06sess1ve1over

19, French, he/him♡ focused on harrymort // what is there not to say? 9

[yourmarked-one]

This is my Harry Potter / Tomarrymort focused blog (as well as my main one). I have two other blogs: my Hannibal / Hannigram blog here, and my MCU / Starker blog here.

Welcome to my page!

about me : Eliott, 18y/o, he/him, & french -- writer, beta reader, & musician, majoring in English literature

you can ask me or send me anything whether it be here on tumblr or on my strawpage, I'll always answer except if your request makes me uncomfortable!

im also learning how to draw, so any tips or critism is welcomed! (no bashing or hate, please)

if you'd like to simply speak or for us to become friends, my DMs on both twitter and tumblr are open :)

you can find me on : ao3, twitter or discord (elithebeee)

[yourmarked-one]

Can Love Break Fate?

Purge but also an actual wip. Posted to be safe but I'll post the full version on ao3!

Purge : "No Longer You"

He had thought all of this would be over. The threats, the harassment, the disappointed look on his friend's face… He had thought that if he just got over it, told the Order and the world that he refused to kill Voldemort, someday, everything would settle down.

Of course, he had known that it would take time. That the people who hadn't settled into their new life yet would be angry for a while, but that they would end up living their lives, like everybody else. At first, Harry had been one of those angry people. But then, he had just wanted to live his life and be left alone, which was honestly a pretty easy fit.

Voldemort's rule wasn't like he had expected it to be at all. It wasn't full of wars or genocides. Instead — after he had gotten the power and managed to keep on with his issues without having to follow his follower's wants — it was actually quite an uneventful, safe for the changes in politics, life to be lived.

At least, to Harry, not having to fight in wars and see his friends die all the time was definitely an improvement. But then again, he was a little biased.

Even though the war had ended, and Harry no longer had to fight, he still had to be involved in diplomatic relations. The Order didn't like that very much — as they liked when Harry just showed his face without stating his opinion — but when faced with the choice of losing their symbol for the Resistance, they accepted.

This led to Harry getting to know Voldemort and his ideas a little bit more. While he still wasn't on board with the extreme violence, he found that he mostly agreed with the ideas Voldemort had — not including the ones he had followed because of his followers.

Eventually, as their private meetings became more frequent, Harry got a liking for the Dark Lord. He was the person that he liked having these discussions the most with, because he felt like they actually understood each other. When he found out that he was Voldemort's Horcrux, he realised that he couldn't keep this peaceful life of his, which he had only lived for a few months, if he killed Voldemort. The good news was that he didn't want to anymore.

So, Harry made an easy choice. Or at least, when he made it, he thought it was rather easy. Voldemort's reign brought no further suffering than before, Harry didn't want Voldemort to die, no one wanted Harry to die… Quite obvious, if you asked him.

He didn't voice it, at first, because he knew that the people who were still convinced that Voldemort was nothing but violence, but eventually, the pressure of the Order grew on him. He expected them to be angry, disappointed, and feel lost as the one person who had been fated to defeat Voldemort refused to do so. He didn't expect them to try and replace him.

[yourmarked-one]

Purge : I regret it

I've corrected this a little. It's readable now. Still not so proud of it, but I hope you enjoy!

Purge XL : "I regret it"

The dungeons of Hogwarts were never kind to those who wandered them at night, but for Tom Riddle and Harry Potter, the darkness felt like an old companion. One, like an ancient deity, that whispered truths they weren’t ready to face.

The duel had been Harry’s fault. He knew it. The reckless spell, the poorly controlled magic, the way the red-haired Slytherin had crumpled to the ground, clutching his arm as it smoked from the misfired Reducto. Harry had healed him quickly, his hands shaking as he poured magic into the wound, but the damage wasn’t just physical. The look in the boy’s eyes—betrayal, fear—had seared itself into Harry’s memory.

The boy had come here out of pure ego. He had nothing to do with either Harry or Tom. He probably didn't think anything truly dangerous would happen. They were on Hogwarts grounds, after all.

Tom had been silent since the boy — he didn't even know his name — had taken his last breath. Not the furious silence of a scolding, but something worse: the quiet of a storm that had already passed, leaving only ruin in its wake. He stood with his back against the damp stone wall, his fingers tracing the edge of his wand, his expression unreadable.

Harry swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Tom’s laugh was a sharp, brittle thing. “Didn’t you? Or did you just not care enough to stop?”

The words landed like a slap. Harry flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Tom’s voice was dangerously soft. “What’s fair about any of this, Potter? You waltz in here, the hero of the hour, the boy who lived—my boy who lived—and suddenly you think you can play with death?" He scoffed. "As if you had any control of yourself, and of that crazy magic of yours."

Harry’s jaw tightened. “I do control myself.”

