#devolver tumble time

[sodafrog13]

thought he needed some friends :]

[manuel31victor]

[savingcontent]

Android users can Pre-Register for Devolver Tumble Time today, releasing next month

Android users can Pre-Register for Devolver Tumble Time today, releasing next month

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[wheneverfeasible]

Awakenings

wc: 2.3k || rating: T || cw: none || summary: Steve, Robin, and Eddie discuss their queer awakenings with (not-so-) surprising results. || ao3

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” Eddie grinned from where he was draped over the Buckleys’ couch, socked feet crossed against the wall as his head hung upside down off the cushions. “Jodie Foster is a babe. Did you see her in Carny?”

Steve laughed at Robin’s red face. “More times than she would like to admit,” he teases her, throwing a half-popped piece of popcorn at her face. Her resulting shriek was worth her throwing an aptly named throw pillow at his head.

Steve doesn’t know exactly how they got on to this topic, but it wasn’t unusual. Ever since Robin came out to Eddie, resulting in Eddie coming out to her in a panic at seeing her look so uncomfortable, which then resulted in Steve having to come out when Eddie panicked about him, well, a lot of their conversations when they were alone devolved into queerdom.

They had been watching music videos on TV and discussing who was hot, which resulted in them talking about how they had discovered they were queer, or maybe should have realized it sooner. Apparently Eddie had been obsessed with this one Irish singer/bassist dude who had recently passed away, which now that he knew he was bi, he realized now had been a celebrity crush.

Which prompted Robin to tell them who had been her lesbian awakening, another celebrity crush.

“Ugh, too bad I don’t have a chance with her,” Robin bemoaned from where she was now trying to smother Steve with the pillow she had thrown at him from their spots on the floor in front of the TV. “Not only is she a celebrity, but she’s also straight!”

Steve laughed, pushing Robin away. “I don’t know, man, you saw that interview she did years ago when asked about boys,” he teased her. “She probably likes boobies too.”

“Stop saying boobies!” Robin shrieked again, grabbing another pillow to smother him with.

Eddie laughed at them, well used to their sibling dynamic. “Well, we all know who awakened little Stevie, don’t we?” he teased, causing the two roughhousing to pause. Which was just as good since they’d ended up knocking over the popcorn bowl, though thankfully it was mostly empty already.

Steve hesitated, wondering if he’d been that obvious. “I truly don’t think you know,” he said dryly, almost mockingly. He wasn’t ashamed of it or embarrassed by it, but he also hadn’t wanted to make anything weird in their friend group.

“C’mon, dude. It’s obvious! Tom Cruise!”

Steve froze. Processed. Let out a groan. “Oh my god, I’ve had a crush on Tom Cruise this whole time,” he whined, dropping back onto the floor on his back. “No wonder Nancy always gave me a look when I wanted to watch his movies.”

Robin and Eddie both laughed at him, though at least Robin had the decency to try to hide hers.

“You mean you didn’t know?” Eddie asked, obviously delighted by that turn of events. “Christ, Harrington, I thought you were going to cream your pants when we watched Top Gun.”

“Well I know I like him now,” Steve complained from his spot on the floor, waving a hand in the air. “But he wasn’t the one who made me realize I was bi.”

“Oooh, then who was it?” Robin teased him, poking him in the ribs to watch him squirm.

Steve rolled his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t been obvious then. He sat back up and propped himself up on his hands with a small shrug. Like he said, he wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed. Well, maybe embarrassed by what had made him realize, but not the who of it. Never the who.

“Jonathan,” he answered simply.

Now it was Eddie’s turn to squawk, tumbling ass over tits from the couch to the floor as he tried to lift himself up to stare agog at Steve. “WHAT!”

Steve just let out a chuckle, bringing up a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Yeah, pretty early on actually. Well, I didn’t realize it was a small crush yet, but yeah.” He let out a heavy sigh with another roll of his eyes at his two friends’ gaping expressions.

“When was this!” Robin exclaimed. “How could you not tell me about all of this!”

“I just didn’t think it was important,” he huffed. His cheeks turned slightly pink at her first question, however. “Uh…it was…whenhepunchedme,” he said in a rush.

“Sorry, could you repeat that, because it sounds like you said when he punched you!”

Steve could only give her a sheepish grin and another small shrug. “It was kind of hot,” he admitted, causing Robin to throw herself back with a small wail. Eddie was just staring at him with wide eyes, but what else was new. “He liked Nancy and was trying to defend her honor, and then I said those really shitty things about his family when Will was missing.”

Steve sighed. Honestly, he regretted those things the most. Sure, he’d been wrong about what Jonathan and Nancy had been up to, but Nancy hadn’t given him another excuse than cheating on him at the time. Saying those hateful things about the Byers though, when he knew they were hurting? That had been fucked up, especially when he saw what an amazing person Joyce was, and how sweet Will was.

He’d apologized to them all after that first time (minus Lonnie of course because that guy does suck) but he still feels bad about it.

“I just thought it was hot at first though, the strength and male aggression, which made me realize maybe I was the queer. Then I started thinking about how Jon protects those he cares about, and by the time I realized that I felt jealous of both him and Nancy, they were already dating.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie muttered, scrubbing a palm over his face. “Oh my god.”

“I don’t have a crush on him now,” Steve complained. “But yeah. Jonathan Byers was my bi awakening,” he added with a grin.

“I can’t believe you never told me this,” Robin hissed, smacking him in the arm. “And after the Russian drug confessions and everything!”

“Hey!” Steve said, swatting back at her. He pointed an accusing finger at Eddie. “What about Eddie! He never told us who was his awakening. Just that he should have known sooner than he did.”

Robin’s gaze immediately swerved to take in Eddie’s pinking expression, a wicked grin curling her lips. “That’s right. Who made you realize you were a big fat homo, Munson?”

Eddie chuckled nervously, his gaze darting back and forth between them. “Uh…does it matter?” he hedged, causing Steve and Robin to roll their eyes in sync.

“I told you about Jonathan,” Steve pointed out. “And Robin told you about how she’s been a useless lesbian all her life.”

“Hey!”

“So who did it, Munson? Who made you realize you like boobies and dick,” Steve grinned.

Eddie continued looking at him, eyes wide and face turning pinker by the moment. “I…” An excruciating moment passed before his face crumpled and his squeezed his eyes shut with a nose scrunch Steve had always found adorable. He covered his face in his hands and let out a pained sigh. “It was you, okay,” he said, voice cracking.

Silence.

Steve felt a stutter in his chest, turning to look at Robin who was staring back at him with her own shocked expression. As one, they turned back to look at Eddie.

“Me?” Steve softly asked. He probably shouldn’t feel so smug about that, but he also couldn’t help it. To think that he, Steve Harrington, had been someone’s queer awakening. It was totally going to his head.

“Yes, you,” Eddie huffed, dropping his hands but not raising his head at all.

“When?” Was it back in high school? Back when he was wearing his gym shorts or speedos for swim? Eddie thought he was hot, whenever it was. He tried to keep a smile off his face at the thought.

“When you…” Eddie let out a groan, obviously embarrassed, which…ow? Was he embarrassed he thought Steve attractive? Was this just because Steve was a normie or because of who he’d been in high school?

“When I what?” Steve asked just as softly. He didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer now.

