#aspens mug

[thornestar]

Going to see my good friend’s metal band and some psychedelic Japanese music!!!

They are staring at 5pm and this is exciting because my illness is worse in the evenings and I usually can’t sit up long enough to go to a show.

I’m so excited but I’m trying to calm my ass down so I don’t get worn out before we even leave the house 🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀🙀

[buckets-and-trees]

What You Want

Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

READ THE SEQUEL: NOW THAT I SAW YOU

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[heartfullofleeches]

Drabble ft Thembo Darling mistaking one of Aspen [Housewife Yan]'s night slips for a tank top. (GN Reader, but they are described as having big naturtals and slightly implied to be taller than Aspen. Reader's chest is referred to as tits once or twice. Slightly suggestive.)

-

Wedded and residing in the same home as your spouse for several odd years, misplacement of your separate possessions as individuals is a one of numerous staples tied to married life. Your toothbrush in the slot where his would normally be. Leaving home smelling of lavender and honey instead of your regular body soap. Taking out the trash in pink slippers due to your own being nowhere in sight.

It's never been a point of issue to either of you. As a matter of fact, your wife seems delighted to find you at the breakfast table sipping from his favorite mug.

Groggy and drained of energy by the steam of a nice, hot shower before bed, you stumble into the bedroom as the click of the bathroom door muffles the sound of running water. Your wife enjoyed taking his time when he had it to spare, but unfortunately you were too exhausted to stay with him longer.

Pawing through the darkness, your fingers lace around the chilled knob of the top dresser drawer where you normally kept your nightwear. The insistence of your wife urging you to join him lead to you forgetting to grab a shirt for yourself. Losing your battle with the beast known as fatigue, you grab the closet one - throwing it over head as you switch trajectory for the bed.

"Something feels.....off."

As the fabric petals around you, you immediately notices something strange about the garment both in texture and the form at which it shapes to your frame. At first feel, you chalked the silk like touch of the shirt as some effect of the new laundry detergent Aspen picked up the other day. For a split moment, you pondered if you even put on anything to begin with - the material light and breathable like warm spring air. The familiar bind of your tank tops makes an appearance as the shirt rides the curve of your ample chest, biting the skin as you huff in frustration.

"Did it shrink in the wash?? Didn't he just buy these for me?"

Fiddling with oddly thin straps, your tits squish through the top of the shirt as you pull its hem in tandem. Your nipples pucker at the iciness cupping your chest as the fabric adjusts to the warmth of hot-bloodded body. Your teeth chatter as cool air blows over your bare stomach - the shirt barely having enough material to cover your navel.

"This thing totally shrunk! And it's brand new too...."

Slumped in defeat, cherubic humming echoes from behind the bathroom door - crescendoing as the handle turns and a figure shrouded in fog steps out. Aspen hangs his towel on the shower rack drilled to the backside of the door, facing away from you as he questions-

"Is everything alright, my love? Could've sworn i heard you saying something a moment ago."

"I think my tank top shrunk in the wash...."

"What?!" Aspen spins on his heels, expression flared in shock and surpise at your declaration. "But I just bought those for you! First thing tomorrow, we're marching down to that store to get you clothes that can survive more than one wash."

"I know." You whine, plopping down on the bed center of the brilliance still bleeding through the bathroom door. Aspen's jaws fall slack as he stares at you, but the source of his disbelief no longer regards the alleged faulty tank top.

"Darling?"

"You didn't even need to buy me new ones, but it was sweet of you to do anyway."

"Darling."

"And look what happened. Having to return gifts is the worst!"

"Darling!"

"Huh?!?" You snap to attention as your wife shouts, the fat of your well endowed bust nearly slipping over the low cut of your attire as you jump from the fright of if all. Breath violently yanked from his person, Aspen stammers for the proper words to say as he fans himself.

"Good heavens, if there are higher powers above, please give me strength." Aspen mutters feverishly to himself - regaining his prim and proper composure as he clasps his hands together; nails digging into his skin to remind him of self control.

"Dearest. My sweet angel, my love of loves - you are not wearing one of your shirts. You are wearing one of my slips."

Oh.

Ohhhh.

That explains- so much. More specifically the spilts at the sides and what you now recognize as frilly lace stitched around the hems.

"Oh, no. I'm stretching it all out, aren't I? Here, I'll try to get it off before I completely ruin it."

"NO!" Aspen's hands shoot forward as if you're inches from placing your hand on a hot stove. He clears his throat, rounding the bed to where you sat.

"Ruined is a rather bold claim, wouldnt you say? You already have it on, so there's no point in taking it off. Besides, I have plenty more you can stretch out some other day. It's getting late. Why don't we lie down?"

"I guess you're right..."

Sighing, you roll onto your backside as Aspen crawls over to his side of the mattress to join you. Elastic expanding to the fullest of its limits, your nipples peak out the sidelines of the slip as you lay there none the wiser.

Aspen shoves his knuckles between his teeth to stop himself from screaming.

[mochinomnoms]

Ok si for the small snippet requests- ptm jadeyuu, but it's at the point where yuu starts getting a little downbad and just starts playing into jades lil scenarios more and he freaks out cause his day is going SO MUCH BETTER now. Thank you!

🦩

Having a crush when you're a mind reader can have its cons...but also some pros~

Also I wrote this while listening to Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey, I very recommend listening while reading for the vibe

You blew hot air against your hands, rubbing them as you watched the snow fall outside the window.

Winter had come early this year and your dorm members had taken to playing in the snow. Everyone was enjoying themselves, even Aspen was smiling, though yelping as he was smacked in the face by a snowball.

You laughed as he chased after Tony, tackling him into the ground as they both cackled with a red flush over their cheeks.

Ramshackle had very little traffic, even with the students in your care, which left it rather pristine and ideal for making snowmen and fights. Plenty of students from the other dorms were hanging around between classes, some even in your kitchen making warm drinks and snacks.

Which is why you weren't surprised when a mug of hot chocolate appeared in your peripheral vision. Looking up, you softly smiled and gave a small 'thank you' as you took the mug from Jade, who took a spot next to you, leaning against the porch railing to watch the small group of students playing in the snow.

He was in the winter version of the school uniform, which just came with a thicker jacket, a scarf, boots, and snow gloves. Though, you're positive that Aspen mentioned that none of them needed it, as they were well acquainted with the cold. It was mostly to keep up appearances, Floyd being the exception as he forwent the gloves and jacket.

My pretty pearl, you look radiant against the snowfall. I feel like I'm falling for you all over again…

Your cheeks warmed, despite the biting cold, and you masked your smile behind your mug as Jade stared at you from the corner of his eyes. When you dared to look at him, his gazed immediately darted back to the others. He had a red flush over his cheeks, which could be due to the cold, but you knew better.

Both of you chuckled as Silas, holding a giant snowball over their head, jumped and slammed the snow on top of Yaqub's head with a shit eating grin.

“They seem to be having fun. I know Floyd is coming over to have a snowball fight with Tony in a bit, will you be joining?”

You shook your head, watching the marshmallows swirl in your mug.

“Nah, I'm probably gonna head in here in a few. My hands are freezing, and I don't have gloves anyways.” You sighed, drinking your hot chocolate and relishing in the warmth flowing to your belly.

Jade tilted his head, watching as you lifted one of your hands to blow on it again.

“Would you like some help warming up?” You weren't surprised at the flash of an image of Jade and you 'warming up' in front of the lounge fireplace under a lush blanket. “I'm happy to assist.”

You know what response he was waiting for. You know that he'd come to expect your flustered and panicked stammering, putting as much space between you two as possible. It's a very 'you' response.

I can do this, I can give the same energy! Yeah! No more playing around with me, Jade! It's my turn!

“Hmm? And just how do you plan to 'warm me up' Jade~” You cooed, batting your eyelashes and smiling up at him.

You're surprised just how…sultry that came out. I didn't think I could sound like…like…something out of Jade's daydreams! Jade seemed surprised as well, snapping his head to stare at you.

His face still had his same polite smile, though you swear his cheeks turned a bit more red.

“…Pardon? Could you repeat that?” Jade asked, though there was a bit of breathlessness to his voice.

Did you…no I must have imagined…

“Well, there's lots of ways to warm someone up,” You shrugged, looking down at your drink and tracing the edge of the mug. “You caaaan…start a fire…get me a blanket…skin to skin contact…”

Haaaah, is this real?

“Human lovers will cuddle with each other, and do more...intimate things together to warm up.” You finally turned to face him, watching him visibly swallow.

Now I'm just being mean.

“Is…that so? That's good to know.” Jade's voice sounded strained, though his face betrayed very little. If it wasn't for the screaming echoing through his mind, you wouldn't be able to tell this was effecting him.

“Mmh, so, Jade~” You slowly crept closer to him, your still free hand doing the same along the rail to inch closer to his fingertips.

“How do you plan to warm me up, Jade?”

You had to crane your head to look up, causing a creak in the back of your neck, as there was barely an inch of space between you two. Frankly, though, it was worth it to see the wide-eyed surprise on his face.

It's real! Bless the Seven! It'srealIt'srealIt'srealIt'srealIt'sreal—

“Well, I—”

“Can watch everyone while I warm up in the kitchen!” You chirped, quickly backing away and smiling. “I'm sure it's plenty warm in there with the others running the oven!”

W-what?

Hmph, that's what he gets. You started walking away towards the front door, a smug smile on your face. Just a taste of what he puts me through every day—

You swallowed a shriek as Jade caged you against the wall with his arms, dropping your mug in surprise. You could hear it clatter against the wood floor and the hot drink fizzle against the cold surface.

Curling in on yourself, you looked up at Jade, who was giving you a smile and narrowed glare, his sharp teeth visible. He had a glint in his eyes and his flush was growing down to his neck.

“Now, now my dear,” he leaned down, speaking softly as he hovered his face closer and closer to yours, until you pressed your hands against his chest, stopping him.

“It's not nice to be a tease, stunts like that would get you eaten up in the sea.” Jade's nose brushed against yours, his smile growing as you grew more flustered.

“Unless, you're trying to be a tease~” Jade's right hand moved to graze your cheek with his finger.

This is going too far, I should…

Your skin felt tingly as he ghosted down to your chin, tracing the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip.

“Talking about lovers, acting coy.”

…I should make him…stop…

He pulled it down, ever so slightly, making you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding.

Cute…

“You shouldn't play around with things like that.”

“I'm…not…” you let out a whimper as his breath mixed with yours, lips hovering over your own. You could hear his breath hitch at the sound.

“No? Then prove it, unless you want me to 'warm you up' in front of everyone?”

Swallowing another whimper and feeling your cheeks and body warm from something other than your drink, you licked your lips. You felt him shudder as your lips just barely brush, moving to press them together—

“Ooooh, how scandalous!”

You shrieked, out loud this time, shoving Jade away as you accidentally smack his face to get some space between you two.

“Ack!” Jade covered his face with his hands, wrinkling his nose from the sudden pain.

You stared in a mix of embarrassment and bewilderment at the small group watching you two at the railing.

Silas was grinning, fulling leaning his body over the railing as he kicked his legs behind him like a child. Yaqub and Tony looked just as amused, the former hiding his giggling behind his hand. Aspen, to no one's surprised, had a sour look on his face, disappointed even, while Wynfred was pouting. Marion had the decently to look embarrassed that he was caught staring, looking down at his feet like they were the most interesting things he'd seen all day. James, sweet James, just looked confused.

“…I didn't know you two were dating?”

“We're not!” You waved your hands in a panic, laughing nervously as you stepped away from Jade, who was now glaring at the group with an annoyed frown.

“Then, why were you two kissing—” James jumped, as did the rest of the group as you screeched.

“HE WAS JUST BLOWING HOT AIR ON MY HANDS, THAT'S IT! NOTHING ELSE!”

You laughed manically as you clapped your hands, inching closer to the door.

“You know I'm still cold! Are you guys cold? Yeah, you are!” You continued nervously laughing as you turned and practically bolted to the front door, the snow on the ledges falling from the sheer force of your slam.

The group and Jade stared at where you disappeared, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop in the snow.

“…So you two were, like, totally making out, right?” Silas asked, letting out an 'oof' as Marion smack that back of their head, making them fall face-first into the wooden patio.

Jade gave his signature smile, bowing his head.

“Perhaps you all should go back to playing, I should check on the poor Prefect, though might I advise not interrupting a pair's private conversation next time?”

Yaqub scoffed, elbowing Tony as he teased, “Conversation, sure. Maybe next time you two should have your next 'conversation' in the bedroom?”

The two snorted, Tony choking into a cough at Aspen's glare.

