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orqheuss · 2 years ago

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Mingle our ashes and bury us together

(GN!Reader/Ominis/Sebastian ANGST)

Summary:

“The world has taken too much from you to still be considered a child, little one. I wish I could have sheltered you from it all— shielded you from the darkness lingering in the air around us and the powerful magic that thrums in your veins.” Fig sighed heavily, like he wanted to carry all the weight on your shoulders for you. “Alas, it seems we all have a purpose to fulfill. The world does not stop spinning— not for ants like us.”

***

The trauma of everything that happened during your fifth year of Hogwarts weighed heavily on your heart. One night, you decided to do something about it— the only way out that you could think of.

***

Contains spoilers for the game

Title is from the novel "Song of Achilles" by Madeline Miller

Ao3 link here

Word count: 9.4K

TW in this fic: - Panic attacks - Dissociation - Hallucinations - Suicidal thoughts - Suicide attempt - Violence similar to self-harm - Mentions of death - Romanticism of suicide - Mentions of murder - Blood

If you are prone to suicidal thoughts, please read at your own risk

Panic attacks were a fickle thing. You knew you were alive and well, tucked away in a far corner of your deserted bedroom, but it felt like your head was submerged under water and you were fighting to survive. Darkness crept along the corners of your vision as your lungs struggled for air, yet somehow you were also hyperventilating. That strange push and pull of oxygen burned deep inside of you, scorching its way down your entire body and turning to a thick, ashy paste in your stomach. Bile and a bit of stomach acid set your throat aflame as you heaved around the lump trapped at the base of your neck. You could feel every part of your brain scatter around in your skull like bullets— the frontal cortex slamming against the forefront of your head and burying itself just behind your eyes, your cerebellum scratching along your spinal cord and twisting around the occipital lobe like an anthropomorphic rope, and finally your amygdala lodging itself in your mouth, trapping your tongue to the bottom of your teeth and jostling against your uvula. Panic crept up your back, swimming through the spinal fluid in between each link of vertebrae and turning everything to a blackened sludge. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear up and down that you didn’t have any bones left in your anatomy. Everything felt simultaneously taut and gelatinous. It was almost like your body was laughing as you squirmed, like a physical personification of depression somehow entered your bloodstream and made its home there— you were fighting against yourself, human versus mind. The heartbeat under your ribs was non-existent as you clutched at your chest, desperately searching for the pumping organ under your pulsating rib cage. Were you dead? It was possible— either your heart stopped long ago and this was all your personal purgatory or it was beating too fast for you to feel it. Even still, you wished you were dead. You could feel the claws of insecurity, of self negativity, clenching around your neck and breathing swarms of locusts into your mouth, down your throat, and into your already gasping lungs. How could the world be spinning but also so startlingly still? You didn’t know, and you cursed whomever would listen for making that horror a reality.

Memories pounded painfully at your temple, swimming through the murky black depths of the water behind your eyes and illuminating everything with their sickening, back-lighted pictures. The first to appear was Sebastian’s face as he murdered his uncle in cold blood, then the forlorn, utterly destroyed look that slipped over his features right after— his stressed words of how he needed to do it screamed at you from somewhere inside in your chest. Next was a slow motion moving picture of Natty being struck with the cruciatus curse in your stead, her animagus form writhing on the floor as her mother watched on in fear, wincing like she was feeling every bit of pain her daughter was. Rearing its ugly head afterwards was a painting of the utter defeat and heart wrenching brokenness that dripped from Ominis’ lips as he fought with the decision of sending his best friend, his brother, to Azkaban. You had never seen his eyes so dull, so blinding white in all the time you’d known him. Finally, you saw the light leave professor Fig’s eyes in the underbelly of Hogwarts, his last words lingering in the air around you as he left you alone in the world again, gone to meet his wife once more in the afterlife.

You thought about something he had said to you once. He had found you curled around your mangled body in the Room of Requirement like an animal lying down to die on the side of the road. Even if he didn’t have children of his own, he treated you like his own flesh and blood— better than your father ever did, at least. With an anguished, worry-filled look on his face and his eyes showing more of his age than he ever did before, he picked you up off the ground and carried you to the little bathroom off to the side of your sitting room. You remembered him being so gentle with you, like a tiny fragile trinket he found tossed in the bin. He brushed you off and tried to fix you up as best he could, running a hot bath as he cleaned your wounds. He had told you something at one point; his voice was muddled in your mind as he washed the blood from your matted hair, comfort flooding your body at the sheer familial-ness of it, but the words rang true.

“The world has taken too much from you to still be considered a child, little one. I wish I could have sheltered you from it all— shielded you from the darkness lingering in the air around us and the powerful magic that thrums in your veins.” He sighed heavily, like he wanted to carry all the weight on your shoulders for you. “Alas, it seems we all have a purpose to fulfill. The world does not stop spinning— not for ants like us.”

His whispered words have echoed in your ears since that night. The world has taken too much from you. If only he knew just how truly right he was.

All you could do was tightly shut your eyes and pray for everything to end— for the world to cease its incessant swings of a battle-axe at your fragile walls and let you breathe for once.

It took everything inside of you to tell yourself that no, you were not drowning, and yes, drinking some water would definitely help you right now— the voice ringing in your head sounding suspiciously like a certain blind wizard with motherly tendencies. Stumbling to your feet from your bedroom floor, you wandered towards the common room bathrooms, sliding your hands along the walls for stability like a drunkard exiting the Three Broomsticks. You fought against your strength to not slam the door shut behind you, before tripping over your own feet and nearly face planting into the porcelain clawfoot sink. Your hands shook against the pressure of your fingers gripping at the basin, the snow from the outside inching through your very bones and sprinkling icicles in your blood, and you shoved them under the hot running water in a desperate attempt to feel something, anything, other than the intense woebegones swallowing you whole. Looking up, you locked eyes with your mirror self— the ultimate endless staring contest. You traced along your features, taking in the deep black bags under your eyes, the gauntness of your cheeks, the lack of color in your skin, the dullness of your eyes, everything you could see. If this is what you looked like in your own mindseye, what did the others see when you roamed the halls like a ghost? Maybe they thought you truly were a ghost— one of the many spectors trapped in the haunted halls of Hogwarts. You felt like that, sometimes. It had been ages since you last slept, and what was a spirit if not just someone who has given up entirely? Either way, the face peering back at you did not look like yours anymore; in all honesty, it probably hadn’t for a while now.

The world has taken too much from you.

Something shifted in the glass, like a trick of the light against the marble countertops and accent pieces of the lavatory, and your reflection smiled at you— an eerie thing, all teeth and no life behind its eyes. Its eyebrows cinched together at its brow, eyes now twinkling with a demented desire for pain and suffering as its lips stretched unnaturally over their teeth. Canines poked out from the skin, sharpening on their own accord to a dangerous point and scraping against its bottom jaw. This was no longer you, well, as much of you as it tried to be— the ghost in the mirror had your face, and it was using it to taunt you, remind you of every one of your mistakes. Swinging your head around, your greasy hair smacking against your colorless cheeks, you tried to shake the illusion away. Surely you were just hallucinating, that had to be it. Your sleepless nights finally caught up to you. But, creaking your eyes open again just showed the same thing as before, a face that belonged to you but was absent of your soul— it lacked your distinct you-ness. You locked eyes with yourself, or it, once again, clouded fear meeting dastardly pleasure, and it wrenched its jaw open like a large springtrap. Your own voice slithered into your ears.

“Look at you— such a pathetic waste of space. The ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ reduced to a panicking mess from nothing more than some mean thoughts.” It tilted its head like an animal listening for its prey, fangs catching the light and making them look even sharper. “Is this what we do? Hide in bathrooms and avoid everyone else when things get too hard?”

Every ounce of fear in your body was replaced with a steadily burning anger forming in your gut. You brought your hands out from under the water, your skin red and near the point of blistering, and dug your nails into the sides of the sink. The urge to reach through the looking glass and shake the creature before you— to bend the laws of nature to your whim and strangle your doppelgänger blazed through your blood. The mirror person laughed.

“Oh, are we angry now? Moving from one negative emotion to another, tisk tisk.” It studied you for a second, eyes sliding over your body and drinking you in like a dying man in the Sahara Desert. “Where is that happy student that first came to this school? That little muggleborn that was so excited to learn everything they possibly could about magic?” It leaned closer, its smile somehow stretching wider, lips nearly touching its ears. “Tell me, have you learned enough yet? Did you satisfy your hunger?” It sounded like it was right behind you, breathing down your neck. “I think Sebastian did.”

The world has taken too much from you.

You fought against the whine trying to leave your throat, instead turning it into a weak growl, your words nothing but a croak against the echoing tile. “Stop this.”

It stepped back then, its constant smile still present but a different look shining in its eyes. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was— pride? Greed? Ambition? They all went hand in hand, in their own way. “What about Ominis, then? What he must think of you, pushing his best friend further down the path of the dark arts without a care, even going as far as learning the spells for yourself! Tell me, how did you plan on using those? Against Rookwood? Against Ranrok?” A pause, its grotesque form leaning forwards once again and whispering to you. Its voice hissed through the room, filling your ears with nothing else, only its syllabatic resonance. “Did you stop yourself because the teachers were watching? Because Fig was watching?”

A grimace pressed your lips in a thin line, your eyes squeezing shut and everything on your face tight. You gripped the sink harder, your nails catching on a small crack in the porcelain and breaking it even more than before. Your hackles raised to the sky. “Leave them out of this.”

It began to pace inside the mirror like a tiger in a circus cage, eyes never leaving yours. With each passing moment their mouth grew more and more teeth, each serrated and sharper than damascus steel. “I’m only saying what you’ve already thought before.”

“Imagine what they all think of you— what they would think of you if they knew everything that you’ve done. How many people have you killed? Ten? Twenty? Have you lost count at this point?” It stopped, parallel with your true self again. Its eyes bore into your skin, burning you like someone was putting a cigar out on your skin. “You’re just as bad as every single one of those corpses you left behind.”

Bringing its face as close to the mirror as possible, its nose nearly touching yours if the glass wasn’t there, it gazed directly into your soul. “Fig would be so disappointed in you.”

Those seven words tore their way directly into your aching heart, burying its sharp, rose-thorned claws into your very being and ripping everything you held dear to shreds. You could feel every happy memory you had become tainted with its sickening smoke, clouding over the good and only leaving the bad and the ugly. Your teeth clenched together in a snarl, lip arched upwards at the corner and revealing the true anger you had burning through you to the monstrosity hiding in the cheval glass. Its laugh echoed loudly through the room, ricocheting off of the high ceilings and shrouding all of your other senses— only its smile stained the darkness behind your eyelids and the sound of its voice swam in your ears. You opened your eyes, glaring hotly at yourself, at the demon that lived inside of you, and reared your hand back before thrusting your fist into the reflection with an anguished wail.

Everything was silent once again, only you and the shattered mirror remained.

The world has taken too much from you.

Pants trickled from your mouth like a steadily dripping fountain as you stared unblinking where the glass structure once was. Cracks spiderwebbed their way around from the middle, a distinct chasm roughly the size and shape of your fist the perpetrator of the fissures. Bloody, cracked fingers white knuckled the sides of the basin again as you caught your own eyes in one of the many splinters, pupils blown wide and a crazed look adorning your visage. Your skin was sickly pale, making the blackness under your lower lids stand out even more. You had aged exponentially in the months following the attack on the repository— each agonizing second living with the guilt and shame of your actions adding one more wrinkle or grey hair to your already mourning skin. The duo of life and death hunted down all their children in the end, and you had evaded your end for quite some time. Professor Fig would truly be disappointed in the person you’d become. The throes of a panic attack began to knead its way through your chest and into your throat once again, and without a care to the state of the bathroom you quickly turned on your heel and ran from the room.

***

Sebastian’s leg bounced rapidly under the Slytherin dining table, shaking the surface and sending some of the blueberries in the fruit basket decorating the center to the floor. He paid them no mind, instead casting his eyes around the room in an attempted concealment of his worry for you. Dinner was almost over, and you were nowhere to be found. Imelda had said that you weren’t in the room when she was last up there, and that was nearly three hours ago. A small pit of dread was beginning to build in his stomach. The Sallow boy wasn’t an idiot, he had seen the look in your eye as of late. That sparkle that was once there was long gone, the iridescent hue now replaced with a dull, dismal shade. It was like all life had been sucked out of you— you barely ate, barely slept, and all he could do was watch from the sidelines. Every time he tried to bring it up with you, try to be a shoulder for you like you had been for him, you’d just brushed him off with the most half-hearted smile and pathetic sounding “I’m fine” he’d ever heard. No one else had heard any different from you since whatever happened under the school; you absolutely refused to talk about that day. All they knew was there was a brief earthquake and you disappeared for a few hours, only to return bruised and bloody with a dead professor Fig and a very morose rest of the faculty. Ever since that fateful day, you had begun to look more and more like an inferi, and that was deeply troubling to the freckled boy. He was deeply— ardently worried about you.

