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sunnami · 1 month ago

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the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.

summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.

pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.

wc. 4.1k

tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.

cws: brief mention of violence and blood.

note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.

SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.

After Peter Pettigrew’s slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peter’s—or yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brother’s plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? He’d have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.)

He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peter’s body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for death—until the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for you—beholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mind—he could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked him—all of them.

He wanted—

He did not know what he wanted.

For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the deserts—mistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing there—Sirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlife—Sirius could care less. He’d have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks.

Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays.

No, he did not love you—even as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you.

“I didn’t know, Sirius,” you whispered—your voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. “Y-You have to believe me. If I knew—Gods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.”

He thought so, too.

“Did you know?” Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. “That when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had died—you would have been the last thing I saw.”

You had not replied.

Sirius grit his teeth. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Go!” he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strike—but it was him who scared you.

(But you had done so first.)

When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.

It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you.

It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brother—Sirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.)

But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love.

ii.

JAMES POTTER had no love for you—make no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trust—defiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harry—he thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddle’s bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the same—if you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.)

The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive.

But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it.

No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his being—that simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (“Poor thing,” McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the members’ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. “We can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .”)

What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb?

It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you lovelessly—hands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. “I’m sorry.”

It was a plea this time.

He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for it—but he could not love you.

Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love you—but he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (“You need sleep, dear,” the matriarch fussed. “There’s nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.”)

In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. “Wake up,” he demanded.

“Wake up or else you’re the traitor everyone thinks you are,” James hissed.

But his words held no heat—and his heart held no love for you.

Make no mistake about that.

Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parched—a hazy recollection of the weeks before—James made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himself—James had faced him once already, after all—threatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.

(But not to love.)

“We need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not care—he just wanted you safe.

(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brother’s keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his family’s sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, James’s heart and soul had known the truth all along.)

He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfoot’s way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you.

James did not love you.

But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you?

Not. Love.

iii.

REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in him—to wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No.

Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brother’s crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that.

“P-Peter?” you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on you—just as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, they’d wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestranges’ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain.

He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones.

“They. . .” Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? He’d rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. “They’re looking for him at the moment, love.”

One question lingered in your eyes: Why?

Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. “He was a traitor,” he spat like acid. “A traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. He’s no friend of ours. Not anymore.”

But Sirius knew—better than anyone else—how difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once they’ve gone.

“No. . .” You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms.

Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)

“Hush, love,” Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, he’d gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return.

“Don’t cry,” said James, a shadow cast over his frames. “Not for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get what’s coming to him.” He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. “I’ll make sure of it.”

They all would.

But not because they loved you.

It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungo’s could offer—as if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile.

It was the least he could do.

For failing to protect you.

But that was not love.

(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)

iv.

LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered.

And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screaming—Lily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a mother’s love was entirely different from any emotion she’d ever felt before.

This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly crying—screaming, even, every night—red-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at wit’s end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldn’t let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasn’t getting better.

“Lily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,” worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. “We can call for another Healer from Mungo’s to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .”

Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. “Might what, Mrs. Weasley?” She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a mother’s perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peter—then let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you.

She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (“I’m going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said I’d be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I can’t wait to tell Peter that I’ve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungo’s after graduation.”)

And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)

Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight.

“There is no one else I trust more with my life,” replied Lily.

And that was that.

Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side.

“Hello, love,” she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much.

“Is that. . .?” you croaked.

Lily nodded. “Harry, meet—”

One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever.

Lily’s smile wilted. “A friend.”

Later, she would place Harry in your arms—her little hope embraced by her dream—and Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence.

For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?

But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.

(She would die for Harry, yes—but she would live for you.)

YOU did not love them, either.

The very idea, thought—insinuation—was absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friend—how much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, you’d never know.

Because you did not love them.

Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love.

Surely not.

Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lily—for all your history together—called you a friend.

The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common room—there was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawney’s talks of providence and destiny.

Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel?

Falling—not in love—for four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows.

Was love that unkind? That merciless?

Then, you did not want to love at all.

Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish.

You were no different.

You wanted.

Oh, how you yearned.

“I LOVE YOU.”

You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts.

“Quite a random thing to say, husband,” you murmured, leaning into his warmth. “What for?”

“Just because,” he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. “Well, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. “I love you too, quite unfortunately.”

He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home.”

–

“I love you.”

In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and love—James said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him.

And you had loved him fiercely for that.

“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. “Wait for me?”

“Of course,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. “I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you.”

“Are you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?” you teased from where you laid on Remus’s chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remus’s chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice.

“Both,” he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skin—a miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch.

You hummed. “Then, I love you, too.” Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.”

And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remus’s smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.

“My heart, my light, my desire,” Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. “In vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

–

“I love you.”

Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. “But, please, go,” she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. “It’s a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.”

You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,” you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. “Besides, Harry here has something to tell you. He’s made friends at school. One of them is Molly’s little one.”

“Oh, you did?” Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. “That’s lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.”

“That’s not all, Lily mine,” you began mischievously as Harry’s eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. “This friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.”

“You what?” Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread.

“Did you really, Harry?” James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. “Good boy. Father approves.”

“Of course you would,” Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. “And where are you all coming from?”

“Outside,” announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. “Sirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things that’ll make you feel better, Lily love.”

And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.

You loved them.

And they loved you.

a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!

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fuckyeahteamrocket · 1 year ago

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俺得四天王 | きりとひより

ﾎﾟｹ映画の悪役がことごとく好きなんですけども､その中でも特に愛！な！４人！あんたらみんな髪型おかしいよ！好き！◆ウホッコメントありがとうございます！

#grings kodai #lawrence iii #marcus #Iron-Masked Marauder #fanart #2010-2015 #anime series #pixiv

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ellecdc · 1 month ago

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Baby…my love…my obsession. While you’re working hockey!marauders I would die for enforcer!sirius black. Even just a little blurb 😌😌😌

I will never say no to a hockey au, I won't lie.

hockey player!Sirius Black x team medic!reader who is not at all pleased with Sirius' theatrics /sarcasm [859 words]

CW: gn!reader, hockey fight, swearing, blood, flirting/banter

Sirius was on his feet before Krum even hit the ice, and he was shouting (and cursing) by the time Krum looked towards the referee as if saying ‘did you not see that?’ as he fixed his goalie mask and reached for the stick that was knocked clean out of his hands.

“Fucking interference! That was interference!”

“I know Black, I saw it too.” Coach grumbled from behind him; sounding far calmer than his most violent defenceman though he was staring daggers at the linesman currently skating away from his goalie that was just slammed into in his own crease.

“Let me out.” Sirius barked as he kept his eye on the player - number seven - who dared to touch his goalie. “Come on! Let me out!”

“Wait your turn, Black.” Coach barked back as the play continued.

Fenwick raised his glove requesting to switch as Dearborn followed him toward the bench.

“Alright, Black & Potter, you’re on.”

Sirius had hardly waited for Fenwick to make it to the bench before he was clearing the boards, hearing James’ skates seconds behind him as they moved towards the play.

Sirius hardly spared the puck a second glance as he made it to the other end of the rink, dropped his gloves and launched himself at the fucker who had checked his goalie moments before.

He had the bastard's jersey tight in his fist as he swung his other into the side of his face. He’d landed one good punch before the Slytherin player clued into what was happening and then it was fair game.

Sirius could hear the whistle of the referees as other players paired off with one another to keep them from joining the tussle. It was a riot of noise from the crowd as bells and horns sounded and fans banged on the glass lining the boards as Sirius and his opponent focused both on staying upright in their skates and knocking the other over simultaneously.