“Thank you for the kind suggestion, I'll be sure to consider it.” Jade called out as he entered the dorm, determined to continue from where you two left off.

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 12

word count: 3.6k

just a little something just cause lol! please please send me more plot ideas + ways to carry on the story from here. i was also thinking of drafting up 3-4 chaptes at a time to post back to back, meaning i would wait until i had 3/4 chapters, post those, and i wouldn't post another part until i had another group to post! just want to test the waters with algorithm! thank u and enjoy! Kirsten's eyes scanned the coffee shop, spotting the familiar blonde locks that belonged to Isobel seated near the back corner by the window. With an excited grin, she hurried across the room, her boots clicking against the tiled floor. "Hey, girl!" she exclaimed, leaning over to hug Isobel from behind, one arm wrapping snugly around her shoulder. The embrace was quick but warm before Kirsten slid into the seat across from her friend.

"I say we get a cup of coffee before my head actually falls off," Kirsten added with a light laugh, slinging her purse over the back of her chair. Isobel smiled in return, her sunny demeanor always so easygoing.

"We should! Aspen said she'd swing by before her shift. She hasn't seen you in a while," Isobel mentioned, already pulling out her phone to text Aspen and let her know they were waiting.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Meanwhile, Aspen walked along the bustling sidewalk with her fingers loosely intertwined with Harry's. The rhythmic clatter of their footsteps on the pavement was offset by the warmth of his hand in hers. His car was parked just down the block, but Aspen had wanted to take her time, enjoying the crisp air and the gentle press of his thumb tracing idle circles on the back of her hand.

They'd stolen a few moments together before leaving her apartment—a series of kisses that made Aspen giggle against his lips as she tried to protest. "I have to work," she had murmured, though her laughter made it clear she wasn't exactly resisting.

"You've got time," Harry had teased back, his hands firm on her waist, holding her close.

"Not if I stop to see Kirsten first," she managed, her voice soft as her fingers slid into the curls at the nape of his neck.

Now, as they approached the coffee shop, Aspen felt a small knot of nerves bubbling up. She hadn't spent much time with Kirsten since things with Harry had... shifted, and though she trusted him, the lingering thought of Kirsten's connection to him still sat quietly in the back of her mind. She pushed it away with the memory of his lips on hers and the way his hands always sought to ground her, as though she was the only thing that mattered in his orbit.

They reached the coffee shop, and Harry reached out to tug the wooden door open for her, his broad shoulders dipping as he gave her a small grin. "M'lady," he teased with a mock bow.

Aspen laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stepped inside. The smell of roasted beans and cinnamon hit her immediately, along with the buzz of conversation and the occasional clatter of mugs. Her brown eyes swept across the room until they landed on the back of Kirsten's head and Isobel's unmistakable smile.

She swore her steps quickened on their own, an excited energy bubbling up as she weaved her way through the crowd. "Kirsten! Isobel!" Aspen chirped, practically bouncing as she reached their table.

"Hey!" Kirsten's voice was bright, though her eyes briefly flicked past Aspen to Harry, who stood a few steps behind her, his hands casually tucked into his jean pockets. Aspen leaned down to give both girls quick hugs, her natural warmth on full display.

Harry lingered just behind her chair, a quiet but steady presence as Aspen took her seat. Kirsten's sharp eyes darted between the two of them, her brows quirking slightly. "Didn't realize you two were suddenly... friends," she said, the hint of snark in her tone not lost on Harry.

Aspen, however, missed it completely, her focus already on explaining. "Oh! We just... got over our differences. He's actually taking me to work, so we can't stay too long," she said with a shy smile, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of her sleeve.

Kirsten's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, her lips pressing into a thin line before she glanced at Isobel, who seemed entirely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. Internally, Kirsten felt the pang of jealousy coil tightly in her chest, sharp and biting. She hated it—the way the green tendrils of envy wrapped around her thoughts, squeezing and twisting. Aspen was her friend, after all, and she didn't want to begrudge her anything. But no matter how much she tried to shove the feeling down, it was relentless.

The truth was, Kirsten couldn't shake the belief that she could give Harry something Aspen couldn't. She'd known him longer, shared laughter over inside jokes Aspen wasn't a part of, and seen the confident, teasing side of him before Aspen had likely even noticed he existed. There had been fleeting moments between her and Harry—ones she had replayed in her head more times than she'd admit. The way his scent would linger just a beat too long, the spark in his eye when he playfully teased her, and the times his hand had brushed hers in a way that made her wonder if it meant something more.

What did Aspen have that she didn't? Sweetness? Shyness? Kirsten wanted to scoff. That wasn't enough to hold Harry's attention, was it? Not someone like him. Aspen was soft, quiet, unsure of herself. Kirsten, on the other hand, was bold and confident. She knew how to handle someone like Harry, knew what he needed. She could give him everything Aspen wouldn't even think to offer.

But as Kirsten's eyes flicked back to Harry, watching the way his gaze stayed unwaveringly fixed on Aspen, it felt like a slap. His expression wasn't just attentive—it was adoring. There was a softness in his eyes that made Kirsten's stomach churn with something unpleasant and bitter. He looked at Aspen like she was something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable. Like he'd move mountains for her without a second thought.

And that's what made it worse. Kirsten had never seen that look in his eyes for anyone else—not even for her, despite all the moments she'd convinced herself had meant more. It made her wonder if she'd ever really stood a chance at all.

As the thought settled heavily in her mind, her nails lightly tapped against the edge of the table, frustration bubbling under the surface. She hated herself for it—for the jealous, mean-spirited voice in her head that whispered Aspen didn't deserve him. That Aspen would never be able to keep someone like Harry interested, not in the long run. And yet, that voice only grew louder when she glanced at her friend's shy, happy smile, completely oblivious to the storm brewing just inches away.

Kirsten turned her attention back to Harry, her lips curling into a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. There was still a chance, wasn't there?

But the way he stood there, his eyes soft and unwavering as they stayed trained on Aspen, made Kirsten's stomach churn. He looked at her like she was something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable.

Kirsten finally broke the silence. "Harry, can I talk to you for a second? Before you go?" Her voice was casual, but there was a flicker of something in her tone—something unreadable.

Harry hesitated, his eyes flicking to Aspen. She gave him a small, trusting smile and nodded, silently urging him. "Go ahead," she said softly.

Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the irritation creeping into his frame, before giving Aspen's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She barely looked up, caught in the whirlwind of conversation with Isobel, and he used her distraction as an excuse to leave. His boots clicked against the floor as he followed Kirsten toward the door, the tension rolling off him in waves.

The moment they were out of earshot, Harry's body language shifted. He leaned casually against the pillar, his arms folding loosely across his chest, but there was nothing relaxed about him. His green eyes were sharp, a silent warning gleaming beneath his furrowed brows.

"Is there something I can help you with?" His tone carried a measured bite, enough to get his point across without fully snapping.

"Woah, easy there, tiger." Kirsten's lips curled into a smirk, but her playful tone only seemed to stoke the fire. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tilted her head at him. "No need to be hostile."

Harry's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. He didn't bother hiding it, and his brow arched, urging her to get on with it. He had no patience for games, not when Kirsten had already been making her judgment so clear with every stolen glance and barbed comment.

Kirsten sighed, crossing her arms as her eyes darted back toward Aspen and Isobel. They were lost in conversation, Aspen's soft laughter breaking the ambient hum of the coffee shop. The sight made her stomach twist—not with happiness, but with something dark and uneasy. She turned back to Harry, her confidence slipping momentarily before she straightened her shoulders.

"Look, H," she began, her voice low. Harry's expression hardened at the nickname, a flicker of disapproval crossing his features. "I don't know what's going on between you and Aspen, but..."

"But?" Harry's voice had an edge, sharp and unyielding. His eyes narrowed, daring her to continue. He could see where this was headed—he'd seen it all before, felt the same gnawing jealousy she was trying to mask. He recognized the way her gaze lingered too long, the calculating pauses in her words. It mirrored his own restless thoughts when Aspen had mentioned Shawn.

"But," she pressed on, her voice quieter now, as if she were reluctant to say the words. "I just don't know if it's... right. For someone like you."

The words hit him like a challenge, and Harry's lips curled into a humorless smile. He let out a sharp, unamused laugh, shaking his head. "What's that supposed to mean?" His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with restrained anger.

Kirsten faltered for a moment, her confidence cracking under the weight of his glare. "I just mean... you don't need gentle, or kind, or sweet," she said, the words spilling out in a rush. "That's not who you are, Harry, and it's not what you're used to."

His laugh this time was louder, colder, and Kirsten flinched at the sound. Embarrassment prickled at her skin, but she lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. If he was going to mock her, she wasn't going to shrink under it.

"I know what you like," she continued, her voice regaining some of its earlier bravado. "I can handle you. I can take what you give, however rough it is. Can Aspen say the same? I mean, have you two even done anything besides kiss? If even that?"

Harry blinked, disbelief flashing across his face. For a moment, he was silent, his arms tightening across his chest as if to ground himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and deadly calm. "What I do—or don't do—with Aspen is none of your business. If I'm not interested, then I'm not interested. Got it?"

He turned on his heel, his focus already back on Aspen. He could feel the seconds ticking by, and he didn't want to waste any more time entertaining Kirsten's desperate attempts to get under his skin. Aspen's shift started soon, and he had plans to steal a few more moments with her before she had to leave.

"Wait," Kirsten blurted, her hand flying out to rest against his chest. He barely spared her a glance, stepping back as if her touch burned.

"What?" His voice was clipped, his patience wearing thin.

Kirsten's eyes softened, her lips curving into what she thought was a tempting smile. "Come by tonight," she murmured, her tone low and inviting. "While she's at work. I can show you what a big mistake you're making."

Harry froze, his brows arching as he let out an incredulous hum. He didn't move, didn't speak, and Kirsten's heart raced, convinced for a moment that she'd gotten through to him. Her pulse quickened as his tall frame leaned forward and his head dipped slightly, his lips hovering near her ear.

"No," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. He pulled back, catching the stunned look on her face, and for the first time since their conversation started, he allowed a smirk to cross his lips.

Turning away with a scoff, he walked back toward Aspen, muttering under his breath, "Un-fucking-believable."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

In the car, Harry's hand rested on her mid-thigh over her jeans. He gently patted her thigh to get her attention off the road, glancing over at her when she turned her attention to him immediately. "I wanted t'tell you something," Harry started off. For the last few minutes on their walk back to his car and when they pushed out onto the road again, the conversation he had with Kirsten burned into his thoughts. 

He was conflicted on telling Aspen. On one hand, he vowed to communicate with her and to tell her everything, which he had been doing great at so far. On the other, he was hesitant because of Aspen and Kirstens friendship and what could become of it. Aspen tried her best to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. If his hand was still on her thigh under her hands, then it shouldn't be anything bad. It was a built in habit for Aspen to worry over the worst case scenario before reasoning with other explanations.

"When Kirsten pulled me aside to talk to me," Harry glanced over to Aspen before he turned back to the road, "it was a little... alarming." His brows furrowed as he sighed, the car rolling to a stop at the intersection. So he took that minute to look at her and once again, he saw her questioning look. He gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze gently.

Harry let out a slow exhale, his thumb unconsciously tracing light circles against the fabric of her jeans. Aspen's gaze flickered between his hand and his face, her brow knitting together in a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He could feel her body tense slightly beneath his touch, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

"When Kirsten pulled me aside to talk," Harry started again, his voice calm but tinged with irritation at the memory, "she said some things that were... out of line."

Aspen blinked, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but she stopped herself, waiting for him to continue. Harry noticed the slight downturn of her mouth, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of her sleeve.

"She implied," he hesitated, gripping the wheel tighter as the car started moving again, "that you weren't right f'me. That I should... I don't know, be with someone more like her."

Aspen's chest tightened, and she quickly averted her gaze to the passing scenery. Her mind reeled, the sting of Kirsten's words cutting deep even though they hadn't been said to her directly. She felt small, like a fragile thing in the shadow of her friend's confidence and boldness.

Harry's grip on the steering wheel tightened further, his knuckles whitening as he continued. "And then she had the nerve to invite me over later," he said, his tone laced with disbelief. "To 'change my mind,' she said." He scoffed, the memory still fresh and irritating. "Like I'd even consider somethin' like that. I shut it down immediately."

Aspen's breath hitched, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap as her mind tried to reconcile the words. Kirsten had done that? It was one thing for her to think such things, but to actively say them—and then take it a step further by trying to pull Harry away—felt like a betrayal Aspen hadn't expected. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to retreat into her thoughts entirely.