“When you bit the bat in the Upside Down,” Eddie admitted in a tone like pulling teeth.

Yeah. Okay. Steve definitely didn’t want the answer now. Because what the fuck?

“What the fuck?”

Eddie flinched a little at Steve’s response. “Look, it was hot okay!” he tried to protest. “At least you weren’t punching my face Mr. I-have-a-crush-on-Jonathan-Byers.”

“Had. Had a crush,” he reflexively corrected. He blinked at Eddie who still refused to look at him. “Are you shitting me right now, Munson? That was when you knew? I thought you’ve known for years!” Steve complained, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Did you have a crush on me, or did you just think I was hot?”

He regretted the question as soon as it left his mouth. Of course Eddie never had a crush on him. Finding a guy attractive was one thing, but actively liking him? Yeah, Steve knew better than to think Eddie could ever like him like that.

“Have,” Eddie whispered.

“What?”

“I have a crush on you,” Eddie mumbled, and then he was finally looking up Steve through his bangs. “I used to think…I mean, you’d never go for the weird guys. But then Byers?” he asked, tone still quiet, but now with a note of derision to it. “I have much better hair.”

Steve blinked. Blinked some more. Then he drew in a shuddering breath. Eddie has a crush on him. As in currently. As in right now.

Oh.

A warmth blossomed up in Steve’s chest, something he’d never imagined possible actually coming true. He cleared his throat, ducking his head a little to try to get a better look through the curtain of Eddie’s hair?

“Do you know what’s hotter than a punch to a face?” When Eddie lifted his head some to stare at him more fully, giving a small shake of his head, Steve grinned. “Being manhandled against a wall with a broken bottle to the neck.”

Eddie’s eyes widened, his face now fully flamed red, and Steve figured that maybe he really did have a thing for dorks. Considering how he was wanting to smother Eddie’s red cheeks with kisses and love devotions, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only dork here, however.

Carefully, slowly, Steve reached out to settle his hand on Eddie’s knee, his thumb lightly stroking the exposed skin there through the other man’s ripped jeans. Eddie stilled beneath him, scarcely seeming to even breathe, which boosted Steve’s confidence. He let his grin settle into something softer.

“So…it was the bats, really?” he lightly teased. “Not my school speedos, or even me shirtless and throwing my sweater at you?” He raised his brows at that. “I really wasn’t being subtle there dude.”

Eddie lifted his head fully then to stare at Steve aghast. “I didn’t know you liked guys! You were practically throwing yourself at Wheeler!”

“Well yeah, you weren’t giving me anything to go off of,” Steve complained rolling his eyes. “And I wasn’t about to make our friendship awkward by telling you I had a crush on you. Why do you think I never told Jonathan? I thought it didn’t matter. Even when you came out as bi—which, you’re welcome, by the way,” Steve added smugly, causing Eddie to scowl and pick up a discarded pillow to throw at him, “you never showed me any interest. Even when I came out as bi.”

“Well, yeah, you’re like…outrageously hot and an ex-jock. I knew better than to get my hopes up,” Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Maybe I should have bit more bats then,” Steve grinned. “Given you more of an incentive.”

“Yeah, okay, Ozzy, but I didn’t—wait, you have a crush on me?”

Steve knew it was mean, but he still laughed at Eddie’s owlish blinking. “Have since the boathouse, but thanks for finally catching up.”

“Oh my god, you are such a bitch!” Despite his words, Eddie was smiling wide, his eyes full of that sparkle Steve loved so much.

Steve could have said something snarky then, but instead he just slid his hand into the hair at the back of Eddie’s neck and pulled the metalhead into a kiss, smiling against his startled lips. It only took a moment for Eddie to respond enthusiastically, however, bringing his own hands up to grab onto the collar of Steve’s shirt as they tumbled backwards.

It took a moment for Steve to even realize Robin was no longer there, didn’t even know when she had left, too trapped in Eddie’s confession. He didn’t truly even acknowledge her absence until she yelled from the kitchen to keep hands above the waist and they only had five more minutes before she was spraying them with water.

Steve chuckled happily against Eddie’s lips, whose answering soft laughter was a balm to his nerves. Eddie liked him back.

It was six minutes later, when Robin really did come back with a spray bottle and forced them apart, that Steve had Eddie curled up on the floor against him with their backs to the sofa, Robin keeping the spray bottle nearby just in case. He didn’t think he had ever been happier.

“Oh, and Oz?” Eddie murmured softly, looking up at him from where he rested his head against Steve’s shoulders.

“Yeah?” Steve answered, feeling something warm and sweet at his apparent new nickname that held so much meaning for the both of them now.

“I am so telling Jonathan you had a crush on him.”

~

I’ve long thought it would be amazing if Eddie nicknamed Steve “Ozzy” and finally I got the chance to put it into a fic. It will definitely be a reoccurring thing though whenever I get the chance tehe

Hostage Hotties: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @honeii-puff @scoops-aboy86 @dotdot-wierdlife

[mrspeechless]

The apprehension was starting to boil over. What felt like hours of jerking now sore and exhausted muscles against hellish cords of rope amounted to nothing. She was no freer than she was the moment they'd left her. In her head she thought it'd be so simple to get free. She'd even wear that confidence on her shoulders, glaring at the robbers menacingly as the second pair of her own underwear was callously packed into her mouth despite how much of a nuisance she thought shaking around her head might be. She'd even spat noticeably muted curses their way, doomed as those words were to be effectively blockaded by the half roll of tape brutally squeezing her bloated cheeks and forcibly spread lips. When those masked bastards chuckled at her indignant show of attitude her ego deftly deflected the blow. Even after one of the men gripped her by tape-buried cheeks and said "You'll get loaded into the van last" she was still convinced that somehow the joke would be on them. There was no possible way she'd allow herself to be taken as just another object from her home. That was the stuff of film, tabloid news pieces at supermarket checkouts, raunchy romance novels shelved in the very back of bookstores. But as time drew on, the knots of their ropework remaining pristine, the muscles of her jaw beginning to ache from wasted time spent flexing lips and working her tongue against the panties trapped in her mouth, the weight of her helplessness started to compound. A dense knot tighter than any found on the ropes that lashed across her meekly struggling body grew in the pit of her stomach. She'd even tested the limits of her gag a few times, leaning her head to the nearest window a few feet away and letting loose screams that roared like a lion's in her throat yet only mewled like a cub's when filtered through the front of the tape smothering her lips. A tingle of fear would flow through her with each attempt, realizing just how quiet they'd made her. There came a point where deliberate and cautioned attempts to squirm and pick at her knots devolved into panicked and labored struggles that on more than one occasion nearly had her chairbound form tumbling to the floor. Intrusive thoughts of what they might do with her if she couldn't escape started to seep in, causing her to let out heavily stifled whines of panic with each fruitless and frantic tug against her cruel binds. But in the end she was a victim not only to the evil of the men holding her captive, but to the callous unfeeling march of time. They were coming back, and she could feel the heaviness of the tears starting to well in her wide eyes when they finally returned for her...

[twola]

Would it be possible to get some high honor!Arthur x reader thigh riding? 👀 Love your characterization of him!!

Y'all want the heck out of this specifically. I have three requests for the same thing! Here you go😚

Thank God for Whiskey

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI ➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

Thank God for whiskey.