Sirius’ helmet fell off with an elbow to his mouth that left his eyes watering, but he quickly had number seven in a headlock as the player fell back, Sirius landing on top of him and landing one more hit before the refs were pulling them off of each other.

Sirius got two minutes for roughing, but so did number seven, so he felt it was rather worth it as he used one of the gatorade branded towels to clean the blood from his lips in the penalty box.

His fight seemed to inspire a goal from his team, so he then felt it was very much worth it when the two minutes were up and he left the box to go back to the bench.

“Did ya like my fight, doc?” He asked you breathlessly as if he hadn’t just been sitting in a glorified time-out for the last 120 seconds; his wide, beaming smile only serving to further split his lip as his teeth started to taste like iron.

“For fucks sake, Black.” You muttered as you pulled out an alcohol wipe and dabbed at the cut on his lip; Sirius couldn’t even find it in him to wince at the sting of the alcohol when you were cradling his jaw with your free hand as though you were handling a baby bird; gentle, tentative, loving.

Maybe he was making that last one up, but he felt emboldened by the ghost of a smirk gracing your lips.

“Always making more work for you, eh doc?” Remus teased from behind you; you rolled your eyes but didn’t bother gracing Remus with an answer as you leaned behind you to grab something.

“Maybe I just wanted you to kiss it better, yeah?” He asked when you turned back towards him. You seemed startled at first; not in a negative way, but rather like you hadn’t expected Sirius Black to be loudly and brazenly flirting with you. You schooled your expression quickly, however, when you narrowed your eyes at him playfully and slapped an ice pack in his glove-free hand.

“Ice it, Black.” You ordered.

“Good idea, gorgeous.” Sirius agreed as he did what was told, turning back towards the game. “Wanna make sure my lips are perfect for our first kiss.”

“Wait, don’t ice it! Some people pay big money for lips like that, Black!” Wood called from further down the bench.

Sirius pretended to consider it as he squinted his eyes at you, watching as you worked particularly hard to not return his gaze. “No, no. If I ice it now, I’ll be in tip top shape for kissing after the game.”

“You’re unbelievable.” You muttered as you watched Caradoc nearly toss a Slytherin player onto the Gryffindor bench, your tongue in your cheek as you tried not to smile at Sirius.

“Thank you!” He accepted readily as the whistle blew - the lines were about to change.

“Try not to get into any more scraps, yeah?” You called to Sirius as he dropped the ice pack into your awaiting hand and lunged over the bench.

“For you, doc?” Sirius volleyed with a cheeky smirk as he skated backwards toward the face off. “Anything.”

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wingedhallows · 10 months ago

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you don't know shit ; the marauders

pairing: the marauders (+ lily x reader ; platonic ) | 1.6k words plot: Things had changed over the summer, you had changed. Why didn't you speak to them & why did you look more dead than alive? prompt: “you don’t know shit about what happened to me.” authors note: i just love angsty shit :)

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Spending the summer at home was hard, horrible even. All your friends decided to spend their summer together, at James Potter's house. You couldn’t join, not when your parents were fanatic purebloods with a grip so hard it bruised, literally.

Sirius had managed to run away, to flee from his parents' iron grip. You admired him for his bravery, but in all honesty, you were a coward, right?

Did enduring it all, pushing through every insult and curse make you strong or weak? You didn’t quite know. The train came to a halt, the whistle reminding every student to get off.

You had avoided them, your friends. You’d usually walk past the Hufflepuffs to the wagon the Gryffindors inhapitated but this year you didn’t. The Slytherin wagon seemed more comfortable, quieter than their wagon. Just to avoid their questions, their worry.

With your bag around your shoulder you exited the train, a heavy feeling on your chest. You could feel it, the way they stared at you.

You looked him in the eyes, Sirius. No smile graced your face this year, there was just nothing to smile about. Your mother had made sure that you’d remember that.

“Y/N, where were yo-” he stopped talking as you walked past them, not giving them the time of day.

