thewriterghost

[thewriterghost]

this is the poly!moonwater request and yes!! that is what i was referencing.

link to original request here; thanks for the ask!

concept: hi! can you possibly do a little thing of barty and reader and she finally agrees to "run away and start a new life" with him but it's like a cute little vacation while remus and regulus are out of town for something ? [502 words] starring: fem!reader, Barty Crouch Jr featuring: Evan Rosier, Rome Lupin, Soleil Lupin based off of: pt 1 -> pt 2 -> pt3 -> pt4 -> pt5

CW: technically a poly!moonwater ficlet but neither boy make an appearance hahaha

Barty lowers himself down onto the daybed with a languorous sigh, smiling at the clear blue skies as he rests his head on his intertwined hands; the picture of serenity in his neon pink speedo he wore in order to lean into his ‘new European lifestyle’. 

“You know, tres, I’m so glad you finally agreed to do this with me.” 

You let your book fall into your lap though you keep your page saved, stealing a quick glance at your girls playing in the sand before you shoot Barty a look from the rim of  your sunglasses. 

“What exactly is this that you’re glad I agreed to, Bee?”

He turns to look at you with a bemused smile as though he thinks you barmy for forgetting already. 

“Uhm, for running away and starting a new life with me, obviously?” 

Rome squeals in delight at something Evan has done or said, but his signature frown is back on his face by the time you turn your attention to him. 

“Barty, we’re staying at Regulus’ vacation home.” You admonish with no heat. He scoffs at you.

“For now, treasure. I’m obviously going to find the perfect place for my best girls.” 

You roll your eyes with a shake of your head. “Your actual boyfriend is here.” You tell him, nodding to where the brooding man is sitting in the sand like a barricade between your daughters and the gently lapping waves of the ocean. He splits his time between scowling at anyone and anything that comes too close to them and beaming down at Rome and Soleil to say “you’re doing brilliant on the castle, girls. Smashing job” before he’s back to scowling. 

“He’s the live-in nanny, treasure.” Barty drawls like he’s appeasing his ailing grandmother who has just asked if he’s going to give her great grandchildren before she dies. 

“You really do make up your own version of reality, eh?”

Barty simply smiles and returns to his reclining, clearly of the mind that anyone who doesn’t is barmy. 

As it was, Regulus had a few things to wrap up at the Ministry before being able to join the lot of you on holiday, so instead of making you and the girls wait for him, he opted to join you when he could; Remus decided to stay behind with Regulus since you had plenty of help with Barty and Evan.

You couldn’t deny it was nice to be able to catch some rays and get through a few chapters of your book without having to entertain the girls, but other times…

“Y/N.” Evan’s suddenly standing in front of you with his hands clasped behind his back, both girls standing behind him in matching poses; the picture of innocence. “We were wondering, since we’ve been so good today, if we could go get ice cream.” A tiny elbow jabs him in the hip. “Please.” 

…other times, it felt like you’d gone to the South of France – alone – with four toddlers instead of two.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[thewriterghost]

Dude, I read the one where you talked about pregnant reader and you said it'll be a cute fic.... are you really gonna write it!!? Poly moonwater with pregnant reader!?? Will you? Will you? Will you!!?? Please, will you!!!!!???

well.....since you asked so nicely........👀

poly!moonwater x afab fem!reader who finds out she's expecting

CW: mentions of pregnancy, how people get pregnant (nothing discussed in detail, SFW and minors), reader is concerned the boys will leave her, reader wishes to keep the pregnancy, based off a discussion on this post.

Now that you knew, you weren’t sure how you could honestly feel surprised. In fact, now you were kind of surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner. 

For all the claims that wizardingkind makes to be ahead of the curve in comparison to muggles, they don’t exactly have the best contraceptives. 

Potions are fine if you remember to take them, the same can be said about charms, and condoms are a foreign concept to the likes of wizarding society.

You’d been feeling so incredibly exhausted lately, and it had gotten to the point that you couldn’t make it through the day without having at least one nap. It was when you’d actually fallen asleep at the dinner table that Regulus started to fret, though Remus found it terribly funny at the time. 

Then came the aches and pains that never seemed to dull no matter what you did. You’d tried potions, over the counter muggle medications, hot baths, cold showers, lying flat, sitting up – nothing stopped the aches that seemed intent on plaguing you. Remus had even given you full body massages that, whilst absolutely heavenly, did absolutely fuck all. 

“Maybe you’re coming down with something?” He’d queried, holding the back of his hand to your head. “Reg? Can you bring me the thermometer?”

You swore you heard whatever Regulus had been fussing with in the kitchen fall unceremoniously onto the counter in his haste to come over to you.

“Why? Is she poorly?” He asked severely, placing the back of his hand against your head like Remus had, only far more aggressively and to the point that it actually made a slapping sound as it made contact.

“Och, babe! If she wasn’t poorly yet she’ll surely have a concussion now!” Remus chided, pushing Regulus’ hand away and cradling your head protectively to his chest.

Needless to say, the thermometer didn’t pick up a fever either. 

So, when you woke up the next morning and spent most of the day hunched over the toilet bowl, Reg insisted you see a Healer.

Once the Healer started to ask the more...pointed questions, the pieces all started to click together in your mind.

Are you sexually active? Yes.

When was your last menstrual cycle? They weren’t exactly regular so... you supposed it had been late.

Any nausea? Yes.

Fatigue. Uh-huh.

Body or muscle pain? Fuckin’ hells.

So now you were standing outside of yours, Remus', and Regulus’ shared flat with a copy of your test results in your hand wondering what in the buggering fuck you were going to do now.

Both Regulus and Remus were pretty set on not wanting children of their own. They loved children, and they were both really good with children (in their own, very different ways); but with Regulus’ past, his family's reputation, and “the sodding inbreeding, amour; I’d be surprised if it didn’t come out with everything upside down and backwards”, he was sure that it’d be better for everyone if he stayed childless.

And Remus.

Poor, sweet Remus.

Too ashamed of his own affliction to a) pass it onto his own biological child or b) force any child to live with the knowledge that they had a ‘monster’ for a father.

And that was that.

Children just wasn’t in the cards for you three.

Yet here you were...

Suddenly, you weren’t just worried; you were terrified.

They didn’t want this, they never wanted this. They had always been clear about that. They could have been more careful to prevent this, but here you were.

Here you were.

There you stood; outside of your shared flat, unable to bring yourself to open the door.

They were going to leave you; they’d leave you, surely. Yeah?

They didn’t want this.

They wouldn’t want you. 

Fuck.

“For the love of Circe, I’m jus- Salazar’s saggy balls, Y/N!” Regulus said as he stumbled in the doorway, startled after having been in the middle of shouting something over his shoulder only to nearly collide with you. “How long have you been standing out here?”

You stared dumbly at him; you weren’t ready to go inside. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.

Too bad.

“Not long?” You stated in the form of a question. He furrowed his brows and looked you up and down before offering you his hand up the two steps to your doorway. 

“I was just opening the doors and windows; you’re lovely boyfriend tried to make us dinner.” He explained with a fond eyeroll, stepping into the flat and squinting through the smoke flooding the living space.

“Yeah, yeah. Last time I try something new in the kitchen.” Remus muttered as he threw away an entire baking dish.

“What was it supposed to be again, sweetheart?” Regulus asked with a mischievous smirk you knew he picked up from spending too much time with Remus, Sirius, and James.

“Just never you mind, you tosser. Hi dove.” He muttered to Regulus, though his tone changed dramatically once he turned to you, his eyes softening as he took in your form.

“How was your appointment?”

Your appointment? Your appointment. The appointment you just had. The appointment where you found out. The appointment where you were told you were pregnant. That appointment. The appointment you were still holding the slip for. The slip with your results. The slip with your pregnancy test results. The slip with your positive pregnancy test results.

That appointment.

“I-”

And you took off to the bathroom, slammed the door behind you and heaved into the toilet. 

There was a gentle knock on the door as you sat back against the tub with your knees to your chest, trying to catch your breath. “Dove?”

Another knock.

“Okay, we’re coming in.” Came Regulus’ more authoritarian voice through the door before it slowly opened to allow both of them entrance.

Remus had to fold himself a number of times in order to sit on the bathroom floor beside you whilst Reg flushed the toilet (while you flushed in embarrassment) and closed the lid to sit on it, facing you and Remus. 

“Did you get any answers from the healer?” Regulus asked quietly.

You smothered a humourless scoff and nodded your head in the affirmative. 

The boys let you sit there with your head laid back onto the edge of the tub and your eyes closed before Regulus couldn’t seem to handle it anymore.

“And? Are you... okay?”

You took in a deep breath and pulled that paper - now crumpled within your fist - cast a gemino duplication spell on it and handed one to each boy. 

You curled yourself inward and rested your forehead on your knees, reminding yourself to breathe even though you knew these two men now knew that you were expecting, that you were expecting their child. 

It could have been moments, or it could have been hours; but it was Remus who broke the silence.