Across from him, a scowl adorning his face from the incessant rumbling from the other boy, Ominis sighed as he abandoned finishing his food. He could feel Sebastian’s stare, the worry and sadness flaking off of him in chunks and turning his stomach with a mix of rage and loneliness. It had only been a few months since the incident with Solomon Sallow, and neither boy had spoken about it since that one night in the Undercroft. The wiry boy still struggled over the decision of not sending his friend to Azkaban— a part of him almost wishes the decision had been easier. Sebastian may be one of the last family members he had left at Hogwarts, but Ominis was still deeply disappointed in him for his actions. Not only had he dragged himself down the path of dark magic, he dragged you along with him as well. You, a sweet, kind soul that was brand new to the world of magic and didn’t know its terrible sting yet. From what he had heard from others about your appearance, he could tell you had been stung, and his heart ached that it had happened so soon; you had no time to explore the wonders and joys of the magical world before its darkness sunk its claws into you. The Gaunt boy was also incredibly worried. He may not be able to see what you look like, but he can hear you just fine— if not better than others. He could hear the shifts in your breathing whenever Sebastian picked up his wand in class, how your heart beat a little bit faster whenever they passed by Fig’s deserted office, how you sometimes had to calm yourself down in the hallways before entering Defense Against the Dark Arts room on dueling days. It was like the old you died under the school with your mentor, or at least whatever was left of you after the catacombs. Maybe some of you died that day, as well. One of his deepest regrets was leaving you alone that day to run back to the castle. Ominis knew that he should have stayed, at least waited to see if Solomon showed up to stop Sebastian himself. He knew the man quite well, dare say better than his own father, and he knew that the eldest Sallow dealt with problems head on, not through others. Maybe if he stayed things would have been different. Either way, the world was not being kind to you as of late, and he wished he could take some of that pain and weight from your shoulders and help you carry it, but he also knew how much it hurt to lose someone you loved.

And so, in the Grand Hall were two Slytherin boys, both worried about their friend who had gone through so much so young— who had been thrust into this world of dark and light and ancient magic that wanted to swallow them whole and tossed directly into the deep end with nothing to hold on to. The blond one sighed deeply, looking upwards towards the candle lit pseudo-night sky on the ceiling with his unseeing eyes like it would tell him the answers to his questions before turning his gaze to the brunette across the table, taking his hand and resting it on top of Sebastian’s. The freckled boy stilled, eyes widening and mouth parting at the sudden touch from the friend that despised him currently. He was about to speak when the blond cut him off, saving his questions for another time.

“If they don’t come down for breakfast tomorrow, we go check on them.”

With that, Ominis retracted his hand and went back to staring down at his plate of food, pushing around his peas with his fork and losing himself deep in thought once again. Sebastian brought the hand the other boy touched to his chest, cradling it and savoring the warmth it held until his skin turned cool with his own body heat. A small smile broke through the permanent frown that had turned his mouth since the day he destroyed everything he ever loved.

It may be for the safety of a mutual friend, but that was still progress either way, and Sebastian was happy to talk to his best friend again.

***

Hours later, you found yourself curled in a tight ball in the corner of your dorm once again. You had crudely wrapped your bleeding knuckles with the gauze that you hid under your bed from your numerous adventures, but even still the skin stung with the heat of one thousand suns— a constant reminder of how quickly you could lose control. The darkest of thoughts swirled behind your closed eyes, singing to you their sweet songs of loneliness and woe. They whispered how better life would be without you, how you had caused so much pain and suffering to those you loved dearly— those you loved more than the earth, the sky, the moon, the stars, everything. It was like a hungry, ravenous pit had awoken in your stomach that night in the repository, desperate and starving and ready to swallow everything that it encountered. Your soul ached to feed the beast festering inside of you; it craved a sacrifice, and who were you to silence its cries? You had killed plenty before. The faces of those you brought to justice— the oxymoron of killing for “justice” was not lost on you— swam in your thoughts constantly. Your reflection was right, you had lost count of your dead long ago.

Death was the sweetest lullaby, after all.

Emotion fled your body like a gazelle running from a charging lion, leaving you but a husk of the person you once were. The analogy your beloved Professor Fig had once used to describe you whispered through your ears, swimming in and out like a beautiful, melancholic melody. We truly were no better than ants in the grand scheme of things— nothing but lambs to the slaughter. We all die eventually, you either met it with grace or you fought against what was inevitable until your very last breath.

You didn’t know which fate was worse. In all honesty, you’d lost the ability to care.

The world has taken too much from you.

Standing from your slumped position, heart pounding in your chest a sweet, staccato rhythm that pushed you forwards, and your knobby knees shaking like branches on a cold October night, you began to make the long trek out of your common room and towards the halls of Hogwarts.

Voices swam through your mind as you reached the top of the dormitory stairs; their words captured your attention for a moment. You could make out the distinct voice of Lyra Malfoy chatting with another Slytherin girl, one you weren’t familiar with. It didn’t matter in the long run. Either way, they had some choice words about you.

“Did you see the new fifth year was missing from supper? Wonder where they could have gotten off to. They’re never here, anyway— too good for us common folk, I guess.” Lyra’s nasally accent grated in your ears. “Bet they killed Fig themselves— wouldn’t put it past them in the slightest. You’ve seen the state they come back to the common room in sometimes! Covered in blood and muck, absolutely disgusting. How they ever made friends with Sallow and Gaunt, I’ll never understand. They could do so much better.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks for the upteenth time today. You prepared to cast the disillusionment charm, your arm swinging in the air in an upwards arch, only for you to pause when more voices joined the fray.

“Oh really, Lyra, we could do better? With whom, perchance? You? I’d rather go toe to toe with the venomous tentacula.” The icy tone of Sebastian broke through the gossipy haze, his tone playful but with an underlying anger festering, like he was daring the girl to continue to speak.

Ominis’ voice came soon after, sounding disinterested and laissez faire about the whole situation. You knew him well, though, and his words had just as much bite as his companion. “I would stop while you’re ahead, Malfoy. Best not speak about matters you don’t understand, yes?”

You could almost hear the girl's feathers ruffle in anger. “What are you trying to say, Gaunt? Think your little mudblood pet is better than the rest of us?”

The slam of a book echoed against the stone walls; the sardonic bite in the young Slytherin’s voice was no longer as subtle with his next words. “Are you naturally this moronic or do you have to put effort into it? My dear, you are no better than the pebbles stuck in the soles of my shoes, you intolerable troglodyte. People simply tolerate you, and I have neither the time nor the parchment and ink to explain that to you.” There was the sound of cloth against cloth, likely from the boy getting up off of the couch he frequented at the end of the day. “Now, as much as I would love to stay here and continue to insult you, I shan't do it as well as nature did.”

His voice got closer as he neared the stairs to the boys dorm. Right at the edge of the staircase, he paused again, his blistering words carrying over his shoulder with his final cutting remark. “Somewhere out there, there’s a tree whose single purpose on earth is to replace the oxygen you waste. Go find it and apologize, won’t you? Maybe the centaurs will find you along the way and think you their long lost kin.”

A small smile crept across your face at the sound of Sebastian’s boisterous laughter. A loud, prissy “hmph!” came from the Slytherin girl before she turned on her heel and stomped out of the room, her friend following close behind.

Merlin, you loved those boys. You’d miss them dearly. You hoped they’d be able to heal quickly after you were gone. At least they would have each other.

The sound of Ominis’ polished oxfords clacked against the marble stairs as he made his way to his dorm room. You quickly cast the disillusionment charm over yourself, tucking your body away into the shadows in case Sebastian was not far behind. You watched his dirty blond quiff breach the top stair, his face still schooled into a look of concealed fury— as much as he hated his upbringing, he always had to keep his emotions in check. His foot paused on the very top step, his wand poised in front of him and his other hand tucked away in his pocket as he slightly inclined his head in your direction. Curse his infernal location charm. You tucked yourself even tighter against the wall. His eyes softened minutely, the movement so small anyone else, anyone not within his tight inner circle, would have missed it. A small sigh heaved from his parted lips, his shoulders slumping in sadness. He could hear your stuttered breathing as you fought against the tears pooling in your eyes, feel the slow, sorrowful song of your heart beat in tandem with his own under the sanctuary of your ribs.

He craned his head further in your direction, murmuring lowly— his words were only for you. “I know you heard all of that, little dove.” Your breath caught at the nickname he lovingly bestowed upon you. How you would miss the sound of his voice. “Please know that you are not alone. I meant what I said in the Undercroft; whatever we are to face in the future, we will face it together.”

With one final bow of his head in your direction, a silent “goodnight,” he continued on his way to the room he shared with the brunette boy. The tears building behind your eyes finally fell, streaking down your face like lines of grieving poetry. Steeling yourself once more, you began your descent down the stairs and out of the place you had called home for the year.

At the top of the stairs, tucked away in the farthest corner were the remains of your shattered heart, doomed to be lost in the woven strings of time.

***

Night had long ago fallen across the sleeping castle; only the sweet sound of the cicadas singing their song of summer rang in the distance as you peered over the edge of the Astronomy Tower. You basked in the cool night air, letting the breeze take you completely into its arms and wrap you in a gentle calmness. A bundle of letters were clutched in your hand, your grip firm so they didn't slip away but gentle like holding a newborn chick— your words were precious cargo. With a flick of your wand, each piece of parchment folded itself into an intricate paper crane and took off into the night, one for each of your closest friends. You smiled as you watched them go, somber tears beginning to cascade down your face for what you hoped was the final time.

***

Sleeping peacefully in the Slytherin girl’s dormitory was a soon-to-be sixth year by the name of Imelda Reyes. Her raven black hair was free from its usual updo, flowing from her head and across her pillow like a sea of inky blackness. She looked calm for once, a stark contrast to her usual abrasive personality— Quidditch was her life, and one could only be as violent as the sport they lived and breathed. After the last year and everything that had happened around the castle she called home, Imelda had adopted a lightness to her sleep; she was awoken by the smallest of sounds, primarily so she could check on her friends in case something bad were to happen in the night. She was fiercely loyal and protective once she allowed you to get close enough to call her a companion. The fluttering of paper at her nightstand awoke her from her slumber, a small groan leaving her lips as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Cracking her lids open, she was greeted with the sight of a lone paper crane resting just next to her head. It was folded beautifully, its wings perfectly creased with her name written across its back. She could smell the cold air from outside still lingering in its folds. Curiously, she grasped the bird in her hands and carefully unfolded it, revealing the curled script of her newest friend. She looked confusedly over to your bed, analyzing the shape under the covers. As quietly as possible, she crept over to the side of your mattress and pulled the blanket back, startling slightly at the sight of three pillows stacked together to form a pseudo-you. Worry began to creep into her throat as she quickly unfolded the rest of the note. With each word gracing her eyes her skin got paler and paler, dread and a pure, raw fear curling in her stomach. Frightened tears gathered in her lower lashes as she raised her hand to her mouth, pressing the whimpers that threatened to leave her lips back behind her tongue so as to not wake the other girls. Obviously you had wanted her to find the note in the morning— there was still time to stop you before it was too late— there had to be.

She quickly threw her robe over her sleep clothes, sliding her slippers onto her feet as she ran out of the room, nearly sprinting towards the boys dorms to alert the other Slytherin’s you held close to your heart. Sebastian and Ominis shared a solo room; they were the only two Slytherin fifth year boys, fortunately, so she didn’t wake anyone else up with her incessant pounding on their bedroom door. A bleary eyed Sebastian opened the door, stopping her fist midair as it almost smacked into his chest. He gave her an incredulous look, his eyes slitted into a glare and his eyebrows tweaking up in confusion. She pushed past him, stalking towards the other boy sitting up against his headboard, sleep still clinging to him like a warm jacket. She picked up their cranes and thrust them into their hands, slightly crushing the paper. The brunette, more awake now, took in the girls' appearance for the first time since she rudely woke them up. Her eyes were wide and frantic, panic swimming in her irises like the deep dark depths of the black lake. Her robe hung loosely on her frame, the shoulder slipping downwards and revealing the sleeve of her night dress. She had two different house slippers on— she had hastily thrown them on without checking that they matched. At any other time, the boy would have laughed at her obvious lack of awareness, but it was obvious that right now something was very wrong.