Harry glanced at her, catching the flicker of doubt and hurt in her expression. "Aspen," he said firmly, his voice softening as he reached over to rest his hand on hers. "It didn't matter what she said. It doesn't matter. I didn't even hesitate to turn her down. There's no way—no chance—I'd ever let her or anyone else come between us."

Aspen nodded slightly, her eyes still downcast but her grip on his hand tightening just enough for him to know she was listening. She swallowed hard, willing herself to push past the ache in her chest as she focused on the reassurance in his voice.

Aspen's chest felt heavy, her mind swirling with Kirsten's betrayal. Her friend—the one she'd confided in, laughed with, trusted—had thought so little of her. Worse, Kirsten had seen fit to say those things to Harry, to try and plant doubt where Aspen had already fought to build fragile confidence. The idea of being compared to someone as bold and self-assured as Kirsten made her feel small, like her quiet nature and shyness weren't enough, like she wasn't enough.

Her heart twisted painfully as Harry's words replayed in her mind. "That you weren't right for me." She knew he hadn't meant to hurt her by saying it, but the sting of those words stuck, a reflection of her own insecurities. She felt raw, exposed, as though Kirsten had picked apart everything she feared about herself and laid it bare.

Aspen's eyes welled slightly as she stared out the window, unwilling to let Harry see the tears threatening to spill. She knew he wasn't to blame—he'd stood up for her, defended their relationship, and shut Kirsten down—but the hurt lingered, deep and consuming. Why would Kirsten do this? Was I ever her friend to begin with?

A part of her wanted to retreat, to bury the feelings and nod along to Harry's reassurances. But the ache in her chest told her this wasn't something she could easily shake off. Kirsten's actions had struck at the very core of what Aspen struggled with—her worth.

Harry's eyes darted to her as they neared the library, catching the way her shoulders slumped. He didn't miss the faint flicker of hurt crossing her features before she hid it, burying her reaction behind her usual shy reserve. His jaw tightened as guilt pooled in his chest. He shouldn't have told her. It wasn't her fault, and now he could see the weight of it settling on her.

When he pulled into the small parking lot behind the library and killed the engine, Harry turned toward her, his hand still resting on her thigh. Aspen stayed silent, her fingers still playing with the threads of her sleeve as she stared at her lap.

"Hey," Harry said softly, tilting his head to try and catch her gaze. When she didn't look up, he reached over, his fingers gently tilting her chin so her eyes met his. His heart ached at the uncertainty he saw there, her wide brown eyes searching his face for answers.

"You've got t'know," he began, his voice low and steady, "that nothing anyone says about us— about you— is ever going to change how I feel." He paused, brushing his thumb lightly against her cheek, his gaze unwavering. "You're it f'me, Aspen. You're what I want. No one else, not now, not ever."

Aspen's breath hitched, her cheeks warming under his touch. She blinked a few times, processing his words as a flood of relief began to wash away the sting of Kirsten's actions. "But... Kirsten—." she started, her voice barely above a whisper, but Harry shook his head, cutting her off gently.

"Kirsten doesn't get to decide who's right f'me," he said firmly. "That's not her place. And honestly? She couldn't be more wrong." He let his hand drop from her face to hold hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're kind, you're thoughtful, y'make me want t'be better... You're everything I didn't know I needed. It's only your place to tell me those things. I only care 'bout what y'think and what y'want."

Aspen's lips parted slightly, and she tried to form a response, but the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. Instead, she nodded, her eyes glistening as she looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and shyness. Harry hummed softly, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

"I mean it," he murmured against her skin before pulling back to look at her again. "Kirsten doesn't matter, alright? You're the one I want, Aspen. Always. I don't ever doubt myself, especially not after I realized you're it for me. I don't need dark hair or terribly designed tattoos or an overwhelming amount of confidence. I's you, always you."

Her lips finally curled into a small, bashful smile, and she nodded again, her fingers curling tighter around his hand. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion. Aspen exhaled, her shoulders falling relaxed.

Harry chuckled lightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Y'don't have to thank me, love. Just... believe me, yeah? I promise tha' I mean every word."

"I do," Aspen said shyly, her cheeks flushing deeper. "T-thank you for telling me, Harry."

Harry smiled his lopsided smile, his heart swelling at her words and he mumbled out a small ''f course.' . He leaned in again, this time capturing her lips in a gentle but reassuring kiss, pouring every bit of his sincerity into the moment. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Now, go knock 'em dead at work," he said with a smirk, making her laugh softly. She nodded, her earlier worries now replaced with a quiet sense of security. Aspen leaned into his hands that reached up to cup her cheeks and wipe away at her eyes. Her lips brushed a gentle kiss to his palm with another content sigh.

As she gathered her bag and stepped out of the car, Harry watched her go, a content smile playing on his lips. Whatever doubts Kirsten had tried to plant, they didn't stand a chance—not when he had Aspen, and not when he was so sure she was everything he'd ever want. 

[elliott-the-creature]

hey, what’s up, it’s me, ur creature Flax! I thought I’d share my giant namehoard with you all. they’re pretty much all nouns/adjectives (although K may do a part two with human names). any of my FAVOURITE names will have a star beside them (three stars means it’s a top favourite)

hope you all enjoy, and feel free to use any of these for yourself; we don’t mind :3

-🌿🪲

putting it under the cut because holy crap it’s a lot

Nature related

Willow

Clover ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Reed

Birch ⭐️

Aspen

Mangrove

Oak

Hickory

Pine

Fern

Ivy

Thistle ⭐️

Rose

Orchid

Primrose

Buttercup

Bloom

Lily

Brook

River ⭐️

Rain ⭐️

Thunder

Cloud/cloudy

Sun/sunny

Blizzard

Flurry

Frost

Hail ⭐️

Torrent

Reef

Meadow

Ridge

Fen ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Marsh

Bog

Forest

Boreal

Conifer

Deciduous

Animals

Mouse

Rabbit ⭐️

Bunny

Rat

Puppy/Pup

Kitty/Kit

Tiger

Leopard

Ocelot

Sheep

Cow

Macaw

Pigeon ⭐️

Hawk

Owl

Dove

Chickadee

Lizard

Gecko ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Manta

Orca

Beetle ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Bee

Lepidoptera

Hymenoptera

Spider ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Weevil ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Objects/clothes

Button ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Jacket ⭐️

Mittens

Mug

Novel

Hoodie

Plush

Cottage

Monocle

Mannequin

Doll ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Acrylic

Tupperware

Socks

Toque/beanie (they’re the same thing so I’m grouping them together)

Patch ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Miscellaneous (aka me mixing a whole load of small categories together)

Mono ⭐️

Four

Five ⭐️

Six ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Seven

Eight

Nine ⭐️

Eleven

Liar

Handsome

Dreamer

Shade

Mercury

Venus

Mars

Jupiter

Saturn

Neptune ⭐️

Amethyst

Garnet

Pearl

Bismuth

Tourmaline ⭐️

Moonstone

Jade

Yellow

Green ⭐️

Blue

Lavender

Indigo ⭐️

Taupe

Mauve

Grey

Ivory

[starry-hughes]

christmas music (cole mcward)

day 19 of star’s ficmas

aspen hughes x cole mcward (au)

Aspen Hughes had moved out to Vancouver to live with her brother at the end of her junior year of college at Michigan. She had gotten her heartbroken and despite all her friends being in Michigan, she needed a change of scenery.

Enter Cole McWard. Cole had gone to play with the Canucks after Ohio’s season ended and had officially met the sister of Quinn at the beginning of the Canucks training camp. They were quick friends, then Aspen kissed him.

Then Cole led her to his apartment. Then their nights between the sheets became a secret. It was probably what Aspen needed. She needed a boy to show her that she was worthy of love, who didn’t control who she talked to or got mad at for minor things. Cole was showing her what love was without her even realizing.

Despite feeling sick, Aspen was spending every moment she could with Cole. She had been feeling sick for a bit, but chalked it up to nothing, saying the temperature change and her seasonal allergies were affecting her differently this year. Plus, the pregnancy test she had taken was negative, but had no idea it was a false negative.

“You still feeling sick?” Cole frowned as he brought her a cup of tea as she lounged on his couch. She used the excuse of not wanting to be alone in her own apartment to go see him when Quinn was on roadtrips. With Cole playing with Abbotsford, his schedule didn’t match with Quinn’s so they were able to sneak some extra time together with no one knowing. “Yeah, I’ll probably go to the doctor or something while I’m in Michigan for break,” Aspen reassured him. Cole didn’t mind that he wasn’t getting any extra curricular activities since Aspen was sick, he cared about more than just the sex with her.

Aspen had bought a mini Christmas tree for his apartment and brought her own blanket with her to his apartment. “There’s nothing on TV,” Cole complained as he plopped next to her on the couch. She curled into his side, he sucked in a breath, he loved when she got like this. “Put on the Christmas music channel.”

Cole did as told, the music of Santa Baby filling the room. “I got you a Christmas gift,” he said softly. “Oh… I didn’t get you one,” she turned red. “It’s okay, it’s nothing major or anything!” he said quickly before leaning over and grabbing the small present that Aspen hadn’t noticed was on his coffee table. “Cole…”

Aspen placed down her mug of tea and carefully tore the wrapping paper off and opened the small box. “I know you know where the spare key is, but I thought you deserved an actual key.” Her face was red and she could have cried. Her ex didn’t even like her coming over and Cole was giving her this key.

The sound of I’ll Be Home for Christmas filled the room. Aspen jumped up off the could before she pulled Cole up to his feet. “Dance with me?”

Cole and Aspen swayed in the living room, Cole constantly tripping over his feet every other word, making Aspen giggle. The young adults, without knowledge of the things that were about to tie them together forever, danced and spun around the apartment living room to the soft music.

[arcielee]

Farewell Wanterlust

Warnings:  Sexism because it it the 9th century, tw: noncon, sexual assault mentioned, violent actions and torture describe. MDNI, 18+ Pairing: Osferth x OFC Word Count: 4107 Summary: Torn from her home country, Keavy finds herself trying to survive across the Irish sea. She happens across Uhtred and his motley crew, and finds herself befriending a monk who is determined to become a warrior.      Author’s Note: This will be a hybrid of the books and TLK show. The timelines will be adjusted for the plot and the names will match the Old English/9th Century. Please be mindful of chapter warnings as this shit will have dark moments and mature themes.     Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! Dividers are by @saradika​ ♥ Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aspen-carter @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @randomdragonfires @httpsdoll @triscy @assortedseaglass @whoknows333 @shesjustanothergeek​ @heavenly1927​ @greenowlfactif​ (bold for those I could not tag, but requested!) 

 Chapter 2

It had been ten days since the brothers, Erik and Sigefried, besieged Lunden. 

The city fell easily, which was something Keavy knew was inevitable from the mumbled worries of his lordship Æthelstan, something that he shared between her and his mug of ale. Though he had been baptized, she still saw the Dane that thrummed beneath the flesh and how it vibrated with that instilled knowledge, haunting him late at night to know that despite the structured wall that surrounded them, they did not have the manpower to keep it properly guarded. 

Keavy had been sent to Lunden after her refusal to join the nunnery in an official capacity. She was well aware of the weight of her decision, how it would uproot her, but the abbess did not fault Keavy for her choice; she knew this from the soft touch of her hand to her cheek that was not damaged, her simple gesture of understanding before she left Ebchester. 

She had grown into a strong-willed woman, both bright and vivacious. In all accounts, she was lovely as her mam claimed: she possessed womanly curves that pressed the seams of her simple frocks, with a milky white complexion and dark ringlets that billowed with her every determined step. 

Though Saxon men admired these physical traits, they all were overlooked the second their eyes fell to the parting gift from her mam. Her scar had healed dark, with blood red markings from the crude sutures that knitted the flesh together; it curled below her chin and stretched back towards her ear, with a second slash into her cheek downwards to her jaw bone. 

She was aware she was a gift for the baptism of Æthelstan of East Anglia but did not mind him; she was pleased to learn how he almost pitied her, which in turn allowed her a freedom within the city limits. He had noted right away how the Saxon men would be quick to look away with the superstitious whispers that she was a witch, some with a visible shudder, and were quick to disregard of her existence; he understood the blemish would allow her to be overlooked and she served as a set of eyes and ears amongst the cityfolk. 

Keavy ignored it all, their reactions, readily accepting her role and requesting to be trained alongside his men, so she could properly handle a sword. And he allowed it. 

It was a freedom she now mourned as she found herself pinned under the dark gaze of Sigefried these last ten days. 

The Danes had come under the cover of night and she awoke to the screams that rolled from the shores, echoing in the stone halls of the manor. She moved from the bed, throwing on her frock and cloak, grabbing her dagger and tucking the silver Celtic cross beneath her neckline. Keavy moved quickly from the castle, hiding in the shadows of the city as she made for her escape. 