No, specifically, Arthur Morgan wants to thank a God he had never thought much of to bless him with whiskey tonight. It’s warm in his belly - the calmness of slight inebriation coursing through veins.

Your blush-stained cheeks are downright adorable as you reach toward him, leaning against that tree. He was not in the most social of moods tonight, smoking a cigarette further away from the campfire than usual. You float to him, your path not quite a straight line, but your eyes shine with just the right amount of gaiety.

"Mister Morgan, why are you out here by y'self?" Your foot glances against a root of the large tree and you stumble forward, and immediately Arthur drops his cigarette to catch you, his hands quickly circling your waist, steadying you and helping you to stand again.

"Watch out there, sweetheart. Almost took a tumble there."

"Nuh-uh, you caught me." You laugh, your hands moving to grip his forearms, "Knew you would."

"Now that's puttin' quite a bit of faith in me." He retorts, but does not remove his hands from you. You do not remove your hands from him.

"Some goddamn faith." Your voice lowers to imitate the boisterous leader of the gang, but you can barely finish the sentence without devolving into giggles.

Arthur snorts, half a grin sliding across his face.“C’mon, should get you to bed there.”

"Nooo, come with me. Wanna show you somethin."

Somehow, some way, you’ve dragged him further away from the campfire, back a bit into the woods. You point to a fallen log in the small clearing and he chuckles as he follows your order.

"Now what did you want to show me?" Arthur groans softly as he sits, his back sore from a day in the saddle.

You smile, stepping closer to where he perches.

"Nothin, just wanted to do this." You lean in immediately, before he can recoil and press your lips to his for a moment.

He stares, flabbergasted, but that gives you the opportunity to climb in his lap without any resistance, your hands grabbing greedily at his shirt as you perch yourself on one of his legs, facing him.

At that point, he gains just a bit composure and grabs your hips as you yank on the black bandana he has tied around his neck. Your lips mash together again, and after several moments, one of his hands trails up your back to wrap around the nape of your neck as he opens his mouth to you, and you greedily accept with a loud moan.

He cannot help but to groan in response, his tongue pressing into your mouth as your arms fly around his shoulders.

Thank God for whiskey.

He loses track of time there, tongues pressing against each other, his hands roaming all over your back, yours carding through his shorn hair.

It isn’t long until your rocking your hips atop him, and when you give a whine as you fully straddle his saddle-hewn thigh, he swears he goes lightheaded as all of his blood runs south.

Christ, you’re moaning like a whore as you dig your fingers into his shoulders, dragging your cunt along the hard bone of his femur. So damn close to his steel-hard cock, your thigh brushes it and his teeth carefully latch down on your shoulder. He needs to stifle the groan threatening to escape somehow.

You pant in his ear, whining in a needy high register as you thrust your hips back and forth, aided by his large hands clenched around your hips.

“That’s it, c’mon there darlin’, I know you’re gettin’ close.” He rumbles into your skin, tone husky and voice rough.

Christ, he’s getting close himself. Your desperate mewling and grinding of your cunt down on his leg has got him bucking up to meet you, his fingers digging into your skirts.

“Ar- Art- ngh - Arthur-” You moan, and he cups your ass fully, dragging you over his thigh.

Thank God for whiskey.

You’re goddamn beautiful when you come, your head thrown back, hips thrown hard against his leg, he swears he can feel a dampening spot on his trousers from your cunt.

One large hand flies up from your hips as you begin to still and yanks at your blouse, exposing the swell of your breast. He immediately moves his lips upon it, a mouthful of your skin stifling the groan as his hips buck up. He pulls you with his other hand, your thigh flush up to the bulge in his pants, and you whimper as he sucks on your breast hard.

A ring of teeth make indentations in your skin as he bucks up and spends himself in his pants.

It’s a moment before he unlatches his mouth from your breast, skin spit slicked and red.

The two of you stare at each other, panting, hair askew, breathless. Suddenly sober enough to realize what you had just done. Your slick noticeable along the seam of your bloomers. His spend cooling within his union suit.

Arthur internally curses.

Shit, did you regret what you just did? Was the fire in you just the whiskey burning off? Of course it was, how could a pretty, sweet little think like you want an old, washed up outlaw like him?

You frown slightly as he can feel his cheeks burning red with shame. In an instant, your hands move from his shoulder to the collar of his shirt, and you yank him into a smothering kiss. He is only surprised for a moment before his hands fly to your ass again, and he pulls you flush against him. Maybe in the morning, you’ll blush when you look at him with that pretty little smile.

Maybe you’ll wake up in his arms.

Thank God for whiskey.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

just thought of a very sleepy nik w his hair ruffled and he's so so so warm and soft and i just died .im gone . How does Price not lose his mind at that sight

Anon, I think he actually would. I think it would be a full blown case of Price.exe has stopped working, 404 Error, bluescreening fuckery.

I think it would happen the first time he used his leave to spend time with Nik. Until then, their relationship had been fully and inextricably tangled in their work; snatched affection between operations, maybe sharing a cot or sleeping bag in a tent, a bed in a grotty rundown hotel but they still have to be up at the arse crack of dawn so they never get that full morning experience.

When they become "official", Nik asks Price whether they can spend some time away and Price, who has never had a reason to take leave beyond injury, gingerly books it in. Feels like he's breaking the law somehow, and Major MacMillan just calls him a "feckin' twat" with that sheepish look on his face.

Nik flies them to a little chateau in the south of France that belongs to a... uh, friend. Price doesn't ask any questions. They arrive late at night, shower, and tumble into bed because it has been a seriously exhausting few months. Price wakes at 5.30am because his body clock is wired that way after so many years. He leaves Nik to sleep because he looked absolutely shagged the previous day; perhaps he'd been up for over 24 hours due to an op.

Price goes for a walk into the little village for some pastries and coffees, enjoys the scenery and plans a few longer hikes in those distant hills, and then wanders his way back.

He expects Nik to be awake and standing on in the kitchen, but he isn't, so Price arranges breakfast on a tray and carries it upstairs, feeling all chuffed with himself that he's doing something romantic.

He stops in the doorway, his shoulder butting into the doorframe as he takes a moment to drink in the sight before him.

Nik is still tucked up in bed, the white sheets pooled around his waist, an arm beneath the pillow that cradles his head like a giant marshmallow. He is the most peaceful Price has ever seen him, hair ruffled, big chest and shoulders rising and falling in an even rhythm, completely out of it. His lips are slightly parted, stubbled jaw with its masculine lines all snuggled down into the softness of the bed.

Price has seen many a sunset, a mountain range, rainforests with rare and colourful animals, flowers. He's seen all seven wonders of the world. None of those compare to the sight of the man he loves safe, snug and relaxed in all those blankets.

And he's... well, he's Price's, right?

Price sets the tray down and sits carefully on the edge of the bed. He strokes the hair out of Nik's face and it's enough to stir Nik from whatever sweet dreams he was enjoying. He blinks awake, groggy, briefly confused, but it soon melts into a sleepy smile. "Dobroye utro, John," he murmurs, deep voice all sleep rough. "You are... dressed."

"Went for a walk," Price says. "Got breakfast."

"Hmm." Nik stretches his long legs out, seizes in a full body flex, like a bear waking from hibernation. "I would like an appetiser."

