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limarkova · 2 days ago

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Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader x Yandere Al Ghuls

Pt 9

Author's note: Hey guys! I promise I have not disappeared my school semester is just kicking up and I'm focusing on that. Anyway I started up a Ko-Fi so you want to you can leave a tip. Link is my bio. As always thank you for reading my work and all the engagement. Writing this has been oddly therapeutic so I'm glad that someone is enjoying it.

The Library was once again quiet as you walked in. One of the librarian nodded to you as you strolled by. Quietly opening your bag, you returned some of the books you got the other day. A part of you still felt buzzy and hollow. The strange tickling feel lingered in your chest like a bad habit. A part of you felt like that feeling was going be there forever and you hated that. You were saved from it when you caught sight of your investigation notebook inside your bag the feeling changed.

The tingling shifted into a burning rage that smoldered in the pit of your being. Filling the hollow space inside of you with venomous smoke. It killed the small pieces of hope that said your 'family' was telling the truth, that they didn't know. The smoke took the hollowness away. You loved the rage for that, embracing it like life-line.

Turning to the study areas in the back you moved to the one you used yesterday. Talia wasn't there yet. In the isolated part of the library, you began to update your journal.

First you scraped your orginial list. Things were changing, you couldn't punish the whole family. No it wouldn't be fair to those who were involved. Plus you knew you needed to hone your intentions from experience. Even though you could have gone after all the scientists and guards during your escape, you focused on the exit instead to ensure you got out. It had more you more efficient. That's what you needed here.

Obviously there was Bruce simply because he had to have approved the whole thing. You wrote Bruce Wayne at the top left of the page. Under his name you wrote the evidence you did have, the financial records. You thought back on the past days than wrote down, "Past injuries to Robins/Allies=Motive?"

On the right side of the paper you wrote Richard Grayson. Under his name you wrote attempted to get information, admitted to knowing boarding school was a lie, was one of four to know 'real' boarding school location. Thinking a bit you decided to add "potential motive= over protective of allies/ Jason's death?"

Halfway down the page under Bruce's name you wrote Alfred Pennyworth. Beneath it you wrote pretty much the same thing as Dick; knew about the boarding school and was one of four to know real location. Afterwards you wrote "painfully loyal to Bruce. Would have information on what happened? Motive=Unclear."

On right side of the page and on the same lines as Alfred you wrote, Cassandra Cain/Wayne. Under her name you wrote "Choose the 'boarding school'. May have read investigation journal. Spied on me two years before kidnapping." For motive you simple drew a question mark. You honestly had no clue why she would have chosen to help Bruce with the experiments.

You considered adding Barbara but stopped yourself. Yes this morning had been a lot but the signs on her were mixed. If she was acting the part much like Dick was than she was just as dangerous to interact with. Yet if she wasn't and genuinely wanted to help than maybe she would be a good source of information. She might be a good source either way. You'd leave her off the list for now.

Turning the page you had just barely written out Edward Davis and Clint Owen when someone cleared their throat. Closing the notebook, you saw Talia standing at the entrance of the study area. Giving her your best easy going smile you greeted her, "Hello Ms.Talia"

"Hello dear. How are you doing today?" She set her bag down on the table. It let out a soft thud when she set it down. You guess she had learning tools in it. That or books, it was a library after all.

You nodded to her and began to pull out different notebook. Tucking your investigation notes away for bow. She watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. Her mouth quirked to the side and she tilted her head towards your bag. A nervous laugh left your mouth, "Yeah, I'm doing okay. Sorry this one's my diary, don't think I should mix personal problems with Arabic notes."

"Oh, I'm glad you journal. It's good for development." She gave you that mother's smile she had. Something in you preened at the look but it was under cut by your own sarcastic thoughts. 'Would she be proud if she knew what it was really for?'

She gestured behind her to someone hidden just out of sight from the little alcove. "I have someone I want you to meet."

A man stepped into view. He was slightly taller than Jason but not by much. His hair appeared to be well groomed, almost like it was permanently styled. Parts of his hair were white, not in the salt and pepper white of aging but in a way that felt intentional. His features were stoic and calm. Something about him reminded you of half your family. Maybe it was sure footing or the steady stance but you knew he was trained to fight.

Yet that wasn't what stopped your brain. He was familiar. Not in the I've seen him on the street before way but in a deeper, I've known you in the past way. It felt like something in you cracked it's eyes open. That hidden part of you whispered to watch, to learn, to leave. Need this new thing in you be quiet you spoke quickly, "I'm sorry but have we met before?"

Talia blinked looking at the man. He also gave a slight look of surprise that disappeared quickly. Whatever their reactions were it was enough to get that part of you to quiet down. Tension left your body as you watched how the man would respond. There was an edge to his smile that told you he was impressed, "I don't believe we have. My name is Ra's Al Ghul, I am Talia's father."

"I'm (Fake Name). Are you one of the material art teachers Ms.Talia mentioned?" You held your hand out to him. If he was slightly impressed before he was completely impressed now.

Shaking your hand he asked, "How could you tell?"

You thought for a minute before answering, "The way you stand. Everyone I know who has had extensive training of some kind stands a certain way. Almost like they can't help but do it automatically."

That seemed to be the right answer. Both him and Talia shared a look. Ra's gave a subtle nod that made Talia's smirk grow the smallest but. She lifted an eyebrow as if to say 'watch' before clapping her hands once.

"Well than, after your lessons today my father will show you some of the basics." Talia offered, pulling things out of her bag. You looked at the items intrigued, it seemed to be learning aid for a different alphabet. An eager smile crossed your lips as you readied your notebook.

Jason leaned against his motorcycle holding a kid sized helmet. A cigarette hung out of his lips as he waited, watching the library doors like a hawk. Roy was nearby on his own bike. Neither one of them spoke.

Finally (Name) came out from the library. She was clutching her backpack looking around the space. When her eyes caught on him, she got a confused look. Jason put out his cigarette, gesturing for her to come over. "Hey kiddo."

"What are you doing here?" She walked up to him. Her body was angled away from him. A habit she seemed to have picked up with everyone.

Jason shrugged, "Tim told me to pick you up. Didn't he text you or something?"

Her face slackened before she bluntly stated, "I don't have a phone."

"Shit, did that get stolen too?" Jason rolled his eyes. Of course her kidnappers would take her phone, that was kidnapping 101. Maybe they could track it down to try find some evidence.

She gave he an absurd look, "No. I've never had a phone."

"The fuck..." Jason rubbed his eyes. Bruce was going to send you to a foreign country without a phone. No fucking wondered she got kidnapped. He tossed her the helmet, "Okay, we're fixing that. Put the helmet on let's go."

"And where are we going to?" She caught the helmet but didn’t put it on. In fact she gave it a strange look before turning her gaze back to him. Her look told him she didn't trust him. That wasn't good, he needed her to trust him.

Before he could answer, Roy spoke up. Jason couldn't tell he wanted to punch Roy or thank him for what left his mouth, "We're gonna go get lunch than see if we can max out your Dad's credit card."

"Sorry what?"

"Yeah, take you phone shopping than grab whatever else you need. Or want honestly." Roy snubbed out his own cigarette before lazily stretching. (Name) looked at the helmet for second before looking back to Jason and Roy. Jason could see consideration in her eyes.

"Can I get one those fake nose piercing things with the magnet to give Bruce a heart attack?" She gave them a sweet guilty smile and batted her eyelashes. Jason snorted, trying not laugh. Roy didn't care and double over laughing.

Of course her first thought was how to piss off Bruce with this. There was a surge pride in his chest. She gave him a hald assed shrug. Jason gave in to the laughter, "Fuck. You are my sister!"

"Hell yeah, let's go!" Roy pulled himself together enough to get on his bike. Jason gestured for her to put on the helmet and hop on. He secured her in the seat behind where he would sit before hopping on himself. After giving her a quick safety brief, they were flying down the highway.

The rest of the Outlaws were waiting for them at a Burrito Buck down by Jason's apartment. He lived relatively close to Crime Alley so if her goal was give Bruce a heart attack he was helping already. Everyone was passing around greasy Mexican food when him, Roy and (Name) pulled in. Jason could feel his phone going crazy in his jacket pocket. Handing his sister over to Roy he pulled out his phone to see what was going on.

4 missed calls from B

7 missed calls from Dick🖕

2 missed calls from Cyber Stalker

8 missed calls from Human Flashlight

3 missed calls from Murder Germlin

4 missed calls from Purple Chick

1 text unread message from Tim.

Jason sighed running his hands through his hair. What the fuck could have happened for them to be calling this much. Just when he was about to call one of them back he saw the preview of Tim's text. "She doesn't want to see Bruce" the rest of the message was faded out. Jason went to click the notification when his phone started ringing again.

"Great..." Jason rolled his eyes. His phone blaring a custom ringtone warning that his brother was calling. Pressing answer he launched right into it, "What do you want, Dick?"

"Where are you? You were supposed to be back by now? Is (Name) with you?" Dick panicked voice came out of the phone. Jason almost rolled his eyes again. This is what got them all panicking. Did they seriously not trust him with her?

"Yeah, (Name) with me. She said she was hungry so we stopped to get food." Jason shrugged moving towards the restaurant's window. He could see Roy leading his sister to the table. Kori immediately got up to hug her but was pulled back by Artemis.

"Dude, we were going to take her to get lunch before doing a family day." Dick half whined in his ear.

Jason paused. He racked his memory for when someone mentioned a family day but couldn’t come up with anything really. "Hold up. When did you guys decide to do a family day?"

"This morning at breakfast. Steph pointed out that (Name) and Duke have never been apart of a family day. So we decided to have one." Dick said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Jason popped his jaw to relieve the tension that shot through his body. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't the one picking her up he wouldn't have been invited. Rolling his neck he sarcastically drawled out, "Okay. So when were you going invite me?"

There was a heavy pause. Dick said the words like he handling a bomb, "when you got here with (Name)?"

"Alright." Jason smirked to himself. If they wanted (Name) they have to find her. He knew his phone location was scrambled, a habit he picked up somewhere. "We're at the Red Lobster in the Heights. Haven't placed our order yet so if you wanna join in be my guest."

"The Heights? Dude what are you doing over there?" Dick asked. Jason didn't have to hide his mischievous smirk. The family would lose their shit on him for this but he didn't care.

"Didn't the one by the manor close down. Beside this one has the best cheddar biscuits."

"Just stay there we'll be there in 10 minutes." Dick said before hanging up. Jason nodded his head and clicked his tongue. He was going to have so much fun today. Turning his phone off, he went inside the Burrito Bucket.

His sister was sitting next to Roy listen to him tell a story. She had a taco in hand nodding along to what he was saying, sour cream stuck in the corner of her mouth. She giggled as Roy finished his story, "Yeah so after leaving me in a Denny's Bathroom for 30 minutes without pants, the dude had the audacity to sit there showing me photos."

"What story did you just tell her?" Jason squeezed into the booth with the rest of the Outlaws. One look around the table told he really didn't want to know. Everyone at the table had a shit eating grin. His sister let out a devious little giggle. He started to hope it wasn't an inappropriate one.

"You left him in a Denny's without pants to go and watch my 2nd grade science competition?" She sounded half shocked and half amused.

Jason groaned face palming. Oh course it was that story. Roy would never let him live it down, "Please tell me you didn't tell her why you were pantless in a Denny's Bathroom."

The Outlaws started to laugh. It was Artemis that responded to (Name)'s question, "He's done shit like that to all of us. He had Bizarro fly him back to Gotham leaving me somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest for a Christmas recital."

Bizarro nodded with a huge smile, "He did not."

"Yeah, and than he'll sit there showing us pictures of the event he ditched us for." Roy laughed before taking a bite of his burrito. Jason was hiding his face behind his hand. Sometimes he forgot that the Outlaws loved to embarrass him.

(Name) turned to him. Her expression was a mix of confused and happy. His heart dropped at she said, "I thought you didn't show up to any of those cause you hated me."

Jason blinked looking at her. He had shown up but stayed hidden from her. He was dangerous to be around, he knew that much. Yet he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be there. He sighed pulling her into a side hug. She tensed but let him, "B depends on the day of the week honestly, but you never."

She looked up at him with bright eyes, the small amount of sour cream still stuck to the corner of her mouth. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away.

Maybe it was parental instinct, that made Roy keep an eye on the girl. She was close in age to Lian. Whatever it was he was glad he did. (Name) showed startling signs of PTSD. From the hypervigilance to disassociation to increase anxiety, shame, sadness and aggression. It was made worse knowing the family she was in. The Wayne's would support her but it was unlikely she'd get the professional help she desperately needed.

They had gone to a mall with a phone store to get her set up. Kori and Jason's Sister were up ahead of them talking. Suddenly there was a squeal of excitement from the little one and she bolted ahead. Kori shrugged, "She saw something she likes."

With that Kori ran ahead to keep an eye on her. Roy stopped Jason before he jog to catch up to the girls. The vigilante seemed confused when Roy stopped him. Taking a deep breath Roy began, "You need to get your sister help."

"What?" Jason gave Roy a weird look. The two look at each for a moment. Roy took a deep breath, not a great way to start this conversation. Still he pushed forward.

"You and your family have a bad habit of just toughing through your mental health issues." Roy placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. He continued on, "Yes, you all support each other but when it comes to the more serious stuff all of you tend to just destroy yourselves. She doesn't deserve that. If you get her actual therapy and help than she has a chance of being normal. Or at least not implode on herself."

"Dude she'll be fine. I'm gonna keep her safe from now on." Jason shoved Roy away from him. Roy watched as Jason walked towards her with a sinking feeling. This didn't feel right. If (Name) didn't get the help she deserved, he could only imagine the path she'd end up going down.

They found her and Kori at the pound's adoption in the mall set up. The two girls were currently playing with a small cat. The paper displayed said the kitten was a russet dark ginger cat named Churro. (Name) looked up at them with wide begging eyes, "Can we keep him?"

"B told Damian no more animals." Jason sighed shaking his head. The little girl's face dropped slight before morphing into a pleading smile. Roy looked over to Jason who had a contemplating look.

"He told Damian no more animals. He has literally never said anything to me." She spoke in an pleading tone, pulling Churro closer to her. It was adorable to watch but the last sentence caught Roy's attention. He couldn't explain what it was about it, the tone or the wording. That hurt seemed to be coming back with a slight rage.

"I don't know. I don't think it's safe to drive with a cat and a kid on the back of a motorcycle." Jason scratched his head. She looked down at Churro in despair. The kitten mewled before nuzzling into her arms. She gave it a little kiss to the forehead, giggling when the cat began to paw at her hair.

"I can watch her well you go get the car from your apartment." Roy offered to Jason. He could tell she was emotional attached to the kitten. Maybe it would help her when her world felt like too much. Similar to how he use to hold Lian when his world was too much.

Jason sighed before rolling his eyes. "Okay fine let me fill out the paperwork real quick."

Once Jason was gone to get the car, Roy sat next to the girl. She was petting Churro who was curled up in her lap. Kori was currently talking with the adoption lady about the different cats. Roy nudged her once, "Hey kiddo. Can I see your phone?"

She stopped petting Churro to consider him cautiously. Roy gave her a reassuring smile feeling his chest tighten. Finally she handed him her phone. He put his secondary number Jason didn't know about in her contacts as 'Uncle Will.' He than add his main number to her contacts under his real name.

"There. Now you can call me anytime you need something from this number." He pointed at his contact with his thumb showing her the screen. He than showed her the Uncle Will contact, "This one you can call if you are ever in a situation where you need a pick up no questions ask. All you have to do is press Call and say hey Uncle Will I got your message. The only thing I'll is where are you and are you safe, okay?"

"Why are you giving me this?" She took her phone back looking at the new contacts. Due to it being a new phone those contacts and Jason's were the only ones there. She had insisted on not getting any of her other family members numbers.

"I've made a lot of mistakes around your age." Roy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Saying it felt like a understatement, he had taken part in massive fuck ups. Looking at (Name) reminded him that angry kid though, "I like to imagine if I had someone I though would pick me up no questions asked, I wouldn't have made at least a quarter of them. So if I can get you out of at least one dangerous situation, I'll consider it a win."

"Okay, but why give this to me?" She gestured towards herself with the phone.

Roy thought for a minute. He wasn't certain what was making him reach out to her. Maybe it was guilt for his past mistake or the little kid he use to be reflecting in the girl. Whatever it was may this necessary. So he decided to give her what he had wanted, "Because something tells you just want someone in your corner that cares regardless of what happens."

She blinked her face turning into a sad form of shock. Looking at the phone, she smiled. Roy considered reaching out to hug her. Yet before he could her face fell into a resigned melancholia. "Thanks, I guess."

"Come on, I have a great idea for giving Bruce a heart attack." He stood from the bench gesturing to a beauty store nearby, "I think that store has a hair dye called Arsenal Red."

That got her to smile. Roy sighed to himself slightly, hoping everything would turn out okay.

Taglist:

@stove-top96 @00hellohello00 @mysticalhills @yhin-gg @twismare @charlenexoxo1 @a-lurking-fae @moondust-clouds @darkumbreon92 @jsprien213 @bellethesleepypotato @time-shardz @randomlyappearingartist @kittzu @bat1212 @vanilliona

@welpthisisboring @plsfckmedxddy @tulnukaz @eyeless-kun @daisy56789 @dandelion-delusion @damianwayneisthebestrobin

@crazycaoticsimp @sirenetheblogger @1nternetc4t @lilithskywalker @jamespotterfan @fandomly-obsessed @itsberrydreemurstuff @bad4amficideas @wpdarlingpan @type-ink @wrenbirde @shadowytravelerlover @lunayaps @magdelenacarmila @tsxukikami

The taglist is temporary closed! Thank you guys for reading.

#yandere batfam x neglected reader #villian reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere duke thomas #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown #yandere ra's al ghul #yandere talia al ghul #no beta we die like jason todd #no beta we die like men

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lsunstreakerl · 2 days ago

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i feel so honoured to have inspired this ficlet situation 😂 literally any dad!gp or dad!christian stuff you have in mind, young max or present day or whatever i am not picky 🫶🏻🫶🏻

you spoke what I'm sure several people were thinking lol. here's some famiglia dad!gp, 700 words.

"So he's... um."

Christian flounders, sitting across from Gianpiero at his desk, trying to find words.

"Um. A member of the nonspeaking community?"

Gianpiero can't hide his snort, palming his forehead.

"He's mute, yes."

Christian looks relieved, shoulders sagging.

"I can say mute? Thank god- these HR memos are getting out of hand."

Gianpiero rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair. Christian is clearly trying, intrigued by the idea of having a teenager around the garage.

"He's a bit shy, fair warning. Until he gets comfortable, anyways- I get all sorts of sassy notes now."

Christian nods.

"Teenagers. You said he's not- it's just you and him, right? He's not biologically yours?"

Gianpiero drums his fingers against his thigh, trying to decide if he needs to be defensive or not.

"He's-"

He pauses, thinking of a few years back. Max had been so small, and Gianpiero had been so awkward- neither of them knew what they were doing.

He's had to learn to cook, because while it's perfectly acceptable for a single man in his thirties to eat ham sandwiches whenever he was home, it's frowned upon to put a child through it as well.

So he's bought a few cookbooks, their house has more spices than he knew existed, and he's been learning how to make a fulfilling plate while being judged by a mute teenager.

Sometimes Max helps, standing quietly by his side and carefully chopping vegetables. Or he'll turn down a burner when Gianpiero has forgotten to keep an eye on it, saving them both from the smoke alarm- it makes a truly terrible screeching noise.

He'll wait until Gianpiero is absorbed in work on his laptop before slinking into the living room, settling a few feet away on the couch and opening a book.

If Gianpiero waits patiently, he'll move a few inches at a time, stealthily creeping closer until his head droops sleepily onto his shoulder.

He hadn't understood it before- the way parents talked about how it felt when their children fell asleep on them.

He gets it now.

The first time it had happened he'd frozen, afraid to even breathe for fear of waking Max back up.

Now he's more used to it. It's part of their routine- Gianpiero pretends he doesn't notice Max creeping closer, Max pretends Gianpiero lifting his arm up to rest on the back of the couch is convenient, instead of calculated.

Max hasn't brought up anything about how Gianpiero carries him back up to his room each night, and Gianpiero's more muscular now than he was before, but-

He gets it now.

He'd lift a car for this kid, fight soldiers, get in trouble with the law- anything.

Max has brought a spark into his life he didn't even know he was missing- witty and insightful, deeply judgmental and surprisingly sweet, all without speaking a word.

He's made Gianpiero reevaluate how he looks at the world. People have asked him before if he's lonely, just him and Max- no partner or mother in the picture.

Gianpiero couldn't imagine anything else.

Sure, the house is a bit of motorsport enthusiasts bachelor pad, but it's perfect for them- workbooks and data packets scattered across the counters, mismatched shoes by the doorway.

So what if sometimes they have miniature competitions, trying to see who can flick the straw wrapper into the kitchen trash bin from across the living room.

Max's favorite movie being The Hangover is probably a bit immature, but it makes him so happy Gianpiero can't bear to shut it off- even if they've seen it a million times and he rolls his eyes every time.

Gianpiero would act out the stupid movie himself if it meant Max got to be that happy all the time. He knows Max has been through a lot- sees it every time Max flinches, or startles awake on the couch, pressing further into Gianpiero's side.

He wishes he could take that pain away. Wishes he could go back and time and change it, give Max a better life- even if it would mean removing him from Gianpiero's.

He's learning that this is what it means to be a parent.

Gianpiero smiles back at Christian.

"He's my son."

#famiglia familie #ficlet #dad!gp #prompt fill

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covenofagatha · 3 days ago

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hello hello! it's been a full day or two since i popped by (i had to study. devastating, truly) and I've been SAVING your fics and making a point to not spoil myself before i read them.

anyway, i just finished them all in one go and.... wow. yes, i understand the influx of asks demanding happy endings because how dare your writing have me in a unrelenting grip of horniness and despair? horrible. it should only be the former /nm

stepmom fic was always one of my favourites and i was ecstatic that it was brought back to life with your incredible talent again ☺️

of course, no ask of mine is complete without a tiny worm. let me know what you think of this miss covenofagatha:

desperate agatha this desperate reader that.... what about desperate rio vidal?

(ft. mommy! agatha, babygirl! reader, g! p rio, choking like once, tiny tiny worm)

inspired by the chronicles of FFF and NNN with you and agatha, it's only right you give rio a shot (or not, ha) at it. after she's gone for particularly long without telling you both (again), the two of you decide it's time for her to get punished in her least favourite way: edging.

she doesn't take you seriously when you tell her, not believing her sweet little girl would be serious, but when agatha backs you up it dawns on her how screwed she is. one of you is... well. one thing. but when you two join forces? it's torture.

in the first week, it's surprisingly worse than she thought it would be. being gone for so long meant rio was already worked up, and she'd been looking forward to being all over you the moment she'd gotten home, but apparently not. for a few days, you and agatha work separately. agatha mumbles a few dirty words in her ear, about how she "must be so pent up, huh, my love?" while you tease her with a few easy flashes of skin here and there. it's astonishingly easy to get her riled up, and more than once rio has to excuse herself because she can't stop imagining the two of you touching her. despite this, she persists, snarking about "can't even do anything about me, huh?" all while having to rush off so she doesn't get hard.

the second week, she settles a little. at the same time, you and agatha team up to tease her. agatha's arms wrapped around rio as she pulls her possessively, you gently pressing kisses along her abdomen. she squirms, but because it's so soft and domestic she feels awfully bad about destroying it with how hard her bulge is straining against her boxers.

the third week is when it all goes downhill. rather than touching her, it's all about you and agatha -- fucking each other. in front of her. she feels like a voyeur, even though you two invite her to join you, but mock her regardless. it, humiliatingly, turns her on. the fact that the two of you fuck like bunnies (sorry señor scratchy) while she's in the bed, hearing you blatantly call her name while agatha coos that you're "mommy's good little girl" and that you're "so obedient, moaning rio's name like i told you to," as your mommy plunges two fingers into you.

rio holds out for a grand total of two (2) more days, each one filled with her having to camp out in the basement to avoid hearing your wet, desperate sounds of skin upon skin. what makes her break, however, isn't even contact with her cock. it's a combination of agatha and you taking one boob each in your mouths, licking and nipping gently, and agatha's hand reaching out to grasp her neck while you dig your fingernails into her back, and she keens loudly before exploding all over the sheets.

you pull back, stunned, while agatha scoffs in amusement. "i knew i'd last longer than you," she declares smugly, and rio growls once before she pounces.

short one this time! I've been thinking about bratty rio too but not sure what you think of that.... hmmm.......

unfortunately my workload from both my actual job AND my classes are steadily rising so i don't have the chance to type out my brainworms as much.. but please have heart and know i will always check this blog religiously, haha. all the best dear 💜

-lots of love, worm anon

Omg hey I missed you (but completely understand work and studying ugh gross)! I think we should just all settle in for a lot of horniness and despair which is such a good mix

I am absolutely obsessed with this brainworm oh my god thank you so much for sharing and I would actually be so down to write about this because fuck this is hot

#asks #brainworm #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #rio vidal x reader #agatha x rio #rio x you #rio x reader

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gf2bellamy · 10 hours ago

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Hi hi hi!

I just want to say that I love your writing so much. The way you write Spencer is just so cozy and feels like a warm hug, if you get what I'm saying?

Anyways I'm wondering if you could write Spencer reacting to his non-bau/fbi girlfriend sending him handwritten love letters to his cubicle at work? With something extra like a bouquet of flowers or little care packages? And Derek being all 'the two of you are completely whipped' but is so happy for the both of you.

I just love it when boys are the ones being dotted on because yes - boys love getting flowers too and they should because they deserve them!

presents — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: thank you so much that's so so so sweet <33 that means alot to me !!! <3 i hope you like this ( i'm craving cookies now )

The BAU bullpen was unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon. The team was scattered—some at their desks, others in the briefing room—but Spencer Reid was buried in a mountain of paperwork.

His desk was a chaotic mess of case files, books, and scribbled notes, his mind fully engrossed in the task at hand. He barely noticed the soft hum of conversation around him or the occasional footsteps echoing through the room.

Derek Morgan leaned against his own desk, sipping coffee and glancing over at Spencer with an amused smirk. “You know, Pretty Boy, if you keep staring at those files like that, they might just combust,” he teased, breaking the silence.

Spencer didn’t look up, his pen still scratching across the page. “That’s highly unlikely,” he replied absently. Derek chuckled, shaking his head.

Just then, Anderson walked into the bullpen, holding a small bundle of items. He made a beeline for Spencer’s desk, his expression neutral but he still looked slightly curious.

Without a word, he dropped the items onto the corner of Spencer’s desk, right next to a stacked pile of books.

“This is for you,” Anderson said simply before turning on his heel and walking away, leaving Spencer blinking in confusion.

Spencer finally looked up, his brows furrowing as he took in the items now sitting in front of him. There was a small, neatly folded letter sealed with a sticker, a single flower tied with a delicate ribbon, and a tiny care package wrapped in brown paper.

His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the handwriting on the envelope.

Derek pushed off his desk and sauntered over, his smirk widening. “What’s this? Secret admirer, Reid?” he asked, his tone playful.

Spencer ignored him for a moment as he picked up the letter. He carefully peeled back the sticker and unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the words written.

The letter was filled with warmth and affection, each word carefully chosen to make him smile. You had written about how proud you were of him, how much you had missed him during his long hours at work, and how you couldn’t wait to see him again. At the end, you'd included a little doodle of the two of you holding hands, complete with a heart around it.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed as he read, a soft smile tugging at his lips. He set the letter down gently and reached for the care package, unwrapping it to reveal a small box of his favorite tea, a bag of homemade cookies, and a tiny note that read, “For when you need a break.”

His heart swelled with gratitude and affection. You always knew exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t.

Derek, who had been watching the entire scene unfold, let out a low whistle. “Man, you’ve got it bad,” he said, shaking his head but grinning. “The two of you are completely whipped, you know that?”

Spencer looked up, his smile widening despite himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, though his tone betrayed him. He couldn’t help the way his chest warmed at the thought of you, the way your gestures always made him feel seen and appreciated in a way no one else ever had.

Derek clapped him on the shoulder, his grin softening into something more genuine. “I’m happy for you, man. She’s good for you. And hey, if she ever wants to send some of those cookies my way, I wouldn’t say no.”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, though he had no intention of sharing. These were his cookies, a gift from you, and he planned to savor every last one.

As Derek walked back to his desk, still teasing him, Spencer carefully arranged the items on his desk. He placed the rose in a small vase he kept in his drawer (a gift from you, of course), set the tea and cookies within easy reach, and tucked the letter into his bag to read again later.

For the rest of the day, every time he glanced at them, he felt a little lighter.

