#the one who finds that special ornament will have good luck for the rest of the month till new years....

[gomzdrawfr]

THANK YOU FOR THE TAGS ON MY FIC GOMZ (also I hit unfollow while trying to click on your ask box so don't worry about it SHVMSVH)

Anyway Christmas CoD headcanon:

I think Ghost doesn't do anything for christmas because his family situation is hmmmmm you know, something, but on the other hand, you've got Johnny who is just extremely excited about christmas, like that's his thing, he's wearing ugly sweaters the entirety of december, watching dumb christmas movies in his bedroom to fall asleep to, organizes the 141 secret santa, all of it.

Ghost is rolling his eyes at most of it and teases the shit out of Soap but in the end, he enjoys seeing him happy and busy.

Gaz likes Christmas, although not as much as Johnny boy over there. He does enjoy finding the most horrendous ugly sweaters known to man, but not for him, nooooo. He gifts the worst ones to Price, Ghost and Kate, with a shit eating grin on his face while he watches their faces go through all the stages of grief looking at the sweater's designs. They have to wear it now, it's a gift after all :3c

Price usually goes back to his family when it's Christmas time but sometimes it's just him and Nik and the two have a nice dinner in some overpriced restaurant. Price likes the idea of the holiday but he still feels strange around that time, like he doesn't belong there. He's so used to facing the worst the world has to offer that seeing the streets covering in lights and people busying themselves buying presents and everyone cheering just feels odd to him. Nik knows that and there might have been a year when he kidnapped John to a secluded chalet somewhere on a snowy mountain so the two could celebrate privately in front of a fire with a nice bottle of champagne while watching the snow fall outside.

((OFC I LOVE THAT FIC!!! I actually sent a similar idea to Rawr KJHFLKGSFHGDFALKH i just love the idea of warming up another person also if anyone haven't alr GO READ IT HERE! ALSO ON AO3!!!))

auuwgrjh I love this so much...I had a similar train of thought except Gaz and Soap are exchanged (I just feel like Soap can get crafty enough and bring out the most HORRENDOUS sweater ever and giving a big smile while he's handing it to them either because he's actually proud of what he found or he's being a lil shit, either way they can't turn it down cuz like you said, it's a gift)

Price there...UWEGH....the internalized rejection of wanting something warm....*sHAKES YOU* I think Nik would properly lavish him with gifts too...<333 thank you sm for this

[dlife]

Crockery Shelf Interior Design Concepts to Transform Your Home

Have you been looking for creative crockery shelf interior design ideas to transform your home? Whether you’re a fan of contemporary or classic styles, we have some great suggestions that will give your space a unique and inviting feel. From custom-made cabinetry to stylish shelving units, these creative concepts will make your dining room or kitchen look amazing! So, let’s explore some of the best ideas to enhance your home with creative crockery shelf interior design.

One way to give your custom-made kitchen a modern and stylish look is to install cabinetry. This type of crockery shelf design can be tailored to fit any space, allowing you to make the most of even the smallest area. You can choose from a variety of colors and finishes, such as painted wood or glass fronts, for a truly unique touch. For an even more creative option, consider incorporating accent pieces like colored tiles or decorative hardware into your cabinetry design.

If you’re looking for something that’s slightly less traditional but still offers plenty of storage options, then free-standing shelving is the perfect solution. You can find these in all sorts of shapes and sizes so you can have a great idea for a contemporary look is to create a custom-built cabinet that stretches across one entire wall in your dining room or kitchen. Include several drawers and plenty of shelves, so you can store all of your dishes and other kitchen items neatly away. Add extra shelving along the top if necessary, creating an attractive display area for extra glassware and special items. Make sure to choose materials that match the rest of your décor, such as wood or metal, for a uniform look.

If you’re looking for something more traditional, consider opting for built-in cabinetry with decorative glass. The glass panels will reflect light, making the area appear more spacious and open. Choose colors that complement the existing décor in your home for a cohesive feel. Then, you can add ornamental pieces like mirrors or artwork to the shelves for an extra special touch.

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Bonus Idea

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No matter what type of crockery shelf interior design ideas you choose, you’re sure to end up with something beautiful that will completely transform your space! Just remember that whatever style or concept you select should reflect who you are and enhance the existing atmosphere in your home. Good luck with finding the perfect design for your home!

[hana-akari]

Sakura looked up at him, eyes full of amazement and wonder as he explained the meaning of the butterflies and his silver jewelry. Her fingers traced the detail of the butterfly shaped ornament in her hair. It was so detailed, and no doubt breathtaking looking. She has not seen her reflection since dying,

“I… I feel so honored you would gift me with something so precious.��

She really didn’t understand why he would, Sakura didn’t feel all that special to be wearing something with such deep meaning but she did feel happy he did view her worthy of it. Even if she didn’t,

“My… My family is said to be born from the scales of a great dragon god. Born into the world to be protectors, and symbols of good luck. My father used to tell me that that's how I was born with pink hair and unnatural strength. When I was alive, I was strong enough to punch a hole straight through a mountain if I wanted to but now… I feel so weak.” It was then she realized that she had lost the cherry blossom necklace her father had given her when she died. Sakura’s hand was placed over the spot it used to hang, wondering what happened to it. It was probably burnt up with the rest of her body and turned into the silver bracelet she now wore. It made her a bit sad to know it was gone,

“I suppose that sort of legend sounds completely silly to you, as the Ghost King.” She softly laughed, “My family also hails for China. Well, half of it anyway. On my mother’s side.” It seems they had something small in common. 

When Hue Cheng let out a burst of laughter, it brought a smile to her face. Her pretty green eyes seemed to sparkle a bit. Sakura found herself enjoying the sound of his laughter. It relaxed her, and filled her chest with warmth. It made her wish to make him laugh more. To help heal his heart, no matter how long it took, “I would, yes. Even if it’s something so small, I will miss eating. Mostly sweets, I was always weak to sweets.” She admitted with a small blush trying both the wine and the tea. Really she was trying a little of everything to savor things before she couldn’t anymore. She assumed after a while food, and drink will just taste bland and pointless to her but it seemed like he could still enjoy tea.

“A Dryad? Like the people from myths? They’re actually real?” Sakura’s eyes widened. She remembered reading all about forest dwellers as a small child. Wanting badly to believe such people existed. She once nearly got lost in the woods trying to find one, “She was as pretty as I thought one would be…” She softly wondered if someone would ever think she was that pretty, “Doesn’t she work for you? Shouldn’t you know about those who work for you?” Come to think of it, she seemed to be surrounded by pretty girls. She has only seen girls around the mansion. Not that she was one to judge, she just wondered why that is,

“So… There are beings here besides you that can change forms?” That means maybe in the future, she could too. Not that she would really want to without a reason. She liked how she looked, even if she did have some self esteem issues.

Her eyes lowered to their joined hands, his was so much larger than hers but it felt so nice to be held by his. Just thinking that made her blush a small bit, “He sounds like such a wonderful person… What you say is true, sometimes you must let go of those you love and it hurts but over time, the wound heals but you never stop loving them. Your story is both romantic as it is tragic. I wish I could do something to ease your pain.” He has been so kind and welcoming to her, she wished she could do something to repay him.

Sakura’s eyes snapped up to his face, a bit shocked at what he was suggesting, “Are… Are you saying I could get revenge on him?” She looked a little conflicted at first, until she thought about all the things he’s done to her, “He broke my heart…. Attempted to kill me… Called me degrading things… And it’s his fault I’m dead! He doesn't deserve to be happy!” The rush of emotions made her eyes glow a bit, her long hair flowed upward, and then suddenly a glass next to her shattered, snapping her out of it, “O-oh god, did I do that? I’m so sorry!” Sakura quickly grabbed a towel to clean the spilled wine. Mostly to prevent it from getting onto the pretty white dress he had gifted her. Was this some of the power she had? She didn’t know what happened, just a sudden rush and then the glass exploded,

“But… But if I kill him, won’t he just end up here? The last thing I want is to spend an eternity looking at him… Not that I was planning to kill him! Maybe… Rough him up a bit. Make it hard for him to sleep for the rest of his life. I highly doubt whatever I do would make him feel remotely bad about what happened to me.” Sakura sighed a bit, as she did her best to clean up the mess, not wanting to cause issues for the other girls. Her eyes moved back to him,

“You would go with me to do something like that? I-i don’t want you to think ill of me for being so petty.” Sakura also wondered if he did this sort of thing for everyone. Surely she wasn’t that special. Though part of her wanted to be that special to him. She felt oddly bonded to him.

"I did it because I wanted. My butterflies are the part of my powers. They can be ornaments or a weapon." Silver little insects light as feathers fluttered all about before they landed on his silver vambraces and melted into the butterfly shapes crafted there.

"The butterflies are from his mother's culture. She came from the Hmong people. Butterflies represent change and transformation, I transformed from something that is considered ugly and weak into something beautiful and strong... Butterflies symbolize the soul. Both the butterflies and my silver jewelry trace back to my heritage. As I said my mother was not Han Chinese, but rather from a major ethnic group called the Hmong. They have a different culture and history. The butterfly is a well-recognized symbol of the Hmong people, as they believe themselves descended from the clutch of eggs of the Mother Butterfly. Also, my silver jewelry is characteristic of the Hmong people, who have historically worn and crafted it. You could call it a sentiment...or last memory I have of my mother"

He kept the explanation short not wanting to bother her with unnecessary information. Knowing about him won't help her with her current problem, it may only distract her.

The hall leading to the dining room was as bright and beautiful as if they were about to get up into Heaven. But strangely to him, the most beautiful thing was her pure green eyes. At her statement, he laughed loudly still holding his small cup of tea. Strangely for a hell king, his laugh was melodic, sincere, and joyful. "Yes. I did say that. But you are a new ghost you are still able to taste it almost as when you were alive. I thought you would like to enjoy it while it lasts. I still like to drink tea, I can still taste it the same as blossom vine." But not to be rude he took a few bites of food and waved off the maids to answer her questions.

"Here beside humans, other spirits reside as well. Some look human some do not care how they look, and some on purpose take shape to scare living. That girl was a forest dweller. I think they call them Dryad. But this one is halfbreed so that is the reason for ears. Or that is what I heard."

His hand was much bigger than hers, and his gaze lowered to their hands. She was still so new a fresh dead, he could still feel in her traces of life when he brushed his fingers over her skin. He took her hand into his and covered it with his other. "My heart is broken and lonely just like his. But if you love someone it is not always about you and what you want, it is also about the person you love. He always had a strong sense of justice, he always loved people and the world, even when that same world never gave him anything. I respect his decision, he and I are now balanced. Besides knowing that he is alive is enough for me. As long as he lives so shall I "

"I wish I could comfort you with the saying what goes around comes around, but I was never a patient man, even when Xie Lian always scolded me. I always took things into my own hands and punished those who wronged me and him. Sakura, it is very easy to see what he is doing now. He is just an insignificant mortal in the sea of people." it was an indirect offer to an adventure, he has nothing better to do anyway. His days were all the same, he was alone and bored. His domain was secured, and no one even dared to go against him, ever since Jun Wu fell.

@hana-akari

[hypermanga]

You're a mean one, Mr. Coulter

Pairing: Eric x reader

Word count: 1073

Summary: You and Eric are known for your banter: some would call it a rivalry, others sexual tension. Either way, this "push and pull" between the two of you ends thanks to an unexpected encounter at a Christmas party as well as a bit of alcohol.

Inspired by the song "You're a mean one, Mr. grinch" by Lindsay Stirling featuring Sabrina Carpenter

LINK- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQb0DJZLhRM

A/N: I know that Eric's surname was never mentioned in the books, but it fitted so well that I couldn't resist ;)

~~~~

The whole pit as well as the clubs had been decorated with Christmas ornaments: from little elves to festively decorated trees, paying special detail to the mistletoe branches scattered in the doorways waiting for two unsuspecting sweethearts or just two unfortunate people to stand under them.

It was your third Christmas in a new faction and the first one as a leader. After passing through initiation, a leadership position was offered to you, which you declined as you felt too unprepared and with more room for improvement, much to Max's dismay. Since then, two years had passed and you had taught new initiates, gone to missions to control de factionless and even went outside the fence.

As you had come back from that mission, the offer was brought up to you again, and this time you accepted it, becoming one of the youngest leaders alongside Eric or, as you called him, "The pain on everyone's ass".

His reputation as the worst leader to have as instructor showed during your initiation, as he made it his duty to personally put you through living hell, even going as far as to give you private lessons because 'he saw your potential'...Yeah, your potential for being a new victim of his ways.

Now, as you stood beside him proudly in meetings and dared to sass him back, your relationship had become more of banter between enemies: every time he made a nasty comment, you were ready with a comeback, making all the other leaders or anyone near you sigh in exasperation at your battle of wits, even though most would say that it was more of a flirting.

As you entered the club, you were quickly met with a strong scent of alcohol, sweat and loud music: bodies against each other, drunk people screaming Merry Christmas to your ear, and people making out in the club's corners. You sat on the only available stool and asked for a drink, unaware of who was sitting beside you "Well, if it isn't our lovely new leader (Y/N)" You sighed as you recognised his voice "If it isn't the lovely-sorry, did I say lovely? I meant deadly- Eric, my favourite pain in the ass" "You know I am" He smirked "In your dreams" You shot back, downing the drink "So, what are you doing you doing in a place like this" You signalled the dancefloor "Ah, starting with the pickup lines?" He downed his drink as well and inched closer, making you gulp "I never took you for someone who would fall so easily to my charms" He smiled proudly, making you roll your eyes and inching closer as well, your noses almost touching "Maybe you'll have to try harder" You told him, for only the two of you to hear "Maybe I will" With that, he left the stool, leaving you lightheaded from the previous exchange.

After your conversation, Eric decided to get lost in the crowd, hoping you would follow him. Were you always this cute? In all honesty, he had noticed you after defeating one of the top initiates: your hair had been damped with sweat, your cheeks were red from exhaustion and you looked absolutely stunning. That's how he had ended up offering you private training lessons, even though you didn't need them, just to see your pretty face for his eyes to see only. He pushed you to your limits, trying to make you hate him so he could forget about his feelings, the rules stated that initiates and mentors couldn't have any kind of romantic relationship. But when you became a leader and started talking more and more to him, he got to know your intelligence and how your courage was not mere talk as you fought to protect your comrades from the Factionless.

Then he saw you leave the stool, smirking to himself in pure delight. He knew it was time to take some action, this game of cat and mouse was starting to get too borung.

In all honesty, Eric was hot, or was it the alcohol speaking? No, all those exchanges always had some flirtatious remark or tone in it, and you would often find yourself getting lost looking at his eyes, smile, arms, back...Get a grip (Y/N), he was a dick to you during initiation! But it was not only his physical appearance, it was his prideful attitude, his wit, how he cared about the faction and, in some way, his cold demeanour had become attractive to you.

Leaving the stool as well, you went to catch some air, it started to feel a little too hot in here. As you made your way to the exit, a hand caught your arm, coming face to face with the one who had occupied your thoughts for a while "Haven't seen you in a while" You said sarcastically, making Eric roll your eyes "Stop playing around, I know you like me" "Oh yeah? And what does make you think that way?" Crossing your arms, you lifted your chin proudly to meet his eyes, those stone cold eyes that, more often not, plagued your daydreams.

The staring match only lasted for a few seconds, yet it felt like minutes: the intensity of the situation, the booze flowing through your veins, the hot environment, it was way to tempting for Eric to kiss you "Nu-uh, you said that you would try harder" Your finger rested on his lips, making it even more tense. Eric grunted, earning a soft chuckle from your lips as a signal of triumph "Now you're not that cocky, aren't-" You yelped as Eric's arms snaked around your waist, pulling you to him "Is hard enough, princess?" He whispered in your ear, making you moan slightly due to the closeness.

As if on cue, the DJ decided to play a more seductive song, making Eric drag you to the middle of the dancefloor. You swayed your bodies to the music, Eric even twirling you around in a couple of ocasions, making you laugh in surprise "Do you hear that? 'Cuddly as a cactus', was this song written about you or something?" You laughed, Eric even chuckling a bit at that one "Don't push your luck, (Y/N), I might bite" He spanked your rear, earning a sigh from you as you tried to conceal it by biting your lip "You're a mean one, mr.Coulter...But how good it feels that you are so bad" you purred, before Eric connected your lips with his sensually as the final notes of the song played in the background.

The party was long forgotten as Eric took you by the hand and ran together towards his apartment in the upper floors of Dauntless.

So much for a Christmas miracle huh?

~~~~ @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @beltz2016 @readsalot73 @kenzieam @captstefanbrandt @sserpente @book-boys-are-my-guilty-pleasure

MASTERLIST

[anemo-writes]

hello travelers! i’m sorry for the late of inactivity recently, i’m working on some of my one-shot requests and obviously that will take a bit longer than writing headcanons; anyways, the genshin impact characters would like to wish you a very merry christmas!! the rest of the characters are below the cut to avoid clogging, so be sure to check them out too<3 happy holidays everyone, stay safe!

much love,

~ anemo-chan <3

The (Playable) Genshin Impact Characters Wishing You a Merry Christmas

Albedo: Merry Christmas. Ah, that reminds me—I hope that you do not mind, but I have sketched a portrait of you and want to give it to you as a gift. When did I do this, you ask? Why, it was during our time together in Dragonspine. It would have been a shame to not create something to remember one of my fondest memories, no?

Amber: Hey! Happy Christmas—Oh, I meant merry Christmas. Anyways, I have a gift for you! I noticed your glider was getting a bit worn out, so I got you a new pair; why don’t we go for a test run together? What? Oh yeah, gliding in the snow probably wouldn’t be the best idea, would it?

Barbara: Hehe, do you like the dress I’m wearing?—I made it myself! Oh, that reminds me, I made you a matching outfit to go along with mine when we go caroling together—huh? You’ve never been caroling before? No worries, Idol Barbara will teach you all you need to know!

Beidou: Yo~ Merry Christmas! How does the ship look? The crew and I spent the last week trying to decorate it accordingly. Say, how about you aboard the ship and join us for a few drinks? There’s nothing like a few mugs of eggnog on Christmas!

Bennett: Merry Christmas! Huh? What am I holding behind my back? Haha, well it was actually supposed to be your present...until I accidentally squashed it when I tripped walking out of the store, that is. Maybe I should’ve asked for extra luck for my presents this year...

Chongyun: Merry Christmas. Please accept this gift of a flower made of never-melting ice—I carved it myself. Yes, I partook in an ice-carving class when I was younger, so I suppose it does look somewhat like a professional’s; I hope to grow better at it, however. Perhaps I’ll gift my next creation to you, if you do not mind.

Diluc: Merry Christmas. I hope you do not mind if I gift you a bottle of a new line of wine we are producing at the winery—if you happen to enjoy it, do not hesitate to let me know; we have plenty of other bottles and I would be happy to give you another bottle or two. Ah, there’s no need for you to gift me anything back; your presence is a gift enough already.

Diona: Would you mind trying this special batch of eggnog that I made? It’s non-alcoholic, so hopefully my father—I mean, you won’t be able to taste the difference. That is, only if you want to—it’s not like I’m asking you to do me a favor or anything! Oh, and merry Christmas...

Fischl: Well, if it isn’t the merriest of the holidays! It won’t do to prepare a present that you would possibly not like, so please allow me to accompany you on a journey to find a gift of your deepest desires! Come, you have my full attention—what is it that you wish for?

Jean: Merry Christmas. It is another joyous occasion to celebrate. Ah, I apologize—I haven’t had time to buy you a gift. Why don’t we go together to find something you’d like? Please do not care about the price, see it as something I must repay you for for not having it wrapped and ready for you to open already.

Kaeya: Merry Christmas. You don’t happen to believe in Santa, do you? Oh, you do? Now now, that is very interesting. Haha, of course there’s no harm in believing in such a legend; that is, unless you’ve been naughty this year? Who knows what Santa does to bad little boys and girls...

Keqing: Merry Christmas! Here is a specially-crafted latern fueled by a part of my Electro-vision; it’ll never run out of charge, so please use it on your journey to light up the darkest of your days. I truly hope you enjoy it, and may the next year be filled with better luck and prosper.

Klee: Merry Christmas, best-friend! Here, look! Mm, it’s a bomb I made especially for you—it’s shaped like an ornament. Isn’t it the best? Don’t let Jean see though!! I’ll have to go solitary confinement for weeks if she catches you with one of my latest creations!

Lisa: Merry Christmas, cutie! As a gift, I’ve crafted you an amulet to match with one I’ve made for myself, so be sure not to loose it! It’ll look bad on my part, and we don’t want that, do we now?

Mona: Ah, the starry night always look brighter on such a merry holiday, don’t you think? Oh, that reminds me—here, take this. It’s an object to help you look for certain gems along your journey; it will glow when near, so be sure to keep an eye out. Once you find it, polish it well, and it will shine as bright as the night sky.

Ningguang: I would like to wish you a very merry Christmas. However, I was not too sure on what to get you as a gift, so please enlighten me on your preference. Go on, I am listening; anything will do, if it is to your liking.

Noelle: Merry Christmas! While it is a very merry day, it is bound with overwhelming errands and things to do—but fear not, your dutiful maid is here to serve you! Purchasing presents, wrapping them, or whatever else you would like me to do, I will do it—I am yours to serve for today, so please do not be shy to ask me to perform a task today.

Qiqi: Merry...Christmas? Yes, I believe that’s right. Baizhu told me that during these times friends often gift each other things, so I have brought you a bag of herbal medicine to use during your adventures because we are friends.

Razor: Ah...it is holiday today? Christmas...it does not sound familiar to Razor. But if you celebrate it, Razor is more than happy to celebrate with you; come, we will go hunting to prepare for our feast tonight.

Sucrose: Merry Christmas! Take a look at this, I’ve finally perfected the formula to this potion of mine! What does it do? Well, I’m glad you asked—if everything works accordingly to the plan, it’ll formulate a box of your most favorite memories of the past year into a physical memento! Doesn’t it sound wonderful?

Tartaglia: Hohoho~! Merry Christmas, comrade! Oh, that reminds me!—Teucer has been asking about you recently, so why don’t you join us for dinner? I’ll even escort you to Snezhnaya myself—perhaps we can even find some enemies to kill along the way. Haha, surely you won’t decline such an invitation?

Venti: Merry Christmas, dear friend! What is it that I’ve prepared for you on this joyous holiday, you may ask? Well, you’re in luck—I’ve written a new song just for you! Hehe, don’t worry about repaying me back, this song is completely free! Generous, I know! If you want to help though, make sure this song is passed down for multiple generations—I spent a long time writing it!

Xiangling: Merry Christmas! Look, look! I’ve prepared the two of us a whole feast for tonight’s dinner—what’s the bandaid on my finger, you ask? Oh, it’s no biggie, I accidentally cut myself while chopping some of the ingredients—oh, forget it! Let’s dig in! Be sure to tell me which one is your favorite; I’ll add to the menu at the restaurant!

Xingqiu: Merry Christmas, my liege! I have brought you one of my most treasured books as a gift for this joyous occasion; there is no need for you to return it! It is for your keeping. May the next year and years to come be filled with prosper and mirth!

Xinyan: Woohoo, it’s Christmas! What a rockin’ excuse to shred some Christmas tunes, amiright? Oh, you’ve got a pretty good voice if I do say so myself! Say, why don’t you join me up on stage today? I’ll play guitar, and you sing! That’s sure to rally up a crowd!

Zhongli: Merry Christmas—although I am not too familiar with the exchange of gifts, I have collected a rare flower for you which is native to Liyue only, and only grows during this time of the year. I hope to be able to exchange gifts with you next year as well.

[strigital]

Do tell about Nim, I couldn’t find much info about her through your blog and I am dying to know more about this werewolf lady

well grab a pint and sit yo booty down, cause our bard of the evening tonight is Nim and she's drunk as all hell and ready to weave some outrageous stories!! 🍻

in all seriousness, thank you for asking! 😭💗 she came about back in ye oldie days of hype over the 11th of november 2011, and since then refuses to give up the title of my fav oc!!

now, a Paarthurnax would say: lets-a go!

a quick recap of the events in Skyrim:

Naali Saryn was born sometime in 4E 130 on mainland Morrowind as a result of a quick fling between an unknown Dunmer girl and Lucien Lachance and Kassandra Saryn's (The Hero of Kvatch's) son.

Sometime in that year, the baby was found aboard a ship bound for Raven Rock and when no one came forth to claim her a couple of elderly and childless ash yam farmers decided to take her in until her family was found.

The family, of course, was never found, and so they raised her as their own for the next sixteen years. They called the girl Nim - short, sweet, meaningless, and easy to shout out into the fields where the little brat is out adventuring when the house chores are yet to be done.

Nim grew up alongside her best friend Teldryn (don't believe his tales about his past, there's a reason why he wears a helmet in his hometown). For years the kids dreamt of leaving Raven Rock behind and making it big in the big city. And idea which really annoyed Nim's ol' Nana, who believed that everything needed for a simple happy life was right here on Solstheim.

After one particularly nasty fight with Nana about the ordeal, Nim gathered a bag of things and slipped out in the dead of night to catch an early morning ship with Teldryn.

They stuck together for a while then went on their separate merry ways. He - to Blacklight, she - to Leyawiin. Once in the wild, Nim had to quickly figure out her place in the pecking order. The romantic life of crime seemed to be the most attractive for her, but getting on top could never be easy. Especially for a young, inexperienced, and naive girlie. So she ended up running with the wrong kind of crew. Ended up in some truly dark places. Barely got out alive. Learned from her mistakes. Wore the scars of abuse like armor and made sure that since that day no one in this world or any other would play her for a fool, use her or put a finger on her without her permission.