“Pregnant?” He whispered on an exhale.

You cautiously raised your head to look over at him by your side, noticing that his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

You brought him to tears.

He never wanted this.

He wouldn’t want you.

“You’re really pregnant?” He asked again.

You nodded and swallowed around your gag reflex; unsure whether the nausea was nerves or...pregnancy related.

“You’re...” Reg started, still looking down at the paper in his hands. “You’re... gonna have a baby?” He whispered in awe.

You felt your brows furrow when you heard an emotional chuckle from beside you.

You turned back to see Remus wiping tears away from his eyes as he looked back down at his own paper in front of him.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” Remus corrected, nudging Regulus’ calf with his foot.

“Wait, you... you guys aren’t upset?” You asked urgently. Both boys snapped to attention to look at you in various degrees of worry or horror.

“Upset!?” Remus gawked as Regulus started shaking his head emphatically.

“Why? Why would you be worried of such a thing?”

You shook your own head and looked down at your hands as you began picking at your nailbeds. “Neither of you were ever interested in having kids of your own.” 

“Oh, dovey.” Remus cooed and quickly pulled you into his side. “When was the last time we talked about this, huh? When we first graduated Hogwarts? I think we could manage a kid now, yeah?”

“Or four.” Regulus added, causing you and Remus to straighten up significantly.

“Four!?” You and Remus chorused.

“Since when did you want kids?” You questioned incredulously.

“The moment I saw you hold Harry for the first time.” He answered without hesitation. 

“Ha ha.” Remus taunted. “Mine was watching her shop for Lily’s baby shower.” 

“What!?” You nearly screeched.

Regulus sighed before ultimately moving to sit on the floor on your other side; you knew this was very serious considering he was a notorious germ freak. 

“I was always a little afraid of having kids of my own, you’re right. I mean, you’ve seen the way that Sirius and I turned out, yeah?”

You and Remus scoffed at that.

“I just hated the idea of ever being anything like my parents, because that’s all I know. Or I guess, that was all I knew. But... I think you guys have taught me an awful lot.”

You watched Regulus’ stormy grey eyes as they moved between you and Remus. “You’ve both taught me to slow down, to be more patient, to see the fun in the mess and the burnt food and the change of plans. You’ve taught me that I won’t perish if I sit on the bathroom floor for a minute. And, I think most importantly, you’ve taught me how to love. And when I see how happy Harry is, I realize that’s all a kid really needs, yeah? Love?”

“You... you really want a child? This child?” You asked in a whisper.

Regulus’s face turned heartbroken for a moment. “You’re child? Absolutely, amour. There was never any doubt.”

“I always thought I’d pass on only the worst parts of me to any child.” Remus added, turning your attention to him. “But I find I’m only ever my best self when I’m around the two of you. And any child that’s even a fraction of either of you, well, I’d be one... one lucky man to call them mine.” He whimpered the end of his sentence before breaking out into a sob.

“Oh, Rem.” You murmured empathetically, pulling his larger frame into your side. He chuckled through happy tears as he moved one of his hands tentatively to your abdomen.

“A baby...” Regulus breathed, looking back at the paper in his hands. “We’re really going to have a baby?”

You and Remus exchanged a shy glance, understanding seeming to pass between the two of you before you both turned back to Regulus.

“We’re going to have a baby.” You concurred. 

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[thewriterghost]

Check out my ongoing comic Crow Time. It has crows, and also neat pantheons of epic beasties.

[thewriterghost]

My harsh driving teacher just told me i started to not tire her, and I don't know if I should be happy about that or if i should be offended.

Fyi, I wasn't even bad the whole time, I only accidentally stopped the car when I was parking and something happened while pressing the clutch.

[thewriterghost]

I bought a bunch of stickers and a nice notebook to make a scrapbook and last night I finally made a page, only to realize that I need different sets of stickers because ✨inspiration✨ and I feel like I'm sinking into this rabbit hole deeper 🫠

Would getting a tablet and using it as a scrapbook be too ridiculous? Because I could've just gotten the pictures and slap them together ✨virtually✨

[thewriterghost]

hi mae !

not sure if i've requested this before or not, so bear with me haha. my memory is a bit fuzzy.

i struggle deeply with my mental health and have been hospitalized twice over it. things have been thankfully looking up since my second hospitalization but i still have days/moments where the world feels like it's crumbling.

just looking to see if you'd be comfortable writing poly!marauders comforting a reader who might've been recently hospitalized or has trouble adjusting to life after deciding to work on taking care of herself. (for example, getting into regular daily routine like eating/basic hygiene is so weird after ignoring it for so long !)

maybe some crying and just fluff. your poly!marauders is really so special to me and i hold it close to my heart.

no worries if you're not comfortable writing this :)

xoxo

Thank you for your request angel <3

cw: the circumstances are vague but its implied that reader has trouble taking care of herself, some insecurity around self-sufficiency and around poor hygiene

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

It’s rare for you and James to be the last out of bed. In fairness, you think he’s only here to entice you out. James has already gone and come back, with strawberries which Remus is using to make you all muffins. He’s mincing and measuring and mixing laboriously in your kitchen. Sirius loves you all more than he pretends, because he dragged himself out of bed at the thought that Remus might be lonely, and now you can hear the low sounds of their lovesick murmuring from down the hall. James took off his clothes to get back under the covers with you and seems to be sneakily trying to tickle you awake with his mouth underneath your jaw. You refuse to open your eyes. 

“You’re so awake,” says James. 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re so, so awake.” He buzzes his lips against your skin. You have to bite down on your lower lip. “And you’re laughing.” 

“I am not.” 

“You want to.” James kisses the spot before ending your torment, pressing a kiss to your lips as well. “What’re you thinking about, lovely?” 

You hum, contemplative. “I’m thinking that we need to get Remus a proper mixer.” 

“We really do.” He rests his face in your neck again. “I do like watching him stir, though. It makes his forearms look really…well, you know.” 

“That’s not a good enough reason to force labor on him,” you say, though you do know and are selfishly inclined to agree. 

“No, you’re right,” James sighs. It fans warmly over your skin. “Hey, can I ask you something without it being, like, a thing?” 

Your eyes open now, though you can’t really see him where he’s tucked beneath your chin. “Yeah,” you say cautiously. 

“It’s not a big deal. I just don’t want you to be embarrassed. It’s not embarrassing, but I don’t want you to think that I think it is, if that makes sense.” 

“Okay…” 

“I think you’re lovely, you know that, right? So, it doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not a criticism.” James is rambling now, nervously, and you’re growing nervous along with him. “I just don’t want to keep things from you, because, well, sometimes you have to ask people you love strange things, you know? But that doesn’t make them mean anything more than they really do.” 

“James,” you cut him off. You feel him stop breathing, a stillness beside your neck. “What is it?” 

“Okay, sorry.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. “I’m just wondering, have you showered lately?” 

It takes you a second. Half of one, really, and then you’re covering your face with your hands, turning away from your boyfriend in mortification. 

“Hey, hey.” James wraps a hand around your hip, keeping you close. “Angel, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Oh my god,” you moan into your hands. Your face feels roaring hot. “I just—I forgot. Like, I forgot I even have to.” 

“I know, lovely. It’s a lot to keep track of, yeah? It is, and that’s why I thought I’d mention it to you. Not because it’s a problem, just because I thought you might not have remembered.” 

It’s not a lot to keep track of, though. It shouldn’t be. Your boyfriends cope with it all just fine, eating and washing themselves and exercising and managing to keep tabs on you on top of all of it. You don’t understand why it seems so much harder for you than for everyone else. 

James can tell you’re about to cry. He makes a soft, doting noise, hugging you as best he can and pressing his cheek to where your hand covers your face.

“It’s okay,” he promises you. “It really is.”

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize. What do you have to be sorry for?” 

“I must smell.” 

“You don’t—” James starts to laugh, choking it off quickly. “You don’t smell. I didn’t ask you because you smell, I just asked because I realized I didn’t think I remembered you showering the last few days. You’re fine, okay, look.” 

Though you can’t see him, you’re aware of movement, and suddenly very aware that James’ face is in your armpit. It’s brief, no more than the time it takes your body to seize up in horror, and then he’s back above you. Your hands have fallen away from your face in shock. 

“Yeah,” he says definitively, “you’re good.” 

“James!” Your tone wavers between dismay and a delighted sort of fondness, which is a decent measure of the rest of you. 

“You’re fine, my love,” he says, and there’s nothing wavering about James’ earnestness. He rubs up and down your side lovingly. “It doesn’t matter. Please don’t be upset, okay?”

You’re still blinking up at him, trying to get your emotions in order, when Sirius comes trudging down the hall. He has a throw from the sitting room around his shoulders and a telling bit of strawberry muffin batter smeared on the side of his nose. 

“James, if you want orange juice, you’re going to have to squeeze it yourself, because—” He falters as he enters, taking in your wet eyes and James’ conciliating hand on your middle. “What’s wrong? What’ve you done to her?” 