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fic

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dragonsoulage · 2 days ago

Text

He missed his girls…

feat. Baji Keisuke

Since you and Baji were young adults and just had a small infant, he missed his girlfriends gorgeous tits so much. And they were all so sensitive

Hello guys, I had this in my drafts for months and idk I decided to upload it. I just hope it’s fine 💀🤣 but damn Baji is just so 🤌🏻🤌🏻✨✨ I can’t help myself he has long hair ok 👁️👄👁️ I see long silky hair and I like 💀🤣 so have fun with this little thing here ✨🤌🏻

Wordcount: 1,3k

Warnings: kinda smūt, boobie worship, nipple play

You were tired and well you looked like a mess, at least this was what you were thinking. You and Baji, it was complicated. Likewise, you two were really young adults, but fate stepped in between and made you a mom. It was Bajis son you took care of the whole long day, of course he tried to provide for you. He loved you, even when everything was a little harder.

He worked long hours and shifts just so it was enough. While you still cared for the sweet infant you just gave birth about 4 months ago. And he could tell today weren't your day when he came home. You looked tired yes but not less beautiful. You wore a top that was pretty loose around your shoulders, always the straps sliding down.

And right now you had put your son to sleep. Standing in the kitchen, kinda complaining about something while you stirred some Yakisoba noodles in a pan. "You know, and she just rang the bell...for her damn package, although I literally said to her that Yuki is sleeping at that time... can't believe that." you groaned in frustration, because some neighbor you didn't like came to you.

"Oh yeah, really rude of them to not know when Yuki sleeps." Baji chuckled, standing in the door frame, leaning against it while watching you. Even when you were an overstimulated mess, you were just so pretty. No matter how tired he was, he would listen, when he simply could look at you like that. You then turned around, threw something in the trash.

When He noticed you weren't wearing any bra. Your creamy skin peaking out from your cleavage. This sight when you moved around, tits swaying slightly. And shit, he was gone.

No matter what you said, it was over the second he could see nipples poking through the material. Your strap from the top already halfway down your shoulder.

When he would just pull a little on the top, he would have seen a glimpse of your bare tit. "Yeah, very funny, he woke up...and little mister didn't want to sleep for like...the next 5 hours." you continued your little vent, before you tried to get back fast to the pa. Jumped a little, so nothing would burn. And when you jumped...Baji tried to pay attention, but you were simply too...distracting. "Oh, before I forgot you..." you tried to tell him something, but Bajis golden eyes locked with your chest. The way your soft mounds moved under your thin top.

He looked at them, already imagine how they would feel in his hands. How sensitive your nipples always are. The way he loved to bury his head into your tits, just suck on them.

But He was interrupted in his dreams, when your face was right in front of him snapping with your fingers in his face. You looked a little angry. "Hey, I was talking to you." you said, a little sharp in the end, your eyes narrowed. He sighted, before he finally was looking up, and Baji stepped closer.

He knew you were a little overwhelmed mess, laying a hand on your cheek. "Well, these girls were talking with me too, and I can't focus on both things." he said playful, of course he was charming.

"Besides, babe, I can't help it when you wear that skimpy top and not even a bra." the cocky man teased, while his other hand already traveled down to your cleavage trying to pull on the top and get a nice look of what underneath was. You slapped his hand away. "Baji Keisuke, I was telling you important things, and you are staring at my tits? You are aware I literally look like trash?" You were a little feisty today, but he grinned. Indeed, he smirked. You were all so defensive and yeah, you two had a hard time...but you had it together. He caught your wrist in his hand as he then laid a finger under your chin and tilting up your head.

And oh, that got you flustered, how it always got you. "You never look like trash. A little tired yes, but hell even when I would be blind I would know I have a sexy girlfriend. It's not like I am complaining." he stated, his voice dripping just a little lower. It was just so adorable how you tried to assert dominance, although it was so easy to make you blush.

„Are they still sensitive?" he asked then, of course the first time you tried to breastfeed your baby, then you tried to pump milk...and it didn't work at all, so after your boobs stopped producing milk. Because it was too less. You started bottle feeding your baby. And he knew your tits and nipples were really sensitive in that time...but you seemed fine about them now, no complaints about pain. Baji then tilted his head. "Sensitive?" you asked him, and tried to gain back composure. He tilted his head, both of your forgotten the fact that you made Yakisoba noodles in a pan.

"Yeah, I want to know if I can have my girls back." he asked, grabbing your chin a little tighter and pulling you close. Your son sleeping peacefully in his room. His free hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Yours girls? You call them girls, when you think about my tits?" Oh, it was so adorable. And slowly, but surly, you felt a wave of arousal. It had been a while after everything was so exhausting.

But he wanted you and he made it clear. "You act as if I would never want these pretty tits in my hands...they are soft and so gorgeous, come on, babe." his voice was a purr and his hand, drifted up to your lose top again, before pulling it slightly down with one finger.

He revealed more of your creamy skin, inch after tantalizing inch. "So pretty...you are so beautiful. I just miss them, miss you...we have a moment don't we?" he suggested, and the loose straps of your top fell down too. And now you stood there with your bare breasts, and you felt his both hands indistinctly grabbed them gently. You gasped, felt your breathing becoming quicker.

"Not that sensitive anymore but don't be too hard." you admitted what he needed to hear. God, he missed your tits, he loved putting his cock in between them, so squishy and soft.

And you always looked just so good, kneeling in front of him, your tits pushed together by your hands. Your cute face looking up at him with that needy and flustered expression. Tongue sticking out to give his tip a lick. His fingers went to roll your nipples between them.

You were whimpering shortly, trying to be quiet. Baji acted quick. "That's all I need to hear." he said with a low growl, before pulling you closer for a heated and searing kiss. You don't want to wake up your kid just because your hardworking boyfriend wanted to have some fun with your tits. After all, you presented them like this to him.

He gently tugged on them before lifting them in his large palms. He groaned lowly at the feeling, and your nipples harden into stiff peaks under his touch. "Fucking need them, baby." he said husky against your lips, and not long... His kisses went down towards your gorgeous breasts before he looked up at you with golden eyes. Locking them with yours, watching how you bite your lip when he sucked on your nipple.

Your Hand ran through his long raven hair, pulling his head closer. "Baby...please." you sighted and then felt how he pushed you to the counter, before lifting you up. This wouldn't be just worshiping your tits, he missed so much...

"Shit, I damn need you...right now." he spoke hotly against your ear, before you already could hear the clink of his belt, all because you didn't want to wear a bra.

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dolcekissy · 2 days ago

Note

i love your work, and I was hoping / wanted to request something based off a song, i dont kno if you have heard it, but i follow someone, jus heard it and it reminded me so so so much of Rafe and having a tumultuous and borderline abusive relationship. it’s by the singer ashanti called rain on me the music video and song remind me of rafe to a T. would yoube comfortable writing a Drabble or One Shot based or similar to it? if not, it’s okay, i know DV is serious and not everyone would want to write about it. thank you!

yes i've heard of the song and watched the video, i can definitely see what you're saying. hope you enjoy!

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes unprotected sex, p in v, domestic violence, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of having a miscarriage. please read at your own risk.

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for the past four years it's been the same with rafe. arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you met rafe six years ago, immediately feeling drawn to him and his voice, the way he spoke with confidence but also nervousness, the eye contact he tried to keep with you, the way he wasn't touchy ─ very respectful of you and your boundaries. you remember the interaction like it was yesterday, the way your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink when he joked with you ─ meeting when you were both 16 at an event his father put together for Cameron Development.

the whole night you two were inseparable, laughing and talking, sneaking alcoholic drinks when no one was looking, stealing a cigarette from behind a drunk man's ear after he dared you to ─ giggling and running up to the roof of the building to smoke it together, coughing and choking while he laughed at you and patted your back. he kissed you when you were staring up at the sky claiming the cigarette gave you a buzz, your head was dizzy from both the cigarette and his lips ─ his lips were so soft.

you and rafe couldn't be apart. always with each other, at each others houses meeting family, sneaking out of your house just to see him even though you guys hung out all day, walking to the beach just to kiss, talk, laugh, staying until the sun kissed the water ─ hurriedly running back once your phone read 7 am. he was in love and so were you, you were his other half, his missing rib. he promised to marry you as soon as you both turned 18, get you a house in tannyhill, give you a baby right after. it was unrealistic but 16 year old you couldn't help but have hearts in her eyes.

he was your first everything. your first time, your first kiss, the first person you loved. the night he took your virginity you both were shaking, sweating, nervous ─ you felt so awkward, so stiff as you both tried to figure it out. he talked you through the pain, kissing you sweetly as he whispered apologies, shakily asking if you're okay or if he should stop, telling you how much he loves you ─ kissing the tears of pain that rolled down your face, moving the hair that stuck to your forehead.

obviously it wasn't the best sex, young and inexperienced, painful and scary, foreign and different but it was with him. with rafe. the person that made life worth living. the next two years were heaven on earth, the memories you created with him were sacred, every minute you spent with him giving you understanding of your purpose here on earth ─ marry him, give him as many babies as he wants, keep the house clean, be a good wife.

it was good, he was good, always knew how to kiss it better so you didn't question it when he slapped you after a disagreement ─ quickly apologizing and kissing your cheek over and over again as you blinked, brushing it off with a shrug and a smile, "it was an accident, right?" ─ fingers tugging on his hair as he ate you out that night to show you how sorry he was, later on stuffing you full of his cock so you understand how sorry he was.

that's when the cycle began, arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you hate yourself for not running when you were 18 and he slapped you for the first time, hate him for manipulating you into believing him, hate yourself for running down to the courthouse and getting married anyway ─ the longer you stayed with him, the worse it got. you'd argue about something stupid, he'd hit you, apologize, fuck you, then stay between your thighs until you begged him to stop.

you hate yourself for still loving him after it all ─ allowing him to make you feel like this, losing weight rapidly, your hair falling out in clumps, barely eating and drinking, depending on his mood to determine the kind of day you have ─ constantly terrified it'll get bad again, flinching every time the front door opens, greeting him with a weary smile, voice soft just in case he's in a bad mood today ─ just in case his attitude is sour enough to beat you and leave you for a few days, just to come home four days later smelling like another woman and fuck you slowly, "make love to ya.", "put a baby in ya." just so you understand how much he loves you, even if he "slaps you up." a couple of times.

it was suffocating, debilitating, humiliating but you loved him. no one would understand, no one would understand how much you miss the old him ─ they wouldn't understand that you stay with him just in case the old him might come back to you, love you as deeply as he loved you before. so yes, you'll hide the bruises and the cuts on your face and body. yes, you'll wear sunglasses to hide the black eyes. yes, you'll lie to the nurses when they ask why there's a gash on your wrist. yes, you will fucking lie and say that you lost your fucking baby due to complications and not him beating you.

yes, you'll show up no matter what to the Cameron Development events and show off the rock on your finger, flash a bright smile, place your arm over his chest while you look up at him with the same eyes he fell in love with. the same eyes that are freshly healed after his last beating.

the same eyes that will be black and blue again tonight because you were too close to a man over by the bar.

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#thanks anon!#read at your own risk #rafe cameron #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagines #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe fanfic #rafe fic #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #obx fic #obx

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awordsmith · 11 hours ago

Text

tangled up 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which you and Spencer join forces to babysit both Jack and Henry.

who? spencer x bau!reader when? s6 category: novella content warnings: not proofed, contains nothing but pure fluff, reader and spencer get mistaken as Jack and Henry's parents... reid with warmth !! word count: 4.9k a/n: first novella fic whaaaa....i've been wanting to write this one for a while, but i knew it wouldn't be that long, so this is perfect for my first novella fic!!; enjoy!

The morning was cold and frosty, and the only thing able to mend it: a large, hot latte. Hotch approached your desk as you set your things down. He leaned over and whispered conspicuously, “Are you sure you can come tonight?”

You rolled your eyes and whispered back, just as secretive, and perhaps some more to show how dramatic he was being, “Yes, Hotch,” you saluted him, “Jack will be in good hands.”

A gruff sound came from his throat–as if signifying his disbelief, “If you say so, do you remember what time?”

“Hotch?”

He looked around, glancing back at you with pressed lips. “Yeah?”

“I got this,” you pushed his hand–gripping your desk–off.

“Right,” he nodded, “no I know.”

You raised a brow and crossed your arms, “so why are you stalling? Is this about your date? Because if you don’t want to go–”

“No,” he dusted his suit off, “I’m–I’m walking away.”

“Uh-huh,” you biot back a smile, feeling Spencer slide up next to you, “and what was that all about?” He kept his inquisitive gaze on your boss.

“Hotch had a date,” you stated, turning to look at him, “I’m babysitting Jack.”

He raised his eyebrows and nodded–but when Penelope called you to the roundtable room and you began to walk away with her, you could hear him mutter, “Why didn’t he ask me?”

JJ rushed in, she apologized for being late as she took her seat. The team watched her; she was flushed, but her face showed clear urgency. She rolled her eyes, “Please do not question me today, I already have enough explaining to do.”

It was silent, but then you just couldn’t help yourself, “...JJ?” She looked at you with a slight warning, but you still asked, “What happened?”

The air in the room evaporated as JJ sucked in a breath, then deflated against her chair, throwing her head back, “Henry’s babysitter quit this morning.” You kept quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. “Will and I were going to go out tonight, we’ve been planning this for weeks now.” she huffs, running a hand through her hair.

Spencer caught your eyes, and though you shook your head, knowing it’d be a bad idea, he still said, “Well, hey, you know I could watch him for you–if you still wanted to go.”

JJ raised a brow and began to shake her head slowly, “I don’t know, Spence–”

“I wouldn’t be alone,” you noted Hotch raising an eyebrow as Spencer motioned toward you, “— is watching Jack, we could babysit them together.”

JJ glanced at you, then at Hotch–hopeful, “Would you both be okay with that?”

Hotch eyes Spencer’s grin for a moment, “Fine, but — has to keep an eye on Reid too.”

“Uh–what?” Spencer threw his arms up, “I’m a great babysitter–are you laughing?” He glared slightly at Morgan.

“Sure you are,” you reached over and patted the top of his hand, you held his gaze for a split second–the both of you trying to hold in your laughter.

You could hear giggling inside. Jack clung to Hotch, he was eight, and yet he still adored his father. The night was young, but starting to grow darker. Today, you had only been called to air a case, so you worked from the office, which you didn’t have the pleasure of doing most days, making it pretty unique.

“Oh, hey guys,” Spencer called, walking up behind you. You frowned, noting his relaxed attire.

“And I didn’t think you owned anything but sweater vests.”

He sighed, “Oh–you just had to comment.”

“That I did,” you nodded, “that I did.”

The front door opened right as Hotch checked his wristwatch, “you guys made it!”

“Would you believe it? Hotch hasn’t canceled yet.”

Your boss glared at you, but your remark earned chuckles from the others, “Yep, and I’ll be late if I don’t leave now.”

JJ stepped out of the house and moved aside, “come on in.” Henry popped his little head out from behind Will and motioned for Jack to follow.

Hotch leaned to the side, eyes only leaving Jack once the boys disappeared behind a corner. “Okay,” JJ approached you, hands on your shoulders, “I am trusting you.”

“Hey–uhm Hi!” Spencer waved, sticking his head over your shoulder, “I’m here too.”

“Yes, that’s why I’m telling her to be careful.”

After a bit of teasing Spencer, Hotch, Will, and JJ left in their cars. “Come, on, it’s freezing out here,” you stuffed your hands into the pockets of your zip-up.

“Let the night begin…”

Spencer stayed, feet glued to the floor for a moment as he watched you wander into the house. He couldn’t help the small smile that grazed his face; he covered it with a hand, closing the door behind him.

Inside you were asking the boys what they wanted to do. Hotch had picked you up from your apartment and you, him, and Jack drove over together–so when Henry suggested the movie theatre, you could only glance at Spencer, wondering if he’d be willing to drive.

He huffed, rolled his eyes, and fell back on the couch in the living room. “We can see what movies are playing, I guess.”

You huffed a laugh and gripped the couch with both hands as you learned over it, watching Jack and Hnery jump on top of Spencer.

“Okay, okay.” He pushed Henry’s foot out of his face and shot you a look when he heard you cover up a snort with a cough.

Upon scrolling through the nearest movie theatre, you found the newest Spider-Man movie was playing, but you had already missed the 7 o’clock one and the next showing was at 8:30. You, Spencer, and the boys agreed to that time, which left you about an hour before you had to leave. Spencer offered to pay and though you had debated with him about going half–he insisted.

You agreed, but only if he let you pay for the snacks. Spencer wasn’t a boyfriend and he wasn’t one of the girls, so it felt weird letting him pay for everything. He was older than you yes, but only by a couple of years, and though you had to remind him of that several times, he never once failed to pull that card over on you.

“What’s that?” Spencer motioned toward the bag you had brought–that you were now unloading on the kitchen counter.

“Ingredients,” you shrugged, “it isn’t real babysitting if you don’t bake something.”

“You bake?” He sat up, throwing something on the television to distract the boys before he made his way toward you.

You brushed it off, “Somewhat.”

“Okay,” he nodded, rounding the counter and meeting your hip with his, “so what are we baking tonight?”

“We?” You raised a brow. He nodded, lips forming a thin line to suppress a grin. “Oh, no,” you huffed a laugh, “we are not–do you even know kitchen etiquette?”

His face scrunched up, “I’m a quick learner.”

“Sarcastic Spencer never fails to amuse me.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, “what’s first?”

You shook your head, a grin escaping you. You snatched the butter he had picked up and smacked him on the shoulder as you went to go find a bow for it, “Wash your hands.”

“Something smells good.” Jack rounded the counter.

“That would be the cookies.” You spun around and bent to your knees, pulling the oven open.

“When’s the movie?” Henry came waddling in, Spencer not too far behind.

You glanced at him, expecting him to answer for the both of you. You smiled to yourself, pulling off the oven mitts when he said, “uh…we have about five more minutes before we should leave.”

You nodded and began searching for a container to put the cookies in, “boys, do you wanna go outside and help Uncle Spencer start the car?”

“Awesome!” Henry shouted, running off to find his coat.

“Can we really start the car?” Jack looked between you and Spencer.

“Of course,” you smiled, nodding.

“Cool,” he too ran off.

“If either of them wrecks my car, I’m holding you responsible.” He jabbed a warning finger in your direction.

You scoffed, wiping your hands on a rag, “right. Spencer, you drive a van.”

“An SUV,” he corrected.

“Yeah, well, you don’t seem the type to care about messing things up.”

He held a hand to his chest, mock hurt flashing across his face, “–and what is that supposed to mean.”

You shrugged, but a cheeky smile pulled your lips upward.

“I’ll see you in the car,” he wandered off in search of the boys. You grabbed three cookies and set them aside on a napkin.

When you walked toward the door, you found Spencer and the boys already secure in the car. You locked the door and made your way down the drive.

“I have something delicious,” you handed each boy a cookie, promising to help Spencer clean out his car if it turned out they made a mess.

You took the third cookie and bit into it. Spencer watched you and he pulled off, turning onto the street. He hit a red light when you were halfway done with it, “were you not going to offer to share?”

Your eyebrows shot up momentarily, “you like sweets?”

“Half you met me?” he shot back.

You huffed, yanking his hand from the steering wheel and toward you, placing the cookie into his hand. The light turned green, so he steered with one arm and used his other to eat the cookie. It was a darling sight, truly. You giggled when a few crumbs fell onto the floor.

“I blame you,” he muttered, his mouth full of cookies as he made his proclamation.

Spencer had bought the tickets online, so as you parked, you made a game plan with the boys. Spencer and Henry would go to the bathroom because he forgot to say something back at the house and you and Jack would stand in line. There were a few games around–and of course, the boys asked to play when they saw them–but you only had ten minutes till the movie began, so you promised when the movie was over, you’d stay a bit longer to play.

There were only three lines open and from what you could tell, pretty long. Jack stuffed his hands into his tiny jacket pockets–he looked comfortable. “Do you know what you want to get?”

He pressed his lips together and notably looked around at the freezers and small box-like shelves separating the lines. They were only about two inches higher than him, maybe three or four higher than Henry.

“I’ve never been here.” You frowned. Jack had never been to a movie theatre or he had never been to this theatre?

“What do you mean?” You stepped forward as the line moved up. A father and his daughter–probably around fourteen–stepped behind you. You took notice, but only because you’ve programmed your brain, they weren’t really important.

Jack shrugged, “What kind of snacks do they have.” You understood Jack didn’t want to speak more on the subject and because you cherished him, you dropped it–but you made a mental note to speak with Hotch about it later.

“Well, I think they have…gummy bears and–oh look–they have cornetto–personally I prefer the cup version–but that’s just me.” Jack laughed and stood on his tippy toes, trying to get a better look at the ice cream flavors.

You caught Spencer walking toward you, Henry skipping a few feet in front of him. He caught your wave and nodded toward Jack, who now stepped to the side of the counter–looking through the glass. “How much time do we have?”

Spencer checked his watch once more, his casual attire contrasting. He wore his glasses–which you absolutely adored–a pair of blue jeans substituted his normal khakis, and he wore a black hoodie with red writing on the back. He wore tenashoes instead of his work shoes and his silly socks were hidden beneath the fabric of his jeans. It made you frown slightly: you couldn’t tease him about it.

“Do you want anything?” You asked as the boys began listing off candy to the cashier.

“No, I’m good.” He shook his head, stuffing his hands into the singular pocket of his hoodie.

“Wanna share a bowl of popcorn?” You pleaded and eventually, he gave in.

You asked for two smaller bowls so you could split the large bowl between you, Spencer, and the boys. Spencer physically winced when you swiped your card–you saw it happen. It sent a flutter through you and your face reddened as much as it could. You covered it up with a laugh, hoping Spencer didn’t find it weird, though the look he threw you said otherwise.

You found your seats, the boys settled in the middle of the two of you. You separated the popcorn between the boys, but then realized it’d be an issue sharing with Spencer if he was all the way on the other side, so instead, you gave him one of the smaller bowls, filled his and Hnery’s, and shared the big bowl with Jack.

You made it in time for the credits which you hated, but Spencer loved. It put a goofy smile on his face as he explained every ad,s aying how they were trying to tug at your heartstrings or logical side. “But we’re too smart, aren’t we?” He met your gaze.

The boys turned toward you, where you now adorned a serious nod, “oh, yeah, we’re way too smart to fall fo that, right boys?”

“Yep!” they nodded triumphantly.

“And why is that?” Spencer rounded the question back to him.

“Because we’re profilers,” Jack asked hesitantly.

“Exactly,” you jabbed a finger at him, messing with his hair a little. He laughed and leaned away, pushing your hand toward the popcorn bowl.

Spencer watched you–but not just your person. He wanted your actions, your facial expression, the way you interacted and spoke to Jack, the way you joked with Henry, the way you took every opportunity you could to tease him about absolutely anything.

He felt his heart tense and then fall to his stomach once he realized what was occurring. Was he falling in love? Was this what that feeling was? Was this how falling in love happened? You noticed minuscule, insignificant things about a person like the way they laughed? Or the way smiled? You analyzed them so thoroughly that you could tell what they would say before they said it. Or know the action they’re about to take before they make it?

He couldn’t tell. Spencer had never been in love before. He had never fallen in love. But was that what this was? He didn’t have a definitive answer, he just knew he wanted to be closer. To you. To you in every way. He wanted you to want to be close to him and he wondered if that was love.

Because if it was, wouldn’t that mean he’d already fallen? But it didn’t feel right. It felt…like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Like he had been searching for an answer he knew was somewhere in his brain, but hadn’t figured it out until just now.

The movie played and he tried his best to watch it–he grasped the general concept, but he was more focused on, well, you.

Did he love you? Could he say that with genuine confidence? He wouldn’t know until he tried it out, but he couldn’t. Because what if he didn’t? What if what he felt for you was simply pure friendship–he’d be making a crucial mistake, one) if you didn’t like him you’d be weirded out and if you did he chanced hurting you, two) you worked together, that was an issue in and of itself.

He jumped when you stood, watching as you stretched. “What?” You raised a brow, a tired smile forming you mouth.

He found himself smiling back, his stomach flipping, “nothing. Just…tired.”

“Ugh,” you rolled your eyes, yawning, “me too. We should head back now, it’s pretty late. We need to take them baths.”

“Yeah,” Spencer glanced at Jack, who was now standing, and Henry, who was fast asleep in his seat.

Spencer tried waking him slightly, but he wasn’t budging, “just carry him,” you suggested.

Deciding it was the only option, Spencer gripped Henry’s armpits and heaved him upward as gently as he could. You watched him as he laid Hnery’s head on his shoulder, the boy snuggling into the crook of his neck, hugging your coworker tightly.

“Awww,” you sounded like Penelope but you didn’t care, this was too cute a moment not to capture. Whipping out your phone, you ignored Spencer’s pleas and snapped multiple photos from every angle.

Heading to the lobby of the theatre, you nudged Jack, “I’m guessing you don’t want to play some of the games anymore?”

Jack shook his head and rubbed his eyes, “no. m’just tired.”

You nodded, pulling him into your side as you walked, “Me too, buddy, me too.”

You passed an elderly couple on the way out, Henry slightly waking up when the cold air hit his face. “Are we home?” He asked.

The elderly couple snickered and said, “You’re a cute family.”

You opened your mouth to correct the woman, but her husband added, “You look just like we did, don’t they?” before you could. He turned to his wife, made clear by the matching rings.

“Oh, they do,” then she bent over and asked Jack, “What movie did your mommy and daddy take you to see.”

Instead of correcting the couple, Jack glanced at you, then Spencer, and grinned–though it was sleepy– “Spider-Man 2.”

“Ah, I’m afraid I haven’t seen that one, is it good?”

“Really good,” Henry answered from Spencer’s arms.

They laughed again, then apologized for keeping you and made their way inside.

You and Spencer said nothing as you made your way to the car. Jack and Henry were silent as well. You wondered just what was going through Jack’s head. Maybe he was too tired to understand or care about the women’s words. Yeah, that must have been it.

You decided you would ignore it just as you would ignore the flutter that continuously courced through you the entirety of the night.

With much prodding, you were able to get Henry into the bath. Jack didn’t take much convincing, but he assured you he could do it himself, which you shouldn’t have believed because he ended up getting shampoo into his eyes.

Spencer finished helping him, though it was hard because Jack insisted on showering. Eventually, the two boys were tucked into Henry’s twin-sized bed, and you and Spencer had a little free time before the others arrived.

You grabbed the bowl of cookies that you’d tucked on the counter near the fridge before you’d left. You meant to eat them at the kitchen counter, but Spencer wanted you to watch some movie he had put on. You would blame and hold him responsible for any crumbs that didn’t land in the bowl.

His chuckle was low and light, just like every other time you found yourself making him laugh. It sent a flutter through your chest and you had to turn away to keep from letting him know just how flustered that one sound could make you.

You shivered, you typically brought a sweater with you everywhere just in case, but you were going to JJ’s house, and you knew she’d let you borrow a few blankets.

“Where are you going?” Spencer caught your wrist as you stood. Your heart jolted and you couldn’t help but stare at it. You blinked a few times before he let go. He sucked in a breath as if you’d stung him. You weren’t sure what he meant by that or if he meant anything at all by it. Spencer was normally an awkward person, but this didn’t feel like something he’d be awkward about, in fact, Spencer would never be put in this situation simply because Spencer hated physical contact.

Maybe that’s why he had such a reaction. You brushed it off, letting a shy smile replace the longing frown, “Just the hall closet to find a blanket…want one?”

Spencer shook his head and wanting to escape the atmosphere, you bottled toward the hall. You retrieved the first blanket on top. It was white with little blue bunnies. Cute. You thought, it must be Henry’s.

“I’m back,” you hopped on the couch, keeping a cushion between the two of you, for fear of making him uncomfortable.

He declined your offer of a cookie and opted to lean back. It might have just been your imagination, but you were sure Spencer kept sneaking glances at you. You thought he must be bored, he’d put on a '90s romcom. Though you loved the, you were surprised when Spencer put it on. But then maybe he put it on for you and that’s why he kept glancing at you.

You huffed under a cookie, that’s so like him.

Halfway through the movie, you’d discarded the bowl of cookies with four left and began to feel the lights dim. Or maybe it was just you. You took a moment and laid your head back but it was uncomfortable. As you shifted on the couch, a yawn escaped you.

Spencer caught it, attention now fully focused on you, he smiled at your dreary state. He moved one leg under him and without really thinking much about it–if it’d make you uneasy or not–he took you by the shoulders and lowered your head into his lap. You noticed, but barely. He pulled the blanket over you as your arms wrapped around his thigh. Your head snuggled into him and when a satisfactory hmm released itself from your throat, he snorted a little.

He loved you, or at least he thought he did. Spencer had never loved anyone. Well, he loved his mom, but he knew he was programmed that way. He loved quantum physics and math and chemistry and psychology, but those were very broad terms, and still not a being. He liked cats, but he couldn’t love a cat–well, he could–but that was a different discussion.

