#remus my man fr | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ellecdc · 8 months ago

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the poly!marauders and lily x shy!reader!!!!! I genuinely cannot handle how much I love it omg🫠🫠 would u be willing to make it a series??

maybe remus being overprotective/possessive of her before the full moon and she’s just like ???? bc she doesn’t know about his furry problem🫣 but the rest of the group are just really casual about the way he’s acting like “oh yeah he does this sometimes, just ignore it” and r is just like 🤔?? bc he literally won’t let her go and wants her by his side and lap all day!!

aaaaaah my mind got carried away after reading ur amazing fic🩷🩷

so. stinkin. cute (thoughts and prayers for our shy!reader fr)

poly!marauders + lily x shy!reader close to Remus' time of the month

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5

CW: love bite/hickies, man-handling Remus [ik, ik]

You had been…seeing the boys and Lily for long enough now to have noticed a few peculiarities.

Black envelopes with green wax melts on the front that were delivered to Sirius were always confiscated immediately by Lily. Following the envelope's arrival, the rest of the group tended to fawn over Sirius for the rest of the day.

James was incredibly bright as a student in all subjects except Ancient Runes; prior to any quizzes or assignments, the group would play a game of “question pong” which was a twist on the muggle game ‘beer pong’ where cups were lined up and James would aim a ping pong ball and have to answer a question that was placed inside the cup that he had scored in. This amount of effort wasn’t placed into any of the others’ studies.

And what was obviously something the boys were ultimately accustomed to doing for Lily now extended to you when you couldn’t help but notice that at least one of them always escorted you to any of your classes in the dungeons.

Another peculiarity, however, seemed to centre around Remus.

Once a month, the group got a bit…sketchy before the three boys would disappear for about a day and then return basically back to normal.

Lily seemed to be accepting of these occurrences, so you opted not to concern yourself with it either; if it was something you needed to know, they’d tell you.

Right?

Because, you see, the sketchiness wasn’t just limited to their comings and goings; but rather Remus himself.

He was a tactile person, that much you knew to be true. He almost always had a hand on one of his partners, a boyfriend or a girlfriend in his lap, or an arm around someone’s shoulders.

And yes, you’d been growing increasingly accustomed to the affection.

But it seemed to you that around these bouts of…sketchiness, the affection seemed to grow into something rather possessive.

For example; it became clear to you that out of the three boys, James and Sirius were the ones who had a particular problem with Severus Snape, but during said period of said sketchiness, Remus nearly growled when he saw Lily and Snape discussing the upcoming Potions exam before he latched himself onto Lily’s side until Severus finally left.

And then at the quidditch game against Ravenclaw, a group of girls behind you, Lily, and Remus were giggling over how ‘fit the Gryffindor captain was’ which led to Remus standing abruptly, moving to lean against the railing of the Gryffindor stands to wave James over before he pressed a searing kiss to the chasers lips leaving them both rather breathless.

And then there was the party in the Ravenclaw common room for Benjy Fenwicks birthday where you, Lily, and Remus had been sitting watching James and Sirius dance with Marlene and Mary before Gilderoy Lockhart slid up behind Sirius in an attempt to dance with him. Sirius hardly had a chance to react before Remus was on the dancefloor and pulling his boyfriend into him, slotting their hips together and swaying sinfully to the beat all while maintaining eye contact with Gilderoy.

It seems important to note that Remus doesn’t dance.

All this to say, Remus got…sketchy.

But all of this had nothing on how he seemed to become around you.

You weren’t sure what caused the difference; perhaps it was because you were new to the group, perhaps it was because you were shy, or perhaps it was because he was more confident in his and the others’ roles within the dynamic. Either way, you were certain you were simply going to combust from the sheer amount of attention being devoted to you by your quietest boy.

You could hardly breathe or blink without him noticing, it seemed. And if you were within his vicinity, you were in his arms or on his lap.

Like right now…

You’d no sooner entered the Great Hall when you spotted Lily’s fiery red hair and made for the group before you were being man-handled to sit on the bench between his thighs.

“You almost missed breakfast, dove.” He offered quietly as he started preparing a plate for you right in front of your eyes.

“Jeez Moony, whatever happened to good morning.” Sirius teased as he shot you a wink.

“Morning angel.” James offered quickly as Lily smiled softly at you.

“Oh, hi! I..uhm, I’m not that hungry, Rem.” You tried, but it was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Remus’ movements hardly faltered as he continued buttering an english muffin for you, but everyone else seemed to freeze in their movements as they watched the two of you with bated breaths.

“Breakfast is important.” He said simply.

And believing he was quite close to actually hand feeding you the english muffin, you simply took it from his hands and shrunk into his chest at the attention.

You felt your heart leap both in affection and embarrassment as you felt him press his lips to your neck as you ate, looking to the other three in hopes of help or explanation, of which you received neither.

“I was wondering if you wanted to have a sleepover with me tonight?” Lily asked you as she sipped from her tea.

“Oh, I uhm…sure, that’d be nice. Is everyone going to be there?”

Remus kept his face pressed to your neck but the others shared a glance.

“No, we have a Marauders thing to attend to tonight, sweetness. Can we call dibs for the weekend?” Sirius offered, but his attempt was quickly shot down by Remus.

“Tomorrow.” He muttered from your neck as you fought the urge to shiver at the tickle of his breath.

“What about the night after that?” Lily tried again.

You let out a surprised (and perhaps nervous) squeak when Remus’ embrace tightened around your middle.

“Tomorrow.”

“Moons…” James tried, which finally got Remus’ face out from your neck in order to glare at his boyfriend.

“Tomorrow will be fine.” He proclaimed with an air of finality before he shoved his face unceremoniously back into your neck and latched his mouth to your jugular, eliciting another surprised yelp from your lips.

“How’s that for a good morning, Y/N?” Sirius asked with a wink.

You spent the rest of your breakfast wondering if this was your own personal heaven or your own personal hell.

Jury was still out by the time you left the Great Hall with a love bite displayed above the collar of your uniform.

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onyxstyx · 7 days ago

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ʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅ | emperor geta

pairing: emperor geta x fem!reader

summary: the fates spin the thread of destiny, and mortals have no choice but to follow its path. you have other plans.

➺‘the fates, who give men at their birth both evil and good to have, and they pursue the transgressions of men and gods… until they punish the sinner with a sore penalty’ - theogony, hesiod ➺‘whatever happens to you has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time’ - marcus aurelius

A/N: i watched gladiator ii, devoured all the geta fics i could find (ty writers for feeding me <3) and i’m still ravenous. the man is gnawing at me from my insides so i had no choice but to get typing. haven’t written for like a yr so bear with me. if this flops it never happened xx

warnings: mention of miscarriage (not reader's), period-typical misogyny, morally ambiguous reader bc she’s fighting for her life out here. she’s just a girl fr :( YOU try being a girlie in ancient rome :/ enjoy !!

w/c: 5.9k

latin translations: fatum - fate, carissima - dear, domina - my lady

As the moon ascends in wake of the sun’s descent, the gilded walls of the imperial palace glint softly in the moonlight. Glorious tapestries line these walls, each one telling the tale of hallowed heroes, of terrible tyrants and of revered rulers. The history of the Roman Empire.

Their patterns, depicting stories of both rise and ruin, are woven by none other than the three Fates. One Fate spins the thread, and an heir is born. Another Fate weaves it, and a battle is won. The last Fate cuts, and an emperor meets his end.

As three pairs of hands work nimbly in the heavens, another tapestry begets itself in the mortal realm, where our story takes place.

From a tender age, you had been taught to believe in fate.

Fatum.

You had first learnt the word as a little one.

You’d been a curious creature, like most children are. Sheltered from the terrors of the world, your appetite for life was insatiable. You’d wake up with a hunger for new knowledge about the world around you, and go to bed still hungry for more, no matter what had transpired during the day. Thus, you found it impossible to go to sleep of your own accord - you relied on your mother’s bedtime stories to satisfy your appetite, and lull you into slumber.

Perched by your bedside with a gentle hand stroking your hair, she regaled you with the tale of Rome’s beginnings. A tale of abandonment, wolf-mothers and fratricide. Enough thrill to tire you out, she hoped. To her chagrin, she looked down to find widened eyes, without a trace of sleep in them, staring up at her expectantly. Instead, your eyes shone bright with the excitement of unanswered questions.