“Do you?” Tom pushed off the wall, his movements fluid, like a snake stalking its prey. “Then why does it always end like this? Why do you always end up hurting people?”

Harry’s hands clenched into fists. “Because of you, Tom. Because you push me. Because of—” Harry stopped, realising he was about to say too much. Tom looked at him, waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

After a few seconds, Tom spoke again. “You are the one who started this. You are the one who travelled through time, trying to play with fate, and, for what? So that you could see me again? You've never actually told me why you did all this, you know, Potter?" Harry looked at the ground, unable to meet Tom in the eyes. "I really hope all of this will have been worth it. Because now you've killed an innocent boy.”

Harry finally looked up at him. He could see the dissimilated satisfaction in Tom's eyes — hidden in a way that he had seen many time in his future-self. He knew that the Slytherin didn't actually care about the boy's death, he was just afraid of what Harry was capable of.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Harry said quietly. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. How to deal with you or them, so that they don't figure me out. And with all this power that I have know…”

Tom stilled. For a moment, Harry thought he saw something flicker in his eyes—something like vulnerability. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar mask of indifference. “Of course you don't. No one would.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Harry wanted to reach for him, to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, but the words stuck in his throat. Because Tom was right. Harry did let things spiral. He acted first and thought later, and it always ended in disaster.

Tom turned away, his cloak billowing behind him like a shadow given form. “Go back to your golden Gryffindor friends, Potter. Before I decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”

Harry’s chest ached. He wanted to scream, to demand that Tom listen, that he understand that this—this—was the last thing Harry had wanted. But the words wouldn’t come. Because deep down, he knew the truth: Tom didn’t want to understand. Not really.

As he climbed the stairs back to the castle, Harry’s fingers brushed the cold stone wall, grounding himself in the present. The dungeons stretched behind him, dark and unforgiving, just like the choices he’d made. Choices that had led him here, to this moment of regret, this place where love and pain twisted together like vines around a broken tree.

He didn’t know if Tom felt the same hollow ache in his chest. He didn’t know if Tom even remembered what it was like to feel anything at all. But as Harry walked into the flickering torchlight of the corridor, one thought burned brighter than the rest:

He should have stopped it sooner.

[yourmarked-one]

Traditions

I'm back with another purge. I really didn't want to write today because of how hot it was at my place, but this was a purge XL so I had to write this for my future self's sake.

The prompt was "International Tea Day" and this came in mind. It's very very simple and probably not worth a read but it is 500 words! Still - hope you enjoy :)

Voldemort had been sitting at his desk, rummaging through neatly organised piles of paper when a knock came at his door. "Come in," he answered, having felt the pull of his Horcrux getting nearer.

As expected, Harry Potter walked into the room, carrying with him a tray with a cup of tea and some biscuits to go alongside it. The food was unexpected but not unwelcomed. Usually, Harry would ask for one of the elves to bring Voldemort something to eat around 5, knowing not to disturb his husband in the middle of the day. Plus, he is usually is as much face down in his work as Voldemort.

Harry greeted him with a smile and placed the tray down on the table near Voldemort's desk. He walked towards him and said, "Hey, darling. How's today going?"

"Alright," Voldemort replied calmly. He put his quill down and leaned back in his chair, focusing on Harry. "You don't usually come in at this time of the day."

"I know. But I went to do some shopping today to continue on our little tradition," Harry explained, a small smile still tugging at his lips. Voldemort's eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what tradition Harry was referring to. Then, as he took in a deep breath and smelled the tea that had been brought to him, he understood.

Every year, on International Tea Day, Harry and Voldemort bought the other's favourite tea, to have a small batch of them which would last for about a year. This had been started two years into their relationship, when they had coincidentally went on to buy the leaves for one another. Since then, without fault, neither of them had forgotten — until today.

Voldemort stayed silent for a few moments, looking at the cup of tea seated on the tray with a distant look. "I," he started, hesitating. "I didn't realise what day it was."

"It's alright," his husband replied, drawing the Dark Lord's attention once more. "I know how busy you've been."

Voldemort shook his head and stood up. "You have been incredibly busy too, now that you have taken on your position at the Ministry on top of teaching. This is no excuse."

Harry raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "My occupations are far different and require much less work and time than yours. You're managing diplomatic affairs, a country's economics, rebel sides… You can't compare your work to mine."

No one said a word for a few moments. While Voldemort didn't apologise out loud, Harry could feel the weight his eyes bore and leaned up to kiss his husband, as a gesture of forgiveness. Voldemort sighed at the contact between him and his beloved. His hands went up to hold his cheeks, and he deepened the kiss slightly before pulling back.

"You should get back to work," Harry told him, but decided not to leave the room. Instead, he apparated some work papers of his own and settled down next to Voldemort, reviewing over them while Voldemort unsuccessfully tried to forget their interaction.