The last part is said in jest—it’s usually a safe assumption that James is the last person who would upset any of you—but your boyfriend’s expression turns so terribly guilty that Sirius looks like he regrets the joke. He squeezes James’ arm as he clambers onto the bed with you two, a furrow between his brows. 

“What?” he asks again. 

You sigh and decide to make light of it. “I stink.” 

Sirius’ frown worsens at this. Then, quick as anything, he casually bends and sticks his nose in your armpit, sniffing. You feel your eyes pop. 

“No, you don’t,” he says. 

“What is with you two?”

“Why would you think that you stink?” Sirius asks. His forefinger brushes underneath your lashes, collecting the lingering moisture like he just can’t abide it. “Not that I would mind if you did, of course, but it’s an odd thing to fixate on with no evidence.” 

“I told her she doesn’t,” James says, slumping down onto your chest. He seems happy to share in the labor explaining this to you. “It’s only been a little while since she showered, but now she’s worried she’s disgusting.” 

“Why would you wonder if I’d showered if I didn’t smell?” you ask. 

“Oh.” Sirius nods, as though this now all makes sense. “Because he’s obsessed with you, obviously. We all are. You think I don’t know how many times this week James has been to the gym?” 

James’ eyebrows lift. “Now, why are you keeping track of that?” 

But you only frown, because, actually, you knew that too. But that’s not difficult to keep track of. It’s always plain when you get up in the morning and there’s a half-finished protein shake on the counter, James’ bag missing from its spot by the door. 

“Or are you trying to tell me you don’t know how far Remus is through his puzzle?” 

You shake your head. “It’s on the coffee table, I can see it.” 

“Right,” says Sirius, “but we notice those things because we love them. So James didn’t have to smell you to know you hadn’t showered. He just noticed.”

Your gaze slinks back to James, shame a worm eating away at your middle. “I’m sorry that you notice and I don’t.” 

“Sweetheart, you only forgot,” James says gently. “I don’t mind. You’re doing your best, yeah?” 

You worry your lip. It doesn’t seem like it can be your best, if everyone else manages it as their baseline. Sirius tsks and takes your hand, tugging you up and James with you. 

“You are.” He mushes a kiss to your temple as he drags you out of bed. “I can tell. We all slip up sometimes, baby, it’s fine. There’s no sense in agonizing over it. Come have breakfast.” 

The smell wafting from the kitchen is warm and sweet. Remus’ muffins are still in the oven, and he allows James to kiss him good morning only thrice before begging off and letting the James stay with his arms around his middle. 

“Are they tormenting you?” Remus murmurs, plainly amused by James’ uncharacteristic pouting.

“Yes.” James hugs Remus tighter, nuzzling his throat with entirely characteristic clinginess. “Save me from them, please.” 

“He tormented her first,” says Sirius. 

“I didn’t mean to,” James laments. 

Remus clicks his tongue, still holding James but looking to you. You shrug. “He delivered a hard truth,” you say, “but they both stuck their faces in my armpits, which was worse than anything.” 

“Oh.” Remus appears appropriately thrown by this information. “Yeah, that’s…why?” 

“Shut up, you liked it.” Sirius squeezes you meanly. “Don’t listen to her, Moony. I’d sniff your armpit, too.”  

“I’m alright,” Remus says cautiously. “I don’t really see why you would have to, either?” 

“Circumstances arise,” James mumbles into his front. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

[thewriterghost]

Hi Mae! I’ve been rapidly consuming and hyper fixating on Black Sails recently and therefore cannot get pirate!sirius out of my heeeeaaad.

May I request a pirate!sirius x pirate!reader drabble please 🙏🏻😫

Thank you for your request angel! I've not seen black sails so idk if these vibes are similar but it was fun! And thanks for being so so patient haha <3

cw: knife, violence/fighting in background but it's over quickly and no casualties are mentioned, blood mention because reader is hurt, fear of abandonment

pirate!Sirius x pirate!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Your lungs are thick with gunsmoke. Around you is a cacophony of shouts and the clanging of metal on metal, sea air and blood mix on your tongue, and on your legs sits the full weight of a grown man. 

You reach for the sword he tossed away from you moments ago, bucking your hips in an attempt to dislodge him. The other pirate grins. It’s a wild sort of look, one that makes your heart jump in both fear and recognition—the feral joy of a good fight. 

You both pause when one shout rises above all the others: your captain’s call for a retreat. 

Instantly, you start fighting even harder than before, but just as quickly the pirate on top of you has a knife pressed to your throat. 

“Easy,” he purrs, watching smugly as you stop thrashing. “Don’t want to have to use this.” 

“Why didn’t you before?” you ask. 

He tilts his head from side to side in a careless gesture. The cool edge of the knife remains steady beneath your chin. “Didn’t want to end the fun so soon, I suppose.” 

Oh, he is feral. Most pirates are, you suppose, but there’s a sort of wicked cleverness in this boy’s face that usually you find washed away by sun exposure and the humdrum of months at sea. Pirates get bored, and they grow tired, and they drudge along through fights and explorations but really the only thing that awakens them is a profit to bring to land. But this one—his dark hair swirls around him, unkept and unbound, like he delights in the wildness given to it by the salty air. His eyes are the same grey-blue as the sea during a storm, equal parts foreboding and alluring. He looks more like a siren than a shipmate.

“You didn’t have any qualms about breaking my nose,” you say bitterly. 

Another insouciant shrug. “Right, I might be sorry about that, but you did pull my hair. Shouldn’t have done that.” 

“You shouldn’t have kicked my sword!” 

“You shouldn’t have pointed it at me.” He grins, knee digging into your thigh when you try to move. “Call it even?” 

No, not really—you’re still the one with the broken nose—but that quickly becomes less of a concern when you see the final few of your crew grabbing ropes to swing back across to your ship. Even with the knife biting into your throat, you begin struggling again. 

“Let me go.” 

The pirate arches an eyebrow. “Oh, darling, is it your first day? Surely you know that’s not how this works.” 

It’s not your first day actually, but you’d hoped—well, you’d thought—those who ride under the flag of the Phoenix are said to play by different rules than most other pirates. Amongst the unforgiving mayhem of seafare, they’re regarded as almost ethical. They only target the ships of powerful governments and syndicates, those who already have in abundance, they distribute their own abundance amongst the peoples at wherever they dock, and they don’t kill unless necessary. Some see it as noble. Others, weak-willed. It’s why you’re here, why your captain was so sure the Phoenix would be an easy mark. Evidently, your captain was wrong. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, near desperate. When you look around the deck, you see no more of your own. Only the unfamiliar faces of the Phoenix crew, picking up discarded weapons and keeping a wary eye on where your shipmates are surely beginning their retreat. They don’t even realize they’ve left you. “Do you want me to beg?” 

Your captor’s eyes warm with amusement. He tilts his head. “Would you? Beg?”

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t know, I might like it. Feel free to give it a go.” 

Your eyes dart again to the side. From your position on the deck, you can see the colors of your ship’s flag beginning to move away. “You have to let me go. Just let me go now, it’s not too late. I’ll swim to them. They need me, my crew—” 

You cut yourself off when you realize what you’ve said, but the pirate atop you has already heard it. His eyes glint. 

“Your crew?” he asks, interest palpable. “My, you are interesting, aren’t you? What do I have here, a quartermaster? A first mate?” 

You press your lips shut. 

He tuts. “Well, I hope you can understand why this is even greater incentive to keep you. Once they realize you’re gone, your crew will come back, and perhaps we can negotiate the return of some of our merchandise, yeah?” He stops pinning your shoulder to the ground to give your cheek a pat. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I’m sure you won’t be stuck with us for long.” 

You stare him down furiously, but he only keeps jabbering on like you’re enjoying friendly repartee. 

“I suppose since we are going to be spending a bit of time together, we may as well get acquainted. I’m Sirius. What’s your name?” 

You don’t so much as blink. 

Sirius actually rolls his eyes at you. You try to seize the opportunity to grab for his wrist, but as soon as your fingers wrap around his forearm the knife is pressing more menacingly against your throat. You stop breathing. 

“Now, as soon as you’re ready to behave,” he says smoothly, “we can see about getting your nose fixed. Maybe there’ll even be time for a meal before your captain works up the chops to circle back. It’s my brother’s birthday, so there’ll be cake.” You’ve gone nearly limp, even with the knife retreating a centimeter to allow you to breathe. Sirius’ head tilts. “Am I enticing you?”  

“What if they don’t?” you ask. 

“Don’t what?” 

“My crew.” You swallow, trying to keep the insecurity from your tone. “What if they don’t come back?” 

Sirius’ brows twitch towards each other. He doesn’t look sorry for you, exactly, more just…bemused. Like loyalty is so well known to him he can’t conceptualize its betrayal. 

“Well,” he says after a moment, “then that’d be their loss, obviously. You’d be more than welcome to stay here with us.” 