“What the fuck.” You heard Sirius say as James rushed after you. “Hey, Y/N.” He caught your shoulder, a confused look on his face.

“Didn’t you see-”I did.” You paused before turning around. “Let go of me, Potter.” You spat, the cold look on your face was painful. You wanted nothing more than to jump into their arms, to give them the warm smiles they deserved.

You ripped your shoulder out of his grip and stalked off, tears threatening to spill. You were sorry, so sorry it hurt.

“Y/N!” Remus yelled after you, but you were too far ahead, thankfully. You would’ve turned around otherwise.

Breakfast the next day was weird, you sat at your house’s table, the Slytherins. Nobody talked to you, you had sat at the Gryffindor table the past six years for all they knew.

The boys stared your way, watched how you didn’t eat. The way your eyes looked lifeless and you hadn’t touched your cup once.

It made them sick.

“She’s not eating.” Sirius said, bread in his hand. James leaned over looking over the heads of his friends.

“Is she even breathing?” he paused, taking a sip from his cup.

“She looks dead.” Lily sighed, her head whipped around to look at you.

“She’s skinnier. What did they do to her?” Remus looked over his shoulder as well, the sight of you, how broken you seemed hurt him. It was devastating to see you like this.

The food made you sick and without another thought you stood, determined to get away from it, from them.

Their eyes were on you, you could feel it. Your eyes found James’, against your will because the look in his hurt more than the crucio curse your mother had sent your way when you arrived back home this summer.

Your heart began to pound as you caught a glimpse of them making their way over to you. Your feet began to walk faster, to get away. “Y/N!” You could hear Lily but you didn’t stop walking. You cut the corner, your shoulder almost hitting the brick wall in the process. "Y/N!" Stop!” Sirius's loud voice stopped you in your tracks, your breath hitched as your eyes widened.

“Just, stop.” he spoke quieter, a hand already on your shoulder. You took a breath, eyes closing in defeat before you turned around, face in the cold mask you were just so familiar with.

“What?” you spoke, voice almost too quiet to hear. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you.

“What the fuck do you mean, what?”

You looked away, anywhere but his face. “Did you need anything?” A sigh escaped you and James pushed forwards.

“Are you kidding me? You’ve been avoiding us like the plague since we came back.” You crossed your arms and nodded.

“What is wrong?” Remus said, a hand outstretched to grab your arm, you flinched away. “Nothing.”

Sirius scoffed. “You can’t fool us.” he shook his head.

“Something happened to you back home, tell us.” he tried. A cuckle escaped you, face in a frown.

“You don’t know shit about what happened to me.”

Lily took a step toward you, your herbology book in hand. You took it without saying anything. “How could we, you won’t talk to us.”

“I’m busy.” You paused and took a step back.

“Astronomy Tower, 8pm.” Was all you gave them before you took off. Lily tried to reach for you but you were too fast.

There they stood, 8 pm sharp. “She’s not coming.” Moony spoke, elbows on the railing. Lily sighed and sat down next to Sirius who had just lit his next fag. “Just wait.” He spoke, breathing out the smoke. “It’s not been five minutes yet.” He said, shoulder leant on the brick wall behind him.

The door squeaked and their heads whipped around, you could feel their stares. With a smooth movement, you swooped your own pack of cigarettes from your pocket. Sirius had sprung to his feet, his lighter almost lit. You were faster and lit the stick on your own. “I got it.” you almost whispered before he retreated with a frown on his face.

“So, you gon’ talk now?” James threw your way, impatiently. “God, James.” Lily spat and stood next to you.

“What? It’s the truth, she’s been avoiding us, not wanting to be around us. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you.” He directed towards you, you sighed and took another drag of your cigarette.

“I will.” You said as you pushed your hand through your hair, desperately begging your heart to stop pounding.

You reached for your wand which was tucked in your right boot and took a breath before you called off the concealment charm and within a second the atmosphere on top of the astronomy tower changed.

Your friends now saw what you saw every day.