Sebastian’s heart began to pound in his chest, his own eyes widening in trepidation. “Reyes, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

The girl ran one of her hands through her hair, her own crane clutched in her hand as she struggled to form her thoughts into words. Ominis was more awake now, listening intently to the rapid rhythm of the girl’s heartbeat throwing itself against her sternum. He could smell the anxiety on her like a strong perfume. Worry began to fill his chest, rivaling the stress of his brunette companion.

“Imelda, why have you given these to us? What’s happening? Tell us!”

A pathetic whimper spilled from her lips, both of her hands now reaching up and gripping at her roots. She nodded her head in the direction of their hands, her entire body vibrating now. Fear stabbed through the hearts of both of the boys— they had never seen her act like this before. She took a deep, shaking breath, trying to calm her heart before it beat out of her chest. Her voice was frantic when she spoke.

“T-they’re in trouble— that idiotic, self-sacrificing bastard! Read the letters! We have to do something— stop them somehow!”

The two boys froze at the tone of her voice. Whatever could bring the Imelda Reyes to a whimpering mess was not something to be trifled with. She stopped her pacing for a moment and shot her gaze to both boys, her normal levels of annoyance flowing through her body.

“NOW moonminds!”

The two Slytherin’s frantically scrambled to open the cranes, Sebastian beginning to read his as soon as the last crease was released and Ominis stretching quickly for his wand and grazing it along the paper. All the color seemed to drain from the room in an instant, coating everything a stark grey. Their breathing picked up exponentially as they skimmed through the paragraphs, primal horror flooding their bodies with each passing second.

Sebastian was the first to gather himself again, throwing himself into action and grabbing his own robe, throwing on his shoes and sifting through his mess of sheets for his wand. He called over his shoulder once he heard the blond do the same. “Imelda, go get the others and split up— every inch of this godforsaken castle needs to be checked! Ominis and I will look in the spots they most frequent. We cannot let this happen!”

The girl made a noise of affirmation, bolting out of the room once again and beginning her sprint to the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor common rooms. Ominis finished his struggle with his robe, the buttons of his sleep shirt snagging on the fabric as quiet curses spilled from his lips. The brunette grabbed his hand once he was settled, basically dragging him from the room and towards the first place they thought to check: the Undercroft.

They needed to fix these wrongs before there was nothing left to mend.

***

You gazed outwards at the stars glittering in the sky, mapping out the constellations in your mind as you took in the beauty of the world for the last time. The palms of your hands stung against the cold metal of the handrail, all of your strength being sent to your grip as you dangled over the edge. You sat perched on the metal, your legs swinging in the night air and your hair blowing in the breeze. One particularly strong gust of wind and you would be a goner. You sighed, content in your end.

Tilting your chin upwards towards the streaks of moonlight shining through the treetops, you closed your eyes and imagined all of the good that came from your brief stint amongst the magic folk. The first memory to make itself known was a day in the library. It was pouring outside, the rain smacking harshly against the stainglass windows that lined the walls and creating a soothing sound for studying. Natty, Poppy, and Imelda surrounded you at the small mahogany table— your own personal knights of the round templar. The three of you had abandoned your charms work long ago, the papers littering the surface in front of you and little dots of ink dripping from the quills held aloft and swinging wildly in your hands. Your friends had always told you that you talk with your hands— perhaps they were right. You were deep in the throes of one of the many tales you had from your time outside of the castle, telling the story of how Poppy and you took down a dragon fighting ring and returned an egg to a very angry mother dragon. The smiling Hufflepuff, the human incarnation of sunshine herself, would jump in every so often to tell her side of the story while the other two girls gawked at you in enraptured awe. Natty cheered along with you, lamenting about how she wanted to be there with you to help. Imelda said the same, stating that she could have been a great asset with her superior flying skills. You remember laughing with them for hours, tucked away in a far corner of the library away from the prying eyes and ears of your peers. You may not remember what you were laughing about, but you remembered the feeling— the pure warmth in your chest and the happiness in your soul. The three of you had planned to go to Hogsmeade one weekend soon— you hoped they would raise a glass to you in your memory. You smiled as the next images began to take shape.

You were in Sharp’s class near the beginning of the year, working on a group assignment after supper with Garreth Weasley. You remember the brazier's firelight glaring on his ginger hair, making it look like little dancing flames. His eyes glittered just the same, the brown pools of his irises alight in the color of petrified amber, mischief swirling in the hues. You could distinctly see a fwooper feather hidden away in one of the many compartments of his cloak. You remember lightly scolding him for stealing the ingredient from the student stores, reaching under the fabric and gingerly taking it out of its hiding place before tickling his nose with it. He laughed at the feeling, swatting away your hand with a large smile stretching across his face. The distinct smell of gunpowder clung to his clothes from his many potions experiments as he leaned closer to you, pointing something out in the recipe that you both missed and going back to the supply closet. In the back of your mind you knew that he was going to grab another feather— his favorite reaction was when they exploded in whatever concoction he was creating— but you just shook your head fondly at his retreating form before dropping the fwooper feather into the potion yourself; your brew was already ruined, anyway. You remember the look of elation that crossed his face when the Gryffindor heard your potion begin to bubble over, its contents blasting out of the cast iron cauldron and covering the both of you in a neon green sludge. You remember his smile most of all, the crinkles next to his eyes when he was truly happy. You hoped he’d appreciate the feather attached to his little crane; maybe he’d even set something on fire for you.

Another scene flooded your mind as your consciousness dragged you through a new memory. You found yourself lounging by the black lake, the clouds passing by overhead as the bright sun streamed through the spaces in between the white tufts. You could feel the rough bark of the weeping willow near the shore against your back, feel the cool autumn breeze blow against your skin with a gentle kiss. To your right were your dear Slytherin boys, Sebastian pestering Ominis incessantly— his favorite pastime. Today he had decided to test the blind boy’s ability to tell what objects he was holding without his wand. Currently, the blond was rolling a small acorn around in his palm, ignoring the stare of the brunette burning through his skin as he focused on the texture and feeling of the object. His eyebrows were furrowed at his brow as he hesitated a guess.

“A gobstone? Why do you have— no, wait, no! I know this, don’t tell me.” He pinched the nut between his fingers as he felt along the ridges at the top. A confident smile stretched across his face, his brows relaxing and his shoulders straightening like a bird preening itself. “It’s an acorn.”

Sebastian groaned, rolling from his criss-cross position to his back with a ceremonious thump. His hands smacked against his face in exacerbation. “How are you so good at this? I thought for sure I’d get you with that one. How often do you pick up acorns!?”

Ominis laughed, a quiet chuckle that rumbled in his chest and shook his shoulders. You remember his teeth catching the light ghosting through the leaves above your heads, the pearly whites glimmering in the rays. His eyes were tightly shut and his chin was tucked towards his chest as he cheesed at his friend's misfortune.

“I have to keep some secrets for myself, Sebastian. We aren’t together all the time— I have a life outside of your shenanigans.”

The brunette nudged the blond’s outstretched leg roughly with the tip of his foot, laughing at the affronted look crossing the Gaunt boy’s face before getting pelted with the acorn still in his hand. You remember laughing at their antics when Sebastian hoisted himself back up to his knees, shuffling his way towards Ominis and tackling him to the ground as they wrestled under the sunshine. This was the first time you’d ever heard the wiry boy’s true laugh, the one that came from your chest and filled your soul with happiness and joy. Their lively giggles dug itself deep into your heart, warming the organ like a homely hearth in the middle of winter. You hadn’t smiled like that in a very long time.

You would miss their laughter the most— their wondrously jovial happiness and zest for life. Their laughter could call forth the brightest of sunbeams during even the gloomiest of storms. You hoped they would continue to laugh like that after you were gone.

One last happy memory floated through your mind, glowing as bright as all the stars in the sky. You welcomed its warmth like an old friend.

The foyer of your childhood home came into view as the hazy white fog of your mind disapparated into the air. Your parents had long since died, leaving you alone to take care of your homestead. This memory was more lifelike to you, like you had fallen into time itself and came back up for air months in the past. You ran your fingertips along the mantlepiece to your left, gathering dust and sending little specks to the ground below. Gazing at the pictures lining the walls on your slow trek to the family room, a walk that was as familiar to you as breathing, you took in each little moment trapped forever in the stagnant photos. Your parents smiled down at you, their eyes brimming with happiness and just as bright as you remembered. Their arms were wrapped tightly around each other, heads thrown back as their laughter was trapped in time.

The world has taken too much from you.

The image of them dead and cold, their bodies lying like stone across the metal slabs in the town morgue flashed across your vision like a bolt of lightning, all color draining from your world for a second and being replaced with a stark, monochrome Chiaroscuro. You shook your head rapidly, fighting off the sadness that bubbled up in your chest and the macabre film playing behind your eyes.

You could hear the fireplace crackle in the sitting room as you drew closer, the flames dancing across the hardwood floor and casting enticing shadows on the crown molding lining the walls. A soft humming came from the corner chair, and as you rounded the corner a gasp left your throat. Professor Fig looked just the same as he did when he first came for you. He had stayed in your cottage until the beginning of the school year, teaching you everything he knew about magic so you wouldn’t be too far behind your peers and answering all of your fascinated questions with a smile on his face and laughter in his heart. Eleazar was like a second father to you— he cared for you, fed you, made sure you were well looked after in the absence of your biological family, and made sure you knew that you were not truly alone in this world. You could remember the kindness in his grey eyes, how he always had a joke at the tip of his tongue and a chuckle bubbling just under the surface of his ribs. Those days before moving to Hogwarts were filled with pure, heavenly light.

The world has taken too much from you.

Another flash of lightning, and another image of someone you loved dead and gone slammed against your temple. Where Professor Fig once stood in your living room, a smile stretching across his face and his arms open to embrace you like he always did when he came home, now was his dying body breathing shakily on the carpet. You ran to his side, grasping his hand between both of yours and searching his eyes for the last bit of life that you knew resided there. Around you the scenery changed— your alabaster walls transformed into the wide, stony faced cliffs of the temple under the school, your fluffy carpet shifting into the hard pebbled ground beneath your knees. Your adopted father lied before you under the school in the dismal repository that no one else knew about, his last breath echoing against the chamber walls and the ghost of his long departed wife’s name falling from his lips. You watched the life leave his once ever-glowing eyes, his irises turning the dull tone that only came with the sweet release of death.

The world has taken too much from you.

Just as quickly as the happy memories surfaced, the nightmare-inducing horrors came soon after— horrors that you had shoved out of your mind mere hours ago rearing their head like a cobra hiding in the tall grass. The smile that adorned your face fell as fast as a blizzard across the Highlands in winter. You squeezed your eyes shut as you fought to block them out, but your mind was too weak, too soft after everything you’d gone through. The memories broke through your barriers, and the sounds of screams bounced around your skull like a rogue bullet. Professor Fig’s words continued to ring in your ears, setting your teeth on edge more and more with each passing moment.

Flashes swirled across your mindseye, each one stronger than the last. The first was of Natty, her animagus form falling to the ground and writhing in agony as she took a curse that was meant for you.

The world has taken too much from you.

The next was of Lodgok, his body slamming heavily against the wooden boards behind him— his brother murdering him in cold blood without an iota of remorse on his face.

The world has taken too much from you.

Then there was the kind man from the Ministry that was to escort you to Hogwarts with Fig— George, you believed his name was. The dragon swallowed him whole; he was the first death you had ever witnessed.

The world has taken too much from you.

Another flash— Tobbs, the tiny house elf that stood his ground against the mighty Acromantula and lost. The sorrow on Deek’s face when you brought him the news scarred your very soul.

The world has taken too much from you.

Rookwood’s smiling face sent a shiver down your spine as the killing curse backfired, leaving nothing but a pile of ash and clothes in its wake where he once stood.

The world has taken too much from you.

Flash— this one more painful than all the others. Solomon Sallow’s shocked face twisting in agony as his own kin struck him dead.

The world has taken too much from you.

Sebastian’s expression, a mix of raw anger and horror at what he’d done twisting under the weight of his actions, his wand falling from his hand and his retreating form running from the catacombs.

The world has taken too much from you.

Anne’s pain screaming into the wind as she clung to her dead uncle, the final member of her family left living besides her twin brother— a once beautiful and mischievous boy now turned murderer.

The world has taken too much from you. The world has taken too much from you. THE WORLD HAS TAKEN TOO MUCH FROM YOU.