"An appe--?"

Price doesn't get to finish. In fact, his question devolves into an undignified yelp because Nik strikes like a bleedin' KorTac specialist and drags Price back under the blankets, making quick work of burrowing him out of his clothes. Turns out Price is the appetiser and holidays make Nik horny as all hell. Who knew.

[someonexsomeone]

Suneater

Title: Suneater

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 8.4k (...oh)

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin Pureblood np!reader

Summary: Sirius has another best friend, and James just can't figure out what to do about it.

Warnings: angst, mentions of suicide, mentions of traditional values and arranged marriages

Authors Note: so uh...i did not expect this to be this long, and also not at all what I thought this would be. originally inspired by Leanna Firestone's song Suneater, this was supposed to be a happier fic, but i couldn't stop thinking about the line "But I am just the one who swallowed the moon // The only light that I have's just a reflection of you" so the original fic was a black cat x golden retriever and then somehow...this? please let me know what you think!

if you or anyone you know needs help, please call 988 (USA) or contact your local hotline. You are loved, you are needed.

Companion piece: Stardrinker

James was completely stumped. As a distinctly Light family, the Potters didn’t have much reason to attend Dark Pureblood gatherings, let alone interact with them beyond the odd time here and there, but he knows of your family, in the same way he knew of the Black’s - speculation, word of mouth, gossip. Neither he nor his family have any personal memories of you, and it seemed like no one else he knew was friends with you. You were a complete mystery to everyone…but his best friend.

When they first started Hogwarts, Sirius made it clear his stance on Slytherin families - keep as far away from them as possible, prank from a distance, target the ones he knew had evil in their hearts. James was more than pleased to go along with this. After all, a whole pool of targets just for the taking, and he didn’t have to feel guilty at all? It seemed so easy. 

Sirius was ruthless with his attacks, cackling with glee as he sent stinging hexes in their direction or watching with mirth as they got caught in a trap. But when James launched a dungbomb in your direction, singeing your hair into an uneven mess, Sirius dropped everything to rush over, apology already tumbling out of his mouth despite the fury on your face. He even escorted you to the Matron, and looked incredibly guilty as the two of you walked back into the Great Hall sporting a new hairdo and fear on your faces. You returned to not speaking to each other, just as you always had, but Sirius seemed to glance over at the Slytherin table a little more frequently. Since then, none of the Marauders dared to prank near you, but with the rest of the house being easy pickings, James didn’t spare you another thought.

Then, summer before Fifth year happened. It was going to be their year, full of new pranks, new status, and, even better, a new plan to help Moony with his…time of the month. Sirius, as usual, spent the beginning of summer at the Pottery, spending hours at a time trying to find their animagus form, and, eventually, trying to change species. His parents were good at giving them space to play to their heart's content, and it warmed James’s heart to see them dote on Sirius just as much as they did as him. Especially as June faded into July, and Sirius’ dread to return home increased with every passing day.

Halfway through their break, at the height of the Dark Wanker Gatherings, the very color name Sirius gave the period of summer when the Dark Pureblood’s season of parties came to a head (as the heir to the Noble House of Black, Sirius was expected to attend the biggest ones, meaning James hardly got to see him until the start of the school year), Sirius all but disappeared. The house was far too quiet without him, and his letters were sparse of details, worrying James despite the countless summers they had gone through this previously. Despite Peter and Remus’s best attempts, James just wasn’t the same without his best friend around. Their friendly games of Quidditch lacked the usual competitiveness, their conversations quickly devolved into pooling the little information Sirius gave each of them, and there were only so many Sugar Quills one could eat before their stomach turned in on itself in worry. It was why James was always the first to arrive at the Platform at the start of the year, determined to figure out what happened to his best friend, even though Sirius always managed to change the subject without giving any answers. 

So, color him surprised when, instead of rushing onto the train and locating his friends like usual, Sirius lingered after saying goodbye to his parents, the very people he never wanted to be near. When you and your family stepped through, Sirius’s eyes lit up. He made a beeline to you as soon as you finished your goodbye’s, pulling you to a secluded corner, only barely visible from where James was practically hanging out of the compartment window to see. The two of you whispered to one another before you hugged, then parted ways.

And ever since then, Sirius was always looking out for you. Instead of the tense silence you usually kept, James watched as your face lit up (no smile, that was far too obvious, but your eyes seemed to sparkle whenever they landed on him), stepping away from your usual posse of stuck up Purebloods to speak to Sirius. They seemed just as flabbergasted, until it started to happen so frequently they did nothing but offer a silent sneer, knowing better than to wait for you to finish your conversation. But James remained, always standing just close enough to catch snippets, but never the whole story. Instead of sulking in his room or yelling at whoever dared to disturb him on bad days, Sirius disappeared completely, only to be spotted with you within the hour, a more relaxed look on his face. He never missed a full moon, at least he kept that promise to his friends, but you were always one of the first visitors they had in the morning, leaving a get well soon treat for Sirius to eat as soon as he woke up. 

All this to say, it wasn’t as if you and Sirius were attached at the hip, but it was hard not to notice the seemingly new affection you had for one another, and the change of priority, leaving James to seek you out in order to find his friend on more than one occasion.

Neither Remus nor Peter knew anything about what caused this shift in your friendship, but all it took was a little comment from Peter (“Maybe…maybe they’re together together.” followed by a scandalized look from Remus), to send them into a spiral. 

“Sirius? Keeping a secret from us? Especially one as big as a…No! No way!” James refuted, pout evident on his face.

Because there was absolutely no way Sirius was going to keep something like this to himself. James was the first to know about Sirius’ first kiss, his first make out, his first shag! He was there when Sirius confessed to his first girlfriend, then his first boyfriend, then his first…partner? James forgot the name but either way! He was there! And now…what? Sirius was too ashamed to admit he was dating a Slytherin? Surely he knew there was no way. And, if he was dating, then there was no way he would pick a Slytherin unless they had something really special about them.

Despite Remus and Peter’s fervent arguments against it, James swore himself to a new goal - Mission Impossible: Figure Out Why Sirius Thinks a Slytherin Is Better Choice Than Literally Anyone Else in the School; I Mean Come On There Are Three Other Houses-- (“That’s far too long a name anyway!” Remus shouted indignantly).

He was already spending time lingering when you and Sirius chatted in the halls, so he tried to join in, actually listen instead of grumbling to himself about how long it was taking. You gave him an incredulous look the first time he did it, scampering away much too quickly for Sirius’s liking, if his saddened face was anything to go by. His second and third attempts were met with the same response, so James dropped his attempt, too soft to continue if Sirius was gonna keep giving him that kicked puppy look.

Then, he tried to join you and Sirius for your study sessions, figuring, what could go wrong? The library was a quiet place, and there wasn’t an easy escape if he positioned himself correctly, and you were very dedicated to keeping Sirius’s grades up (from what he’d been told anyway, this was, after all, the first time he ever willingly wanted to spend time with you). Sirius was hesitant to allow him to come when he asked, so he decided to drop by unannounced instead. Sirius’s welcoming smile was more than enough to override your glare, though it was clear this interruption was less than welcome, as no more work got done, and the boys were kicked out almost immediately. You were clear in your instruction to Sirius, whispered quietly but not quiet enough, that James was not welcome if he was going to be so noisy.