What the mirror showed you every time your laid your eyes upon it.

The scars of the objects your mother had sent your way in a fit of anger, the bruises of charms and hexes your father had used when you spoke back and the twitch of your eye, your lips of the many crucio curses you had to endure when you defended your friends.

“Oh my god.” Remus whispered, you took another drag of your cigarette. Your left eye still stung, it was probably blue too. You lifted your head, now looking at them.

“That’s why I couldn't talk to you.” You stomped on the done cigarette and sighed.

“I’m not as brave as you, Sirius.” Tears stung at your eyes, your chest tight.

“My parents are just like yours, selfish, hateful, awful people.” You paused and turned around, staring down the tower. The view was as beautiful as it had been the first time you looked down it. Absolutely breathtaking.

“I can’t seem to leave them, though.” Lily’s hand was on your shoulder now. “I’m too weak.” You let the tears fall, your clammy cold hands wiped at your nose.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.” Sirius spoke, no next to you, his elbow rested on the railing as well. “For all I know, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”

You stared at him now, your eye twitched again. You could feel it now, the pain, all over again.

“I’m not-”To take all of that, whatever your parents did to you and still stand here.” Lily’s hand rubbed your back as you tried to hold back the sob.

“You’re not at all weak, Y/N.”

Remus stood next to Sirius, his elbow on his friend's shoulder. A sad smile formed on his lips as he wiped the tears.

“We’ll take care of those.” He waved at the scars. “I’ve had my fare share of those myself.” he tried, a weak chuckle escaped your lips. An attempt to lighten the mood.

“There she is.” James grinned. “A smile suits you better.” You punched his shoulder softly and he chuckled at you.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” Lily waved you off, an arm now around your shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, love.” Sirius threw in.

“You’re not going back there, though. I hope you know that.” Sirius spoke.

“You could stay with us, I’m sure mom wouldn’t mind now that Pads is stayin’ with us anyway.” James smiled at you and you tried to give him a small smile yourself.

“Or with us, I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind if I explained.” Lily spoke as she rubbed your shoulder.

“You’re not alone in this.” Remus spoke, a hand on your cheek to wipe the tears.

“We hold together, no matter what.” Sirius said, a hand stroked your hair as he gave you a small smile.

“I love you, all of you.” You spoke, a new fag in your mouth now.

“You’re more than friends” You paused and lit the stick.

“You’re my family.”

James barked out a laugh and took a sip from the bottle he brought up here.

“To family then.” You chuckled and nodded. “To family, cause my own sucks.” Sirius nodded and took a drag from his fag as well.

“This family only.”

#the marauders #marauders imagine #marauders era #harry potter angst #harry potter fanfic #sirius black #sirius black angst #sirius black x reader #harrypotter #hp fanfic #the marauders angst #remus lupin #lily evans #james potter #the marauders x reader #the marauders x y/n #the marauders x you #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic

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lupiinist · 3 months ago

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i've been on a bit of a dc brainrot for a while, but i also have the non-binary urge to make everything about the marauders, so here i'll be leaving my marauders x dc headcanons

regulus is batman. no, i won't hear anything about it. he didn't lose his parents tho, he lost his brother (sirius' alive, he just doesn't know it yet, lazarus pit, yada yada yada), he grew up with his buttler (not sure if it would be kreacher?) and ends up becoming the dark knight (rich, moved by vengeance, out for blood, but no killing)

james is superman, and i doubt anyone can argue with this one. (look at that man's big brown doe eyes and tell he wouldn't be the biggest superman fan). he was raised by effie and monty, but is the same old kryptonian we know. he rescues kittens on threes, shoots lasers from his eyes and is a big old softie

lily is lois lane. this woman has pulitzers and can change an entire country's point of view about something with 1 (one) column on the planet. she could be the president. she's beautiful. she's smart.