You feel yourself frown. “Really?” 

“Yeah, course.” Sirius seems to deem this a good time to retract his knife. He does it one centimeter at a time, watching you with those clever eyes, but you can’t seem to find it in you to fight anymore. You can’t see your ship’s flag anymore; it’s too far away to swim to. Your fate is in this crew’s hands now. “It’s not your fault if your captain’s a prick,” he says, only raising an unimpressed eyebrow when your lip curls instinctually at the insult. “We’ll take in anyone who wants to join and is willing to work. You might even find you prefer it here, with the Marauders.” 

“The Marauders,” you repeat, slowly. “Is that what you call yourselves?”

“That’s us.” 

“Bit on the nose, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, we’ve been informed the creativity was lacking with that one.” Sirius sticks his knife in his belt, sitting up and offering you his hand. You take it. “We can’t be good at everything, you know.”

[thewriterghost]

hi, i was wondering if for the new girl au you could write about reader going on a date? maybe the tinder thing worked and all the boys are fussing over her before she goes, and remus feels strangely protective of her but is too oblivious to know why? if not all good <333

Thank you for requesting angel!

cw: some french slander (mostly to fuck with Sirius)

Who’s That Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

You want to go straight to your room upon entering the flat, but first you need a snack. This is somewhat of a calculated sacrifice, because your whole way to the kitchen your flatmates stare at you like a zoo animal let out of its enclosure. Sirius has muted their film. 

“So,” says James after a moment, drawing out the o, “how was it?” 

“Bad,” you reply shortly. 

He makes a sound so disappointed you actually feel bad for him. You pivot with a bag of crisps in your hand to find James fully turned around on the sofa with his chin resting on his fist, pouting. 

“Well, don’t just stand there,” says Sirius. “Come, spill.” 

You sigh. “I’m tired.” 

“Too bad. You have to debrief with us, it’s in your lease agreement.” 

You give him a dry look. “Is it really.” 

Sirius mirrors you. “Read more carefully next time.” 

You heave another sigh, tearing open your crisps as you go to the end of the couch and curl up against the cushions. James immediately reaches into the bag for a handful. 

“Okay, so remind me,” Sirius says, taking a few from James’ hand, “which one was it that you were with?”  

You frown. “You make it sound like I have dozens of prospects. I’ve only been messaging with three guys.” 

“Malcolm, Tom, and Liam,” James rattles off. 

“Right.” Sirius waves his hand. “And which one of these dull names were you with tonight?” 

“Tom,” you say, crunching down vengefully on a crisp. 

“What was so awful about it?” asks Remus. 

“It was just—” You sigh helplessly. “Honestly, I sort of knew we weren’t going to get along. Even over text, he was dry, sort of boring. I had to ask all the questions. I only went because he’s French.” 

James lets out a startled sort of laughter. “Why?” 

“Because, you know.” You shrug. “It’s kind of a bucket list thing.” 

“Babe,” he laughs, “you can find French men all over London.”

“It’s no wonder he was a prick.” Remus is smirking now, too. 

“Hey!” Sirius objects as James nods his agreement. 

“If you’d told us you were going out with a French bloke,” he says, “we’d have told you not to bother.” 

“Every one of them is pompous, shallow, whiny—”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sirius snaps, scowling when James curls an arm around his neck to ruffle his hair. Remus looks to be hiding a grin. 

“Are you French?” you ask, confused. 

Sirius looks over at you despite James’ loose chokehold, managing to arch a brow. “N’est-ce pas évident à cause de ma peau impeccable et de mon aura cultivée?”

“Goodness.” James blows out a breath, sitting back to fan himself. “I will take you to bed right now.” 

“That,” you clarify. “That is why French men are a bucket list item.” 

Sirius looks smug. “Did he at least like your outfit?” 

“Um,” you hesitate, “he didn’t say—”

“Can’t be that French, then. No taste.” 

“—but to be fair, I don’t think he was paying me much attention.” 

“Definitely no taste,” James seconds. “What do you mean, he wasn’t paying you attention?” 

“He just seemed a lot more interested in talking about himself.” You roll your eyes, gratified when Remus makes a judgemental humphing noise. “It was all about his job, how much money he makes, stuff about cars. He was a big car guy.” 

“Uh oh.” James is smiling again. His eyes slide over to Sirius, who looks already prepared for a fight. “Cars, eh? And are you quite certain your date wasn’t Sirius wearing a hat?” 

“Jar.” Sirius slams his fist down like a gavel. “I demand a contribution to the jar.” 

“Sorry,” says Remus drily, “no.” 

“I may like working on my bike, but I know better than to talk about it! I won’t accept car guy slander in relation to my good name.” 

“Did you or did you not,” says James, with the air of a lawyer in a courthouse drama, “spend twenty minutes telling me about your new muffler?” 

“You fucking liked it, you prat.” 

You hide a smile behind your hand. It does make you feel immensely better coming home to this place of laughter and teasing after the awkwardness of silence across a small table, looking over a full pint of beer that your date ordered for you and you didn’t want. 

“He did actually send me a picture of the inside of his car before we went out,” you say, taking out your phone to show them. 

Remus groans. 

“See?” Sirius spreads his hands. “That’s the difference between me and car guys. I would never do that.” 

“Hold on, let me find it…” You scroll through your messages—large text bubbles of attempted conversation starters on your end, single-word responses and the occasional unsolicited selfie on his—only to gasp and drop your phone when the screen changes without warning. “Oh my god.” 

“What?” James and Sirius ask at once. 

“He’s calling me.” 

“He—Tom?” James’ eyes round behind his glasses. “Tom is calling you?” 

“Yes!”

“Why?” 

“I don’t know!” You toss the phone to Sirius.

He tosses it back to you like a hot potato. “Well, fucking decline!”

“Don’t decline!” says James. “Answer it!” 

“I can’t answer it! Why would I answer it?” 

“Because what if he needs something?” 

“What could he possibly need from her?” Remus asks, frowning. 

“I don’t know—what if—he might want to apologize for how things went. Maybe he was just nervous and he wants to try again!” 

You shake your head. You admire James’ way of looking for the best in people, you really do, but you don’t ever want to see that man again. You’ve worked yourself up too much about it. “I’m not answering it.” 

“Then give it to me.” He reaches into your lap before you can stop him, plucking up your phone. 

“James,” you hiss, as Remus makes a strangled sound and Sirius reaches to snatch the phone from him, but you all turn to statues when James presses a button and says pleasantly, “Hello?” 

You hold your breath. 

“Oh, hi. Tom, is it? I’m her flatmate. What can I do for you?” 

He pauses, listening intently while you and Sirius trade panicky looks. 

“Her lip balm?” James raises his eyebrows at you. You pat your pocket, wincing when the familiar shape of a small tube is missing. “That was kind of you to grab it for her. Right…well, I don’t think all women are forgetful. I wouldn’t say that.” 

You look at your flatmates like see? Sirius’ face screws up in seeming abashment for their gender as a whole, while Remus remains impassive. His eyes lack the warmth you’ve become accustomed to even when he’s frowning. 

“Yeah, sure, you can bring it by—” You jolt, shaking your head vehemently, and James’ eyes widen. “Erm, actually, you can keep it.” A pause. “Yeah, well, it’s just that she’s not in a state to be seeing anyone right now. She’s, um. She’s very sick.” 

You bend over, putting your head in your hands. Sirius reaches over James to pat your back. 

“Yeah, no, rather sudden. What did you have tonight, by the way? It’s really—I mean, are you feeling alright? She’s had her head in the toilet from the moment she got back. Really awful.” 

You hear Remus murmur quietly, “Alright, wrap it up.” 

“No, um, I don’t think tomorrow would work either. For one thing, we don’t know how long the vomiting will last, and for another…she’s…moving?” 

You look up, incredulous. 

“Yes.” James nods, seeming almost as if he’s reassuring himself. “She’s moving. Back home. Just at the end of the week, actually, and you know, um, you can’t bring lip balm on an airplane. Really, you can keep it. I’m sure she’d want you to have it.” 

“Why is he making it sound like I’m dead?” you whisper to Sirius, who only shakes his head, resigned. 

“No, she had a really lovely time with you—she managed to tell us that, through all the vomitting—so she’d…want you to have something to remember her by. Yeah, alright. You too. Thanks, mate.” James ends the call, blowing out a breath. “You owe me so big for that.” 

“I owe you?” you ask, astonished. “How did all that end up with me owing you?” 

“I got him to leave you alone,” James points out. “And he thinks he was your great British love affair. Everyone’s happy.” 

You make a breathless sound, locking eyes with Remus, who grimaces sympathetically. Sirius, however, pats James on the back. 

“Yeah, fair enough,” he says. “Well done, Jamie. Tom’s going to make out with that lip balm for weeks to come.” 

[thewriterghost]

Hi Elle!

Officially making my first request on here!

