#they have no memories of their human life | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acmeangel · 3 days ago

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♡ Levi visits your tea shop, and over time, your relationship turns from strangers to having your own little family. But, will the war tear him away from you?...

♡ NSFW, minors DNI ♡ Canon!Levi x Female!Reader ♡ Also features Postwar!Levi ♡ One shot, a mix of fluffy & angsty ♡ Word count: 8,061 ♡ Summary: Levi had been visiting your tea shop for a while, and while he didn't say much, your young son idolized Humanity's Strongest Soldier. You were a single mom, a widow, and it made your happy to see your son so excited. Over time, Levi began to talk to you more and more, until a romance sparked. He'd grown to love you and your son, but after marriage and another baby, the situation within Eldia grows darker, the Rumbling on the horizon. During the chaos, you don't know where Levi has gone -- will you two ever reunite?

Levi had always been quiet when he stopped by your tea shop in Trost. It wasn't often that he paid a visit — his focus was usually fused to the Survey Corps — but he couldn't resist the specific blend of black tea leaves that your shop carried. He'd muttered dryly before that yours was the only cup of black tea that didn't "taste like it'd been diluted in sewer water."

His visits had become predictable. He’d slip into the shop with soundless steps, order his tea with the fewest amount of words possible, toss some coins onto the counter (always including a tip), then sit at a table by the window and sip his tea, his gaze drawn to some far-off distance outside. When he'd leave, he'd always bring his tea cup back to the counter with a dull clink and leave his table as clean as it was when he'd arrived, the chair pushed into it. And that would be that.

You never disturbed his quiet — you figured that with him being a Captain in the Survey Corps, surely he'd come to your shop craving a scarce brief moment of peace and solace.

Your small, six-year-old son, however, had taken on his dad's exuberant and excitable nature, rather than your reserved one. It was one of the things you adored most about your son; it felt, to you, like the spirit of your late husband had planted a little seed within your son, like a small blossom that was finally beginning to bloom.

The way your son laughed with his head thrown back and eyes shut, the way his eyes widened and sparkled when he'd ramble on about whatever new hobby he was interested in (much like his father, he could never settle on just one thing), the way his small hands would fly through the air when he spoke — it was all him, your first and only true love.

It was four years ago, now, that your husband had passed unexpectedly. Your son was only two years old at the time, and as the years went on, you could tell that he was remembering less and less about his father. The weight on your shoulders grew heavier as it felt like it was up to you, solely, to keep his memory alive and treasured.

Even though you were still young, you’d sworn yourself to a life devoid of romantic love. You couldn’t fathom ever falling for someone new; nor could you imagine someone else ever understanding you or loving you the way that he had. A life of just you and your son, together, was all you’d ever need.

So, when Levi would stop by your tea shop, your son would act just as lively and uninhibited as your husband would have.

"Mommy, mommy." His little, pudgy hand would tug on the sleeve of your shirt as he looked up at you with big saucers for eyes. "It's Humanity's Strongest Soldier. He's back, he's back!"

"I know, darling," you'd coo, your hand stroking your son's hair to try and calm him as Levi walked through the door. "Be polite. Don't disturb him."

Trying to wrangle your son's enthusiasm always proved impossible. He’d climb up onto the counter — which you'd told him countless times not to do — so that he could get a better view of the fearless Captain.

"Captain Levi." He'd smile widely, revealing missing front teeth, as he beamed at Levi. "Did you just come back from a mission? What was it? How many Titans did you kill?"

Levi would always frown at this — not because he didn't like your son, but because he didn't like being idolized for being violent. His life was one he wouldn't wish upon anyone, and he didn't want the kids in town to look up to him, or anyone else in the Scouts.

"Hey." You'd shoot your son a stern look. "Enough questions, don't be rude."

"Don't worry about it," Levi would say, dryly, his tired eyes drifting from your son back to you. "Black tea. The usual kind."

"Sure." You'd nod and smile softly, your eyes catching his for a brief, but lingering moment, stuck in their depths — those eyes that always reminded you of the night sky during a storm, swirling and tumultuous.

You'd make Levi his tea and hand it to him, which would earn the faintest "Thanks, Y/N" before he'd take his seat by the window. Occasionally, your son would sneak over to him and ask him question after question, his small hands gripped onto the edge of the table, until you'd notice and lift him up, carrying him away with an apologetic look toward Levi.

Once Levi would leave, your son would blabber to you for the next day or so about how "strong" and "brave" Levi is, to which you'd nod along, appeasing him, your lips tugging into a smile now and then, happy to see your son so excited.

That was how Levi's visits to your shop had always gone, for months on end; it was a predictable routine.

That was, until one day, as he was ordering his usual black tea, you'd interrupted him. Usually, you’d be too busy trying to reign in your son to really talk to Levi, but Levi had visited earlier than usual that day, and your son was still at school.

"I actually just got a shipment of a new tea," you'd said, your eyes meeting his, a flicker of curiosity in your gaze. "It's rooibos tea. Similar to black tea. You might like it?"

A crease formed between his brow as he studied your face for a moment, taken aback by both your offering and your consideration of his tastes.

"Fine," he nodded, curtly. "I'll try it."

Your lips turned upward with slight surprise before forming a full smile, as you began brewing his tea. You handed it to him moments later, in an ornate ceramic teacup painted with simple lines and wavy vines, which he grabbed from you by the rim.

He took a sip from it while still standing at the counter, not waiting to sit down, as if wanting to test it before committing the next half-hour or so to sipping it. As he took his long, slow sip, his eyes didn’t leave your face once, his narrowed, somewhat unenthused gaze piercing into you.

“It’s good,” he said, finally, lowering the cup from his lips. “Thanks, Y/N.” He fished around his pocket for a few coins, which he placed down on the counter as always.

He turned away to head for his table by the window, but paused for a moment, his lips pressing together slightly as he examined the teacup more closely.

“Where’d you get this set?” he asked, the tone of his voice revealing nothing, as he turned to face you again.

“Oh,” you tilted your head as you tried to remember, caught off guard by the question. “I don’t remember exactly, but most of the tea sets are from a shop just down the street.”

“Hm.” He nodded slowly, his eyes still fixated on the teacup, his fingers gently tracing over the designs. “It just reminds me of one from when I was a kid.”

With that, he shook his head as if ridding his mind of the memory, and made his way to sit at the table, his head turned out the window. You couldn’t help but stare for a moment, noticing the way his fingers tapped the rim of the teacup, how the afternoon light settled onto his face, making his pale complexion look warmer, more amiable. A silence settled into the tea shop, only interrupted by the occasional bubbling of boiling water and the clanging of teapots and cups.

“It was my mother’s tea set,” he stated, plainly, seemingly out of nowhere. The sound of his voice drew your attention, but when you looked over at him, he was still staring out the window; only the curve of his cheek and the angle of his jawline were visible to you.

You approached him, slowly, lingering by the table, your hands clasped behind your back.

“Your mother?” you inquired, your tone gentle and inviting, as you moved a bit closer. “Are you close with her, then?”

“No,” his voice dropped low, scarcely above a whisper. “She’s dead.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you offered, which earned only a subtle nod from Levi. You paused for a beat before continuing. “It seems like your mother and my husband have similar tastes. He’s the one who picked that set out. He liked the vines.”

His head turned toward you, a raise to his eyebrow as he looked up at you, warily. “Husband, huh? What, he doesn’t help you out around here?”

“He used to,” you sighed softly, before adding, “he passed a few years ago.”

His eyes flickered with a brief awareness before meeting your gaze, a look of mutual understanding passing between you two.

“Sorry to hear that,” he said, echoing your sentiment.

“Thanks,” you said, and decided to sit down in the chair across from him at the table. “That’s actually the last teacup still fully intact from that set. I dropped the box it was in during a move a couple years ago.”

“Oh, yeah?” He glanced down at the teacup, turning it in his hand.

“Mmm.” You nodded. “But, have you heard of this concept called kintsugi?”

He shook his head, bringing his eyes back up to yours, waiting for you to explain.

“It’s this art form,” you began, “where you take broken pottery or ceramics and repair them by putting the pieces back together using gold lacquer. So you can still tell that the item is broken, and it doesn’t look the same as it originally did, but it doesn’t matter. Because now, it’s this new, exquisite golden thing, even though its brokenness is obvious. Anyway, that’s how I repaired the other pieces from the set.”

You nodded toward a shelf behind the counter, which held the rest of the tea set; teacups and a teapot, repaired with gold shimmering in the cracks between all of the broken pieces.

“Hm,” he nodded slowly with approval, the sides of his mouth slowly moving upward into a small smile.

Your relationship with Levi had truly started there — with a shared understanding of loss, brokenness, and grief. Each time he visited your tea shop, which had become more frequent, he’d share a little bit more about himself and his past. It usually wasn’t much, and you’d often have to fill in the blanks and read between the lines, but you could tell that he actually trusted you with this information and, at least, felt assured that you’d understand him.

Over time, the conversations would last a little bit longer and expand into topics outside of your shared losses; you’d tell him about your son, stories about interesting customers who had stopped by, memories about your childhood and your family. He’d share, too, usually anecdotes about his life in the Survey Corps, telling you about the “brats” he spent his days with, griping about their individual personalities with a fond sort of annoyance.

The romantic aspect of your relationship trickled in slowly — it began with the time Levi had reached across the table and placed his hand onto yours without a word or a change in his expression. And from there, it evolved into these subdued touches here and there; a hand on the small of your back, him fixing an out-of-place strand of hair when you’d wear it pulled back, his leg brushing against yours under the table and not pulling away.

The first time he’d kissed you, he’d been staring at your lips for almost the entire time you had been talking that day, as if magnetized to them.

“Levi,” you’d said, finally, a slight exasperation in your voice. “Either stop staring at my lips or do something about it.”

His expression faltered and an actual blush rose to his cheeks, as if he didn’t realize you’d actually be able to notice his staring. But, it was just the push he needed, because he then leaned over the table, cupped his hand onto the side of your face, and planted a soft, but firm, kiss onto your lips.

“Is that what you had in mind?” he asked, pulling back slightly, his lips still almost touching yours as he searched your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his once again. That kiss was all it took; from there, you were in. And he was, too.

As your relationship continued to flourish, he’d started visiting you at home, not just at the tea shop. He’d sit with you on your couch, running his fingers through your hair as the two of you caught up with each other. He’d help you out with all of the tasks that he knew were a burden on your shoulders with all you juggled, between raising your son and running the tea shop. He’d even started to warm up to your son and made an effort to talk to him, albeit somewhat awkwardly at first. Your son, however, didn’t notice any discomfort from Levi — he was just thrilled to have Humanity’s Strongest Soldier in his house.

When Levi had actually gone with you and your son to visit your husband’s grave on his birthday — a supportive, nonintrusive gesture — and had placed a simple bundle of flowers on his gravestone, you knew that there was something different about him. Something worth keeping around in your life for a long time. He understood you and all of the complexities and brokenness that came with you; he had his fair share of his own. You realized that, together, maybe you could become whole again.

Levi was nothing like how your husband was; and, in turn, the love you experienced with him was completely different. It was slower, softer, subtler. It was exactly what you didn't realize you'd needed — something tender and gentle to begin mending your once-broken heart. Levi, without even trying, had put the pieces of you back together in a way that was completely new. You'd been changed forever, and for once, it didn't feel like such a bad thing.

So, when he asked you to marry him, he did it in a way that was just as soft and subtle. You were sitting on the floor of your living room — a humble, but cozy space — playing with your son, who always had a way of coming up with the most elaborate pretend plots.

