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jedi-starbird · 1 year ago

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A happier galaxy where the disaster lineage is somewhat less on fire constantly and senior padawan Obi-wan has developed a fixation on Mandalorians:

Sometimes Feemor regretted just how much he had given away when he had spent 5 expensive months bribing a traumatised Obi-wan to call him brother when he was 14. His dignity, for one, his access codes and shadow cloaking techniques, another. So he had a very dignified reaction when he was awoken to the shine of his younger brother's eyes in the dark at the foot of his bed. "I wou-stop screaming it's just me-I would like a Mandalorian. How do I procure one?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

Obi-wan scowled as if Feemor was being difficult, he wasn't, he wasn't quite awake enough for that yet. "You're a shadow, you're supposed to know things."

Ah, if being a shadow granted you the secrets of the universe instead of just a great many planetary governments, Feemor wouldn't spend so much time wondering what dark rituals Dooku had committed to result in Qui-gon Jinn. (He already knew what regular rituals Qui-gon had committed to result in Obi-wan)

"I know that I'm about to punt you out of my room right now."

"...My birthday is coming up, I believe I deserve compensation for all the traumas."

Obi-wan's eyes were very big now. Feemor sighed. He flopped back down into bed. He resisted the urge to pull his blankets back up and roll over. 'Oh sure when it's time to see mind healers everything's fine but now-'

"Shouldn't you be asking Master then?"

"Master would not approve of how I plan to use the Mandalorian."

He squinted at Obi-wan for a long moment. Obi-wan stared back. He did some quick mental maths and tried not to feel old. Eh. Fine. Feemor swung his legs out of bed. "You had me at 'Master wouldn't approve'."

"Do you think I could get one by walking into little Keldabe and asking very nicely?"

As it turns out, yes he could. A few too many in fact, apparently Jedi, their ancestral enemy, in the Mando district attracted attention, who knew? Feemor knew, Feemor would have known if only he had been properly awake when this semblence of a plan was proposed. He stalked through the cantina towards Obi-wan who was leaning slightly forwards against a pillar, ah...speaking, to a Mandalorian with painted orange armour while surrounded by a larger crowd of Mandos. At least they seem mostly amused. He ignored the youngers squawk as he yanked the back of his robes so that he moved away from the Mandalorian and spun him around.

"You cannot solve centuries of animosity by batting your eyelashes."

"I'm not batting my eyelashes " Obi-wan sniffed," I'm shaking my ass, there's decidedly more effort involved."

"I miss when I was an only child." Feemor sighed deeply. He used the force to scruff the neck of Obi-wan's robes and dangle him slightly in the air. He ignored the shouting from beside him and bowed politely to the staring Mandos. "My apologies for the disturbance, this will not happ-" He considered his brother who was now yelling out his personal comm code with a wink. " Please excuse us, this very probably will happen again, we shall workshop it. May the force be with you all."

I don't have a fully planned AU but it is Codywan!!! cause I love those bitches but have some more dialogue I came up with for this AU. I'm imagining them both as like 20-23, Obi's close to knighthood. He's still a padawan for this because I think him causing Qui-gon headaches is funny. Feemor fully thinks this complicated courtship dance Obi's created is funny, he likes studying his little brother like a bug, he just wasn't prepared for him to just waltz into little kelbade and start hitting on people, though he really should have been.

Hand wavy timeline with Jaster alive but the clones are still clones, Jango was kidnapped and held in stasis or something, Jaster claimed them as Mandos. This is really just about Obi's first and biggest diplomatic achivement being friendly Jedi-Mando relations purely cause he was in his thot era. This also somehow saves the galaxy from the sith.

I like to imagine that Cody's brothers recorded that little exchange between Fee and Obi on their helmets and uploaded it online where it went viral on MandoNet before going viral galaxywide because wait holy shit is that a Jedi saying that????. Qui-gon gets called in for a very weird meeting where the council's like ok so the entire holonet has seen your padawan being horny on main but also this is like the biggest jump in our diplomatic relationship with the Mandos in centuries so like can we keep this up somehow? This results in Obi-wan being holonet famous, first through vode recordings but then he starts a space tumblr and twitter account and he's famous now. Then his friends and other jedi start accounts because wait we're allowed to do that? and those become big as well and this is literally the best PR the jedi have had in hundreds of years. the holonet loves them. the sith are fuming.

Obi-wan, scoffing: What were they gonna do? Shoot me? Feemor: Yes. Obi-wan: I don't believe in blasters. Bly: ...like as a concept...? Obi-wan: No, spiritually.

Obi-wan: I'm sure there's a nice Mandalorian we can find for you Feemor: I'm not sure those 2 words belong together Obi-wan: No of course not, we can't find a nice one, then they'd be all alone, we need to find an absolute bastard of one so that you two match :)

Obi-wan: Oh so Master gets to take in pathetic life forms but I don't? This one's already domesticated! Wolffe: Debatable. Feemor: Cody's a person! Not a stray tooka! Obi-wan: Master takes in stray people all the time! That's how he got me!

Qui-gon: How do you explain this behaviour Padawan ? Obi-wan: The force pushed me towards the Mandalorians Master, it was quite insistent on me developing better relations with them given our difficult history. Feemor: Fascinating, please do elaborate, I'd love to hear the theological implications of a force-assigned kink.

#yes i will put jedi on social media into everything #i think early 20s menace obi wan with equally menace cody is so good #cody looks at this ginger twink and is like oh theres definitely something wrong with him but he amuses me so hes allowed to stay #cody: obi wan has 57 mental illnesses and is banned from most public spaces how can i not fuck him?#star wars #obi wan kenobi #feemor #codywan #commander cody #feemor and obi wan #jedi order #disaster lineage #star wars fic

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invisibleanonymousmonsters · 1 month ago

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chapter xxvi – gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 5,100+

warning: sex scene [even bigger warning: the first one i've ever written, so it'll probably be very bad 😂]

masterlist

“If we continue paying the farmers this way, it will have consequences on the court’s treasury!" The Master of Coin droned on to the rest of the advisors and Eris.

“Abbán, you have been poisoned by the same greed of the late High Lord Beron,” defended General Domnhall.

He was Eris’ most loyal warrior when he controlled Autumn Court's armies. And once Eris became High Lord, there was no one else he trusted more to take his place as General than him. The male was yet another that, had it had been safe enough, Eris would've considered Domnhall a friend.

General Domnhall had been away from the Forest House since Eris had usurped the throne, in order to protect the Court and assure Eris’ reign was not overtaken or challenged, while also monitoring the borders of Autumn Court.

Eris tried to suppress his smirk at his friend’s defensiveness.

“And what of the funds we gained from trading in human flesh?” Domnhall added darkly.

Eris finally leaned forward, forearms pressing into the oak table. “Do not take me as a fool, Abbán. My father’s greed was always framed as responsible and for the good of the Court. But we all know neither were true. He kept as much as could, so our people were desperate and worked harder for nearly nothing. He did it to control them.”

“They are your subservients!” Abbán’s voice raised.

Eris shot to his feet. “There are my Court!”

From the outburst, his entire body was engulfed in flames that threatened the room, but remained in control at his side.

Everyone at the table tensed.

“A High Lord is meant to bring his Court to glory, not to keep his inhabitants weak and scared of his power,” Eris continued evenly. “You and I both know there is plenty of coin, Abbán. Rid yourself of the illness that is greed, or I will find a Master of Coin who can.”

Abbán swallowed nervously.

But Eris continued. “In the past, we have relied too heavily on the interest of other Courts to purchase our goods. We shall start trading to the Mortal Realm and to the fae of Spring Court.”

There was instantly murmuring amongst the table.

“But High Lord Tamlin could see this as an attempt to take his Court,” one said.

Eris scoffed. “Tamlin cannot even manage his own manor. Do you honestly think he’s paying any attention to the goods being imported through his borders? Lucien will manage the shipments. They trust him. And if their High Lord will not assure his inhabitants are being fed, then I will.”

Abbán knew better than to argue. So, he bowed his head and replied, “Yes, High Lord.”

“We have been at council since dawn, High Lord.” Another spoke gently. “Perhaps that is enough for today…”

“Yes,” Eris agreed in a growl. “It is.” He waved his hand lazily. “You are dismissed.”

He slumped back into his chair, waiting for the others to leave.

Domnhall was the only one that stayed behind, patiently waiting to be left alone with the High Lord.

Eris pretended to not notice.

There was a moment of tense silence shard between the two males.

“Shall I kill him?” Domnhall asked cheerfully.

Eris rolled his eyes. “If I wanted him dead, I could do it myself.”

Domnhall stood and moved closer to his High Lord, hovering about his seat at the council table. “Yes, I am well aware.”

Eris sighed and crossed his arms. “Is there something you needed, Domnhall?”

The general smirked at him. “Get rid of the ol’ git. He is useless. His greed makes him unfit for the role. It is smart a smart move to bring food to Spring Court. They are suffering. And perhaps your charity could bring more to Autumn Court.”

Eris nodded slowly. “How is my army?”

“They are my army now,” Domnhall teased. “And they are well. Some are weary about the civil unrest. None wish to fight against their own, some of which are their families and friends. But they remain loyal to you, Eris – as always.”

During Beron's reign, the army would have followed Eris through anything. They were loyal to him, not Beron. They trusted him, believed in him. But Eris would never have risked their lives to an outright war against his father.

Eris rubbed his face, clearly deep in his head.

“Now, where is that mate of yours?” Domnhall asked with a smile, looking around playfully as if she would appear at any moment. “You have hid her from me for months now. All I know of her are the rumors that spread through the Court.”

Eris cocked his eyebrow at him. “With your history, do you really think I would let you anywhere near her?”

Domnhall only chuckled. He was not shy about his love for females, especially ones who were...unsatisfied with their husbands.

All teasing disappeared as Eris’ gaze darkened. “She wishes to return to the mortal realm. To Y/N, her place is not here, but amongst the humans.”

Domnhall’s smile dropped. “But you are mates…”

“Yes, and that holds little meaning to mortals. She does not see it as we do. She cannot feel the bond.”

“But she is not just a mortal,” Domnhall argued. “She is a witch!”

“If she wishes to leave, who am I to stop her?” Eris finally snapped. “Shall I chain her to the Forest House, hold her captive, make her no more than a prisoner?” He rubbed his face. “It wouldn’t be the first time a High Lord imprisoned a woman in such a manner…”

“Do not compare yourself to Tamlin,” Domnhall spat with disgust. “You keep her here to insure her safety. The mortal realm is unstable as it is – and if anyone found out who she was, she would be endangered. I know your actions are noble, Eris. Your father is no longer here to force your false character. And I know the male you truly are.”

Eris stood, his hands pressing down into the table. “Thank you, Domnhall, for your…loyalty and…”

“Friendship?” The general offered with an amused smirk.

He too now stood. “One day, I hope you can undo your conditioning and actually call me your friend.”

Domnhall started to leave, but paused at the doorway. “And in case you didn’t know, friends usually introduce each other to their mates.”

He winked and disappeared.

—🍁—

Eris needed to see her. His body started to ache when he was away from her for too long. And once she had moved into the Forest House, the aches only grew stronger.

All the talk of her from Domnhall only made him realize the council had been distracting him from the feeling.

And he could ignore it no longer.

Y/N had healed him after the battle, after he had used his beast form for the first time since becoming High Lord.

It had been almost two weeks, since Y/N had healed him after the battle, after he had used his beast form for the first time since becoming High Lord.

And Eris had barely had time to see her since.

Now, he searched for her in the surrounding forest of the manor. It was all enclosed and protected by countless spells of his own magic.

She should not be in any danger here. But it still left him uneasy for her safety.

The trees were getting thicker and he tried to pull on the string that tied him to her. He'd heard of mates calling to each other, yanking at the tie between their hearts and souls.

But Y/N was not fae – even worse, she had not accepted the bond yet.

Instead, Eris came across one of his guards that he had assigned to watch over Y/N.

He bowed immediately. “She is safe, High Lord. Lady Y/N wished for space, I have the guards surrounding her, but keeping out of her sight.”

Eris nodded in thanks. “You and the rest of the guard are relieved of your duties for the day. Thank you for watching over her.”

The guard bowed again, but hesitated before he soflty added, “She was helping the injured all morning, High Lord. Then she immediately went to the archives for hours. I believe she needs some rest.”