You, on the other hand, he always wanted to be around. You, on the other hand, he always wanted to talk to. You, he fell asleep thinking about; you, he dreamt about; you, he woke up to.

You were always on his mind, there was no way around it. In every conversation–though he rarely voiced it–he could always draw back to you. Penelope bought a new pink fluffy pen? You loved pens. Dereck couldn’t sleep at night because of his neighbor. You could sleep anywhere–it was a skill. Spencer couldn’t sleep at all, really, and when he did–well, he’d already know what he’d dream about.

He couldn’t escape you–but well, he didn’t want to.

The biggest evidence of his feelings for you? He hated–absolutely loathed–the thought of you talking to/dating/marrying anywhere else. He made a face, the thought disgusted him;; it made him sick.

The front door unlocking jolted him out of his thoughts… how long had he sat there watching you? Going back and forth in is mind? His mind began wondering and the lights began to fade. His shoulder drooped and he began pushing you backward, fixing you until you were both comfortable.

“Just for…a bit…” he yawned before the lights went out.

Spencer jerked when he heard the front door unlock. He was always keenly aware of his surroundings–it was a bad habit he picked up in his years at the BAU.

JJ and Will stepped through the door as quietly as they could, the credits were rolling. The movie must have just ended. 48 minutes?

“Hey–” JJ whispered walking toward him.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, but was weighed down, and upon looking–found you still sound asleep. He smiled, but when he realized JJ could see him, he fixed it to a plain expression.

Spencer held up a hand and pressed a finger to his lips, his eyes widened slightly in concern when he looked down at you. Which was ridiculous, he couldn’t stay in this position the entire night, much less on JJ’s couch. You both had work in the morning and you needed to get home. Right…but where was Hotch? How would you get home?

He was startled by your shifting movements. Upon glancing at you again, he found you stirring. JJ covered up a small laugh, and turned back to Will, shushing him as he stalked over.

“Hotch texted, he should be here soon,” JJ whispered.

Spencer nodded as you lifted your head, he raised his arms just enough for you to have free reign, if you pushed out of his hold, he’d have no choice but to let go.

But you didn’t, you pulled him closer and buried your face into where his thigh met his hip. “Five more minutes.”

JJ snatched her phone from her pocket and began snickering, “Penelope is going to love this.”

“Hey–come on, JJ–don’t–” Spencer’s protests went ignored as JJ clicked a few photos and slipped her phone back into the back pocket of her jeans.

A knock sounded on the door not a moment later, Will went to open it while JJ sat on the arm of the couch and smiled down at her two coworkers. “Do you think she can hear us?”

Spencer opened his mouth to say no, but raised a brow and glanced at you questioningly, he wasn’t sure you knew where you were, let alone could make sense of a complete sentence. “I’m gonna go with probably not.”

They chuckled to themselves. Hotch waved, before following Will down the hall toward Henry’s room. You yawned and rolled onto your back, stretching over Spencer. “Hi,” you blinked up, a slow smile turning up your lips.

He met your sleepy gaze with one of his own, “hi,” he answered.

Hotch came back out with a very asleep Jack, calling out your name, You sighed, forcing yourself upward. “Guess I better go.”

Once again, Spencer felt his subconscious take hold of his body as he held an arm across your stomach, “I could take you…I mean I wouldn’t mind, besides,” he nodded toward Hotch and Jack, “he should get Jack home.”

JJ watched in silent awe. It was one thing for Spencer to shake hands with someone let alone hug them, so when she stepped through her doors and found you snuggled up to him, her suspicion-radar was going off. Spencer definitely had a thing for you, or at the very least felt most comfortable with you. In her mind, you were his person, and that didn’t have to be romantic, it was just how it was.

Now, though, watching his eyes, there was no doubt in her mind. Spencer Reid was in love. She wondered what kind of catastrophic event occurred for this to happen.

“You sure?” You murmured, rubbing your eyes. You were halfway leaning against his chest, and halfway using his shoulder to stay steady.

“Yeah, of course.”

Hotch seemed to get the gist of the conversation, whispered a few goodbyes, and headed out the door.

“You made cookies,” JJa noted.

“Yep, there’s four left, but they’re probably all stale now.”

“Well, maybe you two can babysit again and make me fresh ones.”

“I helped, you know,” Spencer added.

“Yeah, ‘helped’ so much I almost had to buy you a new pan.” After a good laugh, you stood and stretched, catching Spencer’s yawn, “well, it’s getting pretty late, we should head out.”

“Alright then, drive safe.”

“I’m always a safe driver.”

“I know you are, Spence.” She pressed her lips together, glancing at you, wondering if you even felt a smidgen of what Spencer felt for you.

The car ride was smooth, Spencer had been over a few times, and with his memory, he knew the way by heart. “Thanks for doing this.” You grabbed his hand as he pulled into your complex.

Spencer jolted, his head jerked down: his focus on where your hands connected. “Oh–sorry, I forgot–”

You snatched your hand away, but Spencer was quick to grab it back. “No–no it’s…” he stared at you. He could lose his mind and still be able to put a name to your eyes. They were like none he’d ever seen–which is opinionated, of course, in his mind, you were all there ever was. “It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, “I…know how you hate people touching you.”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged sheepishly, “but when it’s you it’s okay.”

Your heart leaped at that and maybe it was because you were half-awake and when you were half-wake you became even more delusional than you were daily. “So, you don’t mind if I touch you?”

“No, not at all.” He replied immediately as if he had been programmed to.

You couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way onto your face, “good to know.”

You opened the car door and started exiting his vehicle. “Hey, —?”

“Yeah?” You yawned again, the sky a blue-black kind of color.

“What does that mean?”

“What does what mean?” You frowned.

“You know,” he tried motioning with his hands, which only made you snort.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “no idea.” You spun around, starting the path to your apartment, “see you tomorrow, Spencer.”

Spencer frowned, he knew he would think about this the rest of the night, if he could sleep he’d probably dream about it, and when he woke up, it would most definitely be the first thing on his mind.

a/n: lol i've been working on this forever (like a month) and i cried in my maths a few days ago because i couldn't understand it–#mathisnotforme

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

#spencer reid #fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer ried #doctor spencer reid #spencer #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #bau team #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #love it or hate it #tangled up

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andiberzatto · 3 days ago

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This is how I think Carmy would handle comforting his crying girlfriend if she just broke down in-front of him when she finds him in his office at The Bear…

Carmy had turned towards you with his chair upon hearing the office door swing open, he’s in his signature white shirt and chef pants. You had pushed the door to his office open, not caring to knock given the stare you were in. Richie had told you Carmy would be there working on “supplier bullshit” in the back office but to go ahead.

And there he was, as promised. He nods with his head towards you, biting his lower lip unconsciously as his lips make a lazily smile, a thing he does when he’s stressed or thinking. "Hey-” the happy greeting dies in his throat as he takes in the way your face changes the moment he looks at you; it’s replaced with a “What's up? something wrong?" His voice is gentle and smooth, it always is, if it’s towards her.

Something just snaps at his asking and she breaks down at the gentle tone. Carmy is across the room and has her in his arms in a matter of seconds. He is slightly panicked by the tears in her eyes but trying to remain calm. He’s running a million scenarios in his head at what she could be crying over; Did he forget an important date? No he made sure to put those into his phone calendar and double check the days….had he done something to set her off? Besides being busy all day answering calls… not really. Normally it’s not this bad of a response. Was Richie being a dick to her? Plausible… yes… currently not so much. Was it something outside of them? Her family? Anything…

He rubs her back and kisses her the top of her head. he’s not good with words, but he’s good with this part of it. Once carmy has gotten comfortable in your relationship to touch you and hold you, that’s all he’d want to do when you were upset. It’s fool proof, no fancy hoops to jump through, no psychoanalysis of what to say. Just comfort in the simplest form. Carmy just does that for a while, letting her cry. Her signature ultra black mascara making a mess off his white shirt but he doesn’t mind.

She would mumble something about getting his shirt all wet and stained with her makeup and he would reply “I care about you right now, fuck the white tshirt… what’s goin on with you?”. He would say it gently and murmured against her ear, giving her his voice to focus on.

Her breathing would relax and the sobs would start to slow as he started to talk to her more, he’s wasn’t good at the words for comfort thing. But he knew it’s what she needed sometimes so for her he’d try.

He’s a murmuring fumbling mess; “uh…I gotchu..” “you know it’s okay.. you got me…” “breathe angel…” “there you go… take another breath wit me…”

He would try to mirror the way you calm him down when he’s having panic attacks, it’s the only way he’s learned how to talk someone into calming down.

Once she’s calmer, and he feels okay enough that he can step away without her falling to tears again. He lets her relax and breathe in his office with a plastic prep cup full of ice water while he rushes into the kitchen of The Bear to grab her a plate of whatever is easiest to cook and plate that would comfort her. Something warm and easy to eat like his fancy take on Risotto for the week among the ever changing menu at the Bear. The menu was inconsistent and chaos and busy. But there was nothing more comforting than Carmy’s cooking.

He would sit by her silently as she talks about her shit day or week and eats the food, rubbing her back or touching her in some way. He always had to have a hand on her in some form if she was ever recovering from being upset.

#carmen berzatto #carmy x reader #the bear #andiberzattothoughts

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umathurwin · 2 days ago

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Omg hi! I feel like I’m the only sofia hater out there bc all i see are people loving her character is so boring to me and her and rafe relationship seems so forced to me like she is supposed to help him reconcile with his sister but instead, she spent all season doing nothing apart from the hollis plot

being called a sofia hater cracks me up because i feel like i never talk about her, in fact i usually forget she exists 😭 but i’ll accept it, because i really do hate the way her character (which had a great premise) was totally wasted

a youtuber i really love once described pansy parkinson from harry potter as “an original character wearing the skin of a minor character” and i think that perfectly encapsulates sofia. they make these moodboards, these stories, these elaborate headcanons about a character we know little to nothing about. do i respect it? hell yes. it takes a lot of work. but to have these intense convictions and arguments about a 0.5-dimensional character… WHY?

i went and rewatched every scene in s4 where she even just appears and wrote down my thoughts on them (despite how tedious this was… the action really does rely on the pogues) and like… wow. where do i start

her s4 introduction is the scene where rafe scatters ward’s ashes on the boat, and it’s awkward but in a fair way. i wouldn’t really know what to do either. in the same episode, she’s at the enduro cheering for rafe, but she is inexplicably standing TOTALLY by herself. i still have no idea if this was just filmed oddly or if it was deliberate but this photo kills me… girl why are you alone? at no other point is she physically excluded from the kooks like this. wtf

and after that? nearly every single moment she and rafe share the screen? he’s awful to her. he verbally mocks her in the bar when she tries to calm him down. he flirts with hollis right in sofia’s face and abases her for feeling hurt. he dismisses her every time she tries to express her opinion. rafe does not respect his girlfriend, nor does he care about her thoughts and values. how do i know?

because she knows. how exactly did she convince him to take the deal, again? well, first she says she thinks it’s a good idea, which merely amuses him. then, she makes up a lie about other club members denigrating rafe and how this deal could improve his social status—i believe this to be a fabrication because it easily could’ve and should’ve been explicit on screen if true— and this causes him make up his mind. she knows rafe’s insecurities. she knows what does and doesn’t entice him. and yeah, i’ll be honest, sometimes it makes me sick to think about how deeply she knows this man, and how little he knows/cares about her

rafe brings up marriage, living together, a future with sofia. but do you notice anything about his big grand speeches? ever notice how, when he’s describing his fantasy, it revolves around material things he can own and show off— and sofia has always been one of them? rafe never has anything to say about what she specifically does for him, what he likes about her. bc… what does he like about her? rafe is unfortunately, at the end of the day, selfish. he focuses on what he’ll be able to give her, and what having a pretty wife says about him. the occupant of that role is, well, interchangeable

when rafe “proposed” to her and she did not confess the scam, i knew it was over. this is rafe cameron we’re talking about, a man who values loyalty more than anything in the world, and that was her last shot at coming clean before it was too late. committing a betrayal (well…in the eyes of the narrative…more on that in a sec) and hiding it from him? guys there was zero chance of him learning the truth and forgiving her. i watched the premier with my mother and i even turned to her and said we just watched the final nail go into the coffin. and it did!

(also, not to beat a dead horse, but even after he gives her the ring and he leaves to morocco, he dismissively excludes her again! “i have to go” “what are you doing?” “don’t worry about it, bye!” and she just takes it?! STAND UP!)

fundamentally, sofia’s “betrayal” plotline was weak or, at the very least, not very well thought-out. it’s like the idea of sofia going behind rafe’s back was pitched, but they were unsure how to integrate that into the season. the explosive reaction that rafe had when groff revealed the plot seemed contrived, like the show wanted to put more of the blame on sofia than was warranted. rafe had all but made up his mind by the time sofia had been paid off; to claim that she was the big catalyst in his decision is unfair and literally just wrong. sure, he liked her giving her blessing (because he already wanted to say yes), but i have a really, really genuine question for all of you.

if she had said no, would he have called off the deal?

(spoiler, no. because when she changed her mind after learning of the scam, he dismissed her yet again. the show has countless opportunities for rafe to just care about his girlfriend, and he never takes them!)

while i’m nitpicking, she also never learns any information via her own efforts. every single time she uncovers a new detail, it’s because she’s working around a loud-mouth kook who coincidentally says the right thing at the right moment as she refills their ewers. fuck, can we give her a CRUMB of agency? please?

and yeah, i don’t even engage in any theory that sofia helped rafe reunite with his family. did she ever give any meaningful advice to him? she didn’t even have context—was he ever planning on telling her exactly what he’d done to sarah and her friends? could sarah even pick this girl out of a lineup?! ya, she really is the glue in the cameron dynamic. lol

counter arguments i’m ready to address:

“he takes the deal for her!” funny because,,, he really doesn’t. we even watch the reason he takes the deal— his family. rafe likes the opportunity from the jump but is hesitant because of the investment, and a dreamy montage of him, ward, and sarah is what cements his decision. sofia canonically had nothing to do with it

“but he says he’s taking the deal for him and sofia when he’s alone with hollis!” correct! but you’ll notice he literally only brings her up when hollis starts hitting on him. he’s not attracted to hollis, and her advances make him visibly uncomfortable. bringing up sofia was a way to shut down hollis without explicitly telling a business partner to get off his ass

“rafe brings up sofia’s opinion of the deal with groff!” true, but i actually see this as a display of rafe’s tact and emotional intelligence. rafe is suspicious that he’s been scammed, but it’s genuinely not wise to barge into the office of the man who has $400k of your money and your testicles in his fist to start threatening him— even when he’s not a murderer. “hey… so my gf thinks you’re scamming me… thoughts?” he’s being coy. he’s being smart. he’s not bringing up sofia in a loverboy context. cmon

***

deep inhale. okay, i’m done. i’m sorry i always forget about her. but it’s so much better than the alternative

#what’s sick is this is like… the abridged version of my thoughts. i’m working on concision #*writes an essay about a side character that i often forget exists*#thank you for the ask!!! 💖#follow for more diet coke and cannabis-fueled rants here at umathurwin #outer banks #obx #sofia outer banks #sofia obx #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #answered

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scariusaquarius · 2 days ago

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rehab. 15.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

A/n: I'M SO SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG. Shit in my life hit a royal fan, so that took a lot of my immediate attention. So, we got into Tony's head, and now I think we should jump into the other groups now <3 Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

Author: ScariusAquarius

rehab masterlist. chapter 14

Steve could still remember the way the HYDRA base had smelled the first time he had seen Bucky since he'd gone missing in action during World War II. The burning oil from the guns, the smoke and iron from explosions and blood staining the air like wine on white, and the smell of ozone just before it began to rain. It was all as though it was yesterday despite it being almost 80 years since then.

80 years since he last saw Peggy Carter.

Well, Steve guessed he could count the times he saw her after he woke up; her old and frail body reminding him of the time he had lost since he went under the ice...her casket heavy upon Steve's shoulder when he carried her to the hearse the day of her funeral.

But it didn't take away the feelings of regret and sorrow. Steve didn't regret putting the plane beneath the ice, but he did regret never getting that raincheck for their dance. Even so, Steve knew that Peggy would have wanted him to be happy; to keep fighting for what he believed in; to keep fighting for the little guys.

And so that's what Steve did. He kept fighting, kept saving, kept advocating, and yet it never felt like it was enough. Even when he saved Bucky, Steve still felt as though something was missing. There was never enough records, old antiques that weren't actually antiques to him, never enough clothes that felt right; it all just reminded him that he was living in a time that wasn't his own.

But unlike (Y/n) (L/n), he'd been allotted a lot of time to get used to the new world. Granted, Steve still couldn't stand the hustle and bustle and the noise of the New World, but Steve imagined that it was ten times harder for her. Hell, he still couldn't stand fireworks, and Bucky downright sobbed during the holidays because of them.

Steve sighed as he thumbed at the worn lensatic compass that still held that pretty picture of Peggy in it, and he couldn't help but to look at the picture, pursing his lips.

Yes, Steve understood what it meant to be out of place and because of that, it made him determined to help those that were like him and Bucky if and when he met them.

When he came across the female Winter Soldier with Bucky, Steve had felt shocked yet relieved for having found this woman, and though Bucky had been so reluctant to save her from staying frozen until the end of time, Steve couldn't help but feel determined to defrost her and save her, Peggy's words repeating in his head like a mantra.

"The world has changed, and none of us can go back. All we can do is our best, and sometimes, the best that we can do, is to start over."

Just like him and Bucky, this woman also deserved a chance to start over; to be free of what HYDRA had done to her, and though Steve didn't want to admit it, he couldn't help but to see Bucky again when he looked at this woman.

Though, even Steve knew that what they had done to her had been ten times worse given the horrific scars that had been covering her body. Steve hadn't watched any of the recorded clips that Shuri had obtained while working on the woman's programming, but given the way Shuri, Tony, and Bucky had been acting since being shown the clips, Steve didn't even want to watch them.

Even he knew that he might lose his cool for once.

It made it even worse when Steve discovered that Jack Rollins had been her Handler. Did Brock know, too? Did he also Handle this woman under the guise that it was 'nothing personal'?

"Still feels personal," Steve muttered to himself. Steve became aware of Sam leaning against the wall beside him, his arms crossed and looking ahead as they waited for Thor to arrive at their location to begin their investigation.

"You know, I think you really just like missing person cases. Have you thought of being a detective?"

Steve couldn't help but to chuckle as he glanced at Sam, stating with a small smile.

"I thought about it, but I don't think I'd be satisfied like I am now."

Sam barked out a laugh, shaking his head as he gestured to Steve's shield with a raised brow.

"Just can't seem to stay away, huh?"

"I know, it follows me everywhere, man."

The two men chuckled, and Sam stared at Steve for a moment, noticing the downtrodden look crawl back upon the old Captain's face, and he pointed out to Steve.

"You seem like you're back in the trenches."

Steve chuckled before shaking his head slightly, teasing gently.

"I never was actually in the trenches, so that might be a question for Bucky rather than me."

Sam shook his head a bit as well, making a face at Steve before stating.

"Well, I'm not about to go make a quick trip to ask. Seriously, man, what's on your mind?"

Steve pursed his lips tightly before he admitted to Sam, giving the man a worried look.

"I'm just...worried about the woman is all. With Bucky's rehabilitation, it hadn't been easy for him...and it still isn't, if I'm honest. I'm worried that he might have been right...if it would have been better for us to leave her frozen so she wouldn't be in danger like she is."

Sam glanced over at Steve, regarding him with a thoughtful look before he crossed his arms and replied thoughtfully.

"I think you're overthinking it, Steve. Even if you'd have left her there, she would have been in the same amount of danger as she is now."

Steve looked over at Sam, giving the man his undivided attention as Sam continued to speak his mind.

"Just like with Bucky, you strived to advocate for her; to give her a life and the ability to choose who she wants to be. If you ask me, that's a pretty big deal...especially considering who and what she is. You surrounded her with people that actually want to help her and not use her. I think that you and I both know that this is going to be a difficult road, but I also know it'll be worth it to see her blossom into herself and not what HYDRA wanted her to be. Just like with Bucky."

Sam clasped Steve's shoulder, giving him a firm look.

"You did the right thing, Steve...and if that doesn't make you think so...then I think at least Peggy would have been proud."

Steve couldn't help but to furrow his brows at the mention of Peggy, glancing down at the compass again, and he shook his head.

"No wonder you're a speaker at the VA. You're pretty good at this."

"You have to be. Sometimes you're the only thing a brother or a sister has left."

The two men couldn't help but to jolt as the Bifrost Bridge suddenly came crashing down beside them with a bang of thunder, Thor Odinson shaking his shoulders a little bit as a spark of lightning crawled over his chest as he appeared.

"I did not anticipate how difficult a phone could be. What's even the point of it when you could just tell me what I need to know in person. Even a raven would suffice. Less problems."

Sam couldn't help but to ask as he brushed off the invisible dust from his uniform as Steve gave Thor an understanding look.

"I don't reckon you get great service from Asgard, huh?"

"Terrible, actually, I couldn't even hear a word Tony Stark was saying...which isn't really tragic."

Steve nodded a bit before he asked Thor, the God of Thunder giving him a curious look.

"I don't suppose you were able to hear what was going on all the while?"

Thor then made a face as if trying to remember the interaction with Tony, saying.

"Well, I think I hung up when Tony said to meet you here, so not really."

Steve almost lost his composure, closing his eyes and shaking his head while Sam just snorted, crossing his arms.

"Right. We're going after a HYDRA operative by the name of Jack Rollins. We don't really know where he is, but the site that we're going to is a possible location. Even if he's not there, we're going to eradicate any possible activity. It's about time that HYDRA is stopped once and for all. Tony was able to capture an image of the base, so we should get moving."

The three of them began to journey to the HYDRA base, Thor asking as they walked and kept an eye out for danger.

"So, what is the significance of this human? Other than the fact that he is apart of this...horrible organization, it seems there is more to this than I am being informed of."

Steve gave Thor a look, almost like a brother chastising the other.

"Well, if you hadn't hung up on Tony, he would have been able to tell you."

Thor just waved off Steve, shrugging his shoulders a little bit as they began to approach the HYDRA base.

"His theatrics annoy me."

Steve wisely elected not to comment, instead giving Thor the rundown of the last couple of weeks.

"Bucky and I rescued a woman that was a part of the Winter Soldier program...probably created right after Bucky was. We've been trying to rehabilitate her and free her from HYDRA's mind control, but we've been having issues. Jack Rollins was her Handler, and he's been controlling her remotely...probably for a while."

Thor then hummed, saying with a raised brow as he swung Mjolnir around.

"It sounds as though this is personal."

"Potentially. What matters the most is that we eradicate HYDRA. If not for her or Bucky, then for the world. This is a dangerous group of people that are willing to do whatever it takes to gain complete control."

Thor sighed heavily, looking down at the hammer in his hands, scrunching his nose a little bit as he spoke while pointing Mjolnir at Steve.

"Well, even so, I understand the need to protect the honor of a maiden, so I shall accompany you to this HYDRA base and we shall cut off every head of the beast until the earth is pouring with its blood."

Sam and Steve stared at Thor for a moment before Sam asked him with a squint.

"Did you just come up with that on the spot or are you always this poetic?"

Thor shrugged, giving Sam a thoughtful expression as he replied.

"It comes and goes. My mother used to recite the Vǫluspá to Loki and I when we were younger."

Sam just gave Steve a look, and the old Avenger just shrugged his shoulders before asking the two men.

"Are you guys ready? We're closing in."

Thor then asked as Steve and Sam began to carefully maneuver through the trees to stay out of sight while the God continued to walk as if there was no threat imminent.

"Do you think that I could meet this woman? I think it'll be fascinating. Are female Winter Soldier's different than males? Can she kick Barnes' ass like a Valkyrie?"

Steve pursed his lips, glancing back at Thor with a raised brow.

"Do you want to find out?"

"Well, I think a round or two would be healthy. You know, gauge her skills...see where she can improve."

Sam gave Steve a questioning look.

"Didn't she put a knife through the quinjet windshield? You know, the one made with synthesized AM-III carbon?"

"I don't know what that is."

Thor pointed out with a confused look on his face, and Steve just replied.

"It's strong as hell."

Thor just nodded before he gestured to the large building that they had approached.

"This is the supposed base?"

"Yes. We want to try to be as inconspicuous as possible just in case there is activity."

When Thor didn't respond, Steve and Sam both looked back with a confused look before the sound of thunder and lightning crashing down on the building made the two Avengers fill with dread.

"Is there anybody in the Avengers initiative that actually listens to you?"

Steve just sighed and replied.

"Let's just follow him."

The mission began then, the two men desperately chasing after the God as Thor flew through the building. What perturbed Steve, however, was the fact that there seemed to be no fighting. No yells, no gunshots, no explosions.

Silence.

The place was empty, barren of any furniture and equipment nor documents. It was as though it had been completely cleaned out. Thor came back with a frown, stating as he looked around with confusion.

"The rest of the area is completely barren. Nobody has been here for a while."

"Did you check the lower levels?"

Thor glanced back at the hole he had created on the floor, scratching the back of his head.

"I think so."

Sam shook his head, adjusting his goggles so that they were sitting on top of his head.

"That just doesn't make any sense. It's almost as if they know where we're looking and are cleaning everything out right under our noses."

Steve pursed his lips and looked at Thor.

"You're positive that there was nothing in the building?"

Thor frowned, crossing his arms.

"Why would I be dishonest to you?"

Sam pursed his lips again before he asked.

"What if they have someone on the inside already?"

Thor and Steve looked at Sam with similar expressions of dread. Sam shrugged and continued.

"We know that HYDRA is scary-good at infiltrations and establishing themselves in even the most secure places in the world. In a kingdom of thousands, a rat is bound to get through somehow, especially when the King is already preoccupied with trying to find a specific person. It's just like Nat said: it's easier to get things done when the attention isn't on you."

Thor pointed towards Steve, stating.

"We should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. If he is right, then that means the maiden and your friend are in danger of this foul beast. I can get us there almost immediately using the Bifrost Bridge so they are not devoured by the HYDRA."

Both Steve and Sam give Thor a questioning look.

"You...know it's not a real beast, right?"

Thor made a face at them both.

"Of course I knew that...I just thought it'd be poetic."

Thor looked away, but Sam could still see the embarrassed look on the god's face before he looked to Steve, who was shaking his head to get back on track.

"Listen, we can't just leave the quinjet behind. Stark will have my ass about it."

Steve protested, and Sam clasped his shoulder with a frown.

"You two go on ahead, I'll fly that bird home. Bucky and (Y/n) are in danger, Steve. The quicker you get there, the better off they'll be."

Steve nodded and Thor grabbed the captain's shoulder, nodding to Sam.

"Good luck."

With a strange sound of surging energy, the Bifrost suddenly crashed down upon Thor and Steve, leaving Sam where he was standing as he watched the bridge disappear, and Sam couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"One of these days....just you wait."

STORY NOTES: Steve recalls the HYDRA base that he had found Bucky in after Bucky went missing back in WWII. He recalls the smell of smoke, burnt gun oil, and other scents during that time, and Steve makes a note that he could still remember that day clearly. He begins to think about Peggy Carter and his regrets and sorrows of not getting to spend his life with her like he wanted to, and so to honor her, he continues to fight for those around him.

He begins to sympathize with (Y/n) (L/n) and how it must be jarring for her to be thrust into an era she is not from, and the struggles that came with adjusting to a new world. He recalls that when he had found her, Bucky had been reluctant to save her, but Steve was determined because of the memory of a quote that Peggy had said to him before she passed away.

After some more personal reflections, Steve is greeted by Sam Wilson, who jokes with Steve to lighten the mood. When he is unsuccessful, Sam asks Steve what is on his mind. Steve opens up to Sam about his worries and how he is wondering if Steve had done the right thing in defrosting the woman, and Sam is adamant that Steve had done the right thing. He tells Steve that he thinks Peggy would have been proud, and Steve begins to feel better.

The moment is interrupted with the arrival of Thor Odinson, who makes a complaint about the difficulty of cellular devices and how it would have been much easier for someone to send a raven to him. Sam makes a joke about the reception in Asgard, to which Thor quips that he couldn't hear what Tony was saying and it 'wasn't really tragic'. Steve asks Thor if he was able to hear the mission details, and Thor reveals that he actually hung up on Tony, not that he had bad reception.

Steve begins to go into details about their mission and what the plan is, and Thor makes a comment that the mission seemed personal. Steve is vague with his response, but neither Thor nor Sam comment about it. When Thor mentions cutting off 'every head of the beast', Sam makes a joke, in which Thor replies that his mother used to read the Vǫluspá to him and Loki when they were younger.