Would you do a tasm fic/blurb, possibly, about reader getting a small injury of some kind (nothing serious), and Peter has to patch them up now?? Could be a sweet and fluffy fic and either best friends to lovers or alr in a relationship ? I’m really not picky about any of that, lol.

No rush, ofc! Take your time with requests ☺️

- 🫧

I've been banking this for the right moment and then decided to give it a go with our no boundaries roommate reader! so thanks for the prompt, babes <3

Peter Parker x no boundaries roommate!reader who is hurt [1.2k words]

CW: fem!reader, pre-established relationship but heavily implied feelings on Peter's side, mentions of blood/bleeding, hurt/comfort and fluff

Peter can’t necessarily tell you why he knows that you’re home, but he does. 

He hasn’t seen you since he slipped through the window after his patrol; your bedroom door is ajar and the room sits empty, and you’re not in any of the shared spaces, either. But still, Peter knows; you’re home. 

So, he pads down the hallway towards the bathroom where he gently raps twice and finally calls out your name. 

“You in there?”

He hears something fall as though you’ve let something slip from your hands. “Yep!” 

Peter’s brows furrow and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s turning the knob to let himself into the bathroom.

Except the knob won’t budge. 

“Uhm, when the hell did we start locking doors around here?” He asks as he throttles the knob none-too-gently. 

“The only locks around here are on the front door and the bathroom…” you deflect.

“And nary have they been locked since the likes of you moved in.” Peter deadpans as he jostles the knob again. “Seriously, what’s up?” 

“Nothing’s up!” You tell him with put upon cheer. Peter doesn’t buy it.

He doesn’t buy it because you once told him that locked doors stood against your fundamental right to freely exist in the apartment you pay rent for. Peter has spent a number of showers waiting for you to finish your story and leave so he could get out and towel himself off. He once accidentally walked in on you on the toilet and apologized profusely for it, only for you to wave him off and pull your pants up like he wasn’t even there before washing your hands and telling him this was his apartment too. 

So, no…he doesn’t buy that nothing is up. 

“Y/N?” He starts carefully. “Are you okay?”

Your response comes quickly and about two octaves too high. “Yep! I’m fine!” 

Peter still doesn’t buy it. 

Against his better judgement, Peter yanks on the knob one last time, causing the entire plate to clatter to the ground before he pushes the door open. 

You’re sitting on the closed toilet wearing nothing but a towel as you hold another towel to your head; eyes wild as you look at Peter in what appears to be a mixture of embarrassment and maybe a bit of fear. 

“Peter, I- hey, you broke it!” You tell him, pointing at the door handle in his hand with the one not currently holding the towel to your head, seeing the edge of the towel currently wrapped around your torso threaten to fall lower on your chest. 

“And I’ll fix it.” He tells you simply as he places the knob on the bathroom counter and sinks to his knees in front of you. “What happened?” 

“M’okay.” You offer him warily, and Peter thinks he might actually throw up at the way your permanently bright and happy eyes turn glassy. 

“I don’t believe you.” He offers just as warily as he lifts his hand to yours, encouraging you to let go of the towel so he can pull it away from your head. 

“Lovely,” he coos embarrassingly at the thin cut on your forehead accompanied by a pretty decent sized welt, “what happened?” 

“I just…it’s- I slipped in the shower but head injuries bleed so much and the water was still on so-” you pause to sniffle, and Peter’s heart cleaves clean in two when a tear slips over your waterline “-so it was kind of freaky.”

“I bet.” He agrees, turning to examine the bathroom after he brushes the offending tear away. You seemed to have rinsed the tub pretty thoroughly, the only evidence of your accident were a few drops of blood on a shampoo bottle and a bloodied hand towel you seemed to have ditched for a fresh one. “How’re you feeling?”

A breath leaves you as you stare at a point around Peter’s shoulder. 

“Uhm,” you let out with a sort of laugh, pitchy and nervous and still so lovely that Peter has to fight the urge to fold you up and put you in his pocket for safekeeping. “I…I think I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he stands, grabbing a fresh wash cloth from the bottom cabinet and soaking it before returning to his knees in front of you. “Do you feel dizzy at all?”

Your eyes flit between both of Peter’s for a beat too long before you offer him a hesitant response. “I don’t…think so.”

He decides not to push the matter, knowing how disarming having you all over him when he’s hurt can be and figuring you’ve been abused enough tonight as is. 

“Okay, what would you like to do?” He asks, finishing cleaning the surrounding area with one hand as he twines his fingers with yours with his other. “Do you want to run to the hospital?”

He barely has the question out before you’re emphatically shaking your head no; you clearly regret the action when your eyes scrunch shut in pain. 

“No,” you tell him verbally, “no. I- google says if it didn’t stop bleeding after 15 minutes to seek medical help but it stopped bleeding pretty quickly.”

“Yeah? Alright, how about we go get you dressed then, huh?”

“We?” You squeak as he helps you stand from the edge of the toilet and ushers you out of the bathroom. He smiles to himself but brushes past the question. 

“We can get you set up on the couch for a bit? I’ll make us some mozza sticks. Does that sound okay?”

Your movements slow somewhat as the two of you make it to your bedroom, Peter hardly pausing as he grabs your pyjamas and holds the shorts open for you to step into them. 

His heart soars when some of your brazenness returns to you – his sweet, boundary-less girl stunned for but only a few moments before coming back into her own – quickly stepping into your shorts as you hold Peter’s shoulder for balance. 

Peter drops his hands once your shorts are secured around your waist, turning to grab the matching top to hold it over you when you let the towel drop in favour of helping Peter ease the shirt over your head. 

You wince as the fabric stretches over your head and Peter kisses the space beside the welt in apology. 

You never do tell Peter whether or not mozza sticks on the couch sounds okay, but you do allow him to guide you to the living room and sit you down without complaint, so he accepts that as your complaisance. 

He’s just finishing laying a blanket out over you when you clumsily grab at his wrist.

Your eyes are wide and imploring and Peter is assaulted with the sudden and terrifying urge to kiss you silly. 

He opts to take your hand in both of his, instead.

“Will you make mozza sticks for yourself, too?” You ask him, and he wants to laugh at the fact that that is what you deemed so urgent as to nearly crush his wrist. 

As it was, he simply raises your hand to press a kiss to your fingers. “Yes, lovely. Thank you for reminding me.”

It’s an appeasement, said only for your sake, and it seems to work. 

“You’ll sit with me?” 

“You couldn’t stop me even if you tried.” He tells you, and it’s not said in appeasement.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[thewriterghost]

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO DO NOT KNOW

THIS IS A TRUMPET

THIS IS A TROMBONE

THIS IS A TUBA

AND THIS IS A FRENCH HORN

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME

[thewriterghost]

Hii Mae, how are you? Could I request a poly!emt marauders (if not, just poly marauders is totally fine as well) x anxious!reader. Lately my anxiety is killing me, I stared feeling very lightheaded due to that pretty often I’m a little scared and also I’ve keep getting tingles in my fingers (like almost non stop, help) and it’s making it 100 times worse. So a fic along those lines would be so comforting. If any of this is triggering/unconfy I’m so sorry, ignore this. Anywayy, Ilysm angel <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: anxiety, lightheadedness, brief mention of nausea

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Your heart feels like it’s sitting in your throat. You keep feeling like maybe it’s because you’re lying on your side, that it’s lodged there because it can’t go up or down, but you know well enough that sitting up won’t help. It’s not going anywhere. This surety should help, but it doesn’t. It’s still blocking your air. 

This is one on a list of things that won’t let you sleep. 

You want to sleep. Oh god, you want it so badly. You’re so tired. It’s unjustifiable, really, how you can go through a day like any other and yet feel as though you’ve been through the hardest day of your life. Now you finally have the reprieve of a soft bed and your boyfriends’ body heat under the covers and you can’t. You can’t shut down. 

The covers shush quietly past each other as Remus shifts. You move to make room for him, surprised when instead he snakes an arm over you to cup the back of your neck. You draw in a breath. 

He doesn’t even open his eyes as he draws you closer, putting his lips to your forehead and mumbling, “You’re awake.” 

“You’re awake,” you breathe back to him. 

“Yeah,” you can hear a tinge of amusement in his tone now, “because you are.” 

A quiet, selfish part of you is relieved. It’s nice not to be the only one awake, the only one whose mind is still spinning the same spindle of neverending thread. Misery does love company. 

“I’m sorry,” you say anyway. “I can’t sleep.” 

Remus shushes your apology away, kissing your head again. “What’s keeping you?” he asks. 

“I have pins in my hands.” 

It’s the thing worrying you the most. Worse than the migration of your heart or the low, inconsistent nausea, is the steady prickling from your fingers down to the meat of your palms. It’s like they’re coming awake, but they’ve been waking for hours now. 

“Yeah?” You can’t tell if Remus is genuinely concerned or only humoring you, but he reaches beneath the covers for your hands anyway, taking them one at a time into his. His thumb presses into your heart line. “In both?” 