Eris gripped the guards shoulder in thanks. A gesture he would’ve never even thought of doing when Beron was still alive and ruling.

He walked forward until there was a break in the trees. The small patch of hilly grass allowed the light of the setting sun to slip through.

In the middle of the clearing was a giant oak tree, its trunk over five feet wide.

And beneath it was his mate, fast asleep on top of a thick blanket. But not alone, for his smoke hounds were an extra layer of protection on top of the guard he assigned to watch over her.

She was wearing a blood red dress made of both velvet and sheer fabric. Even when laying on the grass asleep, she looked utterly beautiful. Her lips were covered in a stain that perfectly matched the color of her dress, and Eris could only assume one of her servants had insisted on the detail.

Eris swore he did not pay the Court’s seamstresses enough for how perfectly they tailored all of Y/N’s clothes.

Per usual, her feet were bare. But somehow hardly dirty for having trounced through the woods.

As soon as Eris took a step into the clearing, all 12 of his smoke hounds – who had been cuddly and guarding Y/N – shot up and growled a warning to him.

Eris whistled lowly, his signal for them to relax, one of many that he had trained into them since they were puppies.

Their growling immediately ceased and a couple even trotted over to give their master a greeting.

The only threat now: Ronan. Y/N’s pet fox, who was not his nor trained by him.

Ronan still growled in warning at Eris, standing protectively at Y/N’s feed as she slept.

Eris chuckled at Ronan, still a kit and not a full-grown fox yet.

Ronan let out a bark when Eris was only a few feet away, and it finally stirred Y/N.

“You woke her, you overprotective runt,” Eris hissed his scold to the fox.

Y/N blinked and reached for her knife. But as soon as her gaze found Eris, her entire body relaxed.

“I apologize for waking you,” Eris quickly told her, hovering where he stood, unsure if he should invade her space or leave.

Y/N gave him a shy grin and then reached out a hand, silently signaling him to join her on the blanket.

Ronan gave another warning growl.

“Hush, Ronan,” Y/N chided, as she picked the fox kit up and moved him on the other side of her, away from Eris. "You know he means no harm.”

Ever so gracefully, Eris walked through the pack of protective smoke hounds and carefully sat on the blanket beside Y/N, his back resting against the trunk of the oak tree.

To his surprise, Y/N scooted closer instantly, resting her head against his chest.

Eris tried to control his heart rate as his mate’s ear lingered right over it. One would think he was some pubescent fae youngling with the way his body reacted to such an innocent gesture. It would be more embarrassing if he was not getting such a thrill from this innocent intimacy.

“What are you doing out here, little witch?” He asked her as he brushed hair behind her ear and off her neck, so he could clearly look down at her face.

Y/N sighed, “I needed some air.”

“Ahh…and what gossip did the wind tell you today?”

Y/N smirked “Nyx took his first steps today. Rhysand cried more about it than Feyre did.”

“What a sentimental fool,” Eris snarked back.

“Do not be rude!” She snapped back with a smile, and pinched his thigh in warning.

As if laughing with them, a small fist of wind flurried around them.

Eris looked down at Y/N. Really she should be wearing a cloak or have another blanket.

Quickly, he slightly jostled her to remove his own cloak, the collar lined with fur.

He wrapped it over Y/N gently.

She smiled. “You didn’t need to do that. What if you get cold?”

Eris rolled his eyes. “Tis only fashion. I am the High Lord of Autumn, a wielder of flame. My blood runs hot and I am almost never cold.”

To prove it further, he held out the hand that wasn’t holding his mate, and lit a fireball in his palm. Then released it into the air. It remained floating around them and Y/N immediately felt its warmth, as if they were sitting near a bonfire.

Y/N cuddled even further into his chest.

She looked up at the trees around them, forever in a state of orange, red, and yellow.

“In the mortal realm, I would wait all year for autumn. I dreamt of the leaves changing all summer. I always yearned for the chill air, the cloudy skies, the rainy days. Summer weighs me down. I hate the heat and the humidity, the sun is overbearing.”

Y/N hesitated before she continued. “When I first entered Autumn, it felt like a cruel joke, being dragged into the most beautiful place I’d ever seen, while bound and enslaved.”

Eris’ body tensed in rage. The ball of fire sparked from his emotions.

There were some days when he wished he could bring his father back, only to torture him for what he did to Y/N, and the mortal women and childcare.

But when Eris managed to stifle his anger, he looked down at Y/N, she had already fallen back asleep.

He whispered to the wind, “It is because you were meant for this place, my mate.”

Then he leaned down to kiss her brow.

The wind brushed through again, as if it agree with his statement.

Suddenly, all he wanted was to join his mate in her peaceful sleep.

Eris whistled to his dogs. Their ears perked up and they all looked to him, waiting for the command.

“Stand guard,” he ordered.

They all scattered, taking on positions in a radius and sitting stiff with watchful eyes to the surrounding forest.

But to Eris’ amusement, Ronan trotted to the edge of the blanket and joined in the reconnaissance and as the last line of defense.

Perhaps Ronan did take orders from him…when it involved his mate’s safety.

—🍁—

Eris awoke almost 2 hours later.

His recent distance from Y/N had made sleeping difficult. And as soon as he had her in his arms, his body relaxed and the exhaustion caught up with him.

Loyal and obedient, his smoke hounds were pacing around them, guarding and surveying the area for any potential threats.

Eris looked down to see that Y/N was still peacefully asleep on his chest.

She needed to eat, and rest in a proper bed.

He whistled again and the smoke hounds sprinted toward him, then sat in a line, awaiting their masters next order.

“With me, back to the Forest House.”

The half the smoke hounds sprinted ahead, while the other half surrounded Eris.

Ronan stayed at Y/N's side.

As carefully as he could, Eris gathered Y/N in his arms. And with a wave of his hand, the blanket disappeared and would arrive in the wash house.

Y/N’s head naturally fell to his shoulder.

Eris walked slowly back to the Forest House, worried that winnowing would wake her.

As soon as they reached the grand hall, a servant paused her work and bowed at their arrival.

“Ready a meal for two and bring it to my bedchambers, please.” Eris ordered.

When they reached his room, Eris gently placed Y/N on his bed.

“Little witch, you must wake soon and eat something.”

She whined at her slumber being interrupted.

“When was the last time you ate?” He asked her with a narrowed gaze.

She shied away at the question, and was smart enough to look a little guilty. For if the tables were turned, it would also upset her to see the High Lord skipping meals and working himself into utter exhaustion.

“That is what I thought,” Eris answered for her.

It only took a few minutes for someone to bring up a meal for them.

It was a sweet looking fae who looked quite young. But Y/N had quickly learned that looks could be deceiving when it came to predicting the age of fae.

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the servant practically carted in a feast for just the two of them.

Eris stood, moving to the cart. “Thank you…” There was an awkward pause. “…Delyth.”

The servant blushed at the High Lord using her first name.

“O-O-Of course, High Lord.” The poor thing stuttered out with a bow.

Eris had been making an effort to address the staff with more kindness and acknowledgment. It was hard to adjust from the way Beron had rule this house. Which was why it was sounded so unfortunately awkward for Eris to address the servant by name.

Feeling a bit braver now, the servant turned a bit to address Y/N directly with a shy smile. “The cooks made sure to include a few apple tarts. The bakers said they have quickly become one of your favorites.”

Y/N beamed at the kindness. “They are! Thank you so very much, Delyth. And please tell everyone in the kitchen thank you, as well.” She gave some side eye to Eris. “From both of us,” she added.

Delyth rushed out with a final bow.

Y/N joined Eris at the cart of food. Now that she was smelling and seeing it, her stomach growled and she finally acknowledged how hungry she was.

“The servants seem less scared of you these days,” Y/N pointed out with amusement as she lifted lids off various sides.

“That is less scared?” Eris cocked a brow.

Y/N sighed and turned to face him fully. “Give it time, Eris. You have only been High Lord of Autumn for – how long? – 4 months?”

He just hummed.

She continued. “You have been alive for centuries. Surely you do not expect to undo your previous reputation in mere days?”

Eris was already filling a plate with a little bit of everything they had been given. “Well, certainly I should take notes from you. My Court adores you.” He smirked. “If the apple tarts were not obvious enough.”

He handed it to her, making Y/N realize he had been making a plate for her before himself.

She took it carefully, trying to ignore the sweet gesture.

“Eat,” he urged, the High Lord in him clearly heard.

“Yes, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m eating. I’m eating.”

Y/N moved to sit on the floor next to the giant fireplace in his bedchambers. Before she had even fully sat down, Eris had started a fire with a simple nod of his head. Then giant floor cushions – blood red, velvet, and tufted – appeared next to her.

“I like sitting on the floor,” she muttered to herself, but fully knowing he could hear.

“Well, I do not,” Eris retorted as he joined her on his own cushion.

“Ah, right. We were just talking about how you are centuries old. It probably isn’t comfortably for your poor back…”

Eris paused the stabbing of his food with his fork at such a comment.

But when he looked up, Y/N was trying not to laugh.

“What!?” She finally giggled. “I find it hard to believe anyone ever had the courage to tease you. Perhaps it will build character!”

“No one teased me because if they did… they were fried to ash and soot.”

“By Beron?” She mocked.

“By me.”

But his glare could no longer be ignored.

“Fine. I will stop,” Y/N surrendered.

They continued their meal with comfortable conversation. Mostly of Eris asking about her day, and the days before when he could not see her. He asked her about the mortals, how they were faring, if the children needed anything.

In return, Eris told her about all the meetings with his council. He even admitted how much he struggled with not lashing out at those who seemed resolute on disagreeing with his every decision and philosophy.

“You may rid yourself of them, you know…” Y/N hummed.

She now lounged on her side across the floor cushion, head propped up on her elbow as she gazed up at his straight posture.

Y/N added, “There is a middle ground between complete submission and murdering any who disagree with you.”

“And what is that, little witch?” He asked, almost bitingly.

“You could dismiss them from their position, remove them from the High Lord’s council.”

“And let them live?” Eris challenged with disgust in his tone. “So they could leave my court, and join the rebellion and challenge me?”

Y/N sat up and moved closer, matching his sitting position. “Yes, let them live! So your people see that you are not a tyrant, but a just High Lord with honor and benevolence. And you leave an opening for others to gain standing with you, showcasing their honor, taking any opportunity to help you and help their court. True acts of service – not titles won through deceit and greed.”

Eris stared at her in awe.

His witch spoke like a vizier, whispering council into a mortal king’s ear. But she was not doing it for any benefit other than his own. She only wished to help him.

“I see your time in our libraries has taught you a thing or two,” he whispered to her.

Y/N's face warmed and she looked away from his studying gaze. “I only wished to understand the ways of the fae and of Autumn Court.”

“Yes, and you learned much more than that, too.”

Eris reached out then, his fingers brushing gently against her cheek, lifting her chin so she was forced to look at him. His touch was like a spark— familiar and foreign still.

Without another word, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers, a kiss that was both a promise and a plea. Their politics and council seemed to vanish in that moment—the weight of their bond, the burden of their destinies, all faded into the background, until there was nothing left but the beat of their hearts and the shared warmth of their embrace.

This was not their first kiss, but it was the most daring of them all.

There was a new energy, one that had been tapping at her shoulder for too long. And she feared she could no longer ignore it.

When they pulled apart, Y/N’s breath was shaky, her pulse racing.

Eris’ hand slid down her spine, pulling her flush against him. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and contour.

He pulled away to look at her face, reading every tiny expression to see if she wanted him to stop. Because he knew his mate to be bashful, and she would not stop him until she was too scared.

Thus, he was surprised to see such hunger and desire in her y/e/c eyes.

Eris pulled up the skirt of her velvet dress, then undid the delicate buttons at the back of the dress, letting it fall from her torso to reveal a sheer lace body suit as her lingerie.

His fingers traced the lace, teasing her skin through the farbic, until Y/N arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"You are beautiful," he murmured against her mouth, his breath hot on her skin. “I fathom any males who have had the pleasure of seeing you this way were undeserving.”

Y/N's hands were not idle either. She ran her fingers through his thick, flame hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. Her nails scraped lightly down his back, eliciting a shudder from him. Eris groaned, his desire for her growing with every touch.

Eris lowered his head, his lips moving down her neck and across her chest.

Y/N arched her back, her hands gripping his shoulders, as waves of pleasure rippled through her.

"Eris," she gasped, her voice hoarse with desire.