As they approach the base, Thor makes a inquiry about female Winter Soldier's and if they were as strong and skilled as Valkyries, in which Sam and Steve both imply that (Y/n) is most likely on par with one since she was able to embed a knife into the strongest glass in the world. After a while, the three arrive to the base, and though Steve tries to plan out a strategic entrance, Thor immediately begins to assault the base.

Steve makes a note that the place seems deadly silent and completely barren, no furniture or desks in sight. Thor comes back with a similar report, telling Steve that the base is completely abandoned, and Sam makes a comment that it seems as though HYDRA already seems to know where the Avengers will be looking. He inquires about a possible infiltration in Wakanda, and Thor tells Steve that they should get to Wakanda as soon as possible. Thor and Steve leaving using the Bifrost Bridge while Sam stays behind to take the quinjet home. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

Vǫluspá: "The Prophecy of the Völva [Seeress]". It is one of the most famous and important poems in the Poetic Edda, which is a collection of Old Norse mythos and poems. The Vǫluspá goes into detail about Norse Mythology, including the creation of the world, its current state, and its ultimate destruction during Ragnarök—the apocalyptic battle of the gods—and subsequent rebirth.

Valkyrie: [Valkyrja] "Chooser of the Slain": A warrior faction of Norse Mythology often depicted as powerful Asgardian women who serve Odin. Their main role is to choose which Asgardian warrior will live or die in battle. They also guide the fallen warrior to Valhalla, Odin's great hall in Asgard where the warriors [known as Einherjar] prepare for Ragnarök

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane

#bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 11 hours ago

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One was enough- Diary, Ring, Locket, Cup, and Diadem! Tom Riddle x Reader -Smutshot

Request from @sweatymusictree; Can I request of Tom riddle x reader? Where his horcruxes turn to human when reader did something to make them human. This could be a fluff, smut, chaotic.

A mix of smut, humor, and fluff…I guess. Enjoyyy, age gaps included, I guess starts in chamber of secrets, starts same age as diary Tom.

warning; threesomes, foursomes, and fivesoms(kinda), lotta smut, breeding kink, Tom Riddle X4

Edit; it turned into angst/an actual story…idk, guess I can’t write without plot.

How she discovered it she really didn’t know, but she got her hands on a diary in her 6th year, and upon opening it, discovered it was so much more than a diary. She learned it held the trapped soul of a boy named Tom Riddle from the 40’s, so she helped release him-only to learn he…partially lied to her, but he liked her, so he ‘kept’ her.

“Could you let me go? I have to go to breakfast,” (y/n) murmured from within Tom’s arms, which were tight around her as he forced her to sleep in with him, he had no obligations-though he made her bring extra work back to her room so he could study-only having memories to the end of his 6th year, meaning he knew nothing beyond that.

“No,” Tom muttered against her neck, laying kisses on her warm skin-the blankets heavy on both of them, a tempting feeling to stay in bed with her boyfriend. Yes. He was her boyfriend-she didn’t decide it he did.

“But I’m hungryyy,” (y/n) groaned, trying to roll out of his arms but he held her tightly, keeping her still as he pressed kisses down her neck and arm, fingers hooking into her shorts. “Tom-“ she huffed, kicking at him and he pinned her leg, sucking the skin of her thigh into his mouth.

“I’m hungry too,” he chuckled, pulling her shorts and underwear down, his tongue connecting with her cunt that was still a bit swollen from the last night. She groaned, letting her thighs fall open as he licked at her, his tongue soft and warm against her-smoothing over her clit.

He brought her to a slow-burning orgasm that left her breathless, panting quietly as he crawled back up her body, leaning over her with his elbows resting next to her head. She shoved him off and he landed on the floor. “ow.” He grumbled, looking right at her as she stepped over him-still half naked-and went to get dressed and brush her teeth.

He grabbed her ankle as she stepped over him again and she huffed, looking down at him as he smirked up at her, blanket curled around his waist-topless. “Can I go?” She drawled, and Tom hummed in fake thought, and then shook his head. (y/n) groaned, throwing her hands up and smacking them against her thighs. “I’ll grab you pumpkin pasties.”

Tom let her ankle go.

After graduating from Hogwarts, she found a ring in an old shack, Tom recognized, or well had, the magic that kept it protected, and he was able to grab it for her and uncurse it. She could feel the same magic in the ring that she felt in the diary so-she freed the soul within and was met with an older Tom Riddle, around 20 years old.

He raised his brow at her, and then blinked as he was met with the, now 17, year-old version of himself-from the dairy Horcrux. “What?” he muttered and Diary Tom pointed at (y/n).

“She knows how to release the souls and give us bodies, don’t ask me I have no clue-but she’s mine-no touch.” Diary Tom said, grabbing (y/n) to hold her close as she sighed after Ring Tom had given her several lookovers, clearly interested in the random girl who could reverse horcrux creations and give them bodies with ease.

Ring Tom smirked, tilting his head. “oh, I wouldn't be so sure, after all-we’re the same person, just in different stages of life…I’ll teach you extra dark arts if you share.”

“Deal.”

(y/n) face palmed.

Her face was hot and her body felt feverish as Ring lapped at her cunt, smooth tongue against her clit and Diary kissed her, smoothing his hand over her belly and fondling her breasts, pinching her breasts. “She’s fucking delicious,” Ring groaned, spreading her thighs further to better bury his face between them.

“I’m gonna-“ (y/n) croaked, feeling her 3rd orgasm burning low in her belly, her shaking thighs squeezing Ring’s head as she arched, Diary scraping his teeth on her neck as she felt it roll over her, draining her of all energy as Ring kept smoothing his tongue through her folds. “okay okay-enough-“ (y/n) groaned, rolling her body over, Ring’s hair getting all tussled as her thigh brushed over his head.

Ring hummed, resting his chin on the back of her thigh, him and Diary(which she had started to mentally refer them as such since she couldn’t both call them Tom, it would get way too confusing too quickly.), glancing at each other before Diary tugged her into his arms-the two having known each other the longest and being the same age.

(y/n) huffed, letting him cuddle her, her thighs being massaged by ring. “This is my life now isn’t it? Being hoarded by split souls of the same guy.” She muttered to herself and Ring chuckled, Diary smirking against her neck.

“You did this to yourself, my dear. I hardly had to talk you into giving me a body; though I’m quite grateful, I much rather be linked to you than drain your life force to gain mine.” (y/n) huffed at Diary's words, ring sitting up a bit.

“Oh, is that how she pulled us out?” Ring asked, tilting his head and (y/n) nodded. “I reversed horcruxed you both, so now both your soul fractures are linked to my life force, I’m now your horcrux-to put it basically.” (y/n) mumbled and Ring smirked, climbing on top of her to suck a hickey into the back of her neck, Diary grunting at the extra weight but not shoving him off.

“Ah, so that was the instant connection I felt, and here I thought you were just attractive.” Ring purred into her ear, and she elbowed his head-just hard enough to make him flinch. “oi.”

“Get off me.” She groaned, she had enough on her hands babysitting diary, and now she had TWO of Tom. At least one of them was older.

Older, in no way meant more mature. They’d gone to Diagon alley to get supplies, food, clothes, and the whole time the Tom’s spent it bickering, (y/n) face palming half the time as they ‘discussed’ the best things for them to get, apparently only four years difference made a huge gap in fashion sense and preferences.

“She’d look good in this.”

“Oh yes.”

They were agreeing on something now? (y/n) thought to herself, turning to look at them, only to see them looking at lingerie, green in color and leaving nothing to the imagination if worn.

“No.” (y/n) said, pointing hard at them and Ring grinned at her, Diary pouting slightly-using his more, baby face, against her. “No.”

Diary huffed, putting the lingerie back and walking after her, Ring glancing back at the fabric-sneaking it into his pocket with no one seeing.

“You did not! You stole it?!” (y/n) yelped when Ring gave it to her when they were back at her apartment, her eyes wide as she held the flimsy green lace.

“I knew you wouldn’t buy it, and we wanted to see you in it.” Ring said with a smug smirk, leaning over her as Diary’s gaze flicked between her and the lingerie, swallowing harshly. “don’t we diary?”

Diary nodded, standing up from the couch, putting his hands on her hips and chin on her shoulder. “yes. Absolutely, I think you’d look stunning darling,” Diary purred, squeezing her hips.

(y/n) let out a long sigh, knowing they wouldn’t drop it until she did what they wanted. “fine. No touching for 10 minutes, you’re both suffering.” She ordered, heading into her bedroom the change, Diary tried to follow but Ring grabbed the back of his shirt-keeping him in the lounge.

When (y/n) emerged, Diary nearly tipped over-his eyes locked onto the way the lingerie hugged her curves, and just barely covered her breasts. “ten. Minutes. No touch.” (y/n) said, sternly pointing at both of them, punishment for stealing the lingerie. Ring and Diary both groaned, eyes following her every move as she went into the kitchen to make a snack.

“Oh, my merlin-look at that ass.” Diary muttered and Ring couldn’t help but just nod in agreement. (y/n)’s cheeks flushed, glaring over her shoulder at him. “Keep comments to yourself!” she snapped, and Diary groaned again, leaning on the dining table and sinking to his knees.

Him and Ring stared at her for the full 10 minutes, Ring keeping count on his watch and when the ten minutes were up-he beelined to (y/n) and scooped her up, (y/n) yelping as she was tossed over a shoulder. “Tom!” she squawked, feeling his hands roughly grip her thighs as he turned on his heel-heading straight for the bedroom with Diary close behind.

She was thrown onto her bed, which wasn’t as comfortable as she would’ve liked-letting out a grunt as Ring climbed on top of her, Diary quickly joining with an eager grin. (y/n) felt her face grow hot as Ring fondled her lace-covered breasts, his tongue slowly trailing from her collarbone to her breasts, Diary reaching between her and Ring to rub her clothed clit, her hips jumping.

Diary chuckled into her ear, resting his head on her shoulder as Ring undid her bra, tossing the lace to the side to take a breast in his mouth, circling his tongue around her hardening nipple.

“Honestly-you two are obsessed.” (y/n) groaned, reaching up to grip the pillows behind her head as Diary’s fingers dipped beneath her panties to rub directly against her clit in small circles.

“You’re our link darling, of course we’re obsessed.” Ring purred, spit connecting his tongue to her breast before he latched back on, his other hand fondling her breast as Diary’s fingers slipped inside her, slowly thrusting and curling his fingers gently, making (y/n) groan and turn her head to the side.

“Now, who gets what end?” Ring purred, sitting up, unzipping his trousers and Diary smirked, laying a wet hot kiss on (y/n)’s neck. “you got the lingerie; you get first pick.” Diary murmured, (y/n) obediently lifting her hips as Ring pulled off her lace panties.

“I know exactly what I want.” Ring groaned, reaching for the bedside drawer to grab a condom, Diary unzipped his trousers as well, moving to rest (y/n)’s head between his legs as Ring wrapped her legs around his waist.

(y/n) let out a low groan, her eyes fluttering as Ring pushed inside her, his hips slotted against hers as the tip of Diary’s cock tapped her lips. She opened her mouth, taking Diary’s cock into her mouth and he let out a groan, his head tipping back as both of them began to thrust into her, Diary slower and gentler while Ring quickly picked up speed and roughness.

Ring roughly gripped her hips, leaning over her as his hips smacked against her butt, sweat beading at his brow while (y/n) writhed and let out muffled groans as Diary tipped her head further back, allowing him deeper into her mouth, and into her throat.

“She’s so fucking warm.” Diary moaned, holding the back of her neck for support as he rolled his hips towards her. Ring groaned in agreement. “and so tight.” Ring said, Diary beginning to pant as he felt himself get close. He was younger, (y/n)’s age, so he didn’t last as long as Ring did.

Diary let out a half-choked moan, spilling himself into (y/n)’s throat, she swallowed around him, and he pulled out of her mouth as he felt it become too much for him, panting heavily as he leaned back, adjusting (y/n)’s head to lay in his lap as Ring continued to pound into her.

(y/n) breathed heavily as she felt Ring fuck her hard and deep-just like he always did, the two were insatiable, especially Ring, who had higher stamina than Diary. She groaned as Ring’s finger swirled her clit, pressing just hard enough to make the pit in her gut grow hotter.

“I’m-!” she gasped out, hips jolting as Ring rolled his hips just right and hit that spot inside her, making her crash. She moaned as her orgasm rolled over her, clenching tight around Ring’s cock and he groaned in turn-releasing inside the condom, pulling out slowly after a minute.

“All ours,” Diary hummed from above her, leaning down to kiss her cheek as Ring massaged her bruising hips. Ring grinned in agreement, watching their girl come down from her high, her body twitching as Diary rubbed her neck and jaw.

Ring had gone out for a walk, Diary sulking at home while (y/n) was at work. Diary being the first made horcrux and the first resurrected-was especially attached to (y/n), since they were also the same age, so any time (y/n) ignored him or went somewhere Diary couldn’t follow-he sulked, much like the teenager/young adult he was.

Ring paused as he passed by a set of apartments, looking up at the solid building. He could sense another apartment inbetween two apartments, hidden by an intricate spell. He also sense something else, another soul fracture.

He held his hand up, summoning his soul fracture to him. It was resistant for a moment, and then came crashing through a spell border, a locket-Slytherin’s locket-landing in his palm, the chain icy cold against his fingers. It was covered in dust.

Why would one of his horcruxes-Slytherin’s locket of all things-be in an abandoned apartment? The apartment of the Black family no less. Ring didn’t dwell on it, pocketing the locket and heading straight back to (y/n)’s apartment, polishing the locket and setting it on the dining table for her to see when she got home.

“What is that?” Diary asked-watching Ring polish the locket. Ring smirked, holding it up in the fluorescent light. “Another horcrux, our mother's locket.” Ring murmured and Diary was up on his feet, gently grasping the locket and taking it from Ring’s hands.

“Slytherin’s locket.” Diary whispered, looking giddy. Ring takes it back and sets it on the table, the two waiting for (y/n) to return, when she does, she takes one look at them and sighs, loudly.

“What happened now?” she drawls, walking further into her apartment, resting her hands on the back of Ring’s chair, he picks up the locket and hands it to her. She can instantly feel the same magic that the Ring and Diary had, and she sighs, letting her head fall back in exasperation. “Another one?!”

Ring shrugged with a smirk, Diary huffing slightly as (y/n) went off to her room to grab what she needed to resurrect this soul fracture. After an hour, there's a new Tom standing in her living room-this one the oldest by far, probably in his mid to late 30’s. He’s…well he’s for sure handsome, age definitely does Tom well.

His red-tinted gaze locks onto her and makes a move to draw his wand(which of course he doesn’t have, Ring and Diary had been sharing a wand that (y/n) had gotten soon after graduating.) but is interrupted by Ring and Diary-Locket quickly shocked being faced by two younger versions of himself.

“Relax, yes, we’re horcruxes as well, I was the ring, he was the diary-you, of course, were the locket, this is (y/n). She somehow knows how to resurrect us and give us bodies by linking our soul fractures to her own. Yes, the connection you feel for her is something we feel too and we’re all sharing her. It’s been fun.” Ring explained as Locket stared at them, and then at (y/n), who was staring right back, her arms crossed.

“Sharing her?” Locket drawls and (y/n) really likes his matured tone, slow and calculated. Diary and Ring nodded, locket pushing past them to study (y/n) up close, his gaze intense. He soon smirked, tilting his head. “I think I can agree with that,” he hummed, Ring and Diary grinning like wolves as (y/n) swallowed harshly.

Three Toms. Dear. Merlin.

She’s on top of Ring, Diary in front of her, and Locket behind her. Ring’s cock was inside her cunt, Locket stretching out her other hole while Diary made out with her, his hands massaging her breasts while Ring thrust up into her with short rolls of his hips, enjoying the way she was extra tight with all the extra attention.

“Mmm, I think you’re ready now,” Locket murmurs, his chest against her back as he leans up against her, cock pressing to her asshole. She let out a croaking moan as his rough hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her away from Diary and towards himself so she’s fully pressed up against him. She can feel every inch of Ring’s cock inside her, and the head of Locket's cock against her backside.

She groans again, clutching Locket’s arms as he pushes inside her, getting past the tight ring and then he’s in, him and Ring inside her at the same time. She feels short for breath, her vision fuzzy as Diary grumbles, being separated from her once again by his older selves. “Give her back.” Diary demands and Locket chuckles, deep and dark and (y/n) shivers, letting out a broken moan as he and Ring begin to thrust into her, one going in as the other pulls out.

“You’ve had her the longest, I’ve just gotten her.” Locket purrs, licking up the shell of (y/n)’s flushed ear and she shivers, hips jolting down towards Ring, he chokes a moan, gripping her hips tightly as Locket has his arms wrapped tight around her-hand around her neck and the other around her ribs.

Diary huffs, watching as his older selves thoroughly make (y/n) putty in their hands, Locket slowly rolling his hips into her while Ring roughly thrusts up, his hands bruising her hips again as she chokes on her breath and moans, her eyes rolled back and shuddering with each double thrust from Locket and Ring.

Diary moves forward, slicking up his hand with saliva and reaching to rub her clit, grinning as (y/n) gasped his(their) name out, her face flushed as her body rocked towards the pleasure. “That’s it, cum for us.” Locket groaned into her ear, scraping his teeth on her neck as his and Ring’s cocks rocked into her, Diary mouthing her breasts and rubbing her clit in quick circles.

(y/n) groaned, cumming hard from the three points of pleasure, feeling it through her whole body, clenching tight around Ring and Locket to where they came with her, filling the condoms with their release. “good girl,” Locket groaned from behind her-her ears ringing harshly in her head.

She was picked up and laid down on her side, Diary quickly gathering her into his arms to cuddle her close-since he had the largest soul fracture-he was always the most affectionate with her. She breathed heavily, leaning back into him, holding his arm as it wrapped around her. “that-was a lot.” She panted out, Diary huffing against her hair while Locket and Ring smirked at her, Locket smoothing his hands over her thighs while Ring admired the marks on her hips and neck.

“I can say, I’d never been much interested in sex, but that was quite-invigorating.” Locket purred and (y/n) huffed, letting Diary tug her further into his arms, glowering at the other two. “I suppose the soul connection she’s done to resurrect us has something to do with that?”

“That’s my theory, as doing so bounds us to her and her to us, soulmates practically.” Ring said, getting up to grab some cloths to clean (y/n) up with as Diary huffs again, he didn’t even get a turn this time and he didn’t want to push (y/n) further, she was already past her limit.

Locket hummed at Ring’s words, smirking. “interesting.”

After Locket gets comfortable in (y/n)s, slowly getting cramped, apartment-he reveals he’s actually the 4th horcrux, as ‘he’ made one more before the locket. Hufflepuffs Cup.

(y/n) doesn’t really want to look for the cup, she already had her hands full with just Diary! Now they wanted her to add another to the mix?? Four Toms?!

“How are you even going to find it? If the locket was hidden away, in a place you never expected, how the hell would you know where the cup is?” (y/n) asked, making dinner with Locket as Ring and Diary sat in the living room, having finished their chores.

“She makes a good point,” Diary hummed, resting his head back on the couch. Ring sighed, Locket pursing his lips slightly. (y/n) did have a point. She’d been slipped the Diary by someone, probably Malfoy or something since all three Toms’ did claim to be close friends with their era of the family, their closest friends actually. Then Diary had found Ring since she’d actually lived in Little Hangleton with her family; so Diary had easily found the ring in the old Gaunt shack, and Locket had been found by Ring by complete accident!

“Maybe we just, don’t look for it, after all, Locket was found by accident, Ring was found by accident, and Diary was just kinda-given to me, I also think on accident.” (y/n) muttered, the Tom’s looking at her as she addressed them by item names, not by their actual names. “look it’s the only way I can keep track of you, one Tom’s enough.” (y/n) said after catching Lockets side-eye.

“So, just-don’t look for a Horcrux and we’ll find one, good, great idea.” Ring drawled, yelping as he was smacked in the face with a wet hand towel, Diary snickering from his safe spot across the couch.

…

Two weeks later, Locket found the bloody cup. He’d been going to Gringotts to see if his bank account was still open, and while traveling through the caverns, he felt the presence of another Horcrux, and he knew it had to be the cup. While the goblins were distracted, he subtly held the shared wand out, and soon the cup was in his hands, ringing in his ears as he pocketed it.

He returned to the apartment, holding up the cup for all to see. Ring’s eyes went wide as (y/n) face palmed, sinking to the floor as Diary snorted from in front of the TV.

“…EVERY TIME?!” Ring bellowed as Locket handed the cup to (y/n) who had half a thought to throw it across the room, but didn’t, groaning to herself and standing, heading to her room. “every time we DON’T look for one, we just-find it?! We did not hide these well at all the fuck?”

Locket only shrugged, when he’d split himself into the locket-he’d kept all the Horcruxes on him, except his diary, which he’d given to abraxas for safe keeping.

Hufflepuffs Cup soul fracture was, in age, between Locket and Ring, so he was around 24-25, and just like locket-tried to draw his wand at her(again, which he didn’t have) to attack-considering everything it wasn’t the most unlocgical act-but Locket and Ring quickly talked him down, telling him the situation.

And hour later, she was on her bed, legs tight around Cup’s head as Diary cradled her in his lap, Ring and Locket on either side of her. “every time-“ (y/n) groaned, her hips jumping as Cup’s tongue smoothed over her clit, swirling it and then thrusting his tongue into her cunt.

“must be some sort of bond-sealing thing,” Locket chuckled, pulling away from her breast, spit connecting his lips to her nipple. Ring hummed, nodding slightly. “that makes the most sense.” He murmured, rolling (y/n)’s nipple between his fingers as Cup continued to smooth his tongue over her clit, making her jump again.

(y/n) just groaned in response, her face flushed as she clung to Diary’s pants, her head pressed against his stomach. She hated how it felt so good, to be surrounded by the four Tom’s, one eating her out, two playing with her boobs, and the very first-Diary-always grounding her, holding her the gentlest.

“Why does she taste so good?” Cup asked, his face flushed and he almost seemed drunk as he went right back between her thighs, his teeth grazing against her clit-making her jump and whine.

“Must be the soul connection, makes everything about her, delectable.” Locket purred, leaning down to kiss her, tongue intertwining with hers as she groaned, legs trembling as she felt her orgasm approach, the warm pit in her gut tightening.

She moaned against Locket’s lips, hips jumping and her legs closed around Cup’s head as she felt it crash over her, body jolting as she came on Cup’s tongue. He groaned, licking up every drop of her arousal, clinging tight to her thighs. He breathed heavily as he came up, lips slick and flushed.

“I wanna fuck her,” he said breathlessly and a moment later her thighs were being spread open again and Cup was given a condom. He pushed inside her and (y/n) groaned, panting heavily as he began to thrust into her, hips smacking against her thighs as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, allowing him deeper.

Diary held her closer, kissing her as Locket and Ring continued to fondle her breasts, Ring circling her swollen clit with his fingers as Cup continued to rut into her, panting heavily.

“Fuck.” Cup groaned, clenching his jaw tightly as he climaxed, slumping back. (y/n) huffed, panting heavily, her brow furrowed. She didn’t get to cum. Diary could tell and quickly grabbed her-scooting her back into his lap before Locket or Ring could grab her. “Mine.” Diary hissed, aimed at Ring and Locket but nonetheless making (y/n) shiver.

“Sh-“ (y/n) moaned as his talented fingers found her clit, circling it in the exact way she liked, his other hand slipping down further to slip inside her, finding her g-spot and massaging it. “Tom,” she breathed out, resting her head back against his shoulder, he chuckled, kissing her jaw and neck as he thrust his fingers into her, circling her clit just the way she liked-making quick work of her. “oh~!”

She felt her orgasm roll over her again and she trembled, holding tight to Diary’s knees as he kept fingering her through it under she pulled away. “I’m done-no more-“ she panted, smacking Ring’s hands away when he went to grab at her. “I mean it, I’m done. Three of you was enough,” she muttered, wobbling to her feet and leaving her room to take a shower.

“Perhaps, if we find any more horcruxes, we keep them in there for a while before giving it to her.” Diary said, glancing at Locket and Ring, who were staring hard at the bathroom door.

“That might be the best course of action,” Locket murmured, looking at Diary and he sighed-getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom. “Just me,” Diary said as (y/n) made a sound of objection to her shower being interrupted. “you know, you don’t have to indulge our every whim dear, you can say no to us.”

Tom said softly, leaning against the sink as (y/n) sighed, moving to sit down on the bathtub floor. “It just feels like that’s all you guys want from me.” (y/n) murmured, resting her head on her arms. Tom frowned, pulling back the curtain slightly, his brow furrowing tighter when he saw her on the floor. He got in behind her, not caring about his clothes getting wet, wrapping his arms around her.

“I know it feels that way, but we all care about you, I…apologize we all have a tough time showing it, none of us are exactly right in the brain. But we’ll all back off for while. Promise, no touching you till you say you’re ready again.” Tom said gently and (y/n) let out a soft hum, resting back against him, closing her eyes.

“Thanks…why are you the only one who actually comforts me?” (y/n) muttered and Tom shrugged. “Possibly because I have the biggest soul fracture of all the Hocruxes, being the first so I have half a soul while the rest are smaller fractures, so I have more…capability to realize when you need comfort.” Tom offered and (y/n) shrugged, it made sense.

“Are you feeling comforted?” Tom asked and (y/n) laughed gently, nodding, resting her head on his arm.

“Yeah, thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome darling.”

Two and a half years passed, the four Toms got comfortable living with one another, it was still strange for them, being around themselves-at points of their lives where they split their soul, but they got along easily enough and helped around the house that Locket helped buy.

Yep. House, (y/n) bought and moved into a whole house with four Tom Riddle’s, the realter was a bit confused-but (y/n) explained they were all family, Diary was her boyfriend, Ring was his brother-and Locket and cup were their uncles.

Still an odd dynamic but easier to explain that ‘oh these are all my lovers who are all the same person just soul fractures, and they’re bound to me for eternity :D’

Yeah, weird family dynamic was easier.

Just before summer, at the end of spring, all four Tom’s felt something shift within their souls, all four felt as if they’d had some sort of heart attack, Diary tumbling to the floor from the stairs as Locket collapsed in the kitchen, Ring and Cup both blacked out on the couch; all from the sheer pain they felt.

It felt like they were being reborn, painfully and slowly, bones being broken and realigned, blood vessels being stitched together, muscles tightening and straining to hold up their weights.

Diary was the first to recover, gasping for breath on the floor, twitching in agony. “He’s resurrected himself,” he groaned, wobbling to get onto his feet, catching himself on the couch. The others knew who Diary was talking about. Voldemort, essentially the ‘core’ version of them, had gotten someone to resurrect him after so many years.

“We have to tell (y/n), and find the last Horcrux.” Locket groaned, getting up from the kitchen floor, woozy and unstable. “How did you know there's only one more?” Diary asked, flopping down on the couch between Ring and Cup.

“Because I’d planned to make one out of the four founders items, the cup, the locket, the diadem, and the sword; I have a feeling he never got the sword-only a Gryffindor can, but I had located the diadem by the time I made-well-myself. I believe i wanted to hide it in Hogwarts as well.” Locket groaned, sitting down in the love seat, the three living Hocruxes listening intently.

“So, we find it, then what? (y/n) bonds with that one too? Then what?” Cup asked with a groan, rubbing his face. What was the plan? Did they want to foil Voldemort’s plans? Why? After they were Voldemort, wasn’t what he wanted, what they wanted?

“I think our goals have changed, haven’t they?” Cup murmured, the others glancing at him, and then around the apartment.

Yeah. They have.

“I just don’t see why I have to sneak into Hogwarts! I mean-it’s suspicious!” (y/n) said as Diary helped her put her coat on. “what am I supposed to even say to Dumbledore? Oh, hi Professor! I’ve resurrected the younger versions of the most dangerous dark wizard and now they want me to do it again to prevent him from using another Horcrux? I doubt he even knows what a Horcrux is!” (y/n) said, crossing her arms as the four Toms’ winced, realizing she was right.

How was she supposed to get into the castle? Much less try to get to wherever the Horcrux was hidden.

“Perhaps this time it would be prudent to wait and listen, see when to strike.” Locket murmured and (y/n) sighed, grabbing her keys.

“You guys can brainstorm, I’m going to get food.” She muttered, Diary grabbing his coat and following her out of the door.

It’s two years later that she gets the excusable chance to go to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been murdered, by death eaters, the funeral was held at the isle in the middle of the black lake. (y/n) had arrived dressed in all black, a bouquet of colorful flowers in hand.

She set the vibrant flowers on his grave, closing her eyes as she rested her hand on the cold stone. “Goodbye professor, thank you.” she whispered, stepping back and sitting with the crowd, quietly listening as the funeral went on.

As soon as everyone was up and about-blending into one big crowd, she slipped away into the castle, quickly going through the empty corridors that seemed colder than ever before.