Levi followed along the best he could, occasionally asking a clarifying question to your son, his brows pressed together in serious contemplation. Your son would provide an equally as serious answer, explaining, in depth, the inner workings and rules of his pretend world.

During a moment of quiet, while your son rummaged around a chest for different toys to play with, Levi had simply looked at you, his usual armor cracking to reveal an honest vulnerability, and said, "I could get used to a life like this. With you. Both of you."

Your lips curved up into a smile and you tilted your head, your expression melting at his words. "I think that can be arranged."

"Think you'd consider marrying someone like me, Y/N?" The corners of his lips twitched, the smallest, self-deprecating smile on his face.

"Yes," you'd said, quickly, without even having to think about it. It was one of the easiest decisions of your life. "I won't just consider it. I'll do it. Happily."

Your son interrupted the tender moment, handing new toys to you and Levi, explaining the new, complicated rules of the next game you were about to play together. Levi listened intently, but his gaze caught yours for a moment, a knowing, affectionate glance exchanged between the two of you.

Your wedding was a simple one. You knew that Levi didn't care much for having a ceremony at all to begin with — if it were entirely up to him, you'd have forgone the whole ordeal. But, for you, he was willing to do just about anything (though he drew the line at dancing).

Between your collective eagerness to get married and Levi's unpredictable and hectic life with the Scouts, you didn't spend too much time or energy planning the wedding; fussing over the details and frills didn't matter much to either of you, as long as you got to be together by the end of it.

You'd invited only your closest family and friends, and kept the ceremony brief, exchanging simple vows. The only thing you'd cared about was the look on Levi's face when he saw you, in your simple, elegant white dress, carrying a bouquet of wildflowers, walking down the aisle toward him; he smiled a soft smile, his jaw clenching with emotion, his eyes focused on you with such intense reverence, it was as if nothing in the universe existed apart from you.

For most of the reception, Levi had sat at your table, observing as you laughed and talked with all of the guests; he was content just from seeing you glowing with happiness.

You'd convinced him, halfway through the night, to dance with you to a slower song; begrudgingly, and unable to say no to you, he obliged. You could sense the discomfort on his face as his eyes darted around the room as the two of you swayed to the music, feeling the eyes of the guests burning into him.

"Levi," you whispered, low enough so only he could hear. "Close your eyes. Pretend it's just you and me."

He nodded, and closed his eyes, his head resting onto your shoulder as his movements became smoother, more fluid. He sighed softly, holding you close, lost in your touch.

By the end of the night, your son had crashed after eating too much cake; he was curled up, asleep, with one of his grandparents. Fortunately for you and Levi, they'd offered to watch your son for the night to give you and Levi the alone time you'd so desperately been wanting.

You and Levi were sitting at your table, watching your guests move around the dance floor, your head rested on his shoulder while you absently scraped the frosting off of your plate.

"What do you say we get out of here?" Levi asked you, his lips pressed to your hair, with the slight raise of an eyebrow. "Don't think anyone will miss us too much. They're having too good of a time without us."

You giggled, rolling your eyes affectionately. "I knew you'd want to leave early," you whispered softly, knowingly. "But lucky for you, so do I."

Levi practically whisked you away the moment you finished your sentence. By the time you'd returned to your house, you were cradled into his arms as he kicked open your bedroom door, the room shrouded in the ethereal glow of moonlight.

"Levi," you laughed, as he hastily moved toward the bed, gently laying you down onto it, "slow down, relax."

"I can't," he replied, as he stood next to the bed, looking down at you, in awe at the sight of you in your wedding dress, your hair cascaded onto the bed below you, your delicate face becoming angelic in the pale purple moonlight. You were officially his forever. He released a quiet, adoring sigh as your hand trailed up his forearm, pulling him down onto you. His body settled onto yours, fitting together perfectly, his eyes taking in every inch of your face before his head dipped to the crook of your neck.

"Hey," he whispered, his lips brushing up your neck to your ear, his hands moving up your thighs under your dress, his touch worshipping your skin. "I didn't want to say my real vows in front of everyone. They didn't need to hear that. It's just for you. So, Y/N, here's what I promise you. I promise that I will love you until my last breath, and I'll protect you, no matter what it takes. Nothing will ever happen to you as long as I'm alive. I promise to always come back to you, no matter where duty takes me. I promise to love your son as if he were my own. You're it, Y/N. You're the light in my darkness, the only thing I'm sure of, the reason I've even still got a heart left at all. Don't ever forget that."

Your throat constricted as he spoke, trapping all of the words you wanted to say back to him, your mind lost between his loving whispers and the feel of his hands pressing against your skin.

"Levi," you managed to whisper, the word coming out as a shallow, wanting breath.

His lips pressed onto your neck, kissing and nipping at your tender, sensitive skin.

"You don't need to say anything," he whispered, low and husky, the words muffled against your neck. "Just be with me."

It was all he ever asked for, really — these moments alone with you. And because they happened more seldom than he'd wanted, he savored every second. He’d committed every detail of you to his memory, etched into his mind permanently: the individual flecks of colors in your eyes, the varying sounds and tones of your voice, each and every one of your idiosyncrasies and mannerisms.

His hands moved further up your thighs, his thumbs tracing over the scalloped edges of your soft lace panties. Your breath hitched, your hips instinctively pushing upward into his touch. His hands slid away, not quite to tease you, but because he was in no rush.

He lifted his head from your neck to look at you, his gaze attentive as it moved from your eyes to the curve of your cheek, to your lips and down the slope of your neck and shoulder. His hands moved out from under your dress to your shoulders, slowly pulling down the sleeves of your wedding dress.

"I love you," you whispered — you couldn't help it. You'd have said it a thousand times in that one moment, if you could've.

His hands paused their movements for a moment, his eyes crawling back up to yours, all of the tension in his face completely released.

"I love you too, Y/N," he whispered back, his voice barely audible over the sound of your beating hearts, as his lips lowered down onto yours.

He kissed you like he needed you as much as he needed air to breathe. His lips molded perfectly to yours, his teeth gently tugging onto your bottom lip before diving in deeper, his tongue sweeping out to taste yours.

His hands continued sliding off your dress, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he did, leaving sparks in their wake; once the dress fell softly to the floor by the bed, his hands worked their way across every inch of your body, showering attention onto every curve.

His kiss became hungrier, strands of his hair brushing against your forehead as a groan formed in the back of his throat.

Your hands rose to his shoulders, pushing off the jacket of his tuxedo before working to unbutton his shirt, tossing it to the side. Your hands traced over his muscles as they moved and flexed; your fingers affectionately grazed over the familiar scars and bruises that decorated his body.

A subtle gasp fell from his lips, captured by yours, as his hands trailed down your waist to your hips, once again resting on the soft fabric of your panties.

"God," he murmured, breaking the kiss for a brief moment, just to tilt his head down and look at your body beneath his, "you're so fucking beautiful."

His fingers tugged at the hem of your panties before sliding them underneath, between your folds, feeling the warmth and wetness that met him there.

Your head tilted back slightly and you bit your lower lip, breathing out sharply from your nose. His eyes snapped back up to your face as his fingers began to tease your slit, running up and down it before circling your clit with a gentle pressure.

You gasped softly, a low moan building within you, your eyes shutting with pleasure. You weren't sure how he did it, but even the simplest touch from him made you fall apart.

"Good," he whispered, reveling in how eagerly you responded to his touch. He increased his pressure on your nub, his thumb circling it as two of his fingers slipped inside of you with ease, earning a loud whimper from you.

His fingers pumped in and out of you, curling up against your most sensitive spot, his thumb remaining pressed against your clit as he coaxed pleasured moans from you. As your thighs began to shake, a familiar spark building up within your core, his free hand grasped onto your hip, steadying you, as he increased the pace and intensity of his fingers.

Your hands reached out, grasping for his shoulders as your body began to tense, the release building intensely within you, on the verge of exploding.

"Come undone for me," he whispered, his fingers pumping into you with untethered force, your juices coating and squelching against his hand. And you did — your walls clenched around his fingers as you poured out pleasure. Your back arched upward, your legs shook uncontrollably, and your fingers dug into his shoulders as you cried out, a ragged, gasping whimper, too strained with pleasure to make a real sound.

His fingers remained buried within you as you rode through the waves of release, only pulling out of you once your back settled back onto the bed. Before you could open your mouth to say a word, his hands had already pulled his own pants off, his hardened length springing free, pretty and pink.

"C'mere," he muttered, his hands sliding under your waist to gently pull you upright. He hoisted you onto his lap, your bare chest pressed to his, the warmth of your skin emanating into each other. His hands crawled up your back then gently around your neck, his thumb rubbing gently across your throat, then up to your lips.

"Levi," you whispered, muffled under the pressure of his thumb, your eyes locking onto his, strands of your hair stuck to your forehead with sweat. "Show me how much you love me. As your wife."

"My wife," he echoed, as if the words were the most decadent thing that had ever been on his tongue. His hands moved down to grip onto your hips, bringing your legs around him as you sat in his lap.

He lifted your hips up, pausing for a moment to meet your gaze before slowly lowering you down onto his cock, a soft groan parting his lips.

Your head tilted to the side as he filled you up, stretching out your walls completely. His head dipped to your chest, kissing your skin as he began to thrust, slowly and sensually, your hips moving in perfect harmony with his.

His fingers sprawled across your hips as he guided your motions as you rode him, his tongue and lips devouring your skin, moving between your nipples, sucking and tugging on them. Your hands gripped into his hair, causing him to growl faintly.

His eyes closed and he panted softly as he pushed your hips down onto his with increasing intensity, your clit pressing down onto his skin with each thrust, causing you to moan and writhe against him.

"Fuck," he panted, his grip on your hips tightening as he picked up the pace, practically slamming your hips down onto him, the muscles in his arms tense and rippling.

"L-Levi, I'm- I'm," you moaned, swallowing as your body began to reach its second climax, still sensitive from the first one, your hands slipping from his hair to wrap tightly around his back as your legs began to shake again.

He groaned, a low, primal sound, as he held your hips in place and pounded up into you with unrelenting movements, sending you spiraling over the edge. Your head collapsed into his neck, your moans and cries quieted against his skin, your teeth grazing his skin.

"Y/N," he moaned, a strained sound as he thrust into you one final time, his knuckles turning white as they held onto your hips, as he poured out deep inside of you.

He collapsed back onto the bed, bringing you gently down with him. One of his hands cradled the back of your head as you rested it on his chest, the other tracing patterns across your back, his touch soothing.

"My wife," he murmured, satisfied, his chest heaving with exertion and his body glimmering with little beads of sweat that looked like stars under the moonlight.

For the following year, that was how you'd spent most of your nights with Levi, when he had the chance to come see you between missions and duties.

He'd spend the first part of evenings with you and your son, listening intently to whatever new hobby or interest your son wanted to talk about, and playing with him on the living room floor or out in the yard. Levi would lean against the doorway as you'd tuck your son into bed, listening in with a tender expression as you read a bedtime story.

It didn't take long for your son to grow attached to Levi, and not just as Humanity's Strongest Soldier. The first time he'd asked Levi to read his bedtime story instead of you, Levi had stood frozen for a moment, blinking as he processed the question.

He'd cleared his throat slightly and nodded, his movements a little stiff as he pushed off the doorway and took the storybook from you, sitting down on the edge of your son's bed. He'd studied the page of the book for a moment before beginning to read, your son's eyes watching him with wonder and adoration. As Levi continued reading, he became more relaxed, the crease between his brow fading away, the words flowing more smoothly.