She was not a stranger to sex. But it had left her so disappointed in the past, that her body had declared a complete disinterest in exploring it further with men, moving forward in life with an utter lack of desire.

But Y/N did not know that Eris had put those pieces together, from Feyre’s subtle warning to him after Y/N had shared such a depressing sexual past to her friends.

It brought him a strange rage that men had disappointed her so thoroughly. But that was quickly replaced with the primal urge to show her what she could have from him.

So, Eris obliged, lavishing attention on his mate, his hands roaming lower, caressing the curve of her waist and the swell of her hips.

Y/N's breath quickened as his fingers dipped underneath the skirt of her dress, tracing the lace edge of her body suit.

Pride swelled through Eris as his hand moved to instantly find her arousal.

“Let me, Y/N. Please. I beg you," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed up at him, her expression a mix of desire – and, surprisingly, trust.

Eris smiled, a predatory grin, and gently pushed her back onto the cushion, following her down, his body covering hers. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, his hands roaming freely over her body, exploring every inch of her soft skin.

His fingers traced the line of her thigh, pushing her skirt higher and out of the way, fully revealing the delicate lace that covered her core.

Y/N's breath hitched as his fingers brushed against her over the fabric, and she arched her hips, seeking more contact.

He finally took pity on her and moved the fabric to the side.

Eris's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her exposed sex.

With that, he dipped his middle finger into her, slowly, teasingly, remembering that she was a mortal – and one has lived without being deservedly worshipped by a male.

Y/N gasped, her body jerking at the sudden intrusion. The sensation of his finger sliding into her was exquisite.

His finger moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, gently stretching her, filling her with a pleasurable ache. He added a second finger, causing Y/N to moan softly, her head tossing back. And she clenched around his fingers, her body welcoming the touch in a way it never had before. It was a reminder than fae males were bigger than men in every way – including their fingers.

“Breathe, Y/N.” Eris encouraged with equal parts dominance and tenderness. “I can feel you holding back. Relax, my little witch.”

His voice alone sent a tremor through her body and it listened to his command as if he were her master.

He began to move his hand in a steady, rhythmic motion, his fingers curling and inside her, hitting a spot within her that she had never felt before.

Y/N gasped as pleasure coursed through her body.

She could feel her orgasm building, a feeling she had never experienced when sharing a bed with the few males in her past. Delicious tension coiled in her core.

"Eris..." she could barely whisper, pleading with him against her own control.

Eris grinned, knowing he had her exactly where he wanted her. He increased the pace, his fingers working her with relentless precision.

But he was not another fumbling, mortal male. He was high fae, a powerful high lord – with Autumn fire in his blood. And he could give her more than just his fingers.

His magic flickered out of him, controlled and careful. He could not give her too much or she might never recover. She may be a witch, but she had a fragile mortal body still.

An invisible flame under his control spread across her skin, like a hundred warm hands were touching her, overwhelming her senses. Her skin was hot from the magic and beads of sweat started to form.

She couldn’t handle it any longer.

Y/N’s hips bucked off the floor, her hands trying to grip onto something as she surrendered to the sensations.

But Eris took both of her hands in one and locked them above her head, keeping her his prey.

“Let go, Y/N.“ Eris encouraged, his thumb finding her clit and circling it gently.

His words were like magic too, and Y/N’s body exploded in pleasure.

She cried out, her back still arching as wave after wave of orgasmic bliss. Every window flew open by a gust raging into the room. Not the messengers, but her own witchcraft. As if it was her body’s subconscious response, desperate for relief from the stimulation.

“Good girl,” Eris whispered as his magic wouldn’t let her calm down, overstimulating her. His fingers continued their assault, pushing her orgasm further, drawing out every last bit of the pleasure she deserved.

As the tremors subsided, Y/N lay panting with closed eyes, her hair fanned out on the wood floor like a halo. Her body spent, recovering from something she’d never felt before.

But Eris comforted her, reminding her of his presence by caressing her skin and kissing up her torso and focusing on her neck.

He kept her arms above her head, worried she would try to use them to hide herself from him.

After a few minutes, Y/N opened her eyes to find Eris still nuzzling her neck.

As if sensing her clarity coming back, Eris finally released her and pulled back to give her a stern look. “You are not allowed to be embarrassed—understand?”

The dominance in his voice forced a quick nod from her.

Eris had always had an imposing energy as High Lord. But it had never been directed at Y/N like this, and it was making her body tremble.

Y/N had never been given a chance to openly express her sexuality, and the intensity of her reaction caught her off guard.

In his presence, she was able to let go and give him control over her body and mind.

But Y/N’s whole body only grew warmer – and not by the hand of Eris’ sex magic. Was that even what it had been? Her mind was fuzzy.

Before Eris could say another word, she scrambled onto her feet. At least she had the decency of lingerie still being on her body. But she abandoned the dress Eris had so easily removed, the dozens of buttons would now betray her in this moment.

Instead, she lunged for the Eris’ cloak that he had draped over her in the forest earlier and wrapped it around her shoulders, hiding her undergarments.

Her heart was pounding, and she felt a rush of emotions—pleasure, confusion, and a strange sense of vulnerability.

"I... I shouldn’t… we can’t,” she stammered, eyes darting around the room at everything, but him.

Before Eris could respond, she rushed out of his bedchambers.

He knew her avoidance would win in the end. But Eris was a patient male. One does not live for centuries, planning their tyrant father’s usurping without great persistence and humility.

So he would let her hide…for now.

Eris had been tiptoeing around Y/N, submitting to her fear and need of distance. He let Y/N control their relationship with her withholding and protective isolation.

But he now understood: Y/N needed to be chased, needed to be exposed to her greatest fears just so he could show her he would not let her get hurt.

But now she had proven to him that she could handle his passion, his desire. He just had to take it, with the unbroken promise of keeping her safe through it.

Eris fell back to the floor and stared up at the high ceilings of his bedchamber.

Y/N had left him alone with the lingering scent of her passion. It filled his bedchambers and it wouldn't dampen for days.

Eris smiled, knowing what he had to do now.

Y/N needed to be conquered.

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

I know people never read these author notes. But I have two things:

a) if you've been following my work for awhile, you know that this is the first sex scene I have ever written. I usually just skip sex scenes and heavily imply them with a fade-to-black strategy. So, if you liked it: please, please, please let me know. I really don't know if I pulled it off.

b) thank you so much for being patient with me. work has cause me to have multiple mental breakdowns, panic attacks so bad that I have to call out sick from work. I have been busy applying to jobs, while also dealing with the high demands of my current job. so i simply have not had the mental motivation to produce art, instead only finding the energy to consume it.

if you liked this chapter, please write a book report for me. it will bring me joy. 🥹🧡

#gust & flame #gust and flame #eris vanserra #eris #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris smut #eris vanserra smut #autumn court #a court of thorns and roses #acotar

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midnight-in-town · 1 month ago

Text

Classical language and paranormal powers : Anya Forger and Arnold Crowley

Crack theory that I haven't seen anywhere, but I can't get it out of my head since ch95, so here goes.

We've had enough clues across the story so far to understand that there is a link between Anya's past and telepathic powers and her mastering classical language (which is not spoken anymore nowadays, according to Twilight), which recently earned her a stella :

While the nature of the link is still unclear, I can't help but question if Sensei hid other clues about this topic.

More specifically, Anya scored second, a big victory for her, but we eventually even met the kid who scored slightly better than she did in ch 95:

Moreover, he seemed particularly interested in Anya and wanted to meet her, before the dance party gave him the chance to.

Of course, it can be purely mundane kid behavior or just a comical way to annoy Damian, but still, I couldn't help but notice that mainly he, like Anya, has weirdly shaped pointed hair.

Might I even add, he has 3 horns/antennas, while Anya only has 2 (is it why he scored better ?). That's one similarity to two kids scoring well in classical language. Could be coincidental, I hear you.

Even more recently though, Anya and Yor encountered Melinda at a festival, when trying to get a fortune telling for Anya. Melinda shyly explained to Yor that it's a hobby of hers and that she believes in destiny and paranormal activities & powers, like telepathy :

However, Melinda is not super confident in her reading abilities, which is why she's not charging any money for it. But did you notice the name of another fortune teller who seems very accurate and popular, in ch107 ?

That's right : Magical * Crowley

Of course, at this point we don't know at all whether or not Arnold from ch95 is related to this fortune teller. However, I kinda doubt Sensei would mistakenly give the same name to the weird boy who beat Anya in classical language and to a popular fortune teller, when someone like Melinda, of all people, hardcores believes paranormal forces and powers are real.

Melinda who, by the way, is extremely scared of her husband who may have undergone surgery to get telepathic powers at some point.

Last but not least, we also know that fortune telling is likely to be a real thing in this universe, meaning Magical * Crowley's could have actual powers, considering Anya's family already owns a dog, Bond, who can see the future.

TL;DR Arnold Crowley from ch95 may be a kid with a strange power, like Anya is.

What this has to do with them being good at classical language, which is not used anymore nowadays, I don't know**, but I'd bet a few pennies it's going to be plot relevant.

**EDIT : To specify on what I currently imagine, since Anya's powers disappear during the new moon, maybe her powers depend on some kind of emitting/transmitting wavelengths (received by her hair horns/antennas), that could be coded with classical language (since it's not spoken anymore) ? It is a spy manga after all. x)

And if I were Endo-sensei, I'd take it a step further and reveal that she was actually hearing/reading all along people's thoughts in classical language, because that's how her powers were coded. She just doesn't realize it, because she's 4 years old, which is why most of her mistakes during classical language tests were spelling ones.

We shall see later. :) Thanks for reading and happy new year 2025 !

#spy x family #anya forger #arnold crowley #melinda desmond #donovan desmond #yor forger #sxf108 #sxf107 #sxf95 #sxf theory #my analysis

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harrywavycurly · 2 months ago

Note

Sarah I just really would love some Harry fluff of any kind I’m not picky I’m just needy😩

Hiii babes!!! Ask and you shall receive! It’s holiday themed fluff if that’s okay? This is honestly just the first thing that popped into my mind so I hope you like this short little blurb!💖

Summary: You and Harry have some last minute gifts to wrap✨

“Did you wrap this gift in the dark?” Harry lets out a huff as he looks up from his current position on the floor of the master bedroom near his side of the bed where he’s surrounded by things still needing to be wrapped as well as a small pile of things he’s done wrapping or placing in gift bags. When he looks up he finds you sitting on the floor near your side of the bed holding something he wrapped last night in a hurry, needing to get it done before you got home. “Why is there so much tape? And is that a-”

“I beg your pardon? That’s a perfect wrapping job considering who the gift is for.” He says in his own defense making you raise a brow as you look at the tag on the poorly wrapped box. He nervously chews on his bottom lip as he waits for your reaction once he sees your eyes scan the name on the tag.

“Harry we said no more gifts for her.” You say with a sigh as you look at the pile of wrapped presents that are along the wall your bedroom door is on. “She’s going to need a second playroom for all this stuff.” Harry follows your gaze and smiles at the thought of your little girl’s face as she opens all her gifts.

“That’s the last thing.” He promises with a smile making you roll your eyes because you heard him say the same thing just last week and yet here you are with another gift in your hands for the two year old little girl who’s currently asleep down the hall. “Besides half of those are clothes so they’ll just go in her closet.” He justifies with a shrug before reaching over to the pile of unwrapped gifts so he can grab one, gently placing it on top of the red and white polka dotted wrapping paper he’s using at the moment.

“Are you wrapping your own gift?” You ask as you slide Harry’s sadly wrapped box towards the wall so it can join the others that are ready to be placed under the tree in the living room.

“My own-oh is this for me?” He holds up the mug that’s in the middle of his wrapping paper and turns it around so he can read what it says but before he can actually get a good look he feels something hit his forehead and land in his lap. “Did you just throw a bow at me?”

“You were about to look at your gift what else was I supposed to do from all the way over here?” Harry lets out a laugh as he picks the bow up and tosses it back over to your side of the room making you giggle when he misses you completely and it lands a good foot away from you. “Be a good husband and bring it to me please? So I can wrap it for you.” You poke out your bottom lip in a playful pout as you look at him from across the room.

Harry looks at you as you wiggle around on the floor with your pillow so you can put it behind your back once you get close enough to the footboard of the bed so you can lean against it. You let out a deep sigh of relief and he can’t help the grin that takes over when he sees you place a hand on your fully formed bump, having hit the “due any day” mark a few days ago he knows getting comfortable is often times a struggle. He gets up after grabbing the mug, making sure he doesn’t look at what it says and after a few careful steps he’s standing next to you.