Finally, she arrived at the room of requirement, passing it three times before the door appeared. She pushed inside, greeted by a very large room that held…so many things. She went further into the room, looking all over for the Horcrux. Locket said it would be the diadem, a small silver tiara with sapphires.

She passed by several mirrors and knickknacks, furniture and cloaks. She spent about an hour looking, even shifting through things. He wouldn’t hide it too much-so he could find it again if need be, that’s what locket said. She looked around again, finding a flat velvet box that had snake latch on it.

She snatched the velvet box, opening it carefully. There it was, Ravenclaws Diadem-and possibly the final Horcrux. She took it out of the box, putting the box back down, and then set the horcrux on the floor, grabbing what she needed from her bag.

She’d have to do it here, feeling it was risky to bring the diadem home.

She took out her wand, a soul connection potion(very risky to make, but she’d made it so many times now that it was as easy as breathing), and cut her hand. She smeared her blood onto the diadem, and swallowed half of the potion, the rest being poured onto the diadem.

The jewel at the crest cracked and (y/n) was pushed back by a wave of magic. She held her ground, she knew the routine. From a swirl of dark magic-green in color-came forth the oldest Tom she’d seen, maybe mid to late 40s. silver fox if you will.

Tom’s scarlet eyes locked onto hers, he was confused-just as all the others(except diary) were, he looked around, recognizing the room. “how did you do this?” he asked, his voice slightly rough, but even and mature.

(y/n) took a deep breath, rubbing her face. “Okay, so-In my 6th year, which was-four years ago now? I was accidentally given the diary horcrux” Tom tensed at that but (y/n) continued regardless. “by Lucius Malfoy, I grew connected with that horcrux, yes I know what you guys are-I’ll get that in a second-and so I resurrected him, connecting his life to mine so I became his Horcrux really. Anyway, later we found the ring, I also resurrected him-so then there were two of you, Diary and Ring, Ring found Locket-I also resurrected him, and then Locket found the cup, who I also resurrected. Anyway, a year ago Voldemort formally resurrected himself as the dark lord and the others all told me to come get you so Voldemort couldn’t use you guys.”

(y/n) went quiet, looking at Diadem Tom, who was staring at her as if she was insane, which-honestly, by now she probably was. “Any questions?”

“…You linked yourself to, not just one, but” he counted on his fingers. “five Horcruxes? Are you okay? As in mentally?” Diadem Tom asked, his eyes narrowed at her and (y/n) shrugged.

“I dunno, probably not by now considering I’ve lived with four other versions of you for four years now, my sanity went down the drain when I met Diary Tom, anyway we should go. Dumbledore's funeral just ended and I bet there will be people in the halls any moment now.” (y/n) said, grabbing his hand and Diadem Tom jolted, stumbling after her as she tugged him out of the room of requirement-quickly finding a working floo fireplace and heading straight back home.

Diadem Tom was-quite…shocked to see four other versions of himself at the house, the youngest, Diary-who was the same age as (y/n), then Ring the 2nd youngest, Cup, Locket, and then himself.

Diadem took the longest to do the, hem, bonding session between him and (y/n), he was the oldest by far and had far more control over his desires, hardly even recognizing the feeling until the others told him about what really ‘sealed the deal’ for the link between them and (y/n).

“Really? Sex? How barbarian.” Diadem drawled, sipping at some tea while the youngest, Cup and Ring, blushed a bit-they were the quickest of the four, now five, to seal things between themselves and (y/n), Diary hardly even waited for her to explain what she’d done to resurrect him, he’d just launched himself at her with feral need.

“yeah, we don’t know why it’s that way either, but each time she’s linked one of our fractures souls to her, we just feel…intense towards her, we supposed it made us soulmates to her.” Locket said, gaze drifting over to (y/n) who was busying herself doing her laundry,

“Soulmates.” Diadem murmured, circling the rim of his teacup with the pads of his fingers, gaze locked onto (y/n). she was about 20-25 years younger than him, since he was in his mid to late 40s, but she was already lovers with his younger selves.

He let a slow smirk grow on his face. Perhaps it was time to show the younger versions of him how it’s done?

Diary was fully pouting, glaring at Diadem as he slowly rolled his hips into (y/n), who was practically drooling into the sheets of her bed, her fists clenched tight to the fabric as she moaned weakly, body jolting with each thrust of Diadem’s hips. “Atta girl,” Diadem purred with a smirk, his grin growing feeling her clench tight around him.

He looked up at his younger selves, who had all been…not allowed to be a part of the bonding this time, Diary was the grumpiest, glaring at him while he fucked (y/n) slow and deep. “See how jealous they are darling?” Didem purred above her, one hand pinning her down by her neck as his other hand held her hips still, hearing her moan and whimper with each shallow roll of his hips. “jealous of how well I fuck you? make you feel better than any of them ever had?”

(y/n) groaned, peering at Diary who sat directly across from her, both jealous and protective of her, hating the way his older self was actually cucking him. Well, and the others, but Diary didn’t care about them, only himself and (y/n). she gasped as Diadem slammed into her to regain her attention and she slumped forward, letting out a croaking moan as he did it twice more.

She reached out with her free hand towards Diary and he was quick to latch onto her, kneeling in front of her and she wrapped her arms around him-keeping him close. Didem huffed a bit but didn’t do anything against it, having quickly learned that (y/n) was the one who called the shots, she was their tether, what she wanted was most important.

It went against their core values-that they were the most important, but soul linking did something to them, and he could already feel his values shifting, even after only knowing (y/n) for a day.

(y/n) turned her head towards Diary, pressing her lips to his and he groaned, turning it into a heated opened mouthed kiss as he pressed back into her, one of his hands grazing down her stomach till he reached her clit, smoothing over it gently with the pads of his fingers as (y/n) moaned into his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair.

Diadem moved both his hands to (y/n)’s hips, rutting harder into her as he felt his orgasm approach, groaning under his breath as (y/n) moaned into Diary’s mouth, gasping and panting as she felt her orgasm tighten in her gut. “ah-Tom!” she moaned, feeling it crash over her and all the Tom’s groaned as she moaned their name, Diadem thrusting twice more into her as he came.

He smoothed his hands over her hips as he pulled out and she slumped towards Diary, breathing heavily as Diary gathered her into his arms, pulling her closer, peppering kisses along her jaw and corners of her lips. “Close to her is he?” Diadem hummed, his scarlet gaze locked onto his youngest Horcrux and (y/n).

Ring, Cup, and Locket nodded. “He’s the first she resurrected, and they’re closest in age; plus he has the largest soul fracture,” Locket said, reaching out to smooth his hand over (y/n)’s thigh but Diary smacked it away, glaring at him. “Ah-“ Locket snickered, smirking at Diary as he held (y/n) closer. “clingy today?”

“Fuck off. I never get to have her to myself-Actually! I haven’t had her to myself since we found Ring.” Diary snarked, having picked up (y/n)’s habit of calling the other Toms by their Horcrux item. Ring balked at him, Diary sticking out his tongue childishly, holding (y/n) closer to him.

“No shouting please,” (y/n) grumbled from within his hold, Diary looking at her and apologizing quietly before glaring at the Horcruxes again. Ring rolled his eyes and Diadem chuckled, Cup sighing while Locket smirked.

“Clingy~” Locket said with a slight sing-song tone-yelping as he was smacked in the face with a pillow going at Mach speed.

Hardly a year later, (y/n) was racing through the corridors of a battle-blasted Hogwarts, panting heavily and limping-blood staining her clothes and skin. She’d been paying attention to the secret radio channel, Potter watch, and the hosts had called for action at Hogwarts-a final battle of sorts.

The war would end today, and either Voldemort would win, or Potter would.

(y/n) was fighting for Potter, dodging and weaving deadly spells sent at her by Death eaters. She hadn’t told her Tom’s that she’d gone to fight, they didn’t even know this was happening today-she never included them when listening to the Potter watch channel.

She slid through the corridor, ending up at the room of requirement’s corridor-just as Harry, Hermione, and Ron flew through the doors with fire right behind them. The castle's magic closed the doors of the enchanted room before the fire could reach them. Malfoy and one of his two goons had been with him and they ran for it as soon as they could.

“Why wasn’t it there!” Harry gasped as he got to his feet, dropping the broom from his grip, running his hands through his hair in a panic. “there was supposed to be one in there! We’ve found-none of them! No Horcruxes!”

(y/n) froze, swallowing hard. They were hunting Horcruxes, to take down Voldemort-since with them, his soul was tethered to the land of the living, unable to be claimed by the Grim Reaper.

She’d found all the Horcruxes, she’d resurrected all of them.

She’d accidentally fucked up the plan to kill the dark lord, starting with the diary.

She stepped forward, wanting to help but unsure how, Harry’s eyes instantly snapped to her-wincing and holding his head. Then a look of realization came to his face, eyes widening. “you’re linked to him, somehow.” He murmured, standing up and rushing over to her-getting in her face. “Why are you linked to him!?”

(y/n) knew she had to tell the truth, there was no time to lie, or excuse herself. “I got his first Horcrux in my sixth year, your 2nd, it was a diary. We…grew close, he…convinced me to link his soul to mine, to resurrect him. Then it spiraled from there. He made several, the diary, a ring, a cup, a locket, and the diadem-I got the diadem last year-at Dumbledore’s funeral. But…they’re all alive, so they’re not horcruxes anymore, I guess. I’m more their Horcrux than anything else.”

(y/n) said, trying to explain everything from the last four-five years without it sounding absolutely insane. Harry seemed both disgusted and shocked. “you…linked yourself to him? Willingly? Multiple times? You put multiple versions of him into the world?” Harry yelled at her, and she stepped back, unsure of how to defend herself.

“Yell at her like that again and I'll kill you myself.” A familiar voice snarled behind her, and she whirled around, seeing Diary Tom-by himself, shared wand in hand and he stalked towards her, looking quite battle-worn himself.

“Tom?” (y/n) asked quietly as he moved to stand beside her, glaring at Harry who glared right back-recognizing Tom from the memories he’d seen of the past.

“what in the hell are you doing here? Helping yourself win the war?” Harry snarled-his wand drawn to Tom’s neck-Hermione and Ron following his lead-not sure what was happening but trusting their friend.

“My goals have changed, I don’t care about what he wants, not for a long time.” Tom said, staring right back at Harry. “I’m Tom Riddle, not Voldemort.”

Tom saying that made both (y/n) and Harry look at him, almost…astonished. “Then…why are you here?” Harry asked, drawing his wand back a bit. Tom turned to (y/n) smiling weakly.

“To protect what's important to me.” He said softly and (y/n) let out a soft coo, feeling a little teary-eyed, glancing around for the others.

“Softie…where…where’s the others?” (y/n) asked and Tom sighed, swallowing thickly.

“We listened in on that challenge you listen you every day…we knew a battle with…us was going down. We know he has to fall so…we found a way to combine our soul fractures again, since I had the largest one…it’s just me again.” Tom said, (y/n) now noticing the ring on his hand, and the locket around his neck. The cup and Diadem left at home.

“They’re gone?” she whispered, and Tom nodded, swallowing thickly again.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but you didn’t tell us you were coming here, so we didn’t get the chance to tell you what we decided to do.” Tom murmured and she couldn’t exactly tell him off for that, since he was right. She nodded shallowly and Harry huffed, not pocketing his wand but lowering it completely.

“Okay…what do we do to defeat Voldemort then?” Harry asked and Tom’s brows furrowed.

“I could possibly absorb his soul fracture, but he might have made more Horcruxes, I planned to make 7, the magic number. So, two more possibly…I’m unsure.” Tom muttered and Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair, showing his scar. Tom’s eyes locked onto it.

“How did you get that scar?” Tom asked, his eyes suddenly intense and Harry groaned.

“You would know! You caused it!”

“I. didn’t. How did you get that scar.” Tom demanded, getting in Harry’s face-grabbing him, causing pain for Harry and Tom quickly let go. “You. You’re a Horcrux.” Tom breathed out, his eyes going wide with quick realization. Harry glared at him, rubbing his forehead.

(y/n) moved to stand with Hermione and Ron, watching Tom and Harry argued with each other-Tom trying to convince Harry that yes, he’s indeed a Horcrux (Hermione whispered to her that she already figured that out, Harry had an odd connection with Voldemort since she met him), and Harry argued that he wasn’t, if only because he didn’t want to be.

A blast that rocked the castle cut the argument short and Tom thrust a golden glowing potion into Harry’s hand. “Drink that, I can absorb your soul fragment, one less Horcrux to kill.” Harry glared but drank the potion, coughing as Tom then put his hand to Harry’s scar and blood poured from the new wound, Harry screamed as Tom pulled out a small shard of Voldemort’s, Tom’s, soul-it was nearly black in color but turned whiteish green as Tom absorbed it.

“That bloody hurt!” Harry hissed and Hermione rushed to heal the new open wound with Dittany, Tom sighing and turning to (y/n).

“Let’s end this, and go back home.” He murmured and she nodded. They intertwined hands, working together to help fight against Voldemort’s death eaters, blasting spells and protecting each other fiercely.

Reports of Tom must’ve got back to Voldemort; because he soon made an appearance, Tom full-on paling at the sight of the snake-like dark lord in the Hogwarts courtyard.

“Oh, merlin is that what seven Horcruxes turned me into?” he croaked, hiding (y/n) behind him as Voldemort’s nostril’s flared in anger. “yeesh.”

Voldemort’s thin lips curled with anger, showing his fangs. “an imposter dares to insult me?” he snarled, more hissed, drawing the elder wand in his hands. Tom’s eyes flicked to it before focusing back on his older self.

“Not an imposter. I’m the diary.” Tom drawled, Voldemort froze, scarlet eyes widening. “the rest were resurrected too, and then combined. I’m the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, and the diadem.” And the scar, but Voldemort didn’t know about that, so Tom didn’t say it. “and now, I need your fragment.”

Voldemort’s nostrils flared again, and he drew his wand-Tom pushed (y/n) back and drew his wand as well-magic met magic, blasts of spells and curses flying about the courtyard as Tom faced off with Voldemort. Both felt resistance, fighting one another-being the same soul.

In the background Harry went after the snake with Ron and Hermione, having figured out it was a horcrux due to Tom sensing the soul fragment within it.

Voldemort fought viciously, sending deadly curses and highly damaging spells, trying to wipe this-imposter-from the face of the earth. Tom fought just as hard, his teeth clenched tightly as he danced between the curses, sending them right back at the dark lord-determined to be the only ‘Tom Riddle’ in the world again.

Voldemort suddenly paused, pain clear on his face and Tom spared a glance to see that the snake had been beheaded by a chubby-faced boy with the sword of Gryffindor-with the distraction Tom launched himself forward, slamming his hands into Voldemort’s face-forcing the potion down his throat. “die.” Tom hissed in parseltongue, absorbing the very small soul fracture of Voldemort's soul into himself, the black piece turning grey as Tom took it.

Voldemort-without a soul-collapsed to the ground, eyes empty and lifeless.

Tom took a heaving breath, stumbling back from the body, turning to see the chaos of battle slowly settle, death eaters cowering after realizing their leader was dead, celebration from those who had fought against Voldemort.

And (y/n), still there, watching him, waiting for him. He smiled weakly, grabbing the elder wand from the dead man’s hand and walking over to her. “it’s over,” he murmured and (y/n) wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder and he held her just as tightly, sighing softly as he inhaled her scent.

He gave the elder wand to Harry, took (y/n)’s hand, and they went home.

The house felt empty without them, (y/n) realized. The house she’d bought with the help of Locket had been for six people, and now there were only two of them, her and Tom. “Is it strange I miss them?” she asked quietly while they made dinner one night, two months after Voldemort had been defeated.

Tom paused while cooking the rice, glancing over at her, before shaking his head. “it’s not, you were connected to all of us, not just by feeling but by your very soul, it’s…believable that it feels like somethings missing now.” Tom said softly, turning off the heat to comfort (y/n), who leaned into him. “they’re still here, just…it’s all me now.”

(y/n) sighed, tilting her head up to kiss his jaw and he smiled softly, turning his head to kiss her properly, cupping her jaw with his hand. “I did get all their memories, so I have different perspectives of the last five years, and the years before they were split into their items,” Tom murmured as they pulled away slightly, rubbing his thumb over her cheek.

“Wow…oh does that mean uh, you gained their…experience as well?” (y/n) asked shyly, blushing, and Tom grinned, leaning down and scooping her up, wrapping his arms around her thighs-turning off the stove before heading right to the bedroom.

(y/n) huffed as she was tossed onto her bed, looking up at Tom as he crawled over her, smirking like the devil. He leaned down-she met him halfway-their lips connecting in a soft slow kiss, his hand drawing down her body to undo her shirt as their tongues met.

“Still so delicious,” Tom hummed against her lips, moving to pepper his lips sideways to her ear, then down to her jaw, then her neck, licking and sucking at her skin, leaving small marks.

(y/n) moaned softly, her body arching to help him get her shirt off, then her bra, his warm hands smoothing over her breasts, his mouth joining them. She moaned again as his tongue swirled around her nipple, the other being tweaked by his fingers and then given the same attention with his tongue. “Is this okay?” Tom asked against just below her breasts, she heaved and nodded, her head falling back as his lips went lower, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down with the help of her lifting her hips.

She let out a soft sigh as his hair brushed against her stomach as he kissed her lower stomach, fingers hooking under her panties and drawing them down, kissing the inside of her thighs before his tongue met her clit. “oh,” she whined, forcing her legs to stay apart as his hands held her hips, his tongue pressing hard to her clit, his fingers joining and pushing inside her, slowly thrusting into her and curling-making her heave for breath and gasp his name.

“I used to hate my name, but I love the way it sounds when you say it.” Tom murmured when he’d pulled away from her for a moment before diving back in like a man starved, moaning into her cunt as her arousal coated his tongue.

“Tom,” she moaned again, fingers curling into his hair as her knee hooked over his shoulder, bringing him impossibly closer. He groaned and pressed his tongue harder on her clit, adding a third finger to give her more pleasure.

“I’m gonna-“ she groaned, she could very much tell all the horcrux's knowledge of her and how she worked had combined into one for Tom, because he was taking her apart so quickly it was almost frightening, but it felt so good. “Tom!”

He groaned, pressing his fingers into her sweet spots as he fluttered his tongue against her clit, smirking as she came, body trembling as she gasped his name, curling forward to clutch at his head. “fuck-Tom!”

He pulled away when she tugged his head away from her, “too much-“ she choked out, breathing heavily as he licked his lips and chin, and then sucked on his fingers, groaning at the taste of her. She was blushing furiously as he undid his shirt and pants, his boxers joining the rest of the clothes.

Tom reached to grab a condom from the drawer but (y/n)’s hand on his shoulder stopped, he glanced back at her, confused. She gave him a long, almost begging, look and he blinked. “do you not want to?” he asked, thinking she didn’t want to go full on today but she shook her head, closing the drawer with her foot, bringing him closer to her, her hand ghosting over his uncovered cock-that was hard and leaking.

He groaned at the touch, his brows furrowing as she stroked him. “I want…I don’t want the condom, I want to feel you.” she whispered, looking up at him. His jaw clenched and he kissed her hard, pushing her back down on the bed, one hand around her throat-like Diadem always did-keeping her pinned as her legs locked around his waist.

He thrust his hips to smooth his cock over her cunt, the tip rutting against her swollen clit. “Don’t tease,” she whined, and Tom chuckled, angling his hips and slowly pushing inside her, jaw dropping open at the pure heat he felt. “Oh fuck.” Tom groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her clench around him, wet, tight, and hot.

“Shit, don’t know how long I’ll last-fuck.” Tom cursed, she felt so damn good. He never wanted to use a condom again. “can-can I come inside you?” he asked, shallowly thrusting his hips and (y/n)’s eyes fluttered, nodding.

“yes-yes.” She moaned, leaning into him as he pressed against her completely, hand still around her throat as he began to fuck her, slow and deep at first-the two just blissfully enjoying the feeling of absolutely no barriers. They knew the dangers of unprotected sex but, perhaps it was time to start a new chapter for them.

And repopulate the house.

His hand pushed a little tighter on her throat and she moaned, their lips meeting as he began to thrust faster into her, rougher, his other hand gripping her inner thigh tightly as he rut into her, groaning and huffing as his hips snapped against her thighs.

“So fucking good, I can never get enough of you.” Tom groaned and (y/n) gasped into his mouth, breathing heavily as his cock kept hitting that good spot inside her, he angled his hips a bit and hit it even better-making her jolt and let out a whine, her hands clawing down his back.

“So-so good-ah!” (y/n) moaned, biting his shoulder to muffle her moans and he pushed his grip on her throat down-away from his shoulder. “No no. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.” Tom growled and (y/n) whined at the sound of it, her legs trembling as she felt her climax grow hotter and hotter in her gut, Tom rutting into her hard and fast, echoing in her ears.

She came first when his other hand that wasn’t holding her throat circled her clit-her body arched and she tensed up, silent as she felt the band snap within her. Tom followed close behind, groaning heavily as he thrust twice more, slotting his hips directly against her, as deep as he could be, cumming inside.

“Fuck,” Tom said, lightly laughing as he slumped on top of her, wrapping his arms around her as they both heaved for breath. “never using a condom again,” he grumbled and (y/n) couldn't argue, it felt too good to use it again, she’d just get birth control.

(y/n) carefully polished the golden Hufflepuff cup, setting it gently back onto the well-tended shelf. The Horcruxes sat up on a shelf, polished to shine beautifully and the shelf they sat on was decorated with small gifts, like shimmery rocks and dried flowers.

She grabbed the diadem next, cleaning it of dust and making sure the silver metal shone before putting it back on the shelf, feeling familiar arms wrap around her, a chin resting on her shoulder. “Evening Mrs. Riddle,” Tom murmured into her shoulder and her heart fluttered, spinning the Gaunt ring around her ring finger as she turned her head into him.

“Evening Mr. Riddle,” she said softly, smiling as he kissed her cheek. “is dinner ready?”

“Yes, your favorite,” Tom said, taking her hands and drawing her away from the shelf, (y/n) glancing back at the Cup, Diadem, and Locket for a moment before following Tom into the kitchen, the Ring warm between their intertwined hands.

-end-

This got out of my hands lol, the plot just-appeared-It was meant to be just like smut with very little plot with fluff and like-funny? But it turned into plot…sorry for ‘killing’ four of the five Tom’s off, but they’re not technically dead! Technically, they just don’t got separate souls anymore….yeah this just turned into a whole thing lol.

Uh, hope you enjoyed??

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #fluff fic #diary tom riddle #smut fic #diadem Tom Riddle #Ring Tom Riddle #Locket Tom Riddle #Cup Tom Riddle #horcrux Tom Riddle #angst #voldemort #horcrux

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gingerteafairy · 2 days ago

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🅂 🄼 🄰 🅁 🅃 (ᴋʏʟᴇ ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

Kyle learns to write through a fun alphabet game. tags n warnings: zombie!kyle, witch!reader, fluff. word count: +800 masterlist

The mansion door opened with telekinesis, hands occupied with groceries, since it was your turn to go to the supermarket. You were finally home, and it felt like running errands was more exhausting than witch lessons. Placing the bags on the counter, you caught sight of your beautiful ray of sunshine entering the kitchen with his arms stretched out.

“Hug,” Kyle asked, flashing a cute smile. You immediately complied, wrapping him in a tight embrace. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Kyle,” you replied, pulling away from the hug, but he pulled you back, this time with more force, burying his head in your neck.

“No,” he groaned, his arms squeezing tighter around you. “You’re gonna leave again.”

“I won’t, Kyle. Promise. I just went to the store,” you tried to reassure him, softly caressing his back. He believed you, letting go of the bear hug. It was time for your idea. “Kyle, now that you’ve learned to speak properly, I was thinking we could play a game together.”

“A game?” He repeated, tilting his head to the side, his curls following the motion.

“Yes. It’ll help you learn better. Come with me,” you guided, taking his hand as you led him up the stairs. At the top, his body went limp, becoming a bit difficult to move, but with your telekinesis, you managed to guide him.

You opened the bedroom door, walked in, and grabbed two sheets of paper and two pencils, sitting down on the floor. Kyle followed, sitting next to you, confused when you handed him the paper and pencil. He started doodling little circles and hearts in the corner, laughing as he showed them to you.

“Okay. The game is called ‘Stop.’” You announced, and he paused, putting the paper on the floor. You chuckled at his confusion. “No, Kyle. You don’t have to stop. It’s just the name of the game.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, lowering his head. You petted his hair, encouraging him.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, making the zombie boy smile. “Here’s how it works. We’ll draw a letter from the alphabet, and we each have to write a word starting with that letter. For example, if we get the letter A, we have to think of an animal, a food, and so on, all starting with A. Got it?”

He looked a little confused but nodded in agreement. It was a lot of information, but you knew he’d get it. You grabbed your phone to randomly pick a letter. C.

“Okay, Kyle… you’re going to write an animal that starts with the letter C,” you guided, watching him scratch his head and write slowly. It was okay; you had all the patience in the world for him.

He turned the paper toward you, excited. “Cat.” He repeated, pointing to the word with his pencil.

“Very good, Kyle,” you encouraged him, feeling him throw himself into another hug, kissing your cheek. “That’s right, very good. Can you write an object and a food?”

“Yes,” he answered eagerly, placing the sheet on the floor and writing a little faster than before. He finished and turned the paper toward you. “Cake. Car. Vroom vroom.”

“That’s right, vroom vroom,” you mimicked, laughing with him.

“I want carrot cake,” he pouted like a little kid, grabbing the pencil and drawing a cake. “Cake.”

“I know, honey,” you laughed, feeling a pang of affection for him. But this was a lesson, and you wanted him to think and speak faster. “We can have cake if you play one more round, okay?”

“Promise?” He asked, holding out his pinky.

“Promise,” you replied, linking your pinky with his. He smiled, kissing the little contract before grabbing the paper from your hands again. You picked another letter: K. “Look, Kyle. The first letter of your name. Can you write it?”

“Ky…Le…” He wrote, proudly showing you his progress. “More.”

“Okay. Write an animal, a food, and an object, alright?” You instructed again. This time, Kyle took longer on his paper. “What’s wrong, darling?”

“I don’t know… a food… with K,” he whined, crumpling the paper into a ball and throwing it aside.

“Hey, hey, Kyle,” you called, gently cupping his face to make him look at you. “It’s okay. I don’t know a food with K either.”

“Really?” He asked, lifting his big, watery eyes to you.

“Really, really.” You confirmed, kissing his forehead. “What about the other words you wrote? Tell me.”

“Kangaroo and Key,” he murmured, defeated, a tiny flicker of frustration crossing his cute face. “I’m dumb.”

“No, don’t ever say that.” You scolded, your tone more serious, which made Kyle flinch. “You’re very smart. Not everyone learns this fast, and you did great today.”

“Very… smart…” He repeated to himself, smiling and jumping into another bear hug. You didn’t say it, but after the carrot cake, you planned on going through the whole alphabet. It seemed like Kyle was really enjoying this lesson.

#kyle spencer x y/n #kyle spencer x you #kyle spencer x reader #kyle spencer #zombie kyle #x reader #imagine #reader insert #fanfic #evan peters #evan peters fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #ahs

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karinadele · 1 day ago

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Hydromorphone

Ratchet x Reader pt: 1

pt: 2

Tumblr

A/N: I started this some time ago and am STRUGGLING to work on it. But I know someone out there would want to read what there is so far- as messy as it is.

Warnings: Fully revolves around pregnancy! Nothing nsfw here but it was meant to sob. Surrogacy, small mention of past termination, 4th wall breaking lmao

The wave of Nausea, the unsettling need to consistently soothe your chest, –morning sickness.

You know it too well. Having been pregnant when you were young, you've learned to pick up the signs early on.

But this time, it's a welcomed one. A child. One that will be loved by two fathers. Deep down you knew this was going to happen. You've seen the two of them meet, fall in love and be married. Being almost a weird 3rd wheel to them, you've accepted that at some point they probably would have asked you to be a surrogate.

Not that you mind, you love your friends to death, and to be able to give them the joy of a life, is a heartwarming feeling inside you. Best part? Your eggs weren't even used. He ended up using his sister's eggs and his husband's sperm. You were just the chosen surrogate as you've gone through pregnancy before. (Although terminated) The most important part was they trusted you.

Carrying a child is no small feat, and while you can't get paid to be pregnant, it is legal for them to pay for expenses during that time. And honestly? That's enough for you. Feed me, I'll suffer a little bit and give you a bundle of joy. Fuck it. Why not?

What your friends didn't know was that you're friends with a doctor who had no idea– and definitely did not agree with this idea.

Ratchet.

The Cybertronian medic ambulance you've come to know. Fluke of a meeting and next thing you know, you were signing NDAs.

You hadn't told him anything, after all, why would you? It's your body and well. For a lack of better term, quite literally none of his business. It's human business.