About halfway through the story, your son had drifted asleep, the sign of a job well done. Levi's lips curved into a small smile, and he nodded, contentedly. From then on, your son requested bedtime stories from Levi every time he visited.

And after your son was fast asleep each night, Levi would wrap his arm around your waist and pull you to your bedroom to show you just how much he loved his wife.

It wasn't much of a surprise, really, when you'd found out you were pregnant shortly after. When you'd told Levi during his next visit, you weren't sure how he'd react — he was away often and you hadn't exactly planned for a baby yet. You also knew that he'd had a troubled childhood and had never had a real father figure; he never seemed sure that he was doing the right thing when it came to your son. The danger and uncertainty of the world around you and his position as Captain only added to his inner doubts about whether he'd make a capable father or be any good, or worthy, at being a proper role model for anyone, let alone a child.

But as he'd spent more and more time with your son, he'd grown used to the idea of having a kid around — and actually even it. As he became more comfortable in his role in your son's life, he'd begun telling your son more stories about his life, trying to guide him and teach him lessons to keep him on the right track (and prevent him from a life of fighting and violence).

So, when you told him that you were pregnant, it was like you saw a spark of life ignite within his eyes as he scooped you up into his arms and buried his face into your neck. He didn't have to say it — he was happy.

Throughout your pregnancy, Levi tried to visit you more often to take care of you; he hated the thought of you doing absolutely anything alone while you were carrying your baby. When he was around, he barely let you so much as stand on your own.

He'd handle all the caretaking when it came to your son, he'd deep clean your house so you wouldn't have to worry about it, and he'd bring you endless cups of tea. He'd forced you to hire someone else to take over your tea shop temporarily, practically begging you when it came down to it, insisting that standing on your feet all day wasn't good for you or the baby.

After nine months of Levi sternly doting on you, your baby finally arrived. Levi made sure that he didn't miss this moment, shirking his duties and obligations for the first time since you'd known him.

"If they can't function without me for a day, those brats are more pathetic than I thought," he'd grumbled as he held your hand while you laid on the bed, after you'd asked him for the hundredth time if it was okay for him to be there, sweat sticking to your skin after coming down from your latest contraction.

"Now stop asking," he'd added, "None of that is important. This is all that matters." He squeezed your hand, reassuringly.

When the baby finally came, and the doctor announced that it was a little girl, Levi's shoulders tensed slightly, as if he hadn't considered the possibility of having a daughter. When the doctor wrapped her into a tiny bundle and handed her to Levi, he took her into his arms with a hold so hesitant and delicate, like he thought he might break her if he held on even a little bit too tight.

"Oh," he whispered, his eyes darting all over her face, taking in her pouty lips, scrunched nose, full cheeks, and barely-opened blue-gray eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched over and over, the vein in his forehead becoming visible as his eyes welled with tears. He blinked repeatedly, causing the tears to stream down his face.

"What the hell?" he whispered, a subtle tone of disbelief in his voice as he glanced down at you, blinking repeatedly, seemingly bewildered by the tears on his cheeks. "Is this normal?"

You laughed affectionately, nodding gently. "Yes, Levi. It's normal."

"Ah," he nodded, swallowing, his misty eyes returning down to his baby daughter, fixating on her little face so intensely, you weren't sure if he was ever going to look away again. His hand, with the slowest movement possible, reached up to her face, his finger brushing against her soft, delicate cheek. You were sure in that moment that nothing, nothing would ever come between Levi and his baby girl.

The first year after your daughter was born were as blissful as they could have been. Levi had continued making sure to spend more time away from the Scouts, as much as he possibly could, to be with you, your son, and his brand new baby girl.

When Levi couldn’t be around, you weren’t entirely alone to take care of the baby. Your son, who now claimed to be grown up at the age of seven, claimed that he was the “second in command” man of the house. He’d mimic Levi in the way he walked around the house, the specific way he would hold his little sister, and even in the way he’d hold a bottle or spoon while feeding her. Most recently, your son had even insisted on getting the same haircut as Levi (though he hadn’t yet gotten used to having strands of hair falling in front of his eyes).

And when Levi was there, he’d practically never let his daughter out of his grasp. At every meal, he’d prop her onto his lap and feed her little bites of food that she could eat (he figured it had to taste better than the baby food he called “mushed crap”). When he’d unwind on the couch with a cup of tea or a book, he’d have her held to his shoulder, her little head tucked against his neck. Overnight, when she’d cry, he’d always jump out of bed first to go tend to her — and he’d stay with her long after she was settled back to sleep, simply holding her or watching over her crib. He’d even willingly handle her most rancid of diapers — he claimed that he’d spent so much time around horse shit and Titan carnage that it didn’t bother him, and his need for cleanliness always left her perfectly spotless and cared for.

Even with his overprotective, doting behavior with his daughter, it was never like he neglected you or your son when he was around. When the baby would be napping, or when you’d finally take her for a change, he’d spend every other moment either sitting by you and holding your hand, or playing with your son.

Your little family had just fallen into this quasi-routine when Levi’s visits started to become more infrequent — the situation within the Survey Corps had grown more dire, and though Levi spared you of the details to not worry you, you knew that something terrible was waiting on the horizon. He’d become a bit more tense and distant with each of his visits, though you could tell he was trying to suppress it for the sake of you and the children.

Eventually, once it had been weeks since Levi had last visited, you began to worry, bordering on panic. You’d tried to calm yourself, reminding yourself that Levi was busy and that his missions were unpredictable — you’d tell yourself that he was likely just on a mission that was taking longer than usual.

When your son would ask you when Levi was coming home next, or your toddler daughter would babble about wanting “Dada,” you’d field their questions with reassuring platitudes about Levi’s importance as Captain and his strength and resilience. But as the weeks continued to stretch on without so much as a letter from Levi, there was nothing you could say anymore to soothe their worries or yours.

You’d tuck each of the children into bed at night, soothing them to sleep with gentle words, promising them that Levi would surely be home soon, even though you knew that your son, at least, was beginning to not believe you. Your daughter was easier to manage in terms of worries, but you feared that if Levi stayed away too long, she’d begin to forget him.

Once the children were safe and sound in bed, you’d stay awake, standing at your bedroom window, staring into the night as if you would bring Levi back to your doorstep with sheer need and willpower. But, he never returned. When the thought that Levi might actually be dead entered your mind, you pushed it away immediately; you couldn’t bear to think that way for even a second, let alone say the words out loud. You knew that Levi’s work was dangerous, and you knew that ever since Marley came into the picture, things for him had become more complicated and precarious than ever. You knew about what Eren had done to Marley, and you knew about the Jaegerists, and you knew that Levi was mixed up in all of it. Still, you refused to acknowledge that something deadly could really have happened to him.

As the weeks stretched into months, you’d forced yourself to maintain a calm face and strong exterior for the sake of the children. They’d both crawl up into your lap each night, looking up at you, as if your eyes would reveal answers as to where Levi had gone and why he wasn’t coming back.

You’d look down into the big, sparkling eyes of your children, a look that both warmed and broke your heart; you saw both of your loves, your first and Levi, looking back up at you.

You thought to yourself, as your heart shattered in your chest, Is this my life? Destined to carry the hearts and spirits of people I love, without ever getting to truly be with them?

When The Rumbling began, you couldn’t believe that it was actually happening — that all of humanity, aside from Eldia, could be wiped out, the world flattened. You tried your best to steel yourself from the fear and devastation that coursed through your veins and consumed your every thought, trying to protect the children from the cruel reality and danger that loomed outside. You’d forced them to stay inside the house with you the entire time, and you held them close, trying to distract them in any way that you could, while your mind drifted to thoughts of Levi.

You knew that if Levi was out there, somewhere, he’d surely be in the frontlines of this impossible battle to stop The Rumbling; you knew that he was in grave danger, more than ever before, more than you’d ever thought was possible. The situation was grim and futile, but you knew that Levi wasn’t one to give up or back down — he’d lost too many comrades, seen too many sacrifices to quit at the final moment and let all of their deaths have been in vain. You knew he’d sacrifice his own life if it came down to it, and that thought terrified you more than anything else.

When The Rumbling had eventually ended, it wasn’t clear what, exactly, had happened — you’d heard too many conflicting rumors and theories about who was there and who had survived, that you didn’t want to believe anything too quickly. As Eldia, hesitantly, became safe again, you waited, still, for Levi to come home, but he still hadn’t. You forced yourself to continue being patient, to not give up hope; most of the other Scouts still hadn’t returned yet, you reminded yourself.

As the weeks continued to pass, Eldia began to return, bit by bit, to a state resembling normalcy; far from recovered, but relieved that the war was finally, officially over.

“Does this mean Levi is coming home now?” your son had asked you, his eyes filling with hope, a smile daring to form on his face.

You swallowed, hard, trying to maintain composure. “I don’t know, sweetheart,” you admitted, bringing your son into a tight hug. “I hope so. We’ll see, okay?”

Weeks later, when there was a knock at your door and you opened it to reveal a man you’d never seen before, wearing a plain black suit, you weren’t sure what to expect. You cracked the door open, just barely, as your kids scurried up behind you to see who was there, your son hovering behind you and your toddler clinging onto your leg.

“Uh, hi,” you greeted him, a look of uncertainty on your face. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Y/N, right?” he asked, his voice soft and kind as he double-checked the address of your house and glanced down at the children hiding behind you. “I’m Onyankopon. I’m a pilot, and I’ve been helping out with the Scouts for a while.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of the Scouts, your heart racing in your chest as you prepared yourself for anything — good news or bad.

“Yes,” you answered hastily, “I’m Y/N. Is it Levi? What happened? Is he okay?”

Onyankopon held his hands up, palms facing you in a soothing gesture. “Levi’s fine. He’s alive, Y/N.”

You gasped, your hand flying up to your mouth in shock as your body began to tremble slightly, unable to process the emotions that swirled through your mind and the intense relief that threatened to pour from your eyes.

“He- He’s alive? L-Levi’s okay? Really?” you asked, your voice struggling to get the words out, your vision blurring with tears.

“Where is he?” your son asked, urgently, his head poking forward to look up at Onyankopon.

“He’s in Marley,” Onyankopon said slowly and calmly, trying not to overload you with information. “That’s why I’m here, actually. He sent me here to come and get you. He…,” he paused for a moment, contemplating how much to reveal, “needed my help with it.”

You didn’t waste any time; the prospect of seeing Levi again, finally, after all the time and uncertainty, was enough to set you into motion immediately. You gathered the few belongings that you and your kids needed, and you were out the door immediately, hurriedly following behind Onyankopon.

A short journey later, you’d arrived in Marley — you were too focused on the thought of Levi to gawk and stare at the unfamiliar sights of the city that normally would’ve left you awestruck, even through the destruction and rubble surrounding you. Your gaze remained intently fixated on Onyankopon as he guided you through the hectic streets, before you approached a somewhat damaged building. Onyankopon led you down the winding hallways, before opening the doors to one of the rooms and stepping aside, revealing Levi inside, his back turned to the door.

“Levi,” Onyankopon said, “we’re here.”

Levi’s head snapped around, and your eyes widened as you saw the state of him, wondering what injuries he had endured — the wheelchair, his glazed-over white eye, the fresh scars on his face, the missing fingers — but you didn’t care. He was there, he was alive, he didn’t seem to be in any pain, and he was just as beautiful as you’d remembered him. Nothing else mattered in that moment; everything else could wait until later.

Before you could manage to get a word out, or shake off the shock of seeing him, your son ran over to him first, propelled by urgent eagerness and relief.