“The pout wasn’t necessary love.” He teases as you reach up and grab the mug from his hands and place it in the gift bag that’s between your spread legs. You smile when you look up and see he’s still looking down at you, he places a hand on top of the bed so he can lean down and place a quick kiss to your lips. “I love you.” He mumbles against your lips before giving them one last peck.

“I love you too.” He smiles as he stands up and turns to go back to his designated wrapping spot. “But if you get her one more gift I’m telling your mom how you really felt about her fruitcake.” You threaten making Harry chuckle as he shakes his head at your choice of a threat.

“Fine fine no more gifts for her.” You narrow your eyes as he sits down and grabs a pack of customized golf balls to wrap for Niall. He can feel your eyes on him as the corners of his mouth twitch as he fights off a smirk. “But I may have a few more things for him in this pile.” He explains as he tosses a quick look over his shoulder to the pile of gifts he has left in need of wrapping, his eyes landing on a little pair of sneakers he got that might or might not match a pair he has in his own closet.

“You think he’ll show up in time for Christmas? Or will he wait for New Year’s Eve?” You ask as you rub your stomach with one hand and place some tissue paper into the bag with Harry’s mug in it, smiling when you remember that it says “Daddy is a state of mind” in bright pink font, having been obsessed with that quote ever since you heard Pedro Pascal say it during an interview and figuring it fit Harry’s personality perfectly.

“Oh he’s going to make quite the entrance so I’m betting on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.” He answers as he begins to wrap Niall’s gift with some green and white paper.

“He’s going to make an entrance huh? Wonder who he gets that from.” You joke making Harry shoot you a playful glare before both of you go back to wrapping gifts, trying to finish most of it so the next few days you can relax and enjoy the holiday festivities as well as the final days of the Styles household being a little family of three before your son decides to make his arrival.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles x wife!reader #harry styles request #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x pregnant!reader #harry styles #my little lanky baby #dadrry #dad!harry #husband!harry

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arc-misadventures · 3 months ago

Note

NNN Bumbleby: Ok so to explain better. Remember the NNN you did for Cinder where both Cinder and Pyrrha were seducing Jaune? I was asking for something like that. Jaune,Blake, and Yang would all be dating each other. Blake and Yang would be trying to get Jaune to fail NNN.

Now it makes sense.

Okay, let's write this out.

///

NNN: BMBL

Yang: ...

Blake: ...

Yang: So... you failed?

Blake: Yeah... Did manage to succeed?

Yang: No...

Blake: So, I guess we need to come up with a different plan...

Yang: Agreed. Tell me what you did, that way we won't repeat the failure.

Blake: Only if you do the same.

Yang: Okay. You first.

Blake: I tried playing, 'Master's pet.' I dressed in a furry bikini, had a collar on my neck, and waited for, Master to claim his pet!

Yang: Ohh! That sounds hot!

Blake: It was hot! But, Jaune opened the door, to see my sexy splendor, just as fast he slammed the door on me...

Yang: Ouch...

Blake: What about you?

Yang: Oiled up bikini.

Blake: Ohhh~?! That sounds hot!

Yang: I flaunted off my glistening abbs towards him, showing off my oiled body in all it's glory~! Then I slipped on the oil, and fell flat on my face...

Blake: Ohh?! THat must have killed the buzz.

Yang: Yeah, 'Sexy times' mood was utterly ruined when, Jaune had grab a napkin when my nose started bleeding...

Blake: Yeah, that's a total buzz kill.

Yang: What else did you try?

Blake: Well it wasn't intentional... but, I accidently got tangled up in a net.

Yang: A net? How did you do that?

Blake: Oh, Jaune, and I were putting away some gym supplies, when a net fell down on me. I was in the perfect position to live out one of my fantasies, and all, Jaune had to do is pull down his pants, and take me!

Yang: And!?

Blake: And, Jaune started untangling me from the net...

Yang: Oh...

Blake: Yeah, but in retrospect, considering how difficult, and long it took, Jaune to get me out of my netting it was probably for the best...

Yang: Ha!

Blake: Yeah, I'll just ask, Jaune to tie me to the bed, and take me instead.

Yang: Nice! I tried rubbing against in class once!

Blake: Oh! Saucy~! How did that go?

Yang: Detention.

Blake: Oh...

Yang: Yeah... Ms. Goodwitch didn't take too kindly to me grinding on my boyfriend during her class...

Blake: Yeah, I can see that...

Yang: Worst part is I almost had him. I whispered one thing in his ear, and he almost snapped!

Blake: What did you say

Yang: Big bro~!

Blake: Oh that's so...?! Oh? Oh! OH! I just came up with a great idea!

Yang: What's the idea?

Blake: Wouldn't you like to know... Step sister~!

Yang: ...