You wailed into the night, your screams catching in the strong summer winds and being carried far away from your torturous misery. You begged for everything to stop, for the voice of your fallen mentor to leave you in peace for once since he died. Tears spilled down your cheeks like a never-ending tide of pain and despair, and you watched the salty water drip

down

down towards the concrete courtyard thousands of meters below. You were ready— you wanted this to end so badly, more than anything you had ever wanted in your life. Your hands felt sweaty against the cooled metal rungs of the balcony, your grip loosening bit by bit with each terrible thought that flew through your mind. You cast your teary eyes upwards towards the beautiful stars once again, irises frantically sifting through each and every blindingly bright light as you counted out the constellations you could name. A soft smile stretched across your face— a woebegone moment of acceptance masquerading as happiness.

Fig’s words were true, the world had taken too much from you, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. It was time that you gave up the rest voluntarily.

You had already accepted your death long ago— time eats all its children in the end.

The beautiful, ethereal stars were the last thing you saw before your eyelids closed, your wings stretching out at your sides as you took flight into the cold night air.

Hands roughly grasped at your wrist, stopping your forever tumble in its tracks and nearly yanking your arm from its socket. The pain registered slightly in your brain against the heavy fog that clouded everything around your head. Through the mist you could hear the shouts of someone, their voice calling for help from whoever they came with as they struggled to heave you back over the railing. Two more hands joined the fray, pulling with all their might to hoist your dead weight back to safety. You didn’t realize you were also speaking until the haze began to clear bit by bit.

“Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!”

Your body slammed against the stone floors of the Astronomy Tower— the sickeningly sweet song of death just out of reach once more. Two bodies panted next to you, four sets of arms wrapped around your waist as you struggled against their hold like a wild animal. Your fingernails dug into the flesh caging you in, your teeth gnashing and legs kicking as you struggled desperately back towards the call of your end. Wailed words tumbled from your throat, but you couldn’t hear them over the pounding of your heart.

“Let me go, you bastards! It’s all my fault— everything is my fault! I want to die— I deserve to die!”

The stench of copper shook you from your trance. The blackened sludge that slowed down everything in your skull bled from your ears and slapped against the floor below, giving way to the voices that pleaded with you from either side of your slouched form. Blood dripped down their forearms from the nail shaped indents you had left behind. Two faces were pressed tightly against your neck and back respectively, salty tears staining your nightshirt an overcasted dark grey.

The forms talked over each other, both voices cracking and croaking against the tightness in their throats and the tears that spilled from their broken hearts.

“Stop, please, Gods stop! I’m so sorry— we love you, we need you, so please stop this. I can’t lose you too— not you, anyone but you—”

“It’s not your fault! It’s not your fault! None of this is your fault—”

The scent of sandalwood, earl grey tea, and the crackling fire of your common room filled your senses, and you slumped heavily against the chest pressed against your back— all the fight leaving you with a grand sigh.

Sobs wracked your body as you curled into yourself, your knees pressed as close to your chest as they could get against the four strong arms holding you still and away from certain doom by your own hand. Sebastian pressed his face deeper into your skin, right where your neck met your back, and released more of his own sobs as he pulled you impossibly tighter against his chest. Ominis was in no better state, his arms also wrapped protectively around you from your left side as tremors shook through his entire body. He crushed you against him as well, pressing your head more against his lower face and pouring more tears into your windswept hair. Light kisses tickled your skin from both boys, their lips pressing frantically against your temple and shoulders like that simple act of love could heal all of your wounds, both internal and external. Who’s to say, maybe it could.

Ominis pressed his forehead against the side of yours, his mouth right next to your ear as he spoke. You could feel his panting breath against the pulse of your neck. “What did I say? You’re not alone in this world, so stop fighting like you are. I know you’re hurting, and you’ve been hurting for so much longer than either of us thought, but you’re so strong, little dove— you’re stronger than anyone else I know. Please don’t give up on us, don’t give up on the world just yet.” He took a deep, shaking breath, clearing his throat of the lump that lodged itself against his vocal chords. “One day you will find love in the sunrise again, and we will be there every step of the way. But please, don’t leave us quite yet— I don’t think my heart could take it. Just hold on until you love the sunrise again.”

Sebastian nodded in agreement against your shoulder blades, his throat still too clogged to get any words out. That was alright, his presence was more than enough for you.

The three of you stayed in the tower until the sun breached over the horizon, bathing the castle grounds in a gentle golden glow— like the world itself was being born anew. Everything would not be fixed in one night, it would take you months, maybe even years to feel like yourself again. But, you knew that no matter what, you and your boys were in this together.

***

AN:

If you are feeling a certain way after reading this, please know that you are not alone in this world. There are people who love you-- people who cherish the time you spend with them. Even if everything seems like it's the end of the world, like you have no one in your corner and the entire planet is against you, there will be a time where you will be truly happy again. As Ominis said, hold on until you love the sunrise again.

***

like what you read? here's more!

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justasimpleton-26 · 2 months ago

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Both entertaining and disheartening how much of the U.S is nothing but dumbasses. It's like they didn't bother to do research or have an understanding of what each president elective brought to the table.

Now, I wasn't impressed with either, mostly because of what they both preached about the conflicts going on in the Middle East, and I had hopes that even if they didn't call for a ceasefire, they could at least STOP aiding with YKW and giving them handouts so that money could be used for the U.S.

Maybe we'd have healthcare (doubt it), better wages (if corporate greed was eradicated), and there would be less harsh laws on women's anatomy (only if men would stop wanting to have a fierce control of what they don't understand.) but alas.

Just wishful thinking.

Trump voters on tiktok are EXTREMELY mad about the following:

They just found out what tariffs are

They just found out what denaturalization is

They (particularly black and Hispanic trump voters) just found out that other trump voters are racist

Leftists and liberals don't want to be their friends (they are furious about this)

Leftists keep telling them they hope they get what they voted for (they are really mad about this too)

#election 2024 #us politics

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rain-fluff · 10 months ago

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Journal Six

Everytime I sit myself down to write in these journal entries, I can't help but feel like Roxas from in 358/2 days; the wee lad had only come into existence for about a week and you expect him to just journal his feelings out when he doesn't even understand the concept of emotions until much later in the game. I'm aware I'm not some playable character in some JRPG but that doesn't mean I can't relate to his lack of experience when it comes to journalling. Well, not that I had zero experience prior to this course assignment but it's not like I ever bothered to even make it a habit! I don't really write down what I do because most of the time I'm relatively super unproductive doomscrolling my social medias.

Well, to say I was super unproductive is also a stretch because this week was the week I decided to finish and start my overdue art commissions which I will not share because A. I like the animosity of my "professional" art account and B. One of the commissions is probably something I should not disclose to the public willy-nilly on an account where my IRL friends can also identify me very easily (no, I will not elaborate on the content and if anything you can thank me for shielding your eyes of the horrors I get paid to draw).

I'm pretty proud of the work so far though, it feels like I've improved just a little bit more anatomy-wise and I should really get around to downloading different brushes online instead of relying on the default ones that IbisPaint has to offer. The defaults aren't bad per say, I just want to more variety that I'm comfortable using with. I'm also happy to hear that my clients are happy with my finished results/sketches and bless their patience because my slow ass could do better with my time management for this work. There's also another potential client I may have with a friend of a friend but I promised to finish my current ones before I could continue theirs.

What else have I done this week that doesn't make me look like a horrendous and chronically-online nerd? Not that it matters since many are aware I am one but it's not exactly something I'm 100% proud of either. I used to have complex but embraced being a nerd but now I feel like I should mask myself around certain folks when I joined my current uni. There's something about the environment that makes me want to shield myself from exposing too much. I do have friends from the uni that I can open up to but the level of comfort isn't necessarily on par with the comfort with my more introverted or high school friends.

Speaking of high school friends, One Ok Rock had recently released their vlog for their performance in KL last year and I could see my friends silhouette in the background of one the interviews they had with some of the concert-goers. I was kinda envious of those being interviewed but at the same time I also feel glad I'm not blasted on the official YouTube channel for thousands to see.

I still can't help but reminisce going to the concert though. There were some hiccups that I wish I hadn't started but the night itself was an experience I'll cherish just as much as when I went to see them the first time back in 2013. I also wish I had photos from the 2013 concert but alas the event organisers actually threatened the audience to shut down the whole performance if anyone was caught recording. I'll cherish my personal photos and clips of the 2023 concert where I can. It took a huge chunk of my Google storage though and I should really move them to hard drive when I can.

While we're on the topic of concerts, Final Fantasy has just announced today for their orchestra tour plans for Final Fantasy VII's soundtrack. Exciting right? It's not so exciting when you learn that's it's one of those occasions where they skip over Malaysia just to perform in Singapore instead. Tickets don't actually go on sale until sometime in May but I highly doubt I'll be able to save up enough for the entire logistics of staying in Singapore and purchasing the concert tickets themselves.

They used to come to Malaysia pre-covid so I'm both surprised and really dissapointed that they decided to skip over this time around. I really would've liked to hear One-Winged Angel live. For now I'll just settle to listening to the recorded versions online. I'm finally getting tired. It's 2:30 a.m. and I should get some shut eye where I can.

-rain

#Spotify

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dakrapatops · 1 year ago

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For ya end of year ask game 8, 13, but most importantly: 20! Gimme that good good knowledge

haii love :3

8: Game of the year?

if I'm being honest probably minecraft lol. it's basically the only game I've played this year. shout out to minecraft love u babe

13: How was your birthday this year?

nothing special. it was on a Tuesday (ew) so I was at school. not fun in that sense. my family kind of forgot but my friends didn't and tbh I'd rather celebrate with my friends. uhhh i went out to dinner at a Greek restaurant and the food was so fucking good hngngnhngngngn

20: What’s something you learned this year?

everything I've learned this year has been absorbed so deep into my brain that I feel like I've known it for ever. um.

things that stick out:

unfortunately you do need to study anatomy to get better at drawing. I wish this wasn't true. but alas

nothing matters unless you want it to. that sounds bad but i prommy it isnt. idk how to put it into a scenario so just trust me

be yourself 🫶 it's so cringy I know but it's so important. i love you

#thanks for asking <3333 #love you<33333

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apurekindness · 7 months ago

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"No need to apologise, all men are unaware," she assured him, with a twitch of her lips. "I have always wished to become a doctor, but alas...I was born the wrong sex." Even without her powers, she thought she would make an excellent healer - she'd absorbed all the knowledge she could from any books on anatomy and physiology that she could get her hands on.

Her small smile quickly faded, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. "I am sure he does not...but he has just turned nineteen," she explained. Hardly older than a boy. "He still seems such a child, to me."

Heart thudding uneasily in her chest, she swallowed and nodded in agreement to his words. "If that wouldn't be too much trouble? You are right, I think answers would be better." Still, she couldn't shake off the feeling that it would be bad news. "And then I can write to my mother, I am sure she is worried sick."

"Oh..." Sheepish, Benjamin cleared his throat and offered a strained smile. "I suppose I wouldn't know that...my apologies. I have no mother nor sister to speak of, so I'm afraid I'm not privy to any feminine struggles."

With Kiara's admission, the sinking sensation inside his gut increased. "How old is he?" Benjamin asked. "I was the youngest in my family...so speaking from personal experience, I can guarantee he doesn't feel 'too young' to serve."

With Kiara's concerns more plain, his conciliatory smile faded. "I could send word to his regiment, if you'd like? To see if the officers there can alleviate your fears?" Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he sighed and lifted his shoulders. "I understand not wanting to know -- I do -- but wouldn't it also be better to have answers? Perhaps you've been worrying for nothing."

#honorhearted #//i knooow!! and ben was so surprised to see how happy and relaxed kiara was #//making jokes and everything #//alas not for long XD thanks ben

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mm2305 · 3 years ago

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What Ethan & Olivia AU is this? #OpenHeartAU

An eventful encounter

Pairing : Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Valentine || Rating/Genre : Teen+/romance, general || Warnings / Words : none / 2.8k ||Setting : Alternate Universe - Regency Era || Disclaimer : all characters and pictures belong to the rightful owners

Summary : During one of her trips in town, Olivia meets the newly-arrived Dr. Ramsey.

A/N : Let me start by saying that this has been in my inbox for almost a month and I'm so sorry for the long wait. Secondly, this was something completely new to me, since it's set in a different time and universe, but still very fun to write! No beta, so all mistakes are mine. I really hope this comes out good enough :)

Enjoy!