The next day, Harry was woken up by a nice surprise. Instead of finding the place in his bed next to him empty, his husband was watching over him and holding an envelope in his hand. It turned out that, overwhelmed by a kind of regret, Voldemort had decided to make it a tradition that the day following International Tea Day, the married couple would spend their day together, free of work.

[wwwwwwwvwvvv]

Залетаю теперь и в тамблер с артами с Реном СПАСИБО ЭТОЙ ГИПЕРФИКСАЦИИ с ней у меня скилл невероятно вырос

[yourmarked-one]

Trade Your Heart - Purge Work

This is my submission for both the Purge (yearning) and Purge XL (Fairy Tales Retelling AU) launched on the same day! Had another idea but would've taken me too long to write, so you get this :) Enjoy<3

Far in the ocean, a little mermaid lived.

As all his siblings before him, he was allowed his first glimpse of the human world on his fifteenth birthday. From afar, he saw the most beautiful man he ever will — the Prince of the Uplands.

Submerged by his beauty, the Mermaid went on to ask everyone for every last bit of information the people have on him. With every fact given to him, the little mermaid fell in love just a little deeper. Until, one day, a ship came.

The Little Mermaid, who had been watching not so far, spotted the Prince, Harry, rather quickly. He stayed nearby, observing every movement the royal made, until something struck the ship and it began sinking.

The Little Mermaid, worried for the Prince's safety, swam as fast as he could to recover Harry's body and bring it to the shore, where he would be saved. Someone came to grab him and bring him back at the castle the Little Mermaid was now seeing up-close, and the sea-creature went back to its home, comforted by the Prince's well-being.

Seeing the Prince up-close and where he lived made the Little Mermaid even more interested into being able to live with him. He beg his father, the King of the Sea, who strictly forbid him from ever trying such a thing.

Feeling lost, and with no other option, the Little Mermaid went to see the Sea Witch, who proposed for him a bargain, "Give me your heart, and I will give you legs."

The Little Mermaid, not understanding the implications, accepted the deal, although being aware that he might never see his siblings again as the Witch had explained that he would never turn back into a mermaid again.

However, as he arrived to the shore he had left his Prince at, the Little Mermaid felt no remorse. He drank the potion, and arrived naked and unconscious to the place he now belonged.

The next time the Little Mermaid awoke, he was in a room, unlike one he had ever seen before.

Much to the Little Mermaid's content, Prince Harry was the first person to have noticed him being awake. When asked for his name, the Little Mermaid borrowed the name no one knew his father by, and called himself Tom.

The two lived good months together, despite one thing having bothered Tom. It seemed that, try as hard as he might, the Mermaid was unable to feel affection towards anyone but his beloved Prince. Instead, he felt much resentment towards them, especially jealousy when it came to the women trying to steal his Harry.

But this did not matter much to Tom. He was sure that all of Harry's affection was cast towards him, and that feeling was confirmed even further when the Prince told his father, "I will only marry the person who saved me that fateful day, for I have fallen in love with them."

Tom, having known that this very person is him, felt incredibly reassured in that he would be the only subject of love in Harry's eyes.

One day, a Princess arrived. She claimed to have been the one to have saved Tom all those moons ago, despite not even having been in the Uplands at the time of the incident.

However — handsome and kind as he might be, Harry stays a foolish human — the Prince believed the woman and made the decision to marry her. This pleased his father, who was more than happy to let Harry marry a princess out of love for her.

On the other hand, Tom felt an unwavering feeling of pure rage for this princess. His rage reaches mountains so high that he resorts to committing what his father had taught him to be the worst act a living being can do, killing the usurper.

Although Tom had tried to make the act as secret as he could, he did not manage to bear the guilt he felt over having made his Prince grieve. Whilst trying to comfort him, the Little Mermaid slipped, and let it know that she was not worthy of him.

The King soon understood who had killed the traitorous Princess, and had him imprisoned, then put on trial for treason. The Little Mermaid, who tried to explain he was the one the Prince had fallen in love with, was sentenced to death by drowning, as ironic as it may be.

The day of the sentence, Tom was put on a boat and sailed in the ocean he once called home. Along on board with him was the King and his forever lasting love, who looked at him with confusion and fondness both during the entire journey. The Little Mermaid did all he could to try and convince him of the truth, but the guards surrounding him were hard to deal with.

Once the Little Mermaid was about to be sent to see, his sisters appeared in the sea and offered him a deal, just as the Sea Witch had before. "If you drink this potion, you will gain back your tail once more. It will come at the price of a royal, whose death will come from your hands, and of your eternal place in Heaven."

Tom immediately refused, as he would rather die and gain his place in Heaven with Harry by his side, someday, for all of eternity, than have to kill his one true love and lose him forever.