She had come across a guardsmen, a young man she recognized from training in the courtyards, and he reached to take her hand. They moved together, quick and quiet amongst the bloodshed, slipping into an alleyway of cobblestone where they found a lone Dane taking a piss. 

The lad pushed her backwards, perhaps with a gallant effort to defend her but instead he was killed quickly. This distraction allowed her to draw her own blade and plunge it into the softness underneath the Dane’s jaw, far enough to gut his tongue so he could not scream. 

As she watched the blood seep between the stones, she thought back to the night when the slavers came and she knew from the haunting echo of slain screams that Lunden was lost. She wiped and sheathed her dagger, removing the silver cross, and wrapped both in her blood stained cloak. Keavy then picked up the sword and used it to lift some of the stones, burying it beneath, then dipping her fingers into the fresh blood that pooled and marking the stones.

She swore that she would survive this as well, that she would return for it, but if not, let it remain buried rather than be taken. 

Once she finished, a looming figure stepped to block her path. His face was shadowed and closer she saw his pupils were blown, which made his eyes as black as the night. He looked past her. “Did you kill them?” His tone gravely, and he said it with a smile that reached his eyes in a way that made her skin crawl. “You have killed one of my men so I ask how will you repay for this loss?” 

Her arms trembled with her grip on the sword, her fear rooted her stance but wavered under his dark eyes.  “I am not afraid to die tonight, Dane,” she spat back at him, but her bold tone cracked and betrayed her. 

His laugh was deep and reverberated around her. “I can see this,” and he was quick to close the space between them, knocking the steel from her grasp. It clamored to the stone and she felt his hot breath on her face. “You are not Saxon,” his larged palm grabbed her face and she felt the burn of her scar from his hold. “Do they teach their women across the Irish sea to fight?” 

She would not answer him, but she also did not look away. He only chuckled, his hand moving to grab a handful of her curls and pulling her as he made his way back towards the castle. Keavy grit her teeth, struggling to keep with his steps and ignoring the cheers from the Danes they passed as he took her to one of the rooms. 

Her fear now settled into her core, but she would not give the satisfaction of screaming as she knew still that no one would come for her. Lunden now belonged to the Danes and she knew her mam never considered that the marr given would not be a deterrent for their heathen cocks. 

It was fortunate and unfortunate how Sigefried seemed entertained by her stubbornness, her refusal to seek his favor and, in return, he would try and frighten her, to see the cracks in her practiced stoic mask. “When my cock tires of her, I will hump her with my good hand,” she once heard him say to his brother, the blonde Dane named Erik, and they laughed as he lifted his knifed arm.

Keavy just watched him with her steeled gaze, ignoring how her fear shuddered the length of her spine. I am cursed, she thought. Whatever faith the abbess tried to behest from the days spent in Ebchester died in the bed she was forced to share with the Dane. 

Each day dragged with her pettied struggle to remain alive. The Danes seemed insatiable in every sense, but she made sure to serve and refill their cups as the ale, which allowed her to slip from his grasp some nights, but the following day he would return his attention to her with a hungover vengeance. 

On the tenth day, she remained in the shadows of the courtyard, watching as the Danes nailed men to crosses. They were priests sent from Æthelstan to negotiate and the brothers treated them as sport. 

She watched, stone faced and her heart heavy, trying her best to block out their screams. Just the prior night she had been tasked to feed them and she managed to slip them apples from the orchid and hard cheeses along with the bread rationed for them. They begged her to free them but one had been quick to shush the men. 

“Do not risk their fury,” he warned her. His head was shaved, his beard haggard and his expression severe on his already hardened face; he made sure to thank her for the fresh fruit before she left them. 

Now she watched these same men with her solemn expression as they were nailed to the wood, the screams echoing throughout the courtyard. Keavy felt the eyes of Sigefried on her and he beckoned her closer; her steps felt heavy as she brought herself to stand behind and between him and his brother. 

“I still do not understand how this kills a man,” Sigefried casually commented, unaffected by their tortured cries. 

His brother shifted his weight, his unease more apparent. “Sigefried, take his head and be done with it,” and there was the hint of him pleading. 

“A cross kills a man slowly, lord, over days,” and their attention turned towards the same priest that spoke to her last night. In the sunlight, she saw the dirt on his face and the dark circles that framed his dark eyes. “It is both torture and execution.” 

“There,” his brother clasped his hand onto his shoulder. “You have your answer. Now take his head and be done with it.” 

And Keavy could no longer hear their exchange, her focus now fastened onto the men that walked towards them; her eyes watched the one who led them, his presence perking the interest of one of the heavier Danes that stood off to the side. 

“Uhtred Ragnarsson,” he announced. 

His very name breathed fire into her chest, a renewed flame for hope. 

Uhtred of Bebbanburg. 

Her mind returned to the stories that Lady Gisela had shared, how she swore of his honorable spirit. Keavy watched him like a beacon presented for her freedom. “Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” her voice rasped to interrupt and the eyes of the men fell to her, stopping the exchange they were having. “My lord, I know your lady wife.”

She saw that her words caught his attention and she burned under his hard stare, but before she could continue, she felt the backhand of Sigefriend catch her across her mouth. Her knees buckled and she fell back into the dirt, the taste of iron in her mouth, but she did not let it falter her words. “I owe her a debt, lord.”

As she prayed that the words would hold weight and take root, Uhtred peered at Sigefried. “Who is she to you?”

From behind, she saw the tension in his shoulders, but his response was nonchalant. “Just some Irish whore we found here,” his tone was sly with his following implication and it made her stomach curdle with disgust, “I have been having my fun with this one.” 

Her jaw steeled, another crack in her mask, and she could feel how she trembled from his words with a white fury that burned within. 

Uhtred paid her no mind, his focus remaining on Sigefried. “She seems irksome to you, but perhaps she would serve my wife better, to repay this debt owed,” a smirk played on his lips. “You claim bygones today and my family grows. The extra hands can be of better use than to play with your cock.” 

She burned, but she heard the dark chuckle of Sigefried. “She may frighten your children,” and he gestured to his jaw with cruel humor. 

“They have strong stomachs,” another voice spoke and her heart lifted with the familiar lilt of his diction. 

Keavy did not dare lift her eyes from the boots of the men that spoke of her like she was not present. Her chest tightened with her struggle to steady her breath and the silence rolled over them with a palpable tensity that stricken her bones. 

“Of course,” Siegfried began, his words were slow and heavy with venom. “As a gesture of goodwill.” 

For the second time in her life, she found her worth being bartered and then a large palm reached to grab her shoulder, shoving her forward. Keavy fell in front of them, catching herself on her hands and knees, and they burned from the impact. 

“Osferth,” and she looked up to see Uhtred watching her. “Take her to the docks and wait for us there.” 

“Yes, lord,” and a shadow stretched over her. She felt a hold that held no maliciousness, no ill intent, just the gentle touch that belonged to the man called Osferth. His slender fingers wrapped above her elbow and he helped her to her feet; she saw how he towered over her, how his eyes bore into her own.

His features, his jawline were sharp but she saw a kindness, a softness to the expression he held; it complemented his eyes, a color that reminded her of the spring days at Ebchester, when the sky was without a cloud to blemish the brilliant blue. 

Osferth began to pull her away from the crowd of men who now called for food and drink, and she followed him, her mind vibrating with the realization that she would soon be gone from this damned city. 

+ + + +

There was something almost akin with how the Irishman instructed his swordsmanship that reminded Osferth of the days he spent with his uncle, years ago. Finan was not as tall as him, but he was sturdy, with a surliness that peaked beneath his dark beard and his dark brow that furrowed above his scrutinous gaze; Leofric had a hardness that had been embedded into his demeanor and would edge into his timbre, whereas Finan’s lilt brought a comfort to his critiques. 

“You have a pretty solid foundation, but your stance is a bit lazy,” Finan chewed on some straw, reaching forward to correct his posture. “But if I was a betting man, I would guess you wouldn’t be killed right away.” 

They remained in Wessex for several days, indulging in the celebration with an insatiable want of women and ale. Sihtric remained knitted at the side of the same woman with auburn hair, while the rest were seated around a table, their cups overflowing and spilling into the wood as they crowed when they learned of Osferth and his virginity. 

He argued his time spent at the monastery hardly allowed women to flow through, but Finan would not hear of it. “There are things in life you must allow yourself, an almost right of passage for any man,” and it was the first time he noted a genuine grin beneath his beard. Finan grabbed the pitcher to refill his cup and Osferth took a grimaced sip, the taste bitter and burned down his throat. “Don’t worry, baby monk, you will learn to love it.” 

Uhtred offered insight about quality over quantity and Finan guffawed in his mug. He continued on about his wife, how when he saw her, he just knew. “With ale, you must accept whatever has been poured into your cup,” Uhtred swirled whatever liquor remained in his mug, “but a good woman is something you must be able to decipher and then cherish.” 

Osferth watched the hue of pink that washed over his cheeks, whether from his thoughts of his lady wife in Coccham or perhaps the ale. “How did you know, lord?” His naivety pressed.

Uhtred smiled at him, bringing his fist to thump against his chest. “It is in here, it is something that tells you.” 

Osferth remembered that moment when they were in the courtyard at Lunden, when he first saw her. 

They had left Wessex on horseback towards the shores of the Temes; Mercian lords had accompanied them and the boats were a reprieve from their ceaseless, loud complaints. They followed the river to the docks of Lunden that bustled with merchants, who seemed unaffected by the siege. 

They followed behind Clapa, who led a wide berth with his large steps as people parted to allow him to pass, and they pushed until they came to the courtyard, halted by the body crudely displayed upright on a cross. Their unease shuddered off when Finan spoke with certainty, “Tis’ a death, nothing more.”

Osferth found that the vulgar show of sacrilege vested a response instilled from his days at the monastery and he crossed himself, his dirty blonde locks spilling forward when he bowed his head for a quick, silent prayer for the dead man. 

The sun poured into the courtyard ahead and Danes were staggered around with a half-interest in the grotesque crucifixion demanded. The attention turned onto them and Osferth found himself fixated the moment he saw her, how still she stood in the Dane brothers’ shadows. 

There was a severity in her green eyes as she looked them over and they brightened with a familiarity, something that flickered across her pale features. She wet her pink lips before she dared speak out loud, claiming their attention as well as the backhand from the dark haired brother. Her knees buckled and she fell back, her lips now red with blood, her eyes burning. 

“Don’t do it, baby monk,” Finan growled, low, and he felt the touch of his hand to his stomach. Osferth realized his fists were clenched. “I see your eyes have not left her–let him handle it.”

Though the words did not ease his rigid stance, he remained rooted at the Irishman’s side, his eyes watchful. Osferth thought back of his last day at the monastery, the warm meal prepared for him and the comfort of the bed he had slept in for the prior eighteen years. The abbot had approached him to ask if he truly wished to leave this humble life behind and he had answered earnestly that he had to go. There was a pull from the echo of his uncle’s words that regaled Uhtred of Bebbanburg, how he was an honorable man, how he was a fair man, and this was what propelled his steps to leave this life behind. 

Destiny is all. 

And in the courtyard, he saw the personification of his uncle’s words with how Uhtred bartered with Sigefried to hand over this woman, with her eyes that burned. 

The Dane had shoved her forward and Osferth moved outside his volition towards her, breaking away from Finan and with the covered command from Uhtred to take her to the docks, a way to conceal his unprecedented action. Osferth helped her stand, pulling her away from the courtyard and the heathens that filled it. 

His steps were not hurried, but his long legs made for a long gait as he moved to exit the city, his hold on her hand keeping her in the wake of his steps as he pushed through the crowds. 

“Please, priest,” he heard her say and he peered over his shoulder, slowing his steps and watching her as she looked over the buildings they passed, her eyes almost frantic. “Please, before we leave, I must take what belongs to me.” 

Osferth stopped and turned to face her, his chin tilted down to look at her. He watched the rose coloring dust her fair cheeks and the tip of her nose, how the pink clashed with the scar that lined her cheek and jawline. His eyes returned to her own and he only said, “I am not a priest.” 

She blinked then tried to correct herself. “Forgive me, monk–”

“I am not a monk, nor a holy man any longer,” he interrupted, his brow knitting over his eyes. “I am simply Osferth,” he added and he felt a warmth that bloomed in his chest from how she peered up at him through her dark lashes; he admired the bright green of her eyes with a halo of gold that burned around her pupil with her stare. 