“I missed you, Dad,” your son said, his eyes shutting as he wrapped his arms around Levi — it was the first time he’d ever referred to Levi as ‘Dad.’ Levi’s eyes snapped up to you, misty and glistening, his throat tightening slightly. You nodded, a tender, encouraging motion as you walked over with your daughter in your arms, your heart swelling with warmth and affection.

“I missed you too, son,” Levi said, his voice rough with feeling as he returned your son’s hug, his arms trembling faintly, his hand ruffling his hair. As your son released Levi, Levi kept an arm on his back, a subtle, reassuring touch.

Your daughter extended her arms out to Levi as you got closer, babbling, as you set her down into Levi’s lap. Her tiny hands gripped onto his shirt and she looked up at him, smiling and giggling.

“She’s not… scared… to see me like this,” he whispered with disbelief, his expression softening even further as he gazed into his daughter’s eyes, seeing nothing but love and affection looking back at him.

As your daughter nuzzled her head into his neck, as she always did, you knelt down next to him, your lips and hands trembling slightly as you took a long, close look at him.

“Levi,” you choked out, your hands rising to his face, cradling it gently, your fingers gently resting on his new scars. Your eyes locked into each other, filled with unspoken emotion and relief.

“Y/N,” he echoed, his head tilting into your touch, his brows twitching involuntarily as he became overwhelmed at the sight of you and the feeling of your soft, warm hands touching him. Your thumbs swept under his eyes, absorbing the few tears that had broken free from his eyes.

You leaned in and kissed him softly and gently, your lips returning to where they were meant to be — against his. He released a shuddering breath that melted against your lips, the fear and worry that had consumed you both for so long dissipating into the air.

“Thank God you’re all alright,” he whispered as he broke the kiss, his voice fraught with emotion as he extended his arms out and pulled the three of you close to him. “My family.”

As you buried your face into Levi’s neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin at last, your mind, inexplicably, went to the broken tea set on the shelf in your tea shop — the tea set that had ignited your entire relationship with Levi, all that time ago. You thought of it as you looked at your family; broken, yes, but healing and more beautiful than ever before.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by @alebrasil0101

taglist: @leviykwim @wittyjasontodd (message to be added!)

#☆.acmeangel.writes #☆.levi.oneshot #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x fem!reader #levi ackerman x female!reader #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman smut #levi smut #levi fanfic #levi fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi one shot #levi ackerman one shot

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shitpostingsapphic · 2 days ago

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"I hate Caitlyn because of the system she represents. I'm so tired of people acting like we can'thate her for that."

Let's have a long, hard talk.

This argument IS made in direct comparison to the oppressive systems we see in real life, so let's first talk about how Caitlyn compares to real world oppressive systems, her faults and the ways she fails the people she serves, and then let's talk about how you're just fucking wrong about her and how you hate the wrong character.

Caitlyn is an enforcer. Stating the obvious. She is a member of a larger system she chose to be a part of, because she wanted to serve the people. She was ignorant of the system's corruption as we see throughout season 1. Her initial intentions with becoming an enforcer are because she wants to fight injustice, defy the stuff politics of Piltover that she was raised under, and have her own identity.

At the end of season 1, several things happen to Caitlyn. She is abducted naked from her home, held hostage for at minimum 24 hours, during which time an array of things could have happened to her but of which we know for certain left her TERRIFIED of the young girl with blue hair she was abducted by. She watches that same girl fire an explosive that kills her mother. Preceding this, she has been witness to the ways Silco has harmed the people of the undercity and how he had the enforcers in his pocket in order to do it. Ekko explicitly tells her this. He tells her how Silco has ruined lives and how the enforcers were the manpower that let it happen.

Caitlyn walks away from season 1 changed in many ways. She is brokenhearted and traumatized, but still holds a strong desire to protect the innocent people of both cities. Because of who she has been up to this point, her belief is that she can rectify the wrongs by using the power of her position to do good instead of aid corruption. Her asking Vi to become an enforcer to do as much is in bad taste, yes. Which she later apologizes for and takes ownership for. That doesn't remove the good intention behind it. And it doesn't negate that Vi can later see the logic behind it. Being able to take control of a bad situation and use that power to do good instead of abusing that power to do bad, is an incredibly shaky but important position to be in. And the whole point of Caitlyn's character is how she navigates that--can she use her position to do good? As per GOOD WRITING, she's not going to get it perfect until she learns and grows.

We can acknowledge the moral ambiguity of using the grey, how it does harm, while also acknowledging the WAY it was used and for what purpose was both smart, economical, and GOOD. Doing bad things for good reasons. That's what the use of the grey was.

I'm not going to get into the memorial much, but all I will say for that, is it's an excellent example of people twisting Caitlyn's words and underselling the pain she's going through. If you can't acknowledge the right Caitlyn has to be upset at the people who just violently disrupted a memorial for mourning the loss of loved ones, I don't think you care to have a conversation about the humane treatment of others. And using Caitlyn's anger and grief as a "see?? She hates Zaunites!!" is so fucking stupid I'm not going to entertain an argument for that.

Caitlyn's setback is her trauma, her ignorance, and her heartbreak. She still isn't a fully realized character throughout most of season 2. She's learning and growing and unfortunately that is at the expense of the people she lords over while enforcing martial law. But if we acknowledge that, we also have to acknowledge the ways she changed the system so that needless suffering and punishment didn't happen. Confronting Ambessa when violence is used unlawfully. Improving the prison food and banning the use of the most inhumane cells in Stillwater. Bare minimum? Yes. But still ways she showed that she saw the Zaunites as humans and not as flesh covered problems the way Salo does. Not as problems to get rid of the way Ambessa does.

If the reason for your ire is because Caitlyn is a figure in a corrupt system, then your hatred is misdirected. The point of Caitlyn is to show the ways the system needs to change, and how the people within it who want to do good can often be misguided, but that doesn't mean they aren't good people or that they can't do good within their position.

If you fundamentally disagree with that, there isn't much of an argument to be had, but I will say that your ire is still misdirected.

I never see you guys discuss Salo or Ambessa.

Salo represents true bigotry in the system. It's a position he maintains all the way up to when his mind is commandeered by Viktor and the hexcore. Salo is the type of person who functions on confirmation bias--he already has a prejudiced view of Zaunites, and will use any opportunity to say "see? Told you so! We should put them down." Compared directly to how Caitlyn talks about them, asks Vi to help fix the system, fights against the system going too far, actively makes adjustments to change the way the system treats Zaunites, the claims that Caitlyn is a bigot don't hold up.

Ambessa IS the system. She IS the oppressive force that indiscriminately will take and take and take and sees violence as a tool and not a consequence to be avoided at all costs the way Caitlyn does. And for some fucking reason, no one who criticizes Caitlyn gives any weight to Ambessa's actions, ever. They don't discuss the way she manufactures the attack on the memorial to manipulate public opinion on Zaunites, as well as manipulate Caitlyn. They don't discuss how she sets Caitlyn up to be pressured to take the position of Commander and uses her grief, promises her justice, in order to warm Caitlyn to her and keep her as an ally, a pawn she can use. They don't discuss how she sent Maddie to be a spy, to be in Caitlyn's bed and to be as intimately close to her as possible, to make sure Caitlyn still was behaving the way she needed in order to see her plan through.

When discussing the manipulative, exploitative, and violent nature of oppressive systems, Caitlyn has become the scapegoat, when it is people like Salo and Ambessa who deserve your blame and your ire.

You wonder why people don't take your complaints about Caitlyn seriously? That's why. Because the show gave you very bold examples of oppressive individuals in control of the systems you hate, and you ignore both of them for the sake of hating on a beloved lesbian character, who is beloved because she is flawed and good natured and whose journey we enjoy because it's all about learning what to do when you're within a system that pulls you at every direction to do evil, and you still find a way to do good.

Do some more think pieces on Salo and Ambessa. Then maybe we can have nuanced discussions on Caitlyn.

#arcane #caitlyn kiramman #arcane league of legends #caitlyn arcane #arcane discussion #arcane analysis #arcane ambessa #ambessa medarda

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from-the-owls-nest · 3 days ago

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Well... It's your life. and your personality. so nobody gets to tell you or to decide how they want you to be. They can share how they see you, how they've experienced you, and you get to decide if that still fits, or maybe later again, or if that's a Past You thing, or if you just don't know yet. Transformations and Changes and not knowing are human. And people who love you will love you however you are and want you to be happy over keeping any image they built up of you intact and forcing you into it. *cough* my parents

Also: who someone is has so many different parts. things they like, things they're good at, things they do a lot, things they want to do, traits, memories. There's not one thing that defines all of you. And if something changes or goes missing - sometimes things are just behind a cloud, or like hibernating, and come back when there's space for them, like that or in a different form.

And the other thing... Well. Uh. I don't know what future you will think. I don't know what future me will think. And if I don't know - I try to keep the options open until I maybe will know.

I sorta... this will sound silly. I have an agreement with myself that I'll try to make the best choice with the information I have in a moment, so I dont get to be mad at myself later because I was trying my best. And in retrospect that I try to not make choices future me has to clean up or impacts them badly, especially permanently. Like - it's unfair to future me to give up if good things can still happen, if there's options left to try, and a path to continue on and see if it can get better. I think it'd be more unfair to potential future me and the experiences future me could make if things go well, to destroy them with me ahead of time, before I've tried everything to change and better things, than it is to keep going through the rough times and to keep them around until then or until the criteria have changed.

We'll often also hear to think of others and what you'd do to them and to keep living for others, and - that can be a good reason, but it shouldn't be that guilt trip thing, or make it less of your choice. In the end you gotta decide what feels right to you and what you want. Nobody should make you do something you genuinely fully don't want. Just... remember that you aren't alone, and that there's people who love you and would support you in figuring things out and finding out who you wanna be and what you want life to be like, okay?

(OOC: anyone reading - even if you genuinely feel like theres no hope left, please reach out to a safe person and see if things change with a bit of distance or new options can appear - if it could have been a passing cloud or a storm that will end in time, or something that can be fixed by time or help. uh. before you make choices that cant be taken back and may lead to a lot of suffering. Thanks. And Tumblr please dont get mad at me.)

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

#But these days I feel A LOT like Will #Like I'm a different person from what people my entire life have belief in me and I'll never fit those shoes #Even though I want to #Even though I KNOW I can #It's just- out of reach #<- hug?#i had that moment too #havent fully found out who i am yet #and it's been two years #but it does get better #yay freedom to be yourself #and to discover yourself in the first place #(disclaimer it's a lot more complicated than that bc mental illness - identity stuff and that agreement)#if you want to ask me in dms someday maybe #Philosophy time again with the endless sentences #i like thinking...

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vexwerewolf · 3 days ago

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Bc my group is on its last few beats of Wallflower and I'm gonna be running IGF afterwards, there is a nonzero chance that there's gonna be egregs among my players. My question is, how would calliopeans see the moths?

This is a question I get asked a lot but I never get tired of answering.

I think Calliopeans would be genuinely astounded by the concept of sentient alien life for about twenty minutes, and then would be like "okay so you can like, fix a water filter, right"

Calliopeans would not give a shit that you're a giant alien moth with a partial hivemind, and I mean that in the most positive possible way. Like, there's probably Calliopeans who'd be interested, who'd ask questions...

Esteban Hashimoto: So like... you guys communicate through, uh... speech, but also...

Star-Star-Moon: Touchings of [memory/thought]. For us it is very like remembering; for humans, I think your mind [interprets/misidentifies] the sensation differently, as you are not well-adapted to experience memories that don't belong to you.

Esteban Hashimoto: That's fucking wild, man.