She sighed fondly before prompting you to talk. “Yes, carissima?”

And so the floodgates opened. You fired her with questions with all the sternness of a Roman general, and she listened intently with all the patience of a loving mother.

Why did the king try to kill the babies? Why didn’t the wolf eat the babies?

And finally, taking great care to be gentle, you placed a tiny hand on her rounded belly and asked the most burning question. Why did Romulus kill his brother? Your innocent mind struggled to comprehend it. You hadn’t even met your little sibling yet, and you already couldn’t fathom the idea of bringing harm to him. Or her, you thought, but your father had insisted that all refer to the babe as the male heir he so desperately desired it to be.

“Fatum,” was the simple answer she supplied. “Without the king’s cruelty, without the wolf’s mercy, without Remus’ death, our great city would never have been built.”

Eyes shining with knowledge yet untold, her gaze held yours. “Whatever happens to you, has been waiting to happen since the beginning of time,” she quoted, a tone of finality in her voice.

As well-loved children do, you’d lapped up your mother’s answer as readily as the twin babes lapped the wolf’s milk.

You had first witnessed fatum some years later, at the age of twelve.

On the brink of adolescence, much about you had changed compared to the little girl having bedtime stories told to her. Much except one. Age hadn’t quelled your curiosity - if anything, it had grown.

You’d exhausted all the resources available to a girl of your standing. You’d read enough philosophical texts to debate with Aristotle himself, asked questions faster than your tutors could find answers and yet, you knew there was much more that the world had to offer. So, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

With age had also come a newfound deviance. Observant as you were, you’d learned that there was much to be gained with certain types of information - if you knew how to use it to your advantage.

As such, you’d taken to eavesdropping on your father’s meetings with his fellow senators from behind a pillar. For weeks on end, they had spoken of a play becoming popular amongst patricians and plebeians alike. Oedipus.

At the centre of their discussion was a ploy to ban the play from being performed. Abhorrent, they had called it. A threat to their authority, if the people are led to believe that even kings are subject to a thing as fickle as fate. At that statement, your eyes twinkled with mischief and a devious smile found its way to your face - you were determined to see this for yourself.

So, on the fateful night you caught your older cousin in the arms of a man bearing no resemblance to her betrothed, you knew you’d struck gold.

Desperate to protect her reputation and far too embarrassed to berate you for sleuthing around when you should have been asleep, she’d hastily agreed to the terms of your silence. She would sneak you into the city’s amphitheatre to watch the next production of Oedipus, if you swore to secrecy.

And so your plan commenced. Hidden under the large folds of her toga, you observed the story unfolding before you. The mighty king of Thebes brought to his knees by the tragic fate he’d tried to escape, to no avail.

A real spectacle, the performance elicited emotions from you that were both old and new. In a short two hours you’d been perplexed, horrified, scandalised. You’d learned quickly why you had to be sneaked in - fate wasn’t the only mature theme you were educated on that night.

But you only came to understand fatum when it took the person dearest to you, two summers ago.

Pregnant again, the fifth time that you could remember, your mother had taken ill. Perilously ill. After years of unsuccessful attempts to produce an heir - one daughter, two miscarriages and two stillbirths - she had breathed her last. In her womb? The son your father demanded of her. The son he had longed for. Prayed to the gods for. What else could bring forth such a tragic end, if not the hands of the Fates?

Now a grown woman, the beliefs your mother had impressed upon you would soon be tested. Left with no living sons to continue his legacy and no living wife to bring forth such living sons, your father’s lofty political aspirations could only be fulfilled through his daughter. You.

Your father wasted no time in advancing his plans.

After a long day spent praying at the temple of Pluto, you had been ready to wind down and relax. A good distance away from the centre of the city and situated atop a number of hills, a trip there takes up the whole day. You had set out at dawn, and as the sun set over the Tiber river to bring forth dusk, your shadow darkened the entrance of your family villa.

Exhausted both emotionally and physically, your body went through the motions of preparing yourself for supper, but your mind remained absent - occupied with thoughts of what could have been and what will never be.

After your bath you called for your maid and allowed her to dress you, head still in the clouds. It was only when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bronze mirror atop your vanity that you noticed something was amiss.

Your eyes squinted as you inspected the image reflected on the polished surface.

“Why have you dressed me in these garments? I wish to wear my usual attire.”

You wore a tunic, the draped garment secured by an ornate brooch resembling an owl, with eyes made of precious gems. Nothing out of the ordinary.

What was out of the ordinary, was the saffron yellow hue of the tunic — since your mother’s passing you had been in mourning and thus only wore dark colours. A fact well-known by your maid, who dressed you day and night.

The hands fastening the brooch faltered as she gathered a response.

“My apologies, Domina.” She stepped back, head bowed in deference. “I assumed you would revert to your previous wardrobe, seeing as yesterday marked the end of…” She trailed off meekly, allowing you to fill in the blanks.

The previous day had marked a year since your mother’s passing, and thus the end of the customary mourning period. As such, it would be socially acceptable for you to appear happy and content again, reflected in the abandonment of deep plums and drab greys for sunny yellows and bold blues. You supposed it was not odd for her to assume you desire to don brighter colours.

But upon closer inspection, your suspicion rose again. Detailed with beautiful patterns and made of the smoothest damask money could buy, the tunic was much too elaborate for a simple family dinner in the villa. The last time you wore it was to a relative’s wedding, where your father made a point of telling anyone who would listen just how much it had cost to import the material from China.

You poised yourself to question her further, but the words died on the tip of your tongue when you saw the pleading look she gave you.

“Please, Domina.”

She offered you no further explanation, but the fear in her eyes was explanation enough. She was not doing this of her own accord, but under instruction. And if you knew your father well, under strict instruction.

Whatever plans he had for you, you knew you would have little to no choice in the matter.

Wordlessly, you acquiesced and allowed her to continue. You did not protest when she brushed, braided and pinned your hair into an elaborate updo. You were compliant when she lined your eyes with kohl and blotted your lips with mulberry juice.

Primped and primed like a prized show horse, you dismissed your maid, sat by the window and awaited your fate.

Not long passed before the sound of a male timbre filled the room.

“It appears your outfit is missing something.”

You turned to the direction of the voice to see your father standing in the doorway. Instinctively, you stood to your feet - less as a show of respect and more because you were used to being on guard in his presence.

In his hands he held a translucent, gauzy material, sheer in nature and vibrant in colour, that was all too familiar to you.

Your mother’s favourite veil.

Usually fixed firmly atop her head during special occasions - festivals, birthdays, weddings and the like - you could recognise it from a mile away. Growing up, you had associated this veil with womanhood itself. You would traipse around the corridors of the villa with it wrapped around your head haphazardly, the excess fabric trailing behind you as you ran as fast as your little legs could carry you.

What a foreign sight it was to see it in the hands of your father. And what a foreign sight it was to see him in your chambers.

Following your mother’s passing, the two of you had not conversed beyond what was formally required of you, your already fragile relationship fracturing completely. Yet here he was, extending a peace offering. An olive branch.

Pleased as you were to receive it, you were not foolish enough to believe this to be a genuinely affectionate gesture. A politician through and through, your father was no stranger to symbolic gestures, and he had made no attempts to mend your relationship prior to this moment. This sudden generosity, paired with your extravagant dressing, could only mean one thing.

He wanted something from you.

Now, you had two options. Comply with his request, or comply with his request begrudgingly. You chose the latter, of course. Even if obedience was your only option, you weren’t going to make this easy for him.

You casted him a quick look of derision. “If you wish to barter for my forgiveness with a piece of cloth, I am afraid your efforts have been wasted.”

Unphased, he stepped further into the room. “Now, now, peace, dear daughter. Let us be civil.” The faux humility in his tone was almost comical.

“Perhaps you feel…wronged by me for holding your mother to a certain standard. But, you must understand that I was simply fulfilling my duties, by encouraging her to fulfil her own. I have particular responsibilities to this family. As do you, now.”

You levelled him with an icy glare, wise enough not to express your discontent verbally, but too headstrong not to express it somehow.

“And even if I have, in some unfathomable way, wronged you; to err is human, to forgive, divine.”