After his refusal, a fatal hit was launched upon him by the King, making the Little Mermaid go unconscious. The Prince, who had been shocked at the mermaids' encounter and the revelation that his beloved had not lied, killed his father in a fit of rage and love for the Mermaid. He then took the vial offered by Tom's siblings and forcefully fed it to the man, who slowly turned back into his original form.

With the mermaids' help, Tom was thrown back to the sea where he would recover his health in the span of a few days.

A few weeks after this event, a rumour spread across all the Kingdoms that the Prince of the Uplands had made a deal with a merchant, that he had traded part of his soul for a place amongst his lover's people.

[yourmarked-one]

Love is the cruelest thing of them all

Hi everyone! Another purge post. I decided to post this here and not on ao3 because i really want to make a longfic out of this, so I'm counting this as more of a WIP / outline than a real work. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Purge : abandon

They had won the war. Peace was restored, the Wizarding World continue on to prosper, and gained even more technological progress than before thanks to the acceptation of Muggle technology. Hermione had become Prime Minister, Ron became an Auror, and Harry — after careful reflection and almost following Ron in his path — became a Minister, charged of his own department.

Everything was well, and, even though there were many people whom people grieved for many long years, eventually, life returned to being as normal as it could be. However, there was one person, as he often is, who became the exception to that rule. Harry Potter.

After having defeated the Dark Lord, Harry only became more famous and envied by the people of Wizarding Britain. This did not please Harry much, but he also understood. People needed a saviour, someone to look up to, and what if he needed to start wearing tinted glasses and a hoodie in public? That wasn't the end of the world.

The one thing that truly disturbed Harry, was having to take care of Voldemort. And eventually falling in love with him. But honestly, that part was Harry's fault. The boy had refused to actually kill him, to raise his wand and perform a spell so powerful that it would take the Dark Lord's life. Of course, no one had to know. His friends largely helped him in disarming Voldemort, and many powerful people from the Order set up wards all around a manor, which also became Harry's residence, to keep Voldemort there.

But, outside of Harry's close friends and people from the Order, no one knew of Voldemort's true predicament, and it was best that it would remain that way. Harry had a little bit of trouble keeping from the entire Wizarding population that the greatest Dark Lord to ever live was still alive. He felt like he was betraying them, and with the very powerful job he had, he felt like he was just continuing the tradition of politicians lying to the people. But, as Hermione kept reminding him, there was no other choice. Except if Harry wanted to kill him now, of course.

Harry reassured himself by telling himself that, having had all of his Horcruxes destroyed, Voldemort would eventually die of old age. And, with how weak he had becoming by having had his soul ripped in 7 pieces, it was quite obvious that the wizard wouldn't stay alive for much longer.

Whilst that had been a reassuring thought at the time, less than 10 years after the fact, Harry started dreading that information, and the fact that Voldemort would surely die soon, with how weak he came to be.

It had been hard, at the start, having to take care of the man who ruined his childhood, took his parents away from him, and who would haunt his dreams forever. But as time went on, he found that he had grown to like the man. And, after years of spending holidays together, cooking for one another, and bonding with each other… Harry could feel himself starting to fall in love with the one he once called his enemy.

Of course, it was hard to tell whether his feelings were reciprocated, or not. While Voldemort had definitely softened to Harry, he still wasn't going telling everyone or showing how he felt. So, he didn't say anything. Not to his friends, not to Voldemort, not to anyone.

About 15 years into this arrangement, Voldemort started getting seriously, dangerously ill. Harry started having dreams of living alone, in that empty house, with no one to share his day's trouble at his side. So, even though he had promised himself to let Voldemort die peacefully when the time would come, he decided to instead hire a healer, which he then swore to secrecy.

Harry thought that trying to keep Voldemort alive, practically betraying all of his friends and family, would make him feel this immense feeling of guilt. But there was none of it. Instead, Harry felt relieved and happy, and knowing that Voldemort wouldn't have wanted to die anyway, he was in no way scared when the man woke up from a long slumber.

Thanks to Harry's actions, Voldemort kept on living for another 20 years. In that time, Harry finally found the courage to confess his love to the former Dark Lord. And, thank Merlin, he found that his feeling were, in fact, reciprocated. The two didn't get an official wedding, or a grand ceremony, but Harry was thankful and happy for every year that he got to spend with Voldemort, and the latter thought the same.

But, as all good things, and especially in the life of Harry Potter, this happiness had to come to an end. The 25th of April 2033, Voldemort took his last breath, and left the world as peacefully as anyone could — in his sleep, with his beloved by his side.

Harry was devastated. People didn't understand why. Only his closest of friends, Ron and Hermione, had had some suspicions of how his relationship with Voldemort truly was going. Hermione agreed for Harry to take a period of absence, and the latter used of it to make the most of grievance.

