#but i'm gonna bring them back bc i realise that not everyone wants a 1 way ticket into my brain

[fairefolked]

so i know i've been annoying on main recently. i'm moving atm and i don't rlly have time or energy to do edits or post sims content, and i have a lot of feelings and thoughts that i have nowhere to share so this tends to be a dumping ground for me, so if any of u are getting sick of me, i will be tagging text posts as *txt so pls block that tag if u don't wanna see it :)

[apathbacktoyou]

Okay since I didn't even know you were doing this and now that I know I'm gonna spam you with them. (sorry,notsorry). - Also feel free to not do any of them ofc xd. All of these are Bellamort cause I'm a sucker for them. 1 - the one where soulmates are reincarnated and keep finding each other throughout their different lives. 2 - the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you hear them say your name (imagine Bella only calling Voldy 'Tom' at the final Battle and only then - oh, my heart)

hello new fave person in the universe, pls spam me with bellamort, it’s both my main reason for living and 89% of my personality at this point

doing 2 first bc what is order or logic

The first time he speaks to her, she’s newly wed, and still forgets to react half the time someone adresses her as Madame Lestrange. She ends up looking behind herself for Rod’s mother rather more often than she’d admit if anyone pointed it out to her.

But there is something in his eyes that she can’t quite put a name to that always reminds her he’s speaking to her, no matter how unused she is to the new name. She almost likes it from his mouth.

She remains Madame Lestrange for a while, until she’s inducted into the Inner Circle, and is from then on called by her surname, like everyone else.

She still thinks the same name sounds different, somehow, when he’s speaking to her, and not her husband or brother-in-law.

Or maybe she just imagines it does because she wants it to. It’s more likely, if she’s honest with herself, since Roddy and Rabastan both turn aswell when he says their surname behind them.

The Dark Lord looks exasperated for a moment, then clarifies,”Bellatrix.“

She’s two steps towards him already when she stops dead in her tracks. Rod throws her an irritated look but then takes up conversation with his brother again. The Dark Lord wears a similar facial expression.”Is there a problem, Bellatrix?“

There it is again. And the feeling hasn’t gone away. She has no words for what it is. A sense of recognition, perhaps. The feeling of returning home. She opens her mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. She swallows hard, trying to keep her voice and hands from shaking.

“You’ve never called me that before,“she finally forces out; it sounds almost neutral. Her mind is reeling. She’d never thought - she hadn’t even truly believed - she takes another few steps towards him, tries not to let any sign of her inner turmoil show outside.

“I suppose I haven’t,“he says slowly, eyeing her with something close to suspicion.

She thinks he must know. She’s long gone from Bellatrix to Bella, and neither of them have ever brought up that first time he called her by her name. But she’s sure he must know.

She never bothers closing her mind to him. And even if he hasn’t seen it in her mind, he must feel it, surely.

She doesn’t dare ask. Doesn’t think she could bear the wrong answer. Yet sometimes she considers just blurting out his name, just so she’ll have to wonder no longer. Just so she isn’t the only one who knows. But she always bites her lip to keep the urge at bay.

Because he looks at her as if he has guessed, and says nothing, so neither does she.

“Bella?“he says softly, almost not audible over the storm raging outside. She’s half asleep already, just slightly turning her face towards him. She can’t see more than his vague outline in the light of the near-extinct fireplace.”My lord?“

There’s a long pause after that.”You don’t always have to call me that. You do realise that, yes?“

“What should I call you, then?“ It never even had occured to her not to. She’s too tired to wonder why he suddenly cares.

“Voldemort,“he says, and suddenly she’s wide awake.”You could call me Voldemort.“

There is a question in his voice. Her mouth is uncomfortably dry all of a sudden. She can’t bring herself to do it. She’s convinced herself she’ll be alright with never knowing.

“I’ll keep that in mind,“she says instead, and he doesn’t push the matter.

When she finally does end up using his name, it’s not something she planned or even decided to do.

They’re in battle when she’s that split second too slow and the curse hits her. She’d just deflected it enough to only be caught in the leg, but her bones shatter, and she goes down.

He catches her before she hits the ground. The moment of distraction costs him dearly. The pain is so blinding that for a second that stretches into eternity, she doesn’t understand. Doesn’t think of what it means that he slowly sinks to his knees, that his fingers are digging into her side so hard it hurts; she absurdly thinks the drops falling on her face are rain. But they’re too warm for that, and far too red.

He’s gotten his shield charm up again, somehow. She manages to apparate them both away, somehow.

“Help!“she screams into what she hopes is not an empty manor.”Help! Please, we need help!“

She can’t go for help herself. One leg barely more than a battered bit of meat, the other trapped under his body. She’s no good at healing charms. Why the fuck is she no good at healing charms?

His blood is soaking through both their robes, making her hands slick and even more useless when she hopelessly presses them to the cuts across his chest, trying to somehow stem the bleed.

“You can’t die,“she says, not remembering the truth to that in her panicked state.”Please, you can’t die, you can’t. Please.“

His heartbeat is growing fainter under her fingers, and when he opens his mouth to reply, blood drips down his chin.”Calm down, Bella. It’ll be fi-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit,“she snaps, one shaking hand moving to cup his face, leaving bloody fingerprints on his pale skin.”Don’t give me that shit when you’re only hurt because you were helping me.“

The house elves have found them now, and their magic is good enough, inferior little creatures though they are. She doesn’t turn her attention away from him.”I don’t want to live in a world without you, Voldemort.“

“You said my name,“he says, somewhere between surprise and disappointment.

“I did,“she confirms.

As he slips into unconsciousness, she closes her eyes and wills back the tears.

She keeps calling him Voldemort anyway. She may not be his soulmate, yet he is hers, and allows her this intimacy. That’s something, that’s close to enough.

“Well, that was horribly anti-climatic,“he says as his followers turn to leave the forest, and Bellatrix laughs, a teasing glint in her eyes.”As teenage nemeses are wont to be. You brought it onto yourself when you messed up killing a toddler.“

From anyone else, this would be reason to end them on the spot. Bella can always get away with such impertinence. And she isn’t entirely wrong, either. Still, he puts on a stern face.“Careful, dear, you’ll get yourself into trouble if you keep on like that.“

“Oh, I do hope I will,“she quips in a sultry voice.

He can’t keep the small smile from creeping onto his face.”Well, aren’t you in a particularly giddy mood.“

“Maybe it’s being back on school grounds.“ She shrugs.”Strange, isn’t it? Kind of brings out the kid you used to be.“

“Not for me,“he says, deciding to humour her.”Although I’d wager I wasn’t all that childish even as a child, so it is hard to tell.’“

She rolls her eyes.“Of course not. Little Tom was too busy building himself his following, was he?“

The joke dies on her lips at the look on his face; he is utterly stunned. They’ve never discussed it but she figured he knew she knew. Hell, everyone knows. Purebloods can recite bloodlines backwards in their sleep; you can’t reveal yourself as Slytherin’s heir without them knowing you are that Gaunt girl’s messy little secret.

The kind of secret everyone just politely ignored, granted, much the way no one said anything about her spending more nights in the Dark Lord’s chambers than in her husband’s house.

“Too far?“she asks. He comes out of his stupor at that, though his smile is still gone.”I’ll let that slide for now. Now go win me that castle.“

He watches her go. His mind is reeling. He’d never truly thought - he hadn’t even believed - he shakes the thought away and follows his army toward the castle.

He’ll tell her after the battle.