By the time she turned fifty, Nim was well known amongst certain circles as the kind of scoundrel, thief, bard, and wench one should not trifle with. But her luck had to eventually run out, and so it did on the night of the fabled Umbacano Mansion heist, which failed so badly Nim had to either leave Cyrodiil or end up in a Thalmor owned torture chamber.

Skyrim seemed like a perfect place. After all, in a kingdom torn apart by the civil war, no one would even notice yet another greyskin refugee, right? Well, the Thalmor did. And so she ended up on a cart bound for Helgen to have a date with an executioner. But then Alduin showed up to crash the party before he himself got rudely interrupted by another dragon, who swooped in to save the Last Dragonborn.

After the narrow escape, Nim concluded her duty to warn Balgruuf of the dragon threat and went on to start a new career as a merc with the Companions. She and Aela became fast friends and when the prospect of joining the Circle came up she gladly accepted a sip of her new sister's blood. To never again be helpless and weak? To rip apart any fool who'd take her for just another elf wench who can't put up a fight? Well of course it was worth giving up the ability to sleep and having to get used to all smells suddenly becoming ten times worse!

After that Mirmulnir showed up and ended up as another ornament above the throne in the Dragonsreach. And Nim got stuck with a title which she would wear with great discontent for years to come.

Eventually, she ceased trying to run away and hide from her destiny, accepted her role as the Last Dragonborn, and begrudgingly began her quest to save the world. On her journey, she met and became tight friends with Yollokmir and Alasil who taught her how to speak, fight and fly like a dragon. With their help she inherited Konahrik's legacy: his mask embued with his soul, his citadel far up in the mountains - the NebenLok Zeikangaar - and the right to revive and lead the order of dragon riders sworn to defeat Alduin - DovahDein.

As she gained power and the word of her great many deeds spread across Skyrim, she managed to get quite the following of fellow men, mer, and Dov, willing to follow her into Sovngarde and beat the hell out of Alduin. Alas, she failed. Twice.

At that point, Alasil informed her of a special someone who might be of help in their quest against Alduin and who might prove difficult to convince to join her cause. That was the first time in fifty years that Nim got to visit her home. Unfortunately, Solstheim had changed. And upon arrival, she learned that her Pa passed onto the realm of Azura soon after her departure, and her Nana... well, she wasn't young anymore and suffered greatly due to all the ash ruining her lungs... and when the islanders got called to the All-Maker stones night after night by a mysterious spell, she just worked herself to death. That was the only thing Nim wouldn't forgive Miraak for, not until he swallowed his pride and sincerely apologized for being responsible for his potential mother-in-law's death.

And with Miraak's help, they finally sent Alduin back to his Maker, enjoyed a few peaceful years until High King Ulfric became a bit drunk on his power and needed a good ass whooping as well. Then Miraak suddenly found himself as the new king and Nim... she just did her own thing. As always. The end?

Oh and all the while running about, gathering forces, growing her Dragonborn powers, hunting Dragon Priests and Alduin's henchmen, she also meddled with the Thieves Guild, put Karliah in charge and became her right hand, managed to become an advisor on all things dragon at the Mage's College, ended up teaching lute and songwriting at the Bard's College (she's taking a break since Viarmo can't seem to handle her teaching tactics), earned the title of Thane in every hold and became a good friend to the Dawnguard fellas (Isran is more than happy to teach her kids the ropes of monster hunting) after kicking Harkon's ass into Oblivion. In what little free time she has Nim also manages the Lakeview Manor and leases the ash yam farm back in Raven Rock for some extra cash. All in all, a busy woman!

and some tidbits about the dovahmom:

Although Nim is perfectly aware of her real name, she chooses to use the one given to her by Nana. Both as a sign of respect and because, frankly, she dislikes both the Sarynes and the Lachances, who are, in her humble opinion, just a bunch of pricks. Somehow, the ghost of her murdered grandad finds this opinion of hers kinda funny.

Her friends sometimes describe her as "cyrodiilic brandy in a cup of tea": she's this small elf girl with pretty blue eyes and a smile on her face and you think that she'll be very pleasant and cute and shy and then... then you realize she drinks like a sailor, swears like one too, can beat anyone into the dirt (thanks, Hircine) and doesn't take shit from nobody. She openly speaks her mind and doesn't give a shit about what someone might think of her. She does what she considers the right thing to do, never plays nice with those she dislikes, never pretends to be someone she isn't. She's feisty, sassy, brassy, and, quite honestly, just doesn't give a fuck.

Nim is in almost complete control over her inner beast, partly thanks to her draconic blood, partly - to the ring she got when she and Sinding had that little party on a moonlit night in that grotto. She only loses control over herself when both moons are full and thusly will travel deep into the wilds a few days before the magical night. This way the only people that might get hurt are bandits, necromancers, hags, and the like. She and Aela also managed to get a small werewolf pack going, named the Whitemane Pack after the old man himself and dedicated to those who wish to take control over their inner beast, hunt with honor, and cause the Silver Hand as much grief as possible.

Nim is raising Blaise and Sofie as her own since they both were just wee lil' war orphans (the babes are in their teens now). She never quite really knew why... Nim was never a wifey nor a baby momma kind of woman. In fact, she can't even have children in the first place and, honestly, always thought of this as a blessing - never having to worry about contraception like all those other girls and just having fun without a care in the world! Her friends sometimes joke around, saying that she might've finally "ripened" for the motherhood, but she doesn't care. She loves Blaise, Sofie, and Sissel (thanks, Miraak, you're so good at kidnapping children!) and is content with being their famous Dragonborn mom. Post-Alduin Miraak, however, is secretly annoyed for not being able to get her pregnant. Oh well, the man can dream...

Oh yeah! Nim plays the lute and sings too! It's a skill she picked up across taverns all over the continent when she realized that bards get free drinks and a bed, as well as ample opportunity to sniff out and seduce prey. And even though her days of hunting for good-looking rich fools are long behind her, she still performs in inns and taverns across Skyrim. Firstly, it brings in a fair amount of money, and secondly, it's good for her Voice! And also just plain and simple fun.

Also, people get terribly surprised when she, a Dunmer, doesn't act like one at all! Nim might've grown up in Raven Rock, a Dunmer settlement, but she spent the rest of her life traveling the continent and then living in Skyrim. She's more Nord-ish than some Nords! And the Nords actually really love it! It's so so easy to just get plastered with the homegirl, punch some faces and pass out on a heap of hay behind the inn, just happy to be alive on this fine snowy day. The only truly Dunmer thing about her is the occasional "n'wah!" which escapes her potty mouth. I mean, she doesn't even like sujamma all that much and would rather have a pint of mead! Whatever Ancestors she has must be spinning in their graves fast enough to generate electricity.

uuuhhh I think that's all the important stuff? i might've forgotten, in which case, I'll add it later... meanwhile, have some more Nim content:

^^^ the fanfic is slow, but it's moving... at a snail's pace. my advice: don't expect updates, so that when they do come, you'll be pleasantly surprised!

[cosmiceverafter]

My @malexsanta Secret Santa gift for @gra-sonas 🎁🎄 I was thrilled to give you a Malex gift this year. You're one of my absolute favorites and such a dear friend. You wanted all the holiday cheer: Christmas ornaments, cookie recipe, market, and FLUFF! I hope this domestic fic truly delivers, brings joy to your holiday season, and fills your heart with warmth during the hiatus. I love you, hun! Xoxo.  ❤️️💚

(PS: there's a little surprise in this fic, just for you, inspired by you)

***

Christmas Cookies & Holiday Hearts 

"You know, this will be our first Christmas together. Officially." 

As Michael says the words, Alex glances over at him, and his heart skips a beat. How is it that his alien still manages to take his breath away after so much time? 

Alex smiles and gradually runs his fingertips up and down Michael's strong arm, feeling the smooth skin there. "You're right, even though I know you've tried to get me under a mistletoe for years." 

"I mean, yeah...." Michael beams. His tan shoulders shrug as he kisses Alex's chest softly, "You aren't wrong, babe. Who could deny those luscious lips?" 

Michael's fingers slowly trail up Alex's chest, which currently has imprints of his lover's glowing handprints left lovingly due to their intimacy with each other.

When he sees them, Alex knows with certainty that their love can move mountains and is capable of expanding through galaxies. 

As Alex feels the calluses of Michael's hands on his body and now his lips, he closes his eyes to embrace the effect it manages to bring. It's as if a spark of electricity courses through his veins and ignites his soul. That's the only way he can explain it. 

Nothing ever compares to this—what they have together in these silent moments. Alex will always cherish this peace with his loved one. 

After a moment of soft loving caresses, Michael's smile disappears. Alex knows he's traveling deeper into that intelligent mind of his, the way he always seems to do these days. "But here's the thing, I want it to be special, meaningful. Christmases were never something to be excited about for me, you know? Just another shitty day."

Alex holds his breath but nods. Unfortunately, he knows precisely what Michael means. Though different, the events of their past, parallel each other in many forms worth forgetting. Alex's upbringing was painful in its way. Still, Alex wishes Michael, his sweet, brilliant alien, could have been spared the misery. 

All Michael Guerin has ever wanted was a home, to feel like he belongs on this planet, and Alex wants to spend the rest of his life giving him precisely that. 

"So, you've never done anything memorable during the holiday season? Not once?"

Michael raises an eyebrow as if to announce come on, but then he suddenly laughs as a memory resurfaces, "Well...there was that one time Sanders and I attempted to bake Christmas cookies for his customers." 

Alex smirks as he imagines how that scene played out. A younger Michael Guerin, who was in-and-out of the foster system, and the older man with one good eye, baking in a small trailer. "And uh, how did that turn out?" Even though he can take a wild guess.

Michael shakes his head as his golden curls bounce and sway. He holds up his arm, "Badly, I have a battle scar from the process."

There is a slight white mark on the inside of Michael's arm, which looks a bit like a four-leaf clover. Alex has always wondered about it. "Damn, and here I thought that was a lucky birthmark."

"Darlin', the only good luck charm in my life is you. Never forget that." Alex feels his heart flutter in his chest at Michael's words, and Michael gently kisses Alex's forehead. But before Alex can return the sentiment, his love continues, "But yeah, Sanders' oven was old as hell at the time, and I guess no one taught me not to stick my whole damn arm right on the rack. Sanders felt awful about it. Poor guy." 

"Were the cookies at least good?"

There's a sparkle in Michael's eyes as he says, "You know what? They were. I need to find that damn recipe—it has to be somewhere. Then maybe I can take the old man one, even though you are the better baker." His fingers lace together with Alex's, and Alex gives him a loving squeeze. 

"You're right, I am," Alex smirks as he wiggles his eyebrows. "But I would be happy to help you. Sanders would seriously love that!" 

Alex looks down at their hands still together. He is so happy that Michael now spends so much time with Walt. It is not a boss-employee type of relationship, but more of a familial one. After everything they had both been through, this progression felt natural. And if he's honest, Alex loves seeing Michael finally opening up to others, the way he does with Alex. 

Michael nods and grins, "Done." His caramel eyes gaze at Alex, and he turns over to his side. "But I want new memories, too. Truthfully, besides the cookie disaster, I've never had anyone to share the holidays with."

Again, Alex knows all too deeply what he means, "I know the feeling, my love. I've always admired Christmas from a distance, and it seemed...well, always on the outside looking in." He squeezes Michael's hand tightly through the sheets once more, "I'm thankful to have you by my side. We're both on this journey together." 

"Baby, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather share the memories with." Michael brings the back of Alex's hand to his lips, "Always and forever." 

****

The next day, Alex and Michael decide to go Christmas shopping for their friends, who were more like their found family at this point. 

Roswell had turned festive overnight, and it warms Alex's heart as if he were sitting by the crackling embers. 

Truthfully, he loves the magic that comes with Christmas: The twinkling lights aglow; the cheerful, upbeat, and often, repetitive music; the smiling faces of those who don't wait till the last minute to shop; the smell of cinnamon sugar baked goods; and the falling snow—when they were lucky enough to get some. 

For the first time, Roswell has even set up a Christmas Market like the ones you'd see in Europe. Alex's desert town has turned into a quaint storybook village.

Somebody has strung up multicolored lights between the small buildings, with brightly colored booths, side-by-side. There are reindeer attached to strings high up in the air, and a magnificent tall Christmas tree is sparkling within the town square. Above the tree is a halo of orange lights, symbolizing their golden desert sun. 

It brightens both their spirits to witness the magic created. As Alex and Michael walk around, they hear the soft holiday music surrounding them, which only rekindles their melody passion. 

They travel to each booth as they look for treasures to buy for their loved ones. Alex also keeps his eyes open for something unique he can get his Michael, but nothing quite captures his glance. 

"Look at this!" Michael calls in the distance. He's standing in front of a lovely booth with peppermint designs on the awning and dangling glimmering white lights.

Alex sees what Michael is holding—it's a beautiful guitar ornament. Painted on the guitar are swirls of green, blue, and black, sparkled with stars symbolizing the night sky. 

"Wow..." he says in response. "It's breathtaking."

Michael winks and bumps his shoulder lightly into Alex's, "Pretty cosmic, eh?"

"I'll say," Alex agrees as his grin widens. 

"It was clearly made for us," Michael acknowledges as he wraps a strong arm around Alex's waist, "I think it would be the perfect ornament for our first tree together." 

Alex kisses Michael softly on the lips, "I couldn't agree more, my love." 

****

"So, you have no idea what you're getting him?" 

Michael looks over at Isobel feeling exhausted, not at all how he felt when shopping with Alex, "Obviously not, that's why we're here, Iz." 

"Michael, Christmas is less than one week away, and we're sitting in some random store, shopping for the love of your life, and you don't have a clue about a special gift for him?" 

"Yup, that sounds about right."

Isobel shakes her lengthy blond hair back-and-forth. "Have I taught you nothing over the years?"

Michael groans, "Remind me again why I asked you to come with me?" 

His alien sis just shrugs, "Because I'm brilliant, and it's obvious you need me. I would even add the word 'desperately.'"  

"No...I don't recall that being the reason," Michael teases as he slings his arm lovingly over her shoulders. "You just love this stuff." 

"You're right, I do. It's the best holiday these humans celebrate!" They both laugh, but Isobel kisses his cheek, "Listen, deep down somewhere underneath that dirty white tee of yours, you've gotta have an inkling of what you want to get him." 

Well, if he had a clue, he would know it, wouldn't he? 

But then Michael freezes as he sees something across the store, "Um, wow...that was fast, but you're right, I do."

 Isobel pops a hip out, "Told you so." 

"Yeah, the only problem is I'm not sure how he'll react to it." 

Isobel smiles genuinely, "You know your man; you always have. Go with your instinct, Michael. I mean, word around this town is that they call you a genius or something." She gives him a look as she ruffles up his curls. "But pull away from that mind for once and go with that heart of yours. I, for one, know it's a pretty damn good one." 

Michael snickers but truthfully feels loved, "You could write a self-help book, you know that?"

She winks and bites her red-stained lip, "Who says I haven't already?"

"Give your brother a signed copy. He'll appreciate it." 

"As if," Isobel rolls her eyes, "You know Max wouldn't read it. That poor miserable fool who I love dearly." She pauses but adds, "So, Mr. Guerin, what'll it be? You going to listen to your heart?"

Michael narrows his eyes at the prize. Already knowing the answer to her question, he decides to let his heart follow the lead.  

****

"A little to the left, babe!" Michael calls out to Alex as they attempt to fit the oversized tree through the cabin door. "Darlin', my left." 

They spent the evening looking for the perfect tree, as it was their official first Christmas together. However, they ended up going with a taller sparse, and lopsided pine because, truthfully, life wasn't perfect, and neither were they. 

Life is what you make it, and Michael is confident they can make this tree as bright as his heart feels when he's around Alex.   

"There, perfect spot by the window," Alex smiles beautifully, pulling Michael back into the present moment as he nods in agreement. 

"I should've tried harder not to get it through the door, though. Those muscles of yours are worth staring at a bit longer." 

"Well, hold that thought, Guerin, because I'm hungry for food at the moment," Alex replies as he wraps his arms around Michael. "I'm thinking of soup; it's chilly tonight. Maybe it'll even snow." 

Michael runs his fingers on Alex's thick biceps, feeling hungry for something else, "I doubt it. The forecast didn't show it. And knowing our little city, we'll probably end up having a heatwave tomorrow." 

"Hey now," Alex remarks, looking deeply into Michael's eyes, "you never can know future outcomes." 

Michael smiles mischievously, "I dunno...I think your future looks pretty damn bright tonight, babe." 

"Is that a promise?" Alex asks, clearly flirting back. 

"Always, darlin'.'" 

They lean in to share a long lingering kiss, but before it turns too heated, Michael's belly moans in betrayal. Alex pulls back as he chuckles, "Raincheck for later, okay? I'm going to start dinner. Can you set up the tree so we can decorate afterward?"

Michael glares down at his stomach for the interruption but nods, "Absolutely." He moves his fingers, "I do know how to use these hands."

Alex grins in that sexy way of his as he walks into the kitchen, "Don't I know it." 

Michael loves this. He loves that he decided to take the leap of faith and move in with Alex. This cabin has become their oasis, his true home. And here with Alex, he feels like he finally has a place here on earth. 

Everything they had been through, even the pain, was worth it to get to this moment. Michael can't help but feel tears form in his eyes as he feels overwhelmed in gratitude. 

While Alex moves around in the kitchen, Michael cheats a bit to get the tree set up. His powers hover the pine in the air as Michael uses his hands to set up the tree stand. As he moves the small box of ornaments and lights over from the closet, Michael smiles as he hears Alex humming a new song as he cooks. 

Michael wants to live here in this domestic bliss forever.

Alex brings out his home-cooked meal, and damn, Michael thinks as he eats, his man knows how to cook. After they eat the delicious soup, Michael scrubs the plates as Alex makes them each a cup of hot cocoa with marshmallows, just the way Michael likes it. When the kitchen is clean, they sip on the chocolatey warmth as they string lights and decorate their tree. 

"Here's our new one," Alex says as he holds their new cosmic ornament in his hand. 

"That's a special one that needs to go right in front," Michael replies, as he hangs it up, hand-in-hand with Alex. "There." 

Alex leans over and kisses his cheek, which warms Michael's heart. "It's perfect." 

"You're perfect," Michael states as he leans his head onto Alex's shoulder. Alex slides his arm around his waist. Their movements are continuously in sync, and they are always somehow touching. 

As Alex's fingers softly graze over the skin on his hip, Michael knows what kind of touch he desires right this moment, "Now, how about we curl up by the fire, and I show you just how talented my hands can be?" 

"Yes, I could use the reminder," Alex responds with a slow grin.

They quickly light the fire, then Alex gives Michael the look as he pulls him towards the couch. 

Being so helplessly caught up in each other, they miss the first few snowflakes that fall in Roswell. 

****

It's cold out, but worth the trip. Alex gives the nod towards Michael, who taps gently on Sanders' trailer door. 

Michael shifts uncomfortably, but Alex is proud of him for facing the emotions he knows his love feels inside. 

After Sanders admitted to trying to adopt Michael, it indeed did something to Michael's heart. He opened up more, and Alex knew that Michael slowly realized he was always wanted and truly loved where it counted. It did something to Sanders too. Alex could almost see the young boy Walt coming through when they spoke now. There was a twinkle in his eye, and he would share memories with a smile instead of sadness. 

They felt like a family. 

That's why they had talked before coming to the old man's house with the cookies. There is something big that Michael wants to do, but Alex knows he's scared. 

Alex is by his side the entire time. 

Sanders opens the door with a smile, "Oh, Michael! Alex! Welcome! I wasn't expecting you." He shakes his shirt with a look of embarrassment. 

"We wanted to surprise you!" Alex says with a grin. He shakes the old man's hand. 

Sanders pats the back of his hand lightly, "I'm glad you did. Please, come in, you two. It's actually cold out." 

Michael takes a big breath and follows Sanders inside. 

When inside, Michael hands him the cookies, "Merry early Christmas." 

"Oh! These look delicious," Sanders says admiringly. 

"I'm not sure if you remember, but these are the exact cookies we made that one Christmas together." 

Sanders looks up at Michael with surprise, "Truly? The... 'burn on the arm' year?"

Michael nods with a jokingly wince, "The very one."

Sanders blows out hard, "Well, it always pained me that you got burned on that damn old oven of mine, but I must say, those cookies were superb, weren't they?" 

"They were, burned and all." 

"And you baked these all by yourself? Uh, should I be scared?" Sanders teases with a nudge. 

"Nah, I had some guidance," Michael mentions as he casually puts his arm around Alex. 

Alex shrugs, "I barely helped at all. Michael here did an excellent job. I tried one, so I can promise you that you'll survive." He winks at Michael. 

"Oh, phew! That's a relief," Sanders chuckles. "Michael, where did you find the recipe?" 

"In the garage, it was in a wooden box on one of your shelves. The one that's slightly tilting. I remembered you putting it in there." Michael taps his head, "I'm pretty observant if you haven't already noticed."

Sanders sighs with a lopsided grin, "You get it from me, I think." He pops one in his mouth. "Wow, absolutely delicious." After he chews, he looks towards Michael with an expression of gratitude. "Well, thank you, son, this means a lot to me."

Alex knows what the word son does to Michael, its effect on him, and Michael shifts awkwardly. He looks over to Alex for reassurance, and Alex holds his hand, comforting him the best way he knows how.  

His strength, after all, is linked to Michael's. They go together in every way that matters. 

"That's not the only thing I brought for you," Michael whispers. He reaches into his back pocket and hands Sanders the envelope. 

"Oh, a Christmas card?"

"Um, well, not exactly," Michael replies as he squeezes Alex's hand tighter. 

Sanders puts on his reading glasses and switches the lights on brighter in the trailer. He opens the envelope and starts to read. The small smile on his face begins to fall, and he becomes nonplussed.

Alex acknowledges that Michael gets uncomfortable, maybe even nervous, but Alex knows that Sanders is touched. 

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Sanders looks up, and his eyes are full of tears. His voice comes out raspy and hoarse as he asks, "You sure? You want that?"

"More than anything," Michael responds, his voice also full of emotion. "If you'll have me, of course." 

"It would be an honor, son." Sanders sets the adoption papers onto his small wooden table and pulls Michael tightly in his arms. "You've always felt like mine, anyway." 

"I think my mom would be happy about this," Michael cries, letting the tears fall down his face. It's the most beautiful sight to witness, and Alex can't help but let go, too. 

Sanders nods and closes his eye as he holds his son, "You know, my boy, I think she would." 

****

A few days before Christmas, Alex and Michael decide to throw a little festive party at the cabin. They spent the morning stringing up lights outside, getting the drink station ready, and preparing their friend's gifts around the tree. 

It was perfect. 

Isobel is the first to arrive, of course, and she brings so many gifts, she can hardly get through the door, "Hello? A little help here, Michael?" 

"I'm coming. I'm coming!" 

Alex finishes up in the kitchen, and even though the feast smells delicious, Michael's man looks good enough to eat. 

Soon after Isobel has her martini in hand, the others follow suit. 

Liz and Kyle come together, hand-in-hand, and Michael prays it won't be awkward with Max. Gregory shows up, and Isobel immediately wraps her arms around him. Michael and Alex share a knowing smile, especially when she holds a mistletoe above his head. Then Maria and Mimi head inside with a few bottles of wine. With holes in the top, Rosa brings a large box inside, making Michael wonder what it is, but Arturo follows with a banana cream pie from the diner, and the rest is history. Sanders joins, of course, and Michael can't help but hug him longer than the rest. And finally, his boy Max. 

Luckily everyone gets along perfectly. The group has been through so much together that they make a toast for a fresh new beginning. 

Everyone at the party finally knows about the aliens being, well, aliens, and swore to protect them. The secret has bonded and united them in ways Michael never expected.

The group mingles as they sip their drinks, and Michael looks around the room at his friends and family, feeling lucky. He made a life for himself in Roswell, and as he looks towards the love of his existence, Michael knows it's time. 

He takes a moment to just stare at Alex, and suddenly he's beyond grateful he listened to his heart. 

Alex is the one for him. Michael now understands that this human was his reason for coming to this planet—they were written in the stars long ago, destined to be together. 

This is why Michael stands up bravely, walks towards Alex, and gets down on one knee. 

Michael opens the little black box he got in the store with Isobel and reveals a silvery gray tantalum band, one he knows will fit Alex perfectly. 

Isobel hushes everyone down and clasps her hands together as she sends Michael a wink from across the room. Max also gives Michael an encouraging nod, which provides him with the strength he needs at that moment. 

Michael stares up at the man he adores, and Alex's perfect mouth falls open. Taking his love's hand, Michael finally finds his voice, "Alex Manes, you are my whole world. When we were teens, you looked at me in music class and sparked something deep inside me; something I didn't quite understand, but it was there with me all along. And when we kissed for the first time, you woke me up to the life I had always dreamed of having. You are that dream, Alex. You are my family, and you've given me a place to call home. I have loved you from the beginning, and I'll love you to the very end." Michael takes a deep breath, "I would be the happiest alien on earth if you would yes. So please, darlin', will you marry me?" 

Alex gleams as tears fill those beautiful eyes, "We truly are linked...." 

"What...what do you mean?" Michael whispers, but Alex immediately joins him on the floor, kneeling in front of him. 