When he came back to work, still exhausted and feeling like he was missing a piece of himself, the workload and responsibilities that were put onto his shoulders turned out to be too much. He couldn't handle all of this work, all of this fame, all of this hiding while Voldemort wasn't by his side. He had no one to come home to, to complain to, to take care of, to talk to, to fight with, to make love to, and that tore him from the inside out.

Eventually, he decided that he had enough. At 53 years old, he found that nothing was worth holding on to anymore, not in this universe at least, and so he decided that he would leave this life. He felt somewhat guilty for abandoning Ron and Hermione, but he knew that they would, ultimately, be fine.

[yourmarked-one]

Lack of Motivation

This work is still a W.I.P.. I am posting it here as to be able to complete the purge!<3

Purge XL : Isekai

Harry sighed as he finally open up the door of one of the many abandoned classrooms that resided Hogwarts, and made his way in. Having had to escape from his friends' questioning of the note he had received earlier was more exhausting than he had imagined it would be, but he had made it. After all, he couldn't risk his secret getting out now that he had battled his entire day trying to get out of questioning glances.

He entered the room, and closed the door behind him, expecting Tom Riddle to be standing next to the front desk of the classroom but finding no one. He cast a Tempus charm which revealed it to be exactly 2:00PM, exactly the time the note had told him to be here.

Harry found this weird. If there was one thing he knew for sure had not changed with Riddle, it was that he was always on time. So, were the hell was he? He hadn't threatened to reveal the fact that Harry is a parstletongue to the entire school just for funsies, had he?

Just as Harry was about to storm out of the room on his way curse Riddle in the worst way possible, the door opened behind him. He immediately turned around with an insult ready to be fired from his lips, but was met with the sight of the new student instead of Riddle's.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up but he finally made sense of the situation. Tom Riddle was planning to trick him using the new fourth year as some kind of bait. Unfortunately for him, Harry was not about to let this happen.

Harry took a step forward and offered his hand for the new student to take. "Hey! Eliott, right?"

"That's me! You're Harry Potter, I imagine?", Eliott answered.

"Indeed. Was Tom Riddle the one who told you to be here?" The student hummed positively in response. "You should know that he's not always one to be trusted."

"I thought you two were friends," replied Eliott.

Harry pulled a face at the comment. "We used to be. Now it's more like we tip-toe around each other."

"Oh. How come you two aren't friends anymore, then?"

"Well—" Harry started, only to be interrupted by the sound of the door both students had come from opening up again. When Harry looked to see who it was, he was greeted with the late presence of Tom Riddle. The Slytherin closed the door behind him. "How nice of you to show up," Harry said in lieu of a cold greeting.

Riddle raised an eyebrow at him, before glancing at Eliott, then staring back at Harry. "Excuse my tardiness in responding to your threat." Harry blinked twice, confused. "Slughorn had me occupied."

"What do you mean my threat to you?" Harry asked. "You're the one who sent me a note."

The raised eyebrow was back, only this once it was accompanied by a look of confusion. Then, slowly, they both turned to look at Eliott, who was smiling widely at the both of them. "Alright, alright," he started. "It was me who sent out the notes. I just didn't know how else to get the both of you here at the same time!"

Harry could see Riddle, from the corner of his eyes, start taking out his wand, and he prepared himself to have to go the same. After all, how had Eliott known that Harry was a parstletongue? That was something only he and Riddle knew, which is why he thought the note was from him. As for Riddle… There was a hundred different things that note could have said, and Harry could bet it was nothing good.

Eliott pointedly noticed both older students' hands reaching for their wands and took a step back. "Before the two of you ask," he started again, his tone cautious. "The only reason that I knew those things I threatened you about in these notes is because I'm not from this world."

A long silence followed Eliott's confession. Both wizards looked at the new student as if he had said the most incomprehensible ever.

"I'm sorry," slowly said Tom Riddle, still in disbelief. "What?"

Eliott winced, understanding the confusion but having hoped that both characters would have understood the predicament. "I'm from a world, much similar to yours, but where the Wizarding kind does not exist, and you two are actually characters from a series of novels."

Harry's jaw dropped.

"You're lying." Tom refuted, still stuck on the impossibility of travelling between worlds.

"You know," continued Eliott, "I really wish I were. 'Cause I really just want to be able to go back home to go write about you two." The formulation of that sentence didn't seem to register to either of them, Tom still being cautious about this whole thing and Harry trying to wrap his head around it.

"Right, okay," Harry mumbled. "Why don't you just… go back home, then?"

Eliott groaned, and his shoulders dropped. "That's the thing. I can't. And, well, the only possible explanation I have for being sent here is that I was writing at my desk when I hit a wall and was basically unable to continue for lack of motivation. So, I wished that some motivation could come directly from the source. From you two."