Honestly you have no idea how Cybertronian reproduction works either, and highly doubt Ratchet knows human’s version either. Maybe a little if he researched it? But he's been so busy on Team Prime that he's hardly even had anytime to even recharge.

Yet oddly enough, this bot has quickly become the closest to you out of all of the team. Something about both of you loving life, or the fact that the two of you have a desperate need to help. Even when it costs yourself.

In the beginning, physical changes weren’t very noticeable. Yes, there were minor changes, but Ratchet was so deep in his own work he barely paid any attention.

Or did he?

Tapping away on his console, he may seem focused, –and he is, but also always keeping an audial out for anything on base. After the scraplet incident, he’s learned to be more aware of anything in his vicinity. The taps of your foot as you strolled in, your ever so light exasperated sighs. Even when you shifted on the ragged old couch, and your grunts when the game you’re playing isn’t working out right.

He’s found you compelling. One of the few adults that know of their existence, and you’re the only one that stops by regularly. He knows he gets along well with June as both of their professions align, but it’s something about you that’s more than that. Perhaps it was because you get along so well with the children, always knowing how to pacify them, or more often bailing them out of trouble. Or maybe it was that you had a serene calming presence to him.

However, lately, he hasn’t been able to feel that aura around you. Day after day he finds himself becoming more agitated and reverting to his old state. Finding your behaviour and movements being out of the ordinary. Yet he can’t put a digit on why it is. You come by the base less and less often, opting to stay home, you’ve often become more lethargic, and he’s found you resting more than you usually do.

For month’s he’s pushed all his thoughts and emotions to the back of his processor, overriding it with more important tasks at hand. But it still nags him. It wasn’t until the other day as you waddled in base that he finally took a good look at you. You’ve gained weight. Oddly it wasn’t evenly distributed, completely all centered around your abdomen. Frowning his optics as he decided he’s had enough.

That afternoon, when he’s finally heard you call for a groundbridge, Ratchet nearly jumped you as soon as you stepped through. It’s been days since you’ve contacted anyone on the base, and weeks since you stopped by. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

Relentingly, you tell him you’re pregnant. Optics widened as he took a step back. “Y-You mean to tell me you’re carrying a sparkling?!” He clambered out.

You figured this conversation was going to happen at some point, but being forced to explain it right here next to the groundbridge was not part of the plan. Is it even safe to travel by groundbridges?! Telling Ratchet to chill out as you waddle over to the couch to flop on it.

Ratchet’s processors were firing overtime. It was like an overcooked oven on its last legs trying to roast turkey for Thanksgiving last minute. What do you mean you’re about to be a carrier?! And why is the sparkling around your torso? Wait, does that mean you have a conjunx?! And how does he not know about this?!

Oh the poor bot’s face. You thought as you sat there looking at him. He's so stunned as if he was Jetfire stuck on ice. “Okay. You probably have a million questions.” You state, waving your hands off.

“Come here Ratchet.” You call out to him.

Holding his servo with both of your hands, you gently guide him to your belly. Placing it on the bump on your stomach as you draw a breath. Both to steady yourself and the baby.

“Do you feel him?” You shakily asked, not even sure if a metal servo would be able to sense delicate touches from the inside of you.

Thankfully, neither of you needed to answer that, as your little gremlin inside you decided this was a perfect moment to do a somersault. Feeling the kick as Ratchet almost instantly pulled away. With your hands still latched onto his, he wasn’t able to get far. You know he won’t harm you or the child, so instead of letting him go, you gripped on and held on steady. As if to tell him you want to share this moment with him. To show him a part of you, and for him to experience it with you.

Part of him wants to pull back, feeling something move inside you from the outside is too foreign. Cybertronian frames don’t move like this, this feels… almost too intimate.

#transformers #maccadam #rambles #transformers x reader #transformers x human #ratchet x reader #ratchet x human #im crying choking theres like more but i cant write it properly!!#it was supposed to be super scientific and ??? bro i fucking dipped out of science in hIGHSCHOOL SO FAST #whatever man..

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starshideurfics · 2 days ago

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A Mother’s Love - Part 3

part 1, part 2

omegaverse, pre-steddie, hints of WaynexBenny, steve with powers

Benny spends the next 37 hours in Wayne’s nest, holding his pup the whole time. It doesn’t make up for the nearly 14 years of holding Steve that he lost out on, but it’s a start.

In the wee hours of the morning, Steve is breathing deeply against Benny’s shoulder, sleeping hard.

Sure they can’t be overheard, Benny turns to Marsha and asks, “What do we tell him?”

“What do you want to tell him?” she returns, just as softly.

“That I did not want to give him up. That it wasn’t my choice.” He breathes deep, peaches and cream flood his senses, and Benny kisses his hair.

“Richard and I haven’t told him he’s adopted yet. But I don’t think he has any memories from before we moved to Hawkins.” She smiles over at Benny and her boy. “I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t want him to have to deal with… Any of it. Not knowing will keep him safer.”

“I agree on all that.”

Benny pets down Steve’s back, purrs to comfort him. “But what do we tell him?” His voice breaks as he asks again.

“He deserves to know as much of the truth as we can tell him. You were young, couldn’t keep him-”

“I wasn’t given a choice!”

“Shh, I know, honey. I know. You’d never choose it.”

She stands, pulls her chair closer so she can touch him, caresses Benny’s cheek. “But it’s also the truth. You didn’t want to give him up, you had to, you knew me from work, asked for help.” She pauses, hand moving to Steve’s hair. “I didn’t realize we’d moved to the same town. All true.”

“Yes.” His heart hurts, so much of his pain is being peeled back and discarded. The horrors of his life cast to the wayside.

“Steve’s always been a sensitive boy. I think he’ll *feel* the connection. I really do.”

“I know. I feel it, too. Could feel it the second I saw him.”

“Mama?” Steve mumbles in his sleep, fingers tightening their grip on Benny’s shirt.

“It’s okay, baby,” Benny murmurs, rubbing his back. “You’re okay.”

That’s all it takes. Steve settles, body going lax again as he nuzzles against Benny’s neck.

When his heat finally breaks, Steve is confused. Disoriented more than anything. But he listens as his mother speaks, still breathing the comforting apple scent on Benny’s shirt. Her words are easy to accept, burrowing deep inside him, finding a home in his heart.

Suddenly, Steve finds himself in possession of a Dad, Mom, and now a Mama.

❤️❤️❤️

Steve gets the weekend after his presentation heat to sleep off the remaining exhaustion and give himself time to absorb everything that’s changed about his life.

And it really does feel like everything has changed.

It’s confusing, but good. He just… He doesn’t want to be different.

Barely anyone brings it up, but Steve knows he doesn’t fit in with most of his classmates simply because his family isn’t from Hawkins. He’s known everyone since Kindergarten, but his mom hasn’t known their moms since 1st grade, so it’s different.

He doesn’t want to give anyone a reason to talk.

His mom and Benny think it’s a good idea to be quiet about it too. So, he decides he won’t tell anyone. There will be enough commotion with him presenting omega.

Tommy still hasn’t presented yet, but he’ll be gross about it. Ask Steve if he wants to play doctor like they’re four.

Steve has no intention of showing anyone else his pussy right now. Especially not Tommy Hagen. It was bad enough that his mom had to check it, and she’s a nurse! But she said it looked perfectly healthy, and Steve fully intends to ignore his new vulva for a while…

But Monday comes, and he can’t ignore school. He rides his bike, like he always does, wanting to feel normal, even if his bicycle seat feels weird now. Because, you know…

But he gets to school, says he doesn’t feel all that different anytime someone asks, but he feels things—stabs of jealousy, confusion, anger and desire wrapped up in one. It’s worst around Tommy, like a buzzing beneath his skin, and Steve is happy to retreat to first period, to sit quietly as Mr. Clarke takes roll.

But the buzzing gets worse, and his head starts to ache. 20 minutes in, it’s like pressure is building inside his skull, sharp pain with every movement, and dull pain if he holds still.

Steve nearly makes it to the end of the hour when the nausea strikes, and he makes it to the trash can by the door just in time to puke up his breakfast.

Mr. Clarke sends him to the nurse’s office. She has him lie down, puts a cold compress over his eyes. That helps, and the buzzing is gone.

Steve cries, a little from relief, but more from anguish. A grief that isn’t his. He looks at Nurse Baker, remembers his mom saying something about a drunk running a red light and hitting a pedestrian.

Sees the bags beneath her eyes, like she doesn’t sleep. “Are you okay?” he asks.

It’s like a switch flips on her face, but the sadness still radiates out from her chest. “I’m fine, Steven,” she says, smiling. “How are you feeling? I called your mother, but she can’t get away from work.” She strokes his hair, replaces the cold compress on Steve’s forehead. “She said your uncle will pick you up. Take you home.”

“Okay,” Steve whispers, confused and hurting.

Ten minutes later Benny arrives in the office, dropping into a crouch at Steve’s side. “Hey, Pup,” he says softly. “You think you can walk, or are you gonna hurl again?”

“I can walk,” Steve insists, sitting up. Benny rubs his back, helps him stand. They make it to the parking lot without issue, but alone, in Benny’s truck, Steve starts crying again. “I think something’s wrong with me.”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Baby. You’re perfect. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.” Benny holds him close, pushes out his scent.

Steve can smell his fear. His worry. He’s always been sensitive like that.

💔💔💔

Benny still has nightmares about the day he gave birth. About the day his baby was stolen away.

They gave him enough drugs that he doesn’t remember the pain so clearly, but he remembers hearing his pup cry. Remembers how desperate he was to hold him.

He never got the chance.

The nurses whisked him from the room, Brenner saying he needed tests and shots, that the hard part was over and Benny should rest.

He didn’t want to rest. He wanted his pup. Cried out for him. But the nurses didn’t bring him back. Said he went into respiratory arrest. That his heart stopped.

That’s when the pain started. Pain in his heart. Pain between his legs from being cut, from the stitches. Pain in his breasts as his milk comes in.

Marsha spent days with him after, holding his hand, helping him pump, then helping his milk dry up.

But in his dreams, he’s alone.

He can hear his pup crying, but he cannot move. His legs feel heavy, so heavy he can’t lift them. He hurts, and there’s blood everywhere. His nipples are leaking, and that’s blood too.

Everything is red.

The crying stops suddenly, and it’s too quiet. He screams himself hoarse. Begs for his pup. He wakes screaming.

The dreams are worse near the anniversary… His pup’s birthday.

Steve’s birthday.

He thinks that’s why they’ve hit him again, even now that he’s found his boy again.

It’s why he has bags under his eyes when he picks Steve up from the nurse’s office.

Steve turns 14 next week.

Nearly 14 years his baby was gone. And having him back isn’t enough to stop the dreams.

At least now he has a scent token in his nest that smells of sweet peaches that he can sniff to calm his fears.

Even better, he has Steve in his arms in the cab of his truck.

Steve whines against his shoulder, moaning, “But I feel broken. Like everyone is pushing into my head.”

“Everything?”

“*Everyone.* It hurts.”

Benny rubs his back, and feels just as helpless as his baby. “We’ll talk to Mom about it when she gets home. But you need to lay down, let’s get you home.”

“No.”

“Baby, it’ll be okay. We’ll get you in your nest-”

“No. Don’t leave me.” Steve grabs hard at his shoulder, fingers locked in place.

“I need to go to work.”

“I’ll come with you. Please.” His nose nuzzles forward, finds Benny’s neck. “Please, Mama.”

Benny feels tears against his skin. He can’t say no to that, not when his boy is hurting. When he needs him.

Benny drives back to his burger shop, still having about an hour before he opens for lunch. He brings Steve in, smiles to see him relax, and has him get settled at a booth in the corner.

“If you start feeling it again, the pushing into your head, let me know right away,” Benny orders gently. He forces a smile. “But if your stomach is settled, I’d guess you’re hungry. Think you could eat a couple eggs and some toast?” The eggs are tor the Sunrise Burger, the toast for the patty melt. There’s no breakfast on his menu, but it feels like the best option right now, quick and simple.

Steve nods, mumbles his thanks as he puts his head down on the table and closes his eyes.

“Okay, I’ll let your mom know you’re here, and I’ll be right back with those eggs. It’ll be okay, Baby.”

“It’ll be okay,” Benny repeats to himself as he heads in the back, to the phone. It has to be.

He just got his baby back.

❤️❤️❤️

“What’s that mean, ‘he’s empathic,’ like, I get that he’s gentle, sensitive, but what’s it mean?” Wayne asks when Benny comes over after closing.

Marsha picked Steve after work, just before the dinner rush, explained as best she could in whispers. Benny spent the rest of the evening turning it over in his head. He thinks he understands it now. “In the program… We were trying to tap into the deeper powers of the human mind. I… dabbled with LSD when I was younger, it’s how I found MKUltra. Brenner. His goal was telekinesis. Reading minds. Science fiction stuff.”

He pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Martha said most of the children showed signs of some power, but Steve struggled. He cried all the time, was inconsolable most days. She doesn’t think Brenner figured it out, that he was picking up on big feelings, anything harsh like fear or pain. She helped him build walls in his mind—when he started school—and I don’t fully understand it, but I guess presenting broke through them.”

“So he can feel what other people are feeling…”

“And teenagers feel things so strongly…”

Wayne reaches out, grabs Benny’s hand. “And it made him throw up?”

“How would you feel if a couple dozen horny, angry, moody teens’ emotions flooded your head?” Benny returns, still gentle, but Wayne knows him so well, can read the worry and anger in his scent.

“I’d probably puke, too,” Wayne answers, pumping out his own calming scent, sweet cinnamon fills the air and Benny breathes deeply. His shoulders unhunch a little.

“Marsha is gonna work with him in rebuilding the walls, but she’s worried he’s too comfortable with her, that he’s too attuned to her emotions already…”

“Does she think you can-”

“No, after his presentation… I guess I’m too safe.”

“Too safe?”

“Yeah… And she thinks it would help to have him working with someone closer to his age. With big, teenage emotions…”

Wayne shakes his head. “Ben, no. You can’t mean-”

“He didn’t say anything when he got Steve over here. I trust him, and Marsha doesn’t trust any of Steve’s friends.”

“Eddie’s got a big mouth, I love the boy, but what if he says anything to Al?”

“We’re not worried about Al. This is about keeping it from Brenner, in case he’s still keeping tabs on Marsha at all.”

“I’ll talk to him about needing help tomorrow,” Wayne agrees softly. He stands up. “How are you doing? This is a lot to deal with, even when your kid doesn’t have some kind of special powers.”

Benny covers his eyes, whines when Wayne touches his shoulder. “It’s my fault. This is what we were trying to do. And now my baby’s hurting.”

“You’re helping him feel better. And you didn’t know it would be like this. You didn’t.” Wayne rubs his back as Benny hides his face against the other omega’s shirt. “You love your boy so much, you’re being so strong for him.”

Benny lets himself cry in Wayne’s arms.

He loves his boy so much.

#omegaverse #fanfiction #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #stranger things fic #mpreg #mkultra benny #omega benny hammond #omega wayne munson

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lady-quen · 3 days ago

Text

Hounds to Hamartia

"...Do you really want this, Commander? You wouldn't have gotten so far if not for your hunger." "...A hunger to succeed. To be recognized. To have power. You greedy creature, always reaching for more than you can swallow until the God of Flames finally made you choke on it. And yet, you'd return? To do it all over again? Don't you see how far you've already fallen - from a bright eyed Valiant to a wolf gripping tight the reins of all those who would dare question and oppose you? You're a killer, you know, right? You're never satisfied. And no matter what you do and how much you achieve, it will never be enough. You can drink til you're sick but never til you're satisfied. You will lose your Dream but your Hunt shall never end. Is this what you want?" "To save her. Yes. I will do anything." "Will you be anything?" "Yes."

[The Departing soft rewrite as applicable to my canon. 15k words. Tws for major character death, major character undeath, blood, gore, unreality, fantasy racism, swearing. The study of ambition as a fatal flaw, ironic destiny, as well as what it means to become a monster to stop an arrogant god. The Commander's encore.]

The arid Elonian air strained his lungs. That, and all that smoke from the Forged that insisted on barricading his path every step of the way.

The Knight ducked, deftly avoiding a blow from a massive Cannonade - deathly green magic snaking around the tip of Caladbolg as he angled it upward. With a shink! the Thorn slotted neatly between the plates of the construct's armor, severing the strands that bound the soul battery within. The flame fizzled out, and the colossus fell to its knees.

That... was the last of them. Maelmordha sighed, wiping a stray bead of sweat from silver skin. Sun-dried, his leaves and bark had practically lost all color. The sylvari took a short break in his climb, leaning against one of the rocky pillars that offered him some shade. Idly, his unaltered hand played with the settings of his communicator. He had already tried to enter the channel before, but the duststorms coming in from around Kesho had rendered the effort moot. Once again, the device returned nothing but static. Just like the buzz of sand in his ears when he braved the vast desert.

The necromancer pocketed the contraption, vinetooth arm adjusting Caladbolg's weight upon his shoulder. Not too long, now, he thought to himself. As he walked, the top of the Spire finally came into view - the meeting place he had arranged for the Dragon's Watch to pick him up. In theory, the altitude should allow for his communicator to work even despite the chaotic weather.

In practice, however, he really didn't like the dark clouds looming in the distance.

„Taimi, come in.” He stopped in the middle of the plateau. The only thing that answered him was yet more static, causing the Knight to let out an exasperated huff. The airship should have been visible by now. Did they get stuck in the storm? Worst case scenario, he could wait however long it took - he'd much rather spend a few extra rations than have the Watch crash somewhere far from civilization, thrown to the mercy of Elona's fickle weather and scorching sun. Spirits of this land only knew just how much of a scorned mistress it could really be, but he was beginning to get an idea. And that idea was that the sky was darkening much too quickly to be natural.

Something stirred in the pit of his stomach. Gold eyes narrowed, scanning the area around him. His stronger arm rested on the hilt of the Thorn, feeling the fuzz on his neck stand up as though seized by crackling static.

A sound. Like thunder.

The Commander leapt back, just narrowly avoiding the fiery meteor that crash landed in the middle of the Spire. What in the fucking Hydras..?! No, this wasn't a meteor -

„Balthazar!” His lips moved on their own. Fuck.

The God seemed to drink in the shock and fear betrayed by the necromancer's features. Grizzled features contorting in a self-satisfied smirk beneath a crown of obsidian horns. His gaze was oppressive, even when his voice seemed almost eerily playful. „Expecting someone else?”

Shit. This wasn't winnable.

The Commander forced a smile, even when he could already feel his skin shedding water at the sheer heat emanating from the God of Fire. His mask would do no good here - Balthazar knew all too well he held the upper hand. Still, if the Dragon's Watch were to come - how did the human God even know they were meeting here?!

Think, Mael, think..!

„Oh? Can't a man go sightseeing in peace?” He blurted out with a nervous laugh, Caladbolg poised and ready for combat. He could hear the rush of sap in his ears, heart pounding to the rhythm of alarm bells ringing in his skull. Gold eyes scanned the plateau. As if on cue, walls of fire, summoned with a snap of the rogue deity's fingers. Cutting off his escape route. Like a wolf smoked out of its den and ensnared in a ring of burning forest.

This was the end of the road. Knowing running was no longer an option, the sylvari's gaze focused on Balthazar, eyes wide and instinctive smirk turning into a wicked-looking grin. It wasn't a smile, anymore. He was a cornered beast, all bared teeth and feet ready to spring. The god chuckled. „Good. Just like that. I want your eyes on me, now, Commander.”

His title was a mockery, upon Balthazar's tongue. Like playing pretend with a child who wished he could be king. In the end, mortal rulers were but fleeting autumn leaves, falling soundless before eternal Gods. Not even a requiem, only the desert winds.

Fuck that. He was not going to think that way. He would not give this man the satisfaction. Maelmordha grinned, the sharpened tips of his fangs but polished wood before the hulking giant of flame and metal. So, too, was Caladbolg - but the Thorn had slain strange things before. And he laughed, a brazen sound to challenge Balthazar's own. If he were to fall, he would not go quietly.

„Bring it, then. Just us.”

No one was coming. Good. He would not suffer Balthazar to hurt his guild.

His attitude seemed to humor the God. An enormous blade of lupine decor and crackling hellfire rose at the fiery monarch's whim, carried solely by the strength of his will. Mael prepared himself to dodge - ducking swiftly under a wide swing that would have surely cleaved him in twain where he stood. Like a hot knife through butter. Still the red-hot bottom of the sword singed his foliage, adding a dusting of black to once pure-white leaves.

He sprang back to his feet, rolling deftly around the God's shin. Caladbolg struck viciously - a resounding clang as divine wood struck divine metal, repelled by the sheer force of magic clashing against magic. Shit. Balthazar was not only armored from head to toe - he was his armor, inhabited by flame like the lanterns in the Grove holding fireflies.

Unbothered, the God of War extended a palm - his war machine of a sword moving of its own accord and raking the ground where Mael had stood but moments prior. Lazy, like a cat swatting a toy mouse. Knowing its plaything won't run away. Catching a gaze of twin funeral pyres, the necromancer extended a hand of his own. There was no flesh nor blood here, but a necromancer of his caliber could make do.

„Rise!” He commanded, and the bleached bone of Elona's past answered his call. Skeletal warriors, rapidly assembling, with sand-worn equipment clutched in desiccated digits. Not like these could do much against the living embodiment of volcanic fury dressed in fortress walls, but they could be a distraction.

„Oh? What's this? Playing with toys? Feeling lonely?” Balthazar teased, a swing of his sword turning one of his minions into bone dust. Too shattered to return, a jigsaw with a million pieces. „...Have your friends abandoned you?”

He wasn't going to let Balthazar's teasing get to him. He only grinned in response, brows furrowed over sharp, golden orbs. Good, he wanted to say. Good, only I pay the price for my foolishness - no, don't think like that.

...You can salvage this. He's arrogant. An enemy so sure of their superiority won't be as ready for the tables to turn.

He ducked and weaved, striking with Caladbolg where he was able. Hissing as the fire burned his skin by mere proximity, retreating into a Shroud of shadows. Each step of this dance was a brush with death - against a predator who could crush him in a single blow.

„What do you say we take things a little more slowly this time?” The deity rumbled contentedly - reveling in his opponent's fleeting strength.

„I'm surprised a God can derive this much enjoyment from fighting one mortal.” Maelmordha quipped back. „Picking on prey your own size didn't go well, last time?”

„It seems you need a lesson in humility.”

He provoked him. Good.

Having baited Balthazar into advancing, the Commander leapt back. As soon as the God's boot touched the polished stone floor where he had stood but seconds prior, runic patterns alight with a green hue began their work.

An explosion, followed by another, and another. Sizzling poison accompanied by bitter frost, Death's own essence wrapped around the fallen God's form to sap his strength. The necromancer felt some of his burns heal from the sheer amount of magic taken through this gambit. Revitalized, a glimmer of hope surfaced within his mind that maybe, he could last long enough to devise a proper plan.

...And yet, even that amount of magic only seemed equal to plucking a single hair off the back of a rampaging boar. Balthazar didn't even seem to feel it.

He closed the gap faster than Mael could have ever anticipated such a behemoth to move. A motion of a fiery hand prompting his greatsword to thrust forward at unprecedented speed, and the Pact Commander could only respond so well.

A massive claw of pure darkness rose from the ground to intercept the blade, hardening quickly into solid shadow. But the flame only burned brighter. Parting the dark like a lantern, phasing right through his spell before he was fully ready to dodge.

He felt the blade brush against his side. It almost felt painless - before the scream caught in his throat.

He fell to his right, clutching his cleaved side. Golden blood gushed from the gruesome wound, Caladbolg clattering to the ground without fanfare. A howl of agony burst through clenched lips before he could ever choke it down. Shaking, he pushed down on crimson fabric, knowing no bandage could stem the flow of the sap that stickied his fingers.

Like a tree taking an axe to the trunk only to topple over. Even with all these years, he really was no more than a sapling.

No, no..! Get up. This isn't the end. Is it..?

He fought so hard to not let the terror show in his eyes. Even so much as meeting Balthazar's gaze was a monumental task. But he did. He blinked against the twin suns that threatened to steal his vision, and the Lord of Flames smirked. Satisfaction, mockery, faux pity, he couldn't even tell what it was, if not all of it at once.

„Feeling mortal yet?” He thundered, even the softest whisper of his voice an earthquake in its own right. „Do you recall the lesson? No? Let me repeat it for you: never defy a god.”

Through the haze of pain and building panic, the necromancer did the only thing appropriate. He laughed. His vinetooth arm reached for the fallen Thorn. Using the sword as a crutch, he pulled himself up to his feet. Even if his knees trembled. Even if the warmth spreading across his side sent waves of nausea through his guts.

And he felt it again. That magic he had absorbed previously. Except - no - this magic was.. was Balthazar directly feeding a sliver of his magic to him, right in that very moment? Was he going crazy from blood loss? And if so, why did he suddenly feel so much better?

Good enough to stand. Good enough to swing a sword - even with just one arm, and the other possibly the only barrier stopping his insides from sightseeing the outside world. He was still bleeding, but this... he had time. He had time.

Time. Time. Just... a little more time. What are you holding out for, Valiant? You know help isn't coming.

Tick, tock.

He bit back a groan of pain. I'll cross that bridge when I get there.

Every second he wrestled from this dire hourglass was a testament to his resilience. Every long second that counted down towards his death was a testament to Balthazar's pride. Panting, mortal breath mixed with immortal, singing fire and the roar of a sword two times his height or more slamming against the ground like a thunder drum.

A terrible symphony, for none to behold but themselves.

Tick, tock. He dodged. Tick, tock. The Thorn glanced off of impenetrable armor. Tick, tock. He slipped on his blood. Balthazar seemed almost disappointed at the lack of banter.

He couldn't move fast enough. His right hand joined the left in gripping the hilt of Caladbolg when he prepared to parry. Blinding light strained his eyes as the telekinetic strike came his way, and he angled the Thorn to minimize damage.

A sickening crunch. He skid back several meters, fresh pain seizing control of his senses. His right arm refused his control, and the tip of Caladbolg fell heavy against the floor in a pitiful attempt to stop him from falling. His breath came in ragged gasps as he beheld what had become of his uncorrupted arm - mangled at the elbow, splinters of wood tearing through vine. Fresh sap streaming down his sleeve, dripping from unresponsive fingers. It hurt. Oh, by the Tree it hurt so much. A low whine of agony escaped heaving lungs, tears flowing freely down silver cheeks. He couldn't even find the energy to meet the God's gaze, then. And he wasn't sure he even wanted to. Reality's weight was settling in, like dull ache in the bones.

If he looked at him now, what would he find? What was this sadism? How long would this last..?

Tick.

Tock.

Another blow. There wasn't even any time for him to breathe. If he were to fall, he would not go quietly. Like a ragdoll, he was practically thrown across the arena, a new slash in his shoulder rendering his right side almost completely useless. His mangled form finally came to a halt when it crashed against a pillar, rupturing something inside. A pained hiss, then desperate roar of hatred and sheer anguish. With his sole working hand, he slowly dragged himself, yet again, towards his sword.

„Suffer a little more loudly. Cry out!” The God raved in glee. „Let everyone hear!”

...Who...? There was no one here... Was there? It was getting dark. Maybe the shadows dancing at the edges of his vision were people, after all.

So he did the only thing he felt he could still do. Eyes numb to the pain. He got... up. Up to his knees, for his body refused to climb any higher. Up, as though clawing for a shred of dignity. At this point, the liquid pooling in his mouth tasted all the sweeter when he considered it signaled his coming release. And he knew how Trahearne had felt. Yes, the darkness suddenly seemed so... appealing. Even if the quiet scared him.

He didn't want it to be so... quiet.

„I do enjoy these little get-togethers. You're proving to be quite useful.” What in the fuck was Balthazar rambling on about? He struggled to focus on the words. He let out a wheezy „what” and spat anothet mouthful of sap. M-maybe if he tried to talk, Balthazar would converse rather than slowly pull him apart. Alas, his inquiry was ignored.

But something else answered. At first, he didn't know what it was.

The God of Fire walked towards him at a leisurely pace, before finally stopping mere centimeters away from the Knight - forcing him to look practically straight up. He could no longer make out Balthazar's features, privy only to a hazy outline of horns and two burning eyes.

„Listen...” Maelmorda rasped. Even that much took an unbelievable amount of effort. A long pause, just to collect enough breath to form words. „I never... even... wanted... to kill you....”

The true threat to Tyria were the Dragons. And they could not be killed without catastrophe following. He supposed all his dreams and lofty ambitions were but delusions of a madman. In a sense, Braham was right. Who gave him the right to kill Dragons, anyway? And who made him believe he could ever stand against a God? Hubris, all the way down. His very own hamartia.

„You won't.” The deity of Fire and War answered, matter-of-factly. The clock was winding down. Sleep. Please. „...How sad for you to die so far from home.” Please. No more magic moving his strings. No more teetering on the brink of oblivion.