My masterlist

-/-

Somewhere in the England of 1816

Olivia's pov

"Oh come on you little bugger", a young woman sighed exasperated, looking at her reflection in the vanity. She had been trying for the last twenty minutes to gather her long hair with some pins, but it was difficult to contain all of it in them. Finally, she got ready and rushed down the stairs of her home, Edenbrook Manor.

"Mrs Clarke? Where are you?"

"I am in the kitchens Miss Olivia!", the other woman replied.

Olivia followed the stairwell leading to the kitchen and greeted Mrs Clarke, one of the people who worked in her home. She was more than that to her though, since she was the one who practically raised her, her friend and closest confidant. Her father, Ernest Valentine, was a merchant, quite known for his successful business, but was away from home most of the year, coming only a few weeks at a time. Therefore, her mother, Anne Valentine, was left to manage most of the affairs regarding the estate and surrounding grounds they owned. Both did love her dearly, they just didn't have time for her. Since she had no siblings, she was left with no one's company but Mrs Clarke's ,who in her and her family's eyes had become a member of the Valentine family too.

"Do you need anything else from the market Mrs Clarke?"

"No Miss, that's everything we need. Are you sure you want to go, though ?"

Having grown up close to her, Olivia was always helping around the house in whatever ways she could, even though she wasn't expected or needed to do so. Of course, she didn't neglect her occasional music , embroidery and drawing lessons, even though her true passion was biology, anatomy and science. In another world she imagined herself being a doctor, but since that wasn't possible, she just made the best of the situation at home, doing many things to pass her time.

"Of course! It will be a great chance for me to get some fresh air since I have not been out for a while. I promise I will be careful."

"Alright dear. Then you had better go now, it's quite a walk to the market.Who knows, you may meet somebody worth going to a ball with today."

"Not likely Mrs Clarke. And besides, you know I have high standards."

With a slight wave to Mrs Clarke, Olivia took her basket and headed out of the Manor.

----------

After a long, refreshing walk, Olivia reached the local food market. Rows upon rows of products had filled the sides of the road, the smell of flowers, herbs and fresh fruit invading her senses. People moved at their own pace, some slow and others faster, with baskets of their own at hand and doing their shopping. The whole street seemed to have come alive on that warm, autumn afternoon, creating a charming, quaint picture.

In just a few minutes she had gathered everything she needed, her basket full of herbs, vegetables and fruit. Ready to go home, she turned around, towards the end of the market, not noticing the tall man coming her way and colliding with him, the force knocking her down on the ground.

"I am so sorry sir, I did not mean --"

"Forgive me Miss I --", they both started apologizing at the same time. Olivia noticed she was still on the ground and the stranger offered his hand and carefully helped her back on her feet.

Finally looking up at him, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

The stranger was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. He was tall with a strong physique. His hair was a dark mahogany brown color, just visible in his hat, leading to his piercing, ocean blue eyes. He had a sharp jawline with high cheekbones and she was sure that his smile would be just as beautiful as the rest of his face.

His warm hand was still holding hers, the gesture sending sparks through her body. The man, noticing he was still holding her hand, cleared his throat and dropped it gently.

"I am deeply sorry, Miss. I hope you are not hurt.", he said in a deep yet gentle voice.

"I am alright, thank you for your assistance Mr..?"

"Ramsey. Ethan Ramsey. And you are?"

"Olivia Valentine, sir, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine. Oh! You dropped your basket!". He immediately bent down to gather the scattered apples, pears and whatever else could be saved.

"Please allow me, you need not do this…", she also kneeled beside him to gather the items, her hand going to catch an apple at the same time as Mr. Ramsey,their fingers briefly touching. They both locked eyes again, the movement making Olivia's cheeks redden in color. Did he feel that too? Looking away from his eyes for the sake of modesty and back at her now half full basket, she realized that she had to start making her way back home soon, if she wanted to make it before dinner. With a small sigh, she got up and dusted her dress,more than a little disappointed that she hadn't had the time to learn anything about Mr. Ramsey.

"Thank you once more Mr Ramsey. I sincerely apologize for falling onto you. If you'll excuse me, I need to return back home. I wish you a pleasant afternoon. ", she smiled softly at him and curtsied briefly before turning her back to him and starting walking. Hmm… I have never seen him before in town. Maybe Mrs. Clarke knows something about him. She decided she would ask Mrs. Clarke for more information when she reached home. Alas, she had not made it three feet away when Olivia heard him coming behind her.

" Ms. Valentine? "

" Yes? ", Olivia turned around curiously looking at him.

" Would you allow me to walk you back to your house? I… It's the least I could do for you after our eventful encounter", he asked with a hint of a smile on his face.

He really is handsome, she thought wordlessly. Was this her chance to get to know the mysterious man better? Was this a chance for a new friendship to bloom? Maybe something more? "Stop getting ahead of yourself Olivia. You just met this man! He may even be married!", The little voice in her mind warned her, but her heart, full of excitement at the prospect of getting to know him better, had already decided.

" I would love to"

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

Ethan's pov

Ethan was absentmindedly walking across the stone paved streets of the town he had just moved in. Or rather, his new residence was close to this town. Instead of taking his horse, he decided to take a walk from his house to the town, to get a feeling of orientation around this new place. Being prepared and feeling in control, made him feel more confident in himself, particularly since he was not good at social interactions. Being a man of solitude and always focused on his work, made him unwilling to make any meaningless acquaintances, the frivolous events he was often invited to, being of no essence to him. It was because of his work that he decided to move here.

Immersed in his thoughts as he was, he didn't notice the young lady that accidentally ran directly into him. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground, Ethan immediately apologizing and offering his hand to help her back up.

When the young woman looked up at him, he was left speechless.

This lady, whoever she was, was easily the most beautiful woman he had encountered in all the thirty years of his life. She had golden, blond hair that seemed softer than the most expensive silk and a spotless, alabaster skin. Her big, forest green eyes seemed to be able to see right through his soul and her rosy, full lips were in perfect harmony with her features. She was quite shorter than him, her head just reaching his shoulder and he could guess, even through the many layers of clothing, that she had a lean, feminine frame.

Her hand was soft and small in his and that's when he noticed he was still holding it. Clearing his throat to collect himself, he apologized again to her.

"I am alright, thank you for your assistance Mr..?", she asked him, her voice sounding like the most beautiful of melodies.

"Ramsey. Ethan Ramsey. And you are?"

"Olivia Valentine, sir, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Where have I heard that name from though? Catching himself being so entranced in this lady he just met, he allowed his eyes to wander away from her, when he noticed her basket, previously full of products, now scattered on the ground. He set down to gather whatever could be saved, knowing he must seem like a fool for doing what a gentleman would never probably do. All his thoughts flew out of the window, when he felt that spark again from both their fingers closing around an apple. Olivia's cheeks turned in a color close to the apple she was holding, making her seem even more beautiful than before. What is it that has me totally mesmerized by this woman?

To his great displeasure, their brief encounter would have to be cut short, since she had to return back to her house. Wishing him farewell, she began walking away but before he fully thought about what he was about to ask, his feet were carrying him towards her.

"Ms Valentine?"

She turned around, clearly wondering what he wanted to ask from her. "Yes?"

Taking a deep breath he gathered the courage to ask her what he wanted. "Would you allow me to walk you back to your house? I… -he staggered even though he never did before, looking for a reason to convince not only her but himself too as to why he was doing this for someone he just met - It's the least I could do for you after our eventful encounter", he added with a small smile.

For a few seconds that really seemed to stretch into hours, he could see the wheels in her mind turning, before she looked up at him and said the words he so much had come to want to hear.

"I would love to"

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

Olivia's pov

Ethan offered her his arm to take and Olivia weaved hers through it, her hand settled at the crook of his arm.

They began walking and for a few minutes no one said anything, a somewhat awkward silence setting over them. Neither of them seemed sure as to what they should say to break the ice. Finally Ethan, with a small cough, began talking to her.

"Do you live far from town, Miss Valentine?"

"My home, Edenbrook Manor, is about an hour and a half away from here."

"Oh! I actually bought a residence that is, apparently, close to your house."

"So you are the new doctor who bought Kenmore Park!"

"Indeed, I am"

"May I ask what made you choose to come here? I have the feeling you have been offered better and perhaps more, financially speaking, beneficial positions in bigger towns or cities."

He didn't hesitate to answer. "I was offered a position in this hospital and I was instantly aware that here, I could be more useful since there are not many doctors willing to work in a more rural area. Besides, I had missed the countryside. Has my arrival become such a popular issue here? ", he raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"Yes and no, Dr. Ramsey." she put emphasis on the Doctor, teasing him back too.

Ethan lowered his eyes, seeming a little sheepish. "Ah well… I could not find it in my heart to correct you, Miss. I am sorry."

Olivia chuckled, waving her hand dismissively. "You do not need to worry about it, I assure you."

"You see, this is a relatively small town and it is rare that something new happens. People have the tendency to talk. Or rather gossip, if I am being honest. But I actually learnt about you, from my maid, Mrs Clarke. I do not really get out of the house a lot."

"May I ask why?", Mr. Ramsey asked. Then as if considering how indiscreet he must seem, he sucked in a breath and turned to her. "I am sorry, Miss Valentine, it was not my place to ask."

For some reason, Olivia found herself not minding. Normally, she would not be interested in having a conversation with a man, knowing that at her age every move was scrutinized by potential suitors. That is why she remained unmarried at the age of four and twenty, much to society's disappointment. She just could not bind herself to a loveless marriage of interest. However, with Ethan, talking was easy and she felt surprisingly comfortable with this man she only met an hour ago.

"Well. I remain unmarried at the age of four and twenty and people like I said before, tend to talk. I find myself uninterested in what they say but it does make everyday life easier, since I do not have to hear my parents and Mrs Clarke trying to convince me to attend balls at every chance.", she rolled her eyes with what she felt was loving exasperation.

"I honestly could not imagine a woman such as yourself not being asked for her hand in marriage", Dr. Ramsey said, his face carefully neutral at her admission.

"It is not that I have not received any proposals, but it is I who refuses. My father is quite successful at his profession and those suitors were clearly interested in my family's wealth, not me."

"Then yours was a wise decision to make, if you allow me to say this, Miss."

Nodding silently, Olivia contemplated asking the question that had been in her mind ever since they began their walk. Oh just do it already Olivia. Before she could think further about it, she blurted out her question.

" How about you, Dr. Ramsey? Is there a wife waiting for you at home?"

"No, actually. Much like your case, I have no interest in people not caring about the important things in a marriage. That is not to say I stand against the institution. But, there has not been the right person in my life, so far."

A small, imperceptible smile graced her lips at his answer.

"I assume you are quite taken with your job, no? Since you moved to a different area, just because you want to help here…", Olivia changed the topic after a moment, her tone more cheerful and her heart longing to hear how life as a physician is.

"Indeed I am. Of course I owe all the skills I have acquired, to my mentor, Dr. Naveen Banerji head of Solomon's Hospital in London and professor at --"

"Edinburgh Medical School.",she finished with something that could only be described as wonder in her eyes.

" But how do you know?", he turned to her, surprised that she had heard of Naveen.

Olivia's eyes lowered to the ground, knowing that what she was about to say, would make him laugh at her.

"I… I study biology, anatomy and science whenever I can. I know it is something impossible for a woman in our times, but if I had the chance, I would love to take a proper apprenticeship and become a physician. Naturally, I cannot help but be informed about everything surrounding the medical world. And Dr. Banerji is one of the best doctors in the country. "

When she reluctantly looked back into the eyes that seemed to call for her, she saw an emotion similar to admiration in them. What for, she could not understand , but it made the butterflies in her stomach flutter excitedly.

" Miss Valentine, I've known you for just about two hours and yet, I can confidently say that your intelligence would make you an excellent physician. Please, do not hesitate to ask me anything if you have questions, it would be my pleasure to answer them for you.", Ethan assured her, his voice sincere and the opposite of what she expected to hear.

Olivia's face lightened up at that and she started excitedly asking him several questions, for the rest of the way to her house. It had been a long time since she had met someone not dismissing her love for medicine and even longer since she sincerely enjoyed talking to another person besides her family.

"Maybe this could finally really be the start of something worth exploring", they both thought, grinning happily for the rest of the way back, perfectly content in each other's company.