"Then you were teleported here?" Tom asked, receiving a nod from Eliott in return. "You said that you hit a dead end, when writing? You may need to accomplish that action here to be able to go back home and write about it."

Eliott nodded along all while Riddle was talking, then replied, "Yes, that's what I thought too. And that's why I sent these notes to you two to get you both here."

Both Griffondor and Slytherin raised an eyebrow at the out-worldly man, wondering what they would have to do to send him back, and, most importantly, not have all of their precious secrets revealed.

"You see, when I meant that I was writing about you two," Eliott winced, "I meant that in a romantic way."

Once again, a long silence filled the room before both characters snapped out of it and grew red, though Harry also looked half-mortified. The latter exclaimed, "I'm sorry, what?"

[ivy-afterglow]

teen wolf be like: someone dies another person dies the town is under supernatural attack again

and then there’s a lacrosse game

[inravenroux]

this is MY bobcat shifter stiles propaganda and I stand by it

[ldoggi]

Mi computadora murio hace meses pero bueno, ya estamos aqui yei

[tomegamort]

Ω 🔥Tomegamort Fest '26🔥 Ω

An Omega Tom | Omega Voldemort Tomarrymort Fest conceived by Bagel (houndsofheaven) and hosted by Mick (alexipharmic) & Cee. 

With a slip of my scent and a tilt of my head, you moan my name and fall beneath my spell.

Omegas can be submissive and demure, the more gracile of the three dynamic genders of alpha, beta, and omega.  They can be discriminated against, abused, and even enslaved.  But they can also be gifts to their pack - a fertile broodmare, a nurturing matriarch, an inciting treasure to be fought for - catered to, pampered, and beloved. 

For more cool events, check out the Tomarrymort Events discord server: [Invite Link]

🔻🔻🔻Information, timeline, rules, and more below the cut🔻🔻🔻

This is an an open, moderated, prompt meme challenge to be revealed May 18th.

Prompting, claiming, and posting will happen on the Tomegamort collection on AO3.

Prompting: March 23 (12:00 AM GMT+00:00 UTC) - April 05 (11:59 PM GMT+00:00 UTC)

Claiming & Writing: April 06 (12:00 AM GMT+00:00 UTC) - May 17 (11:59 PM GMT+00:00 UTC)

Fics Revealed: May 18 (12:00 AM GMT+00:00 UTC)

Collection Closed: June 18

Any interpretations of omegaverse (traditional, non-traditional, etc.) is welcome so long as Tom | Voldemort is omega-presenting

Works must include Omega Tom and/or Omega Voldemort

Works must also include Tomarry, Harrymort, and/or Tomarrymort

Works where the main ship involves Tom/Voldemort with someone other than Harry will be excluded from the collection

Use of AI is not allowed (editing programs like Grammarly are OK) 

Any rating is allowed

Dead Dove content is allowed 

Minimum length: 1000 words

Maximum length: None

Complete works only

Choose from the prompts or make your own story

Multiple claims to one prompt is allowed

Please complete one claimed prompt before claiming another 

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[yourmarked-one]

Purge : "Goodbye"

A few years ago, Harry James Potter had defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort. No one knows how exactly it was done, as, when the boy was asked, he would give a different answer each time. However, there were some things that had been confirmed by the other people who were present that day.

Harry Potter had been called into the Forbidden Forest, alone, and had met Voldemort there. The two of them had ended up facing each other, and whilst the Light and Dark were still fighting each other on the Hogwarts ground, two bursts of Magic — one red and one green — were seen to flare out of the greenery. Then, a deathly silence had fallen and stretched up until one of the two who had entered came out of the forest.

Much to the Wizarding World's delight, the survivor had been Harry James Potter.

By overall agreement, the press had attributed the red burst to have been cast by Mr. Potter, whilst the green Magic was said to have come from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, using a typical Avada Kedavra. The survivor's friends had assumed the same, but the fact that the boy would neither confirm nor deny the information worried some people. But the Dark Lord was dead, and that was all that really mattered.

After that fatal day, the Wizarding World returned to its original state, for the most part. Some reconstructions, such as the one of Hogwarts, had to be made, and no exact replicas existed, so of course it turned out a little different. Also, the way of life of many people of the Wizarding population were either traumatised, had lost a close-one, or were dead.

Harry Potter himself had lost many, many things during this period. He had lost people, his childhood, his education, his innocence, his peace and quiet — practically his entire life had been ruined by Lord Voldemort's presence and the creation of that prophecy. But, after the death of Voldemort, Harry had hoped that he would get to live a semi-normal life.

Of course, it was expected that what had happened to him and his friends during his first 17 years of living would have an impact on the life he would have afterwards. Still, he did believe that at least one part of his life that he'd been ripped off of would be given back to him : his privacy.