No more. He let out a harsh gasp and fell backwards. Balthazar seemed satisfied. He supposed he could die knowing he gave a God some exercise.

There was a light in the sky. Huh, so this is how....

He blinked. This was no star, nor an opening of the heavens. It moved. It was... blue. And he felt a tiny mind hold the hand of his own. Filling his silence with song just to keep him afloat. And he knew. And oh, he knew.

„Ah, the scion... come here to defend her Champion.”

„Aurene, no...” He cried out, sole working hand reaching out in her general direction. His mind begging her to run. Grasping at the air with twitching fingers, as though he could in any way stop the God from taking her like he took all he ever wanted. Just another conquest.

She whined like a battered pup. Tiny yelps that communicated more than language ever could. Her magic cradling his weary soul even as he felt every thread that tied him to existence snap one by one. Begging her to stop. Holding her mind's hand when she refused, for he knew all too well the pain of letting go. But Balthazar had already claimed what he came for. Played him like the fool he was. So he decided to claim one last thing, just out of spite. I want your eyes on me, now.

Aurene was whisked away from the reach of his vision, fading sight filled completely by his killer. And the sword that lingered, a stake, above his heart. „And now, you die.”

...Aurene, I'm so -

In an instant, she felt the connection sever.

What am I? Who am I?

It saw a barren sky, shorn of stars. Its eyes never blinked. It did not know what a sky was. Only that it filled its sight, the very first ephemeral memory, ever since „existence” became a concept that it knew.

But besides that, it also knew one other, much more intimate thing - an idea that existed before it did. The idea it needed to be somewhere else.

It rose. Spectral fingers digging into grass, without feeling. Chest falling and rising without breath, as though in a hazy recollection of having once carried that rhythm.

The ground was cold. What was... cold? Everything that heat wasn't. It did not know why, but it brought it comfort. The idea of being something else than cold terrified it. And so it wandered. It was the only thing it could really do. It was almost familiar, like a dreamscape that it once existed in before existence became a concept that gave it meaning.

Occasionally, it passed another spark. Heard questions, and discovered it could speak.

What is my name? Something inquired. I don't know, it answered.

What is a... name? And why does everything hurt?

In the distance, an object. It moved towards it. Beside it, stood a spark, asking questions. Inside it, stood another. Different. Almost like it did not... belong. The very moment it moved closer, it was addressed directly.

„You there! Come here. Over here. We can help each other. What is your name?”

Ah, again... that word.

„I don't even know who I am. Or where I am... Or how I got here.” It only spoke the truth. It had no concept of anything else - at least at the time. The stranger, however, seemed well versed.

„You died - it happens.” It shrugged. Seemingly unbothered at the notion of whatever death was, even though it certainly raged at the predicament of being restrained within an object. „Welcome to the Domain of the Lost. I am, of course, King Palawa Joko.”

Huh, it thought, and its mind regained a little clarity. Was „Palawa Joko” a name?

„King Joko..? I'm sorry. I don't know that name,” it gently responded. Wide, curious, trusting gold, like the eyes of a a freshly blossomed hound. Ah, yes... it missed them. Why weren't there more hounds? It felt like there were, last time. When was... last time?

Its inability to recall the name sent the stranger into a fit of anger. The spark could only tilt its head inquisitively, attempting to understand the many terms that rapidly spilled forth from chapped lips. Ah, yes... it had... a body. It was not a spark - a spirit. Like it. Why was it different?

So it asked. And received another name in response - Balthazar. It felt... familiar. But it did not feel cold, and that scared it more than anything.

It seemed this Balthazar was a liar, then. A deceiver. And it understood what it meant to lie and deceive, and some of the light left its eyes. It knew that it, too, had lied and deceived in life. But... why? Why would someone do that? A concept of a headache was something that became known right after. And yet, that gnawing, anxious sensation persisted. This was no place for it. It needed to be somewhere, but not here.

And it realized it, too, had been a he. Like Balthazar. Was he.. Balthazar? No. He can't have been, right? He had half a mind to ask Joko about it, but the amount of confusion he was already suffering was enough for the time. Such as, what the difference between „God” and „King” even was, if there was any.

He imagined that, had he really been Balthazar, King - God..? Joko would have had more to say about it. He let out a spectral sigh as he watched the other spark argue with the stranger on the proper definition of godhood. He was not sure what “Genuflect, peasant” was supposed to mean, but apparently, the Domain of the Lost was where such debates commonly took place.

„Come, gentle spirit. You must take the next steps, and I've heard enough of Joko's blasphemies.” Its - her..? voice pried him from his thoughts. She had evidently grown bored with the stranger within the object, and decided to debate him next. Oh, Mother. Wait, who was Mother? But more importantly...

„...Who is the Judge..?” He asked the fellow spark, following closely in tow. The landscape was strange and the anxiety was not going away. Even existing was difficult, like every body part was ill-fitting. Uncomfortable, like his very self was a lie.

She turned her head, coal brown meeting gold. She had a soothing air around her, like the remnants of a gentle sun. Warm. But not... scary. Not in the sense that Balthazar was.

„He is a loyal servant of Grenth. Charged with sending all the spirits who come through here to their appointed place.”

„But I don't know who I am. I don't know where I should be.” He mused sadly, as though afraid to admit he had no frame of reference. Everything simply fell away the moment he arrived here. If he even did arrive. Or had he always been here..? And yet, if so, why did it feel so wrong?

They walked the haunted plain, passing many other sparks. Some tall, some diminutive, some with beaks and fangs and tails. So many shapes to exist in that he had never fathomed. So, he looked at his hands. Compared his silver skin to that of the spark walking beside him. Bronze, soft, kissed by the sun. His was... harsher, pale, cold like snow.

Eventually, his senses were filled with the presence of something far greater than mere sparks. She beckoned for him to step forward, coaxing him gently towards the being. He was... massive. Hooded, with a skull mask for a face. He absentmindedly touched his own.

„Come, spirit. Do not be afraid.”

„I'm not sure why I'm here, or even who I am.” He confessed, resolving not to lie. In truth, he wasn't even sure.. how to, at least not at the time, but if being wretched had condemned him to that place, then nothing good could ever come of it.

The creature seemed to recognize his turmoil, and spoke in a soothing baritone. „That's because most spirits find their own way to their fate when they die.” He explained. „But those whose deaths are too traumatic often forget who they were or how they perished.”

„These spirits, like you and me, end up here in the Domain of the Lost.” The spark beside him added. Again, that name. This place. So.. wrong. Traumatic. Perished..? Right. He died. King Joko told him that.

„But I can't be here.” He tried to reason in the only words he knew. He didn't know why, nor where else he was possibly meant to be - he just knew it wasn't there. Like... warm. Too warm. Like fire.

Walls closing in from every direction, every angle, and he needed to get out. He needed to call for help, but also... he needed it to stay away. He was not to be helped. Why? There was a shadow in here with him. One other being. The only one. He felt like it had all happened before, and was the reason everything hurt. Why his skin felt like a lie, and his gaze darted around corners.

„You will reach your rightful place in time.” The grand being reassured, standing ever tall. He had to look up just to meet his gaze, and his chest moved faster.

„First, you must recover your name to know who you were and how you lived. Then, you must learn your purpose, to understand the choices you made and why you lived as you did.” The Judge continued, his bright green orbs a familiar hue. „Once you know your name and your purpose, only then can I determine your final destination.”

„...But how do I do that?” He asked. Confusion and fear swirled in gold eyes, as though the walls were already getting closer. Soon, he may be stuck here forever. A cage. Let him out. Let him out. He needs to see her.

Who?

„Nenah has traveled the path you now face. She can assist you.” The servant of Grenth clarified, an armored hand signaling in the direction of the sunlit spark. He met her eyes, and understood her name. ”...For though they may have belonged to you in life, once your name and purpose enter this domain, they are yours no longer. And you will have to fight to reclaim your name.” The creature's next words rang out with a heavy finality. „Now, arm yourself.”

And he was gone, dissolving into the shadows from whence he had come. Though he still had more questions than answers, this... was a starting point.

„Nenah... So you discovered your name? How do I reclaim mine?” The cold spark mused, unsure where to even begin. He did not want to fight other spirits for something he wasn't even sure was his. What if he ended up with the wrong name? What if he stole someone else's only hope to leave this place? Was this a price he was willing to pay? A spectral hand massaged the bridge of his nose, as though the habit had helped him process similar predicaments in life. Not that... he really even knew what „life” was - just that it wasn't „here.”

And if it wasn't here, maybe he needed to be alive.

„I learned my name from the spirit of my old mentor. But only after besting him at a challenge of riddles.” Nenah smiled sadly in recollection, letting the words linger on her tongue. ”I discovered my purpose hidden in an old diary I had written as a child. I was a teacher.”

A mentor, then. How fitting. Guiding others in life, and now again in death. A luminary in a land of darkness. „Is it that simple?” He raised his brows, hesitant to believe things could ever go so smoothly. Somehow, he had an inkling that bad luck was destined to follow him wherever he went. Call it a hunch, but... his hunches tended to be correct.

„It's different for everyone. The judge said you must fight to recover your name, so you clearly weren't a teacher.” Nenah pondered aloud, taking in his form from head to toe. His gaze followed hers, and he found himself clad in crimson fabric. Comfortable, but form-fitting clothes, accentuating his graceful shape. His shoulders, adorned with metal pauldrons - and knees guarded in a similar manner. Chainmail beneath his vest, little interwoven loops of steel. „A soldier, perhaps?”

„I... I don't know.” Despite everything, he truly did not know. The world was bleeding back in very slowly. Who's to say he was a fighter? Maybe he was a scholar? A performer? His knuckle idly moved across his lip, but he excavated nothing else from the chasm that was his memory.

Nenah sighed. „Well, if you are to fight, you must first arm yourself.”

„With what?” He asked, incredulous. For whatever reason, he had an instinct to pat himself over for hidden weapons. The woman raised a ghostly eyebrow.

„Spirits must abandon their possessions before they may move on.” She set off towards some distant yonder, and once again he followed.

„I'll look around. Maybe I will.. find something.” He sifted through foliage and rubble, even when the geometry of the place didn't make much sense. For weapons, he would usually go to... a blacksmith. A mystic forge, maybe. Mother?

„You know, I.. remember. I had a sword.” He recounted, searching for a familiar outline on the floor. Sliding across stone. Reaching for the hilt. He only had bits and pieces, but he instinctively looked low. „I think.. Mother gave me it.”

„Your mother?” Nenah chatted. „Was she a warrior, then? Was the sword a family heirloom?”

„I don't... think she was, no. But I think others have owned that blade before me. I think it... had seen the blood of its wielders.”

„Too much blood spilled everywhere, I tell you...” The fellow spark sighed. „I know all about it, gentle spirit. Though with your recent revelations, I suppose gentle may not be so fitting.”

„...Why do you think so?”

She did not answer.

It took them a long time to get anywhere with the search. He supposed time lost meaning in a place such as this - with no frame of reference, who's to say what was day and what was night? If death had already come, there was nothing to count down towards. Sifting through mud, he wondered whether eternity was always supposed to be so dull.

Here and there, other sparks. Shaped like many things - the best approximations of themselves in life that they could muster. And yet, there were also those formless. Like clouds, and their voices sounded like rain mixed with lightning static. Nenah warned him away from those. He supposed that was what awaited if one did not reclaim their name.

And then some who spoke in nonsense and riddles. Cryptic warnings, issued from behind trembling hands, as though covering one's face rendered them invisible. It's coming, they whispered. What, he asked.

„...The Beast. And It will get you too.”

Before he could ask any additional questions, the spark... evaporated. Pure magic in the air, and then nothing. Wherever they had gone, he hoped they had at least escaped It.

„...Is it Balthazar?”

„Who?” The teacher turned to face him as he sifted through a pile of sand.

„The Beast. It's the worst thing I have heard spoken of, here. It feels like it matches with that name.” He had no better ideas, anyway. Each step into the unknown unlocked something - not always useful, but he was determined to connect the dots. Even when he grasped at straws.

„Oh, Balthazar? No, no. He's one of the Human Gods. The Six. And he betrayed them.”

„He betrayed them? He lied and deceived them? Why?”

„No one knows. One day, he just... did. And the Beast has been here ever since.”

The sand moved with a gust of wind. A shine caught his eye, and he moved closer.

And there it was, halfway buried, as though attempting to take root. A ghostly image of his sword - slotting neatly into his hand. Like it was meant to be there. Like it had been, for a long, long time.

„Huh.” Nenah gave Caladbolg a good lookover, before coal eyes met honey gold.

„I know now. I was a soldier.” There was conviction in the spark's voice. A newfound confidence, even when facing his truths came at a cost. His words gradually turned quiet. „I... don't think I was a good man. I lied and deceived. I think I wanted something very much.”

Nenah lingered in silence. A hand of sun-kissed bronze rested upon one of the cold spark's shoulders, feeling metal. A reassurance, perhaps. Or simply an acknowledgement. Whatever it was, her smile gave him the strength to keep going.

„Look. Over here.” She suddenly yanked him, pulling him behind a cover of trees. And then, himself.

Red cloth, bronze tinted metal. Stealing fervent glances, as though afraid of every shadow. That expression of prey-animal terror did not suit his features.

„That spirit... it looks just like me.”

„We should follow. Hurry!” They ran after it, and it broke into a sprint. It weaved inbetween rocks and trees, heading for a cave shrouded in webs. A dead end. His gold eyes met their own reflection, and his mirror image screamed.

The Thorn moved like second nature, and the dagger fell out of their hand. And so, the illusion shattered - a small creature huddled, weeping, where his warped self had been. „I yield!” It screeched. „I yield. Take it! It's yours.”

He still held the Thorn - a show of power, though he did not intend to strike down the thief. „Why did you steal my name?” Gone was the mellow calm with which he arrived. The timbre of his voice changed - and so too did the look in his eyes. No longer honey, but liquid gold. „Answer me.”

And the creature wept, for it did not know any better. But he still did not remember. Why he fought, why he lied, why he killed.

„Keep looking.” The same guiding hand rested once again upon his shoulder. Though steady, her tone was filled with urgency. „If you don't reclaim your name quickly, you could lose it forever.”

And so, he fought - like the soldier he was. And as each spark begged for his mercy, doubt surfaced in his spirit.

„What if it was.. an evil name? What if finding who I am will make me worse?” He questioned, feeling the heat radiating from his bark. Pain. The sword in his hand was singed and black. It hurt. He did not remember, but the pain was growing. „What if where I am meant to go is even...”

„That's not for you to dwell on. Your task here is merely to find it. There is nothing more for ones such as we.”

„Nothing more..?”

„Your name and your purpose are all there is. And since more than one have claimed your name, it means it must be a prestigious one. Now, ask yourself. If yours were an evil name, then would they still seek to make it theirs?”

„...Do they know who I was? And if so, then why don't I..?”

„You will. All things in time. So fight, noble spirit.”

And he fought. Until the tide of shadows finally stopped coming. And the dam holding back his tears broke.

„I remember.” He lifted his clawed hand, watching his digits tremble with each new memory that surfaced in his hollowed mind. „My life... was filled with conflict.” Always war. Always killing. „Victory... and loss. I was a leader - a commander. I was...”

A Dreamer. A Valiant. A son. A Knight. A Commander. A Champion. A Dragonkiller. A Lichslayer.

„...Maelmordha. Yes. This is who I was.” A name, of his own. Something that felt right and not like a lie - even if the pain never went away.

Umber eyes lit up with the gentlest smile. „I could tell, Maelmordha. You wielded that weapon like a true fighter.”

„But I don't know why I fought... what I strove for, or against.” The sylvari spirit looked down, amber orbs filled with indescribable longing. It was all so very tiring, and he felt bad for relying on Nenah's guidance so extensively. Didn't she have a place to be..?

Didn't she, too, feel like she had to be somewhere else?

„Next is your purpose. What drove you forward... and what ultimately led to your death. The answer is here, somewhere in the Domain of the Lost.”

„...I just have to find it.” He finished her thought. She smiled, and nodded. He returned the gesture. „But how will I know it? Where will I find it?”

The words that came next were nothing but cryptic - as his guide slowly made her way onward, as though knowing exactly where to go. „If you truly desire it... your purpose will find you. I'd start with the bird.”

„A bird..?” The fallen necromancer questioned. And then he saw it: a raven of brilliant white. Its feathers alight with a sheen that reminded him of home - like Mother's petals. And he remembered Her, and each lullaby She used to sing. „Come! I need to -”

He tripped over a stray root, and realized it was moving. The ground itself shook and parted beneath his feet, tendrils slithering like snakes as a beast - a Dragon - rose in the distance. Grand, like a monument of leaf and vine, and in front of it - a pair of lights. Caithe, one of the Firstborn. And himself. Images of the eldest Knight of Thorn, Riannoc, his blade of alabaster bark glowing with the light of hope. Caladbolg itself, which now rested in his care. And on the other end, a lich, his skeletal hands commanding death like a putrid orchestra - drowning the First Knight in a sea of corpses.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray.

The raven flew ever onward, unfurling a sea of memories. And he ran after it, hand outstretched, mouth forming a silent call.

Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way.

It weaved through the darkness like a lone bolt of lightning through blackened storm clouds. He took Nenah's hand, pulling her along - afraid to let go, but infinitely more scared to lose track of the light. And they ran. „My eyes are - they're open, Nenah!”

„Good! Let yourself feel it, and let it wash over you. He who follows his purpose will never truly lose it!”

Awaken from a quiet sleep, hear the whispering of the wind. Awaken as the silence grows in a solitude of the night.

From the dark, twisting shapes. The stench of rot and clattering of bone as a tide of Zhaitan's legions marched against the army of the Pact. Mazdak, the Accursed, fallen at last at his hand – his first Hunt fulfilled. Sieran's parting words as the gates closed. The Sunless' advance and the fall of Claw Island. The tears shed that day, and the promises made to live on in spite of them. And then, in the end, their banners, raised high upon the towers - him and Trahearne, side by side.

Darkness spreads through all the land and your weary eyes open silently

Sunsets have forsaken all, the most far off horizons.

And again, they charged. Roar of gunfire and steel. Wyld Hunts that seemed all but impossible, keeping steadfast hand in hand. And the heart of it all, cleansed and beating again, as he remembered holding him for the first time. And laughing.

Nightmares come when shadows grow. Eyes close and heartbeats slow.

The assault on Arah. The thundering of war engines and the roar of airships. Destiny's Edge standing united, and him leading the final push. Zhaitan's death throes shattering the mountain, sending the Dragon itself crashing from blighted heavens towards the shoreline. Victory, and the first kiss shared in the dim light of a study. Why was he crying? Like he was already aware what came next.

Fear not this night, you will not go astray. Though shadows fall, still the stars find their way.

„Mordremoth!”

It all unfolded in quick succession. Ceara's fall; Scarlet Briar. The assault on Lion's Arch. Aurene's egg and Caithe's betrayal. The disaster of Maguuma, all that death and then - past the horror of it all - holding his dear's broken, dying body as the foul magic bled out of his system in rivers of gold. The Thorn trembled in his hands, but he knew not to let it go. The day his eyes turned cold. He felt Nenah's hand squeeze his own.

And you can always be strong. Lift your voice with the first light of dawn.

His hatred. His bitterness. And Her light, which saved him.

The founding of Dragon's Watch. The awakening of Primordus and Jormag. Braham's burden and the wrath in his words as he snapped. A bridge, burned to ashes - a wound that they would no longer have the chance to mend.

And Her, coming into the world at last. Caithe's words, and her vow. To lay down her life for -

„Aurene.” He found himself repeating his own words. „Her name is Aurene.”

Dawn's just a heartbeat away. Hope's just a sunrise away.

The rise of Lazarus. A mystery of the great deceiver. Climbing the spire as everything around them began to burn, and yet they knew the only way was up. He knew the only was was up.

It had always been like that, hmm, Commander?

The raven disappeared into the smoke, and he dove after it. Coughing, as though his lungs remembered the feeling. White leaves singed black and then he lost her in the fire. „Nenah! Where are you!” He could no longer feel her hand. His fellow spark had disappeared, and only Balthazar's pyre remained. The planks behind him crackled and crumbled as burning heat cut off the way back. So he climbed. Following each white feather. Humming Mother’s lullaby.

„...Have your friends abandoned you?” He could hear the God's mockery in his ears. His oppression, his glee, the sadistic pleasure he took in prolonging his every breath. And then, Aurene. Reaching for him. Damning herself just for a chance to save him.

And still, in the end, she was taken, and he died with no one to hold him. His last words frozen in his throat. But now, he screamed. He screamed and wept and his eyes shot open only to find his fellow spirit clutching his hand tightly within hers. And he looked into coal orbs and in his tormented mind, they seemed to flash crimson, shadowed by a crown of horns.

„...Balthazaaaaar!!” He howled like an animal, thrashing. A hand pushed down on his chest, keeping him on his back, before pulling his head into her lap. „Shh. Shh. There, there. Just breathe. Like you remember. Even like this, it helps.”

Tears streamed freely down silver skin as he wept in terror, clawed hand outstretched towards the sky. But there was no Aurene. No dark clouds cutting him off from the world. No Balthazar, staring down at him like yet another broken toy, balancing his blade over his heart. So, he did the only thing he could. He cried, allowing the mentor spirit to gently pet back his leaves, quelling the sobs that shook his body.

„...I remember. I remember.” He repeated, the most quiet of whimpers. Wet, haunted gold found umber again as he spoke. „Balthazar - he wants revenge on the other gods, and he's going to use Aurene to get it. I... I have to convince the Judge to send me back.”

„Rest, silver tongue. Death is not something to outwit.”

„You don't understand.” He gathered himself enough to stand and walk, even as his knees shook with every step. „That bastard will destroy Tyria. All of it. This isn't about me and my ego, for fuck's sake!” The Commander broke into a sprint. Moving as fast as his legs would carry him, causing the Elonian spirit to struggle to keep up. „He wants the strength of the Elder Dragons for himself, and doesn't care that killing them now will doom the world!”

„I see.” Nenah responded. There was deep concern upon her face, now, as the true weight of all that had transpired took the time to fully settle and click into place. „...He has ravaged this place. Stolen spirits and used them to bolster his army. He has let something horrible into this place, something beyond even Grenth's jurisdiction.”

Maelmordha paused, stern gold meeting her gaze. „The Beast. Come. We need to move!”

As soon as they arrived in the Judging Ground, the grand spirit rose again from the shadows, a visage of skull and green fire ready to welcome them both. Recognizing Nenah and sensing the distress within her companion, he turned his full attention to Maelmordha.

„Grenth welcomes all, noble spirit. Step forward, and I will send you to your appointed place.”

But the necromancer had other ideas. He took exactly one step in the Judge's direction, setting his boot down with absolute conviction. „You must let me go back.”

For a moment, there was absolute silence. If the Judge could produce an expression, he would surely have frowned. A spectral sigh laced his words when he next spoke, weighting them carefully. „...I see you clearly now, Commander. Balthazar killed you, but you would face him again?

„Yes.” The sylvari replied immediately, filled with fervent - perhaps even crazed - determination. Yes, a thousand times yes. Even when it hurt. He couldn't just let her... He grit his teeth, releasing a quivering breath.

„Balthazar has done great harm here.” Grenth's right hand confirmed what Nenah had already told him. „The magic he uses to hijack spirits shakes the foundation of the Domain of the Lost. But I... cannot help you.”

No..! No, this wasn't going to end this way. He would not let it. By the Tree, he had to bargain.

Mael took another step, lacing fingers together as though in prayer and slowly shaking his hands with every word. „If I could only get back... if I could defeat him, it might undo the damage he's done in both our worlds.” There. He was officially bargaining with Death himself. Or, rather, his right hand, but the point still stood.

The Judge sighed painfully, sending ripples through the aether. „It is too late. No life remains in your body. Unless...”

Unless? Fucking hell, he was actually getting somewhere.

„When Balthazar left, a fearsome beast, the Eater of Souls, rose to prey on the waning life energy of the spirits here....”

Nenah moved closer. „That's got to be the screams I heard in the distance. So, it is true, after all.”

„...If you were to defeat the beast and claim its power, that life energy might be strong enough to reanimate your body.” The Judge continued. „Allowing you to go back. But, if you were to fail, the beast would consume your entirety. I could grant you no final reward or punishment. Your spirit would simply cease to be. Do you.. really want this, Commander? You will be changed. There is no other way. As a necromancer, you know what this entails.”

He did. Oh, he did. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sound froze in his throat.

Riannoc...! He tried to shake the memory from the Dream. Lose the ghost of the man whose Wyld Hunt he once bore. No, this was bigger than him. Bigger than all of them. That bastard had Aurene, and if she...

Maelmordha clenched his fists. Gaze downturned, shrouded in white leaves. His shoulders shook with the weight of the choice placed in front of him. With the phantom of his people's very first nightmare. Did he... have the right? To do this? And if so, who gave him it? Who allowed this man to play God in his own right?

He supposed the answer was standing right in front of him. Gazing with green orbs, waiting patiently for his reply. „Grenth does not take kindly to those who defy his domain. But he is willing to forgive this one transgression, in the name of both our worlds. You will become something different, and if you ever go astray, you will no longer be entitled to your final reward.”

„Diabolistic magic...” He muttered under his breath. His fellow spark looked on with worry. Softly, her hand once again found his shoulder, resting upon it with comforting weight. „Whatever you decide, I will help you see it through til the end. So, think - for what does your purpose call?”

Did it call for him to fall this low? And yet... if it was the only way to save Aurene - to save Tyria, then did he ever really have a choice at all? He took a breath, and his golden gaze rose anew, finding ghastly green.

„...I accept that risk. I have to go back to finish what I started.”

Clawed gauntlets rose into the air, the Judge's mask angled towards the jade-hued skies. „Then in Grenth's name, o blessed sinner, conquer the Eater of Souls and live again! Remind Balthazar that none escape judgement.”

With a snap of the servant's fingers, crimson fabric set on viridian fire, and in an instant, his body was framed in darksteel. A long, black cape extended from beneath the upturned spikes of his new pauldrons, ornate gauntlets wrapping around his forearms and tall, metal greaves fitting upon his legs. A disc of magic flared to life over his sternum, like an eye of Death itself.

He took a moment to inspect his new armor, finding it a perfect fit. „...Thank you.” He gasped, unsure at first what to make of the gift. And yet he could feel no ill magics from it - nothing meant to limit or control him, only accentuate his existing power.

„Let this be proof of Grenth's favor. An exceptional honor, in exchange for your willing sacrifice. Go, blessed sinner, and may your soul remain your own through this dire tribulation.”

„It will. You have my word.” And he turned around, features dark and the Thorn on his back ready.

After all, he who bore Caladbolg would not fall, so long as his desire was pure. Funny how that turned out. Did the sword's apparent curse carry on in death? He'd have to find out.

„Allow me to lead you, Maelmordha. The Beast stalks the deepest shadows of this land. Those spirits we've met earlier...”

„...It may already be too late for them.” He finished the teacher's thought. „I'm sorry, Nenah. But I cannot allow you to go with me, this time.” If he were to be devoured... ah, would it not simply be due payment for his hubris...? But her? She had done nothing but help him. „This is a journey I must take alone.”

„Even when dying alone was your greatest fear?” She retorted, causing the necromancer to seize up. He did not look at her, simply continuing to walk forth into the darkness. „...Thank you, Nenah. But I will take this from here.”

„As you wish, blessed sinner.” And just like that, her footsteps no longer accompanied his.

And in the deepest depths where even the raven did not delve, he found it. A hideous demon of blue fire, contorting into whatever fears his mind held to finally settle on the form of a Mouth of Zhaitan. Towering, with rows of fangs ready to snatch him up where he stood. How did one fight hunger incarnate..? He drew the Thorn, and charged.

The same rules did not apply here as in the waking world. This was not only a fight of tooth against thorn, but a dance of nightmare. Like every worst part of him, reflected right back in his face. The shadows had been nothing, compared to this. They only wanted his name, after all.

Oh, the Beast? It wanted everything. To strip his soul, down to the marrow. And in the end, it had been decided all along. To conquer the Mouth was to embrace its hunger. To take for himself another name. Even if he had to become a worse version of himself, he would do it in every life. His right hand's fingers traced a symbol on his heart. Chanting an ancient curse, the same forbidden verse he spent his first five years researching. The Commander's spirit ignited in black smoke, Caladbolg a Reaper's scythe.

...Do you really want this, Commander?

You wouldn't have gotten so far if not for your hunger.

...A hunger to succeed. To be recognized. To have power. You greedy creature, always reaching for more than you can swallow until the God of Flames finally made you choke on it. And yet, you'd return? To do it all over again? Don't you see how far you've already fallen - from a bright eyed Valiant to a wolf gripping tight the reins of all those who would dare question and oppose you? You're a killer, you know, right? You're never satisfied. And no matter what you do and how much you achieve, it will never be enough.