After knowing him for as long as you did, you knew this was the closest thing to an apology you would get. You also knew your father was a talented orator - it’s how he gained a large enough political following to join the Senate, after all. And so you prepared yourself to be subjected to one of his moving speeches.

“It is common knowledge that women are the weaker sex,” What a great way to start, you snarked to yourself. “Yet, I have always seen a unique strength in you. Not physical strength, of course, but a mental fortitude. Since you were a young girl you have been willful, stubborn,” he took a step closer to you with each word, purple-lined toga brushing the floor as he advanced.

As he said the last word, he gave you a knowing look. “Nosy.”

You failed to hide your shock. “Oh yes, I saw you slinking around behind the pillars.” He waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not, now. In fact, whatever dregs of information you picked up from eavesdropping on my discussions may soon prove useful.”

His face was a picture of smugness, with an eyebrow cocked and the corners of his mouth upturned as if he knew something you didn’t. With just a few sentences he had complimented you (even if it was backhanded), revealed that he knew your secret, and teased you with a nugget of information. The perfect combination to make you anticipate his next words.

Silence filled the room as he kept you in suspense, mind whirring as you mulled over his cryptic words.

One hand held your mother’s veil in front of him, while the other caressed its folds delicately. His eyes had a faraway look in them that suggested his mind had travelled to another time.

“Your mother was a strong woman. Not strong enough in the end, regrettably, but strong nonthele-”

“Don’t.” You interjected. “You will not sully her memory with your caustic words.”

His lips spread into a diplomatic smile, but the twitch of his eye betrayed the irritation he felt. Belligerent as he was, he ignored your outburst and continued.

“Unlike her, you have the makings of a lady of great influence. Much like me, you have the mind for politics. That potential lies latent within you.”

With a gentleness you wished was also reflected in his words, he draped the veil over your head. “I advise you not to waste it, dear daughter, and suffer the fate of lesser women.”

You scoffed at his words, readjusting the veil so it rested perfectly atop your head and shoulders. “And how do you suggest I fulfil this…potential? The Senate is not exactly welcoming of women.”

Well-pleased that your interest had been piqued, he finally reveals his true intentions.

“Accompany me to the imperial banquet tonight. We will celebrate the successful conquest of Britannia.”

“I do not care for banquets, nor do I spare a thought for conquests.”

“You may not care for military conquests, but this banquet itself is a conquest of the political sort. In my experience, much more is won with words, than with swords. And tonight’s event presents an opportunity for much gain.”

Again with the cryptic words.

“Allow me to present you to the Emperors. Your face is comely enough to garner their attention, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, some men find opinionated girls like you to be charming.”

Is he insinuating what you think he is?, you thought incredulously. Surely not.

“The Senate may not be the place for women, but the Senate is not the only facilitator of politics. Why not practice your politics from Palatine Hill?”

There was no mistaking it. He intended to make an Empress of you. Equally as curious as you were sceptical, you decided to test his logic.

“Beauty is fleeting. Charm wanes with time. How would I maintain their favour?”

“That, dear daughter, is up to you. I am certain you will find a way, formidable as you are.”

While it pained you to admit it, he was right. You and your father were more alike than different, what with your scheming and blackmailing. Besides, you were formidable. You were cunning. You were capable.

There may be greater things in store for you yet.

And those greater things began with this banquet.

Upon arrival, you were met with the most magnificent sight you had ever seen. Sat proudly upon Palatine Hill, the palace looked like the image your mind conjured when picturing Olympus. After ascending the intimidating number of steps that led to the entrance, you truly felt like you’d ascended to the land of the gods. Wherever you looked there was amazing artwork that instilled equal parts awe and fear in you.

Look up, and there were grand arches to behold. Look to the side, and the spectacular frescoes offered a feast for the eyes. Look down, and there were beautifully designed floor mosaics you almost felt bad for stepping on.

As you passed through into the atrium, it was much the same. Ostentatiously decorated, it boasted gilded walls and glorious tapestries, each feature a testament to the Emperors’ opulence, and Rome’s riches.

But it was impossible to focus fully on the artwork with the room heaving as it was. Eyes darting from one person to another with every passing second, you were captivated by the spectacle the hoard of partygoers presented. Something seemed to be happening in every square foot of the room, each guest having their fill of whatever their vice of choice was for the night. Wine was in abundance, giving way to loose lips, and scantily-clad whores prowled about in the shadows, giving way to loose purse strings.

You had been to your fair share of lavish affairs, but this was a whole new world of revelry.

Between the loud percussion of the musicians’ instruments, the aroma of the heavily seasoned foods and the leering gazes of overexcited men, you began to feel overstimulated. You stuck close to your father as he led you into the heart of the throng, finding comfort in the familiar when surrounded by the foreign. Better the devil you know.

Oblivious to your discomfort, he reprimands you under his breath. “Stop clinging to me like a child, lest our venture fail before it has even begun.”

You’d been so taken by your surroundings that you hadn’t registered where your father was leading you to. Now you stood in front of the two men at the centre of this affair, who were seated majestically upon a golden threaded couch. You prayed you didn’t look like the bewildered little girl you certainly felt like.

With a grand, sweeping gesture of his hand, your father bowed.

“Imperators, what an honour it is to partake in these…wondrous celebrations with your Majesties.”

“Senator,” one of them said, voice smooth like honey but with an edge that demanded caution. His face bore a smile, but his tone was calm and measured. “What a pleasure it is to see you.” The twitch of his eyebrow suggested otherwise. “In a more agreeable mood, might I add.” The man beside him sniggers.

More agreeable? Whatever could that mean? For the second time in one night you found yourself deciphering cryptic words. Father must have angered the Emperors, somehow.

“And you’ve brought…” He trailed off, looking at your father expectantly.

“Yes, Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla,” with a single clap and an officious clearing of his throat he stepped to the side, no longer obscuring their vision of you. “May I present my daughter…”

You managed to regain your composure, exhibiting a grace only a lady of the upper echelons of society could possess when you sunk into a deep curtsy. Lifting your gaze, you were met with the hair-raising sensation of being observed. Not just observed – scrutinised.

A pair of eyes, deep brown like rich soil, trailed over your form. The man that addressed your father with contempt - Geta. His brows furrowed as he took the sight of you in. Lined with kohl much like yours, his eyes were smouldering in their examination.

Another pair, red-rimmed and cloudy with the haze of inebriation, were the perfect contrast. The man that sniggered - Caracalla. With irises of a cold blue hue, they would have been intimidating if they belonged to a face other than his, what with his rosy rounded cheeks and seemingly perpetual impish grin.

Despite their differences, the relation between the men was clear as day. Flaming locks of hair and the gold laurels that circled their heads confirmed their identities. These were the infamous twin tyrants.

But it wasn’t just the weight of their eyes that you felt. Lounging around the couch in various positions and in varying states of undress, was an entourage of courtesans. You did your best to avert your gaze, as theirs bore into you.

And what a pleasant sight you were. Adorned with ornate jewellery and clad in the finest of silks, you were easily one of the best dressed at the banquet. Before a word had been uttered, your appearance relayed a message – you were a lady of fine stature, more than accustomed to luxury and thus, would be well-suited to palace life.

Well-suited to be Empress.

Not taking any chances, your father decided not to leave anything up for interpretation.

He began listing your virtues as if reading from a handbook - 100 Things to Look For in a Roman Wife. He spoke of your piety, your beauty, your fertility. With every trait of yours that was mentioned, you grew increasingly more irate and keeping the docile smile on your face became increasingly more difficult.

“...and lest I forget, she is most gifted with the lyre-”

“How quaint.” Caracalla interrupted, a peal of childish laughter bubbling from his lips. “He presents his daughter’s hand as if he is lobbying for a law to be passed!”

Geta scoffed, “Or a conquest to be forfeited.”

At this, Caracalla doubled over in laughter, the overfilled cup of wine in his hand threatening to spill over the rim with every jostle of his frame. Clearly there’s a joke you’re missing here.

There’s a wicked glint in Geta’s eyes that tells you this joke has guile.

“Three sennights have lapsed since you last stood before us, spewing nonsense about abandoning our pursuit of Britannica.” The vitriol that coated his voice strung a discordant note in the mellifluous tune of his brother’s continuous laughter. “Yet here you stand in your Emperors’ palace,” he gestured at the ongoing frivolities. “Drinking and making merry with spoils from the very war you so vehemently opposed.”