Yang: Ohhh~?

~~~

Jaune: Haa... Man dealing with, Nora's actions is exhausting... how are you two doing... GRK?!

Blake: Ahhh~!

Yang: Mhhh~!

Blake: Ahh~?! Step sister! You're hand?! Ohh~! It's...?!

Yang: Is exactly where you want it~!

Blake: Ahh~! Big sis...?! Oh~? H-H-Hi, Step brother~!

Jaune: S-Step brother...?!

Yang: Oh, hey, Big brother~!

Jaune: B-B-Big brother?!

Yang: I found our little sister playing with herself on your bed... I decide to punish her for being naughty~! Will you help me punish this naught kitty, big brother~!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: My, my, my... My little sisters are such naughty little girls~!

Jaune: Whatever shall I do~?

Blake: Punish us, step brother~!

Yang: With you're big hot rod~!

Jaune: That should do it~!

#rwby #jaune arc #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #nora valkyrie #glynda goodwitch #jaune x yang #yang x jaune #blake x jaune #jaune x blake #yang x blake #blake x yang #rwby dragonslayer #rwby knightshade #rwby bumbleby #rwby stungknight #rwby colourguard

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zapreportsblog · 1 year ago

Note

hi!! can you do volturi x secretary!reader (platonic) who's just TOO GOOD AT HER JOB. she spells carlisle correctly, she doesn't interrupt, and she's like really professional. ALSO YOU FOLLOWED ME BACK LIKE I WAS SO SURRPISRD THANK YOU HAVE A GOOD DAYYAYAYYA

❝she’s just too damn good❞

✭ pairing : volturi x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (Y/n) is the best damn secretary the volturi could ask for

✭ authors note : aww of course I’d follow you back :)

✭ twilight masterlist

The grand entrance hall of Volterra, Italy, echoed with the weight of centuries-old secrets and power. It was within these ancient stone walls that the Volturi, the ruling vampire coven, held their dominion. Aro, Caius, and Marcus, the three elder vampires who led the coven, sat upon their thrones, their crimson eyes filled with an ageless wisdom.

Their previous secretary had met an unfortunate end, her fate sealed by a single, costly mistake. Now, it was time to find a new secretary, one who could handle the delicate matters that crossed the Volturi's path.

(Y/n), a human with a reputation for competence and diligence, stood before the Volturi leaders. She pushed her glasses up on her face, the light catching the lenses and reflecting an intense determination in her gaze. She had no intention of failing in this prestigious role.

Aro, the most talkative of the trio, addressed her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I trust you won't follow in our previous secretary's footsteps. Her errors cost her dearly."

(Y/n) met Aro's gaze with unwavering confidence. "No need for the warning, sir. I take my work very seriously. I'm here to ensure that every detail is meticulously attended to."

Caius observed her with a critical eye, his expression stern. "You are aware that our affairs are highly confidential, and discretion is of the utmost importance?"

(Y/n) nodded, her resolve unshaken. "Absolutely, sir. My lips are sealed, and I understand the consequences of breaching that trust."

Marcus, the most reserved of the three, merely regarded her with a measured gaze. "We shall see if your actions align with your words."

(Y/n) straightened her posture, ready to take on her new responsibilities. "You won't be disappointed, gentlemen."

With that, she accepted the role of secretary for the Volturi, stepping into a world of secrecy, power, and ancient vampires. As she walked away, she knew that she had taken on a role unlike any other, one that demanded her utmost dedication and discretion. The reflection of her determination in those glasses was a symbol of the resolve she brought to her new position, one that she intended to uphold at all costs.

(Y/n) settled into her new role as the secretary for the Volturi with a fierce dedication. Her efficiency and attention to detail quickly became apparent to the coven's leaders. Aro, always one to appreciate those who could fulfill his demands promptly, decided to put her to the test.

One afternoon, he strolled into her office, his graceful presence demanding attention. (Y/n) looked up from her desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard of her computer as she organized files and scheduled appointments.

"Ah, (Y/n)," Aro greeted her with his customary smile. "I have a task for you."

(Y/n) nodded, ready to take on any request from her employer. "Of course, master Aro. What do you need?"

Aro explained, "I need you to post an aid about a tour for fifty people for tomorrows feeding, a rather impromptu event. I would like you to schedule it for me.”

(Y/n) didn't miss a beat. She continued typing on her computer, her eyes darting across the screen as she worked her magic with scheduling software. "Consider it done, master Aro."

Aro was taken aback by her speed and efficiency. He had expected this task to take some time, but within mere minutes, (Y/n) turned her screen toward him, displaying a perfectly organized tour for fifty attendees, complete with dates, times, and an itinerary.

His crimson eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "You work remarkably fast, (Y/n)."

(Y/n) looked up with a confident smile. "I pride myself on being efficient, master aro. Is there anything else you need?"

Aro chuckled, clearly impressed. "Not at the moment, my dear. Carry on with your excellent work."

As he left her office, (Y/n) couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She had proven her worth to the Volturi leader, and her efficiency would undoubtedly serve her well in this world of secrecy and power.

In the serene garden of the Volturi castle, Marcus often found solace among the flowers that his late mate had once lovingly tended to. He wandered the garden, lost in his own thoughts, the weight of his immortal life bearing down on him.

One day, as he strolled along the carefully manicured paths, Marcus noticed something extraordinary. The flowers that had once withered away had begun to regrow, vibrant and beautiful as if brought back to life by some unseen force. He couldn't help but be struck by the sight, the memories of his mate's love for these flowers flooding his mind.

Marcus approached a lower guard who was on duty nearby, his curiosity piqued. "Who has been taking care of the garden? These flowers, they are flourishing once more."

The lower guard, a vampire who had served the Volturi for centuries, nodded respectfully to Marcus. "It is the human, my lord."

"The human?" Marcus asked, intrigued. "What is their name?"

The guard, who knew the human by the name the Volturi called her, replied, "The secretary (Y/n), my lord."

Marcus considered this revelation, the name sparking a distant memory. He had heard the name (Y/n) mentioned in passing, but he had paid little attention. Now, it seemed this human was not only tending to the garden but also reviving the memories of his lost mate.

With a nod of appreciation, Marcus continued to admire the blooming flowers, a silent acknowledgment of the human named (Y/n) for her care and dedication. In the garden, among the resurrected blooms, he felt a connection to his past and a glimmer of hope for the future, all thanks to the efforts of this mysterious human.

In the dimly lit halls of the Volturi castle, Caius, one of the coven's leaders, was growing increasingly frustrated. He had been searching for his favorite cloak, a luxurious garment of deep crimson, for what felt like an eternity. His irritation had escalated to the point where his voice echoed through the corridors as he yelled at everyone in his path.

"Where is it? Who has taken my cloak?" he bellowed, his tone venomous.

Vampires scurried to avoid his wrath, their wide-eyed expressions betraying their fear of their temperamental leader.

In the midst of the chaos, a soft and calm voice cut through the tension. "(Y/n)," Caius snapped, his crimson eyes narrowing as he turned to face the human secretary, "(Y/n), have you seen my cloak? I cannot find it anywhere."

(Y/n) stepped forward, holding Caius's missing cloak draped carefully over her arm. Her voice was composed, unruffled by his outburst. "Master Caius, you left this in your office. I've noticed it had specks of dried blood on it, so I've had it dried clean."

Caius was momentarily taken aback, his anger dissipating as he processed her words. He couldn't believe it. The usually distant and indifferent human secretary had not only found his cloak but had taken it upon herself to ensure it was cleaned.

"(Y/n)," Caius said, his voice softer now, "you did this for me?"

(Y/n) nodded, her gaze steady as she met his crimson eyes. "Of course, Master Caius. It's my duty to assist in any way I can."

Caius, still in disbelief, reached out to take the cloak from her arm. His fingers brushed against hers, and he felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation stir within him. He couldn't deny that her thoughtfulness had left a mark on him, one that he couldn't easily dismiss.

As (Y/n) excused herself and left the hallway, Caius watched her retreating figure with a newfound appreciation. It was a small gesture, but one that had touched him deeply, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to this human secretary than met the eye.

The grand trial room within the Volturi castle was filled with a weighty silence as the three kings, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, gathered for a discussion. The subject of their conversation was none other than their human secretary, (Y/n).

"She's good at her job, almost too damn good," Aro commented, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "I can't seem to find a simple mistake in her work."

Caius nodded in agreement. "She's quick, and her work is effective. It seems we'll be keeping her around long-term."

Marcus, who often remained silent, offered his approval with a subtle nod.

The kings reached a unanimous decision. They would offer (Y/n) a gift, one that would bind her to the Volturi for eternity. They sent their most trusted enforcers, the twins Alec and Jane, to fetch her.

Alec and Jane, swift and efficient as always, found (Y/n) in her office. They approached her with the precision of a well-practiced routine.

"(Y/n)," Alec began, his tone even, "the masters request your presence in the trial room."

(Y/n) blinked in surprise but complied, following the twins to the room where the three kings awaited.

Once inside, (Y/n) stood before the Volturi leaders, her heart pounding with anticipation. Aro spoke first, his voice dripping with charm.

"(Y/n), in the short months you have been with us, your dedication and efficiency have impressed us greatly," Aro said, his crimson eyes locked onto hers. "We value your contributions, and we would like to offer you a gift."

(Y/n) couldn't hide her surprise. "A gift, masters?"

Caius stepped forward, his gaze unwavering. "We offer you immortality, (Y/n). A chance to join our coven as one of us."

The offer hung in the air, a life-altering decision that (Y/n) had never expected. She considered her options carefully, her thoughts racing. The weight of eternity was a heavy burden to bear, but the allure of becoming part of the Volturi coven was undeniable.

After a moment of reflection, (Y/n) finally spoke. "I'm not sure what to say, masters, but thank you for the offer."

With her acceptance, the kings nodded in approval. The twins, Alec and Jane, moved closer, their hands lightly touching her body. “Alec -“ aro calls out and in second Alec has (y/n) wrapped in his dark smoke, her senses numbing within seconds. “Don’t worry dear, it’ll be over in no time.”

Over the course of three days, (Y/n) underwent the agonizing process of the vampire transformation. She endured the fire of change, sometimes which were numbed by Alec per the kings request and now she was emerging from the ordeal as a newborn vampire, her senses heightened and her existence forever entwined with the Volturi.

As her eyes fluttered open in her new immortal life, (Y/n) realized that she had become a permanent part of the Volturi coven, her loyalty and dedication recognized in the most profound way possible.

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frostdayz · 5 months ago

Text

Special day in Asgard

Loki x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: After many days of not really having loki to yourself he plans a day of only you two.

warnings: nothing unless you hate fluff!

AN: Sweet and whipped Loki oh how I love you!!!!!! Hope you all enjoy, I loved writing this :)

my stories never really describe the readers gender so unless stated otherwise all my stories are gn!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I stirred, blinking awake to the gentle warmth that kissed my skin. I could feel the cool sheets beside me and rolled over to find Loki, already awake, his piercing emerald eyes studying me with a soft, affectionate gaze.

“Good morning, my love,” he greeted, his voice smooth and soothing, like a quiet stream in the early morning light. His dark hair spilled over the pillows, framing his face in elegant disarray.

“Good morning,” I mumbled, still drowsy as I burrowed deeper into the blankets. “You’ve been watching me again.”

He chuckled, his deep, rich laughter reverberating in the stillness of the room. “How could I resist? You look so peaceful when you sleep. It’s a rare moment when I get to see you so at ease.”

I smiled sleepily, letting my eyes drift shut again. But before I could slip back into slumber, Loki shifted, leaning over me to plant a soft kiss on my forehead. His cool lips contrasted with the warmth of my skin, sending a pleasant shiver down my spine.

“As much as I enjoy watching you sleep, I thought today we could do something different,” he murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear.

I opened one eye, peering at him suspiciously. “What kind of different?”

He grinned, mischief glinting in his eyes. “No tricks, I promise. Just a day for us. No royal duties, no interruptions—just you and me.”

That got my attention. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I looked at him. “Really? You’re not being summoned by Odin, or Thor isn’t planning another one of his adventures?”

Loki shook his head, his expression softening. “No, not today. Today, I’m all yours.”

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face as I reached out to cup his cheek. “I like the sound of that.”

Loki’s eyes sparkled as he leaned into my touch before pulling away and sliding out of bed with effortless grace. “Then let’s start the day right, shall we?” He offered me his hand, and I took it, allowing him to pull me to my feet.

We both got dressed, Loki in his usual dark green tunic that accentuated his lean figure, and I in a flowing Asgardian cloak he had gifted me not too long ago. As we left our chambers, Loki’s hand found mine again, his long fingers intertwining with mine as we made our way to the palace’s grand kitchen.

When we arrived, Loki waved away the palace staff with a gentle nod, insisting that today, we would be preparing our own meal. It was rare for royalty to step foot in the kitchen, but Loki relished the idea of doing something simple and domestic. I found it endearing—another glimpse of the man behind the mask of the trickster.

“What are we making?” I asked, eyeing the vast array of ingredients that lined the countertops.

Loki smirked as he waved his hand, and with a flick of his fingers, various ingredients floated toward us. “Something simple but delightful. How do you feel about pancakes?”

I raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping my lips. “Pancakes? That’s what you consider ‘delightful’?”

“Of course,” he replied with mock seriousness, his lips curving into a playful grin. “They are a delicacy in Midgard, are they not? And I’ve mastered the art of making them. You’ll see.” He joked.

Despite my skepticism, I watched as Loki set to work. True to his word, he moved with practiced ease, mixing flour, eggs, and milk with a fluid grace that only he could possess. I helped where I could, handing him ingredients and stirring the batter while sneaking glances at his concentrated expression.

Once the batter was ready, Loki heated the skillet with a flick of his wrist, and within moments, the rich aroma of cooking pancakes filled the kitchen. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over me as I watched him work. This moment, this simple act of cooking together, felt so natural and yet so extraordinary at the same time.

Soon, we had a stack of golden pancakes sitting between us, topped with fresh fruit and drizzled with syrup Loki had conjured up from who knows where. We sat at the table, eating leisurely, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“These are really good,” I admitted after taking a bite. “You weren’t lying.”

Loki smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “I told you. I’m full of surprises.”

After breakfast, we left the kitchen and wandered through the grand halls of the palace. The towering columns and intricately carved walls were familiar to us both, but as we walked hand in hand, it felt like we were seeing them in a new light. Loki regaled me with stories of Asgard’s history, tales I’d heard dozens of times before but never tired of. He spoke of grand battles, ancient legends, and even the occasional prank he had pulled on Thor during their younger years.

