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feriose · 1 day

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not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it.

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups.

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.”

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage.

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.”

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach.

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you.

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.”

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy.

“I know,” you say.

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary.

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble.

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.”

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?”

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.”

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.”

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feriose · 1 day

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oooh hurt comfort jamie requests!!! how about james with a reader who calls him in the middle of the night because she went out with friends (they’re not very good friends) and they left her and now she’s lost and maybe a little drunk and a lot upset and james is like ?? understandably very angry @ her friends but he sucks it up to go find her? maybe a lil comfort at the end where he tucks her into bed :’)

it’s okay if not though!!! thank you for sharing your writing with the world, you are so talented! <3

lost

summary you call james drunk and lost when your friends ditch you on a night out.

content james potter x fem!afab!reader

note this is kinda sucky sorry

James hikes himself up onto his elbow in the dark, the only light comes from his phone that's buzzing on his bedside.

He scrubs at his eyes that feel as dry as his mouth does and blindly reaches for his phone. He misses it the first time and almost drops it once more before he swipes to answer.

He assumes it's Sirius, like it usually is this time of the night, and grumbles a, "What the fuck do you want?"

When he doesn't get some smart-ass comment in reply, just the tiniest hint of a wet sniffle, he freezes in his awkward position.

"Hello?" he says in replacement of his harsh welcome. His voice is still gruff with sleep.

"James?"

He can just hear it, the small sound of a voice he knows just as well as his own.

"James," you hiccup this time.

"Sweetheart, you okay?" he frets. His arm aches for him to get off of it. It shakes under his weight.

"Sorry." Your voice is half a messed-up syllable away from a slur. "Sorry for waking you up but I don't know what else to do."

He sits up off his cramped arm to swing himself over the edge of the bed. "What's the matter?"

"I'm a little lost," you say. James gets up to look for his shoes before he knows what he's doing. "I was out with everybody and I'm not sure where they went." This time he thinks you're definitely crying. He freaks even more.

He wedges his phone between his shoulder and his ear to squeeze his shoes on. He ignores the laces and shoves them on until his fingers sting. He doesn't care because all he can think about is you drunk and lost on some random corner.

"Do you have any idea where you are?" he asks and ignores the anger that starts to swell in his stomach. This isn't the first time your friends have ditched you but he's sure it'll be the last.

"The Commercial Hotel," you ramble off. He can hear you trying to hold your breath to hold back your bouts of sobbing tears. He wants to find your friends and give them a mouthful but he'd rather you in his arms instead.

"Right, well stay there, sweetheart. Don't move, I'll be there as soon as possible," he promises, keeping the phone to his ear the whole time.

It takes James less than five minutes to get to the hotel. If he wasn't so worried about you, he'd call Sirius to brag. He pulls up and finds you up ahead in the gutter. He forgets about everything other than you.

You've got your head in your knees and you don't notice him. He catches where your sparkly dress is riding up your thighs and his stomach twists. He's thankful he got here when he did.

He crouches down and can hear your cries. "Sweetheart," he says. The ground is cold and it smells awful. He really wants you up and in his car.

You lift your head from your knees and sniffle. Your makeup is smudged and your lips are stained pink. You're an image, despite how upset you seem.

"Jamie." You try to crack a smile and fail. You really are happy to see him but the feeling of being abandoned overrules everything.

James encourages your face away from your shoulder and pushes his fingers into your hair. He wipes away the dampness from your cheeks with his palm and frowns. "Can you stand for me, lovely?"

"They left me," you mope, closing your eyes. The last of your tears drop down from your eyes and bunch your sticky eyelashes into triangles. James desperately wants to kiss them away.

"I know, angel. They're awful," he says and tries to keep the harsh tone from his words. You wrinkle your face because he's an awful tell.

"What does that say about me?" you mumble and try to pull your face from his hand. James stands and outstretches his arms for you to grab onto.

"Nothing," he grumbles, "You're nothing like them."

With shaky hands and even shakier legs, you let him help you onto your bare feet and try to ignore the spinning in your head and the tightness in your stomach.

You tip forward and James stables you with a hand on your shoulder and an arm around your back. "Hey," he says firmly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," you say, biting down into your bottom lip, "Sorry. Just really wanna go home."

"C'mon, then, lovely," he smiles, bending down to pick your heels up where you'd thrown them into the gutter.

He straps you into the passenger seat of his car and worries for a moment you might throw up all over his dash. He finds a bottle of water in his footwell and puts it in your lap, hoping for the best.