Ah. It finally clicked. From what you had picked up from your father and his associates’ discussions, you knew that this conquest had long since been under contention among the Senators. The campaign was taking longer than anticipated, and required more reinforcements than expected. The Roman force was fatigued. At home, the starving plebeians of Rome were one famine away from revolting, and without the full support of the army, politicians relied on empty promises to appease their constituents and maintain order. Yet, the Emperors were adamant on expanding Rome’s borders.

For whatever reason, at the last Senate meeting three weeks ago your father had been the unfortunate soul to suggest that the troops should draw back. And now he stood before them at the celebration of the successful conquest, presenting you as a bargaining chip to secure his pardon. Opposing the Emperors was costly, and he decided you were going to pay that price on his behalf.

Geta leaned his head on his hands as he asked, “Tell me, Senator, what makes you think you will triumph this time?”

You watched your father’s reaction with bitter disbelief. For the first time in your life, your silver-tongued father, the man that had landed you this fate, floundered for words.

Fine. If this was the hand dealt to you, so be it. But you were going to do this your way.

“Your Majesties,” At the sound of your sweet voice, Geta’s gaze affixed itself to your face. Instantly, he was beguiled. “If I may…”

With the slow incline of his head, you were permitted to speak.

“I know little of war,” you feigned ignorance. “But I do know that defying the odds to bring glory to Rome is no small feat.” Preening at your praise, Geta leaned forward in his seat, a silent encouragement for you to continue. “Rome and her citizens are fortunate to be led by you, Imperators, and I am grateful to be in the presence of such wise rulers.”

His mouth spread into a self-satisfied smirk. “I bask in your praises, my lady. It pleases me to see that someone in your family has a semblance of loyalty to the powers above them” A pointed look was shot at your father. “You see, all those that oppose their Emperors,” His venomous gaze roved over the group of Senators shifting uneasily as they watched this ordeal. “Will soon learn that there is only one way for a man to wield power.” He held up his index finger for emphasis and paused for suspense. “War.”

With all the self-assurance of a man that has never truly been challenged, he stalked towards you.

“What other power can bring a man to his knees and cause him to surrender?”

“I can think of nothing greater than war!” Caracalla piped up from behind him.

“Yes, brother.” Geta held his cup of wine up in agreement. “By no other means can a man wield such power. I am sure my lady agrees?” He offered his right hand, each finger as bejewelled as the next.

The ultimatum he presented you with was clear. Kiss the ring, let all be forgiven and allow this encounter to end pleasantly. Refuse the ring, and…well, don’t refuse the ring.

But compliance was predictable, and would only get you so far. Your beauty and charm had ignited a spark of interest in him, but that wasn’t enough. You needed that spark to burst into a flame.

With swan-like grace you knelt before him and took his hand, smiling inwardly when his eyes followed your descent with rapture. You didn’t miss his quick intake of breath when you halted your movements to look up and meet his eye, lips an inch away from the stunning signet ring.

“Upon second thought,” You tilted your head as if considering his words. ��There exists another power great enough to make a man kneel in surrender.” At your bold words, the hand you held tightened around your fingers until he had a firm grip of your hand. “A power so great, even Emperors are not immune.”

Gasps of shock came from the onlookers sober enough to process what they had heard.

“Impertinence!” Caracalla’s cry of protest tore you from the captivity of his brother’s gaze.

“Forgive my daughter, she oversteps her bounds.” Your father spat the words out and fixed you with a look of warning, a late and unappreciated attempt to de-escalate the night’s proceedings.

With a wave of Geta’s hand, his words were dismissed. For the sake of keeping your resolve, you pretended not to see the Praetorians return their drawn swords to their scabbards.

You returned to the intense stare of brown eyes narrowed in… intrigue? Suspicion? You weren’t sure, but you had his attention.

“And what power would that be?”

Your gentle smile had him entranced. “The strike of a drum, the strum of a lyre’s strings. Music, my Imperator, holds much power.”

See, while your father was busy waxing lyrical about you, you had been studying Geta closely. As he listened to others speak, his fingers unconsciously tapped the thigh of the courtesan perched on the arm of the couch. But they were not tapping any old rhythm – they tapped to the beat of the percussion in the background.

The ring your lips had puckered up to kiss was not embossed with an imprint of Mars, the god of war, but Apollo, god of music. Geta the Emperor championed conflict and violence, but Geta the man held music dear.

Rich eyes twinkled as his laugh rang in your ears. “Ah, yes. Your father mentioned your skill with the lyre. He failed to mention your humour.” He didn’t believe you.

“I assure you, Imperator, my lyre-playing is unparalleled.” You indulged him with a coy smile.

“You believe you would best our most talented musician? That your playing would put your Emperors’ finest to shame?” He challenged your claim.

“Given the chance, I would outplay each of the Nine Muses,” you asserted boldly. You rose to his challenge.

His eyes gleamed with ardour as he regarded your statement with a raised brow. “I await the day I hear you play with baited breath, my lady.”

“It would be my pleasure, my liege.”

Not risking any more excitement, you curtsied and took your father’s arm as he guided you towards the outskirts of the atrium, and away from watching eyes. He wasted no time expressing his displeasure.

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Has some strange plague come over your mind?!” He released an exasperated sigh. “You should have held that tongue of yours.”

“Oh, and left you there, stammering like a bumbling fool? Father,” you uttered the paternal term without an ounce of familial affection. “You entrusted this ploy into my hands, so leave it there.”

Anger flashed across his face like a clap of thunder. Before he could berate you for your indolence, however, a piercing shriek stole the moment.

You pushed through the crowd to see the commotion, weaving past bodies stilled with shock at whatever it is they were witnessing. When you got to the centre, you were met with a most harrowing display of fraternal discord.

Geta lay sprawled out on the marble floor, the corded muscle of his limbs tensing as he strained to hold back the man towering over him, wielding a dagger above his head. Caracalla.

At first glance one may have supposed this fray was borne of anger, but with the spittle flying out of gritted teeth that gnashed and snarled like those of some inhuman beast, the incoherent stream of words and the crazed look in his eyes, it was clear that he did not have full agency of his person.

The rumours were true. He was having one of his infamous episodes.

Your eyes darted from Praetorian to Praetorian, waiting for one of them, any of them to take action. Their hands rested on the hilt of their swords, hesitation rooting them to their spots. To raise a hand against Caracalla would be treason, punishable by death. To ignore the distress of Geta would be treason, also punishable by death. They were at an impasse.

The chatter of mingling guests and the ambience of the musicians’ instruments had long since stopped, leaving the grunts of the brothers to take their place. All watched on in stunned silence, revelers turned horrified spectators.

Their scrambling continued. Geta managed to hook a leg around Caracalla’s ankle, toppling him over to join him on the cold marble. Wine cups clanged as they were knocked to the ground, collateral. The cacophony of sound nearly masked the sound of Geta’s desperate plea.

“Break the spell! Break the spell!”

Moved by an impetus you couldn’t explain, you barreled further through the crowd until you reached the musicians’ corner. You grabbed the lyre from the hands of the bard (who was too focused on the ongoing tumult to protest), and started strumming the tune of a nursery rhyme favoured by Roman children both rich and poor.

Dulcet tones and sweet symphonies echoed through the chamber as you sang of Rome’s rolling hills, of fair maidens awaiting the return of brave soldiers, of the Tiber River’s ebb and flow.

Those around you listened intently, enraptured. They stepped aside, clearing a path for you towards the quarreling brothers. You walked forward as you sang, and as you reached the last verse you stood a few feet away from where they squirmed, limbs akimbo.

From your position you saw the exact moment the muscles in Caracalla’s face relaxed, and his body went limp. He released a weak whimper better-suited to an injured animal than the tyrannical emperor he was rumoured to be.

Eyes fixed on you over his brother’s shoulder, he dropped the dagger as if compelled. Tears began to run down his face as he wailed, balling himself up into a foetal position. When they noticed his change in disposition, his entourage took the chance to spirit him away from the room.

The final note of your song rang out. A beat passed as everyone came to, as if they too were held captive in a trance. Then, a slow, steady clap from one became a roaring applause, your fellow guests lauding your performance as if it had been planned.