So, sneaking had become his last resort. It was hard, what with his friend group practically spending every minute together, but despite Remus’s warning, James scurried off whenever Sirius did. It took several weeks, and several pathetic attempts before James was finally able to catch you and Sirius alone. He didn’t think he was above snooping, especially with all the attempts recently, but there was a tiny bit of guilt that underlined his successful movements as he snuck down the hall, hidden from yours and Sirius’ watchful eyes, all thanks to his Invisibility Cloak. Sirius had that look about him, whipping his head back and forth, something he always did with James when he set up a prank without anyone noticing. 

Something big was happening, and it had to be discussed without any prying eyes.

“Sirius, it’s alright,” you spoke lowly, so much so that James had to get a little too close for comfort to hear you. Sirius’ head perked up at the somewhat loud swish of the cloak, but when he didn’t see anything, he turned back to you, pushing you into an alcove of the hallway.

“Alright?! Are you mad?” Though he still had a grip on your arm, James could tell it was gentle, so lightly that you easily could have pulled away at any time. And, to his surprise, you didn’t, instead laying your hand on his with a gentleness he’d never seen from you before.

“This was something we always knew was going to happen,” you squeezed his hand, face stoney, “it was only a matter of time--”

“They’re selling you off like cattle! They don’t care about your life!”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” To this, your face darkened.

“I am not like you, Sirius.” This was the Slytherin attitude James was used to. Poisonous words spouting from your mouth, eyes narrowed to a glare. You didn’t have to push Sirius’s hand away, your now icy stare was enough to have him pull away first. “You and your precious friends can galavant around and do whatever you please, no matter the consequences, but the moment I show weakness, or displeasure towards my family, I will have no one. My friends--”

“Are no real friends if all it takes is standing up for yourself to have them disappear!”

“They know better than anyone that we don’t have any other choice--”

“So, what? You’ll marry the old coot and be the perfect little house--”

“And what would you suggest I do?” Sirius opened and closed his mouth several times, fury on his face, unwilling to admit that maybe you were right. In a house where betraying those thought to be your friends is commonplace, what option did you have? If James was right in following along, though it was incredibly hard with how quickly the two of you whispered, if you rejected this marriage arrangement, your parents would undoubtedly kick you out. With the friends he’s seen you with, there was no chance any of them would reach out in good will, especially since you’d have lost all the power via your family name. 

There had never been a Slytherin in his life that he felt empathy towards, but this…this was something even he could not see a way out of.

“Surely leaving your family to be free is better than being locked in a gilded cage,” Sirius finally settled on.

“Freedom always comes with a cost, and this one is far too great.” Sirius’s eyes lowered to a glare.

“So that’s it.” 

Oh no. James could feel the anger radiating from his friend, the same anger that has landed him more than a few detentions over the years. This was the anger that led to the initial discovery of Moony’s condition, the screaming match that had Sirius follow Remus into the woods. This was the anger that almost broke their friendship in third year, and the anger that nearly got him expelled for attacking another student. 

This was the anger that made Sirius reckless. 

“You give everything up and stay that obedient Pureblood you’ve always been, and be miserable forever. Well, I can’t watch you do that. I can’t watch you stoop so low, so pathetic,” --James nearly reached out, desperate to stop Sirius from saying anything more to destroy what you two had-- “and try to kill yourself again.” 

Too late. The most emotion he had ever seen from you flicker across your face, hurt turned to anger turned to resentment in one fluid motion. Sirius, as angry as he was, seemed to notice as well, snapping his mouth shut as soon as the words left his mouth. Almost as if an invisible wall appeared between you, you both stepped back, as far as the small alcove allowed.

“Yes, you’re right. How pathetic of me.” You bowed lowly, despite Sirius’s efforts to stop you. “I’ll take my leave then, so your virtue won’t be sullied by the likes of me. Regards to the most Noble and Ancient House of Black.”

James turned on his heel, too embarrassed in his attempts to snoop to watch any further. Sirius chased you down in the opposite direction, calling your name until his echoes finally stopped. When James returned, it only took a look to stop any questions from his other dormmates. Sirius’s late return, the lethal combination of sadness and anger that had him lashing out at anything he could see, was answer enough.

James tried to keep the facade of innocence for the rest of the term, thanking Merlin that it was just a short month away. It was far easier than he hoped, with everyone immersed with their OWLs, but it didn’t do much to stop the guilt of having witnessed such a private and personal conversation. Sirius continued to look for you whenever he could, desperate to catch your eye, but you were just as stubborn as his friend was it seemed; even though James caught you several times watching Sirius when no one else was looking. 

Sirius spent the beginning of summer with him as normal, riding on their brooms and keeping their minds as far away from the drama waiting back at Hogwarts. James tried a couple times to ask about you, but Sirius would clam up immediately, snapping at him or immediately changing the subject. By the time the Dark Wanker Gatherings started up again, Sirius seemed to have calmed down some, resigning his anger into a facade of apathy, the kind James seriously disliked. He only hoped your absence wouldn’t make his disappearing act worse.

Then, in the middle of summer, you appeared. 

Or rather, you and Sirius appeared, Flooing into his home in the middle of dinner, fancy clothing covered in blood. Your face was panicked, strained against the weight of his friend, who seemed too out of it to stand properly. His Mother screamed at the intrusion, and both James and his father rushed over to take the weight off of you. It seemed all Pureblood customs flew out the window with the desperate need to help Sirius, as you immediately barked orders to take him to the nearest bathroom with a bathtub. Once situated, you started peeling away Sirius’s clothes, revealing the various cuts across his body.

“Hey! What are you--” But you simply silenced him with a wave of your hand, pushing him out of the room and slamming the door in his face. “What the fu--”

“James!” Euphemia’s glare was enough to have him shutting up. “Why don’t you two go back down and finish dinner. Polly spent a lot of time making it.”

“But Sirius--”

“Is obviously in capable hands.” His Father patted a heavy hand on his shoulder, leading him away without another word. Before they made it back down stairs, James caught the gentle knock she rapped on the bathroom door (of her own house!), quietly entering with a, “Is there anything I can get you, dear?”

“A house elf, the one you trust the most. And my apologies for…” your voice faded as they returned to the dining room.

Sirius was up by the time he woke the following morning. James tried several times to see Sirius throughout the night, but you were as strict as you were terrifying, guarding the room like a loyal watchdog until James was too tired to try again. And here you were again, dressed in borrowed clothes and carefully stroking Sirius’s long hair into a complicated braid, pulling strands away from his face so it wouldn’t fall into the bowl of soup he was nursing. Sirius’s face lit up when he saw James enter the room, clambering to get up. His own injuries stopping him from getting far, wincing and slumping back into his chair.

“You can’t move too quickly,” you chastised quietly, trying off the end of his hair. The easy way Sirius let you touch him, to have his guard down completely, caused a shift in James. A Slytherin providing comfort? It was unheard of to him. But here it was, right in front of him, an easy relationship that existed out of two people caring deeply for one another. 

Just like his parents. 

James felt a pang of jealousy go through him.

“Sorry, Prongs. Gotta listen to the Medi—,” Sirius stopped, grimaced as you pulled lightly on his hair. “What? I wouldn’t want anyone else helping me back to health.”

