couple fused together by time and devotion. Also, this is beyond random but I do envision Elvis getting a bit cuddlier and bulkier into the 90’s…whereas in this AU the 70’s remain about the same health and looks as around ‘74…with some gray allowed to creep in by the mid 80’s. 😏 ALL THAT TO SAY, I find the idea of warm and sturdy Elvis being enamored with his Pilates obsessed wife pretty swoonworthy

There’s a lot coming soon for the 80’s and earlier but for now, how about a little intermediate, plotless, fluffy, wintry smut fest between Grandpa Elvis and his Tink when they’re stuck in a ski lift on their aspen holiday? …it goes something like this (WARNINGS, fluffy smut involving p in v, semi public sex but not observed, tender cum feeding (somehow Elaine made that a thing) and subby older Elvis, 18+:

Sarge & lil Mama blurb, Jan 1995,

|| Snow Bunnies

“When’d I get so damn fat?” Elaine hears her man huff over the rustling sound of their snow coats rubbing together and wants to roll her eyes, amused that Elvis didn’t expect that result from almost nightly burger and shake runs with Shiloh for the past decade.

She does roll her eyes at the thought that he wiggled her snow pants down and her panties, too, before even unzipping himself.

“You’re cuddly,” she retorts with a smile directed down to the ski slope far below them, her hand pressed to the frosting glass of the lift, “as all grandpa’s should be. Nobody wants a scrawny grandpa.”

Case in point is the waft of steaming heat Elaine feels against her bare backside the minute he gets his pants undone, sweaty body heat radiating off of him despite the freezing temperatures around them. Instinctively she arches her back a little and shifts her footing, putting a leg up on the bench to make some room for little Elvis, slotting her ski carefully between the narrow walls. It barely fits.

She thanks God for the fact she’s got just enough height to her that they can do this standing up, have been doing it this way for over three decades now, because if he can’t wait for a private moment and if he must take advantage of the stalled ski lift, then she’s secretly relieved she won’t be the one exerting effort with ten pounds extra of ski equipment hampering her.

As it is, it’s funny how swelteringly hot they both feel besides their barely exposed privates. She can hear the minute Elvis frees himself from his little wounded hiss at the cold air and his pitiful need always did make her run wet.

“C’mon mopey, come to mama.” she encourages and braces her hand on the glass, checking to make certain her long coat covers any frontal view, only the back tugged down and her husband is soon behind her with enough width and padding to hide a dumpster. “Give lil Elvis some shelter.” she tries to reach between her legs to guide him but there’s too much winter bulk in the way and only her fingertips make it to his line of sight.

Elvis moans at the eager gesture anyway, touched by how ready she still remains for him, how willing even when it ain’t her idea or need.

“Keep ya hand right there, Mamas.” he tells her in a conspiratorial little whisper, “Hims gots a little gift for hers.” he says and Elaine grins wildly in delight, trying to anticipate it, beyond the delicious stretch she readies for with braced and booted feet.

She hears the shlick/shlack of him rubbing something, along with the muffled creaking of his nylon jacket and leather gloves, and after a few moments of white breathed puffing behind her she feels a warm drop hit her finger tip.

Then another, and another and then a little string of liquid and she knows it’s his precum, he’s dripping it onto her hand and Elaine closes her eyes against the bright white landscape of an Aspen morning and imagines his drippy pink cock in a sea of leather and nylon, one warm and vulnerable little knob in the harsh elements and she knocks her forehead against the glass wall in mouthwatering craving.

“Oh Elvis!” she groans, curling her fingers as the puddle grows and begins to puddle in her palm, slicking up her own curls down where her hand is wedged so tightly from her barely removed pants. “Put it in baby, mama wants it, c’mon pretty baby.”

“Ok.” The whine and shuffle she hears behind her sounds like a child clumsily but eagerly obeying and that’s rather characteristic of her man. She bites her gloved thumb at the feel of his tip pressing blindly at her folds, poking and prodding the wrong places for entry and strangely it’s terribly exciting, this inhibited Elvis, this clumsy man who wants her so bad he’d try to bonk her in a sky lift with Pillsbury Doughboy amounts of padding striving to keep them apart.

The path of true love never did run smooth.