The entire drive home, much longer than the way over, he can tell you're trying to talk to him. Trying your best to sound thankful for your helpful boyfriend when all you want to do is fall asleep.

When he manages to wrangle you into his bed. After you tripped in his driveway, and in his sitting room. He worried you were going to throw up twice before he changed you into a pair of pyjamas and got you under the covers with a bowl on floor.

You're almost asleep when you say, "Thank you, Jamie," quietly. Sheets pulled up to your chin.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Get some sleep, yeah?"

You manage to convince him to get into bed with you before he can even manage to make a bed on the floor. Almost sleeping until the sun comes up before your hangover ruins it for you.

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feriose · 1 day

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𝐔𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary — you come home upset, to a lovely james.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, sad!reader, hurt/comfort, very short! was really just projecting when I had a bad day the other day

word count — 790

James knows your usual routine when you get home. He’s tuned to every sound; can tell what you’re doing from the other side of your flat.

The clatter of your keys in the mosaic dish at the door, your shoes being kicked under the rack, usually with little care. If it’s cold, he’ll hear the ruffle of your coat being hung up or the shake of your umbrella outside.

If James is lucky, he’ll hear you humming a tune. Whether it be a song you listened to on your way home or an ad you watched this morning over your shared breakfast. Whatever it usually is, James loves it. Thinks it’s quite adorable in his own lovesick opinion.

Though when he hears the door open on this rainy, Tuesday afternoon, he hears none of that. If you hadn’t messaged him that you��d be home soon, he’d expect it to be an intruder.

If James listens closely enough, he’s sure he can hear sniffling. Wet and sad. He’s up from his spot at the kitchen counter immediately. Padding towards your room when he hears the door click shut behind you. He doesn't even hear you call out a Hello, James! So he knows something's wrong. Not that he'd ever expect much from you when you get home from work - it's just routine by now.

He knocks, followed by a light call of your name. He doesn't hear you respond, still, he opens up the door. He peeks around to find you sprawled across your shared, made bed, face down in the pillows. If he wasn't wearing his glasses, he wouldn't catch the slight shake of your back.

"Sweetheart?" he asks quietly, socks digging into the soft carpet as he makes his way over to the side of the bed, "You all right?"

"James," you murmur into the plush of your pillow, barely to be heard when you push your head further down.

The crack in your voice has the same effect on his heart, "What's up?"

When he finally sits down, right by your shoulders, you look up and he clocks your red and puffy eyes, the slight pout your lip gives, "James," you repeat just as sad as the last. Maybe worse.

"Hey," he coos, hand coming up to palm the corded muscle of your shoulder. Concern warps his features and he thinks if doesn't find out the source of your grievance in the next minute he might throw up.

You sit up a little, holding yourself up on a shaky arm, using your hand to cruelly wipe at your cheeks. Sniffling and hiccuping into your palm.

Frowning, James takes your hands into one of his and encourages you to sit up, using the other to stable you on your back.

You kick your feet out over the edge and bring your chin to your chest, "M'sorry." you clear your throat, trying to compose yourself, "Had an awful day."

"Oh, sweetheart," he coos sympathetically, helping you into his side when he wraps an arm over your shoulders. Giving you, what he hopes, is a reassuring squeeze.

"Horrible day," you affirm, pressing your nose into his chest. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, holding on tightly.

James presses his chin into the top of your head when he says, "Wanna talk about it?"

Your nose rubs over his pec when you shake your head, humming a no.

"Okay," James says, moving to kiss you over your hair. Agreement all mumbled.

Your shoulders tense less when he's kissing you more, though not relaxed enough in James' opinion. "Do I need to practice my right hook on anyone?''

"My boss," you laugh weakly.

James tenses, "Really?" He angles his head down to catch your face. The tears have stopped, but you still look awfully sad.

"No, you're punching skills are fine." There's the barest smile there, "We don't need a repeat of New Year's"

James chuckles knowingly, "Hey, in my defence-"

"He was a dickhead."

"He was a dickhead!"

"He was," you agree. He'd said something horrible about Remus, and James had punched him square in the jaw. He'd complained about his bruised knuckles for a week. You giggle at the memory.

"God, I love that," James groans.

"What?"

"That laugh." He squeezes you more until your face is closer to his.

You hide yourself in his shoulder, flushed face now only warm because James is a charmer. Not because you'd cried up a storm.

"Do you wanna have a shower?" James offers, stroking up the length of your back.

"Only if you're joining me." You look up and press your nose into his chin, over the scratch of his light stubble.