She watched him for a moment before she reached to take his hand, her palm dry and cool against his own. He allowed her to lead until she made a noise of recognition, moving down an alleyway until they came to where blood had clearly been split, with markings that burned dark against the stonewall. 

Without a word, she dropped to her knees, her fingers desperate to pull up the stones before he unsheathed his sword and offered its leverage. She finally unearthed a dark piece of fabric, almost black with the mixed stain of blood and soil that broke off in chunks as she unraveled to reveal a silver, detailed cross and a dagger. 

She first slipped on the necklace, tucking the pendant beneath her neckline, and then her fingers trembled with its hold as she tried to fasten the belt around her wait. There was a moment he wished to reach forward to help her, but instead he let his hand fall back to his side. 

When she finished, she turned to face him with her face flushed; he saw blood was smeared across her chin and she wiped her hands on her skirt, her dark curls limply falling to in front of her face. Osferth felt that warmth cradling his heart, but said nothing and offered his hand to her. He was pleased how she took it without  hesitation, how well it fit within his own, and they made their way towards the docks. 

Once outside the gates of Lunden, he felt he was able to take a deep breath, though the waste thrown on the shores were still rancid. “Wait here, lady,” he said, his tone low and kind, and he went to find a bucket of cleaner water and rags. 

When he returned, she only said, “I am no lady.” She dampened the cloth to wipe away some of the blood and dirt, her pearly complexion showing through the streaks. “You may call me Keavy.” 

He nodded, his eyes still watchful as she cleaned away the grime; his gaze trailed the scarring again, a deep blood red for the new skin. “Was he…” he began and he gestured to his jaw, “was he the one who did this to you?” 

“It was from before,” she answered and he saw how her hands fidgeted with the cloth. “Osferth,” she spoke his name slowly and he liked how it rolled with her Irish lilt, “have you been in service to Uhtred of Bebbanburg for a while?”

He shook his head, a small smile to his lips. “No, lady, only a few days now.”

“Just Keavy,” she corrected him with the slight tilt of her head and he burned from the tensity of her green eyes. “Do you think he has sound judgment? Is he a fair man?”  

He noted the trepidation of her voice and the concern that lined her question. “From what I have seen and learned about him, he is very just,” and he paused a moment before he added, “I will say that he is a man that respects honesty and will give it in return.” 

Her lips pursed in response and she nodded with the soft movement of her curls.

Osferth wished to reach forward and pinch a tendril between his fingers, to find his tongue and press for more, but instead he heard Uhtred call to them; they both looked to see him and the men in tow, making their way towards the docks. They split to their respective boats and Osferth stepped in, turning to take her hand and help her as she made her way forward to sit on the behind the stempost, where Uhtred now held onto. 

They rowed out with the collective grunts with each pull; Osferth felt the burn between his shoulder blades as they made their way against the flow of the Temes. A silence settled over the men until they seemed far enough from Lunden before Uhtred asked: “What is the debt owed to my wife?” 

Osferth looked up, watching how her shoulders wilted and then squared with her breath. “She saved my life, lord.”

Uhtred looked back at her with an amusement that played across his face. “How did my wife save you?” he clarified. 

“By allowing me to use her name to escape the Danes that held Lunden,” she admitted and then allowed a shaky exhale. “I knew her from when she stayed in Ebchester, until you came for her,” she added with one breath. 

“Ebchester?” Finan called from behind, his tone light. “Did you ever confess to Beocca that you killed a holy man?”

The men chortled and Osferth felt a sly smile of his own that widened when Keavy turned around to watch their response. Her relief was apparent and there was a glow with her smile, the dimples on the left side of her face exaggerated by her scarring.

She is lovely still, came the intrusive thought to his mind. 

“He is aware,” Uhtred called out over their laughter. “And he understands why it was warranted!” Their laughter swelled over their boat alone, while the Mercians followed silently in their wake as they made their way back to Wintanceaster.

previous | Chapter 3 | masterlist

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 6: The Second Flashback

@chachachai17 and I hope you enjoy chapters 6 and 7 tonight ❤️

5 years ago, age 21

Elain applied a thin coat of lipstick and fluffed her hair once, checking herself in the mirror a last time before heading downstairs. She felt pretty, and allowed herself to feel a sliver of excitement. As she reached the bottom of the staircase, Elain decided nothing could tarnish her mood. 

On the floor in the living area, Feyre was surrounded by tubes of paint and an untouched canvas. She glanced at Elain, shooting a wink her way. “Where are you going all dolled up?”

Elain blushed and nodded her thanks. “It’s Laverna’s twenty-first birthday. She’s having a party at her home in the Dawn Region. She invited me the last time I saw her at the ice rink. I wasn't going to go but,” Elain rubbed her arm sheepishly. “I figured I might enjoy myself. I don’t plan on being out very long, though.” 

“Who else is going?” Feyre asked, squirting paint onto a glass pallete. She’d chosen a variation of pinks and golds and purples. Brushes were spread widely around the floorboards. 

“Aspen from Winter and Zarah from Spring. They're both ice dancers. We’re not really friends, but we talk once in a while. I thought I could get out of the house and have some fun before the competition tomorrow.” 

“You thought wrong,” Mama said, slinking into the living area with a steaming cup of tea. She didn't spare a glance toward Elain as she sat down on the sofa and said, “The only thing you're doing tonight is going upstairs, taking all of your makeup off, putting on your skating attire, and heading over to the rink for one last practice.” 

Elain and Feyre shared a look. 

“Mama, I haven't really made friends since we moved here,” Elain pointed out gently, ringing her fingers together. “These girls are nice to me and I would like to get to know them better.” 

"You do not need friends,” Mama said, eyes flashing to her face before landing on the television. Mama never looked at Elain for more than a few seconds at a time. 

“I think Elain deserves to build her own connections,” Feyre advocated quietly, spreading gold paint on the canvas. 

“Distractions,” Mama corrected sharply, kicking off her slippers, curling her legs underneath her bottom. The sisters flinched. “Friendships are distractions, and the last thing your sister needs is to be preoccupied.”

“I’m fully prepared for the competition tomorrow,” Elain defended, though her voice had grown shaky. Feyre’s gaze was one of pity. 

“You can never be too prepared,” Mama spat back. “Just this week, you fell during a twizzle. A twizzle! And look at what your sister is doing right now. She’s spending her weekend perfecting her craft. You don’t see her out and about with any companions, do you?”

“That's because they were all busy tonight,” Feyre muttered under her breath, pressing the brush harder against the canvas. 

“And Nesta has been at the studio for nine hours today and she’s still not home,” Mama remarked, sipping from her mug. “That is dedication. Something you surely lack.” 

Elain’s tears dampened her mascara, black streaks running down her rosy cheeks. So much for spending hours on making herself look beautiful. 

“Mama, Elain is one of the most dedicated people I know,” Feyre complimented, smiling sadly at her older sister. Elain shook her head, a silent plea for Feyre to stay quiet. Nothing either of them said would change Mama’s mind. 

Mama huffed, shaking her head. “Then that’s truly a shame,” She glanced toward Elain once more, face void of warmth. “Call your friends and tell them you are not coming. The rink closes in two hours, so you’d best get a move on. And don’t you ever pull a stunt like this again or else you’ll skate until your toes bleed.” 

And when Elain had changed into her sweater and leggings and flung her skating bag over her shoulder, she hadn’t bothered saying goodbye. 

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: Here

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

[girlwithadragonheart]

Death's Chosen

Part 4

Halsin x OC: Aspen

Summary: Halsin comforts Aspen after her nightmare. Something goes horribly wrong with Aspen’s magic.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Lots of crying, Scratch is a Good Boy™, Halsin is so so comforting, Religious trauma

A/N: I finally did it!!!

Part 3 BG3 Masterlist Part 5

Scratch’s ears perked up, and he picked his head up where it rested on his paws. Surely that couldn’t be right. But then he heard it again. A shrill cry in the night. Not loud, but recognizable. Scratch stood quickly and whined, moving to his Master and nudging his cheek with his nose.

Halsin stirred, seeing the dog in distress. He sat up, “What is it, Scratch?”

“Listen,” the animal said, ears perked.

And Halsin did. And he caught the unmistakable cry in the night. The voice was familiar, the sniffles and sobbing drew him to his feet.

“You stay here,” Halsin commanded, and Scratch sat obediently.

His strides were long and he climbed up the tree with ease, finding the source of the crying. Aspen’s pod. He stepped lightly, making sure not to disturb the others with the shaking of ropes. Carefully, he parted the vines, taking a step inside the moonlit room.

The moonlight spilled through the vines as Halsin stepped into Aspen’s pod, his gaze softening at the sight before him. Aspen lay tangled in the sheets, clutching her chest with one hand, her body curled inward as if bracing against invisible pain. Quiet sobs shook her shoulders, and every now and then, a breath hitched, as though she were fighting to keep the despair at bay.

Halsin knelt beside her, gently brushing damp strands of her coral hair from her forehead. “Aspen,” he whispered. She didn’t respond, only tucked her chin deeper into her chest. His voice lowered to a soothing murmur. “You are safe. No harm will come to you here.”

Aspen trembled, but when she felt the warmth of his hand gently resting on hers, some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “It’s nothing,” she whispered, though the crack in her voice betrayed the weight she carried.

Halsin didn’t press her, sensing that her silence held more than words ever could. “I’ll make you some tea,” he said softly, as if it were the most natural response in the world. He moved with care so as not to disturb her any more than she was. “Come.” He held a hand out to her.

She looked up at him, teal eyes brighter with the tears she shed. She hesitantly took his hand, sniffling as she fought a fresh bout of tears back. He lightly squeezed her hand as she stood, pulling it back to her side once she was on her feet. He noticed she was back in his tunic that fell to her knees. It was endearingly large on her.

The two of them made their way back down to the Inner Sanctuary. Halsin led her to his chambers. They were more open than the pods, and he had a station for tea. It wasn’t infrequent that he had nights he couldn’t sleep well also.

Aspen took a seat on the edge of his bed, watching as he steeped various herbs, his back to her, though he glanced back every once in a while to check she was still there. Her tears gradually dried, and she sat sniffling, arms crossed over her chest protectively.

He joined her side shortly with a steaming mug of herbal tea---lavender and chamomile with a pinch of licorice root. “Here,” he murmured, sitting beside her on the bed and offering the mug. Aspen adjusted as his weight dipped the mattress, wrapping her hands around the warm cup, though she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Halsin leaned back on one hand, his presence steady. “You don’t have to carry everything alone,” he said gently, knowing she wouldn’t open up tonight---but hoping she’d remember his words when she was ready.

Aspen gave a small nod, sipping the tea. He wouldn’t like what she had to say when that time came. Her chest still ached, and her thoughts were heavy, but the warmth in the tea and Halsin’s calming presence dulled the sharp edges of her fear.

Eventually, her exhaustion overcame her, and she drifted off with Scratch curled at her side, his head resting protectively on her hip. Halsin watched until her breathing evened, then slipped out of the bed and made his way to one of the other cots. As he lay down, he exhaled softly. His mind lingered on the sorrow in her eyes. He would wait.

----------------------------

The next morning, Aspen found herself standing before the small herb planters Halsin had shown her. She hadn’t thought about how she woke up in his chambers, alone save for Scratch. Not that she had expected him to stay, more so surprised he had allowed her to stay. But she was learning that was just who he was. Or at the least, it was how he had behave thus far.

Kneeling down, she focused on the delicate herbs---lavender, lemon balm, and mint. Her fingers brushed over a sprig of lavender, willing it to grow stronger beneath her touch. She willed warmth through her, natural energy and sunlight.

Instead, the flower wilted beneath her touch, its petals curling and blackening as if scorched. Her magic felt cold and hollow.

Aspen’s breath hitched. Panic surged in her chest, but she clamped it down with practiced precision. Calm. Stay calm. She forced her hands to remain steady as she scooped a handful of soil and buried the withered plant beneath it, hiding the evidence.

Her mind raced, but she kept her movements slow and deliberate, like nothing unusual had happened. If Halsin saw the dead herbs, what would he think? Would he blame her? Or worse---send her away?

The next day, it happened again. Out in the forest, she bent to gather herbs for the tea and watched helplessly as the stems withered the moment her fingertips brushed them. She clenched her fists, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Please. Please no…

On the third day, Aspen’s path crossed with a small rabbit nibbling on a patch of clover near the riverbank. She crouched low, a bittersweet warmth spreading through her chest at the sight of the soft creature. Perhaps this was what she needed---a small reminder that nature hadn’t forsaken her completely. That Silvanus had not given up on her yet.

She held out a hand, whispering. “It’s alright, my little love, I won’t hurt you.”