“And now that you are back to being your annoying self, I must be off.” Sirius tried to stand, but your gentle hand was enough to have him stop. “Rest. And thank you, for everything.” 

As Sirius was out of commission, James was the one to walk you to the Floo, taking his parent’s robe from you at your thanks. You straightened out your hair as best as possible, fixing small details of your outfit to hide what you had been up all night, as James wrung his hands, debating whether he should say anything at all. When you reached for the Floo powder, he finally spoke.

“Thank you,” he managed. Your hand paused midair, but it was the only indication you gave to show you were listening. “Thank you for bringing him here. We’ll take good care of him.”

“He’s too proud to ask for help,” you said in response. “But he’s lucky to have someone like you in his life.”

“And like you.” To this, you scoffed, finally turning to look at him.

“I seem to only bring him trouble.”

“He does that fine on his own.” The small uptick of your lips was easy confirmation to your agreement. “But seriously. I’ve never seen him so happy to talk to someone before, and he talks to a lot of people.” When you didn’t say anything, James flushed. “I mean--”

“I’m lucky to have whatever part he’s willing to give me.” And with a flourish, you disappeared into the fireplace.

James never did find out what happened that caused Sirius’s injuries that summer. After a lengthy conversation (the lengthy conversation in question - Sirius: “I pissed my family off and now I’ve been disowned.”, James: “Oh, perfect. I’ve always wanted you as a brother.”), Sirius was unofficially officially adopted into his family. His parents took Sirius to St.Mungos a couple times to make sure everything was okay, but otherwise, the rest of summer was spent just as blissfully enjoyable as the beginning. Only this time, James didn’t have to worry about Sirius having to return to his awful family every night. They stayed up until the sun began to rise, sneaking into each other's room to spend the night, terrorizing the neighborhood with their loud voices until the sun rose. 

And, you were there. Not directly, not with the new disgraced title Sirius proudly bore, but in letters and conversation. Sirius now spoke freely and openly about you, how you had always been there to help him with his horrible upbringing, the way you always seemed to know what to do to help. Sirius admitted to getting into that final fight for you, for your honor, but didn’t elaborate any further. He spent many mornings at James’s desk writing to you, updating you on the new freedom he had, and making sure you were alright. That he’d be there in the drop of a hat if you needed him. 

Now that James was included in the conversation, willingly and welcomed this time, he was able to see how witty you were, how you weren’t just the Pureblood Slytherin he thought you were, but a genuinely good person for Sirius to be influenced by. You easily scolded him when needed, and praised him without letting his ego inflate too largely. Though you were only there in writing, it was easy to see the easy affection Sirius had for you, and vice versa. And, with James being let in somewhat on the secret friendship you shared, how deep it actually was, almost all the tension released from between the three of you. He even got to apologize for butting in so often last year, to which you waved him off with a promise not to do it again.

So, when sixth year started, and he got to see you for the first time in person since that fateful morning, it was like he’d never seen you before. And, all the better, it seemed you were determined to talk to Sirius, even if it meant you got some nasty glares from your housemates. James liked that about you.

So, he made the effort. When you or Sirius walked up to one another, James stayed close, engaging in conversation. Though you looked shocked, Sirius always gave him a broad smile, the prospect of two special people in his life becoming friends made him giddier than James ever thought possible. And Sirius was very open about that fact, throwing his arms around you and James mid conversation to squish you into a group hug. It didn’t take much to get the rest of his friends involved.

Your study sessions now involved all the Marauders, Remus sending you a thankful smile whenever you managed to calm the rowdiest of them down, comparing notes for class. Peter trailed after you happily, using you as a type of shield from the rest of the Slytherins when you walked together to class. You joined them on Hogsmeade trips, a quiet companion as they carried you from place to place. You never questioned what got them in so much trouble they ended up in the hospital wing once a month, but you did start to bring all of them a little treat for them to wake up to. Sirius started joking about you replacing him in the Marauders, to which you answered with a smack to the back of the head.

And James? Well James seemed to seek you out more and more without realizing it. If Sirius sat on your right, he would take your left. When needing a partner for class, he and Sirius would fight for the honor of being your partner, despite the fact that you already began working with someone else. He looked for you in the Slytherin crowd during quidditch matches, easily spotting you as the only person not booing at their victories. You and he would walk to class together, then hang out alone before the others joined. Your one on one time only increased as you got closer. You stayed up late to help him with classwork he struggled with, patient as ever, even if you did take every opportunity to poke fun at him with that deviously dry wit. You even helped Sirius with a joint gift, a box the size of his hand that would fit anything inside it and could only be opened by him. It was the first time he hugged you without Sirius’s intervention.

“Woah, woah, woah! Back it up!” Sirius said in his best imitation of an angry tone, but his smile was too contagious.

Yes, you butt heads. James’ lackadaisical attitude got on your nerves, sometimes done on purpose because James just loved to get a rise out of you, and your uptight scholarly nature often rivaled Remus, but at the end of the day, it was clear that there was a deep respect for one another, something that blossomed without either of you knowing. James would steal food from your plate without asking, loudly teasing you when you reprimanded him, but he would always replace it with some of your favorites, an unspoken apology. You would call him names (dimwit, airhead, and bludger brain to name a few), but you were always there for him at the end of the day, quietly praising his ingenuity, genuinely asking his opinion on matters.

It was why the guilt of the knowledge of your arranged marriage was starting to eat at him, a secret you didn’t know he knew. It was especially bad on days when that dreaded silver envelope arrived, since you frequently sought out Sirius. He recognized the crest on the back, an old and very Pureblood house, that no doubt had to belong to your fiance. You would crush the letter in your grip after skimming it, catching Sirius’ eye from across the room. No words needed to be said for him to stand, meeting you at the entrance hall. It was rare to see either of you for several hours after that. It was routine at that point.

But today was different. Sirius was in an early morning detention, cleaning McGonagall’s classroom after a series of pranks rendered the board useless, and you were nearly hyperventilating as the silver envelope fell into your lap. James only noticed because you were out of your seat faster than he’d ever seen you move, eyes glistening. He was following behind you before he realized what he was doing.

“Wait!” Your head whipped around at his voice, wiping your wet cheeks in an attempt to hide any evidence of your sadness. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s Sirius?”

“He’s in detention--what’s wrong?”

“It’s…” A group of giggling second years passed by, watching their interaction with interest. You instantly clammed up, face slacking into apathy. ”It’s nothing.”

James shook his head before tugging you down the hall. Despite your protests, he led you to one of the many secret passages, pulling you until you were in an unused hallway, rows and rows of empty classrooms creating the perfect hiding place. He didn’t speak until the two of you were in one, locking the door firmly behind him, and covering it with an anti-eavesdropping charm.

“What’s wrong?” Without a word, you held the letter out to him.

My Darling Angel, it read, handwriting barely legible with how shaky it was. Do not fret any longer, for your Father and I have finally come to an agreement. Though your price was a hefty one, I have been assured you are well worth it. In merely a years time---

“You’re getting married?” In a year's time, the summer of your Seventh Year, you were going to be a bride. James’s stomach twisted into knots. Tears piled up to the edges of your lash line.