Chest heaving from exertion, Geta used a three-legged (formerly four-legged) stool to pull himself from the floor and adjusted his toga. At the raise of his hand, the clapping stopped. Flopping back to sit on the couch, he gestured for you to come forward. His expression was inscrutable.

Before you could scrape together an apology, or some sort of explanation, you were utterly disarmed by the grin that spread across his face.

“My lady,” He huffed between words, still catching his breath. “I stand corrected. It appears your flair with the lyre is equally as bewitching as your looks.”

Your cheeks heated up at his confession of attraction towards you. “It pleases me that you think of me so, my Emperor.”

“Mmm.” He hummed, dark eyes taking their time to appraise you. “The power to bring a man to his knees can be very dangerous, you know. I believe it would be in the best interest of Rome and her citizens if such power was… managed by the capable hands of their Emperor.”

The chill of deja vu ran down your spine when he extended his hand in your direction. A second invitation to kiss the ring. Most people only get one.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

As your lips made contact with the cold metal of Apollo’s face and you sealed your fate, you closed your eyes and said a silent prayer. When you opened them again, you found eyes the colour of rich soil searching yours.

He turned the hand that gripped his and pressed a surprisingly sweet kiss to the back of it. His kisses travelled up your arm, growing more and more fervent, the plush of his lips leaving warmth on every spot they pressed against. He used his hold on you to pull you towards him until you were close enough to smell the heady scent of patchouli mixed with the subtle musk of perspiration, and count the freckles on his speckled cheeks, peeking through the layer of makeup.

His palm ran up and down your arm repeatedly, inching further up each time.

“You will make a home for yourself here, in these palace walls.” Brown eyes gazed into yours, full of a veneration you couldn’t fathom. “And you shall be my little Muse.”

As if the troubles of your life thus far had not been a sufficient allotment of suffering, the Fates had now tasked you with weathering the twin tempers of the Emperors Geta and Caracalla. And surviving.

Gods help you.

A/N: thank you ever so much for reading ! i'm working on part two so let me know if you want me to post it when it's done <3

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated x

#emperor geta x reader #geta x reader #gladiator ii #gladiator ii fic #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator ii fanfiction #geta x you #geta imagine #emperor geta #𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘢? 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 '𝘦𝘳!#𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘹𝘴𝘵𝘺𝘹 𝘧𝘪𝘤

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ddejavvu · 2 years ago

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i blame you so much for my sudden poly!marauders obsession lolol i genuinely cant find anyone who writes them as good as you do!

but imagine like lily asking fuck marry kill out of the three of them, and you give the obvious “marry all of them” but they keep pressing you for your answer even though they know one of them is gonna get hurt (even if you said a name on purpose as a joke lmao) bonus points if one of them is being so dramatic and just fr lies on the floor pretending to be dead for the rest of the day and being all sulky.

I'm so glad you like the way that I write them!

"I'm not choosing," You shake your head, jaw clenched resolutely, "I'd like to marry them all."

"And fuck," Sirius boasts, "'Not gonna get a murder out of her, Lils."

"She's gotta choose," Remus presses, and you've got half a mind to kill him just for the suggestion, "Come on, darling, we won't be upset. S'just a game."

"Fuck," You pause, glancing fearfully between your three partners. Your eyes drop to Sirius's hands, veiny and ringed, and you breathe out, "Sirius. 'Cause- 'cause his hands look nice like that."

"Knew I'd be safe," He brags, blowing you a kiss with the aforementioned handsome hands.

"And marry," You trail off again, looking between James and Remus. Remus is far more nonchalant than James is, looking like he really wouldn't mind if you decided he'd need to perish for a party game. But it's still not fair, and you're terrified of hurting his feelings without knowing just because he put up a front.

"James," You glance fearfully over at the curly-headed boy, who looks elated until he realizes you have more to say, "Last week. You ate the cookie I was saving."

His eyes widen in fear, an endearing shade of sweet brown as he shakes his head. His curls fly and he clasps his hands together in a cartoonish display of begging, "No! No, sweetheart, I'm sorry! Don't do this," He begs, sprawling out over the floor on his belly so that he can stare imploringly up at you from below, "Please, maybe- maybe if we kiss you can still taste it! And I'll make you a dozen more," He tries, grief-stricken at your verdict.

"Tough break," Remus claps James on the back of the thigh, then smooths a soothing touch up his back, "'S okay Prongs, I'd bring flowers to your grave every day, y'know?"

"Better luck next time," Sirius drawls, seeming all too interested in James's current ass-up position - there's a reason you chose him for 'Fuck'.

"I'm sorry, Jamie." You lament, and the man lets himself go limp, eyes fluttering shut and tongue falling out of his mouth in a very dramatic impression of death. You nudge your nose between his curls, bury a kiss on his scalp, and whisper in his ear while you're down there, "I'd like to fuck and marry you too, dear."

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whorediaries-09 · 1 year ago

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million dollar man;

pairing- sirius black x camgirl!reader warning(s)- drinking, 18+ content, slightly dark themes. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- shit's porn with no plot fr.

ps- 🎵i don't have to pretend i like acid rock🎵

masterlist

and I don't know how you get over, get over someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you

the plastic dildo stretches your pussy open, your hand fondling your breast as you continue you ram the dildo into yourself. you bite your lip, moans leaving your mouth as your device starts tuning endlessly, your viewers sending you money for the show you put on for them.

'fuck fuck, am so close,' you whimper, your walls clamping down around the dildo. your fingers entangle with silk sheets under you and you arch your back, cumming around the dildo.

'shit,' you scream, your orgasm taking you from within, consuming the shit out of you. you fondle with your clit trying to calm yourself, breathing heavy,

'yeah, thank you guys for the money and shit, i've gotta leave.' you suck your fingers audibly before turning off the stream.

'god,' you mutter to yourself, falling back on your bed, scrolling through your phone, going through your reminders. the metal of your ring sat cold on the hot skin of your forehead, sending shivers down your spine.

your phone rings. it's lily, and with some hesitation, you pick the phone up.

'hey,'

'hello,'

'why do you sound so breathless? are you okay?'

shit.

'yeah i'm okay. just burned a few eggs,'

stupid.

the sound of her slapping her hand against her forehead is audible through the line and you chuckle,

'seriously, woman you need to hire a chef or something to make you some simple eggs,'

'eh, i was just you know distracted,'

'hmm....so you remember the plan right?'

silence.

'plan?' you mutter.

'oh yeah you totally forgot. anyways i'm introducing you to my boyfriend and his friends at the local pub today...but you already know them,'

'yeah i know them, but i also know you,'

'yep... so nine thirty?'

'i'll see you there,' you confirm before she cuts off the line.

you had half an hour to get ready.

*****

while the place is not unfamiliar to you, and neither are the people around you, you feel out of place within the bounds of sitting in the group of people. everyone seemed to really know each other, and you felt like the black sheep of them group. and that was true, somewhat.

you only really knew lily properly, as you grew up as the shy and quiet kid in school. while james and his group were known throughout the school, you obviously had heard of them, but somewhere along the lines, you never engaged in much conversations with them. except for perhaps peter and remus, who seemed to be fairly quieter than the other two but not to be mistaken as the 'innocent fellas'. remus and peter seemed to be the masterminds of all the shenanigans the group caused within the walls of the school, but rarely engaging in the plans they curated themselves.

'so what do you do for the money?'

the question directed at you pulls you out of the stance and you stare blankly for a few moments before answering,

'nothing much right now, just working at a toyshop, what about you?'

you're not sure who had asked the question, but just to make it seem like you had been paying attention, you had asked back the question. but when the gray eyed, raven haired man had answered your voiced question, you felt a spark of heat lightening you up,

'i work at as a tattoo artist, but trying for a modelling career to be honest,' sirius answers, his voice similar to how you remembered it, yet so different. he pops an olive in his mouth, swirling his teeth over his front row of teeth. you feel his eyes gleam and scan you. you're not sure whether he's judging you or checking you out with the smirk on his pretty lips.

but there's something about his unbroken gaze that speaks to you, that makes you think that he knows something you don't. there's something about it that makes you feel hot from within, and a like a solemn chant, it echoes into your head. your lips curve around the glass of alcohol, the liquid unnervingly warm down your throat. you let the ice cube sit atop your tongue, the coldness numbing down the nerves of your senses.