The rabbit sniffed the air, its tiny nose twitching. It hopped closer, cautiously sniffing her outstretched fingers. For a fleeting moment, Aspen dared to hope, her breath caught in her chest---

Until the rabbit squealed, a sharp sound of terror that pierced the quiet morning. It bolted into the undergrowth, as if her touch had burned it.

She fell back, feeling the grass beneath her wilting and decaying. She stood, quickly scrambling away as her breaths came faster. Hot tears welled in her eyes and spilled over, her chest tightening with frustration and grief. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she whispered, her voice breaking under the weight of the admission.

--------------------------------------

Halsin noticed the distance growing between them. Aspen’s usual smiles were fewer, and she kept to herself more each day. When her avoidance became impossible to ignore, he approached her after breakfast.

“Come with me,” he said, his tone warm but firm. “We’ll patrol the forest together. The fresh air will do us both good.” As though all of the air surrounding them was anything but fresh.

This is it, Aspen though. This is the day he sends me away. Aspen hesitated, looking for a way to refuse, but something in Halsin’s gaze told her that he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. With a resigned sigh, she followed him into the woods.

The two of them walked side by side, the forest alive with birdsong and the rustling of leaves. Halsin spoke easily about the natural world, his voice carrying the wisdom and reverence of one who understood its rhythms intimately.

“As druids, we share a connection with the wild,” he said thoughtfully. “But leadership can make that bond… heavy.”

Aspen glanced sideways at him, sensing the personal weight behind his words. “Being First Druid can’t be easy,” she murmured.

Halsin gave a small nod. “It isn’t. But I’ve learned that the wild does not judge as people do. There is balance in all things---even in hardship.” He glanced at her meaningfully, his gaze inviting her to speak.

Aspen hesitated, biting her lip. She thought of the herbs wilting beneath her touch, the rabbit’s terrified shriek, and the weight of her past pressing on her chest. “I’ve always felt… out of place. Out of touch,” she admitted quietly. “Even among my old circle. And now, here…” She trailed off, her voice cracking.

Halsin slowed his steps, turning to face her. “You are not out of place here,” he said softly. “But I know the burden of feeling like you don’t belong.”

Her lips formed a thin line. She knew he meant well, but he had no idea how deep this hurt ran. Or how true it really was.

Before she could respond, a rustling caught their attention. A small rabbit emerged from the underbrush, pausing just a few feet away. Halsin crouched, his movements slow and non-threatening despite his size.

The rabbit sniffed cautiously, burrowing its head against his large palm. Halsin looked back and beckoned her to join him. She frowned, heart thudding in her chest.

Aspen knelt beside him, holding out her hand once more. The rabbit took a step toward her, but the moment its nose touched her fingers, it let out that same terrified shriek and bolted into the forest.

Aspen’s heart shattered. Hot tears welled in her eyes, and this time she didn’t bother stopping them. “Silvanus has forsaken me,” she cried, fists pushing into her eyes. “He’s given up after all this time.”

Halsin’s heart ached at the sight of her despair. He didn’t know what he had missed or not seen to make her come to that conclusion. “Whatever it is,” he murmured, “we’ll face it together.” 

For the first time in days, Aspen leaned into his touch, letting herself be held. The forest stood silent around them. Eerily so. But Halsin’s quiet strength felt like an anchor, keeping her from drifting too far into the darkness as she cried into his chest.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Omg this has been in the works forever and it's not even that much. Writer's block is a bitch frfr

Let me know if you want to be added to the Halsin tag list! <3

Tag List: @leiotyp

See my Non Writing OC Masterlist for screenshots and artwork of my characters and their ships!

[thornestar]

[inventors-fair]

Points in Order: Flavor-Modal Entries

@bergdg — Clearance Sale @bread-into-toast — Oba's Overreach @corporalotherbear — Alleyway Mugging @feyd-rautha-apologist — The First Empire @helloijustreadyourpost — Stitcher's Judgement @horsecrash — Wrong Way @i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Urza's Choice @izzet-always-r-versus-u — Time Uncertain @la-femme-de-stardust — Peacegranter @levelzeo — Beloved General @melancholia-ennui — Lovers' Tragedy @nine-effing-hells — Lance the Boils @partytimesdeluxe — Dream Snare @piccadilly-blue — Time Gentlemen, Please! @real-aspen-hours — Stroke of Inspiration @reaperfromtheabyss — Impassioned Guildseeker @sparkyyoungupstart — Monstrous Intervention @tanknspank — Auspicious Harvest @wildcardgamez — Rigged Game @xenobladexfan — Threat of Compleation @yourrightfulking — Gruul Diplomacy

Phew. Thank you all for your entries!

[inscrutable-shadow]

Augusnippets Day 21 - Path of Whumperless Whump - Delirium

for the doc lovers, except they're being 17 instead of horrifying (Aspen Weiss is their old name and Joni is their fraternal twin sister) i kinda did a weird thing with the prompt but hopefully it's ok i am eepy myself

Aspen knew they'd gone too far. Despite their efforts to ignore the fact, their body was, unfortunately, human, and there was a limit to the number of hours they could study without pausing for sleep. If they were honest, nutrition shakes and coffee weren't much of a substitute for sustenance either. Their hands were shaking around the mugful of stone-cold liquid between them.

How long had it been since they turned a page? The textbook in front of them was nothing but a blur, time and space seemed to flow around them like oil on the surface of water. Distorted sounds teased the edges of their hearing. If they didn't know better, they'd chalk it up to mania, they were no stranger to psychosis, but the sleep deprivation had induced a sort of delirium instead. The difference was something they ought to know if they were to become a doctor.

Yes. The exams. The exams they needed to pass in three days if they ever wanted to escape this seven-devilled facility. They didn't have time to study and to prepare their grand exit, so much needed to be done, and neither part could go forward without the other. Hence sleep was the first thing to be cut. Now they were realizing that had been an error in judgement.

"-spen? Aspen! Az, come on, are you in there?" Oh. So some of the sound had been real. Their eyes were slow to obey, blown pupils fixing on Joni like a drunkard's.

"Jävlar, what'd you take?"

"Nothing… clean. Promise." Oops. That had been a microsleep just then. Hopefully Joni hadn't seen it.

"Helvete. You're falling asleep standing up. You're going to bed. No complaints." That was fine, because they didn't have the energy to.

doc taglist: @i-eat-worlds , @quietly-by-myself, @demondamage, @atomiccorvid

[jerzwriter]

A Tall Order

✨ Ho-Ho-Ho! This year, I'm Secret Santa to the lovely @zealouscanonindeer! You were such an important part of the Choices Open Heart fandom this year, and I know I speak for many when I say that we're so grateful you're here! ✨

❄️I also want to thank @choicesfandomappreciation for hosting this and so many wonderful events throughout the year! You're one of the big reasons our little fandom continues to go strong! ❄️

✨I hope you enjoy this commission of Aspen, Ethan, and their new snow friend created by @weetlebeetle. Here's a little drabble to accompany it! ✨

❄️ Happy Holidays & Happy New Year!❄️

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC Characters: Aurora Emery, Jackie Varma, Sienna Trinh, Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen Words: 867 Summary: It's a snowy lunch break at Edenbrook.

The temperature may have been hovering just above freezing, but that wasn't enough to keep Aspen indoors this lunch break. Not the grounds surrounding Edenbrook were blanketed in beautiful, freshly fallen snow, just waiting to be enjoyed. If that didn't make her happy enough, she managed to wrangle a few friends and co-workers to join her, multiplying her joy.

As the group exited Edenbrook, they were astounded to see just how quiet the streets of Boston could be during a snowstorm, but the silence wouldn't last much longer... not with this crew entering the scene.

Sienna was the first to return to the days of childhood glory, tossing herself on the ground and flailing her arms and legs about.

"Ah! This is so cool!" she squealed as the others looked on.

"It looks downright cold to me," Aurora rebuffed.

"Hey, Trihn," Tobias jumped in. "Just makin' sure you're enjoying yourself, and this isn't some sort of a medical emergency."

Sienna jumped from the spot where she had been lying and gestured widely at her creation.

"It's a snow angel," she proclaimed. "Didn't you ever make a snow angel as a child?"

"Nope," he replied. "Never did. I guess what wasn't my thing."

"That may not have been, but I know what was!" Jackie yelled as a large snowball smacked Dr. Carrick on the side of the face.

"SNOWBALL FIGHT!" Aspen yelled, and it was every person for themselves as total chaos ensued.

Several minutes later, the cold and breathless crew was laughing like schoolchildren.

"I have to admit, this was fun!" Aurora announced. "But maybe we should start heading back in. There is a large mug of hot chocolate with my name on it."

"No!" Aspen hollered, turning all heads her way. "Not... not yet."

Tobias took a look around and noticed there was one doctor that Aspen hadn't been able to convince. Snow crunching under his feet, he walked over with a look of sympathy.

"Look, I know you love the guy... but even you can't make that curmudgeonly old man come out to play in the snow."

A look of determination crossed her face, and she smiled. "Lunch break isn't over... and besides, there is one more thing I want to do before we go inside... Ethan, or no Ethan."

Leaning over, she began rolling snow to form the base of what would become a very impressive snowman. Sienna, Jackie, and Aurora eagerly joined in to help when Tobias announced he'd go fetch warm beverages for all.

They were excited when they heard footsteps headed their way, but they were surprised to see another doctor headed their way. With a North Face jacket tossed over his scrubs, they couldn't tell if Ethan was amused or annoyed as he approached.

"You look cold," he deadpanned.

"What an observation!" Jackie mocked. "Now it's crystal clear how you graduated top of your class at Hopkins."

But, captivated by the way Aspen's eyes lit up when she saw him coming near, Ethan paid her no mind.

"Just in the nick of time!" She announced.

"For what?" He asked. "To drag you inside and stave off frostbite?"

"Probably that, too," she laughed, placing a large snowman's head in his hands with a thud.

"What's this?" he asked, leading Jackie to sigh with frustration.

"It's the head of a snowman! Jeez... Hopkins standards have really been going down, haven't they?"

"I know it's the head of a snowman," he defended. "I'm asking why Aspen gave it to me."

"Because you're tall enough to place it on his neck. I've sort of been struggling with that."

"Uhh, Aspen, aren't you supposed to put the head on and then decorate it."

"Sure, if you want to take the standard approach, but I'm anything but standard."

With a snort and a tender half-smile on his lips, Ethan was about to carry out the task, but not before being subjected to one more round of teasing.

"Well, look who made it outside," Tobias sneered, giving Aspen a wink. "That's some fairy dust you've got there, kid!"

Aspen gave a little bow behind Ethan. But Tobias wasn't done.

"What have you done to the snowman?" He continued. "Leave it to you to decapitate him."

"Decap.. decap... I'm not decapitating him. I'm putting the head on top."

Handing the paper coffee cups to the others, Tobias smirked wickedly. "As a testament to my personal growth, I will refrain from turning that statement into an inappropriate comment."

"OK, boys! Can we wrap this up and get back inside?" Jackie protested. "I can no longer feel my toes."

"Fine," Ethan said as he secured the snowman's head on top, to Aspen's delight.

Clapping her mittened hands together, she slipped under Ethan's arm and declared. "You're my hero!"

"Oh, I think I'm going to be sick," Jackie mumbled as Tobias clinked his cup against hers.

"I'll drink to that," he agreed.

"Hey! Did you get me one of those," Ethan asked, gesturing to the beverages.

"Nope. Thought you were still inside."

Beginning to shiver, Aspen decided inside was where they all should be, and in the same way, she got everyone outside, she began to shepherd them back to warmth.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 3

word count: 4.5k

Harry was fucked, to say the least. He locked his apartment door shut with a little more force than necessary, the familiar click echoing in the otherwise silent space. Slinging his keys onto the kitchen counter, they skidded across the surface and came to a halt near a half-empty coffee mug from this morning—well, yesterday morning now.

A deep sigh pushed its way from his chest, long and ragged, as if releasing the weight of the night. He ruffled his wild curls with both hands, shaking his head as if that might somehow untangle the web of thoughts twisting around his brain. The alcohol had to be the culprit. There was no other explanation. No way in hell he'd laugh, smile, or even entertain the idea of being remotely interested in someone—especially someone like her.

"Bloody ridiculous," he muttered under his breath, barely noticing the small, darting shadow until it was too late.

"Jasper! Shit," Harry hissed as his bare foot caught the tail end of his cat, who meowed indignantly and darted off to his cat tree like a streak of gray lightning. The cat perched itself on the top level, blinking down at him with what could only be described as judgmental disapproval.

"Yeah, yeah. My bad," Harry mumbled, dragging a hand down his face as he trudged toward the hallway.