The jabbing and novice pokes are worth it for his frustrated little grunts in her ear and the way he tries to wiggle on top of her leaning frame, like extra height is going to help matters. She bends a little further with a fond smirk, wanting to chuckle at the way his arm presses across her shoulder and the back of her neck. It’s so desperate it’s comical and Elaine always has a weakness for being overly wanted by him.

His face is hanging over her left shoulder when he manages to wedge an inch into the correct hole and his hot breath blasts her cheek in relief and she spares a gloved hand from propping herself against the glass to pat his squishy cheek. It’s not fair how packing on a few pounds has seemed to erase the age from him, filling out the wrinkles he collected last decade and turning him into something as cute as the grandsons all over again.

Elaine feels like she did when she was freshly married and he was a chubby cheeked baby man. Even now when she can’t really see his face with the positioning, she can imagine it and it makes her heart flutter. She pats at his face and the scritch of his trimmed sideburns is noisy against the leather, Elvis nuzzles her palm.

Before she knows it he’s got her gloved fingers in his mouth and his teeth clamp against the leather at the tips and he starts to pull the glove off. She helps him, yanking her wrist and he drops the glove over her shoulder like a dog depositing a gift.

“Pet me, mamas.” Elvis begs again and nestles into her body a little further, half way in if she were to guess, and after all these years, she’s a pretty good guesser about little Elvis. “M’too fat to get in all the ways.” he fusses, forlornly starting to hump inside her in aborted little fucks like a bunny with his mate.

The mental image makes Elaine chortle, as do the silly little jabs from those famous hips. He’d get more depth violating a jacuzzi jet but Elvis Presley waits for no man and she supposes if the slide is tight enough to drag his little scarf back and forth, maybe it’ll be sufficient. She clenches for him, little rhythmic kegels that remind her of postpartum rehabilitation and his answering moan encourages her. “That feel good, baby boy? Hmm? Is mama warm and cozy?” she asks, her cheek getting sweaty from where his is pressed to hers.

Into their sixties and Elvis still twitches madly under her doting, purring in her ear when he’s being spoiled.

“Ssso’cozzzeeey.” he slurs right into her ear and she shudders in delight, feeling his arm around her waist through her layers of bundling, his hand on her shoulder needy and insistent.

After a decade of peace and over three so intertwined and inseparable, it’s as if Elvis has forgotten they are separate people. Older and less fastidious over timing or moods, when her husband gets a craving for his better half, he indulges it. It’s wholesomely nasty and Elaine doesn’t expect her children or the public to understand but she gets it.

She leans her forehead against the glass, lets her sweat smudge the clear view, and thinks she sees the specks that are their friends and kids below, commenting on the stalled lift no doubt, and she grins at the notion that Elvis can’t get enough momentum to actually make it obvious as to what these two bundles in the sky are doing.

His chubby and familiar cock is rubbing inside her delightfully as do his balls, hanging lower and swollen by age, smack her backside with every lurch, and she lets out a happy sigh at the slick sounds of his sloppy movements. Elaine can hear when he starts to get close, his breathy moans of exertion quicken and he lets out throaty little noises of delighted panic as his climax nears. His hands grasp her hips over the padding and he nearly climbs on her like it’s a piggy back ride, squirming to get a little deeper before letting out a long and loud sigh of contentment as he lets go, a sigh that has begun to crack at the end in a hoarse moan the older he gets.

“You feel so good, Tink.” he groans into her ear and her pussy clenches at the praise and the feel of his wet slop inside her.

The gush between her legs is obscene due to his shallow depth and just when she thinks he’s done with his deposit, Elvis will jerk some more and out sputters another little bit to join the rest slowly leaking out of her and dripping onto the crotch of her ski pants. “Mmm, shit, I made a mess, mama.” he mumbles apologetically at the obvious and easily foreseeable consequences to his actions.

“S’ok mopey,” she reaches back and strokes his sweaty cheek as he burrows his lips into the collar of her jacket and kisses her neck ardently and grateful, “that do it for ya, baby?” she asks, tipping her head back to allow him more access.

“Yeas,” He sighs happily, “m’all better.” he declares and Elaine’s heart thuds like a teenager from his soft, adoring tone, from the way she’s still his cure-all at all times. “But damn is it soupy down there, sorry mama.”