Alex pulls out an emerald velvet box and opens it. Inside is an engraved bronze band that matches the color of Michael's eyes. He holds his breath as the rest of the world fades away. "I mean, you beat me to it even though I've had this ring since we officially got together." Alex places his hand to Michael's face and strokes his cheek gently. "I was waiting for our first Christmas together because I wanted to give us both a happy memory to erase all the bad ones. The plan was going to ask Walt for his approval, which he wholeheartedly gave." They both look at Sanders, who nods with a loving grin. "And then I'd get down on one knee in front of all our loved ones and ask if you'd continue to create this life together with me, a true home." Then Alex holds Michael's hand again, "All I can say is that I love you more than I could ever begin to put into words, and I'm asking you if you'd do me the honor in marrying me?"

Michael doesn't realize he's crying until he feels the drops land on his outstretched hand. "Oh my God, Alex...." 

"Is that a yes?"

Michael laughs softly as he strokes the back of Alex's hand gently, "I believe I asked you first, darlin'." 

Alex nods with a breathtaking smile, tears flickering those beautiful dark eyes, "Of course I will. A hundred times, yes!" He leans in closer to Michael, "And you?"

"That would be a hell yes, baby!" He hears a whoop from one of his friends in the background, but then Michael gets serious. "It's always been a yes for me." Michael cups Alex's face, "You're my human, Alex Manes." 

"That's Alex Sanders if you don't mind."

Michael looks over at his adoptive father again, who's now wiping his eyes and positively glowing. Michael kisses Alex's lips, "I don't mind a bit." 

As they finish their first engaged kiss, their friends cheer, cry, and hug them both tightly, then Isobel giggles, "Is now a good time to give you two our gift?" 

"Go for it, Scooby Squad," Michael exclaims as he takes Alex's hand in his own, never wanting to let go. 

Isobel looks to the room they had closed, "Okay, Rosa, bring her out!" 

Michael and Alex exchange a look. Bring who out?

And before Michael can overthink it, Rosa comes out holding a beagle puppy. "It's a rescue. The shelter I volunteer at found her abandoned on the side of the road." 

"We thought it would be perfect for you two, plus, remember that dinner we had a couple of weeks ago?" Isobel says as she looks towards Alex. "You practically said you were going to start looking for one. I remember you saying, 'the cabin is much too quiet, I think we need to get a dog.'"

Alex laughs and takes the small puppy into his arms, "I don't recall those were my exact words, but it doesn't matter; she's perfect."

"Lost without a family," Michael says, petting the puppy's long ears, "sounds like the two of us all right."

"You mean a found family!" Liz calls out. "Just like all of us."

Alex looks at Michael and nods. Michael smiles back, "We love her. Thank you, everyone!"

"I knew this pup would be a part of your future," Mimi exclaims, and Michael watches Alex wink at her. "She's a gentle soul. I'm happy she'll have you two." 

"Best dog daddies ever," Maria smiles happily. Everyone in the room has what seems to be permanent heart-eyes. "We will miss her, though! She's been staying with us." 

"Well, you know you all are welcome here anytime!" Alex says. 

"What will you name her?" Gregory asks as Isobel leans back into his arms. 

"How about Kyletta?" Michael laughs as he looks towards Kyle. "Kyletta Barklenti." 

"Real funny, alien boy," Kyle responds, as he rolls his eyes looking reasonably amused. He looks over at the food, "How about Bagel? You seemed to be pretty obsessed with those today, Guerin. I mean, how many did you actually eat?" 

"I was hungry!" Michael retorts, "You didn't bring nearly enough to share." 

"Okay, okay," Alex intervenes as he shakes his head. Michael enjoys ruffling Kyle's feathers, but Michael doesn't mind the guy beneath his human annoyances. He's a good friend to Alex, making him a good man in Michael's book. 

"So, what are you going to name her then?" Max asks from across the room.

"Yeah, I mean, you don't actually have to name her after a food," Kyle teases. 

"No," Michael grins, "you know what, Doc? I like it. Bagel. It has that—" 

"Bagel! Yes, call her Bagel. I love it!" Isobel interrupts. 

"Not again..." Michael groans quietly. Isobel + anything bagel = interruptions, which is a no-go, especially when it comes to Alex. 

After they finalize the name, everyone gushes over the puppy and their rings. They eat, share stories, and finish opening gifts. 

The day is perfect in every way. Even on the Hallmark channel, they don't make them better than this.

Michael holds Bagel in his arm and takes a break from the crowd. He sits on the couch in the living room, and the puppy folds up into his lap, falling asleep as Michael rubs her ears. 

After a moment or two, someone strokes his shoulder lightly, and he looks up to see his fiancé's beautiful face. Michael feels immensely grateful, not for the first time this holiday season.

Alex scoots in close and whispers in Michael's ear, "So, my love, would you say this Christmas is worth remembering?" 

Michael pulls Alex in his arms, "Yes, darlin'. I've never been happier in my life." He takes Alex's hand with the ring and kisses it. "Our family is already growing."

"It sure is," Alex says, putting his forehead against Michael's as he strokes Bagel's soft fur. 

They sit there for a while, just the three of them, with the comforting hum of loved ones surrounding them. 

"Wow...Look, Michael." Michael looks out the window to see it snowing.  The snowflakes fall to the ground in a swirling dance. It reminds Michael of their life together, new and old memories, coming together in a story of love. 

Michael feels complete peace in his heart as Alex says, "Merry Christmas, my love."

It was merry, and their future, well, Michael knows it will be very bright as long as they always have each other. 

"I love you," Michael answers. 

Alex's reply is the kiss they share and would continue sharing for the rest of their days. 

[akire-echo]

Christmas with Gadreel

When Dean first suggested a going to the Christmas fair in town, you were sceptical. The world didn’t really give you a chance to take a break often, who knew what horrors would await you at a seemingly innocuous festive fair. But you reluctantly agreed, needing the time off from killing various monsters and having to deal with angels or demons.

So you got in the impala, bundled up for the Kansas winter. Dean laughed at you for it but you were cozy in your nerdy hat, scarf, and gloves.

You smiled as the car started and Dean pulled out of the bunkers garage.

It wasn’t long before Sam was calling Cas to see if he was busy.

And in seconds there were two angels in the backseat with you.

You felt squished, as Cas sat on the opposite window from you and the newcomer Gadreel was pressed up against your other side.

“Oh, hey.” You said to the angel.

“Hello, lady Y/N, I apologize for any inconvenience on the trip.” Gadreel said in his distinct way of talking.

You smiled. For all of his mistakes, he was still so sweet and kind.

“It’s alright Gadreel. You’re probably warmer than me so feel free to cozy up when we’re outside.”

You thought you saw him blush at that.

Dean, Sam, and Cas went off to do some sort of shopping and activities while you were on babysitting duties. You didn’t mind, you liked Gadreel a lot.

You and he spent some time just walking around and looking at the various booths.

You spotted a cool one up ahead.

“Oooh, mulled wine, let’s get some!” You urged Gadreel.

“I don’t-“

You cut him off by grabbing his hand and pulling him to the vendor. He stumbled a little but went along with you.

“One mulled wine, please.” You smiled at the woman.

“None for your boyfriend?” She asked.

You looked at Gadreel, smiling. He was definitely blushing now.

“He doesn’t really drink.” You said to her, which was true.

You used your free hand to give her money, then took your drink.

The first sip was like magic. Tasted like Christmas and it definitely put you in the holiday spirit.

“Mmm, want to try some Gad?” You asked the angel whose hand you were holding.

“I’m afraid that I’d only taste the molecules.” He said sadly. ”But you look as if you are enjoying it, so please continue.”

You smiled at him again. ”Of course.”

You sipped your drink more, but kept holding the angels’ hand.

He seemed perfectly content to go along with you, hearing you explain the purposes of random Christmas traditions.

“Why is there so much mistletoe?” He asked, pointing with his free hand.

“You know about mistletoe?” You asked back.

“I’m familiar with the plant,” he nodded,

”But I am unsure how it pertains to this holiday.”

“Well, we hang it on the top of doors and if two people are caught under it, they have to kiss.”

“Why?”

“Tradition.” You shrugged. ”Dean tried it last year but it was just him and Sam so he burned it all.”

He didn’t find that amusing, apparently.

Gadreel followed along and actually picked up an ornament or two. One particularly funny one for Dean.

“Wish we had a real tree to put those on but Dean won’t let the impala carry one, says it’ll scratch her paint.”

“You’d want a Christmas tree, in the bunker?”

“Why not? We could put it in the war room, it’d look good. We could have egg nog and curl up by the fire while fairy lights twinkle.”

Gadreel nodded, brows furrowed as if contemplating something.

“Dean would probably throw a fit though.” You sighed. ”Oh well, let’s see if we can find where they all ended up.”

Dean and Sam ended up so drunk and silly with holiday cheer that they passed out in the back of baby. You felt warm and cozy, albeit tipsy and brain feeling hazy. Cas drove back to the bunker while you sat next to him, Gadreel sat in shotgun. You leaned up against the bigger angel, head on his strong shoulder. It was dark and the roads already slippery by the time the impala pulled into the bunkers garage. Cas got to work getting the boys out of the back of the car while Gadreel helped you out of the front.

You tripped into his arms.

“Miss Y/N, you seem to be stumbling, may I help you to your room?”

“Only if you carry me.” You giggled.

He gave you a confused look but scooped you up quickly. You got a little head rush.

“So strong.” You mused, feeling his bicep and cuddling up to his chest.

“Feeling cold?” He asked.

“Mmm not anymore.” You closed your eyes.

He carried you all the way to your room and set you in bed, then removing your shoes.

You could barely stay awake.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember waking up in Gadreel’s arms. He was warm and cozy.

“Gad?” You asked.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Why are you in my bed?”

“You asked me to stay, said I was too comfy to let go of.”

You hid your head in his chest.

“I’m sorry.” You said. ”You must’ve been uncomfortable.”

“Not at all, I appreciate being able to help.”

You smiled. ”I uh, I didn’t snore or drool or anything right?”

“You slept peacefully, I made sure of it.”

You let out a happy sigh then moved away from him.

“I should let you get up.” You said.

He smiled and nodded.

“Y/N!!!” You heard an angry scream.

You groaned and audibly said, ”What now?” You got out of bed to follow the sound of Dean’s anger.

And when you saw what he was on about, your jaw dropped.

The whole war room was decorated! There was garland and lights and festive decor everywhere. To top it all off was a massive tree that went all the way to the ceiling with the star on top. It was...magical.

“Did you do this?!” Dean yelled accusatorially.

“I swear to you that I did not do any of this.” You told him. ”Not that I’m displeased with it, I love it! But I didn’t do it.”

“I’m getting rid of it.” He grumbled.

“What? Can’t it stay up? Just for the holidays?” You asked. ”Pleeeease?”

You pouted at him.

“Fine, but you are taking it all down.”

You hugged him happily. “Love you Dee.”

“Yeah yeah, whatever.”

You looked back to see Gadreel beaming.

“I have to get Cas!” You said and ran to get the other angel from his room.

“Cas! Come and see!”

You grabbed onto his arm and pulled him to the war room but Gadreel stopped you.

“I uh...I think you should look up.” He told you.

You looked up to see the mistletoe, then looked at Cas.

“Tradition, Cas, pucker up.” You chuckled and placed a peck on his lips. “There, now we will have good luck.”

He looked confused.

You looked back to Gadreel, his jaw seemed tense. Much more than usual.

The rest of the day was spent baking in the bunkers kitchen, Dean helped. You’d also managed to get caught a lot under the mistletoe. You got Dean, who kissed you like he meant it. You’d gotten Sam while you both were getting books from the library, he kissed you quickly. And you’d gotten Cas several times. The only person you’d been unfortunate to miss was Gadreel. You hadn’t really seen him since the morning.

“Okay, cookies need to cool before we ice them so I’m going to find Gadreel.” You told Dean. ”No eating the cookies.”

He groaned but agreed.

You set out to find the angel.

It didn’t take long, even with the bunker as big as it was.

He was sat in a corner chair reading a book, eyebrows furrowed again.

“Hey, is this where you’ve been the whole time?” You asked him.

“Did you need my assistance?” He asked back.

“No but I...I noticed your absence. Want to ice some cookies?”

“I’m not sure how to...”

“I’ll teach you, come on.”

You held out your hand to him.

He smiled softly and went along with you.

But he stopped abruptly.

“Gad? What’s wrong?”

His face was beet red as he looked up.

Oh, the mistletoe.

“Tradition, Gadreel.” You said shyly.

“Yes I um...tradition.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck.

He looked at you, eyes searching yours.

“Kiss me, Gadreel.” Your face felt like it was on fire.

He slowly leaned in, hands on your back.

Your lips met his in a warm kiss. It was more Christmas magic. Your heart was spinning as you prolonged the kiss.

The kiss broke off naturally when you needed to breathe.

“More.” You said.

He obliged and kissed you again, this kiss even more special.

You held on for dear life as you kissed the angel you’d been crushing on.

When you pulled away, you looked into his eyes.

“Tradition?” He asked.

You shook your head. ”No, I wanted it.”

He smiled. ”As did I.”

“Is that why you were gone? You were sulking because you hadn’t kissed me under the mistletoe?”

“Only a little...”

“Well, your kiss is the only one that matters.”

“I take offence to that!” Yelled Dean from the kitchen.

You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Shall we decorate?” Gadreel asked.

“We’d better, before Dean eats all the icing.” You joked.

He smiled. ”Merry Christmas Y/N.”

You smiled back. “Merry Christmas Gadreel.”

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 4, part 2

We found the guy staggering down the creek. We heard him before we saw him—he was wading through knee-deep water, half hunched over and groaning in pain. As he got closer, I was able to make out that he wasn’t human but crocodilian, and dressed for fishing. His pants had torn away below the knees, and I could make out bright green vines with vermillion buds snaking up his legs. He was bleeding where they burrowed into his hide. He looked up at us with glassy eyes and weakly called for help, reaching out with both hands. 

Automatically I moved to support him but Calder held me back. He told me he recognized the vines as marshbloom, a particularly nasty plant native to Blastfire Bog. An opportunistic parasite, it latched onto any skin that came into contact with it and fed on its host, growing until they were entirely overtaken and drained of their minerals. Once the marshbloom had fed all it could, the buds would open and spread their spores to find new hosts. 

This guy already looked to have been wandering for a couple of days; we didn’t have much time—probably only about another 24 hours. I told Calder to watch after him and make sure he didn’t wander off. Since Calder didn’t technically have skin, we agreed he might be able to physically restrain the afflicted man as a last resort. Meanwhile, I raced back to the cottage to scour my predecessor’s notes.

I found that her overall knowledge of the bog and its flora were spotty at best, but she did have an entry on the marshbloom. Her notes said that it should be treated like any other virulent parasite, but with extra focus on healing the skin. With the entry wounds closed, she noted, the portions of the plant inside the host’s body would be unable to photosynthesize and would simply die, and the portions outside would lose the necessary minerals and fall away.

With a little more research, I knew what I had to get. I dumped out the remaining breadcrumbs from my pack, had Ailean hop up on my shoulder, and set out for Hero’s Hollow.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I told the guards at the entrance that I was foraging and expected to be inside for less than an hour. Then I headed in, map in hand, to find some liquid fire.

It’s not quite lava, this substance (lava is molten rock and this is more akin to superheated magic), but it is quite hot. You need special gloves to handle it. It won’t burn you, but it will certainly feel as if it had. It’s great for clearing parasites if you can get it down—like a flash fire fever. I found it fairly easily, flowing right out of the wall (turns out Hero’s Hollow has a lot of natural deposits), and collected it with little issue. It was as I was headed back out, however, that I heard heavy, clanking footsteps sprinting towards me accompanied by a “what ho!”

I turned and looked to find a suit of armor approaching me fast. The visor was flipped up, showing that the helmet was clearly empty. “I, the Baron, challenge you to a duel, brigand!” The voice sounded more like a jester’s than a knight’s—or a baron’s, for that matter. I backed away and tried to tell this Baron that I really didn’t have the time (or the equipment or the skill) for a fight, but as I said so my back bumped up against the wall. The suit of armor ignored what I’d said, unsheathed its sword (the thin kind with a point, rather than the kind with two sharp sides), took on a cartoonish stance, and cried “en garde!”

I stayed very still for a good long while, and so did the armor. Every few seconds it shouted something like “you shan’t best me, scoundrel!” or “your scourge ends here!” Its accent was all rolled ‘r’s and rapidly fluctuating pitch. After about three minutes of this I finally went to try and just walk away, and the suit of armor immediately lunged forward and skewered my thigh.

I cried out, more out of shock than anything. It was a relatively shallow wound (I wrote “skewered” but it was more like “scraped”), but the sudden movement and prick of pain surprised me. The Baron, for its part, seemed delighted. It immediately turned and began to skip away, occasionally clicking its heels in the air and crying “tee-ha! Tee-hee! I, the Baron, have bested thee!” It disappeared around a bend in the corridor, but I could still hear it for a long while after as I bandaged my wound.

What a blighting nuisance. I supposed though, as I limped out of the dungeon, that it could easily have been a lot worse.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I headed back to Glimmerwood Grove next, to look for wild roses. The hip seeds promote skin health, and I thought they theoretically should be fairly abundant. But, as is my luck, they proved to be frustratingly elusive. I was already pretty annoyed when I ran into Kendre.

Kendre was a satyr, and (as they volunteered immediately upon seeing me) a druid who lived in the forest. Their arms were wiry, the rest of their human torso obscured by what appeared to be a grass-stained burlap sack with arm and neck holes cut out. The fur on their goat legs matched their russet hair. They wore complex jewelry, with earrings and necklaces and adornments to their curled horns all connected by small chains to form one large piece.

I asked how long they’d been living in Glimmerwood and they said just about their entire adult life. They mentioned a shack deep in the heart of the grove where they lived and gardened and kept to themselves. They said they didn’t normally forage this close to town but they were looking for something elusive.

I asked them if they had seen wild roses around and they thought for a moment before saying that roses had been an unusually rare sight this year. They apologized, and offered instead the location of a different plant: the coffee cap. Though unrelated to the bean (it’s actually a mushroom), it does contain about the same amount of caffeine and releases it into the body quicker when consumed. When added to a potion, its only real effect is to sharpen the patient’s senses—not useful for the task at hand. Still, I thanked them and followed their directions to find some—it’s always better to have more and more varied reagents on hand, just in case.

Kendre was the second denizen of Glimmerwood Grove I’d met who seemed to have no connection to the human society in Greenmoor or High Rannoc at large. As I plucked a mushroom and put it in my bag, I wondered if there were any more.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I didn’t have to wonder for long. After retrieving the coffee cap I headed back towards the path. I took a right that should have led me straight back onto it, but instead I found myself in a beautiful (if dilapidated) courtyard. I must have been caught in some kind of dimensional fold, as I surely would have noticed the high, ornate walls that now surrounded me had they been present before.

The walls themselves were ornate but clearly weathered, dotted with tall thin windows and covered with hanging moss and climbing vines. The floor was made of smooth bricks that must have once been an intense shade of lapis or ultramarine, but that had faded to a (still gorgeous) azure. They were cut and laid in a pattern that was symmetrical but irregular. It took a good bit of staring for me to realize it depicted the phases of the moon, running from right to left across the space’s center. At the corners of the courtyard were raised plant beds that may have once been carefully maintained, but now grew wild. Each had a great tree at the center. Three of them had a least one side that had cracked or buckled, allowing dirt to spill out and their tree’s great roots to spread less impeded. The fourth one, the one in the far left corner, held a smaller tree, mostly obscured by—to my surprise and delight—wild rose bushes!

I began to hurry towards them before the sound of a clearing throat stopped me. I had completely overlooked what was clearly meant to be the courtyard’s central feature: along the far wall was a great, ornate throne. It gleamed golden in the light, its high back intricately molded with dozens of humanoid figures in myriad combinations and contexts—probably recounting the plot of some long-forgotten myth. Seated on the throne, still regal and imposing despite being dwarfed by it, was a man. As I approached him I realized he was much taller than me, or for that matter any human. His skin was extremely pale, his form rake thin, his hair a nearly-white blond. He was dressed in a garb unfamiliar to me, though the dense ornamental fur of his cloak and the rich purple of his tunic and pants communicated his status anyway. He regarded me cooly with orange eyes as I took in the sight. Finally, I noticed his long, pointed ears and it clicked: this prince was an elf.

Belatedly I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. I hoped that was the correct gesture of respect for elven royalty; it had been many years since I took politesse classes in primary school, and I’d never had much use for what I learned from them before.

He chuckled and told me to rise. His voice, though a fairly high tenor, had a commanding sense of depth. He told me it had been far too long since he’d had a visitor, and I should feel welcome to stay as long as I like. I asked for his name, and he raised an eyebrow before telling me I could not have it, but that I could refer to him as His Majesty, the Crown Prince of Sovereign Go’ed-Wigg. I quickly apologized for my careless wording, and told him he could call me ‘F.’ Given the Crown Prince’s care with his own name I figured care of my own was in order. I decided to let it be ambiguous whether this was an initial, a random pseudonymous letter, or if I had chosen “Eff” as a name.

I asked the Crown Prince (as I decided to think of him because that full title was simply too much) if I might have one of his roses, so that I could heal a patient. He thought for a moment then said I could on two conditions: I had to give him a gift in return, and I had to listen to a story. I told him that my patient’s time was limited, but that so long as the story was of a reasonable length (I believe I specified no more than fifteen minutes), and so long as I myself got to choose my gift to him I would be happy to agree to those terms. His expression was unreadable enough that I couldn’t determine whether I’d wiggled my way out of some trick or not, but he conceded my conditions.

As the gift, I gave him the coffee cap I’d just obtained, and explained its uses. He told me he had heard of coffee caps before, but seemed satisfied with the gift anyway. He said with my limitation we wouldn’t have time for the full story, but he’d tell me the first part anyway. I can’t recount the Crown Prince’s exact wording—he spoke for a long time—but I’ll summarize as best I can.

Once (he told me), there were three queens. A queen of spades, who ruled over those things on the earth, a queen of diamonds, who ruled over those things below it, and a queen of clubs, who ruled over those things above. The queen of spades and diamonds neither one had a king, but each had one knight. The queen of clubs had no knight, though she did have a king—but he was perpetually absent.

The realm of the queen of spades was verdant and teeming with life, both plant and animal. The queen of clubs’ domain was bright and open and free, always fresh and always changing. The queen of diamonds, on the other hand, ruled a territory rich with minerals, precious metals, and gems, which all things that lived would eventually join as they decomposed and returned to their base materials.

The queen of diamonds, though, was uncaring of these gifts. She surveyed her realm and saw rot, slimy worms and scuttling insects, and tons and tons of dirt piled so much upon itself that there was barely room for plants or animals at all. She looked over the queendom of spades and the queendom of clubs, and all the light and life and variety and air they had, and she grew jealous. She resolved to take the other queens’ territories for herself.

The queen of diamonds knew that going to war immediately would be foolish. Her two rivals (the queen of spades especially) had dozens of subjects in fighting shape, and she had next to none. So, she worked on expanding her population. She promoted immigration, emphasizing the riches to be found in her domain. With her (previously unmentioned) magical powers, she engineered those denizens she already had over the course of generations into stronger, smarter, better fighters. She was raising an army.

What the queen of diamonds didn’t know was that her knight and the knight of spades were in love. They kept their affair hidden from their respective queens for obvious reasons, but met in secret regularly. Wishing to limit the chance that they might have to meet in battle personally, the knight of diamonds told the knight of spades what the queen was doing.

The knight of spades took this information to his own queen, who thankfully didn’t probe too deeply into how he’d learned it. Instead, she immediately set about raising an army of her own, and passed the information on to the queen of clubs personally.

The queen of clubs, then, faced a rather pressing issue: like the queen of diamonds, she did not have enough subjects in fighting shape to raise an army. Unlike her counterpart, however, she did not have several generations’ notice with which to rectify that weakness—nor did she even have a knight of her own.

So, after obtaining permission from her new ally, she searched far and wide in the domain of the queen of spades to find a champion, one who could inspire their peers to fight their hardest, with the knowledge to select the generals and lieutenants and foot soldiers who would be able to defend her queendom.

And find one she did. The champion was such an effective leader, so adept at rallying people to follow her with true deep-seated conviction for the cause, that she would come to be known as the queen of hearts.

It was at this point that the Crown Prince stopped and gestured to the rose bush. I realized that I’d become so thoroughly engrossed in his story that I’d lost track of time, and I was thankful I’d thought to set a time limit. He sensed this too, and as I went to pluck a rose hip he asked if I was enjoying the story. I asked him in turn where he’d learned it. He said that he was the only one in the world who knew it. I asked if he meant he’d made it up, and he didn’t respond.

Instead, he said I’d have to come back later to hear more of it. I told him I didn’t even know how I’d gotten here in the first place, much less how I’d return, but he insisted that I’d find my way. As I left the courtyard, he turned his attention back to the mushroom I’d given him, turning it over and over in his hands.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I was just about set to head back to Calder’s stream when I realized something all of a sudden: I couldn’t touch my patient, which meant I wouldn’t be able to force him to swallow the potion—he’d have to do it voluntarily, without spitting it out or spilling any. Liquid fire, one of my major ingredients, was notoriously both very hot and very spicy, making it difficult to stomach. I would need something to cover the taste. I remembered that I had the candy rock back at the cottage, but I was honestly closer to Moonbreaker Mountain. So, I decided to just run over and find some on my own.

I took a path I hadn’t been on before. About halfway up the mountain, I came across Mòrag McKinney, knelt at a shrine. It took her a long time to notice me, but when she did she smiled and bade me sit down next to her. She told me this was a shrine to Cernunnos, the antlered god of nature, hunters, druidry, fertility, and warriors. She said those going on journeys often placed offerings at it hoping for his favor. I asked if she was going on a journey and she said no, she’d just started coming here recently. Something about it called her.