-/-

A/N : if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

Tags (let me know if you want to be added or removed and if you want to be moved to another category) :

Perma (all edits and fics) : @romewritingshop @codykosuckmytoe @sophxwithers @actuallybored @potionsprefect @ethansramsey @crystalwillow @gryffindordaughterofathena @kiara-36 @mrsethanfreakingramsey @writer-ish @panda9584 @genevievemd @jamespotterthefirst @queencarb @shanzay44 @nikki-2406 @starryeyedrookie @coffeeheartaddict @schnitzelbutterfingers @mysticaurathings @starrystarrytrouble @lsvdw-blog @izzyourresidentlawyer @silma-words @stygianflood @headoverheelsforramsey @maurine07 @natureblooms24 @a-crepusculo

Fics : @alina-yol-ramsey // Regency era fics : @princess-geek

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loverdrew · 4 years ago

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Just A Little Longer | s.r

(not my gif)

Synopsis: A day out on the field doesn’t go as planned, and Y/N is thrown into am ambulance to Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital before anyone can help.

A Grey’s Anatomy x Criminal Minds crossover.

Warnings: none (?)

There was a ringing in the air louder than the one you hear everyday. I felt my breathing hinder. My eyes can only open so wide, enough to see the light, but once by my side, could see only a dark substance quickly oozing out of my body. As I came to, I could tell it was getting harder and harder to breathe, a sharp pain with every inhale and exhale. Upon instinct, I checked my fingers for mobility, feeling that they could move slightly. At least this means I am not paralyzed in my upper body. There was no other noise for a few more minutes, just a slight rustling of trees and the dirt road beneath me. I don’t even remember the initial shot being taken, whether it was from me or him. All I remember is instantly falling to the floor once I arrived on the scene. I just laid in my own blood, the realization that no one may be coming for me.

“Y/N! Y/N! Wake up!” I could faintly hear from what felt like a mile away. My brain perked at the voice, definitively Morgan, but my body would not react. I tried with every might to move my limbs once again but alas, nothing. It was if my brain was screaming and sending pulses to my muscles but it just refused to move. I started to feel hands all over me, lifting me and placing me on what I could imagine was a gurney, as it moved. My sense of hearing coming in full force, beginning to hear people talking and shuffling. Hotch and Morgan were asking where I was being transported to and Emily and JJ consoling someone else who I could hear was practically sobbing.

“They’re going to take care of her, c’mon let’s just go follow them now!” Emily yelled to everyone. But that distressed someone fought back.

“No! She’s not even moving! They’re intubating her! Emily she’s dying!”

Spencer....?

“Reid, you want to help her? Get out of here and go to the hospital.” Hotch firmly said, I could even tell he probably put his hands on Reid, as the sound of prominent footsteps were halted. And the next thing I heard was doors closing, and the sirens blaring.

Once we had arrived at the hospital, I heard a woman’s voice that sounded very strong, like she was in charge.

“What do we got?” She asked.

“GW to the left ribcage, she’s lost a lot of blood, almost 2 pints. We’ve been intubating her since we got to the scene but Bailey, it doesn’t look too good. Possible head contusion when she hit the floor as well.” The EMT stated.

“Alright I’ll page Shepard and Hunt immediately. Out of the way everybody! FBI agent coming through!” And my gurney started moving even faster, winding down a short hallway into a room where I could hear many doctors coming to look at my wounds. I felt absolutely helpless, not being able to communicate what hurts for me. What if they miss something? What if they can’t help me in time? The EMT said I lost a lot of blood, what if it’s too much to come back from?

“Hang 2 units of O neg now!” A man with a deep voice yelled out. I could feel big, callus hands turning me on my back, and the next thing I knew a needle was being shoved in my arm and a warm sensation filling my arm.

“Owen she needs to go up to CT now or she’s not going to make it.” A woman with a softer voice spoke next to the man.

“Amelia she needs this wound patched first or she’ll bleed out and then she won’t even have a chance in CT.” He raised his voice at her, kind of like how Hotch can be sometimes.

“Let me see, I can patch quickly if everyone gives me space. Looks like the bullet left through the back as well.” This time it was another man with a softer voice than the first, and instantly felt his delicate hands holding onto my ribs, feeling a metal substance touching my skin. By my analysis, he’s most likely a plastics surgeon. Only a man in plastics has such delicate touch.

“Well hurry Jackson she’s got about 10 minutes before that brain contusion completely debilitates her and she’ll be in a coma.”

“Yea I got it.” He said nonchalant.

The sounds of beeping and shuffling were quickly interrupted by deep screams, of which belonged to the lanky pretty boy. My heart rate instantly got faster the second his voice entered the room.

“Sir, sir who are you?” The plastics guy asked urgently.

“I-I’m her, her uh- I’m just a friend, please let me be next to her.” He pleaded, rasp in his voice. I can tell he had been crying the whole ride over.

“Okay, sir you’re gonna have to wait with everybody else, she’s in a lot of distress and she’s lost a lot of blood. We’re doing everything we can for her.” Almost on cue, my heart monitor started spazzing. The loud beeping indicating I’m going into cardiac failure.

“She’s in V-fib, get the defibrillator now!” The man with the lower voice yelled. I felt the clothing on my body being ripped open, a few buttons popping and flying off. The patches were on and in a few seconds, I felt the shock and I could feel it vibrate every vessel inside me. They cleared a second a time, my heart rate returning to normal.

“Okay Jackson you’re gonna have to finish her later she needs a head scan now.” The women voiced, and immediately I could feel the gurney being whisked and into an elevator, going up to the CT room.

Being in the big machine and hearing the slight “ZZZ” sound felt like the first time of peace since my brain fully woke up. For a few hours now I was being poked and prodded, not even getting a chance to hear my own thoughts. This was the only time I got to really savor whatever life I had left, to really hear and feel the people I love around me, and to prepare for what could happen. It felt inevitable to try and escape death, it was a part of my job. And the one regret I’d have is not being the real me with the person I loved most in this world. That tall, pretty, incredible genius was the love of my life for the past 3 years I’ve been with the BAU, and he was everything and more I could’ve ever dreamed of and better. I could physically feel my heart aching at the way his voice cracked yelling for me. I wished nothing more than to look him straight in the eye and hold his hands, telling him I’ll be okay. The way he stuttered when he said friend, so unsure. We had kissed just a few days ago, after a long day of work he came by my hotel room and finally expressed his feelings after so long. The fireworks we shared were something out of a book. The way his hands fit around my face, holding me so close and so softly as if I were glass and he was afraid to break it. We hadn’t talked about it since, but we figured we had more time. But now I realize time is never guaranteed.

Within 30 minutes I was in a regular room, the plastics man working on sowing back up my wounds. “You, Ms.Y/N are one of the luckiest gunshot victims I’ve seen; no severe tears. Which means this just needs a quick stitch and you’ll be all set.” He said softly to me, I could feel a smile on his face as he spoke.

I heard another person walk into the room, footsteps almost so quiet.

“H-How, how is she Dr.?” He was shaking.

“The CT showed some swelling but no internal bleeding. We’re going to keep her here overnight but I’m sorry, I don’t know if and when she’ll wake up. That’s all up to her.” The women sadly spoke, unsure of even her own diagnosis.

I heard Spencer start to cry again, a loud puff coming from deep in his chest.

“Dr. Reid, could you please sit with me.” The two of them stepped to sit in the 2 seats next to my bed.

“I know what it feels like to be in a field of study where, you know everything there is to know. And I also know what it feels like to be completely out of control in that field, when you know what to do, but you can’t even do it.” She sighed. “I am one of the best neurosurgeons in the country, I know almost everything...but yet I had a brother who died of a brain injury. I could’ve been there to help him but I couldn’t do a damn thing. I know what this feels like.” Reid started crying harder, his cries muffled by his own hands. He was trying so hard not to let the sounds leak from the room, but it did and it made my bones stand still.

“I had a mentor who was in a coma, and even though I’m in plastics”- (told y’all) -”there was still nothing I could do for him. We just had to wait. He was one of my greatest friends, one of the best people you’d ever meet, so loved. The love of his life died in front of his eyes and I think most of us knew he’d be going next, to be with her. Life was too painful without her. Do you love this girl right here?” Spencers respond came almost immediately.

“More than anybody or anything.”

“Then wait, just a little longer. If she loves you like you love her she’s going to fight to wake up and be alive.” Both of the doctors walked out, leaving me and my lover boy.

His veiny hands grabbed onto mine, rubbing softly at my knuckles.

“I’m gonna do what he said, just wait a little longer. But please Y/N, if you can hear me, come back to me.” He cried into my hand, the tears coating it.

As if the Gods granted it themselves, I moved my eyelids open. Very slowly, and it hurt to do so, but they opened. Spencer sensed movement, and his head instantly came up holding on tighter to my hand. A weak smile placed on my face as my tired eyes loving locked with his.

“Waiting for me?”

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid masterlist #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler imagine

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feyres-divorce-lawyer · 8 months ago

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oooh yay!

🍓 How did you get into writing fanfiction?

The Second Best Cinematic Universe. There was a really popular Darklina fic called Second Best and the premise was if another Sun Summoner had been discovered after Alina. It spawned so many things other fics that spiralled into the SBCU and I wanted to write my own.

🍇 How many fandoms have you written in?

Five (technically four if you count Maribat as a separate fandom on its own). Shadow and Bone, Acotar, Winx Club, Miraculous Ladybug, and Batman

🍈 How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

Two years now. My first was in May (?) ‘22 I think. I’ve definitely deleted that doc but it was around that time.

🍎 Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Definitely read, wish I could write as much as I read but alas

🍌What is one way you’ve improved as a writer?

My dialogue. Infinitely better and less choppy.

🍑 Do you have any bad habits as a writer?

Heavy handed metaphors and spending too long describing things. Gotta lessen that

🍍What’s the weirdest topic you’ve researched for a writing project?

How royal navies work and human anatomy

🍉 What’s your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

Literally any, like I’d frame them all if I could.

🍐 What’s the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Feyre with the Valkyrie plot, it’s me and Eon against the world

🥭 What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Modern AU’s. I think it’s cuz I have no adult life experience and I refuse to put these characters in high school.

🍏 What is the eastiest type?

Non-linear. It meshes so well with my writing process because I never write beginning to end. Sometimes I’ll have an end without a beginning so non-linear is just perfect.

🍋 What is something you’ve been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

A Feysand fic that has been rolling in my head for months. Not intimidated persay, but trying to write my version of Rhysand is like pulling teeth.

🍇 What made you choose your username?

Feyre needed one.

npt: @kateprincessofbluewhales, @r-biter, @positivelyruined, @bookishfeylin, @goforth-ladymidnight, @foxcort

Answer the questions and tag five fanfiction authors you know!

Thanks so much for the tag @tunaababee 🥰 The post got a bit long, so went ahead and made a fresh one....

🍓 How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I joined the 1D fandom back in 2011, which was my first foray into the world of fanfiction. Started writing some drabbles and imagines here on Tumblr which then led to proper fics which then led to where I am today

🍇 How many fandoms have you written in?

Just three! One Direction, All For the Game, and now ACOTAR

🍈 How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I think I wrote my first proper fanfiction in... 2012? 2013? So I guess technically over a decade, but I did take a break from fandom and fanfiction writing in 2017 before returning in 2021, soooo how are we counting here?

🍎 Do you read or write more fanfiction?

Recently, I've been writing more than reading. I like to spend my evenings after work and dinner writing

🍌 What is one way you've improved as a writer?

Well, if you ask certain people, it's that I now write smut 😂 I never wrote smut before the ACOTAR fandom and even then, I didn't write smut until a good number of fics in.... and now look at me! Writing gargoyles and fae men in the woods 💀

🍑 Do you have any bad habits as a writer?

It's absolutely the way I have a bad tendency to repeat phrases and words over and over again across all my fics

🍍 What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Basically everything I researched for Falling For Your Fools Gold. I went really deep into pirate facts and uncovered so many weird but interesting things 🍋🍋🍋

🍉 What's your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I mean 10/10 I love any comment that my fics receive! But I do have a special place for people losing their minds or the ones calling Cassian an idiot (affectionately)

🍐 What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Does Rhysta count? That feels a bit fringe just because it's most definitely a crack-ship

🥭 What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

Probably canon-verse? I think my overall issues with canon and the mess that is canon makes it hard sometimes to fit stories and characters within those confines while still achieving what I want from the story/characters

🍏 What is the easiest type?

Modern AU, fluffy little drabble!

🍋 What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

Feysand

🍇 What made you choose your username?

My AO3 name is of course related to my 1D days. The Lou being Louis Tomlinson. And pumpkin spice just being delicious. So voila! Pumpkinspice_Lou

Tagging with no pressure: @moodymelanist @kale-theteaqueen @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @talkfantasytome @unhealthyfanobsession

#thank you gem♥️♥️♥️#tag game #get to know me #acotar

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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Good Omens - A Historic Blunder (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley shows up in the Bastille to rescue Aziraphale, but for some reason, when he snaps his fingers, it doesn't only release Aziraphale from his chains, it switches their places. Miffed at all of Crowley's mean comments about his beautiful suit, Aziraphale doesn't just opt to free Crowley, but forces him to earn his way out of his chains by putting his smart mouth and sharp tongue to better use. (1999 words)

Notes: Written for the @coldomenszine - nsfw digital-only edition. Warning for bondage and oral.