Star-Star-Moon: I have told you something of my people. Now, in exchange, you must [explain/justify] to me something of your people: what does it mean to... "juju on that beat?"

Regular Calliopeans would be absolutely chill with Egregorians outside of understandable curiosity.

SSC, however, would absolutely lose their fucking minds trying to "get hold" of one.

#lancer rpg #lancer #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #in golden flame #wallflower #no room for a wallflower

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literaryvein-reblogs · 22 hours ago

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Writing your Character's "Twin Flame"

Twin Flame Connection - describes a relationship in which each person sees a part of themselves in the other.

Twin flames might share specific qualities, passions, or insecurities.

Twin flame love can be platonic, emotional, romantic, intellectual, or a combination.

Sometimes a twin flame connection bonds best friends; other times, it can initiate a romantic relationship.

Regardless of the relationship form, twin flame connections can spur profound spiritual growth and might event put people on a new life path.

Twin Flame Signs

There are a few ways to tell whether you’ve met a twin flame. Consider the following signs:

Gravitation: You will feel a great pull toward this person, either romantic or platonic.

Recognition: Typically, a sudden recognition occurs upon meeting a twin flame. You realize this person shares your specific traits, good or bad, and those commonalities form a bond. Often, twin flames feel as if they have met before or have always known each other.

Worldview: Twin flames share your worldview, making them very easy to be around.

Twin Flame Stages

A twin flame connection can lead to a romantic relationship. If so, you might experience these feelings in the following stages:

Yearning: Before meeting your twin flame, you might look for love or feel this person is right around the corner. A tug brings you out of your shell, deepening your desire and opening yourself up to new experiences to find this person.

Meeting: Encountering your twin flame can be overwhelming. Expect intense emotions in this stage. You might feel like this person has everything you need, and being away from them can be painful.

Love: You will spend more time together and find you have a lot in common. This will bring you closer, and your disparate worlds will quickly become one.

Enjoyment: The honeymoon phase comes next. This is a blissful period during which the twin flames make formative memories.

Doubt: After the honeymoon phase, you will question why this healthy relationship is so perfect, and you might measure it against past lives and relationships. This can lead to doubts and insecurities.

Growth: Your doubts might lead to conflict, but the conflict will smooth over with forgiveness, understanding, and time. During this period, you will see your partner’s flaws but appreciate them all the more.

Settling: During this chapter, you settle into your relationship, knowing it is more than a passing phase and something more unique and permanent.

Progress: After some ups and downs, you will feel your life is returning to a more normal balance. Your twin flame will become a part of your natural world order, and you will move on in great contentment.

Origin of Twin Flame

There are various origins to the theory of the twin flame. In the philosophical text Symposium (circa 385 BCE), Plato posits humans once had four legs and arms and two faces.

The gods felt threatened by this, so Zeus split the people in two; humans would wander in search of their other half.

Another theory is that the zodiac signs and astrological birth charts determine the attraction between twin flames.

For example, Aries and Leos might bond because they are both Fire signs.

Twin Flame Separation

One of the tricky parts of finding your twin flame is seeing them reflect parts of yourself.

It can be challenging to see personality traits you dislike.

Twin flames can form toxic relationships in which each person is overly dependent on the other or combative.

Nonetheless, twin flames feel a strong connection, so it can be anxiety-inducing if you have a falling out.

How to Cope With Twin Flame Separation

There are a few ways to cope with twin flame separation, and they can mirror the stages of grief. Follow these steps to navigate a split from a twin flame:

Acknowledge the loss. The first and hardest step is to acknowledge the loss. Part of that acknowledgment might be that you might not find someone as unique. Self-care is essential and can include taking walks, going to therapy, and engaging in low-stress activities.

Lean on a support system. Spend time with those who are supportive and loving. This can help your heart mend and perhaps introduce you to new people who might fill the void.

Move forward. A drastic change, like losing a twin flame, can lead to significant life changes, such as finding a new job or home. People cope in various ways, and as long as you find a healthy outlet (through art, nature, physical activity, or others), you will begin the path toward healing.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#twin flames #relationship #love #writeblr #character development #writing notes #writing reference #literature #writers on tumblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #character building #writing ideas #tranquillo cremona #writing resources

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 3 days 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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ghostkittypog · 2 days ago

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Imagining the way that people /have/ to know you're the only one with your memories wiped each night after years.... Imagining that there was once a time where they told you there's a time loop, nothing can progress, nothing can change anymore, they don't know how to get out. But your reaction eventually became another form of expectedness, so they let you go around believing everything was okay.

The other implications of this world... There's people stuck giving birth and cuddling their newborn, there's people with sick children who can never become UN-sick--even if the child is only sick with the common cold--people who just /are/ sick themselves stuck like that. Children who are never aging from 2, 7, 13, physically. You would keep encountering really eloquent toddlers because, if everyone remembers, so do the children. So do the elderly.

People stuck dying every day just from illness being revived each day. Other people who are Meant to die that day from happenstance being able to avoid it. And then nothing changes about their life because keeping themselves alive wasn't the key to getting out of the loop. The amount of grief and loneliness and horror put on hold for the situation because it's been years and nothing's changed.

If they ever broke out of the loop, all of humanity (except you) would get absolutely body-slammed by the amount of Everything that a loop can't let you process because of the sensation of inability to escape. People can reveal their true forms in the loop, their vulnerabilties, but they still need the reality of time moving forward. The only consolation is everyone else remembers, so nobody's so alone. Changes communicated by word, like self-expression, romantic flings, etc., those all remain even after a loop.

People in the hospitals getting really close with the medical staff because what else is there to do... The only people who keep working really just being those who work in the entertainment industry. Because anything else won't see much reward. Customer service workers still working, but kinda just...chilling and talking to the customers coming in and leaving the machine alone; maybe occasionally they scan an item and let the person pay, just for old time's sake.

Apparently, you are living in a time loop. Also apparently, you are the only person on Earth who DOESN'T remember the previous iterations. This is the first time you've experienced today; the rest of humanity has been stuck reliving today for years now.

#there is just. so much to get into with this prompt #hellscape but also... yay? healing ? healing for humanity ?

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alaa-mari-hamza · 2 days ago

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The remains of our memories, our dreams and much of what we owned were lost in moments. Life is very terrifying in the midst of this destruction, especially when you have two young children without any shelter.

To everyone who watches and reads our words, I beg you to speak to every ounce of humanity in you. Share and donate.

@sawasawako @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @good-old-gossip @stopmotionguy @myceliacrochet @biconicfinn @feluka @7bitter @milfstalin @mossdeep @bahrmp3 @butchniqabi @kamek @riotbard @vilecrocodile @bakugames-fr @cagandante-communistoide @ohemaa-warrior @postanagramgenerator @toiletpotato @handweavers @pcktknife @bedufairy @hiveswap @jewishdainix @yekkes @ebenrosetaylor @mdq @lab-practicum @goldenspirits @pikslasrce @komsomolka @khizuo @timetravellingkitty @pyaasa @saharawitch @elfilibusterismo @sayruq @opencommunion @neptunerings @sar-soor @turtletoria @aflamethatneverdies @anyonghalimaw @khanger @autisticmudkip @nesmamomen @a-shade-of-blue @imjustheretotrytohelp @guldaastan

#free palestine #gaza #gaza genocide #gazaunderattack #gazaunderfire #i stand with palestine #news on gaza #palestinian genocide #palestinian lives matter #save gaza

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deathbxnny · 3 days ago

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Hello! Could I request Acheron, Feixiao and Jingliu x Angel! Reader, please? (In context the reeader is an extremely powerful entity that has lived for centuries, basically their job is to slay evil beings and demons. They don't have a true form as they can shapeshift. However they have 12 angelic pure white wings with a bright halo. They can use any weapons however they usually carried a hot flaming sword that can pretty much burn anything even Aeons. However they have a very unique and gentle aura as they can calm down their bloodlust or give them peace with just their presence alone. Despite all of that they are extremely kind and empathetic. However because of their extreme power and presence they can't always intervine and humans affairs as they are also bounded by rules. However they aren't afraid of bending them if it means they can save lives or make their beloved life a little better)

HSR women with an angel!Reader. | Acheron, Feixiao, Jingliu

I found this actually pretty fun to write about Anon, so I hope you'll enjoy this too!<3

Content: Established romantic relationships, hsr canon violence, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》ACHERON

You being an angel often fades into the back of her mind, as your presence envelopes her scrambled memories into a warm and calming hug. She feels at ease around you, finally finding time to rest in between her hard and at times difficult workload as a galaxy ranger.

She respects you as an equal and doesn't bring up your inhuman nature ever. You are one in the same. But that doesn't mean she won't admire your strength in her own special way. With focused eyes, she'll watch your sword set ablaze in battle, wings spread wide as you take flight and soar through the skies like a free bird.

Acheron often ponders the meaning of your relationship, as she can't fully understand what it is about her that you like so much to stay for. She isn't anything remarkable in her eyes, just a wandering soul on an endless mission, but perhaps that's just another similarity that keeps you together.

》FEIXIAO

How exactly she got you to be her partner may remain a secret to everyone, as she herself often is at a loss for words. Especially when you shower her with her so much kindness and softness, something she rarely gets to have due to her rather harsh line of work. You are the only one who gets to see her so vulnerable.

Your prowess in battle leaves her beaming with pride every time. And your true form makes her sigh in wonder. She definitely asks to train with you for hours on end, even if you obviously go easy on her. She doesn't mind, as long as she can admire your form for longer this way.

She admires your respect for the rules of mortals, and her heart warms when you bend them for her or her people. Feixiao never asks you to do so directly, but it makes her feel good to know that she is worth the love and attention of an angel in this way.

》JINGLIU

Despite never saying it out loud, she's eternally thankful for your presence in her life. You keep her bloodlust at bay and give her the peace she so deeply yearns for. You ask for nothing but her love in return, and who is she to deny a divine entity? She feels undeserving of you, yet never says a word against it. A small selfishness on her part, perhaps.

Your holy form is burned into the forefront of her mind, a strong figure that she could never defeat and never wants to even in the depths of her crazed, sick mind. The light shining off your halo filters into her eyes through the blindfold and makes her sigh in relief every time you are near her. The pain is more bearable this way.

And yet, despite this deep love you share, she knows that it will end sooner than you want to. Even you can not save her, or perhaps she doesn't want to be saved anymore. It is an unspoken fate between you, too, and she'll let you believe that bending the rules of mortality will keep her at your side for longer if it is that that makes you happy.

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bloodywankers · 2 days ago

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tw; yandere, domestic abuse, child abuse, drugging, alcoholism, slight nsfw, bodily harm, unedited

Hate is a strong word but even it is not nearly strong enough to describe what Alexei felt for his father, the one who snatched his mothers budding career as a ballerina right from her. Not when–if not for him, perhaps he would’ve grown up loved and cared for by a mother instead of a changing rotation of nannies and tutors. The few memories he has of her usually include crying and screaming, cursing the boy for looking like ‘that monster’--what she called his father. Now that he’s an adult, he can’t help but agree, but most normal children at that age don’t tend to understand why mommy always screams and sobs when she and daddy are alone at night.

He hates to admit it but when desperate he’d even turn to his father for a morsel of affection, not unlike his brother but both were met with his cold gaze and treatment worse than that which you expect from strangers. Because, as his brother who was equally as young best described it, “Daddy only has eyes for mommy”. Every chance he got, their father got gifts for their mother. Jewellery, dresses and any other thing money could buy, well, anything except the freedom to leave. Alexei and his brother always had gifts on birthdays and holidays too, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out they were from the nannies who took pity on them rather than their parents.