As before, he was aware that the fame of being the Boy-Who-Lived would follow him for years, and maybe even his whole life. He was aware that he would probably be added into history books, that he would be remembered for centuries as the holiday that was created on the 1st of May would keep his memory for a very long time — but he thought that the hell of having journalists at his door, trying to get every information about his personal life into their newspaper, would go away.

He found that it did not.

In fact, it only grew larger as some doors from the Muggle world into the Wizarding world were opened, and 21st century technology invited itself into people's lives. Harry Potter was now constantly followed by people who wanted an autograph, a picture, or a personal interview. He was never safe, never left alone, even in the comfort of his own home.

After years and years of still having no privacy, Harry decided to take drastic actions.

About 10 years after the death of the Dark Lord Voldemort, uprisings had started about the fact that Harry Potter might be a Dark Magic wielder, or at least that he had used it once, when defeating Voldemort. More and more people were becoming Light Magic purists, completely against the use of any and all Dark Magic, but also of the teachings of it, and the idea that their supposed saviour might have used said Magic greatly upset them.

In consequence, more and more attention was drawn to Harry Potter, but there were also attacks that were now started up against him. This gave Harry the perfect opportunity to do something another before him had managed : killing his self.

The process was easier than Harry had expected. He set fire to his own house, stood hidden behind his invisibility clock as he wished farewell to the life he once knew, and let Death draw him away into a peaceful place, where he would meet again with his prophesied one.

In a world far, far away, in a time unlike what they had lived through before, a rumour set off that two immortal individuals had been reigning for a very long time upon a powerful people. One leader whose initials are L.V., and the other who was said to have piercing green eyes and a lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

[vaserlord]

Don’t you like it when Harry just…

[yourmarked-one]

Together, Forever

Hello everyone! As apart of the Steter Secret Santa 2025 event, I've written this fanfic for @arsenicalikat , my giftee! It will be posted in 3 chapters.

Rating : Mature. Additional tags : Steter Secret Santa 2024 (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Initials Written In Your Soulmate's Handwriting, Kidnapping, Kidnapped Stiles Stilinski, Kidnapped Peter Hale, both kidnapped together, Werewolves, Bonding, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski has Powers from the Nogitsune, Good Nogitsune (Teen Wolf), Kind Of, he doesn't hurt stiles, Comatose Peter Hale, Starvation, Healing, POV Stiles Stilinski, POV Peter Parker, the fic is written in third person but the focaliser switches from stiles to peter, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Stiles Stilinski is 17, but this happens during canon first year.

@stetersecretsanta2025

[stilesispackmomof-thehalepack]

for @yourmarked-one

ONESHOT — “GREEN EYES DON’T LIE”

Sterek — canon-adjacent, post-Nogitsune, trauma bonding, mutual obsession, dark fluff, soulmates, marking, bite acceptance, idiots in love, possessive both ways.

Stiles first notices it in Derek’s eyes.

They’ve always been green, sure, but not like this—

not like alive, not like they’re looking straight through the world and finding only him worth focusing on.

Maybe it’s the way Derek watches him now.

Quiet.

Staring too long.

Breathing too slow.

Like Stiles is something hunted or holy—Derek can’t seem to decide which.

Stiles pretends he doesn’t notice.

Because he’s already too aware—painfully aware—of the way Derek is filling in all the empty spaces the nogitsune left behind. Too aware of how badly he wants to be held, to be claimed, to be kept safe.

Too aware that his crush is no longer a crush.

It’s a whole-ass disease, crawling under his ribs.

“Get in,” Derek says one night, leaning out the window of his black Camaro, engine rumbling like a promise.

The sound of that car always does something to Stiles’s spine.

Stupid, really. It’s just a car.

Just metal and paint and horsepower and the faint lingering scent of Derek’s leather jacket and aftershave and—

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice drops an octave. “Ride with me.”

Stiles blinks. “Where?”

“Does it matter?”

It really, really doesn’t.

He gets in.

-

The Camaro’s interior smells like pine, gun oil, and Derek Hale.

Stiles sinks into the seat and tries not to melt. Derek drives one-handed, the other resting on the gearshift like he owns the world.

Stiles’s chest hurts.

A pressure, like blooming petals and swallowed words.

He’s terrified it’s hanahaki.

Because of course it would be.

Of course he would fall in love with Derek Hale, who has been avoiding him for months.

Except—

Derek’s gaze flickers to him again.

Lingers on his throat.

His mouth.

“Are you alright?” Derek asks softly.

Stiles lies. “Peachy.”

Derek growls—not angry, but annoyed that Stiles isn’t giving him the truth.

The sound hits Stiles low in the stomach.

“I can hear your heart,” Derek says. “It’s—fast.”