Read on AO3.

“What in the …?" Crowley glares at the shackles clamped around his wrists and Aziraphale's gold brocade suit miraculously tailored to his body. His eyes dart over to Aziraphale, clothed in the burgundy coat he arrived in. "Why am I wearing your clothes? And your chains? How the Heaven did this happen?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale says, massaging his wrists, rubbed raw by the shackles he'd been locked in. Indeed, how did this happen? Just moments ago, between pleasant banter and derisive remarks in regard to Aziraphale's unfortunate clothing choices, Crowley had snapped his fingers, performing a demonic miracle to set Aziraphale free. Which he did, so, of course, well done him. But now Crowley is the one in chains ...

... while Aziraphale is dressed like a peasant.

"Are you losing your touch?"

"Very funny.” Crowley snaps his fingers again. And again. And again. But no matter what he does, he can’t break free.

Most of what he'd intended when he snapped his fingers happened. Aziraphale is unbound, and the guard who had been sent to fetch him standing paralyzed in the corner. Other than that, nothing else worked the way it was supposed to.

It's almost as if his spell backfired.

"Could this be a punishment from Hell for you rescuing me?" Aziraphale asks with genuine confusion. "You said your lot don't send rude notes. Could they have taken away your power instead?"

“Don’t know," Crowley says, examining his hands for answers. "Does seem like something they'd do.”

Aziraphale gasps. "Maybe they know you're here, and this was a test! Or maybe this isn't Hell's doing at all! Maybe this is Heaven's!" He looks up and around, trying to sense any Holy influence in their midst. If he finds any, he's going to be very put off, seeing as they made no move whatsoever to aid him.

"All interesting theories," Crowley agrees, giving the shackles a tug, checking their strength. "Theories I would love to discuss with you at length somewhere other than here. So why don't you get me out of this mess?"

Aziraphale tuts at Crowley's tone. He's every inch a demon of Hell, with demon manners, too. "What's the magic word?"

Crowley rolls his eyes. He considers not saying it out of spite, but what other option has he? "Please."

"Could you possibly say it nicer?"

Crowley fixes Aziraphale with the fire of his fierce, yellow eyes. "No."

"Fine." Aziraphale raises a hand to snap his fingers, but he hesitates.

"Wot?" Crowley shakes the chains to remind Aziraphale what he should be doing. "Wot's the matter?"

“I don't know."

"Wot do you mean you don't know?"

"It was nice of you to sweep in here and help me, but you're being mean to me."

"I'm being mean to you?"

"You made fun of my clothes!”

Crowley sputters like a car struggling to start. “You’re ... you're ... you're going to let me get discorporated because I made a comment about your outfit?”

“It was rude! I'll have you know that suit was a gift from Marie Antoinette herself!”

"Pfft. Fitting you'd be wearing it here then."

Aziraphale tsks in disgust. "Was that really necessary?"

Footsteps overhead, coupled with the sounds of cells opening and shrill cries for mercy, draw Crowley's attention away, make him swallow hard. "Okay, look, none of that matters right now! I got you out of your chains, yes? Tit for tat, angel. Bust me out!"

"Quite right, quite right. I could do that. Bust you out, as you say. But what’s in it for me?”

"Aside from you not losing your head?"

"Yes. Obviously. Aside from that."

“I’ll take you to lunch," Crowley offers.

Aziraphale shrugs. “Alas, I’ve already eaten.”

Crowley pulls a face. “That’s never mattered before!”

“Yes ..." Aziraphale grins "... but today it does.”

"Wot else could you possibly want?"

"What are you willing to give me?"

Crowley crosses his arms over his chest, fumbling with the cumbersome metal links so he can manage it. "I know you've got something on your mind, angel. So could you help me out? Give me a hint?"

"Well ..." Aziraphale rolls his eyes to the ceiling, stalling in the hopes Crowley might figure it out "... it's been terribly stressful here, locked up by myself, waiting to be executed ..." He busies himself picking nonexistent lint from Crowley's jacket, feigning nonchalance. He has no intention of letting Crowley lose his head. He's having a bit of fun with him.

But maybe he can finagle a little something more.

"So you're wanting something to relieve your stress, is that it?"

"Perhaps ..."

Crowley smirks. "The stress of being locked up or the stress of being an arsehole?"

Aziraphale huffs. “Remember, my dear, I can’t stop time the way you can so we don’t have a lot to play around with.”

“How much time are we talking about exactly?” Crowley asks, dropping to his knees. Aziraphale hides his triumphant grin behind a scowl when he sees the immaculate hem of his pants and the toes of his satin shoes come in contact with the grimy floor.

“There are guards strolling the halls, checking on prisoners several floors above us. There’s one a few floors down doing the same, coming up this way. So I’d say you have roughly twenty minutes.”

"Twenty minutes!?”

“Nineteen now.”

“Knowing the response time of your cock when faced with my tongue, I’d say that’s more time than I need.”

Aziraphale glowers. "Eighteen ..."

"Alright, alright! Help me out! Undo your trousers!"

"You're already down there. I'd say you're in a better position to undo them, don't you?"

"Bastard!" Crowley growls. He snaps his fingers, quadruple checking that it won't work. Wouldn't it be the dog's bollocks if his magic came back in time to shove Aziraphale's snarky attitude right back in his face?

But it doesn't.

Crowley unfastens the fall-front of Aziraphale's trousers, the rough metal of the shackles doing no favors for his wrists in this position, but that barely fazes him, focused on this particular task.

It's been ages since he's seen angel's cock.

He removes it from the confines of angel's trousers, holds it in his hand, and wonders - has it gotten bigger since? Has Aziraphale been putting extra effort into this part of his anatomy since the last time they were together?

Or is he doing this now for Crowley's benefit?

To make Crowley desire him?

Crowley opens wide, takes him in his mouth, but slowly. More slowly than usual. They might be pressed for time, but Crowley feels a need for vengeance. He's going to drag this out, use all of the eighteen - no, seventeen - minutes they have to frustrate the Hell out of Aziraphale.

Teach him a lesson he won't forget anytime soon.

Crowley's lips around Aziraphale's cock nearly discorporate Aziraphale in an instant. It's been too long since he's sampled this demon's pleasures - his warm mouth, his quick wit.

His exquisite company.

"That's is," Aziraphale moans as Crowley wraps his serpent tongue around him, then drags it down his length. "That definitely hits the spot."

Crowley pulls away. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. My knees are aching like Christ on the cross."

"Too soon, my dear," Aziraphale mutters, eyelids fluttering shut to block out sounds of clattering chains, guards coming ever closer, screams of prisoners dragged to their deaths, the ominous drop of the guillotine. "Too soon."

This is the way things have been between them for as long as Crowley can remember. These small indiscretions, stolen taboos, are all they're allowed. They never know when they will have time together, so they relish it whenever it comes along. As fun as it is riling angel up, Crowley can't help wishing he could do things up proper: in the quiet of his flat, on a bed of rose petals, with a bottle of champagne, a bowl of fresh cream, and all the time in the world to enjoy it.

“Crowley!" Aziraphale whines, hips bucking, desperation saturating every breath. "They're coming!"

"Are you?"

"This isn't the time for humor!"

"How much time do we have left?"

"We don't have any left!”

As if on cue, the guards Aziraphale has been sensing arrive, going on loudly about what could have happened to their companion (Marcel - the man stuck in the corner). They stop, do a double-take, then go bug-eyed when they spot Crowley, dressed like a member of the haut monde, on his knees in front of Aziraphale.

At first, they don't know what to make of it. They would chalk it up as a victory if not for the fact that, even dressed like one of them, they have no idea who Aziraphale is. And though they recognize the fancy suit Crowley is sporting, they have no clue how the man inside went from plump and pale to thin with flaming red hair and dark glasses.

They try to think up a practical explanation, but as former men of faith, they come to the conclusion that what's going on inside the cell is the work of the Devil. They hurry off, presumably to summon back-up, screaming about witchcraft and perversion. Aziraphale doesn't know for sure. They could be yelling about the weather. His grasp of conversational French isn't as good as it should be. He could ask Crowley to translate, but he wouldn't remove his mouth from his cock for anything.

Tragically, Crowley does so himself. "I think we've been spotted."

"How did you guess?"

"Are you even close?"

"Yes! Yes, I am! I ... oh, let me! May I?" Aziraphale grabs Crowley's head but waits for a consenting nod before he holds him still and fucks his mouth to the finish. And Crowley lets him. He may as well have some fun with his mouth before he and his head become strangers. Not that he thinks Aziraphale would leave him there to be beheaded.

But would he?

"Oh! Oh, dear! Oh for Heaven's ...!" Aziraphale comes down Crowley's throat in a wash of Holy light enough to burn straight through to his stomach, but that's part of what he enjoys about letting angel use him.

That taste of Heaven that accompanies his orgasm.

"Oh my goodness!" Aziraphale pants. "That was exceptional, my dear. Bravo. You really know how to rise to a challenge."

"I'm glad you're satisfied." Crowley wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then licks up every last drop. "But there's still the matter of you breaking me out."

"Yes ..." Aziraphale awkwardly clears his throat "... that."

"You are going to free me, right?"

Aziraphale shoots Crowley an offended look. "Of course, I am! I'm an angel of my word!"

"A-ha. And how do you intend on doing that when you didn't want to use a miracle to free yourself?" Crowley asks, kicking himself for not considering that at the beginning of all this.

"Oh! Well, you see, I nicked the key from that chap over there ..." Aziraphale pats down the pockets of Crowley's coat, then the pockets of his own, chirping a tiny, "A-ha!" when he finds it.

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"You didn't ask!"

"How did you get it off him without his noticing?"

"Nu-uh." Aziraphale sticks the key in the lock and gives it a twist. "A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Wait! That means you could have gotten yourself ... and me ... out of those chains this entire time!?" Crowley hisses, shaking out the throbbing in his wrists as the chains fall to the ground. But Aziraphale sidesteps Crowley's question and helps him to his feet.

"Come come now! Let's get moving!" With a snap of Aziraphale's fingers, Crowley is re-dressed in his original clothes while Aziraphale reluctantly switches outfits with the still frozen guard. "We mustn't hang about!"

When the guards return, there's only one prisoner in the cell.

The aristocrat on his knees and the revolutionary he was servicing are gone.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

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moveslikejaggeria · 2 years ago

Text

im very tired, tumblr dot com. im just very much exhausted. i think about how much i wanted to die just a few weeks ago and how happy i am now. but also,,, how i was right. happiness always comes in such fleeting moments. it sucks. the river is smaller, my dear friends, much easier to cross these days. but it doesnt mean its not still there.

i stopped seeing my therapist. and dietician. neither of them really reached out. fair enough. i think we were just dancing around the inevitable. i am therapist-proof: i repel them. its something about me that just pushes them away. its the me-ness.

i want a family so badly. all my friends are dating!! this sucks!! im so happy for them but wheres MY lover dearest. i hate dating apps though, im done with them. i gotta Know someone to date them and thats so hard over dating apps. alas

im so tired. not so much that its reached my bones, but its definitely deep in my muscles. i went and got a massage. it sucked and was expensive. now im sitting in the shower avoiding going to sleep bc as soon as i do tomorrow has to start. bleh

keep this to yourself porn bots but there was this person i really liked last year and god i was pretty infatuated but theyre not single so i had to get over it but sometimes i still have dreams with them in it and its kinda weird. like ik i cant control my dreams but it Feels manipulative to be in a situation where they are at my brains will. even i wont conform to that. plus then i wake up and the bed’s a little colder. alas

the loneliness is so deep in my bones i dont think itll ever leave, like a tumor they cant remove and you just kinda have to live with it and accept your fate. like a constant reminder that youre not normal or healthy and you never will or can be.