She traced little circles in the dirt with her finger as she told me about Cernunnos, his ability to call animals to him, how wild-growing plants were considered his bounty. I had heard of Cernunnos before, even if I hadn’t studied him closely, but I let her speak. When she was finished, I apologized and told her I was on a deadline. I asked her where I might find the candy rocks. She seemed disappointed to see me go, but directed me a little ways up the path. I hurried off and found a large cluster easily. The rocks (crystals, really) were extremely brittle—I could break off a good-sized chunk with my hand. Once I’d done so, I hurried back to Calder’s river.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

Here is how I made the potion:

First, I crushed the rose hip seeds with my travel mortar and pestle.

Then, I collected some water (Calder was kind enough to let me borrow a bit of his)

Then, I combined it with the seed powder, liquid fire, and candy rock.

Finally, I shook it until it was all combined.

I decided to call the potion Bog’s Bane—a fitting enough name, as it ended up looking like orange mud. My crocodilian patient was staring vaguely off into the distance, so I gave the potion to Calder so he could help get it down. Once he’d finished it, the patient gasped and his eyes unclouded. Already the visible vines crawling up his legs were withering, their yellow buds falling off. I told him he ought to go see Dr. Ardor-Knox in town, and to tell them that he was seriously drained of vitamins and likely anemic. I didn’t know if the doctor had the requisite knowledge of crocodilian physiology to treat him, but I figured sending patients their way might help smooth things over with them. The crocodilian was still a bit out of it but seemed to understand well enough. He paid me for the potion and stumbled off in the direction of Greenmoor.

When he was gone, I turned to Calder to apologize that my work had cut our picnic short. He said to think nothing of it—the man would have stumbled into his creek anyway, so it was good that someone who knew how to treat him was present when he did. Nevertheless, I asked if we could have a do-over soon, and he said he’d like that.

It was far too late by that point for anything further to happen (though if it’s not wishful thinking there was certainly some tension), so I resigned myself to trudging back home. Now that I’ve recounted the day's events, I’m going straight to bed. Here’s hoping that tomorrow isn’t quite so hectic.

⇦●〇●⇨

[clockworkgraystairs]

Christmas Dinner || Jurdan X-mas in July

AHHHH there is more Christmas!Jurdan!!!!!!!!! 🎄🎄

Rating: T

Summary:  The Duarte's are hosting their Christmas dinner and Vivi sets a trap for Jude to bring his boyfriend and introduce him to the family.

I guess this can be considered a little prequel to You got me trippin? 

This is also my first time posting somethin in 1st person sooo...let’s see how it goes lmao

Tags:  @jurdannet @jurdannetrevels @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @sweetlyvillainous @aesthetics-11 @thesirenwashere @jurdanhell @demydreamer-otaku-and-book-lover @nightbringer @b00kworm @mysweetvillain @thefolkofthefic @yafandomsdotnet @vanessa172003​

[if you wish to be tagged/untagged or if I forgot to tag you pls let me know!]

A massive thank you to Becca @sweetlyvillainous​ for betaing this for me!! Love u 🧡

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This is a terrible, terrible idea I keep repeating myself.

If I’d shown a little more steadiness with my sister I wouldn’t be in this situation. I knew she was nervous about presenting her girlfriend to the family, specially to our father. And because she is extra as hell, she couldn’t choose another date that wasn’t on Christmas Eve. For weeks now she’d been texting me, grumbling about how was she going to be able to pull it off. I told her to relax and just go with it.

What I didn’t expect though, was for Vivi to arrive out of nowhere to the school where I work, talking nonsense about me bringing a fake date to dinner with hopes of taking the attention away from her. 

After spending 15 minutes trying to convince her it is not necessary for me to do that, her insistence is such I end up babbling how bad that idea is since I already have a boyfriend, and fake dating someone else would certainly create problems.

Big mistake.

Looking at me with something like betrayal in her eyes, now she starts questioning me about that boyfriend who I’d never talked about before. I bite my lip. When it comes to personal stuff I prefer to keep it private, even with my own family. I have my reasons. 

And just because luck is not on my side today, in the middle of her inquiries I hear a faint “Hey, babe!” behind me. I groan. Of course. Of course he had to arrive in that moment. 

We both turn to look at him. Cardan approaches us wearing that mischievous grin reserved only for me, so different from the polite smile he uses with his students. His hair is tied up in a bun as he also wears it for work, few curls escaping it in the most adorable way. 

With a pang of panic, I notice Vivi noticing how dumbfounded I’m looking at him. Her eyes light up in a way that I know means nothing good. I frown at her. 

“I was looking for you on the cafeteria, one of your students told me you were here.” He pauses. “I- didn’t notice you were busy though, sorry.”

“Not at all!” Vivi says with exaggerated enthusiasm. “I’m Jude’s older sister, Vivi! You must be her lovely boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah I am. Nice to meet you!” If I didn’t know him so well I wouldn’t notice the slight blush on his cheeks or the way he looks at me in contained alarm.  

It’s too late by the time I put the pieces together. When I realize what is about to happen, my sister is already handing Cardan a rolled piece of paper.

“I came to make sure Jude invites you to our family Christmas dinner! She’s so absentminded sometimes isn’t she?” 

I’m going to kill her. Slowly.

Horrified, I stand there and see Cardan take the invitation, grinning. His polite, charming smile.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” He says. “Thank you so much Vivi.”

My sister turns to me and whatever look it’s on my face makes her hesitate. Although, not enough. She claps her hands once and makes an excited squeal. “Well I must go now! But I’m so excited you’re coming to join us Cardan, see you there. Ciao!”

With that she turns and leaves.

-

So here we are. My boyfriend driving by my side, as we are about to arrive to my parent’s house.

My knee bounces without control as I twist my scarf between my fingers. At any moment now, I’m sure my heart is going to bolt out of my chest. 

“Jude dear, is everything ok?” He asks. I notice I’ve been quiet almost the entire road.

I turn to look at him. He looks dashing, even if it’s not a strictly formal dinner he always finds a way to dress as it was. Black ensemble and green scarf that stands out his pale skin, though his nose and cheeks have a touch of color because of the cold weather. 

“Yeah it’s just... My family is a little,” I pause. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

We are not the type of family that introduces romantic partners, ever. My twin sister tried to do it some years ago with a terrible and embarrassing outcome. At some point in the middle of breakfast, she’d asked her daddy to pass the salt. Both our father and Locke moved to grab it at the same time. What came next, well… if that Locke dude had restrained himself to make a sarcastic and really tacky comment about it, maybe he would still be welcome in the house. Alas, he is not. 

Ever since that day, every time someone brings a guest to the house my father gets in a mood that is pretty uncomfortable for everyone. Sooner or later he makes everyone run.  Not exactly the first impression I want Cardan to have. 

We’ve been together for some time now, about eleven months. But the topic of introducing our families has never been on the table so far. I know he comes from a problematic family even if he doesn’t talk much about them. As for me, I have to admit I’ve grown so attached to him that I’m terrified of Madoc, or any other of my relatives, scaring him away.

He takes my hand in his, warming it, and smiles softly. “It’ll be ok. Breathe.”

I sigh, hoping he’s right and grip his hand tighter.  

The inside of the house looks as if Santa’s bag had exploded. There are lights and ornaments everywhere. Even the tree is bigger than previous years. A delicious smell of food fills the place. As I stare in awe I hear voices coming from the living room.

“Jude? Is that you?” Hurried steps sound in the wooden floor and a few seconds later my little brother appears wearing an absurd red and white onesie. He crashes against me and I laugh, hugging him back.

“You do realize that’s for little kids don’t you?” I ask. “It looks good on you, though.”

Oak scoffs and pulls back. “Well of course it does. I look good on everything.”

Cardan chuckles next to me and for the first time my brother notices him. His eyes and mouth open widely, blinking at him and then turning back at me. Once. Twice.

“Jude,” He murmurs. It cracks me up how shy he can get around new people. “Who’s this?”

Ah, here we go. I take a deep breath and grab Cardan’s hand again. 

“Don’t be rude,” I warn him. “His name is Cardan. Cardan, this is my brother Oak.”

Cardan greets him, extending his hand to him. Oak shakes it, visibly puzzled. “And Cardan is…?”

“My boyfriend.” 

A slow, mocking and devilish smile spreads on his face. I swear to god that kid was taken out from the movie Cheaper by the Dozen. All the shyness is suddenly gone.

“You and Vivi are really trying to give dad a heart attack today aren’t you?” He turns to Cardan and adopts a serious expression I almost believe. “Please tell me Jude doesn’t call you daddy.”

“OAK!” I hiss. I look at Cardan and he gazes back with amusement, I notice he’s biting back a laugh. 

“WHAT? I need to know earlier if I need to take my phone out, last time I didn’t have time to record when dad…” He motions with his hand. Yeah, I remember.

“She doesn’t.” Cardan affirms. Mimicking my brother’s mischievous smile he asks. “Is there a story there I need to know?”

Oak hesitates, even though I’m sure he’s dying to spill it out.

“Taryn would kill you.” I remind him.

“She’s not coming. For what I’ve heard, either it’s Locke’s turn to visit his family or something about dad running him under the car if he dared appearing. I’m not sure.”

Great. 

“What if I beat you at Mario Kart?” Cardan asks, pointing at the console resting next to the tv. 

Oak squints at him. “Are you challenging me?”

“It’s not a challenge when I know I’m going to win.”

Turning to me, my brother grins. “I like him.”

-

I know this is the first time I’ve brought someone home, but still I don’t know if I should be offended at my parent’s surprised faces. Oak had to tell my mother twice that Cardan is my boyfriend before she nods in understanding.

On his side, Cardan is being the full gentleman. To be fair he always is, but I notice the extra effort he’s doing today. It warms my heart. The only sign of nervousness I notice in him are occasional deep breaths he takes when he thinks no one is watching.

We get to meet Heather too, who is adorable and I honestly don’t know how on earth she fell in love with my lunatic sister. In a matter of minutes Cardan is already friends with her which helps with her evident tension. Vivi seems to relax as well. 

Christmas music plays on the background as we eat. This is probably my favorite part of the evening. Don’t get me wrong, I love gatherings with my family but food calls me on a spiritual level. Cardan knows it too, chuckling at my excitement while I’m serving us mashed potatoes. 

“So, Cardan.” My father starts, serving the wine. My heart leaps in my chest, oh no. “You met my daughter at work?” 

He nods. “Yes sir, I arrived there about two years ago. I teach preschool and first grade.” Winking at me he adds. “Jude used to hate me.”

Madoc turns to me, frowning. “What happened?” I roll my eyes, classical worried dad.

I take a long drink from my wine and shrug. “Nothing, he stole the ‘best teacher award’ from me, on his first six months. I’m pretty sure he bribed the students that year.”

To my surprise, my father barks a laugh. We all stare at him wide-eyed. 

“Keep repeating that to yourself, love.” Cardan teases. “It was a clean triumph.”

“You’ve always been competitive Jude, that’s no secret.”  Vivi adds. “It’s nice to finally meet someone who can pull up with that.”

I turn to glare at her. You and I are going to talk later. She sticks out her tongue at me. 

“Do you guys have sex?” 

“Oak!” My mother shouts as my father and I both choke on our wine.  

-

When Cardan parks the car outside my apartment it’s already past midnight. 

Surprisingly, this turned out to be one of the best Christmas celebrations I’ve ever had. My boyfriend somehow managed to not only avoid any uncomfortable moments around my family but also to wrap them up around his little finger. With jokes and tales about us the night had passed incredibly fast. 

Toasts were made, hugs and gifts were given. By the end, we were sprawled on the floor wearing silly sweaters and watching the merciless Mario Kart match between Oak and Cardan. It ended up in a tie. Rematch was already set for New Year’s Eve.

It was everything I never thought it would be.

“Well, did Vivi’s plan work?” Cardan asks.

I turn to find him already looking at me with a knowing smile on his face. Still, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“C’me on, you weren’t really planning on inviting me to your family’s dinner. Something was surely going on the day she gave me the invitation.” 

Sighing I whisper. “I’m sorry.” 

He knows me too well, more than I even know myself sometimes.

“Don’t be, it’s not a topic we usually discuss.” He shrugs, reaching my hand with his. His thumb makes slow circles on my skin “Still, I should’ve asked if it was ok with you. Forgive me if I crossed a line.”

“You didn’t. I just wasn’t planning for you to meet my family yet.” I regret those words the moment they leave my mouth, knowing how they sound. Cardan doesn’t let go of my hand but he stops his ministrations. “Wait, that wasn’t…”

“Jude, it’s ok.” He says, turning to the windshield. I know him well enough too, and notice the touch of sadness behind his words. 

“No it’s not. Please listen.” I insist, my heart is beating fast now. That look on his eyes is exactly what I tried to avoid the whole night. “The reason why I wasn’t thinking to introduce you to my family is that they’re ridiculously hard and annoying with every new person that visits. And this is the first time I took someone home and…I don’t know, I-”

“You thought I’d leave?” He turns his gaze back to me, warily. 

At the beginning of the day I did. But I don’t find the words to admit it, so I don’t answer.

After a moment of silence he asks “Do you want to know why I agreed to go?”

I swallow and nod. Cardan inhales deeply..

“We’ve been together for some time now. And you know, you must know, I’m not playing around Jude.” I start to say something but he silences me with a soft finger against my lips.  “I love you. If I agreed to whatever scheme your sister had in mind it was because I wanted to show you that I’m not going away. No matter what.”

“My family…”

“They love you. It’s only natural for them to ask what my intentions are… and maybe tease us about it too. I’m willing to admit your dad is a little scary. But not enough to make me run away.” He winks, cupping my face.“There is nothing on earth that would make me want to run away, Jude. That’s how much I love you.”

Feeling my eyes sting I blink. “I love you too.”

We’ve said those words before. But I find that they acquire a different meaning, somehow deeper. My chest is suddenly too small to hold everything I feel for this man. He’s not going anywhere. He loves me. I’m grinning like an idiot and I’m proud of it. 

I lean to rest my forehead against his. “Since it’s our first Christmas together… and you already met my family.” His smile widens at that. “Would you like to stay the night?”

“There’s nothing I would like more.” Cardan angles his head to give me a kiss that I accept gladly, coiling my arms around his neck.  “I usually spend Christmas alone, I guess it’s time for new traditions.”

We remain entwined for some minutes, it fastly turns into something hotter and desperate. I’m already straddling his hips when I pull back a few inches. I bet my lips are as swollen as his. He is looking at me with hunger… and love.

“How about a tradition in which we spend Christmas night undressed and watching some crappy Netflix movies?” I suggest.

My toes curl when he leans to bite my lobe and purrs. “Yes, please.”

[fvrxdrm]

City of the Living Dead

Chapter 6

"September 28, 2:30 am... It's down to just me and 3 others. No weapons...no ammo...and too many skirmishes have drained us mentally and physically. We're not gonna make it... Officer Phillips once suggested we escape through the sewers. Apparently, there's a secret tunnel under this place left over from its museum days. I brushed her idea off before, but now, it's not sounding all that bad. Yeah, there's no proof there's even a tunnel or that the sewers aren't infested with zombies, but I don't wanna sit here and wait to die, either. It's a long shot, but I'm gonna try to find out what I can about that tunnel... Elliot Edward," you read, "Shit. Rest in peace, buddy." You placed the transcript back to where you found it and proceeded in scanning the room you and Leon were in.

It was an office of some sort with mahogany desks occupying the center, swivel chairs pointing towards every direction, some paperworks piled in a stack and some (or rather most) cluttered all over the tables and floor. It looked like a hurricane together with an earthquake and a tsunami clashed and crashed in the area.

"Leon, w-" your head twisted and turned as you looked for best friend and even called out to him when you found him just staring at something on the ceiling, his trembling lips pinned in between pearly-white teeth, eyebrows furrowed upwards, and eyes looking like a dam was about to breakdown because of too much pressure. You went towards where he was standing and followed his gaze. You gasped. He was looking at stringed triangle banners with letters printed out on each of them

WEL COME LEON

Your face began to mirror Leon's but a pained smile differentiated yours from his as a sudden rush of memory enlightened your brain. "Hey, look, the design's the same as the banner I surprised you with when we were 15," you said, raising an arm to point at the triangular flags.

Leon chuckled softly at what you said and nodded while a sneaky tear flowed down his cheek in a tiny stream. "Yeah."

"Come on, Leon! I worked hard for this." You hauled on your friend's wrist and led him towards his room with a strain as Leon's languor held him back.

"This better be good, Y/N. You fucking woke me up and I'm really close to fucking strangling you." His voice was a little hoarse from having just woken up right before you pulled him off of the couch and he was still lowkey tired because of the three-hour rest he had last night, but as much as he wanted to throw you out of his house and fall into a well-deserved slumber again, he was into surprises and was curious as to what you had in store. So, he went along with it even though he was pretty much a sloth still.

"I promise you'll love it." You chortled.

Leon sighed in defeat before loosening up and letting you pull him towards where you wanted to take him for this so-called surprise with a rub of his crusty eyes.

When a familiar door came into view in front of you, you covered Leon's eyes with one of your hands and twisted the door knob, revealing a bedroom with a banner hovering over Leon's messy bed, before lightly pushing him inside.

"All right, here we are," you spoke as you removed your hand from your face, moving right beside him to watch Leon's face as it shifted from being enraptured to crestfallen real quick. You guffawed in a boisterous way at his reaction and plummeted down to the ground whilst clutching your stomach in a joyful pain.

YOU SUCK LEON

"Really, Y/N? This-this is what you wanted to show me?"

"It's true though, you actually suck!"

"Come on, you know you only won in Street Fighter because I let you," he whined. You stood up from being laid on the floor before clutching onto Leon's shoulder for dear life.

"For 20 times? Really?" You laughed again, "nah, you just suck, bro."

Leon narrowed his eyes at you with lips pressing tightly in a thin line and turned towards you, his feet moving slowly in tandem as he approach you with a spurious anger, his hands closing into fists.

"What?" You asked with a nervous chuckle and feet backing up in rhythm with his laggard advances.

"You think I suck?" His voice imitated a dark tone. Had you not been slightly scared - which you hated to admit - you would've busted a gut at how ridiculous it sounded.

"I mean, yeah, it's already said in the banner, dimwitt."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Well, let's see who sucks now!"

Welp, that's my cue!

You dodged Leon's attack by the skin of your teeth, stumbling on a stupid pencil for a bit, before proceeding to run around the house to avoid Leon's "spider fingers" as you call it and making a tiny bit of a mess. However, your luck has gone away and he eventually caught you when you accidentally tripped over the leg of a chair, throwing you into his bed and tickling each spot that would make you squirm and and laugh.

"I still suck, huh?"

"N-no, fine...y-you don't...s-suck," you cried in between heavy breaths and hysterics. Satisfied with your remark, Leon stopped his fingers from moving and plopped down beside you, taking a moment to catch his breath before he pulled you closer to his body and spooned you. "You still couldn't win yesterday though."

"Yeah, well, I know a million ways to win your heart though."

"Fuck off, Le-le." Leon tsked at the nickname.

"Y/N, that sounds awful as fuck."

"Whatever." You felt his lashes kiss the nape of your neck as he closed his eyes to give them another four hours of rest, your own following afterwards when you heard Leon's muffled voice vibrate against your shirt.

"Hey, you wanna be my date for homecoming?"

"I thought you already asked Lexee to be your date."

"Dante already asked her out, so..."

"Okay, fine, I'll be your date." You squeezed his hand before intertwining your fingers with his and smiling when you felt him kiss your hair.

"Thanks, Y/N. Good night."

"It's 10 in the morning, dumba-"

"Shh... Rock-a-bye baby..."

"You do suck though." You light-heartedly nudged Leon's side and wrinkled your eyes in a grin, chuckling when he returned the gesture with a titter.

"I really don't," he retorted back.

"Sure." You took his hand in yours and gently squeezed it in a comforting way to ease the two of you before placing a feather's kiss on the back of it. "Come on, we still have a job to do."

*****

Leon S. Kennedy, we're putting you on a very special case for your first assignment. Your mission is...to unlock your desk! The key to your success is in the initials of our first names. Input the letters in order of our desks. There are 2 locks- 1 on each side of your desk. Make sure you get them both. Basically, your first task is to remember your fellow officers' names, but you figured that much out, right? Good luck, Leon. By the way, it might take a little work to get Scott to give you a straight answer.

Lieutenant Branagh

Scrawled in a corner between drops of blood on the paper was an additional note the lieutenant had written while he and his fellow officers were isolated and trapped, and it read:

Be glad you're not here, rookie.

"Remember your fellow officers' names..."

"I think that means the initials of my supposedly co-workers' names should be the password to open these locks on my desk." Leon stood up from where he was knelt down on the floor and casted around from desk to desk, unlocking the padlocks on his table and claiming the prize after accomplishing his "first assignment" - a magazine for his beloved Matilda.

You smiled when Leon pulled out the gun he's had since the beginning of his adult years, another retention reminding you of the peaceful days you once had before you started walking right into confusion.

Matilda was a gift Leon's father had given him on his 18th birthday, a few months before he died of cancer. He was happy about it, and knowing how his family had supported his decision on him becoming a cop, his heart fluttered inside and he couldn't be more grateful about it. Leon held onto it everyday, even becoming a bit hesitant about leaving it behind whenever he went to school. And when his father passed away because of said illness, he grasped onto the weapon the same way he did when his dad was still alive, if not more.

"Happy birthday, Leon. Happy birthday, Leon. Happy birthday, happy birthday... Happy birthday, Leon... HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEON!"

Leon's cheeks stretched in an almost painful way as everyone erupted into cheers and confetti fell from the ceiling. Each person was wearing cone-shaped hats and the living room was decorated with different ornaments colored in his favorite hues. His family was there and so were his friends, and oh, how could he almost forget...

It was his 18th birthday!

"So, what do you think?" You spoke from behind him. He turned around to see you smiling like an idiot and tugging on the string of a party you picked up from the floor.

"This," he began. "This is amazing! Wh-"

"Well, son, the candle's almost melting. Wanna make a wish?" Leon's dad emerged from behind the small crowd with a three-layered cake balanced on top of his palms. The icing of the pastry was blue, edible police-related finishing touches garnished it with such perfection he almost didn't want to eat it for the sake of admiring and staring at the cake, and a single candle formed into the number 18 as an emphasis to his recent age was placed on top with a tiny flame dancing around in the air. Leon closed his eyes and wished for the best before blowing the candle, watching as the fire disappeared into a swirling smoke. Everyone rejoiced once again.

When voices had began dying down one by one, Leon's father called his name and picked up a box from underneath the table after placing the cake down where it wouldn't fall down.

"Leon, you're going to be attending the police academy soon and in the next few years you'll be the cop you always wanted. So, as a gift, I give you this gun." He opened the rectangular cardboard box where a gun laid and presented it to his child, Leon's eyes sparkling in delight at his very own weapon. "I know you'll be taking good care of Matilda."

"Matilda?" Leon asked in confusion.

"You know, like, Mathilda from Leon: The Professional," his dad replied. Leon chuckled in response before he carefully took the gun out of its container, still a bit iffy about touching it.

"I'll be taking good care of this, dad."

"I know you will."

"You still have that gun?" You spoke as you gestured towards his firearm.

"Yep, she still looks good as new. I didn't want to break my promise," Leon responded. He turned his gun around to show you just how much he kept it safe like a mother would to a child. Your E/C orbs twinkled in admiration, a feeling in your heart you had kept for a very long time flittering in a joyous manner for the first time since you last saw him.

"Nothing's really changed, huh?"

"I don't want to change anything for now...especially now that you're back here with me."

*****

So, I found this image on google and an idea suddenly popped into my head lmao.

Anyway, WE'RE BACK! I was busy in school blah blah blah. I think yall know that already.

[seasidewriter1-writes]

Secret valentine exchange of some sort for Canon era lol (does Canon era make sense? I don't think that's the right terminology but whatever)

I got carried away, this is at least 1K in length! I got to do some fun research about Star Wars holidays, and I thought this fit closes to Valentine’s Day!

Fete Weeks on Coruscant were celebrations that Elara had grown to both love and look forward to each year. They were colorful and lively, and the entire planet celebrated, all the way down to Level 5. It created a kind of comradery that was wholly unique to the citizens of Coruscant. Rivalries between shop owners fell to the wayside. Rival criminal families called a week long truce. Unlikely friendships were formed between strangers, some of which lasted for years afterwards. The types of festivities varied depending upon what Fete was being celebrated. For example, whenever the Festival of Stars came around, it wasn’t uncommon to find flashy speeders cruising the city in impromptu parades. The Festival of Life often involved the exchange of meaningful gifts, but it was the celebration of loved ones that made it Elara’s favorite Fete.

This was the first Festival of Life after the start of the Clone Wars, and it felt particularly poignant. They’d been at war for just about a year, now, and life seemed all the more precious. Being with your loved ones seemed all the more special. And though Coruscant had remained largely unscathed by the war––save for its occasional Senate scandal––its peoples seemed to feel much the same. For this Festival of Life was the most vibrant, energetic one that Elara had ever witnessed. People flooded the streets in droves, music spilled out of almost every shop front, and laughter and smiles were plentiful.

“We’re lucky not to have missed this,” commented Obi-Wan.

With a bright smile, Elara bobbed her head in a nod. “I was worried we would,” she admitted. Both she and Obi-Wan stood observing the Fete crowds from the balcony of a tea house. It was nearing sunset, so the light was positively golden. “I’m glad we didn’t; it makes me feel… hopeful.”