“You’ve been holding that in for a couple days now,” she coos, “been makin’ you grumpy and it must’ve been so hard, bein’ so full and achy and not able to relieve it.”

Elvis sniffles into her neck even as he begins to pull out, the gush of his release beginning to pour out and she quickly cups her hand to her cunt to catch some of it in her palm and spare her pants just a little.

“It’s been verra rough.” he agrees with a pout that no longer reaches anywhere else on his face save his mouth, quite an improvement from the grumpy storm cloud that was Elvis traveling here yesterday in a crowded Bus with kids and grandkids, deprived of his naps and his autonomy, with his bed full of grandkids at night and unable to have his Tink at whim.

Vacations were nice in theory, and suddenly relieved of his more irritable humors -which Elaine was cupping milky white in her palm- they might end up being nice in practice too. He just needed a little dotin’ on, like a vintage car, one can’t expect it to purr constantly without some upkeep. Tink knows this and she smiles back at him sweetly, same way she smiled at him on the bus when his boyish and round face was puckered in a moody scowl that matched Jack’s a few rows behind.

“Yeah, I know,” she’s still smiling but he watches her glance down to the pearly puddle in her palm as she adds, “but we gotta count our blessings we’ve got kids who wanna bug us as much as they do, people dream about families working as well as ours. Nothin’ we did alone, God’s been good to us, I mean -look at those sweet idiots, they’re not even skiing even though the conditions are perfect, they’re too worried for us. Don’t you think most rich kids would be hoping the car falls so they get the inheritance faster?”

Elvis wheezes a laugh and does a little hop to pull his padded pants back up, struggling with the zipper a bit. Slightly thicker around the middle and he acts like he’s nine months pregnant, unable to fasten his closures or put his shoes on, the pink happiness in his cheeks when Elaine offers to help him, betrays his act each time.

“I’ll help ya, if you need,” she offers, her own pants having been pulled up by him as he’s a gentleman, even if he’s a feral one.

“Yeah baby I need a hand.” grunts and his chin has a soft double under it as he looks down to his fly.

“Well, then clean me up so I can help.” she casually presents her cum coated hand and he balks for a brief moment until her unflinching little smile tells him she’s not kidding in the slightest, and he doesn’t need her to remind him she’ll be waddling and skiing all day in the soupy mess he made in her pants. It’s the least he can do, her eyebrow remind, and with a stuttering little whimper of aversion he takes her wrist in his large, gloved hand and bends over it like he’s gonna kiss it with all his Hollywood honed suavity.

Instead he gets to work on his task with only a fleeting grimace at the tepid saltiness of his own release and his compliance makes Elaine shiver and clench. She can feel the warm little kitten licks from his tongue, so reminiscent of other activities she uses him for, and his black lashes fan against his cheeks through the orange visor of his ski glasses as he peaks up to see her approving expression.

“That’s good enough, well done, let me help you now, sweet man.” she sighs dreamily while rubbing her finger against his curling tongue.

Elaine pats her shiny hand on her leather vinyl ski pants and finds it ineffective for drying it but there’s nothing to be done about it and so she dutifully lifts up his jackets and grasps the top of his pants and brings them together, “Suck in just a lil.” she suggests as her knuckles dig into the soft, hairy flesh of his belly, rubbing against his little treasure trail. “There we go.” she clasps it and he lets out a sigh and she steps back and both smile shyly at each other over the pretense of him needing help with something so easy.

“I love you.” it bubbles out of her lips as she sees him bundled and shy in front of her with a face shiny from his exertions inside her.

Elvis’ pink lips gasp a little at the common little declaration and he brings his large hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in for a deep kiss. She tastes his salty spend still on his tongue and moans into his scorching mouth. Her man and his body -always so warm and never more so than when he’s been freshly sated.

The ski lift jolts and Elaine falls further forward into Elvis’ embrace, losing her footing in the clumsy footwear, and he holds her up, looking above them to find the car has begun to lurch in what he hopes is an intentional motion to help the stall.

“Are we about to die?” Elaine asks with a giggle into the poofy padding of his jacket and his own laugh rumbles under her ear.