“Maybe I’m excited,” Stiles shoots back.

Derek’s jaw flexes. “Are you?”

Stiles turns to the window. “Shut up.”

But Derek keeps looking at him with those impossible green eyes that promise more than Stiles has ever let himself hope for.

-

Derek parks on a lonely forest road, kills the engine, and sits there in the dark.

The forest is quiet.

The world still.

Stiles’s lungs hurt.

“Why did you bring me here?” he asks.

Derek doesn’t look away. “Because you’re not okay. And I need to know why you didn’t come to me.”

Stiles laughs, weak and cracked. “Why would I?”

“Because you’re mine,” Derek says.

Stiles freezes.

Derek flinches the second the words leave him, looking away like he’s embarrassed, like he expects ridicule, rejection, distance.

“Sorry,” Derek mutters. “It’s—instinct. Ignore it.”

Stiles can’t breathe.

“I don’t want to ignore it,” he says.

Derek’s head snaps toward him.

The full force of his gaze slams into Stiles’s chest, knocking the air out of him. Derek’s pupils are blown wide, eyes glowing faint green in the dark.

“You don’t?” Derek asks, voice low.

“No,” Stiles whispers. “But you—you can’t just say stuff like that. You don’t—You don’t feel—”

“You think I don’t feel anything?” Derek breathes, incredulous.

Stiles’s chest tightens painfully. “I think I’m imagining everything.”

“You’re not.”

A warm hand cups Stiles’s jaw.

Stiles feels like the world drops out from under him.

-

Stiles coughs.

Hard.

A petal falls into his palm.

Derek sees. Of course he sees.

He goes utterly, terrifyingly still.

“…Who?” Derek asks.

And Stiles wants to crawl into the earth and die.

“Don’t,” Stiles whispers. “Just—don’t.”

“Tell me,” Derek insists.

“Derek—”

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice breaks.

Derek Hale never breaks.

Stiles presses the petal to his chest like he can hide it there. “It’s you, okay? It’s—you.”

Derek shudders like Stiles just slammed claws into his heart.

Then he moves.

Not fast—slow. Careful. Like Stiles will bolt. Like Stiles is fragile, precious, breakable.

He takes Stiles’s hand, unfolding his fingers from the petal.

Green eyes lock onto honey-gold.

“You’re dying because you think I don’t love you?” Derek whispers.

The air punches out of Stiles’s lungs.

“I didn’t think you wanted me,” Stiles admits raggedly. “I didn’t want to make things worse. You’ve already lost too much. I didn’t want to be another problem for you—”

Derek grabs his face.

Not rough—desperate.

“You are not—have never been—a problem,” Derek growls. “You’re the only thing that’s kept me alive.”

Stiles’s throat tightens. “Derek—”

“And you think I don’t want you?” Derek’s voice breaks again. “I—Stiles, you’re—”

Words fail him.

So he acts.

-

Derek pulls Stiles into his lap.

Stiles goes willingly, shaking, breath stuttering.

Derek noses along his throat.

Breathing him in.

Scenting him like claiming territory he waited too damn long to touch.

Stiles is trembling, but not from fear.

Never from fear.

“Tell me to stop,” Derek rasps.

Stiles fists his shirt. “Don’t you dare.”

Derek’s breath hitches. “Mate.”

The word hits Stiles like a lightning strike.

And then Derek sinks his teeth into the junction of Stiles’s neck and shoulder.

Not a violent bite—

a bonding one.

A claiming one.

A soulmate one.

Pain flares bright and gorgeous.

Stiles gasps, clutching at Derek, holding him closer, gasping his name like prayer and surrender at once.

Derek licks the mark soothingly, whispering, “Mine. Mine. Mine,” between breaths.

Stiles’s lungs clear.

The flowers dissolve.

He feels warm. Whole.

Wanted.

Loved.

-

They sit in the Camaro, Stiles still in Derek’s lap, Derek still holding him like he’ll never let go.

“You feel different,” Stiles murmurs.

“You smell like me,” Derek admits, flushing faintly.

Stiles grins. “Hot.”

Derek chokes.

Then—

hesitant, vulnerable, everything Derek hides from the world—

He presses their foreheads together.

“You can stay with me tonight,” Derek whispers. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

Stiles melts against him. “I was waiting for you to ask.”

Derek’s voice goes soft and possessive. “I’ve been waiting for you for years.”

Stiles kisses him.

Slow. Sweet. Hungry.

Derek kisses back like Stiles is oxygen.

The Camaro hums around them.

The forest is quiet.

And Stiles feels, finally, like he’s home.

[mr-dinosaurus]

I love reading fanfics where one character is tagged as jealous, but their partner is unlovable to anyone but them. Like.. calm down, sweetheart, no one wants your man. We're still trying to figure out why you want your man.