After what had felt like week after week of violence, seeing beings of all sorts embrace and laugh and exchange gifts was heartwarming. A reminder that there was still good in the galaxy; and that, one day, things could be good again. There didn’t have to be blaster fire and explosions and death all the time. That folks exist beside one another in peace. It gave Elara hope that there would be more days like this, where she and Obi-Wan could sit side-by-side at their favorite tea house, enjoying one another’s company in quiet bliss. They didn’t have to worry about being Jedi or Generals––they could just be with one another.

“It does, doesn’t it?” There was a smile in Obi-Wan’s voice, one that Elara didn’t have to see to know existed. But she turned to see it anyway. It was soft and gentle, a blissful juxtaposition to the seriousness that so often creased his face. She allowed herself to admire the beautiful regality of his profile, the peacefulness of his expression. These moments were rare and she savored them when they came. This image of him, bathed in the warm glow of golden light, was something she’d cling to in the hopeless heat of battle. It would give her hope.

Elara slipped her fingers into one of the pouches on her belt. Her fingers touched against something thin and cold. She drew it into her palm and squeezed it there, warming the small metal tag against her skin. It was traditional to give gifts to your loved ones over the seven days of the Festival of Light. While Elara appreciated the sentimentality of it, it had never truly been an imperative part of the holiday. Spending time with those close to her had always mattered most. But the Fete felt different this year; and it suddenly felt incredibly important to partake in this tradition.

Elara angled her body so she faced her companion a little better. A small table separated them, leaving only a foot of space between them; but she found that she wished he was closer. “Obi-Wan,” she said gently. He turned towards her, eyebrows gently raised, a smile still playing across his lips. With a smile of her own, she gestured to him. “Give me your hand.”

With a curious look, Obi-Wan offered his hand to her. Elara placed the thin piece of metal into his hand and curled his fingers around it. He drew his hand into himself before opening his fingers once more. What he saw was this: a metal, oblong shaped tag with rounded corners, across the front of which was etched the image of a flower. The Gleannish Snow Blossom. Obi-Wan stared at it a moment before he looked back to Elara, expression impossibly soft.

“This is lovely,” he told her. He looked back to the tag and flipped it over. On the reverse side was a set of carefully etched symbols. “What do these mean?”

“They’re traditional Gleannish symbols that mean ‘my heart,’” Elara admitted in a manner almost endearingly shy.

Obi-Wan’s thumb swept over the symbols, and the most heart warming smile appeared on his face. That smile was turned her way, and it predictably caused her heart to melt. “I shall keep it with me always. A good luck charm.” He smiled back down at the hand-etched tag, which he then placed on the table beside his tea cup. He reached for a pouch on his belt as he said, “I fear this may be entirely underwhelming, now.”

What he pulled out of the pouch was a small, circular piece of gold colored glass. Twine had been threaded through the top of the ornamental piece and created a loop. He then removed a second one from another pouch, this one a bright, vivid red. As he extended them to her, it caught the light and glowed brilliantly. There was a peculiar wrinkling of his forehead––he appeared worried, almost.

“For your window,” he explained. “You… mentioned, once, that the only thing you missed of home were the sunsets.”

A laugh of pleasant surprise left Elara’s mouth. For as harsh as they were, the suns of Tatooine did create spectacular sunsets. There were none like them anywhere else in the galaxy; every other sunset she’d ever seen had paled in comparison. It was one of the very few things she ever felt homesick for. She reached out to take the glass ornaments from him, which she smiled at as she held them up to the light.

“Not underwhelming at all,” she said as she admired the way they caught the light. Elara lowered them to her lap, her smile softening into a lovely, gentle look. The sunsets of Tatooine were something she’d mentioned in passing months ago. The fact that he’d remembered caused a warm, blissful buzz to circulate through her system. “Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan, who looked relieved that she appreciated the gift, held his hand out to her. Elara reached out and slipped her hand into his grasp, reveling in the warmth of his skin and the callouses that roughened certain spots. Their eyes met with that wonderful shock of electricity, and he lifted her hand to his mouth. His lips gently pressed against her knuckles in a sweet, subtle, stolen kiss. Their hands then came to rest on the table between them. These moments were rare. It was hard to get a moment alone together, let alone one where they could be openly affectionate in some sort of way. It felt perfect, somehow, that they were allowed this moment during the Festival of Life.

It reminded them there was still a life to live; and that they were lucky to get to live it with one another.

[always-and-forever-a-killjoy]

Good morning again, I’m back on my bullshit (again) and this time I’m here to drop yet more fluff on you. Yes this is a Christmas time fic, yes it’s July, mind your own fucking business.

Anyways! Have some fucking FLUFF.

Title: There Are So Many Special Things About You

Wordcount: 1530

Summary: It's Fun Ghoul's first Christmas in the Zones, and xe ends up getting roped into way more decoration than xe would really like. But xe also ends up with something that used to feel impossible to find: a family.

Warnings: None, surprisingly!

Taglist: @wishiwasthemoon-tonight @sleevesareforlosers @stressed-depressed-emo-mess @tasteofamnesia (message me, send an ask, or reblog/reply to one of my posts if you want to be added or removed)

AO3 Link

(Actual fic under the cut)

Fun Ghoul didn’t know exactly why xe was at the radio station, but apparently the Fabulous Four’s presence was necessary that particular day. So Party Poison had bundled everyone into the Trans Am and sped through the desert (far too fast, of course, they never drove safely or sanely), and now they were all standing in the living room of Dr. Death Defying’s radio station, waiting for…something.

It turned out what they were waiting for was Dr. D himself, rolling into the room with a tired but fond smile as he addressed them. “Thanks for coming out on short notice- I really need someone to help Cherri with the decorating before he gets himself hurt. He loves Christmas, but I have to keep telling him ‘Cherri, you can’t just run around for days on end making the radio station fancy’. Not that he listens,” he added ruefully.

Ghoul mentally tried to add up the weeks and months since he had arrived at the desert, and concluded that it could reasonably be December or so. Xe didn’t think the killjoys would celebrate Christmas, but then again, most killjoys would take any opportunity for a celebration.

Meanwhile, Poison was shooting Dr. D one of their bright grins. “No problem, D. We’ve got Pepsi’s back, an’ I’m sure Pone will help.”

“Sure will,” Show Pony chirped as ey skated into the room, followed by Cherri Cola himself, who was looking rather ridiculous with his sleeves rolled up and the amount of hair already falling in his face. But he was smiling, brighter than what Ghoul thought was usual for him, and everyone seemed to take that as good enough.

“Hey guys!” He greeted them. “D said you came to help with the decoration, so I’m putting you to work of course.”

“‘Course you are,” Kobra Kid snorted.

Cola just laughed. “So we have these shitty plastic garlands, two strands of lights which mostly work, and an assorted lot of random ornaments. I’m thinking the garlands can go around the radio station, and then we’ll need something to put the rest on.”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no,” Kobra said.

“So I’m getting us a massive tumbleweed!”

Pony cackled, and Ghoul almost started laughing xemself at the look on Kobra’s face. 

“Last time we got a tumbleweed, I nearly died!”

Poison let out their own cackle of laughter. “It wasn’t ‘nearly dying’, dearest brother, it was just you getting tangled in a massive tumbleweed. But if it makes you feel better, this year I’ll go with Pepsi to get the tumbleweed.”

Kobra sulked as Ghoul snickered and Cola grinned. “Thanks, Poison! If the rest of you could get those lights untangled and start hanging garlands, that would be great.”

“Pepsi likes me best now,” Poison declared and walked out the front door before anyone could protest that.

“For the record, I like you all equally,” Cola told them before heading outside after Party. “Wait up, you need me to actually drive the truck!”

Dr. Death Defying chuckled. “Well, I’ll leave you all to the decorating, I’ve got some other things to do. Thank you again for helping out Cherri, I know he appreciates it as well.”

Fun Ghoul ended up helping Kobra detangle and test the varying mismatched lights that Cherri owned, as Jet sat on the floor and patiently sorted ornaments. Pony skated around figuring out where to hang the garlands. Jet was humming under their breath, presumably some sort of Christmas tune, and Pony yowled along, but other than that the room was silent. Strangely so, given the usual loudness of most all killjoys, but no one seemed to feel like breaking the companionable silence. 

Well, that is, until NewsAGoGo showed up.

“What the fu- oh, Cola got out the decorations, didn’t he?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Ghoul offered.

“And let me guess, he took….” She scanned the room. “Party Poison to go get a massive tumbleweed that will fill half our living room and be covered in glitter by the time Pony is through with it.”

“Sure did, and it sure will,” Pony laughed.

“Fuck yeah. Anyways, what do y’all need help with?”

Ey gestured to Jet. “Jet’s sorting ornaments all on their own.”

“Great, scootch over.” She settled next to them as Pony kept skating around, and Kobra and Ghoul kept working on the lights.

Most of the lights ended up working, and Kobra was able to fix most of the ones that didn’t. Ghoul tried to pretend that xe wasn’t peering over his shoulder, curious about how some of the circuitry worked. Xe knew a fair bit about technology, enough to make a fairly passable bomb, but Kobra was just a bit better. Still, xe at least understood most of what he was doing, which seemed like a victory to xem. Jet, meanwhile, had moved on to helping Pony hang the garlands, much to eir delight. 

By the time most of the garlands were up and all the lights worked again, Poison and Cola were back, tromping through the door with a ridiculously large tumbleweed. 

“Merry Christmas, fuckers!” Party hollered. 

Newsie took that as a chance to shout “Merry Christmas yourself, bastard!” 

“I thought I said a small tumbleweed this year,” Dr. Death Defying sighed as he poked his head into the room again, ignoring Newsie and Party. 

“It was the only one I could find,” Cola defended.

“The only one. In the patch you call the ‘tumbleweed zone’. Which is utterly filled with them. And where I know for a fact you were going.”

“Mhm. Yep. The only one.”

“I love you, you Christmas-loving dork,” Dr. D sighed. 

“Love you too, D.” 

Cola and Party navigated the ‘tree’ to one corner, where, as soon as they set it down, Kobra, Jet, and Pony instantly descended on it with decorations. Ghoul glanced at Dr. Death Defying, who gave xem a warm smile and tilted his head at the tumbleweed as if to say ‘go on’. So Ghoul, alongside Party, picked up the remaining ornaments and started decorating.

Xe found that only a few of the ‘ornaments’ appeared to have been originally intended for that purpose, while most of the rest were scraps of paper painted in bright colors or shards of glass with wire wrapped around them to form a little holder. They looked lovely regardless, twinkling in the lights on the tumbleweed ‘tree’ as if they were always meant to be there. They had clearly been made by the careful (and not-so-careful) hands of many killjoys, and now were being placed by even more hands.

Even Dr. Death Defying had joined in on the decoration, although he mostly held back until most all had been placed. Then, he wheeled up, removed one of the brackets from his wrist, and hung it front and center on the tumbleweed. 

Ghoul glanced at the others in puzzlement as Cherri Cola stepped up and repeated the process, followed by Show Pony and then Newsie. Jet shot xem a smile, which was reassuring, but not all too informative. 

“Here, go on,” Cola said, nodding to the Fab Four as Newsie stepped back.

Poison gave a very dramatic gasp, grinning. “Really, Pepsi?” 

“Yes, really.”

“And your husband’s okay with it?”

“Yes, I am,” Dr. D said with a smile. 

Poison stepped up and hung one of their strands of beads on the tumbleweed as Ghoul glanced confusedly at the rest of xyr crew. 

“It’s an old Zones custom, for those who celebrate Christmas, anyways,” Jet told xem in a whisper as Kobra pulled a bracelet off his wrist. “Family members hang bad luck beads or other jewelry together as the last ornaments on a ‘tree’. So they essentially just invited us to be a part of their family.”

“Come on, Jet!” Poison was calling. 

Jet Star offered Ghoul another reassuring smile and approached the tumbleweed, pulling off one of their strands of beads and hanging it by Poison and Kobra’s. 

Finally, it was Ghoul’s turn, and xe felt weirdly nervous about such a small thing as xe fumbled with xyr bracelets. It took xem a moment, but he managed to retrieve the very first strand of bad luck beads xe had been given. 

The tumbleweed pricked Ghoul’s fingertip as xe lowered the bracelet onto the branch with shaking hands, right in the middle of the rest. Xyr hands still refused to hold steady, and he almost knocked off what xe thought was Cherri’s bracelet as xe added xyr own. 

Cherri gave xem his warm smile as xe fumbled to fix it, finally pulling back from the tree to see the rest’s reactions. 

Pony was the first to move, swooping in to plant a kiss on each of Ghoul’s cheeks as Poison grinned at xem.

“Welcome to the family, asshole.”

Ghoul flipped them off. “Love you too, asshole.”

Xe found xemself being completely lifted off the ground by Jet’s hug, and Kobra gave xem a brief nod that seemed to convey roughly the same sentiment as Newsie ruffled xyr hair. 

Dr. D just smiled fondly at them all and took Cherri’s hand. “Merry Christmas, you all.”

“Merry Christmas,” Cherri agreed softly.

“Merry Christmas, gay desert dads!”

[lycorogue]

Perfect Doesn’t Need to be Perfect: Chapter 2

I miss these early chapters. They were easy. They were small. They were still relatively light-hearted. Then chapter 5 happened and I’ve completely lost this project down an angsty rabbit hole. 0.o I’ll try to get that sorted out in the next couple of days.

In the meantime, enjoy one of the short, fluffy chapters.

**Contains Spoilers for Taurus Pixie’s story Twelve Days of Chatmas**

Summary: Chat Noir has run into a long streak of poor luck, all in an attempt to give Ladybug the perfect Christmas gift. Little does he know, his first try was already perfect in Ladybug’s eyes. Now it’s her turn to try to navigate around Chat Noir’s failed attempts in her own pursuit to find something equally fantastic for him. **A Switched-POV Unofficial Companion Story to Twelve Days of Chatmas by @thetauruspixie​**

Rating: General Audience

Chapter Word Count: 1733

Story Total Word Count: 37,973

Status: chapter 2 of 12; complete

**For reals, if you haven’t read Twelve Days of Chatmas yet, read that first so my story doesn’t spoil anything for you. It’s cool. This story will still be here when you get back. ;) **

See below for chapter 2, or find this story over on AO3, on FFN, or on DA. 

CHAPTER 2:

The little pear tree sculpture was worse off than Marinette gave it credit, but it wasn't completely irreparable. She had taken stock of the damage the night before, and made a point of picking up the necessary supplies after school. Now it was time to get to work.

Too much of the foam base was chipped away when the card stock truck was ripped out of it, so she started off with replacing that. Then she carefully bent the trunk back so it was flat. The bad bend left a scarring crease in the base of the trunk, bit it actually looked good. Most trees had some sort of scarring in their bark. Using tracing paper to make a pattern, Marinette cut out two slightly smaller versions of Chat Noir's trunk from more card stock. Doubling up her own tree trunks, she glued them to the back of Chat Noir's to reinforce it. Finally, she made it 3D by adding a support branch of roots off the back. Resting the tree on her desk, it stood perfectly straight on it's own; no foam required.

Confident it was now sturdy enough for the weight of the filled in branches, Marinette got to work on fixing everything else. Using a decorative hole punch, she created a small confetti pile of green almond-shaped leaves out of construction paper. She then laid them out on parchment paper, and sprayed them down with adhesive before taking a deep breath.

“He's lucky I like him.” Through gritted teeth she started shaking the green glitter onto the sticky green leaves. She kept it as close to the project as she could, and she tried to stop once the leaves were properly coated without having too much excess. With any luck, she'd only find glitter for the next week or so.

As the leaves dried she got to work on reinforcing the partridge so its chubby little head wouldn't bend forward from the weight of the wooden beak and note.

The note. Forgetting what she was doing, Marinette gently pushed the clothespin open and released the torn note from the bird's grip. Folded over, the little note was barely larger than a postage stamp. Carefully opening it, Marinette was greeted by tiny but elegant writing; far fancier than she imagined Chat Noir's handwriting to be.

“Wishing the most amazing girl in the world the greatest of Christmases,” Marinette read the note aloud to Tikki. It was signed with a little heart drawn with red ink, and a paw print colored in with green ink. Giggling a little to herself, Marinette tore off two small strips of tape and patched up the tear running through the center of the message. She then tore off one more piece of tape. Flipping through to the next blank page of her diary, she taped the note to the bottom corner. A smile stretched across her face as she rested her palm against Chat Noir's tiny Christmas card.

After taking a beat, she closed up her diary and locked it away in its box. Rolling her shoulders, Marinette got back to work on firming up the partridge and touching up the coloring Chat Noir had done on the bird.

She let all the components dry while she had dinner, but instantly went back to work once she was done. First up was carefully gluing the leaves into place. Her new ones weren't nearly as drenched in glitter, and the shade of glitter was slightly lighter, but the two-toned leaves added a nice dimension to the piece.

She took a homework break while the leaves dried completely, then it was back to work to add on the pears and – she couldn't believe she followed through with it – the heart decorations. She managed to tuck the corners of the pears and hearts between some of the leaves to add more depth to the tree and make the fruit and ornaments look like they were actually nestled inside the tree branches.

As she waited for the tree to dry one last time so she could add the bird back onto its perch, Marinette started up a list; instantly and a bit frustratingly crossing off each item the moment she wrote it down.

She needed to come up with the perfect gift for Chat Noir. He seemed so hurt about his present, and he had put so much pressure on himself to get her the perfect thing that she couldn't fall short in doing the same. He was more precious to her than he realized, and this was her chance to make sure he knew that. She was stumped on what to do though.

Scarves, hats, mittens, shirts, vests, necklaces, earrings, pins; everything Marinette came up with wouldn't work. She was a fashion designer; her default gift for everyone was a piece of clothing or an accessory. None of it was a good idea. Her silly kitty would most likely be too excited about her gifting him something to remember to not wear it as a civilian. Then she could possibly run into him, and see him wearing the gift she made for Chat Noir, and then she'd know his identity, and-

She shook her head to try to get out of the spiral. Even if he was disciplined enough to not wear anything she gifted him while in his civilian form, it wasn't like he could really wear any of it while powered up either. Which meant, either he had to wear it alone in his house and nowhere else, or he'd never use it. That wouldn't work at all.

Blanket? Marinette tapped on the word, circling it a couple of times. That could be the best option for her. People rarely take blankets out of their rooms anyway, so he could use it without her seeing. Plus, it was always comforting to just curl up under a warm and semi-heavy blanket during chilly winter nights. Was it special enough for him, though? Would she have time to make him one? What design should she use for the blanket? Something not too obvious, in case he wanted to use the blanket in communal rooms in his home.

Looking out her window, Marinette knew she needed inspiration. It was time to go to her well.

“Tikki, spots on!”

Less than ten minutes later, Ladybug landed atop an apartment building just four blocks away from the Eiffel Tower. It wasn't the Trocadéro, but unfortunately the park was swarming with tourists this time of year, and she just needed some time to sit and think. It wasn't the same view that usually amazed her no matter how often she saw it, but the Seine still sparkled under the lights of Paris to her left, and the Eiffel Tower still spired before her on the other side of the river.

The sun was sinking below the horizon past the Eiffel Tower, and it cast a purple and deep magenta glow within the overcast sky. Curling up into a ball, Ladybug sat on the roof with her knees pressed against her chest and her chin resting between them. The lights running up the Eiffel Tower turned on in the twilight, and the whole of Paris joined suit. The yellows, blues, oranges, and Christmas reds and greens created a sea of lights below her. It was calming, welcoming, and inspiring.

Warmed by how serene her city looked, Ladybug uncurled. Dangling her legs over the ledge of the roof, she leaned back and admired the Eiffel Tower as it sliced through the cotton candy clouds.

The clouds are kind of blanketing the sky. Could I make something that looks like Paris on a winter's night for Chat Noir? She hummed softly as she pondered how she'd be able to execute something like that. She really fell into the zone as she meditated to the arrhythmic clicking of her swinging feet gently tapping against the side of the building. She could do a gradient fabric, and a quilted stitch so there were pockets of fill to mimic clouds. She could even purposefully avoid a symmetric square quilted look, instead pocketing the fill within a quilt of cloud shapes.

A duet of cooing pulled her attention from her designing. The flapping of wings grew louder, and two pigeons flew straight for her. She flinched and leaned slightly out of the way as they buzzed past her, close enough for her to notice their orange turtle-shell patterned wings and brown-gray bodies. Whatever they were, they weren't regular pigeons. A moment later, she registered that both birds had something gripped within their toes. One was carrying a trio of red roses. Its partner had a handmade card wrinkling slightly in its grip.

Homing pigeons? That didn't quite feel right to Ladybug either, but the duo seemed to be on a mission, so she mentally wished them save travels and hoped they found who they were looking for.

It seemed weird though. Even with Mr. Ramier in Paris, Ladybug didn't recall ever seeing anyone use homing pigeons before. She scanned the rooftops, trying to see who might have released the birds.

Nothing. There was no one on the rooftops nearby. No one on balconies. At first Ladybug was just curious as to who is using the skilled but archaic method of communication, especially with regards to sending what looked like a very romantic Christmas gift. However, after spying not a single soul in the area, it became an intriguing mystery she was itching to uncover.

She wandered her rooftop to try to get a better view, but there were still no clues anywhere. It was like the birds simply appeared. After a couple minutes, Ladybug decided that was a good enough explanation for her. They appeared from nowhere, and vanished to the horizon. They were an enigmatic package carrying a sweet gift for someone. A beautiful mystery of life not meant to be solved.

With a satisfied shrug, Ladybug headed back home, her head filled with fantasies of Adrien sending the pair of birds to her, and the card being a love letter. She giggled at the elation she'd feel if that were true, as well as the insanity of such a thing happening.

Imagine, Adrien Agreste sending Marinette Dupain-Cheng a pair of birds holding a Christmas gift and a declaration of love. A girl could dream.

Thank you for reading. Read Next Chapter

Read from the beginning: Chapter 1

Please let me know if you want me to add you to the tag list.

@discoveringmiraculouswriters

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Love and Honour - Chapter Four

x x x x

Summary: All her life, Johanna had dreamed about serving the royal family as their guard. Now, as she finally reaches her goal, she finds renewed admiration for the Princess Regent, and the feelings might not be as one sided as she imagined...

Notes:  For the first half of this fic Johanna has her hair up in a ponytail, so please do this humble writer a favor and imagine her with an undercut underneath it. Also thank you for the people who read this silly little fic, this was fun!

Read it on ao3: (chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4)

Johanna was woken up even earlier than usual on the morning of the departure. When she felt a hand touching her shoulder and opened her eyes to see one of the members of the princess’s guard who was also coming on the mission, not even the birds had started singing outside yet. She dressed in a hurry, putting on the armour she used everyday and looping the strap of her satchel across her shoulder.

The soldiers that had been picked were gathered on the stables, and Johanna joined them. Ravena had been going over the instructions once more when she arrived, and the carriage had been parked near them so the equerriers could harness the horses to it. The princess’s luggage was already stored in it, and now some servants tied more weapons to the top of it as well. Each soldier had their sword with them, but since it was impossible to know what they would face, Knight Ravena herself had asked them to take the extra weaponry.

“Alright, no time for you to stop for a snack.” Grumbled Erik, who began handing them small bundles. When one of the other soldiers opened his, they saw that there was food inside, bread, an apple and a piece of cheese. “We need you to be alert but you are no use to the princess if you faint.”

Too filled with both anxiety and excitement to eat, Johanna stored her bundle in her satchel and walked towards Ravena. The knight nodded in acknowledgement of her presence when she came near, and Johanna returned it.

“Good morning, my lady.” She greeted. “Is there something I can help with?”

“I don’t think so, you should be ready to part soon. We’re just waiting for the princess.”

As if she’d been summoned by her mention, Johanna heard Knight Ahlberg saluting princess Maven as soon as she turned her eyes away from Ravena. Johanna had to contain her surprise when she realized that the princess wasn’t alone, but rather accompanied by Lady Hilda and both of her parents.

The king was a tall man, strong jawed yet gentle looking at the same time. His hair was as dark as his daughter’s, and his eyes were kind and resolute despite the illness that had struck him. Though now he walked with a cane, hunched over it and with a slow pace, he looked like he had been fierce a long time ago. The queen, on the other hand, wore a veil the same way the princess did. Her features were sharp, and there was something about her that spoke of her intelligence, like an aura of cunning. The two of them had their arms intertwined, and Hilda was holding the princess’s hand.

“Promise us you’ll send a letter when you arrive there.” They heard the king say.

“Yes, and tell us all about it! I heard Freith has the most beautiful lakes!”

Kneeling down to tap Hilda’s nose playfully, Maven smiled at her ward.

“If I happen to pass by one of them in the way, I’ll make sure to describe it to you, Hildie.”

The family members each hugged the parting princess, whishing her good luck and safe travels. After that, they walked back inside the castle, and the princess turned her attention to Knight Ravena.

“Good morning, soldiers.” Both Johanna and Ravena bowed when Maven approached them.

She wasn’t quite wearing a dress that day, her purple skirt was open at the front in a way that allowed for a lot more movement, and under it she was wearing dark grey pants and elegant leather boots. The jacket she was wearing had a light grey tone that contrasted with the darker one of her veil. Her clothing that day was clearly meant to be practical and comfortable rather than ornamental, and Johanna realized that the strong presence she always had wasn’t due to fancy attires at all. She’d look grand even in the most meager of clothings.

“Good morning, Highness. The soldiers are at ready, waiting for your orders.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll part immediately.”

Maven walked away to her carriage, where a servant opened the door for her, but not before giving Johanna a passing smile which left her disoriented for a split second. Before she could return it, the princess was already at the carriage, and Johanna thought that was probably for the best. She must have looked like an excited fool at that moment, anyway.