You hum, nervous. Less so with him looking after you. 

“Do you feel it anywhere else?” 

“No?” 

Remus looks at you patiently. “Are you sure?” 

“I…maybe a little in my feet. But not as much.” 

He hums. It’s a funny sound, half curious and half knowing. Very Remus. 

“I’m going to get your pulse,” he murmurs, turning your hand over in his grasp to feel your wrist. 

“Okay,” you whisper. “Sorry.” 

“Shh. Stop that.”

“Just that I woke you up.” 

“You didn’t wake me, love, you—” Remus pauses as a brawny forearm comes around his waist. “Well, I woke James. That’s not your fault, either.” 

“What’s going on?” James slurs, his face appearing over Remus’ shoulder only to slump down onto it in the world’s sleepiest (and most adorable) hug. He’s squinting, his glasses on the nightstand past Sirius, but his eyes land anyway on where Remus is holding your wrist. “Alright?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Remus says placidly. You’ll never not be impressed by how good paramedics are at counting in their heads while multitasking, your boyfriend’s free hand coming up to pet James’ hair. 

James allows himself to be pacified. Quite happily, really, his cheek sinking further down Remus’ bicep. “Why’re we awake?” he asks. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, apology in your tone. Remus gives you a look like he’s barely just letting it slide.

James’ compassion is immediate and palpable. “What’s the matter, lovie?” 

“It’s nothing.” You feel rather ridiculous now, three of you awake at god knows what hour to address the mysterious case of the tingling hands. “My hands are just prickling, it’s distracting me.” 

James makes a soft, concerned sound. He tilts his head up to see Remus. “What are you thinking?” 

“I have an idea,” Remus replies. “Can you sit up for me, sweetheart?” 

You do, your own concern mounting. “What’s wrong?” you ask, pushing up on your elbow. 

“Nothing to worry over.” Remus is sitting up with you, James releasing him so that he can. “I think your extremities may just not be getting enough blood flow.” 

“What does that mean?” You take in a quiet breath as you get all the way upright, splaying a hand on the bed. “Oh.” 

“Fucking hell.” Sirius’ grumbling comes from your other side. “It’s too early to get up.” 

You feel his face bury itself against your hip, but you can’t see him, or much of anything, through the thick spots smudging across your vision. They’re dark, but so is your bedroom, the only thing distinguishing them being odd bits of color. You might think they were pretty if you weren’t so unnerved by them. 

“Oh?” Remus asks, ignoring your grouchy boyfriend for the moment. “What’s oh?” 

“Nothing.” You blink hard, and the spots begin to ebb. “Just had a head rush.” 

Remus does that hum again. “Lightheaded?” 

“A little.” 

Sirius groans into your hip. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing,” you say, at the same time as James says, “She’s having circulation issues.” 

Sirius takes a pause. He turns his head up, seeming more awake. “Is something actually the matter?” 

“No,” you and Remus reassure him. You firmly, Remus calmly. It reassures you, too, that he agrees with you. You weren’t so sure of yourself. 

“Try something for me?” Remus asks you. You nod, of course, because you’ll do anything he wants. “Take a breath, as deep as you can.” 

You inhale through your nose, surprised by how difficult it is. There’s still your heart, obstructing a good portion of your throat, but even when you manage to get air past that it gets all tangled up in your lungs. 

“It hurts,” you say, alarmed. 

“That’s alright,” Remus promises you. 

“What is it?” 

“Sweetheart, shh, hey.” That’s James’ hand on your back. He’s moved up on the bed to reach around Remus, and somewhere along the way he must have figured out whatever Remus has, because he looks less worried now. “Take another breath. You’re fine.” 

“I think it might help to have some tea,” Remus says. And just like that, the decision is made, Remus sliding past James and out of bed. 

“Tea?” you echo after him. You realize it’s not unheard of for some people, but your boyfriends have never really been known to remedy medical afflictions with tea. 

Sirius is sitting up now, too, looking between you and James like he wants to ask a dozen questions but is trying to parse things out on his own first. His brows are woven together over bleary eyes. 

“Rem,” James’ voice harbors a fond smile, “you can’t just leave like that.” He looks at you, sighing. “He’s just sleepy. You know how he forgets to talk.” 

“What’s wrong with me?” you ask him instead. 

James draws his hand back and forth over your back. “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he soothes. “The tea is just to help you relax. I think you’re tingly and lightheaded because you’re not breathing enough, sweetheart.” 

The heat comes to your face so fast, and maybe you’d already guessed, because the first thing to slip from your mouth is a frail, “I’m trying.” 

“Hey.” Sirius may not have a grasp on what’s happening, but he knows enough not to like this newest development. You find your face tucked under his chin within a handful of moments. “Hey, we’re alright, aren’t we? There’s no need for tears.” 

“You said it hurts when you breathe in,” James says gently, “right?” 

You nod, blinking fast. 

“That’s something that can happen when there’s lower levels of carbon dioxide in our blood. The same thing that causes pins and needles, and dizziness.” He takes your hand, lips to your knuckles. “It’s not your fault, angel. We just need to get you breathing a bit better. Having something warm to drink might help you calm down.” 

“Oh,” you murmur. Because yeah, that sounds about right. It’s the dead of night. You should be sluggish, yawning, nodding off, but instead you feel like there’s static buzzing in your veins; if there’s one thing you’re not, it’s calm. 

Sirius makes a low, sorry sound of understanding. “Come here, baby.” He coaxes you up, half stumbling himself as he leads you into the kitchen. 

There, you’re sat down on the couch with a heavy blanket thrown over your lap and James’ hand to hold as you please. Remus kisses your head while pressing a steaming cup into your hands. It smells herbal and nice, and maybe it’s wishful thinking but you really do feel like the first inhalation of that aroma makes progress against the tightness of your chest. You imagine the steam curling inside you, soothing you from the inside out. Sirius falls asleep on James’ lap before you’ve taken two sips. 

It all helps. Maybe it’s just that things feel less miserable when there’s company. 

[thewriterghost]

I love how humans have literally not changed throughout history like the graffiti from Pompeii has people from hundreds of years ago writing stuff like “Marcus is gay” “I fucked a girl here” “Julius your mum wishes she was with me” and leonardo da vinci’s assistants drew dicks in their notebooks just for the banter and mozart created a piece called “kiss my ass” so when people wish for ‘today’s generation’ to be like ‘how people used to’ then we’re already there buddy we’ve always been

[thewriterghost]

Hello! Could I request a poly!marauders and reader where both reader and Remus are laid up in bed or on the couch with migraines together? And the other boys have to convince them to relax and call off work so they can coddle them please?

Thanks for requesting!

cw: migraines, mention of nausea and...hypothetical vomit? no one vomits but it's brought up as a possibility, reader has hair long enough to touch her neck

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Sirius,” James calls in distress, “they’re revolting.” 

“Mmygod,” Sirius thinks he hears Remus groan, at the same time as you beg, “Shut up.” 

Sirius rounds the corner to your sitting room to find you curled up in one corner of the sofa, your face pressed harshly into a throw pillow, while James has his finger hooked in Remus’ belt loop to prevent him from walking away. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” James says much more quietly, looking terribly contrite beneath Remus’ glare (which is really quite pathetic, considering Remus seems hardly to have the energy to put much bite into it). “Come on, just sit down.” 

“James,” Remus warns. 

Sirius fans out the two cold gel packs in his hand enticingly. “Can’t have one of these if you’re not lying down.” 

Remus turns his glare to Sirius, but Sirius doesn’t have James’ soft heart. After a few moments, Remus sits down. 

“There you are, lovely,” James praises as Sirius bestows Remus his cool pack, encouraging his head forward so it can lay across his nape. Remus plainly tries not to show his relief, but Sirius hears the soft breath that leaves him as he folds toward his knees. 

You’re silent as Sirius does the same for you, moving your hair away from your neck to smooth the cool pack in its place. “I have to go get ready soon,” you mumble dejectedly. 

“Unless,” Sirius says lightly, “you didn’t.” 

Remus lets out another sigh between his knees. “Time s��it?” 

James checks his watch and shoots Sirius a half-smile. They both know that the closer the two of you get to being late to work, the more persuasive their argument will become. “It’s not important,” James says, victory ringing in his tone. This makes you remove your face from its pillow to look at him suspiciously. 

“It’s not important,” Sirius agrees, “because you’re not going anywhere.” 

You bury your face again. “Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“I have to.” 

“Says who?” 

“My boss.” 

“Well, I say you have to stay.” 

Sometimes, when you’re as exhausted as you are now, this firm tone will work on you. Sometimes. Unfortunately, this is unlikely to be one of those times, because Remus is also here. 

Remus, who gets up with a ridiculously pitiful old man sound, holding the cold pack to his neck as he starts toward the bedroom. James gets in front of him quickly. 

“Baby,” he says, and Sirius’ eyebrows raise. James is really pulling out the big guns; Remus has to be feeling really poorly to respond well to that one. But James has committed, his eyes big and imploring. “Please. You’ll be miserable at work.” 