His boots thudded heavily against the hardwood floor as he toed them off in front of his bedroom door. They landed haphazardly, but he didn't bother fixing them. He slid open the wooden drawer of his dresser with a faint creak, rifling through the neatly folded clothes until he grabbed a pair of sweatpants. He slung a clean pair of boxers from the messier corner of the drawer before shuffling into the bathroom, the cool tile against his feet making him shiver.

The idea of showering sounded exhausting, but he needed a reset. A chance to wash away the night—the faint smell of alcohol lingering on his skin, the buzz of conversations, the muffled beat of music—and maybe, just maybe, the lingering memories of her.

He turned the knob, letting the water heat up as he leaned against the sink, staring into the mirror. His reflection stared back, wet curls sticking to his forehead, jaw tight, eyes shadowed with something he couldn't quite name. Frustration? Confusion?

"Get a grip, mate," he muttered, bracing his hands against the edge of the sink.

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, her face kept resurfacing. The way she smiled nervously, the faint blush creeping up her neck when he teased her, the way her fingers fiddled with her water bottle. It wasn't just the alcohol. He knew that now.

The water had turned hot enough to steam the mirror by the time he stepped in, letting the warmth cascade over him. He scrubbed at his skin with a vigor that bordered on aggression, as if he could physically remove her from his thoughts.

When he finally climbed into bed, hair damp and sweatpants hanging low on his hips, Jasper was already curled at the foot of the mattress. Harry shifted under the blankets with a groan, his rings clinking softly in the tray on the nightstand. He flexed his fingers, feeling oddly bare without them, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the way his thoughts circled like vultures over the memory of Aspen.

"Go to sleep," he muttered to himself, his voice muffled by the pillow.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Aspen's eyes fluttered open to the distant roar of a lawnmower, the sound growing louder as if it were parked just outside her bedroom window. She groaned softly, one hand reaching out to fumble for the window, which she managed to shove closed with a loud thunk.

For a moment, she lay there, eyes shut, body cocooned in the warmth of her bed. But the buzzing in her ears wouldn't relent, and her mind was already awake, humming with an energy she couldn't ignore.

Resigned, she rolled over, her hand blindly patting under her pillow until it connected with the cool edge of her phone. She squinted at the screen, her eyes adjusting to the light as she scrolled through notifications.

Among the usual clutter of messages and app updates, one stood out:

Robin Grant posted a new announcement! EIA 013 089724.

Her lips pressed together as she opened the message.

Robin Grant: All final portfolios have been graded. Sorry for the wait...

Aspen skimmed the rest, her eyes catching on the part about feedback. Her nose scrunched but she couldn't help but be slightly excited. She had been waiting for over two and a half weeks for her grade on the portfolio for her ethics class. She put in a lot of hard work, probably the most she had that semester. Knowing she didn't have much of a schedule today besides clean up her place a little bit and make lunch, she decided today would be a good day to grab her portfolio. Then the semester would really be over!

It took Aspen a good ten minutes to drag herself out of bed with enough motivation to freshen up. She rolled out of bed with a groan, dragging herself into the bathroom. Her routine was quick but thorough. She yawned at herself a couple of times through the process of washing her face, brushing her teeth, and changing. She decided to throw her hair into a ponytail but pulled her front pieces out. The girl decided on a pink GAP Wicked hoodie and a pair of black flared leggings, deciding to go simple with her Ugg slip ons.

She slung her tote bag over her shoulder, deciding to do some reading at the local library before she clocked in after she grabbed her folder. She didn't need to drive, and Aspen was more than grateful everything was not just within walking distance, but a nice sight and was overall safe and comforting. Aspen applied a thin coat of the pink lipgloss to her lips before tossing it in her bag as she went to go text Isobel. However, the girl noticed a voicemail Isobel left at 3:47 AM. Aspen pressed play once her headphones connected through the jack and she popped them into her ears.

"Heyyyyy, Asp," Isobel's voice slurred, followed by laughter and the faint murmur of Zayn in the background. "I am so drunk, oh my god—Zayn!"

Aspen cracked a smile as she locked the apartment door behind her, continuing on with her path and listening. She could hear the muffled sound of a slightly more sober Zayn in the background who was telling Isobel to relax. Laughing broke out on the other end of the phone followed by more muffling before she heard Zayns voice speak up.

Aspen chuckled softly, shaking her head as she made her way down the quiet street.

Zayn's voice broke through the muffled sounds. "We just wanted to say we hope you made it home safe! Night, Aspen!"

Aspen smiled as the voicemail ended, her fingers typing out a quick reply.

Aspen: you're so silly. i made it home, thank you. & nice voicemail lol! xx

Aspen knew it was far too early for Isobel to be awake, and even if she was, her headache would prohibit her from opening an electronic for the next five hours of her awakening. Her shift started at 12 PM, and according to the time on her phone, it was barely eleven as she left campus. The library was only a ten minute walk away and that would leave her with approximately forty minutes to read (taking into account the 'people traffic'.) The girls feet padded along the clean sidewalks, her eyes dancing over the different shoppes of the town.

She was halfway to the library when she saw him.

The tattoo shop caught her eye first—Black Rose, its sign swinging gently in the breeze. She'd never noticed it before, even though she must have walked past it a dozen times. Huh, she thought. She somehow never knew the close proximity of where Zayn worked, let alone Harry. And then there he was, stepping out of the shop, a stack of papers tucked under his arm.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Yep, got it." Harry muttered to Niall on the phone as he made his way through the tattoo shop. It was empty, as they were typically closed on the weekends. He had only come in to turn in those pesky papers today, knowing he wouldn't have time to on Monday and Zayn nor Niall would not touch them with a ten foot pole. 

He flicked the last light off before he clicked the red button to end the call so he would lock up the parlor. As he stuffed the keys into his back pocket, he looked up and down the street. That's when his eyes locked with Aspens. 

Her smile came unbidden, soft and warm, as their eyes met. She raised a hand to wave— just a small, polite gesture— but before she could complete it, he turned away.

It wasn't abrupt, but it wasn't natural either. It was as though he hadn't seen her at all, even though the eye contact had been unmistakable.

Her hand dropped awkwardly, her smile fading as she continued on her way. But her thoughts lingered, circling back to that fleeting moment. Had she done something wrong?

He froze slightly, nothing on his face hinting that he technically saw her; but the eye contact was a dead giveaway. He turned on his heel and tucked the papers under his arm, walking in the opposite direction to his car. He muttered something to himself along the way. 

Harry was not himself last night, he was sure. He was almost too nice. That was not something he was fond of her or anyone knowing. Especially her. Stuck up, four point zero grade point average. His eyes rolled at the thought. And when he got into his car, the slam was more than a little extra and could definitely had been heard by Aspen if she was still there.

Aspen was quick to collect herself. She convinced herself that he might have just not seen her in the rush he was in. Her hand squeezed around the straps of her tote-bag in a fidgeting manner as she continued her walk to the library for her shift.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The bell to the library rang.

"See you tomorrow, Marion!" Aspen chirped and waved before the door rang shut behind her. She clocked out at six pm and pulled her phone from her pocket to shoot a text to Isobel.

Aspen: hey iz!

Izz 🐝: Whats up Asp !!!

Aspen: whats for dinner? should i grab takeout?

Izz 🐝: Nah, zayn dropped us off some food rn 

Another text chimed.

Izz 🐝: Chinese! oh and Harold is here lol

Aspen looked up from her phone to look left, then right, then left again before crossing the street to get on the path quickest back to the apartments. She was starving. When she read Isobel's message, she couldn't help but think about Harry. Maybe she would ask him what was up, but that would only happen if she could muster up the courage to recover from the embarrassing moments hours ago that she still cringed at when she thought of it.

Aspen: sounds yum! ill be home soon im on beatrice ave

The girl decided to simply ignore the text from Isobel about the green eyed man, but she mentally groaned knowing Isobel would only bring it up again once they were alone. The thing about Iz was that no matter how drunk she got, she never forgot a single thing. So, of course, when she had acknowledged Harry before slipping into the crowd, the blonde haired woman made a mental note to pesk Aspen about it the following day.

The townhouse soon came into view as one of her favorite songs came to an end in her headphones. She had them out and wrapped the white cord around her phone to tuck it into her pocket when she saw the familiar black sleek car-- Harry's. The red lights blared to their full extent in the dark night, letting her know it was still on. The exhaust pumped out smoke as the car rumbled slightly. 

There was really no way to get to the front door of the townhouse without passing Harrys car one way or another. So, she mustered up the strength to take those fifteen steps and set foot. About five steps in was when she decided to turn towards Harrys car. In his side mirror, she saw the familiar curls of his hair tilted down, probably looking at his phone while he waited for Zayn. Her feet carried her to the passenger window that was rolled down and just as she passed, she turned to face him. 

"Hey," She quipped, which didn't get the mans attention. So, she tried again, a little more kick in her soft voice followed by a small tap to the door. He looked up.

"Uh, who are you?" The thick accent carried out while his slim fingers pushed his sunglasses up onto his head. It was six pm, she thought, but didn't say anything to Harry about it. His question took her aback. There was no way he could have been that intoxicated to forget who she was.

Aspen's smile faltered, her fingers hesitating mid-air where they'd lightly tapped the door. She blinked at him, unsure if he was joking or serious. Judging by the cold, impassive look on his face, it was definitely the latter.

"It's Aspen," she said softly, her voice just loud enough to carry through the window. "We met last night? You gave me a ride home?"

Harry's green eyes narrowed slightly, scanning her face like he was trying to place her, though something in the flicker of recognition betrayed him. He knew who she was, of course he did, but he wasn't about to make this easy.

"Oh, right," he said curtly, his tone clipped as he leaned back against his seat. "Didn't recognize you for a second. Not exactly a face I'd remember" His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, the casual movement at odds with the sudden tension in the air. "What's up?"

Aspen's lips parted, but no sound came out. She hadn't really thought this far ahead. What was she doing? She'd just wanted to say hi— wanted to acknowledge him after the strange way he'd walked off earlier. But now, standing here under the weight of his icy stare, she felt her cheeks grow warm, her resolve crumbling.

"I, uh..." she trailed off, clutching the strap of her tote bag like it might anchor her to the spot. "I just wanted to say hi. That's all."

Harry tilted his head, his expression unreadable, though his eyes carried a sharpness that made her feel small. "Hi," he said flatly, as if the word itself was a chore to get out.

There was a beat of silence, the awkwardness stretching between them like a taut string.

Aspen shifted on her feet, her stomach churning with a mix of nerves and embarrassment. She'd known approaching him was a risk—Harry didn't exactly give off the vibe of someone who welcomed small talk—but she hadn't expected him to be this dismissive.

"Okay," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Well, I'll let you get back to... whatever you're doing." She motioned vaguely at his phone, her eyes darting away from his piercing gaze.

Harry didn't respond right away. He watched her for a moment, his jaw tightening as an internal battle waged within him. Every instinct he had screamed at him to keep his distance, to push her away now before she got too close. But there was also a pang of guilt—small but persistent—at the hurt flickering across her face.

This is for the best, he told himself firmly. He couldn't afford to let someone like her get involved with someone like him. Aspen seemed... nice. Sweet, even. And he couldn't risk her peeling back the layers of who he really was.

"You should probably stick to your friends next time," he said finally, his voice cool but with an edge of something unspoken. "People like me? We're not exactly the 'friendly neighbor' type."

Aspen's breath hitched, his words slicing through her chest like a cold blade. Her hands gripped her tote strap tighter as she fought to keep her composure. She knew she wasn't the most confident person—knew she had a tendency to second-guess herself in social situations—but this? This was brutal.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Right," she said quietly, the word trembling slightly as she nodded. "Got it."

Without waiting for a response, Aspen turned on her heel and walked briskly toward the townhouse. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of humiliation and frustration bubbling inside her. Why had she even bothered?

Behind her, Harry watched her retreating figure, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. He told himself he was doing the right thing—keeping her at arm's length was for her own good. But the tightness in his chest said otherwise.

As Aspen reached the door and fumbled with her keys, she stole one last glance over her shoulder. Harry was back on his phone, his sunglasses sliding down to shield his eyes once more. It was as if she hadn't even been there.

Aspen stepped inside and closed the door firmly behind her, leaning against it as she tried to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She felt foolish, vulnerable.

And Harry? Harry sat in his car, staring blankly at the screen of his phone, unable to shake the image of the way her eyes had looked just before she walked away. 