“I spoke to my Father every summer, showing him my grades and my prospects, anything I could to have him increase his greed for more. I thought if I could keep going, just for a little longer, he would become so unreasonable, no one would want to pay my dowry. After all, why would they?” You sniffed, then furiously rubbed at your face, trying to stop the tears from falling. “I am no one special. Surely there are better prospects--”

“Woah, hey!” Your hands were moving too fast, too erratically, for his liking. As gently as he could, remembering the way Sirius acted, he pulled your hands away from your face. Rubbed raw with nail marks, you didn’t even seem to realize you were hurting yourself. 

“James,” his name was said in such sorrow, his very being rattled in sympathy, “what am I going to do?”

So he did the only thing he could think of. He pulled you close, cradling you to his body. You seemed to freeze at the contact. This wasn’t the friendly hug from his birthday, or the forced contact Sirius often made you do. This was something more.

“We’ll think of something,” he promised into your hair. With the gentle grip he had you in, it was easy to pull back and gaze upon the sincerity on his face. He gave you a small, crooked smile. “We won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.”

So, for the first time, you latched onto James, holding him tight enough to hurt, and wailed into his chest, mourning the life you tried so hard to protect.

For a moment, James allowed himself to be a little greedy, keeping you close enough to let your smell flood his senses. He allowed his hands to roam your back, feeling, as if for the first time, the way your clothes felt against your body, the heat of your being. He allowed himself to enjoy how you felt against him, how for once, instead of the proud Slytherin you always portrayed yourself to be, you allowed him to take care of you instead of the other way around. You seemed to fit perfectly in his arms, and, as ashamed as he was to think it, there was a part of him that loved how you trusted him to show this vulnerable part of yourself. You only ever show it to…

Then, with startling clarity, James realized he was holding you, Sirius’s person, in his arms, in a locked classroom, hidden away from the rest of the school. That same school who watched you run out of the hall with James following close behind. Those second years watched him pull you away! 

Before he could do something stupid, probably throw himself away from you, you pulled away first. Or, really, you yanked yourself away, wand raised with a Tempus spell showing the two of you were about to be very late to your first lesson.

“Thank you, James,” you whispered without looking at him, before you bolted to the door. His heart fluttered--

Oh, crap.

“I need to talk to you.” Sirius shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was at James’s sudden appearance, pulling him away from Marlene and Dorcas. The two, used to the strange way the Marauders always seemed to find one another, turned back to their conversation without another glance. James hauled Sirius up to their dorm by his collar. He had been looking all day for Sirius, with little success. It was just his luck that today, of all days, was filled with classes neither shared, and Sirius had to use his lunch hour to finish McGonagall’s room. And now, when Remus and Peter were meeting up with you to study for your Arithmancy exam, it was probably the best time he’d get. 

And there was just one thing Sirius needed to confess to, before James exploded.

“I know your secret. So please just admit it so I can tell you how bad of a friend I am.”

“Woah, woah woah. What?” When Sirius met James’s serious expression, his face turned from jovial to terrified. “...what?”

“I know, okay?” Sirius opened and closed his mouth, and if it was any other conversation, James would have poked fun at him for looking like a fish.

“You…know?” James nodded once firmly. Sirius swore, slumping down onto the nearest bed. “We were so careful!” At this, James raised a brow.

“You weren’t careful at all! Everyone knows!” Sirius paled.

“...everyone?”

“Well, everyone that knows you.” James eyed Sirius’ expression. With a shuddering breath, Sirius dragged a hand down his face. “You seem surprised.”

“Yeah, a little,” Sirius laughed, but it was far too breathy to be sincere. “I’ve only just convinced���Was I so obvious?”

“You always look for each other. And, even though it started off rough, you’ve gotten really close recently.” He clapped a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. The approval, how easy James gave it, had Sirius’ whole body relax, practically curling into himself. “You deserve each other.”

“Tell him for me, won’t you?” Sirius rolled his eyes, far more playful than he had been. “I’ve only been telling him every day for the last year. I mean, I know Moony’s dense, but I didn’t think it’d take this much convincing.”

“...what?”

“You know him as well as I do, mate. He doesn’t handle affection well. Especially mine.” Sirius laughed, this time much more heartily, his shoulders bouncing. James’ hand fell to his side, but Sirius hardly noticed, practically bouncing from giddiness. “Wow, it feels great to say it out loud.”

James continued to stare at him, mouth agape.

“Now that you know, this is perfect!” He jumped up, excess energy pushing him to his desk, rummaging through the pile of papers before pulling one out. “I’ve got so many plans! I’m thinking next full moon, I'll sneak into his hospital bed, bring some strawberries and chocolate, you know, romance stuff. I’ve been planning for months the best way to do it, but you know Moony. Be nice to him and he clams up, so I’ve been thinking--”

When Sirius turned around, James was slumped where Sirius had just been, the only difference being James’ shocked face to Sirius’ dread.

“What?” Sirius laughed. “Didn’t think I’d have a plan? I’m going all the way with this!”

“You--Moony? But I thought…--” Now it was Sirius’ turn to be confused.

“Why do you look like that?”

“You like Moony?!” Sirius dropped the piece of paper, his dread returning.

“You didn’t--” He coughed, like the words were strangling him. “You didn’t know?”

“No!!” James jumped up. “Since when have you liked…?”

“Oh,” SIrius scratched the back of his head, hair falling out of the messy braid that had your signature all over it. “When you said you knew my secret, I thought--” He suddenly narrowed his eyes, and James grew meek, chest and cheeks flushing red. “What secret did you think I had?”

So, what originally was a conversation James was severely dreading, turned into the most honest conversation they’d had in a while. James bared his heart to his best friend, explaining the guilt that had been eating at him since his birthday, worried he was a horrible friend. How he had only fallen for you harder as you hung out more, how he couldn’t stop thinking about you, but didn’t want to do anything to upset either you or Sirius by stepping over boundaries. How he was there for you when you heard confirmation of your upcoming marriage (Sirius looked angrier than he had in a while when James revealed that small development), and it only solidified what he already suspected, and how your tears felt like burning lava on his skin.

Sirius, in turn, explained how he and Moony had gotten closer now that Sirius knew you had other people looking after you, namely the other Marauders. His new free time was spent with Moony, who didn’t think anything of it, until their playful wrestling got out of hand and Sirius kissed him. James vaguely remembered Remus acting strange, but attributed it to the upcoming moon, one where he was much more affectionate towards Sirius than his usual transformations. He talked about the way he had been trying to convince Remus ever since that day that his feelings were real, that it wasn’t just a spur of the moment mistake, but a budding of affection ever since Sirius was freed of his family's clutches.

So, when they finally calmed themselves down, after a massive cry fest that ended in them hugging, promising not to ever keep secrets ever again, and a series of firing each other up, they rushed to the very object of their affections.

“Moony!” Sirius practically tackled Remus as he and Peter walked down the hall, hands stained in ink and stomachs rumbling. Remus stood no chance against the delighted dog, books flying from his hands as he landed on the floor, wind knocked out of him.

“Wh--” But Sirius had already crawled atop him, mouth pushed resolutely against his. Remus struggled only for a moment, before returning the kiss desperately, hands clutching anything he could reach, settling on Sirius’ back and hair.