“I’m going to be late,” Remus argues, though he doesn’t try to move past James. 

“Well, if that’s the case anyway, why bother?” Sirius shoots him a grin. “You won’t be late if you call out now.” 

Remus lets out a sigh, like he’s sick of making his own argument. “I can’t.” 

“Rem.” Your voice is taut with pain. It makes Sirius want to scoop you up and squeeze you, if only that wouldn’t make everything worse. “I think you should stay home. It’ll make them shut up.” 

“Are you staying?” Remus asks. 

You’re quiet. 

Sirius tsks, placing a hand on your head so he can make circles in your temple with his middle finger. “I’m not shutting up unless you both stay,” he threatens. Albeit in a soft, considerate tone. 

“You don’t even have to call out yourselves,” James tries. Remus looks to be wavering. “We’ll do it for you, since you’re not well.” 

Neither you or Remus reply. You seem to be out of arguments, but Sirius knows better than to think that’ll stop you from walking out the door anyway. He can hear you breathing deep, even breaths into your pillow. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, knowing, “are you feeling sick?” 

A long breath out. “A little.” 

“Do you really want to throw up at work?” 

“Please shut up.” 

James gives one final push. “Sirius started a hot bath.” 

Remus looks ready to break first, which Sirius didn’t anticipate. He and James really deserve some sort of medal for this. Sirius holds your boyfriend’s gaze. 

“It’s probably almost full,” he confirms. “I have to go check on it in a second. You can’t go to work and have me put that minty shampoo in your hair at the same time, love.” 

Remus sighs, and Sirius knows they’ve won. “Dove,” he mumbles. You turn your head from the pillow once more, looking so terribly unwell that Sirius has to bite pack a whine. Remus says with an air of resignation, “I’ll stay if you do.” 

They all look to you. 

“We have triptans here,” James coaxes. “Cold packs. Bed. Peppermint tea.” 

Your eyes shut. “Fine.” 

It’s a testament to how well trained James and Sirius are that they don’t jump up and cheer. They do a version of that, exchanging giant smiles that make Remus look at them like he’s regretting his choice already, but James starts ushering him away before he can change his mind. 

“Let’s go have your bath,” he says. “That warm water will feel nice, yeah?” 

“I’m begging you to be quiet,” Remus replies, not unaffectionately. 

Sirius watches you watch them go. “Hey,” he says softly, waiting for you to look at him. “Can I kiss you?” 

You make a low hum of complaisance. Sirius bends, touching his lips gently (but quite fervently) to the corner of your mouth. 

“Thank you for looking after yourself,” he murmurs, “and after Remus. We’ll make it worth your while, I swear.” 

“M’not really doing anything,” you mumble in reply. “You’re the ones looking after us.” 

Sirius smiles at you, fighting hard to repress the urge to kiss you again. “Good of you to let us. What do you need, lovely? Something for your stomach? Peppermint tea?” 

You make a quiet, plaintive sound at the idea that he might get up to go and retrieve any of those things, closing your hand around his wrist. “Keep doing this, please?” 

“This?” He drills his finger into your temple more firmly. 

You melt, your grip slackening. “Yeah,” you sigh. “That.” 

Sirius’ heart swells. He gives into a tiny indulgence, pressing a kiss over his own finger. “You got it.” 

[thewriterghost]

I saw you opened requests for poly!marauders?! If you are able and still have them open, would you pretty please do rockstars! poly marauders x reader where the reader is their girlfriend and has a backstage pass etc all those privileges/clearance but after one of their shows she gets caught up in the groupies trying to get back stage and security trying to keep them away and you get caught in the scuffle and are injured, cue protective, upset boys ❤️

Thank you! I appreciate everything you write, it always makes my day 😊💕

Thank you lovely!

cw: crowd crush, minor injury

rockstar!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

It’s an alleyway smelling of pot and cigarette smoke. It’s spaced out fluorescent lights shining down on brick walls and pavement and a hundred bodies pressed tight together. It’s routine, it’s turning yourself sideways and murmuring apologies to those you wriggle past, some of whom seem nice enough and others who glare at you for trying to get to the front. 

You do get there, though not without some resistance, and you hold up your badge for the security guard’s inspection. The badge makes you feel a bit silly. It’s too official for what you are (though, as James likes to remind you, you are the most official), but you also feel a bit proud every time you get to flash it around. Not because of anything you’ve done, but because you didn’t always need one of these to see your boyfriends. They’ve come a long way from performing in empty dive bars. 

The security guard shines a light on your badge. You try your best to look friendly, and also like your picture, because it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been held in suspicion of making a fake badge to get backstage. You try to look honest, whatever that looks like. You are honest. He looks about ready to let you through, his flashlight clicking off, and of course that’s when Sirius decides to come out the back door. 

The crush is immediate. You’re four people back with a sore spot on the side of your ribs before you know what’s happened, tripping over other people’s feet and feeling yourself steadied by someone else’s hand and being swallowed up by a thousand screaming voices. 

You gasp, and it’s like you draw them all in closer by your breath. 

They’re in front of you, behind you, warm warm warm. An arm above your head. A heel digging into your toe. Sweat smeared from the crook of an elbow onto your shoulder. 

You can hear the baritone of the security guard’s voice in contrast, trying to get people to settle down and establish some kind of order where you all know there can’t be any. You don’t form a line to meet The Marauders. You fight your way to the front, you take your chance as soon as you can get it. 

You try going up on your tiptoes. You can see the tops of your boyfriends’ heads over the crowd. You do a little jump, hoping they’ll spot you. 

The second you go up, another force comes down, across your eye hard enough for stars to bloom behind your lids. Someone makes a sound like a wounded animal. It takes a few seconds—you hold your hand to your face and slowly, cautiously blink your unhurt eye open—before you look up at another girl’s horrified face and realize it may have been you. 

The other girl’s distress is obvious, parted lips and eyes wide with shock; she didn’t mean to do it. She holds her elbow like its collision with your face hurt her a little, too. 

“Oh my god!” she shouts. Because you have to shout to be heard here, even when you’re five inches away from each other. “I’m so sorry!” 

“It’s okay!” you shout back. It’s instinct to soothe her. You don’t know if you’re okay—your cheek is a throbbing ache, and you’re sweaty enough that you don’t think you’d be able to tell if you were bleeding—but there’s nothing she can do and she really looks terribly upset. You lie. “I’m good.” 

Strangely, your shouting isn’t quite so necessary when you say that last part. The crowd seems to be…quieting? It’s not calming, though. There’s a chord of tension running between you all. 

“No, no, stop it! Everyone settle down now.” That’s Sirius’ voice, ringing out with a hard edge he doesn’t use often. It’s shocked his fans into contrition. “Be still.” 

You spot Remus talking to one of the security guards before that guard turns to lock eyes with you, Remus pointing right at you. A handful of moments later the crowd is parting in front of you, security escorting you through. 

“We can’t have you acting this way,” James says, as you’re led under the barrier and straight into Remus’ arms. He cups your face, murmuring a hello with a sorry tilt to his lips as he tips it toward the light. Any pain feels instantly better under his touch. 

“I mean it,” James goes on. Sternly. He sounds upset, angry even, and James’ anger hurts worse than anyone else’s just for how difficult it is to invoke. You feel like you’ve upset the balance of the universe when you’ve made James Potter speak in anger. “People are getting hurt, and we can’t have it.” 

“Are you alright?” Remus asks you, his soft tone a strange but familiar contrast to the noise of it all as he begins to usher you towards the backstage door. “Come here, love. I can hardly see you.” 

“I’m okay,” you murmur. James is at your elbow a moment later, guarding your other side whilst security guards him. 

“No more autographs tonight,” says Sirius from behind you. An outcry of disappointment goes through the crowd. He weathers it unflinchingly. “No, that’s it. Go home.” 

“Sirius,” you whisper, though he can’t hear you. None of the boys have ever spoken to fans that way. It’ll matter more that it’s Sirius, too, as The Marauders’ frontman. Oh, Lily is going to be furious with him. 

You’ve stopped walking in your surprise. Remus touches the small of your back, encouraging you inside. 

“It’s alright,” James assures you, his hand coming between your shoulder blades to help move you. “He’s got it.” 

Sirius turns his back to the crowd just as you go through the door. It’s not much quieter inside (it’s never quiet at shows, not really), crew rushing around to organize cleanup and corral fans and find that goddamn missing microphone, but Remus manages to find you all some solace in the boys’ dressing room. You’re sat down on a tufted couch, your sweaty thighs sticking to the leather. James plops right down next to you. 

“Our poor girl.” He mushes his lips to the non-throbbing side of your face, arms wrapping you up in warm solidness. “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that, angel. I saw your face pop up, and then it just—you just went down, it was awful. Does it hurt? Is it bad?” 

“I can’t see when you’re holding her like that,” Remus chides, trying to slip his palm between James’ cheek and yours. 