(also, this could be both a clois or superbat situation, doesn't really matter)

remus is jimmy olsen! tired alien bestie, likes to take pictures, wonders how no one else caught on that james is superman because that man can't lie to save his life??? he doesn't even look that different without his glasses??????

back to gotham, narcissa would be batwoman (reg's cousin, full of rage, wearing a bat mask to punch people on the streets? besides, BUFF NARCISSA? yes, please), dating her lovely future wife detective fortescue (alice is montoya, yes), i think she would still be married as narcissa for a while (she Will dump lucius' ass) and go out with alice as batwoman

on the other hand, bellatrix is absolutely harley, i don't think there's even another option? and yes, tom riddle is the joker (ironic for someone called riddle, i know), but who cares about him, honestly?

anyway, rita skeeter is poison ivy!

barty is catwoman, this man steals from the rich people, pisses off his father (crouch sr. would be gordon in this), and gets to flirt with big scary batman (he finds regulus so hot it's a bit pathetic)

pandora is babs, batgirl and future oracle, and i don't know if evan would be the first robin? the timeline in my head couldn't find a kid to be the first robin besides like, nymphadora, but i think circus evan and pandora who lost their parents, and one joined batman while the other became a cop is sort of nice?

on the robin situation, draco is jason todd (it gets progressively more angst the more you think about it), future red hood, and harry would be conner (yes, i know, 'why isn't harry jon?' because i don't want him to be :])

luna would be tim drake. she would one hundred percent manipulate regulus into letting her become robin after the previous robin's death, and she has what it takes to be both a genius and the next ceo of reggie's company. she's just that good.

and last but not least, my favorite ladies:

marlene mckinnon as supergirl, and dorcas meadowes as lena luthor. they hate each other. they find each other hot af. they pin after each other. why aren't they together yet???????

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deathnguts · 2 months ago

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What I think marauders era peeps smell like:

Regulus: green apple, mint, black tea, ink, rain but specifically that which falls during a thunderstorm

Barty: axe cologne (loser) and cigarettes drowning out all else, but patchouli and lime if you catch him at the right time and you’re close enough

Evan: sandalwood, vetiver, iron, some stupid expensive cologne that smells distinctly clean overall like latex almost

Pandora: burnt sage, jasmine tea, moss, ginger, dandelions, boiled lemongrass

Dorcas: bluebells scented perfume, vanilla, blackberry, castor oil

Lily: strawberry shortcake perfume, daffodils, cardamom, white sand

James: cinnamon, leather, cedarwood

Sirius: bergamot, pine, amaretto, small hints of coffee

Remus: bitter dark chocolate, firewood, old paper, but a rusty twinge overall

Peter: eucalyptus oil, oat milk, lychee

Marlene: old spice deodorant, orange, sea salt

Mary: Apple blossom perfume, coconut, nutmeg, amber

Alice: rosemary, lily of the valley flowers, cloves, wind through the forest

Frank: mechanic oil, sesame, freshly cut wood, sheep wool

Sybill: lavender, morning dew, pollen, dust, labdanum

Narcissa: green tea, yellow roses, lemon zest

Lucius: narcissus flowers, cucumber, agarwood cologne that masks it all

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mewtwoandme · 5 months ago

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The Scizor and Sneazle... Iron Mask Marauder's Pokémon from the 4th movie? 🤔

They're not the same ones. It was actually unintentional using the same pair of pokemon, and I realized too late that it was the same duo in the Celebi movie. Not that I'm mad about it though, they're cool lol

#answered ask #sparksnyper

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jadeazora · 2 months ago

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Honestly tho, Spinel's probably the best anime-original villain Pokémon's had. (Not counting the TRio, they're more comedic than they are a threat.) Most of the myriad poachers we've had over the years were pretty forgettable barring J, and she was more "overwhelming power and cool tech" than she was a schemer. (And her petrification gauntlet isn't even unique anymore thanks to that one dude from MPM) and most of the unique Team Rocket characters we've had were only around for a couple episodes, not really leaving time to get much of an impression from them.