But it wasn’t always bad! Sometimes daddy, sitting in the living room, would massage mommies feet— which always seemed to hurt and need treatment— and mommy would be too tired to cry or curse at the boys. On those occasions they would be allowed to play in the living room, but only if they didn’t make any noise. On those occasions Alexei felt like a real family, just like the one in the movies, if you ignored the half-drunken cup on the table near mommy with a substance too cloudy to be called water.

No one turns out normal after a childhood like his, that’s what his last therapist said at least. So no one should blame him for finding refuge in alcohol, his brother inheriting the family business allows Alexei to run nightclubs that bleed money quite easily. A privilege he’s willing to admit most don’t have, but most don’t have a family life like his either. Nowadays he doesn’t know what his parents are up to and usually, he’s too drunk to care.

Of course, it’s not all bad, he has a nice house where he can do as he pleases. It’s nothing like a typical rich bachelors house but instead one he saw in a movie once, he’d always been jealous of the family the character had so he purchased a house that looked eerily similar to the movie set. Hoping that the association would make it feel less empty and cold, he even got the same dog the main character had. A big golden retriever that he would take on walks in the mornings after a hangover, he even feeds it on time despite his drunken habits!

But a dog and suburban house don’t fill the void left by crippling loneliness, not when humans are inherently social creatures and Alexei actively denies himself this. The comfort of alcohol is limited, you can only consume so much before it stops working so occasionally he seeks the warmth of a person, usually it’s short-lived, most people have normal lives, and normal jobs they have to get to. So he usually goes straight back to sleep after he does whatever mundane routine he’s set to follow, waking up only after the last rays of the sun are gone, but occasionally he makes exceptions. This time, due to his brother demanding he attend an event with him, some sort of charity event that involved a ballet performance.

Alexei doesn’t remember much after he saw you dance in your little dress and stage makeup. For a moment in time it felt as if you two were the only people in the world, an unfamiliar warmth in his chest as you stared right into his eyes. He’s never been one to believe in these sorts of things but it almost felt like fate as your gazes met and his heart felt truly alive for the first time in so long, a sensation he was sure was not a side effect of alcohol poisoning this time.

He could faintly remember inviting you to one of his nightclubs and you begrudgingly accepting, looking back on it, being the brother of a major backer for the event might have been part of the reason you accepted but Alexei liked to think it was because you were as charmed by him as he was you. It all felt like a blur until he found himself in a hotel room with you, sitting on a sofa with you on top of him. By that point he had too much alcohol in his system to do much more than to beg you to keep going. Letting you guide him until he was on the floor and you in his place on the sofa.

“I’ve been a good boy, haven't I? You love me, right?” He’d mutter between, his words slurred and barely audible as he took one of your feet in his hand and kissed it.

“Tell me you love me.” This time he spoke in a clarity that made all his past drunkenness seem like an act, his eyes wide opened and focused solely on yours.

“Hmm?” His grip on your foot seemed to tighten as he eagerly waited for your reply, eyes staring right into yours and a blank expression waiting to contort based on your reply. He looked almost pathetic, especially when compared to how high and mighty he seemed to act when sober.

You were quick to respond with confessions of love, lest he cut off the circulation to your foot entirely and, to your pleasure, the reply seemed satisfactory enough as he continued, shifting his focus to your breasts instead. Continuing on until the sun started to peek through the window and neither of you had any more energy to continue, although you were sure he kept going long after you passed out. However, thankfully, you were able to get up before him, carefully dressing yourself so as to not wake him.

It’s almost routine for Alexei to wake up alone after spending the night with someone but he admits to feeling a little disappointed this time, hoping he could see you at least for a last time but he tries not to linger on it for too long, it’s always been like this and this time should be no different. Even if the walk home feels especially lonely when he sees parents walk their children to school and young couples bask in each other's company. He doesn't like to admit it but that doesn't make it any less unbearable.

He’s never lingered so much after spending the night with someone, never bothered to figure out their name or the place they work at, nor as he ever bothered to add any events they could likely attend to his calendar. It’s out of character, he acknowledges as he scrolls through your social media, careful not to like any of your posts to tip you off, at least not until the time is right. It gets to the point where even people around him start to notice.

“You’ve been going around asking for information on her, how would I not know when you called the event organisers?” His brother, Viktor, said. At this point, any normal person might’ve reprimanded Alexei for acting like a lowly stalker. But it’s so difficult to tell him off when this is the longest anyone has seen him sober. Especially when he wakes up at normal hours every day and indulges in hobbies he knows you like in the hope of impressing you. This is still despite not having met you since that day. It’s hard to tell him to go back to isolating himself and indulging in little more than slowly destroying his health. And so what if knowing how his brother is, it comes at the cost of a stranger? It was a worthy sacrifice, in Viktor's eyes, if his brother could feel a sense of normalcy for the first time in his life.

According to his original plan, Alexei was going to ‘coincidentally’ meet you again and formally introduce himself. He was going to court you and go on dates with you like normal couples do, he would propose after a year with him. He didn’t mean to have you wake up with a chain to your ankle but he couldn’t help himself when he saw your attention shifting from him to someone else. He got anxious thinking all his plans had been for nothing, as he pictured you with another man while he could do nothing but offer you bitter congratulations.

As you nervously sat in front of him in the dim office, Alexei couldn’t help but smile, taking in the sight before he continued. “Despite your skill, you still haven’t gotten a main role yet, have you, [name]?”

You knew how this went, so many of the company's favourite ballet dancers had used similar means after all, but it didn’t make you feel any less dirty as you replied. “No, sir.” He looked different from that day, his hair better kept and face not as sunken in as that night. Had you met under different circumstances you would have no qualms against admitting he was a truly handsome man.

“Well, I don’t think that fair, especially for someone as talented as yourself, so, I’d like to offer to sponsor you. Of course, that is, only if you would agree to it.” You almost laughed at this. Alexei was just as aware of this as you, if you dared to deny his offer it would mark the end of your career. You would never dance again. “Sponsor…?” You couldn’t help but feel a shiver run through you as you looked up to find him smiling, it was an unfamiliar expression. Even that accursed night his expressions had been nothing short of pitiful but now he felt like a completely different person.

You couldn’t find it within you to say yes immediately, not when you still remembered the events that took place after you left that hotel room, the way your skin burned as you scrubbed it to try to get rid of that dirty sensation you felt, the way everyone stared at you when you returned to practice at the studio. They had seen you leave with him last night and could clearly see the marks peeking through. It felt unbearable to even think about it.

While you were lost in thought, you failed to notice Alexei now standing behind you as his hands placed on your shoulders.

“You’re a smart girl, you know what I mean, don’t you?”

Everything after that felt like a repeat of that night, the only difference being that this time he was sober throughout, which felt arguably worse. At least he was somewhat consolable that time, a childish pitifulness present in his expression even as he clawed through your skin and took from you with not a shred of remorse. At least then you could console yourself thinking it was a drunken mistake but this time his eyes were clear as day as they bore right into your own. His words were perfectly coherent as he proclaimed his undying love and his movements deliberate and controlled as he twisted your ankle in ways it shouldn't.

Masterlist

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere character #oc #original character #yandere oc #yandere blog #yandere x you #x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere oc #male yandere #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #obsessive yandere #yanderecore #yandere tendencies #yandere community

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usagiarchive · 2 days ago

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angel of the codeine scene — [09] over and and over again

prev / masterlist / afterword

sypnosis. [ 1.6k words. epilogue ] — The end of the suffering and the beginning of a new start.

usagi's note: HI i hope u guys read my afterword, there is so much i wanna say, but in case u guys, don't read it, i just really wanna say thanku for choosing to read this, ily guys, thanks for reading until the end <3

Rex Lapis was not indifferent.

He tries really hard to give Liyue and its people the epilogue after the war, to preserve the peace they protect, and to give his remaining yaksha the epilogue he deserves.

He tries, really.

Because he couldn't give the same to himself.

In a war where you are blessed to find love, you will be cursed to choose who to protect. Yourself? Your people? Or your lover?

There are no multiple choices, you can only choose one.

Rex Lapis had to find out the hard way.

He sends for Baizhu-yisheng and Changsheng-xiaoren again, just to make sure his warrior doesn't lose hope.

To make sure he doesn't have regrets.

To make sure he gets his own epilogue.

At sunset, they perform the ritual once again.

…

The hair on the back of Xiao's next rose once he saw the golden beacon of light once more.

He's seen this once.

Back when…

He… it… he doesn't want to hope.

The Conqueror of Demons hears his god's summons. He goes.

…

“Are you sure it's alright to do this…?” Baizhu asks as he helps clothe your…? (was it still you?) body…? into new garments.

“To do what?” Rex Lapis asks as he ties your hair up.

You- or rather what Baizhu thinks is a reincarnation of you, has been blinking sleepily for the past half hour, leaning over to Liyue’s Archon.

“To bring her back to life?”

“Hm…” The Archon thinks as he pets your head, “She's not dead, hasn't been at all,”

Baizhu's eyebrows knit together, waiting for the man to explain.

“But, the scene at Luhua Pool?”

He merely laughs, “Simply to immortalize her,” he says, “Luhua Pool is a door to a different plane of existence, it serves to preserve her memories and soul,”

Rex Lapis’ eyes stare at him and smile, “This right here is only a body, a… shell of sorts,”

Baizhu feels horrified at this but at the same time he is intrigued, with this kind of creation, would it be possible to immortalize a normal human?

“Worry not, this has been done many times before, I've done this with Ganyu, too, though her place of transmission was different, Cloud Retainer and Moon Carver have gone through a similar process back in the war,”

Changsheng hisses amusedly at her companion's reaction.

“Baizhu-yisheng, Changsheng-xiaoren? Would you accompany me to Luhua Pool?”

…

There are only a few times Xiao has felt sick to his stomach.

The first was when he was told to eat dreams for the first time.

The second was when he lost you at the river.

The third was when he learned that the other Yaksha had succumbed to death.

And the fourth was when he realized he killed you.

Seeing Luhua Pool again, with Rex Lapis' back to him, was the fifth.

The Archon knew of his presence even before he neared the ground.

“Xiao,” he greets.

“Morax,” Xiao kneels.

“Stand.”

Weapons do not question their wielder. Servants do not question their masters. Demons do not question their gods-

He faces his Archon, “Why?”

Rex Lapis steps aside and he sees…

You.

Zhongli lets out a small sad smile when he sees the warrior buckle at the knees at the sight of you.

“I… How… Is this… Is this a mockery? A punishment?” his warrior says as he tries his hardest not to show emotion in front of his god.

“No, Xiao,” he says as he places a shoulder on his and guides him to you, “A solace.”

“A reprieve.”

“I don't- I don't understand- why would-”

“Would you like to do the honors of bringing her back to you?”

You stare at him with curiosity as Zhongli guides Xiao to you.

You're quiet again.

“Dip her in the water, she already knows what to do, you just need to hold her, I'll take care of the rest,” his voice ever assuring.

“Qingxin…”

Xiao carries you in his arms, the same way he did when he brought you here to rest, he slowly eases you into the water, eyes on you the whole time, watching for any sign of discomfort.

But you only stared back at him, holding nothing of the memories from before.

“Close your eyes, okay?” he murmurs.

Once he sees you nod and your eyes flutter shut, he lowers you deeper into the water until your face is submerged and Rex Lapis begins to chant with Changsheng.

“Qingxin,” Xiao closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours under the water.

“Come back to me.”