“I think it’s fine,” you say. “Just—is it bleeding?” 

“No, it’s not bleeding.” Remus gets James off you, if only by an inch, angling your face where he can see it. “Are you hurt anywhere other than your face?” His pointer finger touches gingerly to your nose. 

You flinch. “Ow.” 

Remus’ expression pinches. “Sorry, love.” 

“Let me see.” Sirius’ voice is still hard. His hand appears on Remus’ shoulder, meant to move him, but Remus only turns his head with a warning look. 

“Not like that.”

It takes Sirius a moment to work out what he means. He blows out a breath. “Fuck, sorry,” he says, taking a step back and trying to shake the anger out of his fingertips. “Sorry, baby, I’m just—that was a lot. James is right, it was fucking awful to watch.” 

“It’s okay,” you offer, eager to soothe your boyfriend. “I’m okay.” 

“Can I have a look?” he asks, gentler now. 

Remus makes room for him. Sirius crouches in front of you, a terribly sad little downtilt to the corners of his mouth. He brushes his thumb underneath the corner of your eye. 

“Looks like she mostly caught your nose,” he murmurs. “How does it feel?” 

“Not very bad.” You can hardly raise your own voice above a whisper when he’s looking at you so tenderly. “It mostly just surprised me, honestly.” 

“It sure looked surprising,” James agrees. He gives your arm a rub. 

Sirius probes the side of your nose, and you blink when your eyes water. His brows draw down. 

“It’s not that bad,” you promise. 

“Does anything else hurt?” he repeats Remus’ question. 

“No.” Remus and Sirius get comically similar stern looks. You can’t help but smile a bit as you shrug. “I got banged around a bit, but so did everyone. You didn’t have to end the whole night because of it, you know.” 

James scoffs, kissing your face again. Sirius lets you go. “Obviously we did,” says James. “Our girl was hurt, what else were we supposed to do? Anyway, I’ve never seen them get that out of hand.” 

Remus makes an unhappy sound of agreement. “We couldn’t let that go on,” he says, “and honestly, things probably only would have gotten worse if we’d tried to continue after all that upset.” 

You hum, letting yourself sink into James’ side. He squeezes you approvingly. “Lily’s going to be upset.” 

“Not as upset as she would have been if I’d stayed out there.” Sirius folds himself into a velvet chair, gathering his hair into a ponytail from his wrist. “Fans would have gotten home to find all sorts of creative swears along with their autographs.”

James nods sagely. “Damage control.”

[thewriterghost]

Omg hi!!! Welcome back!! 😭🫶

Omg Elle, hi 🥺💙 I didn't realize how long I was gone for 😭 Good to be back! Have I missed too much? 😅

[thewriterghost]

Ooh fun fun fun maybe setting 94 and dialogue 47 with a little apocalypse/wilderness survival au with Remus or any poly ship with Remus in it??

this felt like it could be good for our zombie au! thanks for playing <3

poly!marauders x reader who gets injured on the run [834 words]

CW: ⁹⁴⁾ an isolated, rural cabin, ⁴⁷⁾ “you’re still bleeding- stop and let me look at it.”, no gender markers used for reader but they are referred to as 'dove' 'angel' & 'doll', blood and injury, stitches, hurt/comfort A/N: there's no comment on what the group is running from or what is making them unsafe so it doesn't have to be a zombie au! I also completely missed the setting - I'm sorry :'(

Sirius runs to help James barricade the door as Remus kneels in front of you. 

“No, no.” You start to tell Remus as he straightens out your leg. “Stop. You- ah, you have to go. Get out of here.”

Remus doesn’t have the time to feel bad for the way he actually swats your hands out of his way as he tries to wrap his belt around your leg. The bleeding – thankfully – appears to be slowing some since they’ve laid you down, but he’s not keen on letting you lose any more blood than you already have. 

“Remus,” you hiss, “please. Go.”

“Stop fighting me.” He barks back, taking both of your hands and pinning them under his elbow against his ribs. He can’t tell if you’re too weak to fight him or are actually heeding his instructions. 

“S’not safe.” You tell him, and Remus can hear the tears in your voice even as he keeps his gaze on your thigh. 

“I know it’s not, dove. That’s why we’ve gotta get you stitched up and then find a way out of here.” 

“You’re going to die here with me.” You spit then; desperation, fear, and pain creating a cocktail of emotions that is tangible in your voice. Remus wars with the prospect of spitting back at you or assuaging your fears. 

“No one’s going to die, doll.” Sirius grunts as James finally jams the door shut with a filing cabinet. “Just let Moony help you.”

“I’m- I- we need to find a way out now.” You decide with a huff, eyes wild as you look at the air vent in the ceiling. “I’m fine, we need to go.” 

James is just about to make an argument when you try to sit up; Remus and Sirius both jump to push you back down by your shoulders. 

“You’re still bleeding- stop and let me look at it.” Remus says, voice taking on a no nonsense quality that has Sirius’ brows jumping in surprise.

“Better listen to him, angel; last time he had to use his dad voice, Sirius was left pouting for a week.” 

“Nine days, actually.” Sirius corrects James as he keeps one hand on your shoulder; it’s disguised as comfort but it’s clear that it’s really to keep you down while Remus readys the first aid kit. 

You hiss as Remus pours alcohol over the wound. 

“D’you need something to bite, dove?” He asks after disinfecting his own hands – invisible scrapes he didn’t know he had making themselves painfully known – and picking up the suturing kit. 

“Just be quick.” You bite out, squeezing your eyes shut so violently that Sirius’ brows twitch in sympathy. 

“Pads, stay and help – I’m gonna scout for a safe way out of here.” James announces then, and your eyes fly right back open.

“No, James. No!”

“You need to sit still, doll.” Sirius tells you as Remus grunts in admonishment. 

“No. Sirius, go with him.” You insist.

Sirius looks warily between Remus and James. “But-”

“Please. I’m fine, I’m fine.” Your breathing suggests otherwise, though Remus figures that might be remedied if Sirius actually listens to you. “Remus is fine; he knows what he’s doing. Please.”

Sirius leaves the decision up to Remus, cocking a brow at him before Remus relents with a curt nod. 

Sirius bends to place a brief kiss to your sweaty brow before standing and rushing to press one to the crown of Remus’ head. 

“We’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay.” You let out with a breath, and Remus is grateful for it.

“Ready?” He asks you, and you close your eyes again – jaw set in what can only be described as sheer defiance to your situation – and nod. 

Remus does his best to be quick, but his heart clenches with every quiet whimper that leaves your lips, every subtle flinch of your flesh as he works to stitch it back together, and the silent and steady stream of tears heading towards your ears from the corners of your eyes. 

Both of you are breathless by the time he finishes. 

“I’m sorry.” He almost sobs, surprising you into opening your eyes. “You’re okay. I’m so sorry. It’s done; you did brilliantly.” 

You swallow thickly and nod. “Thank you, Rem.”

He wants to tell you not to thank him; he should’ve been gentler, he should’ve taken the time to soothe your worries first, he should’ve found a way to stop this from happening in the first place. He should’ve taken better care of you. 

But you’re smiling at him – albeit the smile is watery and sad – and his heart flutters into his throat at the sight of you, alive and okay, still able to smile. 

He nods at you.

You’re both startled by the sound of the small window being broken in from the outside.

“Right,” James huffs as he sticks his head in, smiling like this is just another Tuesday, “who’s ready to get the hell out of here?” 

You and Remus couldn’t agree fast enough.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[thewriterghost]

movie marathon - thinking about sirius and his loser homebody gf … it would be such an interesting dynamic because he lovess going out but you just want to stay in every night (not projecting at all)

Hahah no because same

i think he would intially push you to go out honestly, but once he gets you out he realizes you're not just being shy and it genuinely drains you, he starts to adjust

once he starts to understand that you're more comfortable in small groups he'd probably focus on inviting you to those, like small hangouts with just his friends rather than a bit group or a party

it also takes him a while to grasp that you're genuinely okay staying home without him if he really wants to go out, like he's so clingy and he i think just assumes everyone feels the same so it really doesn't click for him that it doesn't have to be all-or-nothing until you say it several times and he gets that you're not just fibbing to make him feel better

there'd have to be some compromise for sure. like on his birthday or one of his close friends' birthdays you'll suck it up and go out with him, but if for instance on your birthday you don't want to do anything he has to suck it up and not throw a big party like he wants to (in his head it is for you, just in his head it's not a birthday without a big party lol)

after a while of staying in with you though, he kinda realizes he could maybe get used to this. he loves all the cuddling that comes with lazing about, and he starts to crave that something sweet around the same time as you do every night, and of course he starts getting attached to the TV shows you watch together

it gets to the point where if he's going out and you're staying in he's genuinely a bit conflicted, and he has to be like "do not watch the next episode without me, i'll be back at ten" and even if he's not back until midnight you stay up so you can watch one last episode together and get your cuddle time in before bed <3