There's a few good movie villains like Mewtwo and Molly, but they're more sympathetic rather than evil. Mewtwo is angered over being treated as someone's experiment and is trying to carve a place for himself in the world, and Molly is a kid who lost her family. But with the other evil movie villains like Kodai, Alva, the Iron-Masked Marauder, and Dr. Zed, we run into a similar problem of not being around long enough and it's mostly their tech over their intelligence that makes them as big a threat as they are. (I feel Alva was probably the smartest one? He was manipulating the prince, but it's an adult to a child. I feel Zed topped him in evil tho, since he successfully murdered two people-- I'm still pretty sure this is our first case of human-on-human murder in the anime--and thought he got away with killing an ACTUAL INFANT. When I first saw that, I was pretty shocked.)

With Spinel, every setback is a learning experience, and several of them weren't even things he could have anticipated, like Terapagos's pendant exploding out of his hand.

He's a pretty solid tactician tho, using his Magneton for interference with the Brave Olivine's systems and the RVT's phones, baiting Liko to come off alone and then mind-wiping her, ordering his Pokemon to attack from remotely so the group never sees his face (at least until he can't really hide anymore with the pendant going haywire), disseminating false information across the net to throw the RVT off the right trail, luring Friede into a trap because what are a couple kids gonna do in stopping them from getting Rayquaza (it was really more failure on the end of the other Explorers, he had successfully stalled Friede long enough at that point), and there's now his recent thing with getting Amethio expelled from the Explorers by framing him. (As a contingency plan in case his murder attempt against the kid failed.)

It's clear he's got his own agenda, and I'm curious to see what he's got in store for us now that one of Gibeon's most loyal pawns is gone, and now that Spinel is in Gibeon's ear 👀

#pokemon horizons #pokeani #anipoke #pokemon spinel #pokemon explorers #pokemon villains

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the-shadowbane-fiction · 2 years ago

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The Shadowbane - an interactive fiction WIP

The Shadowbane was a hero of Tavaria during its founding days. According to historians, it was them who faced the first incursion of Shades and won. They banished the Shades back behind the veils, a magical barrier separating the land of mortalkind and the northern waste. This singular action gave Tavarians a long respite to rebuild and prosper. However, the happy days ended when an unknown source of magical power breached the veil, releasing the vile creatures from the captivity. Tavaria, struck unprepared, suffered defeats after defeats, its fair lands ravaged and its king perished in battles. In a desperate attempt to fight back, the Shadowbane was resurrected.

Or so they thought. For when you woke up, you could not remember anything.

In this game, you can:

Save the Kingdom of Tavaria by banishing the Shades. Or join the foes to destroy everything.

Find out who you really are.

Uncover the secrets behind the Shades. Where did they come from? Who made them?

Romance or build friendship with any of the 7 possible companions. You will get to experience an exclusive route with them after the end of the common route.

Gather your party and venture forth!

1. Ser Wymond

Ser Wymond is the younger brother of the late king of Tavaria. He is loyal and steadfast, with his whole heart devoted to the restoration of his beloved country. Mallaidh, the sky witch who travels with you, claims that he is stubborn and inflexible as a bull, but that is probably because the pair never sees eye to eye. As the other heir of the royal line, he takes his duty seriously, but he often doubts his ability to lead, considering he has always followed his brother’s command.

He is a man in late thirties with the distinctive Tavarian royal features. His hair, eyes and skin are pale, with a prominent nose and a sharp cheeks. There are streaks of silver in his hair and lines around his eyes, but his hold of shield remains steady, and his skill of sward play is unmatched among his peers.

2. Princess Kaelyn

Princess Kaelyn is the only daughter of the late king of Tavaria. After her father’s fatal defeat at the hands of Shades and Marauders, she gathered what was left of his army and marched south to recover. However, her quest to seek aid in Shairia has met with different levels of jeers and dismissals, for a monarch without a Kingdom holds no sway in the eyes of Southern Lords.