'lily,'

'hmm?'

'i'm excusing myself.'

'yeah, yeah sure,'

******

'always wanted to feel this pretty pussy gripping my cock tight,' he groans into your ear, pushing your face into the dirty mirror of the washroom. how he got into the ladies washroom without offending anyone wasn't your lookout.

not when he was filling you up so much better than your stupid plastic dildo ever could.

you moan out in severe pleasure, feeling the coil of orgasm hit you again, build up in your nerves. his finger runs complicated figure eights on your sensitive clit and you throw your ass back, trying to get more of him inside your gushing hole.

'more, more, please sirius,' you beg. in a swift move, he's got you turned around, plunging himself into you even deeper, wrapping your legs around his hips. he smacks your ass, pushing three of his wet fingers into your mouth. he feels his the mixture of his warm cum and your saliva in your mouth. he brings your mouth down to his, and forming a pellet of spit on his tongue, he drops it into your mouth, and your groan.

'swallow it you filthy little thing,'

you obey, swallowing away the wrecked mixture of cum and spit. he splits you open, devouring the insides of your hole. his pubic hair teases with your stimulated clit. his cock hits your g-spot so perfectly, it makes you tear up, your mascara rolling down your heated cheeks.

he bites the skin of your neck, leaving spots, marking you all over. you feel trepid, the way he makes you see stars with every push of his cock inside you, filling you up with his treacherous, dirty words.

'f-fuck,' you scream, as you clench your walls around his cock, squirting open his torso. your eyes roll back, toes twisted against the sole of your slippers. you slack your mouth open, with the pleasure that his touch drives you into, and you're high, cock-drunk with the way he's filling you up, using you.

'thought i wouldn't recognize you?' he shudders, thrusting upto you, grabbing your bare nipple between his teeth.

'exposing all of this pretty cunt to the world, getting money with your pretty moans and words. how does it feel to let a real cock fill you up? hmm?' he asks, mockingly.

'so, so good,' you cry the walls of your overstimulated pussy. you cry it in a benevolent lust as he fucks you stupid, chasing his high.

'come on, come on, look at me,' he growls, grabbing your chin to make you look into his lust drowned eyes. you feel him empty himself into you, filling to till your guts, the warmth of his seed feeling you up. he circles around your sensitive clit, groaning and moaning into your ear, feeling the warm walls of your cunt flutter around him.

'now this pretty pussy is mine. j-just fucking mine.'

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius black smut #the marauders #sirius black x reader #marauders era #sirius black imagine #sirius black thoughts #sirius black x oc #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanart #sirius being sirius #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you

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im-a-not-so-sirius-star · 6 months ago

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───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

~~intro post~~

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heyyy!!! i assume you know by know… that i am the amazing, one and only…

sirius orion black!!!

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pronouns>>> he/they/she - genderfluid

sexuality>>> gay (remussexual, aka taken)

age>>> 17

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i am originally from france, but i live in london with the amazing james, (most of the year im at school with my amazing boyfriend remus <333) im gendurfluid and gay as a leprechaun!!! my fav colours are black (obvi) brown, and navy blue ;) my fav food is (again, obviously) anything that the wonderful effie cooks!!! she truly is amazing… my fav movie is howls moving castle, or harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban, and my fav book is the echo room by parker peevyhouse (ik what a weird name… almost as bad as rowling)

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

my amazing friends!!!!!

the loml, @rj-mo0ny-lupin 🌕

my platonic soulmate, @heres-ur-daily-dose-of-prongsie 🦌

our little rat, @wormtail-pete ! 🐁

@ur-fave-rockstar-girl, said to be a female me 💋

@mary-macdonald1, the female prongs fr 🦌

@lily-pad-love, the best feminomenon out there 🌸

@aunty-emms-emporium >>> the best childhood bff 👧🏻

@reggieblackthepoet , little bro and bff’s bf??? 🐈‍⬛

@barty-not-bartemius crouch jr, a slytherin me 🔪

@driedoutrose prevents barty from killing me 🥀

@pandadoraa, my divination buddy <3 🔮

@cassie-meadowes, fashion partner in crime 💅

@sybilances, pandoras amazing friend 🪐

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

fav singers/bands :)))))

queen, bowie, conan gray, abba, arctic monkeys, pink floyd, led zeppelin, taylor swift, lana del rey, masie peters, the smiths, blondie, mott the hoople, acdc, billy joel, avril lavigne, marina, sex pistols, t. rex,

the list could go on foreverrr

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additional info (abt the role play)

this is 100% for funsies, i’d seen many rp blogs, and i want to act as sirius for a bit, so why not. i have a lot of different opinions/headcanons with sirius that might be uncommon??? (idk) if u don’t like mine, remember that there is plenty of other rp blogs out there, and they might have what you’re looking for. pls no hate, as i said, this is all for fun, and most likely only a temporary thing. if you want to join the rp, just dm me on @im-ur-sleep-paralysis-demon with the character u want to be <333

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my headcanons>>>

gendurfluid sirius for life!!! he, she, they, sirius is all of them in one

feminine sirius <3 ik it’s similar to gendurfluid sirius, but it’s way different at the same time

short sirius :) that man is at most 5, 5” oml and remus is about 69 feet tall

drama queen omfgggggg!!! if being a dramatic baby was a sport in the olympics, sirius would have a diamond medal omg (ofc affectionately)

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ty for reading, and if u want, go check out my main, @starsandmarsbars!!!!!

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rometalia · 25 days ago

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some art by my friend @vampires-at-your-door <333 been thinking abt them fr they’re so silly and fucked up sigh

and hello again everyone,, I’m somewhat back as winter break for me is starting really soon.

I’ve been reading up a little on indo-Roman trade relationships (and IndRome in general) and tbh it’s funny to me. Like in hetalia terms Rome really wasted all of his money on silk, ivory, textiles, spices etc… much to the complaint of some (including Remus who was the most bitchy about it) but Rome didn’t care sigh he wanted him so bad (and his goods ofc) 💔

Rome is someone to me that is incapable of maintaining a romantic relationship because at the end of the day it all comes down to how it benefits him. I think he more or less had an infatuation with India because of what he represented (wealth and power among other things) and his riches. Rome is someone who chases glory, so of course he was going to chase after India next. I could say so much more but I’m tired so maybe later FSHDHDHD

Poor Remus that his older brother cares more about a man he hasn’t seen for the longest time than him LOL. Bro had every reason to become a villain /hj

(Edit: did some minor word changes and changed the first pic to the completed version <3)

#rometalia #aph rome #2p rome #hetalia #historical hetalia #hws roman empire #remus vargas #romulus vargas #APH India #hws India #indrome #oc rambles #food for thought…#hetaroma fanart

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mrstellmeafuckingsecret · 3 months ago

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pls pls pls pls pls yap about ur opinions on fanon and the absolute slaughter that has happened to some of these characters!!! oml pleaseeeeee! i'm dying to hear someone who agrees with me cuz so many ppl just don't get it!!!!!!! babe i'll take anything!!!! fanon!remus slander, love it, fanon!regulus slander, live for it, fanon!sirius slander, NEED it!!! if you're feeling really in the mood, maybe marlene?? literally just yap and im yours!!!!!!!

HI ily OKAY SO!!!

fanon remus fuck him man he's so annoying i hate everything about him but TODAY i will be talking about his backstory im sorry its so !!! UGH. so much of the marauders fandom makes him either an orphan (atyd)/give him severe daddy issues and i hate that ?? so much ???

he suffered a lot canonically thru his childhood, but people erase that and give him these new issues that dont go well w his character (at least in the way i've seen it done).

do people not understand having a very lonely childhood + being discriminated against x2 + having low self esteem + etc can give you long term consequences??? do they think the only way one can have trauma/ptsd/etc is if they got beat by their dad?? probably !!! so @ marauders fans fuck you !!! other problems exist lmao they're just not as romanticizable

fanon AND canon regulus. I HATEEE HIM. I DESPISE HIM. I CANNOT. i cannot rant about him rn. it's like 9am and im trying to have a good day.

fanon sirius my bby what did they do to you ☹️☹️☹️

i cant even hate him bc i just feel so bad for him every1 litr hates him+bullies him sm like he doesnt even do anything and like that must be so triggering and annoying and ugh ily bby

but like rant right SAWR

i actually do NOT understand why sirius was changed sm in fics ?? like you could just shittily simplify his char to remus fanon or morally grey bf or smth and thats infinitely hotter+more accurate ??? idk !!!! ive ranted abt him a lot so idk what to yap abt rn IM SORRY ily

MARLENE !!!!!!!!!!!!! marlene. ok i hate her fanon. like fr. why is she the token mean lesbian like ho get a life. her only traits are gay gay & gay and bfr we see the problem w that right. like ugh. + i never see any discrimination she has to face ?? which is weird esp since beabadoobee is a lot of people's fc of her? and shes gay ?? i feel like when u have a char thats just a blank slate you can do sm w it but the marauders fandom just turned her into npc number 14 like fuck u man

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cressthebest · 7 months ago

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Crimson Rivers thoughts part 37

chapter 56:

1. 😦 they.. they put a mask on sirius? they put him in azkaban?? my boy!! no!