“And then, of course, Thor fell for it,” Loki said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he recounted one of his many pranks. “He was always so eager to believe whatever I told him.”

I laughed, picturing Thor’s confused expression. “I can’t believe he didn’t catch on after the first few times.”

Loki shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “That’s the beauty of it. Thor has a good heart, but he’s not always the most… observant.”

As we walked, our conversation flowed effortlessly, like a dance we had perfected over time. We told each other stories we had heard countless times before—tales of our lives, our adventures, and the moments that had brought us together. And yet, each retelling felt just as special as the first.

By the time the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the palace, we found ourselves in the palace gardens. The air was cool, and the scent of blooming flowers filled the atmosphere as we walked along the stone paths, hand in hand.

“Let’s have dinner out here,” Loki suggested, glancing up at the sky as the first stars began to twinkle overhead. “Under the stars.”

I nodded, loving the idea. “That sounds perfect.”

With another flick of his wrist, Loki conjured a table set for two in the middle of the garden. Candles flickered in the gentle breeze, casting a soft, romantic glow over the scene. Plates of food appeared before us—an array of Asgardian delicacies that looked almost too beautiful to eat.

We sat down, the night air cool against our skin as we dined under the stars. It was quiet, peaceful, with only the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of the palace in the background. Loki’s gaze never left mine as we ate, his eyes reflecting the light of the stars above us.

“You’ve made this day perfect,” I said softly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “Thank you.”

Loki’s expression softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. “You make every day worth living, my love. You are my greatest treasure.”

As the night wore on, we finished our meal and lingered in the garden, talking and laughing as the stars shone brightly above us. Eventually, the coolness of the night air drove us back inside, and we returned to our chambers, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

We undressed in comfortable silence, slipping into bed with the ease of two people who knew each other intimately. Loki pulled me into his arms, his cool skin a comforting contrast to the warmth of the blankets.

I nestled into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I don’t want this day to end,” I whispered, closing my eyes.

Loki pressed a soft kiss to the top of my head, his voice low and soothing as he replied, “It doesn’t have to. We can have as many days like this as we want.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I drifted off to sleep in Loki’s embrace. Today had been perfect—a day filled with love, laughter, and the quiet moments that made life so beautiful. And as I fell asleep, I knew that with Loki by my side, every day would be just as perfect as this one.

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goopysoup · 1 month ago

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..someone will ache for your soul..

In which you find your soulmate

featuring: farkas, vilkas, mercer frey, brynjolf, cicero, ancano, serana

[all are gender neutral, but there is a mention of being called ‘pretty’] [this took me almost three hours 💀 I don’t like most of them:(]

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farkas

He could smell them from a mile away.

That’s weird, let’s start again, shall we? Farkas swung his sword at the giant, fighting the urge to turn and run towards the sweet smell approaching. The beast inside him begged— pleaded— for him to go and engulf himself inside that smell, to cover himself in it, whatever it was.

That’s when he saw them. They aimed a bow, a steel arrow shooting through the air and into the giants eye, making it roar out before Aela ultimately got the last hit and killed the giant on the farm. Farkas couldn’t keep his eyes off them, the smell was coming from them. He watched as Aela spoke to them, not even registering what she was saying as he watched this person— the most perfect thing he’d ever seen.

Later, he’d seen them at Jorrvaskr, watching them enter and sneak downstairs. Were they joining?

“Farkas!” He’d heard Skjor’s voice shout from Aela’s room, “did you call me?” He asks as he smells that sweet smell again, his eyes locking on theirs. He barely heard what Aela was saying to him, “uh— new blood? Oh, hello. I’m Farkas. Come, follow me.”

He’d spoken to Kodlak later that night, asking him what in oblivion that sweet smell coming from them was and why was it just coming from them?

Kodlak laughs, forgetting that Farkas could be a bit dense at times, “she’s your mate,” he says as he pats him on the back a little harshly, “your soulmate, in other words.”

His soulmate..

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vilkas

He’d had their stupid name imprinted on his wrist since he was just a pup, a name he’d never heard of in all his years. Vilkas had begun to doubt that his soulmate even lived in Tamriel, in Skyrim, how unlucky was he? First, his lycanthropy, now his soulmate was nowhere to be seen? Nobody knew of someone with such a name?

It was a normal day as any, Vilkas sat at the small table with Kodlak, the two of them wondering if there truly would ever be a way for them to be rid of the beast. The beat haunted Kodlak, he knew that, the old man wanted to get into Sovngarde as any true nord would. But the beast prevented that, he would end up in Hircine’s land hunting for the rest of eternity.

It wasn’t long before an unfamiliar person walked into the halls of Jorrvaskr, heading down towards the two men. Their conversation was cut short, “I’d like to join the companions,” their voice was nice, I stark contrast to the armour and weapons they had on their body.

“Would you, now? Here, let me have a look at you? Hmm. Yes, perhaps. A certain strength of spirit.” Kodlak spoke, making Vilkas furrow his eyebrows.

“Master, you’re not truly considering accepting them?” He asks, making Kodlak give him a subtly pointed look, explaining they had empty beds for people with a fire in their hearts, “Apologies. But, perhaps this isn’t the time. I’ve never even heard of this outsider.”

The person sheepishly looks to Vilkas before they state their name. He freezes for a moment before he looks at them, Kodlak letting out a hearty laugh, making the person look at him with confusion.

“Vilkas, take them out to the yard and see what they can do.” Kodlak says before the person looks between Vilkas and Kodlak for a moment.

Oh gods..

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mercer frey

He’d known they were his soulmate from the moment he’d met them. Mercer saw the tattoo imprinted onto their forearm before they pulled their sleeve back down, he wasn’t stupid. But he’d never said anything, never gave them the hint he wanted them as much as they wanted him, not with the plans he had against the guild.

He’d let his guard down, it was so unlike him to bring any of his walls down but they made him. It was their fault, wasn’t it? He reaches over, his hand brushing against their cheek as they both stood outside in the backyard of his home, concealed under the stars, slone with no one watching them.

“I know,” they say suddenly, he furrows his eyebrows, “know what?” He asks in return, slipping his hand down to their neck, cradling it. He could choke them and end the misery of having him as their soulmate.

The grasp his wrist, carefully sliding down his sleeve to show the matching tattoo. His face hardens, pulling away as he covers the tattoo with his sleeve again, “it means nothing.”

He didn’t entirely mean those words, he yearned for them in secret, but he wouldn’t let his walls come down again. They didn’t need to get involved in his dirty work, he didn’t even want them in the guild anymore. It was to protect them.

“Leave, don’t come back, you understand?”

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brynjolf

The Dragonborn walks into Riften for the first time, almost laughing at how scared the guard outside had been when he realised they knew there was no tax. They make their was through the town, they liked the atmosphere even if they couldn’t see the colour of anything, it was better than dealing with the whole Alduin thing, anyways.

“Never done an honest day’s work in your life for all that coin you’re carrying, eh?” Brynjolf’s voice sounds out quietly as he approaches the famous Dragonborn. Who didn’t know of them, being clad in such armour and that weapon? They didn’t hide it.

“I’m sorry, what?” They ask, looking up at the man before a myriad of colours struck their vision within seconds, overwhelming them. Their head ached at the sight before they finally got used to it and looked around, not noticing the look that Brynjolf was giving them, admiring.

“I’m saying you’ve got the coin, love, but you didn’t earn a septim of it honestly, I can tell,” Brynjolf says once their eyes move back to him, crossing his arms with an expression that matches flirtation.

“How could you possibly know that?” The Dragonborn asks, almost bewildered as they finally get a good look of him, he was handsome, effortlessly charming. It was almost.. irritating? No, that’s not the word, “wait— my wealth is none of your business.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, love. Wealth is my business. Maybe you’d like a taste?” They’d gone through with the plan, stealing what’s-his-face’s ring and planting it on the other who’s-his-name successfully.

“Looks like I chose the right person for the job. And here you go.. your payment, as promised,” Brynjolf hands them the payment he’d promised his soulmate. He couldn’t wait to get them into the guild, to live a life with them— even if the life was illegal.

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cicero

Poor Cicero hadn’t even gotten the chance to speak to the pretty assassin that had walked into the sanctuary the day he’d brought his dear mother. Sweet, sweet Night Mother. He was such a good Keeper, wasn’t he? Why wouldn’t she just speak to him! No, he must be calm, that’s what sweet mother would want, isn’t it?

He spoke to the Night Mother now, they were alone, sweet solitude with the sweet Night Mother, “Have you.. have you spoken to anyone? No.. no, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and the saying!” He continued for a while, rambling to the mother.

Suddenly, he opens her coffin, gasping with confusing and repulse. Here, the pretty assassin was in the coffin with the Night Mother!

“What? What treachery! Defiler! Debased and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother’s coffin! Explain yourself! Speak, worm!”

The pretty assassin’s eyes seemed to widen at his words, he couldn’t tell if it was because of his words or tone, but he didn’t care, “The Night Mother spoke to me! She said, ‘I am the one.’” Now, it was Cicero’s turn to widen his eyes. Those words! The words! His words! The ones on his arm, the ones his soulmate would say! His Listener!

Good luck with this one, dear Listener..

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ancano

Ancano had noticed them as soon as they’d walked through those gates. Another new apprentice, how bothersome. Still, he continued his conversation with Mirabelle, quickly growing more irritated by the treatment she was giving him.

The new apprentice was guided away by Mirabelle, leaving Ancano to his thoughts. It was odd, he felt drawn to them, though he didn’t know nor care why. He had business to attend to.

The apprentice was in the Hall of Elements with Tolfdir, the two of them watching the mysterious orb they’d found in Saarthal. Clearly, this mage was more troublesome than Ancano had thought. The Psijic Order was asking for them. So, Ancano had inturruped the two of them, gaining a temper tantrum from Tolfdir. It was only when they were alone that the elf had noticed a familiar scratch on the side of the apprentice’s neck- one that matched the one that had appeared on his not but a few hours before.

Gods be damned, this apprentice was his soulmate, “I need you to come with me immediately. Let’s go.”

For now, he wouldn’t say anything about it, this apprentice seemed to be too oblivious. Or, at least, that’s what they pretended to be with that stupid little smile on their lips.

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serana

Being trapped in a tomb for gods know how long wasn’t something Serana entirely enjoyed. I mean, who would? It was dark and cold, dreary and cramped, far too undeserving of even a vampire such as her. She just had to remember, she was doing this for her father and he would come back for her, right?

She hadn’t woken up until she was almost fallen on the floor, but her quick instincts helped her to keep balance. She was free, her father had come back..—

Glancing up, she noticed a person standing there watching with a small amused smile, obviously the one that had rescued her from the dreary space she was just in, obviously not a vampire. Obviously not her father. She was sure her father would’ve come to get his daughter, so who was this? Though, as their eyes met, a shockwave shot through her, the feeling of being alive again was strong, flooding her veins and undead heart. This was her soulmate, she’d waiting thousands of years for this, but why was she so reluctant now? Reluctant to go with them- to trust them, but a part deep inside her knew this was right, she could get used to it. She could get used to them.

“Who are you?” Serana asks, finally having gained her composure. She looks this person up and down, analysing anything and everything she can see. It was clear they were a vampire hunter. Great.

“Who were you expecting?” They ask, almost amused as they watch the pretty vampire, crossing their arms in a similar way Serana was.

“Not my soulmate, that’s for sure.”

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obeymelucigirlie · 5 months ago

Text

Wounded Pride

Obey me! Shall we date?

Lucifer x f!mc (reader), Asmo, the brothers

Rating: mature for mentions of sex and bondage (part 2 will be NSFW: smut)

Summary: Lucifer is having some issues confronting his feelings after the Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup accident. You're sick of his disappearing act. Things come to a head…

Lucifer had been avoiding you for almost a week now. Nothing too evident, but you noticed you were never alone with him.

It had become a bit of an awkward, tacit dance. He’d give you tasks in his usual curt tone and walk away with nothing more. You’d see him at meals, in class, always surrounded by his brothers, classmates, Diavolo, Barbatos… Never alone. If you happened to cross him in a solitary hallway, he’d duck into the first room to avoid you. Always striding with purpose, as if he’d intended to do just that.

It drove you mad.

You suspected the problem. That ‘revelation’ under the influence of Levi’s Gold Hellfire Newt Syrup, that he loved you. The avatar of pride, lost in his intense feelings of lust, longing, calling you his master.

It had sent a shiver of intense desire down your spine. You had asked him to kiss you, and he had eagerly obliged, capturing your lips in heated kisses as he cradled your cheeks tenderly with his long fingers. Whispering against your lips just how much he’d missed you all those months apart. That he had thought of you every day, considered bringing you back. He had gazed into your eyes with such tenderness, intensity, it took your breath away.

The urge to deepen the hungry kisses as the demon held you close was almost overwhelming. Had Asmo not shown up, you’d have started pulling at his clothes there and then, begging him to do with you as he pleased…

All the brothers had admitted to strong feelings for you under the influence of that newt syrup, and, after an initial unease for Levi, Satan and Mammon, it had brought you closer. Asmo, Beel and Belphie on the other hand had been completely unabashed – ‘I meant every word I said, my lovely human’ Asmo had smiled flirtatiously when you asked him about it while painting each other’s nails in his bedroom one afternoon.

You certainly didn’t want for love and affection. The brothers brightened up your days in the Devildom. Each in their own loveable, crazy way. You smile as you recall that warm, peaceful feeling, falling asleep snuggled up in Beel and Belphie’s arms last night. Content, at peace.

But you missed Lucifer.

Serious, guarded Lucifer. Who always checked in on you, in a detached, non-intrusive way. Whose sharp eyes softened whenever you caught him glancing your way. That heated, wonderful night he accepted to make a pact with you, on the condition you would become his. He had kissed and caressed every inch of your body, made you writhe and moan and cry out his name over and over. And dammit, you wanted nothing more than to be his.

Your frustration comes to a head at dinner time.