…

In the dusk, among the quiet of the night, Luhua Pool glows with beauty, the fireflies string around to illuminate and enhance the reflection of the moon above.

…

Your hand catches onto the back of Xiao's neck and he lifts your face above the water.

The chanting from the two has already ended and they stand to watch as the conqueror of demons wipe away the water from your face as you cough a bit.

His hand stays to cup your face.

“Xiansheng?”

Tears drip onto your face without him even realising it.

“Forgive me,” he chokes on his words, “I never- I never meant to- to hurt you, or- or to lose control, I- I should've been faster, I should've- should've asked for- asked for he-”

“Hey, hey, no,” you say as you pull him into your neck, “I'm fine, I'm here, I'm with you,”

Xiao sobs even harder into your neck, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry,” he repeats over and over.

You pull Xiao, your Xiao, into your arms and give him the tightest embrace you could muster with your current strength right now and he bunches the back of your hanfu as he hugs you loosely, not wanting to hurt you with his strength.

As he buries his face into your neck, you're caught with the sight of Morax looking at the two of you with a smile, Baizhu-yisheng and Changsheng-xiaoren nowhere to be found.

“Thank you,” you mouth.

He nods and leaves in a trail of golden light.

You thread your fingers into Xiao's hair and he sighs the last of his sobs into your skin.

“Xiansheng, should we go home?”

Xiao pulls away from you and nods, wiping at his face with his hands, you giggle as you help him, his eyes still rimmed with red.

“Come now, we have a lot to talk about,” you say and he warps away.

…

That night was the most you've ever heard Xiao talk, or at least according to your memories, which were still a bit fuzzy, but you remember enough from your first reincarnation.

The memories from your time with Xiao in the war were even fuzzier now, as if they were books you've read but can't remember the context of, only returning in feelings or scents.

Xiao has apologized more than eighty times that night, his tears endless as you comfort him in your arms.

“Don't worry, now that the whole reincarnating thing is an option, you won't get rid of me so easily,”

“I wish not to be rid of you at all,” he says, voice still stuffy from crying.

“How cute,” you say as you pinch the cheek that wasn't resting on your chest, “The conqueror of demons all so soft,”

…

The two of you talk for the rest of the night, helping each other understand, and taking the time to make him understand that it wasn't his fault.

Xiao promises never to hurt you again and you promise never to leave his side for too long.

After all, his karmic debt, even if significantly reduced by your previous incarnation, was still active.

You decide to get tea with Morax the next day.

…

“Ah, that,” he says as he pours a fruit blend tea, sunsettia and apple tea, “Well, to be frank with you, I haven't the slightest idea of how you reduced his karmic debt,”

“Wait, you mean to tell me that you created me to 'heal him', but you yourself have no idea how to?”

It was… a bit unnerving for Xiao to hear you question his Archon so openly.

“Yes, forgive me, dear, I only wanted a reprieve for your beloved,” he says and takes a sip of his tea.

“That's so… hmph,” you huff and take a sip of your tea.

“Well, what about how I heal him?” You ask a different question.

“I have my suspicions that it aided your untimely death,” Morax says.

“What?”

“Well, the universe must find balance, to take is to be given, and to be given is to take.”

Xiao's brows knit together, “Are you saying she died because she healed me?”

“Yes, Xiao, although I can bring her back, so I do not think it will be an issue, on another note, too, the karmic debt does not further resurface after she somehow heals it,”

The warrior holds his head, that was… a lot of information to take in… he takes a look at you and sighs, this will surely be your topic for the night.

“Wait, I don't get it, if you could bring me back, why didn't you bring Guizhong-xiangsheng back?”

The Archon smiles sadly.

“Because her body didn't have a medium to preserve her memories,” he paused, “She did not want to be reincarnated, she told me so,”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” you apologize as you pour him another cup of tea.

He laughs at that, “No worries, my child, it is in the past, I'm sure wherever Guizhong is now, she is happier and at peace,”

He looks up at the sky and feels the breeze flow through his hair.

As you look at Xiao, who seems to enjoy the breeze of the wind, too, you think.

You'll choose Xiao.

You'll choose to reincarnate.

You'll heal him and rid him of his karmic debt.

Over and over again.

Until you both get the epilogue you deserve.

prev / masterlist / afterword

usagi's note: ITS 😭 OVER 😭 I 😭 CANT 😭 BELIEVE 😭 IT 😭 im so thankful to everyone who read seriously ily all, to those in the taglist, tysm, i never would've imagined people would actually read this, pls read the afterword if u have time!! im gonna say a lot there, i hope u all take care mwa !! see u next time gbye!!

taglist (open!! green can't be tagged): @irenedoesthings @cherrysnows @makuzume @smoochi-modest @bvtterflyyy @original-person @aphxdea @iratempestatis @constellationguy @lloversss @femaholicc @arietheyluv

@usagiarchive 2025. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

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crowleysgirl56 · 2 days ago

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Good Omens season 3/finale thought of the day:

So today’s thought is to discuss a potential confirmed filming location. Due to the nature of this as a possible spoiler (because understandably there are some out there who wish to remain completely unspoilt until the finale airs) I shall place all my thoughts under the cut!

We’ve seen a couple of filming locations pop up on the socials but the one I wanted to focus on is Tills bookshop and cafe in Edinburgh (photo credit taken from a Google search).

First things first, this is a super cute bookshop and goddamn I wish I was in the UK just so I could pop over and visit it regardless of the fact that it’s a possible filming location for Good Omens. I love me a cute bookshop especially if it’s also a cafe.

Now that’s out of the way OMG WHY IS THERE ANOTHER SUPER CUTE BOOKSHOP?! WHY HAS THE FANDOM NOT BEEN GOING OUT OF THEIR GOD DAMN MINDS ABOUT THIS YET?! WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

Speculation time! What is the significance of this bookshop? I have thoughts and theories below each more outlandish than the next!:

- Aziraphale has opened another bookshop that no one, not even Heaven or Crowley is aware of.

- Crowley opened his own bookshop to feel close to his angel (that’s where he was driving off to at the conclusion of the final 15).

- Aziraphale falls, has his memory wiped, and ends up working in this bookshop, thinking he’s human and Crowley finds him here! (Cue this thought of the day).

- it belongs to another angel and is also an embassy for Heaven. Turns out a bunch of angels started opening up embassies and modelled them after Aziraphale’s because that’s what they thought they should be. Aziraphale had no idea this was happening.

- it will have something to do with the book of life. Perhaps Aziraphale hides it in this bookshop. Or Aziraphale/Crowley/Muriel needs to go find it because it’s missing and there’s a rumour it might be here (or any bookshop and this is one of the ones they visit).

- there’s no real significance to it. Characters happen to be in Edinburgh (or perhaps anywhere) and they happen upon this shop and just go in for mundane reasons. Crowley might even give a bored quip about another bookshop.

- the fact that it also doubles as a coffee shop is interesting. Could it be somewhere the Metatron like to hang out?

- does something happen to Aziraphale’s bookshop? Do they cast a miracle to change it, perhaps disguise it maybe, and this is what it now looks like?

- perhaps it’s an alternate universe? (I know I’m starting to reach here)

- maybe Aziraphale and Crowley really do become humans in the end with no memories of their past and Aziraphale works in this bookshop and Crowley finds him here (HAHA! I choose violence!)

So what are your thoughts? Please let me know your theories and headcanons. I’d love to speculate more!

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens thought of the day #good omens season 3 #good omens theories #good omens discussions #good omens fandom #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens finale

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mya-valentine · 1 day ago

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February 10th - Let The World Burn by Chris Grey - Ex Husband!Sosuke Aizen x Reader

The world was quiet in the way only the aftermath of destruction could bring—an eerie silence, the air thick with ash and the metallic tang of devastation. You stood amidst the ruins of Karakura Town, your eyes fixed on the horizon. A blood-orange sky bled into the endless fog of despair, casting its ominous glow on the broken world below. You should have been frightened, but fear had long since been replaced by something more numbing: a hollow resignation.

"Sōsuke," you whispered, the name leaving your lips like a prayer and a curse.

"Still saying my name like that," his voice called out from behind you, smooth as silk and just as deceptive. "As if it belongs to you."

You turned to face him, and there he stood, an image of unshakable poise amidst chaos. Sōsuke Aizen, your ex-husband, the man you had once loved more than life itself. His captain's haori fluttered faintly in the wind, though its pristine white was marred by soot and blood. He was no longer the man you had fallen for—the gentle soul with an enigmatic smile and a warm laugh that only you seemed to elicit. No, this Aizen was something entirely different, entirely otherworldly, yet still hauntingly familiar.

"You did this," you said, your voice trembling, anger and sorrow intertwining in equal measure. "You burned everything."

"And I’d do it again," he replied without hesitation, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as they roamed your face. "For you."

The weight of his words fell upon you like the collapsing structures of the town. You shook your head, disbelief mingling with the gnawing ache in your chest. "Don't put this on me, Sōsuke. You made your choices."

His gaze softened momentarily, a fleeting flicker of something human behind those cold, calculating eyes. "You think I had a choice?" he asked, stepping closer. "The moment you left, my world began to crumble. Do you truly believe I’d let it fall apart without taking everyone else down with me?"

The wind carried his words, slicing through the air and straight into your heart. Memories flooded back—how it all began, how you had loved him, how he had charmed you with his intellect and quiet strength. You had believed in him, trusted him, stood by his side even as whispers of his ambitions began to surface. And when his true nature was revealed, you had walked away, leaving him and everything you had built together behind.

"You were never satisfied," you said, your voice breaking. "You always wanted more—more power, more control. I couldn't stay and watch you destroy yourself."

"And yet here you are," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Drawn back to me, as if by fate."

You hated how he could still read you so well. Despite everything, a part of you had hoped he could be saved—that somewhere beneath the layers of manipulation and arrogance, the man you once loved still existed. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise. This was not a man who sought redemption. This was a man who would let the world burn for his own desires.

"I came to stop you," you said firmly, though your resolve wavered under his penetrating gaze.

He laughed softly, a sound devoid of warmth. "Stop me? My dear, you should know better. You can’t stop what’s already in motion. The world is my chessboard, and I am its master. And you…" He stepped even closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, like the embers of the destruction he had wrought. "You are my queen."

You recoiled as if struck. "I was never a piece in your game, Sōsuke. And I won’t be now."

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. "You misunderstand," he said softly. "You were never just a piece. You were the reason I played at all."

Tears pricked at your eyes despite yourself. "Then why? Why do this? Why destroy everything?"

His expression darkened, the softness vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Because if I cannot have you, no one can." His voice was calm, but there was a chilling edge to it, an undercurrent of unyielding obsession. "I let you go once, and it nearly destroyed me. I won’t make the same mistake again."

"You can't control me," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desperation. "I’m not yours to keep."

His eyes glinted with something dangerous, something unrelenting. "Aren’t you?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Even now, you carry the mark of my love, whether you acknowledge it or not."

He was right, and you hated him for it. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how far you had run, the ghost of him lingered—his touch, his words, his very presence etched into your soul like a scar. But you couldn’t let him win. Not this time.

"You’re a fool, Sōsuke," you said, your voice steady despite the tears streaming down your face. "You think love is about possession, about control. But love is sacrifice. It’s letting go."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face—regret, perhaps, or something close to it. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "Love is power," he countered. "And I will wield it as I see fit."

With that, the ground beneath you began to tremble. The sky darkened further, the air thickening with reiatsu so oppressive it felt as though the world itself was suffocating. He was showing you the extent of his power, the lengths he would go to keep you bound to him.