2. 😭😭 sirius having already killed three guards tho. i love him

3. “Bastards they may be, stupid they are not.”

4. “At least he gets the sound of his own voice, though, which is a huge improvement in his opinion.”

he’s so funny i love him. he’s a murderer! he fell in love with a servant! he loves the sound of his own voice! he’s demisexual! he volunteered for regulus twice! he likes wood carving! he called the random guard “stuart”! he convinced the head gamemaker to change the rules so he can keep his brother and best freind! he continues to obnoxiously sing when face to face with riddle!

no one is doing it like him, i fear

5. “"Sounds like you've had a shitty week," is what Sirius says, finally, when he can bring himself to speak.”” 😭😭 he’s so bold. my dear, you are chained in front of the most dangerous man in the world and you tell HIM that his life fucking sucks. my dear. the ABSOLUTE GALL you have

6. “"I need not lie, Sirius."

"Yeah, that's what liars say."”

my DEAR

7. “”Kneel down on the floor before me like a dog and beg."”

i prefer this out of context. but in context, it’s riddle being an absolute bitch to sirius. like excuse you.

8. “Sirius Black is many, many things, but a peasant before a king is never and will never be one.” A-FUCKING-MEN

9. 😮 did sirius just BITE OFF A CHUNK OF RIDDLES ARM??? praise be

10. marylily?? marylily??? MARYLILY??? going feral at any and all hints towards them

11. “"I like your legs," Lily says stupidly, because her brain and mouth have disconnected briefly, apparently.”

bbg i’m in love with you 😭😭

12. aww any mentions of petunia from lily break my heart

13. lily being so desperately in love with mary is my new drug

14. REMUS AND LILY FALLING RIGHT BACK INTO ROUTINE WITH BEING OBNOXIOUS TO EACH OTHER >>>>>>>>

15. “Lily gave him his [cigarette] first in six years days ago, and he'd coughed through the whole thing, then smoked five more back-to-back.”

16. “A stranger is just someone you haven't met yet. What do you call someone you knew better than yourself that you no longer recognize? A ghost?”

wtf wtf wtf that’s insane to write. lily and remus did NOT deserve this

17. “Lily has never known a Remus afraid of freedom, and Remus has never known a Lily afraid of love.”

18. “because they're still two bodies and one heart after all this time, if nothing else.”

that is beautiful and i’m forever grateful of the way the marauders fandom puts emphasis on the importance of friendships. like, this isn’t about a romantic couple. that is said about FRIENDS. friends got that description of their love for each other.

19. the fact that their friendship is so close, remus can REACH INTO LILY’S bra (to grab a cig) and she’s just upset cause his hands are cold.

20. crying actually, cause of all things to break me this chapter, it’s the fact that sirius and effie smoke together

21. oof i have a bad feeling about how dorlene is gonna end up

22. 😦😦 marlene gives the ring back. wtfffff damn that hurtsss

23. “”I am telling you this explicitly, right now, if you shoot your shot and fuck up in any way, I will let her pick a part of your body to take as a trophy, then remove it and give it to her. Still interested?"

"Even more so," Rodolphus says, wiggling his eyebrows. "She's got crazy friends, too. That's hot."”

me fr 😌 give me insane bitches (oh wait. maybe IM the crazy person)

24. 😳 practically fifteen seconds of flirting and he and barty decided to go fuck. that’s fucking insane. IS THIS HOW ALLOS ARE??? LIKE THEY CAN DO THAT??? (not all allos obviously, but some can do that??)

25. the way servants (slaves) are treated in the hallow make me angry beyond belief. like, seething white hot anger

26. FOAMING AT THE MOUTH AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY!!! THEY FIXED JAMES’ EYESIGHT AND IM SO FUCKING PISSED

27. riddle tortured sirius and lemme jsut say, if someone told that to remus and regulus, the war would be over in a day flat

28. “The odds are not in Riddle's favor. If you ask James, he'll bet on his people every fucking time. It's not a game of chance, or luck, but a game of faith—and James has that in spades.” james’ loyalty is probably my favorite character trait of his

29. honorary authors note mention: “also lmaooo sirius literally in prison and still killing people 😭 he really said: you put me in prison, im gonna commit crimes, duh 🙄 he's everything to me”

30. honorary authors note mention pt 2: “rodolphus "i will hit every step on the crazy ladder if it kills me" lestrange living his truth and getting with the most insane, available people he meets every chance he gets””

#marauders #regulus black #james potter #jegulus #sirius black #remus lupin #crimson rivers #zeppazariel #bizzarestars #sirius orion black #lily evans #lily and remus

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del-stars · 28 days ago

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Actually tho i have a lot to say about this chapter and the way sirius’ view of himself affects his relationship with remus (and Isaiah) because remus sees so much more of sirius than anyone who’s not james ever has and Isaiah is just the voice in Sirius’ head personified he’s another twisted version of the voice in his head telling him he’s worthless and he’s nothing and also just another man who will use and abuse him until there’s really nothing left

It’s interesting that Sirius thinks he’s the one taking and taking from Isaiah when it’s the opposite he also thinks he kept taking and taking from remus when all he did was take what Remus GAVE

Isaiah and Sirius’ relationship is transactional asf nothing sirius takes from him is free there’s always a price and sirius is not alone in this either so are evan and peter it’s sick and twisted how comfortable they all are in this misery sirius has this entire life in his head he wants to live yet he believes he doesn’t deserve it

There’s no atonement for him either god smites him for his sins (which is his own suicidal ideation btw but yk) or he just keeps repeating the same cycle of self destruction because he sees himself as the worst of the worst when the real reason he’s the way he is was entirely out of his control

HE PAYS FOR CRIMES HE DIDNT COMMIT HALF THE TIME ITS FUCKING SICK WHEN WILL HE FORGIVE IT ALL AS IT COMES BACK TO HIM

sirius wake up don’t you know ur supposed to forgive it all as it comes back to you.

but fr in order for him to do that he has to like. get mad about the shit thats happening to him first 😭😭 he’s mirroring the way he was in the first few chapters before he ultimately decided to leave home bc he was like “oh wait i AM in charge of my situation” & bby just needs to realise that again

he thinks love is inherently transactional bc 1) religion (god will only reward me if i am a good person) and 2) most of his relationships have been (his parents) and the ones that haven’t (james/effie/monty and regulus) ended with them going elsewhere/running from him. he has no notion of what a healthy relationship on any level will look like & if he had just fkn gone to james in the FIRST PLACE none of this would’ve happened 😭😭😭 james potter & ur capacity to remind sirius he is worthy of love in every universe

but anyway. SLUT ERA 💜

#he literally just needs to run into one (1) person who’s been to therapy #fic: preacher's dog #jamie tag

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wingedhallows · 8 months ago

Text

traitor - ch. four ; sirius black

pairing: sirius black (golden trio era) x fem! oc |1.8k words warning: dark themes, death, torture plot: Fourteen years ago, Hecate Hunt, a valuable member of the Order and once a Death Eater gave her life for her friends and the man she loved, at least that's what was believed. Now she's done hiding, ready to fight alongside her old friends and her godson. Ready to return to the life she once had, ready to once again be a traitor. authors note: hi babes, i was conflicted to publish it but I thought I'll let you have it. I hope you like it :) If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!

navigation | chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four

“Open this door, now!” Your voice boomed, hands hammering against the wood. Your ribs ached, the cuts and burns stinged.