“Your places have already been decided.” Ravena pointed at the carriage. “The knights will go on their steeds. The princess’s guard was split between sitting with the coach and at the back, watching for any attacks from the rear. You and a warrior from your flock will stay by the sides, in those benches just by the doors. Can you see it?”

She could. They were like small shelves protruding from the carriage, near the windows. having only seen them being used by servants, usually when their lord was attending some sort of social event, Johanna was confused to discover that soldiers would be on them that day. Though she supposed it made sense, since the coach’s bench and the back bench were already full, and using more horses would call too much attention.

“Soldiers, I trust you all to keep Her Highness safe. Stay alert, don’t forget the type of danger you might face, and all will be well. Good travels, and until we meet again.”

After this one last advice to all the soldiers, Ravena excused herself and walked back inside, each one of them taking their designated spot when she did so.

As she sat down, Johanna realized that she could view inside the carriage through the window, but only the empty side. The princess’s window was too close for her to look into unless she actively tried to do so, which, she reminded herself, she had no business doing. It did strike her as curious that the seat she could see was empty, though, considering most nobles took at least one servant with them to their travels. It could be that the princess didn’t have that habit, or it could be another measure to maintain the secrecy of that mission.

That same secrecy was the reason why, instead of heading to the main gates, the group was now going in the opposite direction, to the back of the castle where a smaller opening in the walls would allow them out to a road where they wouldn’t have to pass by the capitol. They had barely been out on the road when the carriage’s window opened, the glass barely missing Johanna’s nose as it slid sideways.

“There you are.” Said Maven, poking her head out of the window to look at the guard. Johanna gasped, not having expected the princess to talk directly to her.

“Don’t worry, even if we pass by anyone they won’t notice me.” The princess assured, but didn’t elaborate. Still confused as to why she was being talked to, but not at all displeased, Johanna felt her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She had no idea of what she was supposed to say, so she was even more grateful when Maven spoke again.

“I wanted to thank you for your gift, miss Johanna. Truly, it is gorgeous.”

Smiling nervously, Johanna tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her short ponytail behind her ear.

“It makes me very pleased to hear this, Your Highness.”

“However, I also wanted to apologize. It seems my ward has played a trick on you.”

Suddenly, those words turned Johanna’s blood into ice. Both the apology and the mention of the princess’s ward spoke of problems ahead. Her worry must have been clear on her face, because Maven’s eyes became sympathetic as soon as she noticed it.

“I was informed that she told you that giving me a token would soften me towards you. It feels necessary to tell you she made that up. Though I did very much appreciate your gift, you are here because of your skill alone and I didn’t want you thinking otherwise.”

The instant blush on Johanna’s cheeks had nothing to do with the rising sun, and she did her best to hide her mortifiement as it grew.

“Why- why would she do that?” Johanna asked and cringed when her voice came out like a squeak. Since she was looking everywhere but at the princess, it escaped her notice when Maven, too, blushed momentaneously as she remembered Hilda’s justification. Her protégée’s aspirations as a cupid didn’t sound like a good thing to reveal.

“She thinks she’s amusing.”

Johanna sighed. “Thank you for telling me, Highness. And forgive me for the… misunderstanding.”

Frowning at the look of defeat in the guard’s face, Maven had to stop herself from reaching out to touch her hand. “Not at all. Truly, there’s no problem.”

Able to do nothing else but smiling shyly at her with gratefulness, Johanna went back to paying attention to the road around them as the princess closed her window. She wasn’t sure if the mishap had been good, since she’d just found out she’d made it into this group through merit alone, or bad, since the princess probably now thought she was an opportunist viper. But one thing was certain. The whole situation was extremely embarrassing, and Johanna knew she’d spend the rest of her day trying to push it out of her mind.

_#_#_#_

They stopped twice during their journey, one time for them to eat and another to stretch their legs. On both occasions, the princess had kept to herself, strolling around the carriage, paying a special attention to the flowers and herbs she saw by the edge of the road. As it told her that the princess must have been made uncomfortable by her presence, there was a part of Johanna’s mind that she forced herself to silence. It was well known that though eloquent, princess Maven didn’t tend to be very talkative, and it would be arrogant of her to assume that that behaviour had anything to do with her at all.

While they traveled, the few wagons and riders that passed by them stared curiously for as long as they could, but soon became intimidated by the number of soldiers guarding the carriage. That was the only job they had as they rode forward, to look imposing enough that no one thought of bothering them.

Tension only arose when the coach informed them that they had crossed the borders, and were now in Silske, a neighboring kingdom they had to cross on their way. The sun was lowering in the horizon, and a member of the princess’s guard, who had been put in charge of the group, informed them that they would soon stop for the night and put up camp. That was only a few minutes before disaster struck.

Their attention was caught by the caravan when it became clear that they were riding their way much too fast. The torches some of the hooded men were carrying made them stand out in the approaching darkness and they were all mounted upon strong and swift horses. A howl in a language Johanna didn’t recognize echoed from them, like a battle cry.

“Lower your pace or we will attack!” Shouted one of their knights. When there was no answer, and the strange group kept advancing towards them on the road, another knight yelled a sentence that Johanna was certain was in that same language as their chant.

It didn’t stop them. Rather than take a more pacific stance, one of the hooded men shot an arrow which hit the shoulder of a horse, the one belonging to the knight that had talked to them in their language, making her fall to the ground and startling her horse. The steed then ran away even as it bled, straying from the road.

All the soldiers drew out their swords. Those who were mounted started galloping in the caravan’s direction, soon engaging in a battle with the men at the front of their group.

Johanna and the other guard that had been chosen from her flock climbed to the top of the carriage, where the weapons were. One of the knights had raised their hand, and Johanna threw them a spear, which they quickly used to take down their opponent.

The two soldiers that had been riding with the coach unsheathed their swords and advanced towards the battle, and Johanna and her peer gave maces to those who had been riding at the back. After that, he grabbed an axe and hopped down to the ground.

“No!” Johanna shouted at him. “You’re just going to crowd the battle front, we’ll be of more use if we shoot at them from here!”

Either he didn’t hear her, or he disagreed, because he lunged forward and joined the cluster. Clanking of metal rang loudly, but not as loud as the blood rushing through Johanna’s veins as she picked up a longbow herself. Kneeling down, it was agony to try to focus with the cries of battle and the beating of her heart in her head stealing her concentration. She was far more apt to join them than she was to be there. Spears and swords came to her like second nature after years of training, but she knew they were outnumbered, and if someone didn’t stop the hooded men that were in the back of their group, they’d simply keep coming even after the soldiers’s strengths were gone.

She took a deep breath and shot her first arrow. It hit the hand of a soldier who had been about to strike one of their knights. She had always been nauseous at the thought of murder, one of the main reasons she’d chosen to be a guard rather than a warrior, but with the princess’s safety at risk, that was no time to think about morals. Her arrows were shot at the fastest rhythm she could, without a mind to whether or not the blow they gave would be fatal.

With her newfound role in that battle, the enemy’s attention was drawn to her, and so were their attacks. A feeling of vertigo washed over her as she dodged enemy projectiles as well as shot arrows of her own, all the while watching her companions fall to the ground.

An arrow hit her armor, nearly breaking through it. She gasped, watching as it fell in the ground beside her, and when she took her attention back to the battle, the last knight had fallen to the floor. Her body froze in horror, even though she curiously couldn’t see any blood flowing from the body of her fallen peers, but she forced her mind to work. If the only thing between these savage warriors and the princess was her, then she’d fight until her last breath.

Among the weapons that remained on top of the carriage, there was a staff, covered in metal and with spikes on its tips. After picking it up, she jumped down to the floor, landing with a clank of her armour. Her focus was in the fight ahead of her, so much that she didn’t notice that the princess, who had opened her window and was looking at the battle, didn’t look terrified as much as she looked mildly concerned.

“Your Highness, have the coach unharness one of the horses so you can escape. I’ll hold them back for as long as I can.”

She didn’t run ahead to meet them, but rather stopped just a step in front of the horses and waited for their attacks. One of the riders quickly engaged her in a fight, and she received no other attacks since his body blocked his companions from going for her. With a lot of strength, she didn’t bulge when his sword hit her staff, and when he lifted it again to try and strike her hands or head, she twirled her weapon, making him fall to the ground.

Hurriedly, she climbed into his horse herself, gaining the leverage to strike the men nearby with the sharp tips of her weapon. They were many, but overall with very little protection, which gave her momentary advantage.

One person could only do so much, however, because with their full force focused on combating her, it didn’t take long for an arrow to scrape her temple, causing pain to explode in her head. One man with a slingshot shot a rock at her, which cut open the skin of her forehead and made blood drip down her face, blinding her when it ran over her eyes.

Disoriented, there was nothing for her to do as her staff was taken forcefully from her hands and used to hit the side of her head, making her vision no longer red, but black as the saddle seemed to slip under her and the ground got closer.

_#_#_#_

She came to her senses with pounding in her head, which was unexpected. She’d thought there would be no pain in the afterlife. Surrounded by white and lying in something comfortable, everything else told her that she was, indeed, dead.

Until she heard chanting from the outside, that is. She lifted her torso up, coming to a sitting position. The whisper she was hearing sounded like complete nonsense, and she couldn’t even recognize it as a language like she had the cry of the hooded men. Johanna ran a hand through her hair, pausing with her finger still on her locks when she realized something was wrong.

Her cuts weren’t hurting. She touched the spots where she’d been hurt, noticing there weren’t even scars left. Getting more confused by the second, Johanna blinked several times and brought her palms to her eye sockets. When she looked around again, her mind was more willing to agree that the white around her looked more like cloth than heavenly light, and she raised her arm to touch it, coming to the conclusion that she was in a tent.

Shakingly, she got up. Already having no idea of how she wasn’t dead, she was certain they hadn’t won their encounter with the hooded men. There hadn’t seemed to be anyone guarding her, so Johanna planned on sneaking out to find the princess, and hopefully taking her to safety again, even though she didn’t think she was in condition to help anyone.

She opened the tent flaps just enough to look outside, covering her mouth to stifle a gasp when she saw the hooded men, lying on the floor and clearly unawaken. There were two other tents outside, smaller than the one she was in and with no light coming from inside them. That was the moment when she realized that there was light coming from her tent, and she looked behind herself to notice that not only were there lit lamps in it, but also two straw mattresses, one of which she’d been lying on, and a travel bag. On the other mattress, there was a piece of light grey cloth.

There were no weapons around that she could see, so even though it didn’t feel quite like a wise decision, she stepped out into the night, her fists clenched in front of her to try and defend herself should any attack come.

None came. Johanna’s eyes caught no movement around, and as she paid more attention, she noticed that probably all of the enemy caravan was on the floor, piled up together. As she tried to step closer to them to get a hint of what had happened, her hand crossed a barrier she hadn’t seen, like a giant bubble surrounding the tent. Ripples surrounded the spot her hand had passed through, and she retrieved it quickly as she watched a purple light travel from the ripples all the way to the top of the bubble, and then fall down behind the tent.

Not being sure of what could happen if she completely crossed the barrier, Johanna tip toed in the direction the light came from. With the pounding in her head beginning to soothe, she came to the realization that she wasn’t wearing her armour. She had been stripped and left only with her pants and tunic, even able to feel the grass on her bare feet. Her hair had also been put down.

After sneaking around the tent, she stopped and took a deep breath, readying herself to whatever she would see next. The effort was futile, what she saw when she looked at where the light cascaded down made her gasp loudly before she even could bring her hands to her mouth.

It was the princess. The chant Johanna had been hearing had been coming from her, and the light wasn’t going to her like she’d thought, but rather it had been coming from her. She wasn’t wearing her veil, and for the first time Johanna could see that her hair was shoulder lengthed and that it was purple. Though she’d been chanting with her eyes closed and her palms turned upwards before, she stopped her spell casting and turned to the guard when she heard the gasp, the corners of her mouth lifting when she saw who it was.

“I’d thought you’d be one of the last ones to wake up, but I’m glad you’re back first.”

“You- you are-“ Johanna stuttered, lacking words to even formulate a proper sentence. Rather than look worried or angry, the princess raised her hand to her, showing she had nothing to worry about.

“A witch, yes. And you look like you shouldn’t be on your feet yet. I was just casting a protection over us, let me take you back to bed.”

Ignoring Johanna’s bafflement completely, Maven put an arm across her back, her fingers on her waist, and held her left hand with her right one, in a way that Johanna could lean on her for support.

“I don’t understand…” Staring at the princess’s face, Johanna tried to fit the information she had together. “Wow are we even alive?”

“I enchanted your armours before we parted. No blow can strike through them. The rest of the guard had also just fainted, and I healed your wounds. You’ll be fine.”

Johanna breathed a sigh of relief. In the heat of battle, she hadn’t had the time to grieve for the lost soldiers, and now it was a blessing to know there would be no need to either. It was also a relief to know that there was a plausible explanation to her injuries being suddenly gone.

Well, she thought, the Princess Regent knowing witchcraft could hardly be considered a plausible explanation, but she was taking her victories where she could.

“Thank you, Your Highness. And… the enemies?”

“They seemed to me like a group of bandits, nothing more than that.” She answered, giving a sideways glance to the place where they had fallen after she’d made them fall into a temporary coma. The apprehension that these could have been Cirillanian separatists had been strong in her mind while they had been fighting her soldiers. “I took care of them. They’re alive, of course, but they’ll remember nothing when they wake up.”

Had she been in a better state of mind, Johanna would have been embarrassed that the person she was supposed to have protected had ended up saving them all, but it was impossible in that moment not to be grateful. She surrendered her movements to the princess’s leading, letting her guide her to sit down at the straw mattress on the floor.

Maven sat down on the mattress in front of her, folding the cloth that Johanna had seen earlier, which she now recognized was Maven’s veil. It didn’t escape her notice that she was the only guard in the princess’s tent.

As she leaned forward to undo the laces of her boots, Maven’s hair fell over her shoulders. It was no longer all purple now that she wasn’t doing magic. Only the tips were colourful, and the rest of it had become the same dark black as her bangs, like the king’s hair. She’d taken out her riding jacket, her long sleeved chemise leaving part of her collarbones to view. Johanna knew she had no right to stare, but to her tired mind it felt like a gigantic effort to avert her gaze. It wasn’t like the princess was telling her to do so, anyway, and she knew the princess noticed her looking. Johanna was willing to bet Maven had noticed every emotion that had crossed her heart ever since she’d first set her eyes on her.

In the soft light of the candles that burned inside the lamps, and with no veil hiding her true self, Johanna thought that the princess looked more beautiful than she’d ever seen her look. It felt like she’d put her guard down. Like all the forced gracefulness had fallen from her, leaving only the enchanting aura that she had naturally. She looked like the sort of woman people wrote love poems about.

I’d try to protect the princess no more than I’d gift a poet with a rhyme.

“Ravena.” Johanna whispered, about the same time as Maven kneeled by the side of her matress. “Ravena knows about you, doesn’t she?”

Nodding, the princess put her hands on Johanna’s shoulders, pushing her gently so she leaned back to lie down. The guard complied, and Maven didn’t retrieve her hands immediately, even after Johanna was lying against the mattress.

“She does. The story of how she became a knight is an interesting one, to say the least. But she earned our faith enough that we entrust her with this secret.”

Johanna stared at the top of the tent, her eyebrows squeezing together as her brain worked. It made sense to her now why Ravena thought the Princess’s guard was a dull job. The woman didn’t need a guard to begin with.

“You ward is too, isn’t she?” Johanna asked. Maven had sat back on her mattress, and was watching her with a pensive expression. “A witch as well.”

“She is. Was it her hair that gave it away?”

Johanna nodded.

“I knew someone would catch up eventually.” Maven chuckled, running her finger through her own hair. “She doesn’t like the idea of wearing a veil, and I don’t feel comfortable forcing it on her just to hide. It’s not really noticeable unless we were doing magic recently, only if you look at it for too long, or pay too much attention. Hilda usually doesn’t remain in the same place long enough for people to notice it. She’s got a lot of energy, that girl.”

“Is that how you do it?” Johanna began, not really thinking about whether or not she should be asking this. “How you rule so well? I remember when there was a food shortage in the eastern plantations... people would say your orders worked like magic. The kingdom is flourishing way more than anyone would have expected. Is it because of your magic?”

Biting back a smile, Maven shook her head in denying. “Not at all. Magic can achieve many things, but most of them can be more easily reached through intelligence. The eastern crops were dying because they’d been planting the same products on their land for decades. The soil had run out of nutrients, naturally. I simply ordered that they rotated the plots of land after every harvest, in a way that every plot had at least a season of rest and that they alternated their production. It didn’t take anything out of normal. But I’m flattered you think I’m doing a good rule.”

Johanna sighed, impressed. She’d thought maybe witchcraft explained why the princess was so unreasonably perfect, but it seemed that she was simply like that. At least it meant she hadn’t spent weeks infatuated with a person that didn’t really exist.

Letting her eyes stray back to Maven, it made Johanna somewhat worried to see how intensely she was looking at her. There was a small frown between her eyebrows, and she was biting her bottom lip. She was about to suggest the princess went to sleep, for she should probably be tired after a day in the road and their encounter with bandits, when she spoke first.

“I can’t let this get out.” Maven muttered, sounding hopeful and regretful at the same time. “The people might not care about what I am, but neighboring monarchs certainly would not want a witch in the throne of a large kingdom. This is why I erased the bandit’s memories, and why I gave the soldiers new ones, memories of victory. I’m not ashamed of what I am, not at all, but there are reasons why I cannot let this get away.”

Obediently, Johanna nodded. She hadn’t had time, in the few minutes that had passed between discovering that the princess was a witch and the present moment, to wonder about what Maven would do to her. Since it hadn’t seemed like she’d been angry at her discovery, it hadn’t bothered her. But as she put it that way, it was clear to her that she would need to forget, and it didn’t worry her. She grieved for the bit of proximity with the princess that she would lose, but her reasons were all good, and to have memories of a victory in her first real conflict was no punishment, even if a lie wasn’t what she wanted to live with.

Maven’s frown deepened with the soldiers’s reaction. Resignation wasn’t what she’d been expecting, especially since that plan didn’t even please herself.

“But I don’t want to make you forget.” She continued. “I like you, Johanna. You are very special. Can’t tell why I know so yet, but I do. I need you to help me, though. I want to let you have this information, but I need to know I can count on you.”

Johanna blinked, feeling her heartbeat pick up pace. As she stared right into the princess’s eyes, she wondered if perhaps she was dreaming, and would wake up to find that their carriage was still going to part. It took her a while to find her voice, nervous and unsure of how to answer, and it was during those moments that she saw the princess look less than completely calm, probably for the first time.

“Your Highness, that’s exactly why I am here.” Feeling her cheeks heating up, she focused on the princess’s question, knowing that if she dwelled on anything else Maven had said, she’d be rendered incapable of coherent speech. “If I am a guard, it’s because of my loyalty to your family, and if I wanted so much to come to this mission… it’s because of my loyalty to you. I don’t want to forget either, but I would have complied if that had been your choice. Still, you’re giving me that option when you really didn’t have to, and that only makes me look up to you more. I chose to dedicate my life to serving you. Keeping a secret is hardly a challenge.”

Afraid she’d said too much, Johanna looked at the floor instead of Maven’s face. She didn’t hear it when the princess’s lips parted slightly with a discreet gasp. When the guard put it that way, Maven supposed it hadn’t been foolish of her to even doubt whether or not she’d keep her secret. Obviously, she knew that regardless of who she’d asked that question to, the answer would have been a positive one, but she could read people well enough to know Johanna was telling the absolute truth. And it felt silly, now that she thought of it, to wonder if the person who had ran to an enemy army, ridiculously outnumbered and holding nothing but a weapon just to give her a chance of escape would give her the most mundane sort of help.

A weird feeling settled on Maven’s chest, like her heart was being squeezed. In the short years during which she’d reigned, she’d had the loyalty of many people. Soldiers, nobles, and peasants alike, the way she guided the kingdom had made it so she had a large number of admirers. That admiration was, for the most part, skin deep, and whenever she found someone who was willing to care about her for more than just her crown, she valued that infinitely. It was easy to tell that with Johanna, this is what had happened. Just like with Hilda and Ravena, the guard recognized that there was a woman behind the princess, and cared for her just as much. She wouldn’t have accepted her being a witch so easily if that wasn’t the case, if she only had a mind for the idealized version of Maven in her head.

It was the first time, however, that after such a short one in someone’s presence, Maven felt a matching devotion for them. The way the guard had looked at her in the welcoming, how she’d gone out of her way just to serve her in this mission, how her deep brown eyes looked so warm when she talked to her and the feeling of being transported to a bright summer day when Johanna spoke… Maven knew her devotion for her was greater than she could have anticipated.

Her ward had been right about her. Love was not at all far away.

“Thank you. It’s an honour to know you’re on my side.”

Their eyes met. It was just like that one instant on the first time they met. Their surroundings seemed to melt away, any worries or future plans becoming secondary on their minds. The preoccupation fell from Johanna’s face as she listened to her words, and she smiled, filling Maven with a gentle, light sensation.

“The honour is all mine.”

[venusxxlangdon]

Of Mice and Snakes

Pairing: Michael Langdon x fem!reader x Tom Riddle

Word Count: 12.3k

Warnings: crossover (Hogwarts AU), smut, threesome, dirty talk, anal sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation, oral (male on female and vice versa), fingering, humiliation, choking, mention of blood as a part of a ritual. All characters are 18+ (the reader is the seventh year student)    

Summary:  AU where the reader does not know that curiosity killed the cat and agrees to a midnight rendezvous with the Slytherin Heir and his best friend Michael Langdon.  

A/N: this epos (lmao the smut is endless, so epos is the right word to describe this madness) is based on my Slytherin!Michael headcanon & the ask I have received the other day: Slytherin Michael and Tom Riddle seeing who can get you to squirt first and they just keep making you cum over and over and you’re so sensitive but they’re mean and have big egos so they keep going even if you’re crying. Just imagine. (wow, nonny, your mind!!!)  Special thank you to my Slytherin binches @avesatanormalpeoplescareme & @ccodyfern who plotted the smut scene with me  

In addition, this is such a Michael-centric fic even though it’s a threesome that I’m crying at how much of Michael’s binch I am

“To caress the serpent that devours us, until it has eaten away our heart”

  – Voltaire

You knew you should not have kept a mysterious diary that you had found in your bag after Divination class. It appeared out of nowhere, and nobody seemed to know whom it belonged to. So eventually, you were sitting in the Slytherin common room, running your fingers along the hardcover of the notebook and contemplating if you could use it for your own purposes. It looked expensive. The cover was black, made of what it seemed like a snakeskin  – you wondered if it was faux  – encrusted with the copper fixtures on the edges.

O.W.L.s were approaching, so maybe having a spare notebook in your possession was not a bad idea, you thought to yourself, picking up a quill to put your name on the first page. When a thick drop of black ink fell on the sheet, you gasped in frustration, thinking that you must have ruined the blank surface. You wanted the very first note to be pretty, but instead, you had messed it up without even writing a single word! Suddenly your eyes widened at the sight of a fat smudge disappearing before your eyes as if the page was absorbing it like a sponge. You dipped the quill into an inkstand once again and wrote your first and last names.

The intricate handwriting faded away, and just a moment after, you saw some new words making their way on the yellow sheet.

 “Tom Marvolo Riddle and Michael Langdon are honored to meet you Y/F/N/Y/L/N”

 You were a reasonable witch and perfectly aware that the unknown artifacts were dangerous and should have been investigated before use; however, you licked your lips nervously and looked around in case any of the students or ghosts (Bloody Baron had a reputation of sticking his nose into everybody’s business) were watching you and wrote down:

 “Who are you?”

 The answer made you arch your brows in surprise.

 “Slytherin students.”

 There should have been a mistake because being a Slytherin prefect you knew everyone, or at least the majority of them. If there were someone who created such artifact, you would definitely know them. You frowned, and the thought of this whole thing being a prank crossed your mind.

 “Your names don’t seem familiar to me,” you scribbled, impatiently waiting for the reply.

 “We studied at Hogwarts long ago.”

 “I found this notebook in my bag. Is there any way I can mail it back to you? I don’t want anyone’s things in my possession.”

 It took a couple of minutes for them to reply. While you were waiting, you tore a small piece of a scroll off and wrote down “Michael Langdon and Tom Riddle” in order to check whom these people were later. When you glanced at the diary sprawled out in front of you, there was an answer:

 “This diary is the memory of ours. It chooses its next owner by itself. This time it’s you, so there’s no need to give it back. You can use it.”

 “But I technically I can’t use it for my notes. Whatever I write down disappears.”

 “You are right, but you can also enjoy our company. The fellow Slytherins will always get each other’s back. Besides, we know all the secrets of Hogwarts.”

 It was not a peaceful time for the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After Mrs. Norris was petrified by the unknown creature and the threat of the Slytherin Heir being back written in blood was found on the wall, everybody lost their minds. Even though you really disliked Harry Potter who was believed to be in charge of consternation, you did not think it was his fault, neither you considered Malfoy being a part of it. Once you overheard him gossiping about it in the common room and trying to persuade Crabbe and Goyle that he was a self-proclaimed Heir. When he said that, you scoffed, hiding your grin behind the book you were reading and thought to yourself that the second years were absolutely insufferable. Draco’s bravado was the epitome of his youthful maximalism.