“Dunno,” he jokes, “but if we are, I want ya to know I don’t regret a damn thing ‘bout lovin’ you, ‘cept that I just left ya hangin’ in our last ron-day-voo like a green boy.”

Elaine smacks at his arm and feels the ski lift start to slide down the cable as it ought to have a whole half an hour before. “Gosh, I think we’re actually going to make it.” she mutters as their skiing party has remained intact for the most part, loathing to split off before the Boss and Boss Lady made it up safe.

When they get to their drop Elvis helps Elaine hop off the lift and he follows after, being swarmed by kids and grandkids and their friends asking if they’re alright. Which they are, of course they are.

A employee from the Resort, no doubt the fella who got them moving again, comes up and apologizes profusely for the inconvenience.

“Say nothin’ of it boy.” Elvis beams and claps him on the shoulder and Jack shares a look with his wife Vic at the quite obvious attitude adjustment that seems to have occurred since leaving the lodge. “Ya never know, one day I might tip ya for stallin’ an elevator or something so I can get this sweet creature alone for a minute.” and Elvis squeezes Elaine to his side like a typical, flirty old man and the poor employee stops chewing his gum in confusion.

“Uh. Well I’m glad you’re not shaken up, these things are quite safe they just stall occasionally.” the guy assures, loathe to get a bad review from the Presleys of all people.

“Yes of course.” Elaine smiles demurely at him and that should be his signal to move along but he’s one of those overachiever types, rules and regulation sorts, and so he persists.

“What can be dangerous is rocking a car in hopes to get it going.” he explains, “If this happens again, God forbid-“

“-better not.”

“-then it’s really important not to rock the thing or sway it too much, that can snap a cable, really Mr. Presley it’s important you guys don’t try that again.”

“We-we didn’t-“ Elvis is the picture of confusion even as Elaine’s face solidifies into diplomatic blankness.

“But we saw it rocking.” Bee, Shiloh’s best buddy and a tag-along to all Presley events, insists she saw what she saw, which was the lift rocking. She had commented as much to Danny despite his arguments that it was the wind before he dragged her off to watch him fail at a misty ski trick.

That’s why his forehead was busted and Elaine stares at the gash partially hidden by his shaggy brown hair with some concern.

“Must’ve been the wind.” Elvis repeats his son’s logic and Bee stares in confusion as they’re all out to ski because of the lack of wind.

Elaine beckons Danny over and makes his lanky frame crouch a little so she can ascertain the damage to his head while elbowing a still protesting Elvis in the ribs.

“We did try hopping a few times.” she admits breezily and as soon as she says it, Elvis stops his lying, quickly clamping his mouth shut, “Just thought we might get the momentum back. I’m sorry sir, we didn’t know we could die, we won’t try it again.” she assures.

Content the employee leaves them be and the various groups split off for the various courses, eager and red cheeked. Elvis and Elaine agree to shepard the youngest kids in the group down the easier slopes with the help of Rosalee and Sam.

On their way to their starting places Elvis brushes by Elaine, grandchild's hand in his on his opposite side and mutters in her ear, “Shouldn't make promises ya can’t keep.”

🥰 I hope y’all don’t mind me tagging y’all in blurbs as well as fics, most of y’all asked to be tagged in “everything” so I took you pretty literally, lol. Let me know and I’ll remove you for future. Xoxoxo

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@ab4eva

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

[ashen-crest]

This has some kinda-spoilers for book 3, but if anyone in the Emry Fan club wants it, I finally got to a good Emry Emotions chapter. @akindofmagictoo @sleepyowlwrites (obvi, you don't have to read if you don't want any spoilers, since it's from later in the book!)

He played a few test chords to clear his head. The music itself didn’t reach for his magic, nor was it a requirement to use his power. He could grow small, simple things just fine. 

But pushing his magic through sound—even just through humming—made it flow so much easier. Like playing on an instrument crafted by a master, rather than an old, broken hand-me-down. 

He looked around at the garden flourishing around him. All those times his magic had felt stronger during concerts; all those times he had noticed little flowers growing around him.

He had just assumed it was because Aspen was beside him.