“Lucifer, can you pass the salt please?”

The demon reaches over and places the salt shaker closer to your plate, not even glancing at you.

You feel your blood boil, your face heats up with anger, frustration. An ugly feeling, that of rejection. You spot Satan’s concerned gaze from the corner of your eye. Of course, the demon of wrath immediately senses your fury.

You smash your fist against the table and snap, “What, can’t even look at me?!”

Lucifer glances your way, finally. Coldly, emotionless.

“That’s quite the temper. If you’re feeling stressed about the exchange program, I’m certain we can find a solution. Come to my office after dinner and we’ll discuss.”

All the boys are staring at you now, their faces filled with concern.

“It… it’s alright, I’m sorry.”

You mumble, embarrassed. Hoping you’ll disappear into your chair.

The dinner ends in an odd, tense silence. As soon as Lucifer exits the dinning hall, the boys all round on you.

“What was that about? All that anger…”

Satan scrutinizes you, head inclined.

“Yeah, you’ve got guts snapping at Lucifer like that. Wouldn’t want ta be ya…” Mammon winces before throwing an arm around your shoulders, “but dontcha worry, The Mammon will protect you.”

You smile at his antics, though your stomach remains in anxious knots. You flounder a bit, attempting to explain your behaviour without giving too much away.

“I guess I got tired of the silent treatment… doesn’t justify the snapping though.”

You shrug, melting into Mammon’s embrace.

Satan is still studying you. He arches an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Would that silent treatment have anything to do with Levi’s special sauce last week?”

You look down, attempting to hide your creeping blush.

“It does!” Belphie exclaims excitedly, “I wonder what he told you that made him want to avoid you…”

All the brothers turn to you, questioning, eyes sparkling with mischief. Oh, they are enjoying this way too much! The enticing possibility of bringing their older brother down a peg or two.

“No way am I telling you. You’re all free to ask Lucifer if you’re that interested…”

You smirk as they all shrink back, eyes wide. No one would dare provoque Lucifer's wrath.

After another little while pestering you for details, then offering advice on how to deal with Lucifer, the brothers eventually give up and leave you to your impending punishment. All but Asmo, who grins at you slyly.

“So, buttercup, want to get our prideful brother to get over himself, hmm?”

"What do you mean?"

You look at him warily.

"Aw come on, don’t underestimate me, I'm the avatar of lust after all! Didn't think I'd notice the little something something going one between you and my dear brother? Or rather, the lack thereof at the moment... "

It's pointless denying it. Seems Asmo can read right through you at any rate.

"And you don't mind?"

Asmo giggles as if you've said the funniest thing.

"You cute little thing, sharing is caring. I hope brother dearest remembers that once his wounded pride's been healed!"

The avatar of lust winks as he trails a perfectly manicured finger down your arm suggestively.

"What you need to do, sweet thing, is to let him feel in control, like he has the power. Even when he doesn’t. Oooh! I know! Bondage'd be perfect! 💕"

“Bondage?!” You splutter, red-faced.

“Of course! I just know it’ll tickle his fancy. And you would look good in a little leather and restraints… as little leather as possible, teehee! 💕”

“You seem to be enjoying this all a little too much, Asmo…”

You can't help but chuckle at his shameless shenanigans.

"Back to the plan, I have the perfect outfit for you, and hm.. perhaps some accessories. Oh, its gonna be so much fun to dress you up doll! Do you think I can watch later?"

“No.”

You shake your head as Asmo fake-pouts.

He drags you up to his room to dress you up – rather, dress you down…

Continues in Part 2: Who's in control?

Reblogs & comments always appreciated!

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me fanfic #obey me mammon #obey me!#obey me nightbringer #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me satan #lucifer obey me #obey me lucifer smut #obey me! shall we date?#obey me fic

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octuscle · 7 months ago

Text

Blood is thicker than water

Peter hated being out in the fresh air. He had hated working on the farm ever since he had had to help his grandparents muck out the barn during the summer vacation. Yes, there weren't many other ways to earn money here in Lincoln now. But Nebraska wasn't Peter's future either. He was very sure of that. His future would be somewhere in New York, Singapore or London. Somewhere where the big money was. That's where he wanted to go. And that was where he belonged.

The job at the local bank wasn't that glamorous yet. But it was the starting point. Working at the cash desk, processing loan applications, it was all just a prelude to the glittering world of investment banking and hedge funds. He was hardworking, he was smart and charming. And he looked incredibly good in a suit.

When the board called him into his office, Peter saw his big moment had come. He adjusted his tie knot, took a deep breath, knocked and entered the office of his top boss. "Peter, good to see you, have a seat!" Mr. Harrison greeted him. "I hear wonderful things from you. I thought it was long overdue to meet you in person." Peter had to make an effort to stay cool. "As you probably know, the head of our corporate client department is being replaced. And even though you're actually a bit young for a position as head of department, I've been advised to consider you." Strike, thought Peter. "However, I have a, shall we say, delicate task… But if you master it successfully, I have no doubts that you are the right man for the job." A few minutes later, Peter wished he had never started at the bank.

The farm he was on his way to belonged to his uncle Cleatus. It had once been his grandparents' farm. His mother's parents' farm. Not the one where he had had the humiliating experience in the cowshed. This was his father's parents' farm. Damn it, he thought to himself. I must have manure running through my veins. I come from a clan of cows. "Anyone home?" he called out as he arrived in the yard between the stables and the house. The farm looked run-down. He hadn't been here for a long time. Suddenly he heard someone loading a shotgun. "I'm not expecting visitors!" Peter heard a harsh voice. Peter turned around and grinned as friendly as he could. "Hi Uncle Cleatus! It's me, Peter" "Peter, damn it, why are you in disguise? You look like an asshole from the bank!" Peter gulped. This was going to be fun. His uncle invited him into the large kitchen. It was dirty and untidy. Peter saw the pile of unopened post. He took a deep breath, declined the offered beer and began: "Uncle Cleatus, I'm actually not here by choice. And let me get straight to the point: I'm one of those assholes from the bank…"

"Junior!" roared Cleatus. "Say goodbye to your cousin!" Peter looked down the barrel of the shotgun. It hadn't gone as well as he had hoped when he told his uncle that the farm would have to be foreclosed. "Junior, now!". The floor shook as Junior approached the kitchen. It was beginning to stink. Slurry, sweat… And then his cousin Junior stood in front of him. A colossus! He took him in his arms and almost crushed him. "Throw him out, the asshole!" Peter lost the ground beneath his feet. Junior carried him out into the yard. And threw him into the mud. He lay in mud, cow shit and manure. Peter picked himself up and turned around. He wanted to protest. But one look in Junior's direction was enough. And he took off in the direction of the town.

Something was strange… Peter should actually feel humiliated and bad. But he was fine. The dirt on his ruined suit was drying. He was sweating in the warm air. He whistled a song. He was doing well. Of course, his uncle's farm hadn't been saved, but at least he hadn't put his own family out on the street. Shit, that wouldn't be worth a promotion on this planet either. He was beginning to develop pride in his grandparents' accomplishments working this land. They had made this country great. That made him very proud. And he was growing, without realizing it, in his suit.

He had parked his car outside on the country road so as not to get it dirty on the muddy dirt track. Peter now stripped out of his dirty suit on the road and sat in the car half naked so as not to soil the seats. The suit lay crusty, but neatly folded, in the trunk. It wasn't the end of the day yet. He had to report to the bank. He needed something to wear. And, given the way he smelled of cow shit and manure, a shower, too. Peter scratched his chin to think. His chin was scratchy. Very scratchy. And his upper arm looked kind of powerful. His cock in his boxer shorts was getting hard. Shit, what was he going to do now? Fortunately, he remembered the workwear store at the entrance to the town. He would find something to wear there. Maybe nothing from an Italian designer. But it would certainly be better than underwear.

The waitress in the store looked as if she was always serving men in their underwear. Peter mumbled that he needed something for the office. The waitress nodded understandingly and said that a guy who was built like him was certainly not the kind of person who would fit into an office. Peter didn't understand, but nodded. "Go into the changing room, I'll bring you something," said the sales assistant. Peter did as he was told. He looked in the mirror. Yes, he was a man who, in his underwear, you would probably expect to see as a construction worker or tree cutter. Arms like his didn't really fit into a shirt. "You look like you have an appointment at the bank," said the sales clerk. "You'll want to look respectable." Peter actually wanted to say that he worked at the bank. But somehow he had the feeling that wasn't true… "Yes, I have a farm to save," Peter replied. "Shit situation," replied the salesman. "Bankers are all vultures!"

When Peter arrived back at his small office, where he was a corporate account manager, he took a deep breath. Yes, he too was a vulture. But not as bad as the money-grabbing careerists up there. He was a passionate banker. He wanted to help people. His people. Before he called Mr. Harrison, he took a deep breath. His huge chest rose and fell. He reeked of sweat in his cheap polyester shirt. And after his visit to the farm, he probably had cow shit in the treads of his rough boots. But he just wasn't the type for penny loafers and Egyptian cotton shirts. He was a guy from Nebraska. Even if he did work in a bank.

The conversation with Mr. Harrison went as Peter had expected. You couldn't expect sympathy from a man like that. And Peter didn't want to work with a man like that again. He had saved hard. His dream had been to buy a house in the suburbs soon. But now there were more important things. One word followed the next in the phone call with Mr. Harrison. Until Peter plucked up his courage and told the vulture to stick his money up his ass. Peter would pay off his uncle's debts. And then turn his back on the bank. He threw his tie in the garbage can. And unbuttoned his shirt. Free! Free at last!

Junior was quite a challenge. His cousin was a few weeks older than him. And he hadn't been softened up by working in the city. But Pete had been living on the farm for a few weeks now and, thanks to his cooperation, there was a silver lining. The auction was off the table. Everything would be fine. And at the next wrestling match in the cowshed, Junior would lose and Pete would win. And the winner would get his cock sucked by the loser. Life on the farm was wonderful!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age progression #ai image #redneck tf

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asnowperson · 3 months ago

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A short Takemiya Keiko interview from 1998

My "All Things Takemiya" detective friend, Platypus, provided me with a two-page Takemiya Keiko interview scanned by @97tears from the now discontinued Hato yo! (鳩よ! - Oh, Pigeons!) magazine. It was a literary magazine published between 1983 and 2002—a publication you probably wouldn't look at if you were searching up on Takemiya, ig.

You can see the Japanese original taken from the 1998 April issue of the magazine, and my (poor) translation of it under the cut.

Takemiya Keiko Interview from issue #4 of Hato yo (1998)

An interview with a master mangaka herself!

I’ve always wanted to meet them! 1 – Takemiya Keiko

“I wanted to draw real love”

Takemiya Keiko. Born in Tokushima in 1950. Debuted with “Ringo no Tsumi” in 1968. Won the 25th Shogakukan Manga Award with “Kaze to Ki no Uta” and “Terra e.” Representative works include “Pharaoh no Haka” among others. “Tenma no Ketsuzoku” is currently being serialized in Asuka Magazine.

I read “Kaze to Ki no Uta” during elementary school. It has left a very deep impression on me. I remember that when Ms. Takemiya is mentioned. It was like I was looking at something I was not supposed to look, and I still remember the thrill I felt. Takemiya: Oh, is that so? (laughs)

Thank you so much for being with me today. Takemiya: And thank you for having me.

Shall we start with what prompted you to become a shoujo manga artist? Takemiya: Fundamentally, I was not suited for shoujo manga. I debuted in COM, and my dream was to draw manga that was neither shounen nor shoujo. But alas, the magazine in which I could draw my ideal manga was no more. My style didn’t have much “power” in it, so I inevitably had to choose a shoujo manga magazine. I think my art style was really uncommon at the time. But it was what it was, and I thought to myself, maybe capitalizing on that was the path I should take.

Your works have an extraordinary depth as far shoujo manga goes... They have a unique art style... Takemiya: It hasn’t always been like that. My shoujo manga technique was the fruit of what I have studied. It was not a result of my personal taste, nor my innate skills. Girls like that feathery, light touch. They like fine lines. But I didn’t have any of those. So, I figured drawing things girls would like a lot was my only choice. For instance, when I thought how they must like Europe at the end of the 19th century, I went on a trip as a result. I saw the real thing at its source, and did research on it.

Then was Kaze to Ki no Uta born because you thought girls would like it? Takemiya: That might have played into my choice of the time period the story’s set in. However, romance stories between a boy and a girl was the norm in shoujo manga at the time. You could only draw “And they lived happily ever after...” stories. And that happiness was only on the emotional level. It was normal to exclude all physical contact. But that is simply “affection.” I wanted to draw “real love.” I admit it was a little too sensational, but I thought doing it through same-sex love was the best way to go about it. That’s how I drew Kaze to Ki no Uta.

The sex scenes between men were quite a shock for me as a little child. That’s how I learned homosexuality existed. Takemiya: At the time, there was an official notice published by the Ministry of Education that stipulated that “You shall not draw a boy and a girl getting intimate!” However, if it was two boys, things were somehow fine... I thought I’d found a loophole! (laughs)

These days, there are more extreme books labeled as “yaoi.” What do you think about them? Takemiya: At the end of the day, doujinshi are doujinshi. They focus on personal enjoyment of a group. I consider myself a “craftsman,” and if I look at it from a craftsman's standpoint, I am not wholly satisfied with how they leave many things unexplained, or how they have no conclusion. At their level, I’d liked if those artists too felt more dissatisfied... If they aimed to be more conclusive. They have the talent to draw, so I’d love them to polish those skills. I’m sometimes told that it all started with “Kazeki,” and that I must take responsibility. And every time, I think to myself, “Oh... Re-really? Dit it?” (laughs) I wish someone drew something so awesome that it would blow Kazeki out of the water...

I’d love that too! You called yourself a “craftsman,” but what exactly makes you think so? Takemiya: I really love the word “craftsman.” I’m not interested in trying to reach an ideal of art that would not resonate with the public. I believe manga is something aimed at the general public. Otherwise, I would not consider it to have artistic value.

Spoken like a real pro... Which brings me to Terra e... I think that’s the most widely-accepted manga of yours by the general public, and it was published in a shounen magazine. Why is it the outlier to be published in a shounen magazine? Takemiya: I received an offer for it, but the truth is, I had always wanted to draw for a shounen magazine. That’s why accepted. But I needed to draw in the shoujo manga audience too, so I wanted the story to offer the best for both demographics. So I tried to have the concept to be that of shoujo manga, and the style to be that of shounen manga as much as possible.