It does not help that she appears quite unconventional in their eyes. Tall and pale with an iron mask always fastened on top of her face, the Princess earned her moniker “The Iron Maiden” with her harsh and aloof personality. Nobles of southern origins snicker at her mask behind her back, claiming that she must be disfigured to wear it all the time.

3. Arvid the Shapeshifter

Arvid was a spy of the Marauders. He defected to your side to save his own skin, but that earns him no love from the Tavarians. Only Mallaidh finds him intriguing, but her interest is purely academic. His ability to shapeshift into a nightingale is useful as a scout, but like the bird, Arvid lacks courage to actually excel at the role.

When he arrives at Shairia, he is instantly entranced by the culture of merry-making. He likes to disguise himself as a Shairian, and it would work if not for his distinctive northern features. He is gangly with a long nose and a narrow chin, a mop of wild brown curls and a pair of bright blue eyes. His voice is lovely, however, and that earns him some affection among the Shairian folks.

4. Mallaidh, the Lumian Sorceress

Mallaidh is one of the mysterious Lumians - the first creation of the sun-god Bael. She is a formidable witch wielding Light Magic, and an exceptional healing should the situation calls for it. Wymond distrusts her, not because of her intentions but due to her methods. To him, her ways seem overly cruel, but Mallaidh simply considers them effective ways to end the threats of Shades once and for all.

You learned that she is the only ever ventured out for so long. Like her sisters, she is created to appear beautiful in the eyes of men, with a face that rivals art itself, and a thick pelt of shimmering golden feathers covering the top of her head and the end of her limbs. Unlike men, she has talons instead of hands, and they prove to be an effective weapon should she need to defend herself.

5. Scribe Seraphinus

Scribe Seraphinus seems to stand out from the fair-headed, pale-skinned northmen, with his olive skin and raven-black hair. Indeed, he is a man of eastern origin, a former slave in the Azure Empire. Princess Kaelyn found him in a flesh market, and freed the man once she knew Seraphinus speaks at least sixteen different tongues. Seraphinus, grateful for the rescue, pledged his service to the princess. He serves as a guide when she stays in Shairia.

Seraphinus is reserved and elusive, but he can be quite passionate when talking about knowledge of any kind. True to his nature, he has taken up the task of scourging for your origin. The place he stayed is rather dusty, but the man does not seem to mind. He even has a small magical workshop set up inside, where he studies magic systematically. To him, magic is learned, unlike Mallaidh who is born with the innate talent to master it.

6. Caitrín of Aramore

Caitrín is the mythical companion of the Shadowbane. She is said to be a fearsome warrior maiden, towering over both the champion and the first king of Tavaria. According to a popular Shairian ballad, she was in love with the champion, although they never reciprocated it. In the end, she was heartbroken when the hero perished in the final act of sacrifice. There is no records of her afterwards, but the ballad suggested that she was no mortal, and was merely hiding deep in the mountains near the Everpeak, mourning for her long-lost heart’s desire.

If the ballad is telling the truth, Caitrín was a woman with silky black hair and lovely hazel eyes. She protected the champion in many occasions, placing herself between them and danger. The steadfast loyalty she displayed never failed to move the more romantic audience to tears.

7. ???

You are not sure what they are, but you get the sense that they are a being as ancient as the sun-god Bael. Mysterious and formless, they seem to come to your defense at your most precarious moment, without asking anything in return. You are unsure if you should trust them, despite their proclamation that they have no ulterior motives.

Forum thread to report bugs/provide feedback: Link

Note that since it is still in early stages, I plan to implement the save feature once the common routes are completed.

Currently it’s about 2 chapters done, and I plan on updating every 4 weeks.

Cover image is by my roommate Jo, and they are planning to draw some of the characters as well!

#interactive fiction #if #the shadowbane #hosted gamed wip #wip

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