In some way, the realization made him feel worse than before, and the next few chords came up off-key and jangled. He huffed and tried again—

“Em?” Cal leaned against the back door of the cottage. Ink still spotted her hands from when she had written her part of the letter. “My dearest, are you researching your magic without me?”

“What?” Emry pretended to hide his lute behind his back. “No! Darling, I’d never so much as form a hypothesis without you.”

She smiled and wandered out to join him. “May I ask what you’ve discovered so far?”

“Well, I…” He pulled his lute back around and stared at it in thought. 

This lute wasn’t the one that Aspen had first lived in—that one belong to Aspen now—but in honor of their meeting, the lute had been carved with aspen leaves along the face. They fanned outward, dappled in the warm sunlight filtering through the apple tree. A knot formed in his throat.

“I’ve discovered I don’t want to do this without Aspen,” he said quietly.

Cal’s smile faded. He wanted her to reassure him. He silently begged for her to say that Aspen wasn’t going anywhere. That they’d come home to Vornik like normal, answers or no. That other spirits could lead the charge for answers, now that Yarrow had given them worse than nothing.

But she just laid her hands over his.

“I know.” She softened her voice. “Aspen is their own being. They can choose their own path.”

“And if that path is with the other spirits?”

She wiped a tear off his cheek, her own eyes shining. “Then we’ll make them swear to write to us.”

Emry gave a hollow laugh, but inside, his heart was still in shards. It had only been a few years, but he could hardly recall a time before Aspen. They couldn’t just—just leave. Emry couldn’t do any of this without them—

“Karic?” Damir’s voice floated in from the road. “Where is he? Karic, any update from the menagerie?”

[rt8815]

Come Home

Dipping my toes back into writing with my very first Loki x OC fic, though she (Dr. Aspen Junge) only makes a brief appearance at the end of this piece.

It's post-Avengers canon divergent. I'll be jumping around non-chronologically, but perhaps not as much as my Criminal Minds OC fic.

A special thanks to @illegalcerebral for brainstorming names for my OC with me and for being an awesome sounding board ♥️

WC: 1,153

...

New York, 2030

Loki mumbled to himself, brow furrowed in concentration. He sat at his desk, sorting through forms and intelligence reports that Stark had sent earlier in the day. Being an Avenger involved a surprising amount of paperwork.

“Daddy?” a tiny voice called out from the study door. There stood Loki’s four year old daughter, her face slightly paled with tiredness.

Setting the papers aside, he opened his arms to her. “Why are you out of bed, lille venn?” he asked when she climbed into his lap.

“Fenny can't sleep,” she explained, handing him the wolf plushie that she had been clutching against her ribs.

“Mmm, and what's troubling him, Astrid?”

“We’re worried about Uncle Thor. Is he okay?”

“Why do you ask, love?”

She pointed at the window, which was getting steadily pelted with rain and sleet.

“His storm sounds sad, Daddy,” she explained, leaning her head against his shoulder. “It’s not loud like usual.”

Loki agreed that it looked rather miserable outside, all drizzly and gray.

“You miss him,” he stated simply, earning a solemn nod in response.

Placing a finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head back, revealing her melancholic face.

“It’s kind of you to be concerned about your Uncle Thor, but this,” he inclined his head toward the rain, “isn’t him. Asgard is too far away for him to influence the weather here.”

“Oh,” came her soft reply.

He brushed a few inky black, wavy locks off her face. “As for missing him...I know it’s hard to wait, but Thor will return soon.”

“How soon?”

“Two sleeps, darling.”

Astrid gazed blankly at the rain, digesting the information. “So...day after tomorrow.”

“Correct.”

She buried herself in her father’s chest with a huff. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Loki chuckled, nuzzling her hair.

“All right, back to bed with you,” he ordered as he stood from his chair and carried her down the hall. “We have a busy day ahead of us, and if you aren’t well rested, you’ll be as ornery as a bilgesnipe.”

Kneeling, he gently placed Astrid on her bed, but she sat back up before he could tuck her in. Loki raised his brows at her questioningly.

“Daddy, can we sing “Come Home” for Uncle Thor? Please?” she begged.

Loki hesitated. The song he had written many years ago in a bout of homesickness was meant to be sung by the weary traveler, not those awaiting his return. Moreover, it held very complicated feelings for him. His daughter, however, knew none of that.