You were bloody, your clothes soiled mostly with the breakfast Remus had forced down your throat before you went out.

“Let me out!” You cried, tears slowly forming in the corner of your eyes. With your vision blurry and your body aching you slowly but surely sunk to your knees.

“Please.” You whimpered.

You needed to get out. You needed to see Sirius, to see Remus, Lily and James.

With a loud yell you slammed your hands down onto the stone floor, the building cracking and shaking with the force of your magic.

“Calm yourself, Miss. You’re safe here.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. The small window which was carved through the door opened. A man, not much older than you spoke through it.

“Please, you need to let me leave. My friends, they’re-”Sorry, Miss. I can’t do that. Order of the headmaster.” He spoke. You lifted yourself. Slowly you walked up to the door which held you prisoner here.

"Headmaster? Albus put me in here?” The man faltered, trying to find the right words.

“To keep you safe, that’s all I know.” He said again. You need to get him to let you out, somehow. “I need to use the lavatory.” You said, voice small. The man sighed but pointed behind you.

“There’s a bucket-”I am not peeing in a bucket.” He sighed again but shook his head.

“I can’t let you out.” You narrowed your eyes at him and put a hand on the door, weighing your options.

“You’re going to open this door right now and lead me to the fucking toilet before I forget myself and god help me, I kill you.”

He thought for a moment, his mouth pulled in a frown. He seemed to weigh his options, your threat working wonders.

“Alright, Miss.” A bundle of keys jingled in his hand before he pushed the right key in the lock and opened the squeaky door. “This way.” He turned around and expected you to follow.

With as much strength as you could muster you kicked the man's leg and took off in a sprint. Down the stairs and out of the front door. The cold air hit you like a slap but you kept running.

You ran and ran, with your friends and your boyfriend in mind. Suddenly the hair seemed to solidify and your body was flung backwards. Albus had secured the place with a protective spell, of course.

“No, god please.” You spoke as you pushed yourself to your feet. Your body ached worse than before, your leg stung like someone had struck you with a kitchen knife.

“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed as you pushed your hands against the invisible wall.

“Hecate.” A voice spoke and you knew who had said your name. “Albus.” You said, dry and bitter.

“Stop trying, Hecate. You’ve done enough.” He said. You hated him, how he stood there. His hand clasped in front of him, his mouth in a kind smile.

“I haven’t done anything. My friends, they’re still out there and in danger, Albus. Sirius, he’s all alone.” Albus shook his head and tried to calm you once again. “They’re safe.” You shook your head, hot tears on your face.

“I told you that I didn’t want out, I didn’t need your help.” He nodded and spoke again. “I’m aware, but you did need help, Hecate.” You didn’t argue. He pulled something from his pocket, a stick, your wand.

“I believe this belongs to you.” You ripped it from his hand and pointed it right at him. “I want out of here, Albus.” He cocked his head, as to tell you to not do this.

“Let me leave, Albus, please.” He held his own wand in his hand, his other hand raised. “Hecate, please put down your wand.” Your face contorted into a glare, tears leaving your face. Searing hot rage bubbled in your chest as you looked at him.

“I need to be by their side, Albus, please.” He shook his head, a sad look on his face.

“I can’t allow that, Hecate.” A broken sob left your lips as you flung your wand, white purple light leaving the tip of it. Albus did the same. You knew you wouldn’t win, not in your state, yet you wouldn’t go down without putting up a fight.

Albus’ light grew closer and closer by the second before you flung your wand again, a different approach. The old wizard huffed as he mirrored you. It was no use, he was stronger than you.

He disarmed you with one more swish of his wand and you crumbled to the ground with the last bit of your strength leaving your body, even your fingertips seared with pain.

“Patch her up, Orenda.” You heard Dumbledore speak, your chest rose and fell with rabid breaths.

“This is for your own good, Hecate.”

He said before he vanished. The dam broke and you erupted in uncontrollable sobbing. You’d never see your friends again, little baby Harry and Sirius would be all alone.

“Hecate!” You snapped out of it and turned around to look at Remus. Oh how you had missed him. With fast steps you engulfed the man in a tight hug.

“Oh Remus.”

You caressed the back of his head with a smile on your face.

“I missed you, Hecate.” You nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I missed you so so much, Remus.” Sirius and Harry made their way into the living room. Sirius was fast to put a hand around your waist, you placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m so glad to be back.” Remus nodded and sat down on the small couch.

“I’m glad you’re not..dead.”

He said, a crooked smile on his face.

“Me too.” Sirius shook his head at his friend. Harry quietly sat down at the chair next to you two and you both sat down as well.

“I was gone for so long, I missed so much.” You lowered your head as you looked at Harry. He was just a baby when Albus had imprisoned you. Now he was all grown up, looking like the spitting image of James. It was odd.

“I’m glad you’re here now.” Harry said, a small smile on his face.

“It wasn’t my choice, I would’ve been here. I would’ve raised you with Sirius and Remus by my side.” You said, tears threatening to spill as Harry nodded, a small smile on his face. He knew of course, a scenario he so willingly imagined.

“I know.” He simply said.

“It was truly awful to be away from you.” You said, voice quieter than before. Nobody said anything.

“I’ll do anything in my power to help, Harry. I’ll be here and I won’t vanish, not this time.” He nodded.

“I’ll keep you safe, I’ll do whatever, I promise, Harry, I do-”I know.” He said, his face kind. You lifted yourself off the couch, a tear working its way down your cheek.

You wrapped your arms around the young boy and rubbed his back. “We’ll do this together.” He nodded and wrapped his arms around you.

Enjoying the warmth you provided, almost like the mother he never knew, it felt familiar.

“I still can’t believe that you’re really here.” He almost whispered, his fingers ghosting over your cheek. You smiled at him before you wrapped your hand around his and placed a kiss on it.

“Me neither.” He pushed forward and placed a kiss on your lips. “I’m sorry all of this happened to you, Sirius.” He shook his head, his fingers interlaced with yours.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault.” Your gaze fell as you tried to keep the tears at bay. “I wasn’t here when Lily and James died, I wasn’t here when you were imprisoned and I wasn’t here to keep Harry safe.” You paused and pushed your free hand through your hair.

“I messed up big time.” Sirius placed a hand on your cheek as he looked at you.

“Listen to me, Hecate. Albus held you against your will, you had no chance to be here, to save anyone. You’re not at fault, love. You never were.” A tear slipped down your cheek.

“But, Sirius. Lily and James..”

You choked up, a soft sob leaving your lips.

“I know.” He said, a tear leaving his eyes. You clasped his face with your hands and placed a kiss on his lips. With your foreheads pressed against each other you tried to control your breathing.

“Sirius, my love. I’ll never leave you again, over my dead body.” He chuckled but placed his hand on your head. “Please don’t.” You had to smile through the tears.

“I’ll stay by your side till my last breath, I love you so much.” He nodded and pushed some hair behind your ear.

“Stop talking about your death, love. I lost you once.”

You shook your head. Your hands slipped down his jaw and halted on his throat.

“You don’t get what I’m saying.” He looked at you with a crooked smile. You smiled at him, eyes glistening with tears.

“No, apparently not. I love you too, love.” He paused before he pushed the loose strand of hair behind your ear once more. A crooked smile rested on his lips as he looked at you.

“What do you want to tell me, I don’t-”Marry me, Sirius.” You whispered. His smile fell and his eyes widened as he stared at you. “What?” You gave him a big smile.

“I lost so much time with you, so much time we could’ve spent together and so much time in which I never stopped loving you, fifteen years vanished in the blink of an eye and all I ever wanted was you, to live with you, to sleep in one bed with you, to make breakfast, lunch and dinner with you. I want to do that till the end of days, but only with you, I want all of this just with you.”

“So please, Sirius Orion Black, will you marry me?”

A big smile stretched on his lips as he pulled you in for a kiss, so loving and gentle that you seemed to forget all that happened to the both of you and all that was waiting for you, good or bad.

“Yes, love. For all that is holy, I’ll marry you.”

( taglist: @caramelandvenus )

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders imagine #the marauders #marauders era #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #james potter #harry potter #sirius black fanfic #sirius black imagine #siriusblack #the marauders era #sirius black angst #harry potter fanfic #marauders

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