UGH i have TWO (2) meetings tomorrow. one of which is gonna SUCK bc i just have to sit there and be silent. i used to be really good at being silent. im twinning with mae from avatar lol.

i wish i lived in fiction. i wish i lived in a story that the author had all planned out and they had this nice little ending planned where everything was gonna finally be okay and id be happy. i think im trapped in a not-happy ending story. where the author tortures their characters relentlessly

how far away is labor day? i think labor day i’ll clean my apartment and finish moving in. maybe i’ll invite some friends over to keep me company, maybe not. maybe they will be busy or not want to. idk

not even a full week of school and im done. BLEH. i wish my therapist had put up more of a fight. or i had a better therapist. but then i wouldnt be talking to you, tumblr dot com! or maybe i still would. thats the question

there are two kind of depressed people: the ones who write happy endings for characters and imagine themselves AS the character to feel whole and those who torture their characters out of catharsis or to not feel so alone. so i suppose this is all karma for my fictional characters. do you think if i become the former life would be better?

OH tumblr dot com, i know you hate the tiky toky app, but they told me i was gonna find a partner this year! oh can you believe it! and if i listened to this one sound and manifested, i would be rich. oh tumblr dot com, can you imagine? someone to just hold and be held by? someone who you can lay your head against and listen to their heartbeat? someone you can trust with your whole you? oh tumblr dot com, how i do love to go on…

one last thing before i let you continue scrolling, mr porn bot. the happiest day of my life that i can remember is that one saturday last semester. i went to the arcade/golf course/gokart place place with my friends and we spent the day there and then we came home and i got to meet lewberger and see them perform and oh! the day before when i got my picture taken with stinger and got ice cream and knew random facts about greys anatomy and oh,,, to be young again. to live in those moments and just be happy. for that fleeting moment

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senacal · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Could you do a jealous! Erik Lensherr x Reader. Theyre both professors and all btw. Thanks!

Assumptions

Request: Requested by a lovely Anon 💕

Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x Gender Neutral Reader

Prompt: Hello! Could you do a jealous!Erik Lensherr x Reader. They’re both professors and all btw. Thanks!

Warnings: Misunderstandings, jealousy

Abbreviations: (Y/F/N)- your full name, (Y/N)- your name

Author’s Note: 😬 Sorry this took so long to get out, I had a little bit of writer’s block and of course my dear friend, no motivation. The reader is gender-neutral cause I wasn’t sure what was wanted.

As always, Requests Are Open!

(Not my Gif)

(Y/F/N) loved their job. They couldn’t explain what had convinced them to teach at Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters; perhaps it was Charles Xavier himself, or more likely, the student’s enthusiasm to learn from them. (Y/N) never expected to be a teacher, considering their high school and college experiences weren’t the most exciting or thrilling. They were almost convinced Teachers hated them, which is why it was ironic that they had become a teacher.

It was a year after (Y/N) had begun teaching that they had met Erik Lehnsherr. He was… different. Not in a bad way, but he was closed off. And he only ever talked to Charles, Raven, and occasionally Hank. For a month, (Y/N) thought he didn’t speak. There was nothing wrong with that either; a few of their students preferred to remain mute, and some students preferred to use Sign Language over speaking to communicate with (Y/N). So, if Erik was mute, it wasn’t an issue. (Y/N) wanted to get to know him better. Which was why they had attempted to be Erik’s friend.

Whenever Erik would enter a room, (Y/N) would casually make their way to him and make small talk. Most of the time they were met with silence. (Y/N) could have sworn Erik smiled the last time they talked to him, so they knew they were getting somewhere. Soon enough, Erik would start responding to them, small-short answers at first, but it was still something. (Y/N) even asked him if they were bugging him when the short answers continued. (He said no, but (Y/N) wasn’t so sure). Sometimes they wished they were an empath so they could get a read on Erik’s feelings, but alas, they were only able to heal an object’s physical wounds. But it was okay because they were a valued member of the team and Charles, Raven, and Hank loved them for them.

(Y/N) was almost worried Erik would never open up to them, but as soon as he joined the staff of Charles Xavier’s school, (Y/N) noticed Erik lingering near their classroom. It was almost as if he was seeking them out. (Y/N)’s heart fluttered in giddiness at the mere thought. Whenever they saw Erik in the halls, Erik would greet them with a hello and a kind smile. It was the best part of their day.

It got to the point where (Y/N) would expect to see Erik before they both went to their respective classes, (Y/N) to anatomy, and Erik to physics. This was why they found it disappointing that Erik was nowhere to be found. They wouldn’t have been too worried because even mutants got the flu and needed a vacation, but it was now the fourth day that (Y/N) hadn’t seen Erik and it was very concerning. Did something happen? Did Erik get hurt? Was he seriously ill? Did he leave again? Did he just not want to see (Y/N)? (Y/N) couldn’t stop their mind from jumping to conclusions. It even distracted them from their teaching, so they would often dismiss their class early. Why waste their’s and their student’s time if they couldn’t concentrate? In fact, with the constant short classes, (Y/N) shouldn’t have been surprised to see Charles stroll into their classroom.

“(Y/N), may I speak with you?” Charles asked once it was apparent that (Y/N) was too wrapped up in their thoughts to notice Charles.

“Hmm? Oh, sorry Charles, I’m just a bit distracted, what’s up?” They asked. (Y/N) sat at their desk hoping the steady position will get them to focus on Charles.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been letting the students out of class early the past few days, is anything the matter?” Charles asked.

“Oh, uh, no, I just, I’ve been distracted lately is all,” (Y/N)’s cheeks flushed in shame. They couldn’t let this issue affect their job any more than it already has.

“Distracted… by anything in particular?” He moved his wheelchair closer to (Y/N).

(Y/N) shifted so they could face Charles, “Is Erik okay?”

Charles raised his brows, “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“No reason, I just haven’t seen him is all, I was concerned,” (Y/N) shrugged. Maybe Erik really was avoiding them.

“He’s fine. I mean he was acting odd around me as well, but he said he was distracted. Seems to be a lot of that going on around here these days,” Charles nudged (Y/N)’s hand with a teasing smile.

(Y/N) huffed a small laugh, “I suppose I’m not the only one,” they drummed their fingers on their lap, “Don’t laugh, but I think Erik might be avoiding me and I’m kind of afraid that it might actually be true.”

“I won’t laugh at that, but Erik is a complex person. Sometimes he feels the need to isolate himself when he’s troubled, that could be why he’s been staying away,” Charles shrugged.

Charles had a point, Erik didn’t seem the type to confide in someone if something was troubling him.

Charles grabbed (Y/N)’s hand, “I hope everything works itself out, can’t have my best teacher struggling.”

(Y/N) smiled gratefully at Charles’s blatant concern. He was their best friend and they knew he was merely concerned for them. Before they could respond with reassurance, however, Erik stepped into the classroom.

“Oh, sorry, I- sorry,” Erik ran his hand through his hair, “Can I ask,” He pointed from Charles to (Y/N) “are you… do you two- Anything happening here?”

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed at the question, “anything like what?”

Charles snorted with laughter next to them. He waved his hand as if to apologize but the laughter bubbling from his lips made it hard to believe. “What?” (Y/N) frowned.

Charles dropped (Y/N)’s hand and huffed softly, “Nothing, darling. Erik, a word if you please?” Charles maneuvered his wheelchair outside of (Y/N)’s classroom.

(Y/N) watched as Erik walked out after Charles with a look of confusion. Was there something they weren’t getting?

_____________________________________________________________

Erik has had a rough couple of days. Before, Erik would usually brush off any inconvenience and continue with his day. But ever since he met (Y/N) it’s been a little more difficult to ignore the problem at hand. And that problem came in the form of one Charles Xavier. Erik knew someone as wonderful as (Y/N) had to be taken, but taken by Charles? Not that Charles wasn’t a good person, he was the best person Erik knew, he just really hated that of all people, (Y/N) was dating Charles; his best friend.

When Erik first met (Y/N) he knew there was something special about them, and not just because of their power. No, (Y/N) was the most caring, funny, and charming person he has ever had the pleasure of meeting. They always made sure to include Erik when he first arrived, and they made sure that he wasn’t feeling neglected. These small acts of kindness were enough to make Erik fall for them. But again, (Y/N) was with Charles.

At first, Erik thought he could ignore his feelings and simply brush them aside. But that was easier said than done. (Y/N) was always on his mind. Whenever he was in class, in the danger room, driving. There was no escaping (Y/N). So, Erik accepted his fate and became their friend; Only now he’d see Charles around more often, and he’d feel guilty for even fantasizing about (Y/N). Erik was living in hell.

The other day, Erik had the intention of telling Charles how he felt about (Y/N). When he walked into the living room, both (Y/N) and Charles were sat by the fireplace, talking and laughing. He realized he couldn’t get in the way of their relationship. He couldn’t leave again though, it didn’t sit well with him. Instead, Erik chose to avoid both Charles and (Y/N). Whenever he would see (Y/N), he’d turn the other way and pretend like they weren’t there. He altered his route so he wouldn’t run the risk of running into them. When he saw Charles, Erik would find a way out of the conversation and avoid him as well.

This had been going on for a week now. But even avoiding (Y/N) was like torture; he missed them. He wanted to see them smile when he said hello; he wanted to see them laugh when he told a joke. He missed them. So he went to find them. But when he did, they were with Charles. He didn’t know why he felt so disappointed. He had foolishly hoped to get some alone time with (Y/N).

It got to the point where Erik had finally asked if (Y/N) and Charles were in fact in a relationship; It sure seemed like it. He shifted nervously in place, avoiding Charles’s eyes. He wished he was using his helmet right now.

“Erik, tell me, do you like (Y/N)?” Charles asked casually.

“What would make you think that?” He mumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know, perhaps it’s the disappearing act you seem to pull whenever we’re together or the fact that you haven’t spoken to me or them in days?” Charles raised his brows accusingly. He obviously wasn’t as in the dark as Erik had hoped.

“Maybe I just don’t like talking to you?” Erik shrugged.

Charles rolled his eyes, “Please if that were true I’d have known long ago.”

Erik ran his hand through his hair, “What if I did? There’s no chance for me, I know that. And I would never do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

Charles smiled, “Well, I’m glad to hear that, but there is something you should know. (Y/N) and I aren’t together.”

Erik frowned, “Did you two break up?”

Charles chuckled, “No, you git, we were never together. We’re just friends. I promise. And if it helps, I’m pretty sure they like you too.”

“Really?” Erik grinned. It seemed he could only string together unintelligent answers now that he knew (Y/N) was single.

“Would I lie to you?” At Erik’s look, Charles rolled his eyes, “When it counts?”

“No, I suppose not,” Erik cleared his throat and finally met Charles’s eyes, “Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I should talk to,” He pointed to (Y/N)’s classroom door behind him with his thumb.

“Definitely. I’d wish you luck, but I am positive this will go well for you both,” Charles winked and left Erik to talk to (Y/N).

Erik took a deep breath and re-entered the classroom.

(Y/N) looked up from fiddling with their fingers when he walked in. They smiled when they saw it was him. It was a pleasant surprise. They had expected Charles to come in. “Erik, it’s been a minute.”

Erik shrugged, “Yeah, I wanted to apologize for that. I uh, may I sit?” He motioned to the seat near their desk.

(Y/N) nodded seeming eager.

Erik pulled the chair closer to (Y/N) and took a seat. “First off, I wanted to apologize for my behavior. I shouldn’t have been avoiding you.”

“So you were avoiding me?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yes, but not because I don’t like you,” Erik rushed when he noticed the disappointed look on their face, “I like you a lot actually. That’s why I’ve been avoiding you.”

“That makes absolutely no sense.” (Y/N) crossed their arms over their chest, “You don’t avoid people you claim to like.”

“That’s a good point, but in my defense, I thought you were dating my best friend.” He drummed his fingers on his thighs, “I know it seems stupid now. I feel stupid, but it only seemed logical at the time.”

(Y/N) smiled and shifted closer to Erik so their knees were touching, “You were jealous of Charles?”

“I know, I know. I’m an idiot, but you had to see how close you two are,” Erik defended.

(Y/N) laughed but nodded in agreement, “Okay, I forgive you.” They took Erik’s fidgeting hands into their own, “And if it helps, I like you too.”

Erik beamed, “It does.”

“Good,” (Y/N) let go of one hand and laced their fingers together with the hand they still held, “Now, ask me on a date so we can stop being idiots.”

Erik laughed happily, “very well. (Y/N), would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Erik, this is so sudden,” (Y/N) teased.

Erik rolled his eyes fondly, “Yeah, only took me a couple of months to get the courage to ask you out.”

(Y/N) bit their lip, “I’d love to go out Erik.” They leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Erik’s cheek.

“It’s about damn time,” Charles’s voice echoed in both mutant’s minds.

#erik lehnsherr #magneto #x-men #erik lehnsherr x reader #magneto x reader #x-men x reader #reader is gender neutral #jealousy #misunderstandings #xmen #xmen x reader

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