Astrid’s hazel eyes rounded and her lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, pulling at Loki’s heartstrings.

Norns, that child had him wrapped around her fingers. He sighed in resignation.

“Very well, but not too loudly. We mustn’t wake your Mother.”

“Okay,” she whispered, waving her hands about, leaving behind a trail of teal sparks. “And you can use your ‘llusions too?”

Loki carefully enveloped Astrid’s hands in his own. “With your help,” he said, smiling when her face lit up.

“Focus,” he instructed. “Think of the object you wish to project. See it in your mind's eye. Do you have it?”

Astrid stared with comical intensity at their joined hands, a little dent forming on her forehead. “Got it,” she announced after a few moments.

“Good, keep concentrating,” he instructed as he opened his hands, prompting her to do the same.

Resting in Astrid's palms was a narrow insect nearly an inch long, with black wings accented by yellow along the edges, and a yellow-red-black target pattern on its head. As Loki watched, the creature unfurled its wings and took off, hovering a few inches in the air.

There the black and yellow underbelly was exposed, the latter of which began glowing at regular intervals.

“It's a lightning bug!” Astrid announced proudly.

“I see! Very well done,” Loki congratulated her.

“Thanks! Your turn, Daddy.”

“I don't know how I could possibly follow that performance, but I shall try.”

Closing his eyes, Loki slowly raised his arms, palms upward. Rich green light emanated from them, spreading throughout the room, replacing the furniture and bookcases with a verdant forest, teeming with wildlife.

A (quietly) roaring waterfall appeared where a lamp stood moments before, the stream it emptied into bubbling alongside Astrid's bed. Above them towered a majestic apple tree, its branches populated with vibrantly colored birds.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Ready.”

Music softly swelled around them as they began the chorus, altering the tune to that of a lullaby:

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home”

After a pause, Loki took the lead for the verse, his warm baritone voice settling over the room like a cozy blanket.

I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene

Over isbreen tar jeg meg frem

I eplehagen står møyen den vene

Og synger…

Loki gestured to Astrid, inviting her to finish the line.

She looked skyward, her fledgling soprano filling the air as she sweetly sang, “når kommer du hjem?”

They repeated the chorus once more, softly clapping to the beat of the fading music.

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

Når hun synger, hun synger “kom hjem”

Men trærne de danser og fossene stanser

When she sings, she sings “come home”

When she sings, she sings “come home”

With a flick of Loki’s wrists, the illusion dissolved and Astrid’s room returned to normal.

“Right, you. Sleepy time,” he said firmly, pressing his index finger to her forehead, prompting her to fall back theatrically onto the pillows.

“Did Uncle Thor hear us, Daddy?”

Loki hummed as he tucked the covers around her.

“What do you think, Astrid?”

The little girl tilted her head, giving it careful consideration.

She nodded decidedly, hugging Fenny closely.

“I know he did.”

Loki smiled, lines crinkling around his eyes.

“That's what I believe too,” he agreed, kissing the top of Astrid's head.

Sleep finally began to win, Astrid’s eyelids drooping heavily.

“God natt, Pappa,” she yawned.

Loki’s chest squeezed hearing her speak in Frigga’s dialect.

He waved his hand once more, casting an illusion of stars and swirling galaxies on the bedroom ceiling.

“God natt, min skatt,” he replied as he closed the door softly.

He walked past the study on his way to the primary suite (the paperwork would keep), pausing outside the bedroom door.

“Heimdall?” he murmured. “Tell Thor a little girl is desperately missing her uncle.”

Creeping quietly, Loki made his way to the bed to slide under the covers and wrap his arm around Aspen.

“Ya big softie,” she mumbled, pointing to the silent video feed on the baby monitor.

Loki chuckled in response. There was no point in denying it.

He pulled her closer and burrowed his face in her hair.

“Only for the two of you.”

...

I headcanon that Asgardian sounds more Icelandic, and Vanir, which I assume Frigga would have spoken as a first language, would more closely resemble Norwegian, since that's the language they used in the Loki series.

Lille venn translates to "little friend," or in the context of a parent speaking to a child, it means "little darling."

God natt means "good night."

Min skatt means "my treasure."