You can drink til you're sick but never til you're satisfied. You will lose your Dream but your Hunt shall never end. Is this what you want?

To save her. Yes. I will do anything.

Will you be anything?

Yes.

Waken then, Fell Wolf, and hunt.

Kill Balthazar, and devour.

The monstrous body before him fell, dissolving into shadow. His scythe still lodged in its burning core, he felt the cold flicker climb up his weapon and touch ground with his skin.

The demon's magic flooded his senses. The world swirled in front of his eyes, a gaze of spectral gold darting around in terror. He saw the lost sparks return, freed from the beast's belly, as they all moved in unison towards Judgement. The Domain breathed a sight of relief - and then he felt his chest rip open.

And he screamed. By the Pale Tree he fucking screamed. Feeling every second of the blade digging into and parting his flesh, crushing organs and searing his insides. Except now, the blackness offered no relief. There was no merciful veil of Death to take the pain away, to ease his body's last gasp as embers took his lungs. And the flames did not burn his throat and steal his voice. At some point, the agonal screech turned into a howl, and his eyes wept spectral light.

Seizing, he fell to his knees. His armor glowed a deep cerulean - and more metal enveloped the Commander's form. He scarcely registered it, even when links of chain snaked round his heaving chest and hooked into the gaping cavity of his wound.

It was almost a mockery. Almost a voice, sneering into his ear. This is what you are. Do you regret it yet?

„Aaaargghh!” His own voice burst forth in strained cries. Calling names as though their owners could ever help him. „Pale Mother! Aurene! Grenth!”

No one will save you now, either. You chose this. Maelmordha, you poor, poor fool.

It felt like ages but the pain relented just enough to leave the fallen Knight gasping and wheezing in a ghastly approximation of life. Collecting his stolen breath, registering a familiar sensation upon his cheeks before he ever realized he was crying. Again. And only then did he get to truly, wholly gaze upon his form - the warped image of his own demise, seared forever into his soul.

Trembling fingers probed at the edges of his wound - the very one that killed him - and found fangs. Rows of umbral teeth, licked by flickering tongues of blue fire. This had to be... was this real? Absently, he reached inside, half expecting the slick wetness of entrails. Instead, he found only cold nothingness, and a pulse at the core of it all. A rhythmic thrum of magic where his heart had been, just barely out of reach, yet begging for his touch.

Focus, the magic whispered. The Alchemy bends to your whim. Death's defector, defiler of Nature. So he did. And the dark became corporeal.

Transfixed, he pulled on the object, and out emerged a sword of midnight. Blue veins running along its surface, magic pulsing to the beat of the orb that lay at its center; Connecting the hilt and the blade. And he felt his new heartbeat, bare within his hand. Bound to his maw with chain like some eldritch stem, bridging the gap between man and demon. The first fang of the bound Wolf, and then the second - Dromi and Lædingr.

They slotted into his grip as though he had never been meant to hold anything else. Extensions of his ambition and his sin. These blades, they felt nothing like Caladbolg. Where the Mother's Thorn tasted of light and grief, these weapons? They were forged of naught but gnawing hunger, pulled straight from the pit of his stomach.

„I'm...” He was almost afraid to have a witness. But he did. And slowly, he lifted his gaze again, finding his fellow spirit staring back with what could only be described as somber pity. „...Nenah, why did you come... I'm...”

What am I?

A Dreamer. A Valiant. A son. A Knight. A Commander. A Champion. A Dragonkiller. A Lichslayer. A... his sight was blurry.

„I'm... so...”

Static enveloped his mind. Ghastly blue light burned within his eyes.

„I'm... so... hurrggh....”

He was ravenous. He - it - the Soul Eater.

Someone called out. Their words but white noise in the void of his thoughts.

Slowly, he walked. Tips of his swords dragging against the ground and gouging the earth. The magic inside him pulsed like the want that moved his jaws. The desire that now held together his spirit. This unholy, aberrant, ugly spirit. Pounding in his split-open chest, the war-drum of instinct drowning out every alarm bell in his mind.

Devour. This is what you are. This is what you chose. Didn't you?

„...Remember...”

A voice. Did it matter? They all screamed at the precipice between worlds. Their words made no difference.

„...Remember who you are...! Remember why you did this..!”

Aurene? No, she was...

Who - whose name was this? What was a name?

„Blessed sinner..!”

Who?

There was the sensation of weight wrapping around his wrists. He growled, lips twitching. And in that moment, his mind surfaced - searching for something, anything, to keep itself afloat.

„Remember your name! Maelmordha..!”

And he snapped back. Blue eyes back to yellow, swords dissolving and chest stitching shut. A gasp, as though his soul yet remembered the rush of air in his lungs. And he found dark eyes, holding the gaze of his own - a lifeline for a dead man.

The eyes of a woman who never knew him. A woman who had nothing to gain from this, and everything to lose.

„...Why..?” He mouthed. Utter silence in his mind aside from that singular question. „...Why did you risk your li - your existence? I could have -” Mael scowled, bringing gloved hands before his face. His digits shook with the strain of keeping himself together.

He could have eaten her. Erased her. Even now she caused this beast's mouth to water. A soul - a light - pure magic. He knew now how Dragons felt, and if the hunger hurt so much, then were they ever truly to blame..?

There was conviction in Nenah's eyes as she once again took hold of the sylvari's wrists, pulling them down as to force the fallen Commander to meet her gaze. „This isn't about... what you could have done to me. Nor what could happen to you. This world is falling apart at the seams because of Balthazar. I believe... I'm here, because Kormir wanted me to help you.”

„Kormir..?”

The Goddess of Truth who could only smile sadly as she departed. No actions taken, only words of hollow solace - as she abandoned them all. Abandoned her people. He wasn't human, but witnessing the heartbreak on Kasmeer's face? He might as well have been. „Kormir left us. Left Tyria behind. The Gods have relinquished all claim to this realm -”

„And yet you're here. And you'll live again. With Grenth's own blessing. So who's to say they really left us? Who's to say they abandoned us when they still guide us?”

Mael closed his mouth. The teacher was right. This was an angle he hadn't truly stopped to consider - and what right did he have to stomp down on the hope that still remained for the people? Living or dead, they all needed a light to lead the way. Gods and spirits for men, Dream for sylvari. Heroes and concepts to hold onto - invariably, no one ever wanted to go alone into the dark.

To trudge on, not knowing what awaits on the other side. The necromancer's voice came in a soft whisper.

„...You're right. I'm sorry. And... thank you.” Maelmordha swallowed, desperately pushing down his racing thoughts. He forced an apologetic smile, a last look at the fellow spirit who had accompanied him for so long. „So... I guess this is goodbye.”

„So it is.” She returned a smile of her own. In that moment, the humble teacher truly looked like the Goddess she so loved. And he could see that love burn bright. It would be the beacon that lit her way to her final reward, far, far away from the war that took her and those she mentored. A war he'd return to, damned as he was - to make sure it took no one else. Perhaps it was a fool's notion, but a chuckle broke through the silence nonetheless.

„Good luck wherever you're going, and... Pray for me, would you?”

„I will, Commander. Trust in Grenth. And know that everything happens for a reason.” She let go, a final nod offered his way before she turned around, heading towards the Judge.

And so, Maelmordha turned his gaze towards the precipice of worlds, knowing he now possessed the strength to bridge them. But one more voice vied for his attention - someone he unfortunately recognized. Once again demanding to be the center of the world, now with the added bonus of kissing ass. A smirk crept onto the Commander's features.

„Look who's groveling. Genuflect, Your Majesty.”

And so began the worst lich feud in Tyrian history, but that was a tale for another time.

”Gods, I... I can't even bear to look at him.” The mesmer's body shook with stifled sobs. Tears charting dark lines down pale skin - washing away the paint from her lids.

Tribune Brimstone could only frown, jaws parting to offer some form of solace just before he remembered he was never any good with words. And so, lips fell over fangs again, safekeeping solemn silence. „Yeah... yeah.”

He always did make everything worse, didn't he...? Green orbs wandered back to the proof of his failure. The haphazard veil that covered the worst of the Commander's wounds was soaked in sap. Empty eyes now resting closed, the poor bastard looked almost eerily peaceful. Almost as though he were merely resting. It didn't suit him to be so dark in the evening, though. That ruby light was gone and the soldier in Rytlock - all he had ever been - knew better than to dwell on death as humans did. It wasn't sleep. No gods to kiss it all better. And all that blood and gore couldn't be dressed in words in a way that made it pretty.

„He's done so much and I can't... I can't even look...”

Kas was still crying. Rytlock winced. Clawed hand hovered over her form, as though debating whether his touch could offer any superficial semblance of comfort. Ultimately, it retreated, and his tail flicked uncomfortably. With a deep rumble, he excavated his voice.

„...He wouldn't have wanted you to.” There was no point. He was gone anyway, so it didn't matter. At least he wasn't in pain anymore. And, well, Commander never did want anyone else to have to suffer for no reason. „Shit, how we gonna break this to Taimi...”

„That's what I'm worried about. Kid won't take this too well.” Canach sighed, raising himself up from his kneeling position. „Aren't you the Watch's second? Should I call you Commander, yet?”

„Shut it, weed.” The snarl came on its own before he ever had the chance to reel in his anger. A growl seeped past the Blood Tribune's teeth, and he pinched the bridge of his snout. „Look, just - just let me think. Or make the call yourself if you have so much yapping left in you.”

Uncharacteristically, Canach merely sat quietly away to the side, closer to the body. For a brief moment, the Secondborn's stern gaze met that of the charr, before both men promptly looked away. It was clear the former convict had no interest in petty arguments at the time - whatever words he did have locked firm behind his teeth.

„I'll do it.” A meek voice picked up from the back. Rytlock's head turned, only for green orbs to meet dim blues. Lady Meade looked positively pathetic. And yet, though her eyes were framed by streaks of runny makeup, her expression was one of tired determination. Rytlock chuffed.

„You sure? You aren't looking too-”

„I said I'd do it. So, let me.”

Silence. Kasmeer raised her hand to her ear to dial on the device, and the comms crackled to life. One last shaky breath, and a tiny voice came through.

„Yes? Hello? Guys, is everything alright?” The small prodigy chirped in a fervent tone. Her voice cracked towards the end and Kasmeer Meade could feel her heart crack in tandem. „...Please tell me everything's alright.”

„Oh, Taimi. Baby, I'm so sorry.”

„Kas? Kas - I - Kas tell me what's - No no no please don't tell me he's -”

Despite the fresh tears tugging at her waterline, the mesmer knew she had to say it. „Shhh, I'm so sorry. Mael's gone, Taimi.”

It was as though the full weight of it only really sank in at that moment. Rytlock's glare seemed to actively want to bury itself in the dirt, while Canach turned away to gaze silently off into the distance. Even Kasmeer felt a fresh knot twist within her gut only to release, all that horrible, horrible tension burning like living fire the very second she heard Taimi's voice quiver on the other end of the line.

„No.. no, no.. Kas this isn't funny...” She sniffled, and the mage of Lyssa could oh so easily visualize the little girl shaking her head over in her lab. Just like when she argued with Phlunt, or any other scientist. Always so very confident in herself, and what she believed in.

„No, this isn't FUNNY, don't LIE to me, he's FINE! He's the Commander - he's - he's FINE - go check! Do the light test on his eyes - t-take his pulse - s-sylvari don't have easily accessible carotids b-but -”

„Taimi...”

Another click, and Canach joined the line. „Taimi, there wasn't even a need to check.”

„Canach!” Kasmeer could only gasp at the swordsman's blunt intrusion. „Canach, I swear on the Six -”

„Make that Five. He's dead, kid. That's a whole God that got him. Could tell the moment we looked.”

„Fucking burn me, have some tact!” Rytlock snapped, earning a scornful glance from the sylvari. The tension could very well be cut with a knife.

„Or what? Thorns, sometimes you have to be direct. Grow some spine, you people!”

„That's a CHILD!”

„...I'm still on the line. I-I’m not a child! I can hear you all. I'm sorry. I j-just -” Taimi's voice broke again, dissolving into a series of wheezy sobs. Kas's heart dropped. She was having an episode. The mesmer wasted no time in briefly disconnecting her communicator.

„Shut UP! Both of you!” The outburst was so out of character that both Rytlock and Canach promptly fell silent. Having achieved her immediate goal, the mesmer tapped the device again. „Talk to me, Taimi.” Walk her through this, Kasmeer, just like Mael used to. Don't let him down, now. This is the least you can do.

„I'm - I-I'm just... I'm so sorry I screamed.” The teenager sniffled, interrupting herself with a hiccup. „I-I knew the odds were bad... I just didn't want it to be true...”

Lady Meade smiled painfully, mustering up every bit of comfort in her voice. Oh, how she wished she could be there with her - lay her hand gently upon the asura's head and pet her hair. Just like he always did.

„It's alright. Everyone reacts in their own way. It isn't your fault. Shh. Shh. It's okay...”

„If I - I-if I weren't taking a break at the time I could have noticed the energy readings were shifting and he - B-Balthazar - was changing course - and we could have warned him before the storm set in and comms died -”

„...You know this isn't true. You can't always work. If you had overworked yourself, you could have missed something else, baby. We may all have been dead. You could have gotten hurt from overdoing it.” The only thing she could do now was speak and listen. Between herself and the Dawnborn, she wasn't ever really sure who was better at talking people down. „...He wouldn't have wanted this, alright? Commander - Mael - wouldn't have wanted you to aggravate your condition. None of us do.”

„H-he was the first person who really, truly took me seriously!” Taimi was spiraling. „What I do is my choice! And I could have saved him! I could have... Alchemy...”

Her tired body was giving out, too drained to argue in vain with herself. Deep down, she knew. She knew that she had been powerless to stop it. That even the Dragonslayer had no hope to kill a God, and it was a childish thought to even entertain. That deep down, Mael himself knew he was marching to his death, but his Wyld Hunt drove him onward anyway.

Just like shackles and chain. Being pulled ever towards the gallows, with no ability to run. And yet, he shouldered his fate with a smile.

Even when she watched him grow bitter and jaded he always found it in himself to smile for her.

„...You did your best. That is more than enough.” Kas' lids fell shut, forcing out the last tear that still lingered in the corner of her vision. „He's proud of you. I know.”

Wherever he was. If he was... anywhere. She didn't have the heart nor the stomach to consider the full implications of Grenth leaving. When she next opened her eyes, her vision was swimming - and not because of the desert heat, which had long since given way to a brisk evening chill. Taimi seemed to have calmed down, and only the occasional quiet sniffle still registered on their shared frequency. The Meade sat down on a rock, fearing her own legs too feeble to keep her upright for long.

„...So, what do we do?” It was Rytlock who next broke the silence. „It's late and there may still be some Forged in the area. Wouldn't exactly want a bullet through the skull and an early ticket back to the Mists. Would hate to disappoint Commander like that.”

Again, he thought to add. He bit his tongue.

„...I'll stay here and get a breath of fresh air.” Canach sighed, the usual edge to his tone replaced by bitter, cold apathy. „If you want to go back to the ship, then go. I need to collect my thoughts.”

„I'll cloak us, just to be safe. Let Fidus know to post sentries and be on a lookout for trouble.” Exhaustion was not going to stop Kasmeer from being cautious, and this was simple magic, anyway. With a wave of her hand and reality rippling beneath her force, the top of the Spire was encased in an invisible bubble. Reflecting sight, just like a one way mirror. If anyone else wandered inside, she'd know.

In the end, none of them had it in themselves to go back - not yet. A quiet vigil for the fallen. For a leader. For a friend

It felt like several hours had passed. The night was silent and uneventful, an air of tranquility fallen over where tragedy had struck. Ash and dust long since scattered to the wind, there was scarcely a trace of the battle. Only charred foliage, cooled armor strewn about here and there, and three broken people trying to decide where to go from there. But the night, though quiet, held danger nonetheless. Teasing fate was a fool's errand in these lands.

„It's high time we move. I'll... get the body. Set a course for Amnoon.” The revenant spoke, and the airship's crew began preparations for takeoff. Kasmeer and Canach wordlessly nodded, their gazes following Rytlock as he walked up once again towards the center of the Spire.

...The very last thing Kasmeer Meade expected was to hear Rytlock holler her name with borderline panic in his voice.

„Uh, Kas?!”

„What is it?!” Both her and Canach were already running from the deck back to the plateau, weapons drawn and half prepared to find Forged come to hunt them down and finish what Balthazar started.

But Forged did not have blue eyes. Whatever stared back at them from the very center of the Spire was no soldier of Fire. A figure shrouded in shadow, darkness itself gathering where it stood to leave its features obscured and nigh unrecognizable. Stark blue eyes seemingly lost interest in gazing into Rytlock's own in favor of inspecting the sheet of gold-soaked cloth held in one hand.

„Get back!” The charr ignited Sohothin, wide arc of his sword a warning to both sides. „Where is the bo - where is he?!”

The stranger's head turned, shifting shadows offering a glimpse of white hair. Aether warped their words, like the Mists themselves speaking. „Rytlock...”

And yet, the sound of his name in their - in his lips was recognizeable beyond all doubt. „Kasmeer! What in the hells! Is this one of yours or am I going mad?!”

„What do you mean mine - you can't be - since when do I -” The mesmer was tripping over her words, staff clutched tightly. She could smell necromancy anywhere. Jory, and Mael - she's spent so long around them, but this felt familiar and different at the very same time. A darkness she knew well, but somehow wrong. A twisted image of Grenth's magic that sent alarms going off in her brain and overwhelmed her thoughts. That aura was oppressive.

„Is that...” Canach mouthed, incredulous.

„No. It's not.” Brimstone bared his fangs, tail lashing wildly against the ground. „I've been there. I know what lurks there. This isn't him. It's a demon.”

The figure's eyes seemed almost sad. He dismissed the notion.

„Grrraaaahh!!” With a mighty leap, he charged, fury burning in his eyes - challenging the reflection of the ghost fire that razed Ascalon. If this beast thought he'd let it defile the Commander's body, it was dead fucking wrong.

Split seconds before Sohothin could sink its fangs into a gap in darksteel armor, the stranger's chest opened. A jagged maw of teeth.

„Pale Mother!” Canach gasped, and Kasmeer covered her mouth. Taimi came online and hurled a hundred questions over the comms.

Their swords met with a spectral chime. Like a rung bell, living flame against one cold and dead. That strength. How did so much power fit in such a small, feeble sylvari body? The charr grit his teeth, air hissing past his brandished fangs. A deadlock.

„Rytlock! Stand down!” The stranger repeated, forcibly. The Tribune's mind flashed back to their last fight. Pain and rage seethed in jade orbs, muscles pushing with all their might against the single sword that halted his advance. „...No. I won't let you. You don't deceive me!”

Blue eyes that gazed from where gold had once been narrowed. „I thought I had made myself clear before, Tribune. I won't take no for an answer.”

A pulse of dark magic repelled Sohothin, forcing Rytlock back. His weight shifted dangerously, hind claws struggling to find purchase. Green orbs shot wide open - he was exposed, and the dark blade was more than capable of ending him right then and there.

So he focused, a last ditch-effort; With a mighty beat, crystalline wings sprouted from his back - the Dragon Prophet's own visage bursting from the Mists to lend him her strength.

And then she just... stopped. The Commander - the stranger's free hand was outstretched, and he felt every nerve in his body refuse to listen. „What in the...” Some blasted chains - wrapped around him, wrapped around even Glint before her fleeting facet dissipated.

He felt familiar magic swallow him in rosy light and he was yanked back, appearing in a portal next to Kasmeer. Her and Canach had both stepped forward to shield him with their bodies, but made no move to advance. Hesitating? Now, of all times..?! He was about to tell them off before he noticed that very same spell binding them in place, every fibre of their bodies frozen and helpless to the fates.

„Burn me! Rrraahh!!” He raged against his restraints, soul reaching out through the Mists to call for aid. Any aid. What was a charr to do to get some fucking reinforcements around these parts?! Glint, Jalis, even the blasted Shiro Tagachi or Mallyx, it made no difference. The voices in his head fell silent, unwilling or unable to manifest his magic. He was stuck, and this monster was going to kill them all.

Balthazar didn't even have to get his hands any dirtier and come finish the job. Some random fucking demon was all it took. I'm sorry, Commander. It seems I can't stop messing up.

But the killing blow did not come. The blade that emerged out of the portal mouth upon the bastard's chest simply went right back in like his body was some twisted scabbard. Split open by a God's wrath and this demon was hell-bent on making a mockery of even the Commander's death. What a joke.

„...Rytlock...”

„Stop it. Just, get it over with. I've some dignity to keep.” His fur stood on end, hearing that voice when he knew it wasn't real.

„If I wanted to, I would have done so already. Pale fucking Mother, Rytlock.”

The Shroud relented, and the shadows fell away. And so, they got a chance to see him, really see him, for themselves. No anger nor malice contorted his features. Only sadness. A deep, profound sadness in haunted eyes that extinguished the blue flame within to once again welcome gold. Those eyes that had once fallen dim and unseeing weren't fully dead. There was no light inside, not anymore, but... there was a spark, nonetheless. A sliver of cerulean that danced inside his pupils - just like the color of his glow, a stark contrast against the crimson they had come to know. And above all, he just looked so... tired.

„What's going on?!” Taimi was almost going into hysteria on the channel.

The chain magic dissolved, sending Rytlock stumbling a few steps forward. Some animalistic side begged him to charge again, but the desolate look within the Commander's eyes gave him pause. Similarly, Kasmeer and Canach made no move, staring with fear and worry at the scene unfolding before them. Mael - no, he couldn't let it deceive - was he..? - opened his arms, palms facing the starlit sky. Exposing his chest. Clad in some strange, new armor, seemingly spawned from the Mists just like the one worn by the Blood Tribune. A circle of magic spun slowly upon his sternum, remnants of blue fire easing into necromantic green.

„ ...That's Grenth's regalia. Like those given to the Seven Reapers.” Kas observed.

„It's Grenth who let me go back.” Maelmordha nodded at the mesmer, gratitude in amber orbs. His voice somber, but so unmistakably his. „Even in this state.”

The asura finally managed to shove herself back into the center of attention. Her words shot forth like machine gun fire inbetween panicked breaths. „Wait, w-wait wait wait - I DEMAND an explanation right now! If this is some sick prank I- I...”

Mael reached for his own device. Luckily, it was still in one piece. His tired smile was evident in his tone. „Hi, Taimi.”

„...Hi, Taimi? You almost DIE and „hi, Taimi” is all I get?! What's going on! You all said the Commander was dead! I flipping told you! I told you to check you - you -”

„I... I was dead, Taimi. But now I'm back.”

„Yeah, but that's not how „dead” works.”

„She makes a good point. You don't just go back to being alive like you go back to being your usual cranky self after a night of drinking. Kind of defeats the definition of „dead”, if anyone wants my opinion.” Canach interjected, sword lowered but not holstered. Skepticism in a gaze of violet framed by thorns. But also hope, try as he might to hide it. „...We checked, Commander, and you were very much no longer with us.”

„Here's the catch. I'm not alive.” The Commander let out a forlorn sigh, arms crossed over his back as he turned back around and slowly walked over to where his veil lay. He bent, once again taking it in a gloved hand - feeling the weight of his lifeblood.

„You're not?” The Secondborn raised a ridged brow. „I'm getting confused here. Is this some sort of last visitation to collect the money I owe you? ...Do you still need the money?”

„You're not?” Taimi repeated. „B-but... but.. buh...”

„Oh no...” Kasmeer seemed to realize the implications first.

„Listen.” The necromancer was back to doing what he did best. The party fell silent and focused on his words. „...I'm... still me. I've got this. I'm still the Commander. Still -”

That's right. Remember your name. It may well be the last thing that remains of you. He shivered.

„...Still Maelmordha.” The sylvari finally discarded the bloodied cloth from his grasp.

„Those damn teeth dare to disagree.” Rytlock growled, frustration bleeding through his words. Had he no fur to hide them, his knuckles would have been white with how tightly he gripped Sohothin. And yet, despite the anger, all the chaos within him, he silently prayed to legends and gods he did not believe in. „...What are you, really?”

„A lich.” With revulsion in his tone, the Commander answered. Even now, he felt the true weight of it all was lost on him. Too much to process all at once, too little time - this was a wound which would open later.

He stepped forward, eyes trained on Rytlock with such intensity the charr seemed to shrink back, uncertain. With one finger, the sylvari lifted the very tip of Sohothin. Angling its blazing spikes to face his sternum, as though knowing it would not strike him. „Which means killing me isn't going to stick. And the fire that took my life? Don't plan to let it burn me twice.”

„A lich..? Like Palawa Joko...? That makes no sense.” Kasmeer spoke up, hesitant and afraid. Had Maelmordha still a heart of his own, it would have shattered against the terror in her words. „Grenth doesn't approve of breaking the balance of Death. He wouldn't have -”

„There's one thing Grenth approves of even less than me breaking his and my own moral code, and that is Balthazar ravaging the Mists and ripping the souls of the dead right out to fill his Forged quota.” The Commander's voice was laced with venom. Before the Watch could blather on in circles for even longer, the fallen necromancer growled. „Listen! The bastard has Aurene.”

„We know...” Kasmeer replied, gaze somber. „He was taking her south toward Kralkatorrik when we arrived. We tried to stop him, but there were too many Forged.” The sheer wall of steel and fire cordoning off passage into the Desolation prevented the slightest notion of following the fallen God. Otherwise, they would have already done so.

„And I hate being the bearer of bad news, but it appears that Balthazar has managed to build up quite a formidable army.” Canach added, swordwhip crackling as though on cue at his side. So eager for violence, but its owner was not as hasty to a grave of his own.

„He does seem to make 'em faster than we can break 'em.” Rytlock bared his fangs, fist hitting the palm of his opposite paw.

„That's why we need an army of our own.” His trademark smirk was back, a devilish spark already dancing in his eyes. „I met someone in the Domain of the Lost who told me where I can borrow one.”

„Borrow”... an army?”

„Domain of the Lost?” The elder sylvari questioned, knowing he would likely not get an answer. „My, my, Commander, back from the dead and already scheming. It really is you.”

The occasional sniffling on the channel gave way to a happy giggle. „Yay, we have a plan!”

„Kas, have you got anything that can change our appearances?” Mael continued casually, as though he hadn't just suggested the most ridiculous idea known to Tyria.

„Yes, but nothing that can make the four of us look like an army.” Naturally, she was skeptical, and yet only waiting to hear just what kind of deranged plot they were pulling off next.

„It doesn't have to.” The Commander gave the verbal equivalent of a shrug. „It just needs to disguise us as someone else... after I secure our cover story.”

„Okay. I'll be standing by.” Setting her doubts aside, Lady Meade took a breath - getting ready to place her trust in this new version of her guildmaster. She wiped off her makeup-stained face, making room for a small smile. Blue orbs met gold, and she could feel his relief and gratitude. The necromancer offered a nod, and the mesmer returned it. Finally, things were going somewhere.

„And I'll be at the casino in Amnoon. If you can come back from the dead, I want to double my wager on you.” Canach smirked, that same sly look on his face he so often shared with his Commander. Mael simply nodded again, and the elder headed for the airship.

„Fine. I'll get word to you all when the time is right. For now, let's get the ship moving somewhere safe.” A brief scowl shadowed his features when he considered having a repeat of the prior conversation with Fidus and his crew. A man was scarcely allowed to come back without being asked questions, after all.

For the last time, he went back to where he had fallen - collecting the singed Thorn. Its bark was charred, leaves burnt - but even now, the Mother's holy magic was regenerating it steadily. He felt it recoil at his touch. The last vestige of the Dream inside his thoughts, all because the sword had simply become a part of him in its own, strange way. I'm so sorry, Caladbolg. How dirty he felt, but he forced himself to focus on Aurene. Visualize. Think. Remember. Even now, Nenah's words were fresh inside his mind. Remember why you did this. For whom.

Blue flickered in his gaze, and a single covert tear fell upon the Thorn's cracked surface. He rose from his knees, greatsword in hand.

A gravelly grumble finally pried him from his thoughts. Rytlock cast a side glance in his direction - meeting his gaze - before groaning and looking away in an almost sheepish manner. If not for the circumstances, he might have considered it cute.

„Oh, hey, Commander...” The charr mumbled, scratching the back of his mane. „Good to have you back.”

Maelmordha only smiled in response. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but his comrade wasn't paying heed.

#finally the wretched rewrite! enjoy if you'd like haha #guild wars 2 #gw2 #gw2 fanfic #gw2 fanfiction #gw2 fic #guild wars 2 fanfiction #gw2 pof #gw2 path of fire #pof spoilers #gw2 balthazar #gw2 commander #About the Commander #Maelmordha #Hounds to Hamartia #gw2 the departing

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