 Curious by nature, you could not stand the idea of being unaware of what was going on around you. The floor of the crime scene was prohibited for students to enter until the investigations were over, so you dedicated most of your time to doing the research in the library, picking the information about the Chamber of Secrets crumb by crumb, and trying to complete the puzzle. Unfortunately, you had not been able to find much, and it was driving you crazy. In one particular book, you read a legend about a beast which of many fearsome monsters was the most dangerous one. Basilisk, or the King of Serpents, was believed to reach a gigantic size and live many hundreds of years. Its killing methods were wondrous from biting with its venomous fangs to murdering its victims with a stare. The last part seemed especially intriguing to you, and it was the reason why you concentrated your attention on this paragraph. On the one hand, it looked similar to what had happened to the cat, but on the other, Madam Pomfrey said it had been petrified, not killed, which made your assumptions false. Moreover, you really did not think that Dumbledore would have allowed a monster in the castle. The mysterious Chamber of Secrets seemed like an old fairy tale students would tell each other late at night for fun, but when Tom and Michael mentioned that they knew all the secret things of Hogwarts, you decided to try your luck and ask them about your conspiracy theories. 

 They found your Achilles hill without much effort. Your curiosity was stronger than your common sense, and maybe it was the reason why you still did not close the diary and throw it away for good in the Room of Requirement.

 “Do you guys know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”

 You bit your lower lip in anticipation and rested your chin on your hand, staring at the blank page.

 “What exactly do you want to know?”

 Well, shit, did the Chamber actually exist? It was the moment when you could ask them anything, but all the thoughts turned into incoherent flux you could not form into a proper sentence.

 Your handwriting became messier as you started writing, holding a quill tightly.

 “Is it really in Hogwarts? Who is the Slytherin Heir? Does Basilisk exist? I have done some research, but I’m not sure if my sources are reliable.”

 You put the quill aside and leaned back on your chair, placing your palms that involuntarily got all sweaty, on your uniform-clad thighs.

 “Well, well, what an eager girl we got here. You have too many questions for us, Y/N...”

 Crimson blush flushed across your cheeks at the pet name.

 “Could you, please, answer them?”

 You did not want to miss your only chance to find out the new information, even though it was obvious that you could not trust some random diary, which happened to be...only God knew what exactly it was. You figured that after you were done fishing for the new facts you would head to the library to check them out.

 “...too many questions, perhaps, we could answer. Since you’ve asked so nicely, we think we can show you what we know.”

 “Show me?”

 You did not know what to expect, maybe an essay on the Chamber of Secrets that would appear on the page, but certainly not the following lines:

 “As we have said, this diary is just a container of our memories. If you want us to answer your questions, tonight, at 1 a.m. you should go to the dungeon and bring it along with you. Open it on page twenty five and write “me videbunt*” in your blood.”

 Your heartbeat sped up. Sneaking late at night was not a problem for a prefect, but you doubted if you really needed to get involved in this suspicious venture.

 “Is it safe? I would rather prefer to find out who you two are before we could cooperate.”

 “Then it’s a good thing that you have plenty of time till 1 am.”

 You glanced at the big clock hanging on the wall with two snakes that represented hour and minutes hands. They showed 6:30 p.m. The reading room closed at 10.

 “Section 53. Raw 11. Shelf 9.” were the last words Tom and Michael left for you.

 xxx

 Sixth. Seventh. Eighth. Ninth. Your fingers walked on the book spines looking for the one that could tell you about the mysterious Slytherin students. None of the books seemed suitable for your purpose. They were on magical creatures, charms, transfiguration, and...the Triwizard Tournament. As soon as your fingertips brushed against the hardcover of it, the copper ornament of the diary you were holding against your chest with the free hand, heated up and scorched your palm. You gasped and looked at the reddened skin in confusion. Having picked the book from the shelf you made your way to a long table occupied by some Gryffindor students who shot pretentious glares at you as soon as you approached them. Without paying any attention to them, you took a seat, placed your bag on a bench next to you, and opened the book.

 The Tournament never really interested you. It was renowned for being extremely dangerous: champions had died while competing, and it was discontinued at some point due to the high death toll. However, it was revived in 1945 when wizards just like Muggles had to face the terror of WWII and needed something that would bring the most powerful Wizarding schools together and create the spirit of unity. You opened the table of content and scanned through the titles.

 “Champions of 1294”

 “No, it’s too early,” you thought to yourself, moving your finger down the page.

 “Champions of 1494” Skip.

 “Champions of 1792”Maybe? No, nothing.

 “Champions of 1945” It was the last tournament so far. You flipped through the pages, looking for the familiar names, eyes scanning every line.

 “Tom Marvolo Riddle, Slytherin champion, page 1055” and then “Michael Langdon, Slytherin champion. Disqualified. Page 1056.”

 On the mentioned pages there was a column written by a journalist from the Daily Prophet with a huge headline “Hogwarts champions have not outsmart the Goblet of Fire.”

 “Two seventh year students Tom Marvolo Riddle and Michael Langdon were so anticipated for the Triwizard Tournament that they decided to compel the Goblet of Fire for it to select them as Hogwarts Champions on September 25, 1945. Despite the outstanding performance of Confundus, only Mr. Riddle has been presented an honor to compete in the Tournament....”

 You could not finish reading the article, being too fascinated with the picture of two young boys smiling and waving their hands at you. You glanced at the description to figure out who was who. They looked very much alike: both were tall, dressed in the perfectly ironed Slytherin uniforms, and looking way too happy for those whose plan had not worked out. Even though the picture was black & white you could tell that Tom had dark hair, and Michael was blond. A cheeky smile on Michael’s full lips made you blush, and you rolled your eyes at your own reaction. You traced your fingers across the page, contouring their silhouettes pensively. They were extremely good looking. Tom did not win the tournament that year, but he and Michael certainly got their dose of glory.

 Did THEY really communicate with you via the diary? They mentioned that it was just a container of their memories, but how could it adapt to your questions if they had not been a part of the diary’s data?

  “Hey, Y/N,” you lifted your head up from the book at Thomas Finnigan, a Ravenclaw Prefect.

 “Yes?”

 “We’ll start the evening checkup in 20 minutes, okay? You take the fifth and sixth floors.”

 You blinked at him in confusion.

 “Wait, what? What time is it?”

 “Half past nine,” he curiously looked at the book you were reading, and you hurried to close it and put in under the Transfiguration textbook.

 “I must have got carried away,” you mumbled, still surprised that time had passed so fast. It was weird, you swore that you had come to the library at least thirty minutes ago.

 “Twenty minutes,” Thomas reminded you and left you alone with your thoughts.

 As soon as he left, you opened the same page with a picture of Tom and Michael. Having made sure that nobody was watching you, you took your wand out and cleared your throat.

 “Gemino,” and just like that, with a flick of your wrist, the photograph multiplied. You took the copy and hid it into the inner pocket of your robe.

 Half past nine. You still had some time.

 xxx

The best time of the day was when all students were in their common rooms, and you only had to stroll through the empty hallways checking if everything was alright. Your steps echoed in the distance, drawing the attention of the portraits who scrunched up their noses complaining that you were too loud, but you could care less. Being too caught up in your thoughts, you made your way to the moving staircases. You only needed to find Peter, the head of the prefects, fill out the daily report, and you would be done for the night. It felt like, with every step, the photograph in your pocket was heating up, sending the radiant waves of warmth down your spine, as a reminder that you were running out of time. Anticipation coiled in the pit of your stomach making you sick; you hold onto the staircase when it started moving in the direction of the fourth floor.

 They said they were Slytherin students and you saw the uniforms with your own eyes, so theoretically, you could trust them because there was an unspoken rule of Slytherins unconditionally respecting their mates.

 “The only person you should ever trust is yourself,” you whispered under your breath the reminder you and every Slytherin student lived by.

It was unsafe to sneak out this late when there was an unidentified entity that was petrifying students. Who knew, maybe in the darkness of the dungeons, it would attack you?

 You went downstairs and stormed into Professor Snape’s office where every day from 9 to 11 p.m Peter Goldberg was of filling out the reports. He was sitting on a tall chair, scraping on a piece of parchment.

 “Hey, Peter,” you threw your beg aside but did not pay attention to where it landed. By the sound of some pots falling over the table, you knew it was not going to be a nice morning for Professor Snape on the following day.

 Peter tsked at you.

 “Could you, please, be more careful for fuck’s sake?”

 “Everything’s fine out there, where’s the report?” You ignored the question, hopping on a chair next to him. He nodded at a pile of parchment in front of him.

 “If you manage to find it in this mess,” he waved his hand at the numerous papers flooding his desk, “you are welcome to fill it in.”

 “Why don’t you make some freshmen do all the paperwork for you?” You asked, looking through the pile of endless notes, important documents, drafts and what not.

 Peter tiredly rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 “Because they are stupid and incompetent,” he said it as if it was the most obvious thing. “If you want something to be done right, you need to do it yourself.”

 You hummed in response and spotted the corner of the sheet you were looking for on the opposite side of the desk. You leaned forward and took it out of the pile trying not to ruin it.

 “Then don’t complain about it,” you noted as you put your signature next to your name. “Here, all done.”

 Peter took the paper out of your hands and threw it on top of the folders. You watched him do it with your arms crossed across your chest, thinking it was no wonder that his desk was a mess.

 “What are you up to tonight?” He wondered without taking his eyes off the parchment.

 The question brought the thoughts of Tom and Michael back on your mind. In fact, they were always there, tempting you to say “yes” to the little rendezvous past midnight. You nervously chewed your bottom lip while taking a few steps towards your bag which was tossed on the floor.

 “Most certainly, sleep. I’ve been studying for O.W.L.s all day, and…”

You turned your head at Peter who clearly looked uninterested, being completely absorbed in work. Before you walked out of the class, you took your wand out and whispered “Scourgify” placing the papers in order.

 “No, no, no!” Peter shouted, his eyes wide open in terror, “these documents are charmed, they have to be sorted out manually, Y/N! That’s why I have been fucking with them all this time!”

 A road to hell is paved with good intentions.

 You did not know that, so you quickly stormed out of the classroom, giggling at Peter’s grunts behind the closed door.

“Sorry!”

 xxx

Of course, sleep was the last thing on your mind when you were lying in bed fully dressed in your black skinny jeans and a turtleneck. You were thankful for the canopy hiding you from the eyes of your roommates because dealing with unnecessary questions was not on the bucket list. The diary was right next to your thigh, tossed negligently on the white linen sheets. Your fingers lingered against the fabric searching for the photograph. You brought it to your face, looking at Tom and Michael for the hundredth time. It was obvious that you had made your decision right after you came from your night patrol and instead of changing into your pajamas, you put on your casual clothes.

 You: 0

Michael and Tom: 1

 It was 00:45 a.m. when you sat up on the bed and carefully listened to the sounds behind the thick curtains. You pulled the canopy aside and whispered “Quietus”, aiming at the sleeping girls. You clapped your hands in order to make sure that the charm had worked, and after no one reacted to the sound, you jumped off the bed and headed out to the common room.

 Sneaking on your tiptoes, you crept your way up the set of the stone steps to the door that was on the right side of the Entrance Hall (if coming down the marble staircase facing the front doors of the castle.) You gently pushed it, trying not to disturb the snoring portrait of the entrance guard.

 The blood in your temples was drumming so fast, you thought it was so loud that it could wake the entire Hogwarts up. You crossed your fingers, hoping that Snape was asleep. Filch was not a problem at all. The old twat was scared to go to the Slytherin dungeon, especially after his bloody cat had been petrified.

 It was so dark, almost impossible to see anything. You looked around and, taking a tight grip on your wand, whispered:

 “Lumos minima”

 A faint ball of light scorched at the pointy tip of your wand, lighting up your path. It was bright enough to see where you were going, yet dim not to attract attention. Your feet noiselessly glided along the stone floor. You did not know how deep you should have gone into the dungeon, so after you made sure that Snape’s classroom was left far behind you, you stopped and kneeled on the cold concrete. You slid the bag off your shoulder and took the quill and the diary out.

 1 a.m.

 You took a deep breath, and with slightly trembling fingers counted twenty-five pages. There it was. You smoothed the crispy sheet with your palm. Your hand sneaked onto the back pocket of your jeans, and you carefully drew a small razor blade out. Fuck. Did you really have to do it?  You prepared the quill and closed your eyes.

One. Two. Three.

 “Ouch!” You winced at the stinging pain when you slid the blade across your palm and a dribble of blood ran down your hand. You dipped the sharp point of the quill into the liquid and wrote down:

 “Me videbunt”

 You realized that you were holding your breath all the time. You inhaled a fetid air of the dungeon and leaned back on your hills. Nothing happened.

 “Vulnera Sanentur,” You murmured, healing the stinging cut.

 You heard your heavy breathing in the deafening silence, the drops of water dripping from the ceiling, and your mad heartbeat. The scarlet red inscription refused to disappear. You should have known better. It must have been a prank.

 “Me videbunt,” you mocked yourself, growling the words out through your gritted teeth. What an idiot. Annoyed, you grabbed the quill and showed it back into your bag. Right when you were about to close the diary and leave for good, you noticed that the writing started fading away. You dropped your bag and leaned forward, your nose inches away from the page. You could feel the copper smell of it. Blood started eroding the yellow sheet, and soon a bright light filled up the cracks on the page. It kept growing, spreading out beyond the edges of the notebook, enveloping everything around it. Including you. Before you could even blink, you were falling into the radiance.

 Boom.

 Your back hit a firm surface of what felt like marble. A dull pain pierced through you, and you moaned, rolling onto your side. Your fingers brushed against the floor and you scrunched up your nose at the sight of a disgusting goo covering your digits. What the fuck was that? You propped yourself up on your elbows and looked around.

 Your mouth fell open in shock. An enormous room sprawled out before you. A statue high as the Chamber itself loomed into view, standing against the back wall. It was ancient and monkeyish, with a long, thin beard that fell almost to the bottom of the wizard's sweeping stone robes, where two enormous grey feet stood on the smooth Chamber floor.* You could recognize the man in seconds. You had seen the portraits of him everywhere from history books to the packaging of chocolate frogs. It was Salazar Slytherin.

 Suddenly the sound of somebody’s steps drew your attention. You turned your head and saw a silhouette of a tall figure approaching you. Instinctively, your fingers slid down to the waistband of your jeans where your wand was tugged securely.

 “There’s no need to take your wand out,” a clear voice rang through the Chamber.

 You narrowed your eyes, trying to understand who the man was. When he came closer, you gasped, realizing that he was the one you saw in the picture. His black hair was laid in short smooth waves in contrast with his pale, porcelain skin. Dark piercing eyes were drilling through you, and you could not help yourself but think that you had never seen such mesmerizing color before. Two pristine stones of onyx that looked soulless. You gulped heavily, tightening the grip on the handle of your wand.

 “You’re Tom Riddle,” your voice sounded foreign to you.

 He reached his hand out to help you stand up. His touch was cold as ice. Nearly stumbling, you got to your feet, without taking your eyes off of his chiseled face.

 “What an honor to have such guest as you are, Ms. Y/L/M,” his full lips curled in a smirk.

 You put your hands on your waste, massaging the bruised pelvis, and nervously asked:

 “Where are we?”

 “In the Chamber of Secrets.”

 He let you take a few steps forward and whirl around to have proper look at the room. The Chamber looked fearfully impressive.

 “I don’t understand,” you muttered. “Does the professors know about it?“

 You looked at Tom, who was going around you in slow circles, like a predator hunting its prey, his eyes examining your body.

 “Of course they do. Dumbledore is not a fool to buy the idea of it being a myth. Salazar Slytherin built this Chamber centuries ago. It was the legacy of our faculty, I thought you had already known it.”

 “I didn’t know if I could take this information seriously. Nobody had been here before...”

 You stopped talking when Tom let out a chuckle.

 “Well, that’s where they have done their work,” his eyes twinkled devilishly, “they made sure to erase all evidence that two Hogwarts most talented students who made it to the Triwizard Tournament had opened the notorious Chamber of Secrets and awoken the beast.”

 A shiver ran down your spine. You looked at the goo covering the floor here and there and assumed it was Basilisk’s traces. You should have left right at that moment.

 “M-Michael did not make it as a champion,” you stuttered. Your intuition was particularly screaming that it was time to leave. Something was wrong about Tom and the way he stared at you.

 “Please, don’t remind him about that. He’s still so pissed,” Riddle playfully rolled his eyes.

 “What happened to you? Why are you here?” You were too scared to ask if he was alive. The icy touch of his hand left a weird sensation on your palm.

 Tom put his hands behind his back and with an ostentatiously serious look on his face explained:

 “Once upon a time,” you wondered if he ever talked without making everything sound so dramatic, “I had led a peaceful life as an average freshman of Slytherin, you know...pranked Gryffindor rivals, been the best student in class, “he winked at you. “Until one day, I heard a voice calling my name. Apparently, I was the only who could hear it, and at first, I thought I was mental... Little did I know that I was meant to understand Parseltongue, and it was Basilisk, calling for me, its only owner.” Tom grinned, showing his perfect white teeth.

 You looked at him with wide eyes.

 “But only the Slytherin Heir...”

 “Can tame the beast,” Riddle was so excited he could not even let you finish the sentence. “Yes, Yes, Yes!”

 Your head started spinning. The next moment you were aiming your wand at Tom.

 “I want to get out,” you hissed.

 Tom did not even move an inch. He glanced at your trembling hand and smirked.

 “Where are going, love?” a fake pout touched his lips. “Don’t you want to meet Michael? You seemed so eager writing those silly questions in our diary.”

 And just when he pronounced the last word, a loud crash roared through the Chamber. The stone mouth of the stature opened up, and you saw a large head of a snake crawling out of it. You cried out and backed off, moving your wand in the direction of the monster. The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars.** Fear, crushing onto your in destructive tides, made you numb and pinned you to your spot. You found yourself unable to move as if every muscle of your body was paralyzed.

 You heard Tom scoff “What a showoff,” and saw that there was a guy sitting on top of the snake’s giant head. The beast was so big that it almost took half of the room. It whipped its tail across the floor and bowed its head, letting the blond man jump off and gracefully lend on his feet.

 “I honestly think that he loves you more than me,” Riddle said, taking a few steps forward to stroke Basilisk’s scaly skin.

 “Well, if you weren’t a dick and accompanied him for the hunt, he would not be so putty in my hands.” A deep velvety baritone infiltrated your body, making your insides shiver.

 Michael Langdon was even more handsome in flesh than he was in the photograph. He was taller than Tom indeed, his long legs and broad torso resembled young Adonis. His jawline was so sharp that he could use it to cut your heart out of your chest.

 “And here is our little pen friend,” he mused and approached you with long, elegant strides. When he reached out his hands, you doubted if it was safe to touch him. However, being raised as a well-mannered lady, you did not want to seem rude. You were going just to shake his hand, but he covered your small palms with his large ones, squeezing them. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Y/L/N. We were afraid that you would not be able to bless us with your visit tonight.” The corners of his mouth twitched.

 “Frankly speaking, I doubted it, too,” you mumbled.

 “She had wanted to leave right before you came, Michael,” Tom scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. Your eyes gleamed at him with annoyance. Riddle could have done better and kept his tongue behind his teeth, but he was a cheeky asshole who liked to exaggerate things.

 Michael folded his hands neatly behind his back.

 “Why is that? Has my friend treated you badly?” He tilted his head, amused by the way your cheeks turned pink.

 “No, no, I just...,” your eyes traveled from Riddle to Langdon back and forth. “Tom told me he was the Slytherin Heir, but I had been thinking that this whole thing with Salazar Slytherin was just another legend.”

 “We had always wanted to make it to the pages of the magical books,” he ran his fingers through his soft blond locks. “It was just the matter of time and our creativity how we would do it.”

 “How did you find the Chamber? Why are you still here? How fucking old are you?” Your voice betrayed you and you almost yelled the last question at the top of your lungs.

 “Basilisk showed me the entrance,” Tom explained. “I had to tell Michael after he had caught me sneaking out late at night.”

 Langdon nodded.

 “If you had not told me we would’ve never become immortal,” a self-satisfied smirk touched his lips when he noticed your reaction. “I was the one who came up with a plan to trap our souls here and create the diary as a messenger.”

“Why would you want to rot in the dungeons?” You asked confusedly.

“We are not rotting here if you haven’t noticed yet” his fingers danced across his smooth, porcelain cheeks. “It was for safety. If it had not been for Tom’s youthful soul in this Chamber, Harry Potter would have killed him on that night eleven years ago...”

Your heart galloped in your chest like a dozen of horses, eyes skimmed through the room, looking for the exit. Basilisk was too close, and Tom and Michael had wands, so it was difficult to escape.

“…now we can entice him just like you, end his pathetic life and come alive in our full glory.”

You had not even think your plan over when you shouted:

“Expelliarmus!”

 “Protego Maxima!” Tom pointed his hand skyward, conjuring up an impregnable magical protection barrier that knocked you over in the blink of an eye.

You heard an audible noise that resembled a loud crack, and suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and wrestled your wand out of your hand. It was prohibited to apparate within Hogwarts until the Headmaster decided otherwise. What sort of dark magic Tom and Michael possessed?

“Why don’t you want to play nicely?” Langdon whispered in your ear, wrapping his hand around your neck, nearly suffocating you; you desperately clang on his arm, trying to break free, but it only made him press his fingers tighter, leaving crescent marks on your tender skin.

“This is not the right way to treat your fellow Slytherins,” Tom hissed, removing the bright shield.

“I think we should teach her a lesson.”

Michael’s body was pushed against your back; the dark lapels of his robes enveloped your limbs like a midnight mist, and your mouth hanged open when he rolled his hips, giving you a hint on what he had meant by his suggestion to teach you manners.

 “Do you think they still have fun like we used to, Tom?” he asked cheekily, his hand sliding down your head, petting you almost lovingly, and then tangling his fingers in your hair. He brushed the strands into a loose ponytail and yanked your head back, bringing it close to his lustful mouth. Plush lips pressed soft, teasing kisses and then moved behind your ear, leaving burning kisses along the way, making your pussy throb and a burst of your juices soak through your panties. No fucking way. You gasped in shock, being embarrassed by the reaction of your body.

 Riddle smirked. He stood several inches away from you, admiring the way Michael pinned you to your place like a lepidopterist who collected the finest butterflies. You were their butterfly indeed. Young and beautiful. They would make sure to rip your wings off. He traced his pale, slender digits along the waistband of your jeans and hooked the wool hem of your turtleneck, untugging it from your pants. The muscles of your lower abdomen tensed involuntarily in a weak attempt to refuse him from the touch.

 “Oh, I don’t know, Mikey,” he slowly sunk to his knees, putting himself to the same level with your clothed crotch. He rolled your top up and slid his palms down your sides, countering every curve of your feminine body. From this angle his face looked sharper, the hollows of his cheeks were ethereally deep. “Let’s ask our lady, shall we?” He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses to your belly, nuzzling into soft, warm skin. You gasped; bucking your hips forward, but Michael grounded you with his hands that he put on your pelvis.

 “Do you, little sluts, still sneak into the boys' dorms to play truth or dare, and then blow them when you get a dare, honey?” Riddle mewled and looked up at you with a carnivorous smile on his face. You did not even listen, being too caught up in a torturing discrepancy of muttering silent “no’s” to them and leaning into their arms at the same time. Michael trapped your earlobe between his teeth and cupped your face in his hands, petting your cheek with a thumb.

 “He asked you a question, doll,” he slightly bent his knee and you gasped in shock when he spread your legs with it and made you straddle his thigh. His kneecap was pressed several inches away from your aching center. You clothed your eyes and threw your head back, resting it in the crook of his neck and moaned as Michael started slightly rocking you back and forth.

 “I don’t know...oh,” your eyes fluttered open, when Tom cupped your sex with his left hand, applying just enough pressure to your clit, making you bolt up in Michael’s arms. He arched his brow at you, urging you to speak up. “W-we don’t do that,” you gasped and turned your head at Michael, nearly bumping noses with him, when his fingers unbuttoned your jeans and pulled the fly down. Looking at him pleadingly, you shook your head, but he only winked at you and maneuvered his hand under the waistband of your panties.

 “Oh my God,” he raised his voice a few octaves higher in a mocking manner, swiping his digits along your wet folds, collecting the wetness. From that moment you knew it was useless for you to try to say no. Your body betrayed you. The tip of his finger circled around your center, almost entering it and then pulling away teasingly to stroke your labia. His left arm was wrapped around your waist possessively, holding you in place. You bit your lower lip and hang your head low, letting your hair cover your flushed face that was burning with humiliation and embarrassment. “Look at it, Tom. She is practically soaked.” He removed his fingers with a sloppy, obscene sound, and you whimpered brokenly at the loss of contact, not being able to believe that you were THAT aroused. Michael showed Riddle his index and middle fingers, parting them to demonstrate the thin threads of your juices sticking to the tips of his digits.

 Tom tsked, tilting his head to the side. He raised from his knees and harshly grabbed you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Silvery tears blinked in your doe-like eyes making them look even bigger, even more innocent.

 “Don’t even try to persuade us that you aren’t enjoying this,” he hissed, and for a brief second he resembled a snake with his narrowed eyes and flared nostrils. The Slytherin Heir indeed. He held your chin so brutally, you were sure it would bruise afterwards. “Pretty little slut, it’s a shame you haven’t been gang banged before. Our legacy has been failed,” he pouted, gliding his thumb against your lower lip. As he started undoing his belt, Michael’s hand slid back into your panties.

 “We like destroying pretty things,” he whispered in your ear while massaging your clit in lazy circles, the back of his hand outstretching the thin lace. His luscious lips moved down to your neck, and you whimpered when he bared his teeth and playfully nibbled on your skin, velvet tongue immediately licking the bruised spot. “And you are very pretty.”

 He removed his slick-covered hand and traced it up to your breasts, rolling your turtleneck up higher to expose more of your skin. He tugged your bra down and brushed his thumb over your sensitive nipple. You moaned and bucked your hips forward to get some friction against his thighs, but as he ground his cock against your ass, you involuntarily motioned back to meet his thrust.