"That's expected now, lovely,"

You giggle, "How assuming of you, Potter."

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feriose · 3 days

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feriose · 3 days

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Okay listen I have another disability related thing that’s important!!

If you have any disabilities linked to tooth decay/erosion, through direct cause or secondary symptom, it is vital that you get one or both of the following items: Sensodyne toothpaste and enamel repair mouthwash

This includes health conditions such as acid reflux, diabetes, thyroid conditions, fibromyalgia, chronic pain & mental illnesses such as depression that create poor hygiene routines, sensory issue disorders like autism and ADHD, and any health condition that causes frequent vomiting / increased stomach acid, including eating disorders and migraines.

All of these disabilities will erode the enamel of your teeth, not only opening you up to cavities but making it very easy to chip your teeth from such simple things as biting the wrong way on the tines of a fork. (I’ve chipped my teeth at least 4 times this way).

The toothpaste on the left here (sensodyne pronamel) is gentle on your teeth, won’t cause painful sensations from any extreme mint flavor, and will even protect your gums if they’re sensitive from any of these conditions.

The mouthwash on the right (Crest enamel repair) will, as it says, repair your enamel — which is marvelous, because the technology to repair your enamel at all is relatively very new to society! — but it is most importantly non-alcoholic. Meaning that it works well as a once-a-day rinse without any of the burning sensations of antiseptics that typically discourage people with sensory issues from taking care of their teeth.

I know remembering to do these things every day can feel like a lot when you’re sick and exhausted, but I promise a collective three minutes out of every day is going to save you an incredible amount of pain and money in the future. If your teeth are susceptible enough to rot, you can actually die from infection. And as they say, with how little insurance actually covers dental —

Not brushing your teeth??

In THIS economy???

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feriose · 4 days

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could i request poly!marauders with reader who has trouble sleeping/insomnia pls? it’s so frustrating not being able to sleep and seeing everyone sleeping and then having a raging head and being exhausted throughout the days,,, just want someone to make the nights a little less stressful :((

Sorry for the long wait sweetness! Thanks for requesting

modern au

poly!marauderes x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You want desperately to know what time it is. With the blackout curtains covering the windows and the digital clock stowed away in the drawer of the nightstand, it’s impossible to guess whether the sun is rising outside or if it’s only an hour past when you went to bed. You honestly have no idea. It feels like you’ve been lying here for an eternity, willing yourself to relax, but in your experience it’s equally likely that ten minutes have gone by.

It’s that much worse with your boyfriends snoozing all around you. You envy Sirius’ open-mouthed snore. You feel trapped. You want to be sleeping with them but you can’t, so you want them to be awake with you, but waking them would be cruel. When you’d first gone to bed James had held you up against him, but it hadn’t taken long after he’d fallen asleep for him to roll over, unconsciously abandoning you between his and Remus’ backsides. Remus is a light enough sleeper that you know he’ll wake if you try to get out of bed, so you’re stuck here, staring into the formless black of your room, not knowing how much longer you have to endure it.

Eventually you sit up on your elbow, reaching over Remus to check the time on your phone. Your hand is arrested just above the nightstand.

“What,” Remus’ voice is croaky. “What’re you doing?”

You don’t answer, knowing an honest one will only earn you a scolding. Remus rolls over and takes you hand with him. You can just barely see the outline of his head in the darkness, but you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face.

“You know it’s only going to make things worse,” he says quietly.

“It's worse not knowing,” you whisper.

Remus sighs, rubbing his thumb into the meat of your palm. Some of your apprehension eases just from having him awake with you. “I’m sorry, sweet girl.” His voice is barely a murmur, but you can feel James starting to stir at your back. “I still think we have to try what the doctor said for now, okay?”

He pushes his warm palm flat against yours, coaxing a small “okay” out of you.

“I can stay up with you.”

“No,” you say, despite the selfish voice in your head going Yes!. Remus needs more sleep than the rest of you to begin with, and you’re more accustomed to going without it than he is. “That’s okay, you should sleep.”

You’re bracing yourself for his denial when James rolls over behind you, one big arm wrapping around your front.

“Hey,” he slurs, “where’d you go?”

You smother a laugh and Remus makes a similarly amused sound, likely guessing what had really happened. He reaches the hand not holding yours over your head to pet James’ hair.

“I didn’t go anywhere,” you say softly.

“Stay put this time, hm?” James replies fondly, giving your middle a squeeze. “Y’supposed to be on cuddle duty.”

This time you can’t suppress it, and a little giggle escapes you. “Sorry,” you say.