Is it different to draw for a shounen manga magazine, and a shoujo manga magazine? Takemiya: You don’t have to hold back in shounen magazines. It fine to draw more hardcore stuff. But in shoujo magazines, that’s out of the question. There’s a trend that dictate that you should explain things in long-winded ways and spoil the reader, because girls like it when you reveal things to them through subterfuge, so don’t hit them directly with hard stuff.

But after that, you’ve never drawn for shounen magazines which allowed you to draw as you wished. Takemiya: Shounen magazines are mostly weekly. I cannot keep up with that. My art has fine details, so it takes me a lot of time to draw.

Then will you be solely drawing for shoujo magazines in the future? Takemiya: I can’t really say that I will. I’m currently working for a shoujo magazine with “Tenma no Ketsuzoku”, and with volume releases. I recently released an illustration book titled “Hermès no Michi.” I needed to base myself on documents and explain them in drawings. And they couldn’t be any kind of drawing, they needed to be interesting. Trying to come up with ways to do that was a very fun experience. So for starters, I’d like to undertake a work like that again. That kind of work I’m working on right now is a story about the fugitives of the Heike Clan in Tokushima.*

*T/N: She is referring to “Heian Joururi Monogatari.”

To finish our interview off, I’d like ask a question about the Year 24 Group (shoujo manga artists born around the 24th year of the Shouwa Era like Takemiya Keiko, Hagio Moto, and Ooshima Yumiko, who have influenced the shoujo manga world in the following years) which is still very prominent: Are you still conscious of it? Takemiya: Year 24 is a thing of the past in the modern manga scene. I think it’s irrelevant now. Manga is evolving, becoming something else after being painted over continuously. I had fun when I was part of that group, but I don’t feel like dragging it out. I don’t want to cling to nice memories of the past as I work, and want to focus on how I currently think and feel. I want to do what I think is most fun at the moment.

#takemiya keiko #keiko takemiya #竹宮惠子 #24年組 #year 24 group #interview #hato yo!#鳩よ!#shoujo manga history #manga history #kaze to ki no uta #風と木の詩 #takemiya keiko interview #yaoi

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red-dead-sakharine · 1 year ago

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Raphael defeated Ketheric by using Yurgir

idk if this is common knowledge or not, but I puzzled it together only yesterday because I always missed a crucial NPC to see the whole picture. So here it is:

From the architect of Moonrise towers - the Infernal Mason you encounter in the House of Hope - you learn that:

Ketheric at some point, after the death of his wife, forsook Selûne and became a Shar worshipper. He had an army that he sent to war, to spread the darkness.

The architect saw his master's evil and made a deal with Raphael: His soul, for the destruction of Ketheric's army.

Raphael kept his word, and Ketheric's forces were destroyed by fiends.

Now, from the Elder Rothé near the Grymforge waypoint you learn that:

Ketheric's army consisted of Dark Justiciars.

A "hellbeast came with the mask-men" and destroyed the army.

And of course we know that Yurgir is trapped in the temple of Shar because his contract forces him to kill all Dark Justiciars.

So now, you know why:

The Architect made a deal with Raphael to stop Ketheric's army of Dark Justiciars.

Raphael contracted Yurgir (who brought his Merigons) to fulfil his own side of the contract.

Yurgir destroyed the army, but because one Dark Justiciar escaped with Raphael's help, he got trapped.

Why trap Yurgir?

We don't really know - unless I've yet to find it. We do know Raphael considers Yurgir dangerous, so it could be simply security. Trapping a dangerous asset, until it's needed again. He clearly had plans, since he makes Yurgir commander for presumably the conquest of the hells.

Why help Lyrthindor hide?

To trap Yurgir, but also

Yurgir claims that Raphael mentioned an aasimar

Theory: Raphael might have known, that only a Sharran/Dark Justiciar can kill the Nightsong. So he kept one alive, in case he ever has to kill her.

Why though? He probably knew Ketheric was kept immortal by the Nightsong, so the question would be: Why did Raphael want to keep Ketheric alive? Did he see this entire dead three plot coming? I wouldn't put it past him.

I shall keep investigating, and update this post as I learn more. If anyone has more info, please lmk!

Additional musings:

Why does Yurgir have Raphael's boots??

👉 more on Raphael being a bard

#bg3 #raphael #baldur's gate 3 #yurgir #ketheric #raphael has been playing 4D lanceboard for a LONG time #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #rds

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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 months ago

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hello! i was wondering whether or not you can envision someone as better suited for tom/voldemort since i remember you saying neither harry nor hermione would be a match — them being the most popular two characters shipped with tom. and on that note, what do you think about bellatrix and voldemort? pro/against?

i tend to get a bit blindsided by the sheer obsession she has for him, honestly. i mean… i feel like she would be willing to shape herself down to the last atom to what appeals to him, if he ever were to show any true interest, and that’s very… sad.

Hello 👋

Thank you for the ask and as with all ship asks, ship what you ship, these are just my subjective opinions.

Now, what I said about Tomarrymort is that I don't think they would realistically get together and have a functioning relationship, I didn't say it wasn't fun. Like, I love Tomarrymort, but only if the relationship is a messy push and pull that makes everyone (both involved and uninvolved) miserable.

Now, as for Bellamort...

Do I think they had sex at some point in canon? Maybe. Like, that's not the most absurd thing about CC for me, so I consider it plausible.

Do I think Voldemort actually likes Bella romantically? Not really.

Do I think their relationship works like an actual equal functional relationship? Not one bit.

Do I think their relationship is entertaining and interesting? I mean, clearly, many people do, but I don't like Bellamort.

Like, it really doesn't interest me. There's a reason I only like Tomarrymort when there's a push and pull and Harry and Tom are portrayed as the equals they are. Like, I don't like Tomarrymort where Harry is completely submissive to Voldemort and Bellamort for the same reason — these aren't the kind of relationships that make Tom interesting.

I like both Tom and Bellatrix a lot as individuals, but I don't think a romantic and/or sexual relationship between them pushes their characters to interesting places. They are both stagnate in this relationship and, for me personally, that just doesn't interest me.

Like, Bellatrix is completely submissive to Voldemort nodding her head excitedly and panting after him: "Yes my lord! Whatever you say, my lord!" And this is not the type of dynamic that'd push either character towards growth. They don't push each other into a character arc, which is what I usually like my ships to do.

Additionally, this dynamic basically means Voldemort always gets what he wants, and Bellatrix is happy with it, as you said, she'd shape herself for his every whim. This isn't a relationship between equals. It's a relationship where she worships him and he doesn't respect her or care about her as a person. Like, at all.

The dynamic we see from them in the books gave me the impression Voldemort cares about Bellatrix. He doesn't want her to be hurt or to die:

Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.

(DH)

But he cares about her like how you care about your favorite pet. He relished in giving her orders and having her submit completely:

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. “Master, you should know —” “Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?” “But Master — he is here — he is below —” Voldemort paid no attention.

(OotP)

He doesn't actually care about her being hurt if it's not too bad, he doesn't care about her feelings or apologies, especially not when Harry is right in front of him — his obsession, his one failure. Bellatrix takes a backseat, basically always. He doesn't care about her all that much. He cares and respects her like a loyal dog, not like a person he has a relationship with.

He also relished in humiliating and embarrassing her. He likes making fun of her in ways Bella clearly does not enjoy, which isn't something you'd do to someone you love:

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.” There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

(DH)

she's desperate to please him, to tell him everything she thinks he wants to hear and she happily lets him treat her like fucking dirt. I don't find a relationship like that compelling, as I said, Voldemort would never change for Bellatrix and Bellatrix honestly deserves better than this. He even lets other Death Eaters jeer and laugh at her, this is not a romantic relationship.

Like even if he had sex with her, it was purely physical as he just doesn't care about her as a person like this. As more than a faithful servant (which he enjoys making fun of, as he does so for many of them).

And he is unwilling to show her real, unintentional weakness or ask her for help:

“My Lord, let me—” “I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand.

(DH)

He does trust her with one of his Horcrux as the cup is kept in her vault and she seems to know what it is:

“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!” She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . .”

(DH)

He trusts her loyalty, and she is one of his preferred Death Eaters (he doesn't hate her like he does Wormtail, Tom appreciates courage and loyalty, which are both traits Bellatrix possesses) but he clearly doesn't trust her with his backstory in the first war:

“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?” “STUPEF —” “NO!” A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. [...] “He dared — he dares —” shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. “— He stands there — filthy half-blood —”

(OotP)

She doesn't really know who Voldemort is. She worships the persona of Voldemort. She loves his lies and masks. She doesn't actually know Tom Riddle. And I don't think she could accept and love the real Tom Riddle behind the title of Voldemort — the poor but brilliant nerdy half-blood who craves recognition. She would find him pathetic.

It's basically Hinny, isn't it?

She adores his persona and fame and what people think he is without actually knowing or understanding him. She changes her personality to fit what she thinks his girl needs to be because she is so focused on being with him. And He likes that she doesn't get in his way and lets him do and say whatever without crying about it but doesn't care about her or her feelings nearly as much as people think.

Bellamort is just Hinny with a different skin, and I never liked Hinny.

Like Hinny, they don't know or understand each other, and it's clear Bella and Ginny care about Voldemort and Harry more than the boys care about them. Like, yes, Harry would be devastated if Ginny died, but he'd get over it way faster than he did about Sirius. Same for Voldemort, he cares about Bella, but not as an equal he understands and cares for the feelings of. Voldemort got over Bella's death fairly quickly as well, he's way more focused on Harry.

So, with all of this, who do I think is the best pairing for Voldemort?

If we're talking about canon characters who are actually characters in the books? Then Harry is my top choice. Harry is the only one Voldemort would see as an equal and can actually push and change Voldemort as much as Voldemort changes him. There is no other character in canon, I believe, who would be able to do this to the level Harry could. Their dynamic is just so mutually obsessive and tense that a relationship like that can't not change both of them in a myriad of interesting ways.

Though, I was thinking about it, and Severus/Voldemort have potential. Voldemort clearly respects Sev and his opinions more than the average Death Eater:

Snape did not speak. “Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord—”

(DH)

He cares about him and regrets having to kill him:

Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly

(DH)

Voldy is willing to forgive Sev for things he'd kill most for. They have so much shared experience (poor, muggle childhood in incredibly abusive environments) that would allow them to understand each other. They probably both get frustrated over pureblood idiocy. Both are intelligent and share many interests, like they're both magic nerds who'd talk all night about magical theory...

So, I think, under the right circumstances, Severus is a pretty good pairing for Voldemort.

The only real downside is that depending on when they get together, they'd push each other to be more extremist and overall worse. Like, they'd push each other to have less empathy for other people if they get together, say, during the first war. Well, it might not be a downside. It really depends on how you look at it.

If they get together in the second war, it's different, and in my opinion, more compelling and interesting for both of them. Like, pairing them up after Voldemort's return and after Sev already turned traitor opens so many interesting avenues. I mean, Sev was someone Voldemort actually regretted killing, that was remorse there, wasn't it? It means Severus could push Voldemort to change in a way Bellatrix doesn't. Because Voldemort respects Snape in a way he doesn't respect Bella. I mean, think about how many times Voldemort shut Bella down when she kept insisting Snape is a traitor — it's clear he values Snape more than he values her.

If we're also looking at side characters we don't know as much about, then we have some more options.

@iamnmbr3 has convinced me that Alphard Black/Tom Riddle is an option, and I have been very compelled by it. We don't know much about Alphard, but that never really stopped me because what we do know is interesting.

We know he is Sirius' uncle. He was born after Walburga but before Cygnus, probably closer in age to Walburga. So, I headcanon he was born in 1927 and was in the same year as Tom Riddle.

We know Alphard was a Slytherin since Sirius mentions all his family was in Slytherin, which would include his uncle. And we know Alphard was burned off the family tapestry when he gave Sirius money when Sirius ran away from home.

This leaves us with a character, who's cunning, capable of listening to his older sister Walburga go off about whatever without making the fight worse but has a spine to stand up to her bullshit when it's actually important. This gives him the right characteristics to be able to wrangle a character arc out of a romance with a younger Tom Riddle (and perhaps the older one, too).

He's a pureblood who's open-minded enough to support Sirius and not hate muggleborns (probably). He likely has the subtlety necessary to fix Tom without Tom feeling like he's being fixed. Alphard, used to his very eventful family, is an expert in dealing with dramatic people (like his siblings) and how to undercut their drama instead of pushing them further into their position (which is what Harry would do, for example. Harry and Tom would keep pushing at each other while someone like Alphard would be able to just remove the heat from the argument and allow it to not get as extreme).

Again, it's not much to go on, but it has so much potential.

(Also, @iamnmbr3 has this post about how Voldemort’s violence became worse in 1979, which happens to be the same year Alphard Black died, and while I don't agree with all the points made there, I find it to be a super fun concept)

Voldemort/Lily also has potential. She's smart, stubborn, academically inclined, and has the right rough edges to have the kind of push-and-pull dynamic with Voldemort that I like with Tomarrymort. Lily is probably the kind of witch Voldemort could grow to respect as well. I don't think he would've agreed to spare her for Snape if he didn't respect both of them. JKR also said he tried to recruit James and Lily, so, he was aware that she was talented.

I think, though, Lily/Voldemort would be slightly better than Harry/Voldemort in some aspects. Lily isn't as hot-headed as Harry. Lily's anger is usually much colder, which I feel would work better with Tom just because she wouldn't push all his buttons (just most of them). She would still push him into a character arc, but it would be a gentler nudge than if Harry did it.

My only real rule when shipping Tommy Boy is that he can't be shipped with someone mediocre, he'll just steamroll over them completely, and that's not as fun, in my opinion. He needs a partner he can grow to respect and see as an equal (or close to it) and that has the spine to stand up to him, otherwise, he'd just keep getting what he wants, and I think that's the opposite of what Voldemort needs in a relationship.

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