 “Just like that,” he cooed, teasingly slapping your right breast. “Good girl, keep rutting your hips, baby.”

 His hand fell down on your abdomen, and he pressed you against his stomach, making you feel every inch of his erection. It was the point of no return. You wriggled your hips and spread your legs a bit wider, so your pussy would get more contact with the fabric of Michael’s slacks.

 “See? She’s turning into an obedient little slut,” he chuckled and turned his head at Tom, who was watching you and Michael while stroking his cock that he pulled out from his pants a moment earlier. Chewing his bottom lip, he savored every movement of your hips, looking at you hungrily. There was always an unspoken competition between him and Michael, even though they were best friends. When Tom had become one of the Triwizard Champions it was not only his moment of glory but his time to outsmart Langdon who had always seemed to have the best girls, grades, and what not.

 “At least he’s not the Slytherin Heir,” he used to tell himself when another group of girls was whispering about Michael being “insanely good in bed” in the common room where Riddle was trying to study.

 “Enough of that,” he growled in annoyance, and with the snap of his fingers, a thick white mattress appeared on the floor before you. Tom stood on it with his polished shoes and nodded his head at Michael. “Put her on her knees. I want her to blow me.”

 Michael put his large hands on your shoulders and firmly guided you down. Your legs felt weak from the sensation Langdon had been causing to your clit, so you nearly stumbled when he forced you to your knees; the mattress dented under the press of your weight. You instinctively put your hands forward for leverage, placing yourself on all fourth. Tom’s long, hard cock with a bright pink head glistening with pearls of precum was inches away from your lips. He put two fingers under your chin, making you look up at him. His stare was so intense that you found yourself opening your mouth as if you were hypnotized, which he used to his advantage and ran the tip of his shaft along your parted lips.

 “If you bite me or don’t try your best to please me, I’ll feed you to Basilisk,” your eyes wandered to the side in the direction of the large snake curled up several feet away from you. “Understood?”

 You gulped heavily and nodded. Starting off slowly, you gave him the first kitten licks, tasting the salt of his foreskin on your taste buds. You wrapped your lips tightly around the head and gave it a gentle suck, hollowing your cheeks to create a vacuum. Riddle hissed at the warm enveloping sensation covering his cock with each bob of your head. You continued sliding down, trying to fit as much of him as possible, but you had to stop mid-way to help yourself with one hand, stroking the impressive length, and went back to his tip, swirling your tongue in the same rhythm you were jerking him off with. You pulled away to pay attention to his shiny slit and softly brushed it with your thumb, smearing his arousal.

 Meanwhile, Michael pulled your panties to the side and blew on your aching core, making both of your holes clench around nothing. He parted your folds, dipping his long fingers into your wetness, before he thrust two of them inside you, making you whine around Tom’s cock. It was so unexpected that you slightly brushed your teeth over his sensitive flesh, and the next moment you knew he slipped his dick out of your mouth and gave you a hard slap across your cheek.

 “Watch your fucking teeth!” He looked at you with so much rage and anger in his eyes that your insides flattered in fear. He slapped your lower lip with the tip of his cock and then traced it to your flushed, crimson cheek.

 A loud “smack” accompanied with a wet, obscene sound of the mix of your saliva and Tom’s precum made your head dizzy. Tears started streaming down your face, and you tried to blink them away, and what was more important, not to meet the heavy gaze of Riddle’s jet black eyes.

 Michael seemed to know what exactly he was doing. Tom and he had always been different with girls. His friend liked it hard and rough, while Michael could perfectly do both: edge a pretty girl from dusk till dawn until she was a whining mess under him or fuck the living shit out of her. It was all about his mood. That was why before you appeared in the Chamber, they had agreed that he would do all your preparation. Michael watched Riddle and you attentively, noticing the way your shoulders trembled as you took Tom back into your mouth, how you instinctively parted your legs and pushed your pussy out on a full display for him.

 He slid the panties down to your ankles, where your jeans were pooling and spread your ass cheeks. His soft, velvet tongue licked a wide stripe from your puffy clit to a clenched, puckering asshole, making you shift forward and choke on Riddle’s cock. It fell out from your mouth, and your head nearly banged against the mattress. You whined, shaking with every cell of your body, when Langdon’s tongue swirled around your clit as if he was licking off the tastiest weep cream, and then his lips closed around it, sucking gently. Your nails dug into the mattress, and you closed your eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to stay in this reality and not to drift off into the sea of pure, electric pleasure. You could not let yourself do that. Not when Riddle was still before you, waiting for you to recollect yourself and finish him. But Michael was so good. He was lapping up on your dripping pussy, drinking from it as if your juices were the sweetest nectar and your wet, puffy folds — the ripest peaches he was glad to savor.

 “Oh my God,” you cried out when he added two fingers at once while still sucking on your clit. He pumped them in and out a couple of times and then crooked them inwards, brushing right against the spongy spot inside you. It took Michael mere seconds to figure out how exactly you liked to be pleasured. He spread his fingers like scissors and used the heel of his palm to press it against your clit — each time he moved his digits, it stimulated your bundle of nerve. His flushed cock that was laying heavily in the crease of his pelvis, twitched at the sound of moans you were producing.

 The ticklish sensation in your stomach became almost unbearable. You tried to hold it back in order not to give Michael and Tom the pleasure of mocking you for cumming from there manipulations, but you knew you were destined to lose. Feeling the pressure unwinding deep inside you, you hurried to stuff your mouth with Riddle’s cock to silence your loud scream. Moaning around his length, you let go off your orgasm, letting it break through the dam and flood you with an earth-shattering pleasure. Your pussy quivered around Michael’s fingers, hips bucked in convulsions as you exploded into million pieces under him. Of course, it did not go unnoticed.

 “Such a good girl,” Langdon hummed approvingly and pulled his fingers out. Tom beckoned him and looked down at you, admiring the view of your flushed face and a fucked out look in your eyes. He took his cock out of your mouth, and let Michael bring his finger to your puffy, abused lips.

 “Suck,” he ordered, and the blond man shoved his digits into your mouth, your tongue instinctively wrapping around them. You looked at Tom with wide eyes, but you did not really see him. You felt like floating, euphoria fogged your mind and did not allow you to think straight. Riddle thought if he had slapped you at that moment you probably would not have reacted.

 Michael bent over, pressing his bare torso against your back to make sure he got a full view of your eager mouth tasting your cum off his fingers. He shoved them down your throat and outstretched your cheek with his thumb just for the sake of seeing how much of him you could take.

 “The wetter they get, the less it’s gonna hurt,” he whispered in your ear. You sucked harder, coating his pads with your saliva. The taste of your own juices, Tom’s cock, and Michael’s skin was extremely arousing. You felt the wetness pooling between your thighs again and mentally slapped yourself for being such a whore. Even the fear of anal did not stop you from secretly wanting it.

 When Langdon decided it was enough, he removed his fingers from your mouth and got back to his position behind you. He gently pushed on the small of your back, making you arch your spine a bit more. While you were still relaxed and pliant from your orgasm, he used this opportunity to bring his fingers to your tight asshole and slowly massaged it. You whined and covered your burning face with your hands, trying to hide the embarrassment.

 “Relax,” Michael playfully tapped your ass cheek and in circular motion penetrated your entrance to the first knuckle. Just a tip to start with. You involuntarily clenched around him, not being able to relax. Every muscle of your body was chained to anticipation and fear of the unknown. Was it going hurt? Tom and Michael were big, and you doubted that your tight little hole could handle them both.

 “I said, relax,” he used the rest of his fingers to reach to your clit and tease it. Your body reacted immediately, visibly relaxing from his touch.

 Tom who was stroking his cock in front of your face, chuckled amusingly.

 “Why don’t you occupy her? If you keep her distracted, she won’t clench that asshole.”

 You hated that they spoke about you in the third person as if you were not there, as if you were nothing but a fuck toy for them. Your head flew up when you felt the tip of Michael’s cock against your pussy. You looked over your shoulder to meet the stare of his icy blue eyes.

 “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” he mused, rubbing the head along your sensitive folds.

 Without taking his eyes off of you, he slipped inside your heat with his finger still buried in your asshole. He went past the first rim of your sphincter and froze for a second to let you adjust. You could swear there were stars before your eyes. Never had you ever felt so full in your entire life. His cock, judging by the feeling of it, was as big and Riddle’s one, deliciously stretching you out with every inch of its lengh.

 “That’s it,” Tom grinned and sank to his knees before you to cup your face in his hands, lifting it up from the mattress. “Relax, little slut. Let him fill you up nice and hard.” He dropped his one hand to get a grip of his cock. Stroking it lazily, he started jerking himself off to the obscene sound of Michael’s flesh slapping against your ass.

 Langdon snapped his hips forward and started building up a steady rhythm of thrusts and his manipulations with your asshole. You were taking him so well, he spread you out for him to watch his cock disappearing in and out of your pussy, claiming it as his. Each roll of his hips hit right at your sweet spots. When he slowed down to give you especially deep thrusts, you lost your mind. You cried out and shook your head so violently that Tom had to let go off of your face. Tears spilled out from the corners of your eyes, and you cried out a loud “Michaeeeeel,” at the top of your lungs. You felt so week that you did not even have the strength to clench the tight ring of muscles when he added his middle finger. Working his way, Langdon never stopped the movement of his hips, drawing loose figure-eights and swaying them back and forth.

 Tom’s hand, wrapped around his hard-on, was sliding along his shaft with a sloppy sound; he stroked the underside of it where a thick throbbing vein was located, and a low groan instantly fell from his lips. He closed his eyes in pure bliss and threw his head back, messing his short raven hair up. His agonizingly beautiful face was contoured in pleasure as he drove himself closer to his orgasm.

 “Open your mouth,” he ordered and stood up on his feet. Somehow, you managed to obey and did as he had told you, sticking your tongue out for him. Your breasts bounced vulgarly with every thrust of Michael’s cock. The fact you were still half-dressed (in tugged turtleneck and jeans around your ankles) and thus looked like a filthy whore who was ready to be fucked wherever and whenever Langdon and Riddle wanted to, was driving you crazy. You watched the way Tom’s cock with a purple tip throbbed and twitched in his palm, indicating his upcoming release.

 Everything happened simultaneously. Michael’s free hand covered your clit and rolled it between his fingers, his digits in your ass massaged it in a matching rhythm with his hips, sending you to the edge in seconds. Right at that moment, when your pussy started pulsing around Langdon’s cock, Tom came with a loud moan, painting your face with white ribbons of his cum. Some of it got on your tongue and lips, but you did not dare to lick it all off without his command. His hand yanked your head back roughly, and he made sure that cum covered not only your mouth but your prominent cheekbones as well.

 “Drop dead gorgeous,” he praised and gave your wet, cum-stained cheek a light slap. He collected the pearly beads with his thumb and pressed it against your tongue. “Here, have a taste.”

 You felt extremely sensitive, it was almost painful for you to take Michael who sped up his thrusts. Sucking on Tom’s fingers as if they were a fucking pacifier, you wriggled your hips, trying to give him a silent hint that it was all too much for you, but ended up taking him even deeper.

 “Fuck,” Langdon swore, and with the last sway of his hips, he spilled inside you. You felt his cock pulsing, and even though you had already finished, your pussy clenched around him one more time, squeezing every drop of cum out of him. Sweat beaded on your forehead, the remains of clothes stuck to your body like the second skin. Michael’s load filled you up to the brim, and when he finally pulled out, it was dripping out of you slit down to your thighs, covering your skin like shiny pearls. He removed his fingers from your asshole as well, leaving you undeniably open and stretched out for him.

 As soon as he loosened the grip on your pelvis, you fell onto the mattress, breathing heavily. Lying there like a useless toy with your arms and legs bent outwards, the only thing that you wanted was to go back to your dorm and sleep for days. Exhaustion crushed onto you like a tsunami, destroying the remains of your pride and dignity. Your limbs were numb, jelly-like, and you winced at the dull ache in your core when you tried to close your legs.

 A pair of strong arms scooped you from the mattress and forced you into a sitting position as if you were nothing but an obedient puppet. You scrunched up your nose, a broken, disappointed moan slipped off your lips, as Tom grabbed the hem of your turtleneck and pulled it up to take it off completely. At least, it became easier to breathe. You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to brush the combs, but soon realized that it was a waste of time. Your hand dropped helplessly on your thigh where numerous purple bruises from Michael’s grip started to bloom across your skin. Riddle’s cum mixed with your tears began to dry on your cheeks, giving you an unpleasant tingling, and you tried to wipe it off with the back of your palm. What a mess.

 Michael gracefully dropped on his knees. He grabbed your left foot in his hand and gently traced his fingers up from your toes to the area between the heel and the ball, stroking you and moving up to your ankle. He helped you get rid of your jeans and tossed them aside on the cool floor of the Chamber.

 “Please, I can’t do this,” you whispered, shaking your head. They clearly were not done with you, but you were afraid that you would eventually pass out if they continued assaulting your further.

 Langdon leaned forward and sensually caressed your cheek, running his fingers along your jaw until he reached the velvet of your lips. You looked up at him through hooded leads and sighed. It was the first time when he actually kissed you. His soft, plush lips brushed against yours passionately, he grabbed you by your chin and slightly tilted your head to deepen the kiss. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tasting you. He caught your lower lip between his teeth and playfully bit on it, drawing a couple of drops of blood and immediately licking them off. Having spread your legs with his knee, Michael nestled between your thighs and pulled away from you with a barely audible moan. He was good at playing the game where he soothed, deceived you and made you think he was going to be nice with you, but then ruined you completely.

“You can and you will, baby,” his beautiful blond hair was disheveled, pupils blown and obscured with lust and desire. He palmed your breasts and looked down at them to enjoy the way they bounced in his hands.

 “As if she has a choice,” Tom scoffed, positioning himself behind you. “C’mon Michael, we need to hurry, otherwise, you will have to finger her ass again.”

 “Not that I would mind,” a cheeky grin spread across Langdon’s lips, and he placed an open-mouthed kiss on your cum-stained cheek before he leaned back on his heels to give Tom more space.

 Riddle wrapped his left arm around your shoulders and used his right one for leverage when he lied back on the mattress and brought you closer to his chest. He bent his knees and plant his feet on the soft surface to not only help himself balance, but also position himself more comfortably behind you. When he was steady, he spread your legs wider, putting his erect cock right at your clenching entrance. You were on a full display for Michael who was standing right between your things. A blush bloomed across your cheeks when you saw the way his lips curled into a smirk at the view of your glistening slit and loose asshole. You wished the cool floor of the chamber could swallowed you up in flames from how embraced you were. A shiver jolted through your spine when you felt the head of Tom’s cock pressing against your little hole. You held your breath and looked at Michael with wide eyes.

 “All the way in,” he said in a sing-song tone, watching how marvelously your body was adjusting to Riddle’s size. You gasped and closed your eyes shut, gripping at the mattress beneath you so tightly, your knuckles turned white. Despite that fact that Michael had prepared you, it still hurt like hell. You cried out, and Tom let go off your hips for a second to take his time and spit on his palm. Having smeared the saliva all over his cock and your opening, he proceeded to penetrate you. You trashed and wriggled your butt on top of him, making it almost impossible for him to thrust up.

 “Keep fucking still,” he grunted in your ear and then sank his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder, leaving a burgundy red print. It was a lost battle from the very beginning. You knew it was over for you when Michael shifted towards and wrapped his fingers around your ankles like shackles.

 “Shhh,” he cooed and leaned forward to give your nipples small kitten lips. He looked at you through his curly fringe, catching your gaze, and swirled his pink tongue around your hardening buds. “Be a good little slut, sugar.”

 “This is too much,” you sobbed, throwing your head back on Tom’s shoulder. His hair was tickling your ear every time he shifted, trying to find the right position, and you could feel his chest rising and falling with every rapid breath.

 “You can complain all you want,” Michael arched his brows. “Look at yourself,” his slender fingers traced from your chin down to your sharp collarbones, tense stomach and lower, to your pussy. “He has penetrated you with just a tip of his cock, and you are already wet.” And just to demonstrate the shameful truth he collected the wetness of your slit and showed it to you.

 “I’m not even surprised, Michael...oh, fuck,” Tom moaned as he continued sinking into your asshole. “Whores like her would sell their souls to the Devil for a chance to be split on a good, fat cock. And you, sweetheart,” he emphasized the pet name with a thrust of his hips, bouncing you on his length, “have the privilege to take two at once, so if I were you, I would be more appreciative.”

 When he bottomed all the way down, Riddle stopped to brush his wet hair off his forehead and take a breath. He started off slowly, rolling his hips in lazy circles. Michael’s fingers were nothing in comparison with the feeling of a real cock in your asshole. The dull pain started to fade away, and the first moan of pleasure escaped your throat, when Tom bucked his hips up, going a bit deeper.

 Langdon could not take his eyes off of you two. You were a panting mess in the arm of his friend who was doing his best not to let go of all his self-control and fuck the living shit out of you. Michael knew Tom was going to snap soon. He licked his lips and helped you bring your knees up towards your chest and rest your feet on the tops of Tom’s knees for extra support. This position allowed the Slytherin Heir to enter you at a particularly sharp angle and brush the tip of his cock against all the sensitive spots inside you. His hand reached down to his cock, and he pulled it out but just to thrust his shaft right back in.

 “C’mon, dude, stuff the bitch up,” he growled, his hand cupping your breast and squeezing it hard.

 Riddle did not have to repeat twice. Michael aligned himself with your entrance and filled you up in one swift motion. Your eyes rolled back into your head, and the scream that tore up your chest was so loud that even Basilisks shifted in his spot. Tom and Michael moaned in unison, thriving off your whimpers and pleas. Their hands roamed over your body, playing with oversensitive nipples, pulling your hair, griping on your sides and trembling thighs. They were everywhere. The air was thick and smelled like sex, suffocating you. Your head was spinning.

 Your mouth fell agape when you looked down and started watching Michael’s cock thrusting in and out of your throbbing core, feeling you to the brim. Your muscles were sore, and if it had not been for him and Tom holding you firmly, you would have already collapsed. When it was clear that you were no longer hurting and moans of pleasure rang through the room, bouncing off the stone walls, they started fucking you like two animals, devouring your insides. You felt dirty: the sloppy sound that was filling the Chamber was the result of Michael’s cum, your arousal and so much saliva that it was drooling down your thighs on the mattress. Red, white and back dots danced before your eyes, as you orgasmed around two pulsing cocks with a cry. It hit you so unexpectedly that for a second you stopped breathing and wrapped your arms around Michael’s neck with such strength he had to hiss at you in a warning.

 “No, no, no more,” you begged as he covered your clit with his hand and started rubbing on it harshly.

 “Keep milking my cock, slut,” Langdon pulled away, unlocking your embrace, and laced his hand around your neck. He kept slamming inside you at animalistic speed, and Tom was trying to match the pace. You were clenching around Riddle so violently that he was on the verge of losing his mind. He ground your hips against him, making you take him and Michael as deep as possible. The more they pushed your legs towards your chest, the shallower the penetration was. Their long, hard dicks hit all the perfect sports at once, and if you had not already been so oversensitive, you would have found it enjoyable, but since three groundbreaking orgasms had pierced through you, you were a goner.

 They did not listen to you at all. Competing who would bring you to your fourth orgasm of the night, Tom and Michael went all the way in. Langdon towered over you, his nostrils flared with each thrust of his hips, blue eyes stared right through you. Every moan they elicited from you stroke their egos and urged them to go deeper. Harder.

 The sensation of two cocks moving inside you, stuffing you to the hilt was indescribable. When Tom pulled out and spread your ass cheeks to demonstrate Michael his stretched out you were, you nearly blacked out.

 “You were fucking born for this,” Riddle praised you, venom dripping through every word.

 You knew they were getting close by the way their movements became more hectic, uneven, they started to slow down and switched to deliciously long, hard thrusts. You gritted your teeth and with a deep sigh gathered the remains of all your strength. You were going to hold on and let them finish.

 Michael pelvis rubbed against your clit as he kept pounding you, and although you thought it was impossible for you to cum one more time, the build-up pressure was about to unwind.

 Three. Two. One. And that was it. The pressure of their cocks inside your ass and pussy became unbearable and you exploded into million pieces, quivering around them so hard that Tom and Michael followed you right after. Hot loads of cum were shot inside you, filling you up and spilling out, running down your thighs. You saw Michael’s face contorted in bliss, and the thought of how painfully beautiful he looked at that moment made you shiver and bite the inside of your cheek in order to suppress another moan.

 “Don’t pull out,” he told Tom while looking down at your core. They stayed inside you for about a minute, which seemed like an eternity for you, ignoring your whines. Michael watched the mix of their cum dripping out of your folds in awe.

 They pulled out carefully, trying their best to keep the liquid inside you. The sudden feeling of emptiness was extremely uncomfortable.

 “Close your legs,” Riddle whispered, and you obeyed, clenching your thighs to make sure that every drop of cum was secured. He rolled you off himself, and you tiredly sprawled out on the mattress with your hands between your legs, sighing under your breath at how wet and sticky you were.

 Your throat was burning from your cries, an extremely rough blowjob, and dehydration in general. As soon as your cheek touched the soft material, you closed your eyes and wished upon solitude and peace. At that moment you did not even care if they killed you. Being too fucked out, your brain was unable to function, and your sore body refused to feel anything but numbness. You heard them saying something, but you were not sure if they were addressing you. Everything was spinning. The dark colors of the Chamber swirled around you, turning into one dark spot, which enveloped you like an abyss, shutting off your ability to see or hear anything. It was only you and darkness that you were thankful for, because it wrapped you in its arms and kissed your temples, dragging you deeper into oblivion. Away from Michael and Tom.

xxx

“Y/N, wake up! Wake up, you are gonna be late for Transfiguration!”

 “Is she dead?”

 “Shut up, Pansy, of course, she is not. Wake up, sleeping beauty!”

 You slowly opened your eyes meeting the worried stares of your roommates. The girls stood around you in a small circle, the look on their faces showed their surprise that you, a Slytherin prefect, had overslept for the first time in ages.

 “I-...” you licked your dried lips and cleared your throat, wincing at the burning pain in your throat.

 “Are you alright? Do we need to take you to Madam Pomfrey?”

 You shook your head at pulled the blanket up higher to cover yourself up. The memories of the previous night flashed before your eyes, and your hands flew up to your cheeks, searching for the traces of cum. The skin was smooth as silk.

 “Yes, thank you, I am fine… I just overslept” your voice sounded low and raspy, but you managed to give the girls a weak smile, and soon enough they left you alone, so you could get dressed.

 It took you a couple of minutes to calm down your mad heartbeat and lift the covers up to look down at your body. The ache between your legs and the overall feeling of exhaustion indicated that the view was not going to be pretty.

 “Oh my God,” you gasped at the sight of your stomach that was blooming with purple irises of hickeys and bruises. They were all over your breasts — and you were sure the neck too — abdomen, and thighs. You spread your legs carefully and touched your core with your fingers, moaning at how puffy and sore your folds were. You pressed your head into the pillow and let out a muffled groan. It was not a dream after all. The presence of their cocks inside you was as tangible as ever.

 Your legs felt like jello when you slowly put them on the wooden floor. Closing your eyes tiredly, you shook your head, letting it fall down in your palms. What were you supposed to do? Tell Dumbledore? Tom and Michael were two psychopaths, and whatever the plan they had, it was not going to turn out good for any of you. The first thing that seemed right to do was to take a shower and wash the ghost of their touches off your body.

 The water was soothing, sliding down your sides, and with a deep sigh, you sank to your knees on a tile floor. You could not tell anybody because in that case, you would also have to confess what a filthy whore you had been when you had cum on both cocks.

 After a long hot shower, you wrapped your body in a soft, fluffy blanket and made your way to the empty dorm. You needed to get rid of the diary, just throw it away into the depth of the Room of Requirement, and forget the entire experience like a bad dream. “Well, not so bad,” your heart skipped a beat at the thought, and you groaned at your own ignorance.

 xxx

 “Out of sight, out of mind,” you murmured, standing in the Room of Requirement with the diary in your hand. The cover was warm, and when you smoothed it with your fingers, for a second it seemed like the notebook was pulsing, as if it was a living creature.

 You closed your eyes and turned around, so your back would face the numerous piles of the things students had left in the room throughout the years. Your unclenched your fingers and threw the diary as far as you could behind yourself. It landed somewhere with a thud.

 “That’s it,” you stormed your way out of the Room, and headed to your next class, trying not to limp and considering if Obliviate would be the best charm to perform in order to forget that night.

 But did you really want to erase Riddle and Langdon from your mind? The blond and the brunette. They were like coffee and milk, enigmatic, and incredibly dangerous. You definitely needed some time to recover before you could think straight again. For the rest of the day, you were completely zoned out.

 xxx

“Excuse me,” a high-pitched tone interrupted your conversation with Winona Flint who was a sister of Marcus, a Slytherin seeker. You turned your head at the intruder to see a second-year boy who was holding a package in his hands.

 “Hey, what’s up?” You wondered, and raised your finger up, asking your friend to pause the story she was telling you.

 “I was told to give this to you,” he handed you the package, and you took it from his hands with a frown.

 It did not have any address on it, just a plain wrapping paper; the gift was anonymous. You quickly tore up the packaging and almost dropped it on the floor when your fingers brushed against the familiar hardcover.

 “Who sent you to me?” your voice cracked.

 “Y/N? Are you alright?” Winona asked, having noticed your reaction. She curiously looked over your shoulder to examine the gift. “What’s that?”

 “Tom Riddle and Michael Langdon,” the boy answered. “They said it was yours.”

 You were in for one hell of a ride.

*Let me see (Latin)

**J.K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

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