Remus hums in gentled remonstrance, you’re not sure at whom.

“You’re all being terribly loud,” Sirius groans, and then there’s a shape leering over James’ head, doubtlessly glowering down at the three of you. “Why are we awake?”

“Someone couldn’t sleep,” Remus murmurs.

Sirius makes a whiny pitying sound, reaching over James to paw blindly at you. You inhale when his perpetually freezing fingers fumble at your collarbone. James saves you, clasping Sirius’ hand in his own.

“What else is new,” you try to joke. It comes out sounding more glum than you’d like. “Sorry I woke you guys.”

“No, don’t be, angel.” James’ hand finds its way underneath your sleep shirt, thumb stroking the skin just above your navel. “We’d rather be awake with you anyway.”

Sirius makes a sound like he could disagree, but his slender fingers burrow into your hair, scratching lightly at your scalp the way he knows you like. You bear the cold for his sake.

“There’s no point in us all being awake,” you say, though you’re nearly purring from all the loving. “S’not your problem.”

Sirius tsks. “We’ve been over this, doll. Your problems are ours, too.”

You hum like Yeah, I know. Sirius takes in a breath like he might say more, but Remus comes to your rescue.

“Do you want one of us to rub your back, dove?”

That sounds amazing, actually. But you’re not sure if it’ll help, and you don’t want to put your boyfriends to work if there’s no promise it’ll do anything. “That’s okay,” you say.

“No, come on.” James is already turning you in his arms. He cozies up to your front, big palm splayed out over your back. “We’re supposed to get you relaxed, right?”

You nod, and his chest feels warm against your cheek. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep, though.”

“That’s okay,” he replies readily. “Let’s just give it a try, yeah?”

You hum, acquiescence inlaid with guilt. From behind James, you hear Sirius chide you quietly (“Stop that”) and you know he’s heard it. James likely does too, but he ignores it, big palm beginning to move in broad, slow circles on your back. You try to help as best you can, relaxing into his hold and shutting your eyes. Even so, you grow tenser with frustration the longer it doesn’t work.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” Remus murmurs behind you. His words brush over your nape like a caress. “Relax. Listen to his heartbeat.”

You nestle your face closer to James’ chest, and he increases the pressure on your back as if to keep you there. You can hear the steady bump-bump of his heart as well as feel it against your cheek, and something about it has a tranquilizing effect on your own. It creates a beat to match the rhythm of his hand gliding along your back, steady and unwavering. You can hear your own breathing matching up to his, Remus’ too. Distantly, you become aware that Sirius is snoring again, but the thought dissipates half-formed. Your limbs feel warm and soft as wax.

You don’t notice James moving until his lips come down on the top of your head, his palm still wearing its same track into your back. “Love you,” he says.

You think you echo the sentiment, but you’re too far gone to know for sure.

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feriose · 21 days

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feriose · 21 days

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headcanon incoming

Gale Dekarios was 1000% the bored, severely under-challenged gifted kid who, if he didn't skip class, then either slept, daydreamed, or notebook-doodled his way through it. He'd rock up on exam day, finish in half the time of the next-fastest student, and unsurprisingly would also score the highest.

I base this contention on the following:

While you're wandering around the crèche, he mentions regretting skipping class the day they were supposed to talk about tir'su script.

After he disables Balthazar's Shadow magic circle in Moonrise (not sure if this dialogue also pops if you have him make the shadowlantern weapon), he says "Not bad for a wizard who slept through his Calishite lessons, eh?" AS A PROFESSOR WHO'S TAUGHT ANCIENT LANGUAGES, I AM SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU, GALE.

Most of his stories about his apprenticeship at Blackstaff aren't about classes, fascinating lectures, or the things he learned, they're about stealing powerful magical staves and drinking.

This devnote from the epilogue:

[In reference to the Weave lesson. Also, in another branch of this tree, a devnote confirms that the lesson was a vulnerable moment for him and he's bashful about admitting that s;lksdjsd] Gale: 'Teaching' you was hardly an effort at all. Not like my present cohort of apprentices. Gale: They try their best of course - when they can manage to stay awake. [NodeContext: Not upset by this - he slept through his fair share of classes as a student.]

Don't get me wrong, he would absolutely show up for something he found interesting, and he'd spend plenty of time pursuing his own projects and independent research, but if it was something he knew or had mastered on his own (i.e. most of the curriculum)? No way--he was either in the library or in trouble. He probably sent his simulacrum to class to take notes for him.

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feriose · 21 days

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