"Sōsuke, stop!" you cried, but your voice was drowned out by the deafening roar of the collapsing world around you.

"Do you see now?" he said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "This is what I am willing to do for you. For us."

But there was no "us" anymore. There hadn’t been for a long time. And as much as it tore at your heart, you knew what you had to do. You summoned every ounce of strength within you, focusing your reiatsu into a single, desperate attack. If you couldn’t reach the man you once loved, then you would stop the monster he had become.

"I’m sorry, Sōsuke," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

The blast of your energy collided with his, a brilliant explosion of light and power that illuminated the ruins of Karakura Town. When the dust settled, you were on your knees, gasping for breath. Aizen stood before you, seemingly unscathed, though his expression was unreadable.

"You’re strong," he said, almost admiringly. "Stronger than I gave you credit for."

"It doesn’t matter," you said, forcing yourself to your feet. "I’ll keep fighting you, Sōsuke. Until my last breath, I’ll fight."

He studied you for a long moment, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite decipher. "Perhaps that’s why I loved you," he said finally. "Your fire, your defiance. It’s intoxicating."

"Then let me go," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "If you ever truly loved me, let me go."

For a moment, you thought he might. His hand twitched at his side, his expression softening just enough to give you hope. But then, he stepped back, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"No," he said simply. "I’d rather let the world burn."

And with that, he vanished, leaving you alone amidst the ashes of what once was. You sank to the ground, your strength finally giving out. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, all you could do was mourn—mourn the man you had loved, the life you had lost, and the world that had been consumed by his ambition.

As the blood-orange sky darkened into night, you whispered his name one last time, the echo of it swallowed by the silence of a world on the brink of oblivion.

Masterlist

#sosuke aizen #aizen sosuke x reader #bleach aizen #aizen #aizen x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #bleach #bleach x reader #SoundCloud

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theiaphage · 14 hours ago

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This is a really well worded post and I generally agree! However, I think I got another angle of this same conclusion based on the idea that Amy's original redemption arc never really concluded only to backslide -- rather, that her expectations about redemption fundamentally change what that redemption arc means in-text

Like you say, it absolutely falls well within the typical narrative-trope parameters of the expected 'redemption arc,' she hits all the core points -- but, like with a lot of tropes related to pain, trauma, healing, forgiveness and so on, the typical narrative portrayal isn't often a realistic one. In that way I think Amy acts as both a good example and, with further context, a deconstruction of the redemption arc, because under further examination a lot of the arc itself isn't necessarily as positive as it first came off. In so many of her attempts, she's trying to do better according to all she knows when surrounded by the worst influences possible. She doesn't have a solid safe role model, and hasn't for her entire life. Someone to tell her that sometimes you just won't be forgiven, that not every fight ends with a hug and back-to-normal at the end.

In that way, Amy's attempts at doing the right thing in Worm, though absolutely noble in conscious intent, still betray a few of her failings and the places she was failed. Like you say, she really does try to get better, she does the things she may know broadly lead to healing or help or forgiveness, but a lot still ends up being more about her than her efforts.

The tattoo here absolutely stands out to me -- even before Ward went and had her all but explicitly say that the tattoo holds a different meaning now, even in Worm it still seemed imperfect, questionable potentially, but with heart behind it. It was a memorialization of pain and a reminder to do better -- but like so many pieces of art about pain or failure, it could inadvertently romanticize the subject just as much as it condemns it. Amy is, in a very real way, actively working this tragedy into a part of a narrative -- one she tries to use for growth, but ultimately fails in.

I'm trying not to be too harsh on Amy here, but vibes-wise I'm reminded somewhat of something like an ex-boyfriend, leaving flowers at the door of someone who dumped him, or cry-singing a song about how they were a bad boyfriend on the car drive home. Sure, the pain is real, the acknowledgement of failure likely is as well, but at some point the gesture becomes more about the boyfriend's pain than the actual relationship, or even the breakup. In this moment Victoria, a victim who literally cannot speak for herself in this instance, is 'memorialized' in a very real sense, turned into a symbol by a person that already as a base nature of their power and life can feel so disconnected from the humanity of others.

So many of these choices by Amy center her -- her attempted growth, her attempted retribution, her attempted change. It's the kind of thing that in real life really can be done for the right reasons, but can also be done for worse ones -- that ex-boyfriend working out thinking of their ex, getting a job thinking of their ex, hanging a picture of their ex above their bed to motivate them to get up in the morning. Amy's actions aren't even this extreme or pointed, but I view it as them sharing a sort of kernel of trying to do better because they really want (or even need) better in turn -- and thus, Amy's arc in Ward is what happens when the textbook redemption arc doesn't work.

When all those acts of memoriam, distance, betterment, health, are done with the kernel of hope in your mind that it means you'll be forgiven, that it all will be fine again and you can go back to how it was.

And that's why I see her redemption arc as never having completed -- she's trying, she's hitting the right steps, but ultimately at the conclusion of this redemption (which I would argue is a long period of time, starting with Vicky's new body and coming back up again for a while) would come when those attempts were tested, when Victoria refuses to forgive her and she's forced to either accept her betterment without Victoria, or let go of it and keep pushing for her -- she begins to choose the later.

In this way it's less of a backslide and more of a recontextualizing moment. She is backsliding in behavior, but it's not that she got foundationally better and then became foundationally worse again, and more so that she tried to get better, put in real effort, but ultimately failed. This version worked for me because it seems to be what Amy acts like right out of the gate; annoyed that Vicky won't accept her, continually trying to do things 'for' her or based on her happiness when Victoria wants nothing to do with any of that.

These give some context to her past actions, allow you to re-examine Worm in a way that both provides answers and adds a new layer in a way many readers (myself included) missed at first simply because yeah, Amy's arc does have all the pieces of a redemption arc, and it takes Ward to get people thinking about whether or not those pieces add up.

I do want to state to conclude that yeah, her portrayal (and especially the initial choice to tell this story surrounding Amy of all people) has its issues, many major, but the portrayal of someone who falls into toxicity and abuse because they thought they were doing everything right and still didn't get what they wanted out of it; A person who still didn't get that one selfish prize they latched onto in a moment of pain that they tried to be a saint to deserve or make up for wanting? Yeah, that's pretty unique and powerful, and despite its flaws it really hits home as an accurate-to-the-point-of-painfulness portrayal.

Okay, fuck it, I've built up enough goodwill with this sideblog - let's risk it all by sharing my opinions on how Amy is handled in Ward.

It's kinda complicated I think.

Okay, now that I've resisted the urge to immediately hit post for the bit: I think the way her interludes are written substantially flattens her character in a way that I find distasteful and unpleasant, but I find the overall shape of her arc and her role in the narrative compelling. The things I dislike have been well-covered by plenty of other people in the fandom, so I'm going to focus on the things I like.

To talk about Amy's role in Ward, I first need to talk about my interpretation of Ward as a whole. To me, Ward is, above all else, about trauma and recovery. Society is traumatized by the end of the world, the shards are traumatized by the death of Scion and their loss of purpose, individuals are traumatized by all the things individuals are traumatized by. As an aside, this reading is a big reason why I'm not too bothered by a lot of the world building choices that other people frequently (and fairly) criticize - I think many of them serve this theme effectively.

One specific facet of that reading that I find particularly compelling is Ward's interest in people who are traumatized not just by the harm done to them, but by the harm they've done. Characters don't just regret what they've done, they don't just want to be better, they are traumatized by it, and their reactions to that trauma are as messy and complicated as any other traumatized people. I don't always agree with the stances the text takes on how to deal with having done harm and been traumatized as a result, but I find the exploration of the topic compelling.

Enter The Altruistic Amy Dallon.

Amy's arc in Worm was, to a degree, a prototype of this kind of storytelling. She is repeatedly and horrifically traumatized, the actions she eventually takes in response to that experience inflict equally horrific trauma on her victim, and she is further traumatized by her own actions almost to the point of ego death. She removes herself from the environment she was in, begins rebuilding her sense of identity and ethics, and reemerges having grown, prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations for her past actions as best she can. Arc done! It's satisfying and cathartic, and we leave content in the knowledge that the part she's on will take her to better places. It's the quintessential appeal of a redemption arc, and it's a strong example of its type.

There's something people like to say a lot when talking about mental health and personal growth in real life, and that is that progress isn't linear. It's an important truth to understand.

It's rarely true in fiction. Very often, in redemption arcs, in personal growth arcs, after a series of false starts and setbacks, the character reaches a critical point where they resolve their conflict and either overcome it or succumb to it. From that point on, their nature or behavior is fundamentally changed - if they've grown they never relapse past a certain point, or do so only fleetingly, or else never improve past a certain point. This makes sense from a storytelling perspective, but it doesn't map to how growth often works in real life.

In Ward, Amy occupies the very rare narrative position of being who completes her arc of growth and redemption, who crosses that critical threshold of lasting, meaningful change... but backslides anyway, to the point of essentially losing all that progress.

It's an outcome that I find very believable for her, honestly. Her newfound worldview and conviction were forged in the very insular environment of the Birdcage - of course they would be impacted by her new environment. She says at the end of Ward that she had been able to excuse all of her worst behavior because she had convinced herself that she could fix anything - and at the end of Worm, I can see how she would come to think that! She's been pardoned and released from Forever Prison, she overcame her old aversion to brains to create Khepri and thereby saved the world, she's formed a positive relationship with the father she never thought she'd meet, she's receiving love and support from parents she never felt good enough for, she's using her powers to help people in a way that doesn't make her want to die, and she even "fixed" Victoria, when failing to do that before was the final nail in the coffin she just finished clawing her way out of! The sheer number of seemingly impossible things she's accomplished, of apparently irreversible failures she's seemingly put right, is mind boggling! It'd be the easiest thing in the world to let that go to your head!

Her social circle is also a perfect environment to enable her worst tendencies - there's no one left in it whose opinion she trusts that's willing to call her on her shit. Marquis doesn't see anything wrong with her behavior, Carol is trying to make up for a decade of neglect and unwarranted criticism, Mark just wants everybody to get along and be happy, and Riley and Rinke are pretty shaky on this whole human decency thing themselves! With a (not unjustified) pride in how far she'd come, a circle of willing enablers, a complete lack of moderating influences, and a bulletproof get-out-of-moral-culpability-free card, and two years to spiral, I find her backsliding to be completely believable. And given that Victoria is the fly in the ointment to all of this, that her continued refusal to have anything to do with Amy gives lie to Amy's belief that she can fix anything, and thereby puts the entire edifice of her self-rationalizations at risk, it also makes perfect sense to me that Amy would become fixated on her, on proving that she really can fix anything.

Of course, being believable isn't the same thing as being compelling. The thing that makes all this so resonant for me is that, at the end of Ward, after being this grasping spectre that haunts Victoria the whole book, after rejecting countless opportunities to demonstrate a hint of self-awareness or the slimmest motivation to change - Amy does. She sits down with a therapist. She rips off the band-aid - both the metaphorical one and the literal one made out of Victoria's skin, jesus christ Amy - looks at what she's done, at how she went awry, and resolves to do better. And we end with her in essentially the same place she was at the end of Worm: prepared to do better going forward and to make reparations as best she can. But the journey she has taken to get there gives the destination entirely new meaning for me. She's already fumbled her chance at redemption! But her journey gives lie to the idea that you only have one chance, or two, or any finite number! Every moment you draw breath is a chance to do better.

To me, Amy Dallon's arc in Ward shows that the most important step you can take is the next one, and no matter how many times you walk up and down that road, it never stops being true. And I find that compelling as hell.

#worm #ward #parahumans #wildbow

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