Aspen couldn't help the heavy weight on her shoulders that rose and fell with a shaky sigh, a new heat complimenting her face. Not a face he'd remember? She tried her best to shake the feeling as the elevator took her up to the third story, dinging as it opened and she turned left down the hall to find the shared apartment with Isobel. Just as she was about to open the door, the wood frame flung open and Zayn was about to take a step out.

"Aspen," Zayn greeted, his brows raising in mild surprise as he stepped back slightly to avoid bumping into her. "Didn't think you'd be back this early, but I brought you both some takeout."

Aspen tried to force a smile, but it faltered. "Yeah, just... my shift ended at six, and thank you." She kept her voice light, but the tightness in her chest made it hard to sound convincing.

Zayn tilted his head, his sharp eyes scanning her face. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Aspen replied quickly, brushing past him into the apartment. She was grateful for the familiar warmth of the space, the faint scent of lavender from the diffuser Isobel loved so much, and the cluttered comfort of her best friend's things scattered across the shared living area.

Zayn didn't move, lingering in the doorway with a slight frown. "You sure? You look kinda..." He gestured vaguely toward her, his expression softening. "Off."

Aspen hesitated, the lump in her throat making it hard to respond. She didn't want to drag Zayn into her feelings, especially since he was likely on his way to see Harry. But before she could brush him off again, Isobel's voice rang out from her bedroom.

"Zayn! Did you grab my charger from the car?"

Zayn sighed and glanced down the hall before turning back to Aspen. "We'll talk later, yeah? If you need to." He offered her a small, encouraging smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him. Zayn and Aspen weren't fairly close, so it was foreign for him to offer an ear. But regardless, she was appreciative.

Aspen let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, her shoulders slumping as she made her way to the couch. She dropped her tote bag onto the floor and sank into the cushions, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of her.

Her mind replayed the encounter with Harry on an endless loop. His dismissive tone, the way he acted like she was a stranger— like she didn't matter. She wanted to convince herself it was just her overthinking things, that maybe she'd caught him at a bad time, but the sting of his words refused to fade.

"Hey, babe, did you—oh!" Isobel appeared in the hallway, her brows lifting in surprise. "Asp! I didn't hear you come in!"

"Just got back," Aspen said, her voice quieter than usual. The Uggs were slid off by the coffee table along with her bag and she sat criss cross on the sofa, a takeout box cradled in her lap as she opened the chopsticks wrapper.

Isobel frowned as she approached, plopping down beside her on the couch. "What's wrong? You look like someone just told you your favorite bookstore closed down or something."

Aspen managed a weak laugh at that, shaking her head. "It's nothing. I just... ran into Harry on my way in."

Isobel's eyes lit up in interest. "Oh, yeah? How'd that go?"

Aspen hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. "Not great. He, uh, pretended he didn't even know who I was." She avoided eye contact with Isobel, just a habit she never shook from when she was a kid.

"What?" Isobel's face twisted in disbelief. "Are you serious? He gave you a ride home last night!"

"Yeah, well..." Aspen shrugged, trying to downplay how much it hurt. "Guess I'm not memorable."

Isobel scoffed, crossing her arms. "That's bullshit. Harry's just... ugh, I don't even know. Moody? Difficult? Zayn's always talking about how he keeps to himself and doesn't let anyone in. It's not you, I promise."

Aspen gave her a small smile, appreciating the reassurance even if it didn't fully ease the ache in her chest. "Thanks, Iz." The wooden chopsticks twirled in the chow mein, but Aspen didn't have the desire to eat. But she didn't want to waste food despite her new found lack of appetite. She brought a few strands into her mouth.

"You want me to say something to Zayn?" Isobel offered, leaning forward with a determined look. "Because I will. No one gets to treat my best friend like that."

"No, it's fine," Aspen said quickly, shaking her head. "I don't want to make a big deal out of it. It's not like Harry and I are friends or anything."

Isobel frowned but didn't push further, instead reaching over to give Aspen's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I'm always down to stir the pot."

Aspen laughed softly at that, some of the tension in her chest easing. "I'll keep that in mind."

As the two settled into an easy silence, Aspen tried to push the encounter from her mind. But no matter how hard she tried, the weight of Harry's coldness lingered, a small knot in her chest that refused to untangle. The girl did her best to focus on the show Isobel put on and tried her best to fill her hunger, knowing that she would be starving into the night if she didn't fill her faux appetite.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Zayn slipped into Harry's car, tossing the charger onto the dashboard. "You're in a mood," he commented, noting the way Harry gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly.

"I'm fine," Harry muttered, his jaw clenched.

Zayn raised a brow. "That's convincing."

Harry shot him a look before starting the car. "Can we not do this right now?"

Zayn held up his hands in mock surrender, though his curiosity was clearly piqued. "Fine. But whatever's got you all twisted? You should deal with it before it gets worse."

Harry didn't respond, his eyes focused on the road ahead. But Zayn's words stayed with him, echoing in his mind as he tried—and failed—to shake the memory of Aspen's hurt expression.

Zayn slid into the passenger seat of Harry's car with a casual ease, tossing the charger onto the dashboard with a soft thud. His sharp eyes immediately caught the tension radiating from Harry, who sat rigidly in the driver's seat, fingers clamped tightly around the steering wheel. Harry's jaw was set, the muscle ticking, and the faintest crease had formed between his brows.

"You're in a mood," Zayn remarked, his voice cutting through the silence. It wasn't an accusation—more of an observation, though his tone held a teasing edge.

Harry's eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, his grip on the wheel tightening just slightly. "I'm fine," he snapped, the words curt and clipped, though his clenched jaw betrayed the effort it took to keep them civil.

Zayn tilted his head, not convinced for a second. "Right. That's convincing," he quipped, leaning back against the seat and studying his friend with a knowing look.

Harry's head whipped to the side, his green eyes narrowing as they locked on Zayn. "Can we not do this right now?" His voice was sharper this time, the irritation clear. He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life, a sound that seemed to punctuate his growing frustration.

Zayn raised his hands in mock surrender, though his lips twitched with the faintest hint of amusement. "Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off, mate." He leaned his elbow against the window, watching Harry closely as the car pulled out onto the road.

For a moment, silence fell between them, save for the hum of the engine and the soft rhythm of tires against pavement. Zayn let it linger, his curiosity bubbling under the surface. Harry's bad moods weren't exactly rare, but this one felt... different.

"You know," Zayn started again, his tone more measured this time, "whatever's got you all twisted? You should probably deal with it before it gets worse."

Harry's knuckles whitened on the wheel, his lips pressing into a thin line as his jaw tensed further. His eyes stayed locked on the road ahead, refusing to meet Zayn's gaze.

"Jesus, Zayn," he snapped, his voice low but laced with irritation. "Can you drop it for five bloody minutes? Not everything needs to be a conversation."

Zayn arched a brow, but he didn't respond, deciding it was wiser to let Harry stew in his own frustration for a bit. Still, he couldn't help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth—he'd seen Harry like this before, though rarely. Whatever had him in such a foul mood had to be important.

Meanwhile, Harry's mind was a storm of thoughts, each one circling back to Aspen despite his best efforts to shove them away. He replayed the look on her face when he'd dismissed her, the flicker of hurt that she'd tried— unsuccessfully— to hide. It gnawed at him, a sharp pang of guilt he didn't want to acknowledge.

This was why he needed to keep his distance, he reminded himself. He couldn't afford to let anyone in, especially not someone like her. She was soft, kind, the sort of person who would inevitably get hurt if she got too close. And Harry didn't do close.

But Zayn's words lingered, threading through his thoughts like an unwelcome guest. You should probably deal with it before it gets worse.

Harry's grip tightened on the wheel again, and he let out a low, frustrated breath. "For the record," he muttered, his tone dark and curt, "there's nothing to deal with."

Zayn didn't respond immediately, but his silence carried a weight that felt almost like a challenge. Harry refused to meet his gaze, his eyes fixed stubbornly on the road as he tried— and failed— to shake the memory of Aspen's soft voice, her hesitant smile, and the way it had all crumbled under the weight of his coldness.

[pixie-in-trebleland]

The Spellsmere Circus Thoughts

Are we brainrotting more? Yes! This is just a masterlist that will compile all of my little itty bitty details for the Spellsmere crew. A solid 90% of this applies to both their OG story and the D&D Campaign for the Rizz, since I'm humming and hawing having them just...be the same.

Aspen

By the gods, where do we start with Aspen. My lovely little sunshine incarnate...Well, she's originally from Barovia, one of the oldest Domains of Dread out in the Shadowfell. If we really want to be specific, she's from Vallaki, which was a fortified settlement in Barovia. She isn't overly open about where she's from, but if you get to know her and earn

She loves toys. There was a toy shop in Vallaki, Blinsky Toys, that she recalls fondly walking past growing up. Even when she was thrown out onto the streets, she would set up to rest in front of the toy shop to make sure that she wasn't alone. Gadof Blinsky, the owner of the toy shop, took her in for a little while and had her aid in dressing the dolls that sat in the front window.

Aspen's parents were a part of the Thaani, migrants from Bluetspur that were experimented on by mindflayers. She's not overly open about this out of fear of being chased out.

At the point where the Rizz meets her, Aspen is around 22 years of age.

She is a human/tiefling mix. She appears mostly human, except for sharp teeth, eyes, and tail.

She's always been very energetic and upbeat, but she's definitely learned a lot of her chipperness and positivity from her upbringing in Vallaki. The burgomaster in Vallaki mandated that there was a weekly festival to keep spirits up, so it's no surprise that she's...the way she is.

After her time with Gadof, Aspen ended up in a brothel in the settlement and...worked there for a good chunk of time. While she was a minor, she did work as a barmaid and was responsible for rushing plates and mugs to patrons. The matron was good to her but the patrons were a different case altogether.

Aspen is extremely loving in her gestures, but she is not physically affectionate for a majority of people. She'll do acts of kindness and gifts as her main love languages, but if she lets you touch her, then you're in her golden circle of trust.

Aspen is...naive. She's tried to see the good in the world to the full extent, and does tend to be blind to the damage around her. She's adopted the Burgomaster's way of life, in a way.

The Spellsmere Circus, however, is her family and no one can change her mind. Ciceran had been putting on a show for the dread lord and had met her at quite the opportune moment. They were careful to watch her, seeing if she needed the help or if she was going to be a prime candidate.

With having joined the Spellsmere, Aspen is one of the few who is not in a mirror, and never has been. She thoroughly enjoys the circus.

She sees people like Salem, Toby and Mikko as siblings (even referring to them as such), and Cici, Hjaitr, and Dita as parental/guardian figures. Chase is in a league of his own.

Aspen is not a mainstage performer. She can perform if needed (like she was needed for the Midnight Soirée), but she prefers her little shows along Artists' Alley.

Aspen's main act is contortion, but she can manipulate water with little spells that she's picked up here and there.

She loves bubbles. She firmly believes they're a blessing from the gods.

She used to be afraid of fire until she met Mikko.

Her shoulders are badly scarred from her past. She doesn't hide them, though.

She loves to climb and be thrown about. She's so full of energy that she just has to do something! Anything!

She has four tressyms that protect her tent. Three are hers and have been since she arrived at the Spellsmere (They were a welcome home gift from Ciceran), and the last one was one her and Chase adopted together.

She is a pacifist.

Chase

Chase, our beloved little meow meow, is the newest addition to the Spellsmere family outside of the Rizz members that have fallen...well, into the charm of the place. Note: he is not originally my character, and does belong to @crimsonpups (Thank you, lovely, for allowing me to use him in this beautiful little setting.) The details for this setting are what I've used to adapt him and give him my little flare, but his mannerisms and physical appearance are all crimson's design.

Chase is a painter! A lovely one at that. His nerves get the better of him at times, and his strokes can be shaky, but he's responsible for a majority of the posters and art work around the Spellsmere Circus.

Chase is a recluse. Prior to arriving at the circus, he lived in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate and did not leave his manor. He had a fully prepped staff that did his errands and whatnot for him.

It was love at first sight when he met Aspen. The two connected instantly, and they were wed about two years after he first came through.

Chase is extremely observant. Very, very observant. It's his eye for detail that helps him with his craft, but it also means that he's very aware of the going ons within the Circus Walls. He's just more keen to keep it between him and Aspen rather than share it with everyone else.

Mikko scares the shit out of him. If he sees the man coming, he'll head in the entirely opposite direction.

He's bonded with Salem and Tobias extremely easily. The three of them can be seen eating breakfast together a little earlier than some of the others.

Their proposal was absolutely adorable! He proposed to Aspen as the sun rose on a winter morning. It was just as the snow began to fall, and he knew it was the perfect opportunity. Toby officiated! It was adorable. They did a hand binding ceremony, in honour of Aspen's heritage.

He is a pacifist.