“Great Merlin!” Peter exclaimed, nearly tripping over his feet to get away from the two heavily making out on the floor. James let out a laugh, rushing over to help his…unoccupied…friend. “But he-- and Sirius--”

“Well, there goes all those plans.” James joked. Sirius and Remus finally pulled away after another moment of kissing, both panting, but faces alight in pure happiness as they gazed at each other. “Okay, Loverboys, no public displays of affection while we’re around, okay? At least until we’re used to it.”

“Prongs…,” Remus whined miserably, face flushing a brilliant red, only disrupted by the white of his facial scars. Sirius grinned wolfishly, pressing a loud, wet kiss in the space between Remus’ shoulder and collar, doing nothing to help. “Padfoot!”

Peter was still staring at them, mouth agape, even as the two stood.

“Where’s—“ James started, looking around. It was strange to not see you with the other Marauders, especially since you should have been with them for the last hour or so to study.

“Huh??” Peter shook his head violently, finally having the decency to wipe away his shock. When he noticed James’ wandering eyes, he clarified. “Oh uh, Astronomy Tower, I think? Needed space to think or something?”

“But I thought you guys were studying--”

“Never showed.” Remus’ nonchalance was not eagerly received. James whipped his head to Sirius, who was already looking worried. You hadn’t shown up? But that’s hours where you’re unaccounted for!

“James!” Sirius’ panic was clear. In an instant, the day James eavesdropped came rushing back, a stone forming in his stomach. “It’s high enough—“

“I’m on it!” Later, James would deal with the consequences of the unneeded explanation. Later, he would address the confused looks on Remus and Peter’s faces, address the shock on Sirius’ for not needing an explanation. Later, he would beg and plead on his knees for Sirius to forgive him for spying on a private conversation, and staying long past knowing it was wrong. Later. It would happen later. Now, he needed to see you.

He’d never run faster in his life, using every shortcut he could think of to make it to the Astronomy Tower in record time. He took the stairs two at a time, practically launching himself onto the platform at the top, breath coming out in hot pants. 

“James?” There you were. His knees nearly gave out in relief (though climbing stairs that fast may have had something to do with it), especially since it didn’t look like you had a scratch on you.

“Oh, thank Merlin. You’re alright!” You only looked at him, rising slightly from where you were leaning over the railing to stare out into the horizon. The sun was going to set soon, causing the glow to illuminate your silhouette, your expression hard to see.

“Of course I’m alright.” James tried to catch his breath quickly, before walking over to you. As he got closer, your features slowly became clearer. There was no evidence of your earlier conversation (how had it only been that morning that you cried into his chest??), and it didn’t look like you had been crying again. He didn’t know whether to be relieved you seemed okay, or worried that you might be bottling your emotions.  “What are you talking about?”

“Sirius said…” The rest of the words died in his throat. You cocked your head. He guiltily looked at you, then the railing. When you didn’t react, he continued, ”He may have mentioned…”

“Oh.” In an instant, you understood, eyes falling into a glare, no doubt upset at having your privacy violated. “I’m not so fragile as to need a bodyguard to care for me all the time.”

“It’s okay if you do.” You rolled your eyes, turning back to look out over the trees. James copied you, resting his elbows on the bar, but angled his body so his sole attention was on the side of your face.

“That’s a sure fire way to get yourself killed in my world,” you grumbled.

“Well in mine,” he cut in, before you could add on, “if a friend is in trouble, you do whatever you can to help them.”

“Even if they don’t need it?”

“Everyone needs help.” He could see the tail end of your eye roll. “But you do it even if they don’t want it.”

With his breathing returning to normal, the space between you fell quiet. When it was clear you weren’t planning to speak anytime soon, he refocused his attention on the skyline, watching as the sky slowly became more and more orange, the sun nearly hiding behind the mountains. It was cooling down, but with summer nearly there, it created the perfect balmy weather to cause mischief late at night. In the distance, he could hear the faint hooting of an owl, from the forest or the school’s owlery, he wasn't sure, and the faint rustling of leaves. It was peaceful up here.

“Did he tell you?” Your voice startled him out of his thoughts, his body jerking.

“What?” If you felt him move, you didn’t show it.

“Sirius. Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not in so many words,” James said, purposefully vague. He felt bad being deceitful, but he had no idea how to explain his predicament, not when you were wringing your hands together like that, body hunching in on itself, like it was trying to hide how vulnerable you were. And, when you took a deep breath, James understood then that you were about to tell him something important, something life changing.

“He was always there. The Ancient and Noble House of Black always needed to be seen, especially at those parties, but I never really interacted with him. Too famous to be seen speaking to my family, or too busy playing the role of a Pureblood Heir to step away from his parents.” You sighed, crossing your arms, leaning your hip against the railing to look at James. His eyes were wide with innocent curiosity. “Sirius was the one who found me on the verge of jumping off the balcony that summer night.”

“Merlin--” He couldn’t believe how nonchalantly you were acting, as if you hadn’t just revealed your most vulnerable moment to him. You plowed on before he could do something embarrassing, like care for you.

“I had just met my soon to be fiance, all leering and wandering hands, and it was too much. The idea of being sold off like cattle, to be a possession instead of my own person, I always knew that’s where my life would end up but…”

It came as no surprise to you that when you started talking, the story seemed to tumble out without you wanting the full truth to be revealed. It came to him suddenly, the realization that this was probably the first time you ever said it out loud, the only person you probably ever felt close enough to tell, Sirius, being there that night meant he already knew everything from his perspective. The hurt in your voice, the emotion you usually kept locked away behind that Slytherin facade, on full display, made it impossible not to react, even though there was a very Sirius-like voice telling him to let you come to him. He couldn’t stop himself, though, when he reached out when you told him about how you screamed that night, brandishing your wand, even as the old coot laughed. He watched as you described the moment they left, your parents doing nothing but laughing along with your dear fiance, leaving you with nothing but the night air, you climbed up, the least graceful thing you had done in who knows however many years, and tipped forward. His hand latched onto yours, the same way he would have that night if he was there.

He tried not to react as you explained how Sirius’ hands clasped around your legs before you could fall, using his momentum to pull you back onto him and the solid ground. You told him how your arms scraped painfully against the stone balcony, but Sirius’ body took most of the brunt of your fall. You could barely hear what Sirius had said at the time over the ringing in your ears, too shocked at the fact that you were alive, that you didn’t fall, didn’t crash into the floor below like you so wanted, too overwhelmed to hear him yelling at you. 

James did the only thing he could and held your hand tighter, keeping you with him, instead of getting swept up in the memory.

He could hear how you tried to keep your voice as even as possible as you spoke, not daring to show any more emotion than you had to, but James could tell. He couldn’t stop his face from contorting in disgust as you described the way your fiance spoke. He felt his eyes widened as you spoke about standing on the edge of the balcony, staring at the sky and not daring to look down. He nearly wept as you described Sirius’ warm embrace, the only thing that kept you grounded at the time. And when you finished, telling him you had to return to normal the following day, hiding what almost happened, he pulled you into his warm hug before he could stop himself.

“James, it’s alright,” you reassured, patting his back as if he was the one who just bared his heart and past, soothing him as best you could.

“It’s not alright!” Though his words were firm, they were not unkind. He pulled away, bringing your hand to his chest, willing you to feel the way it was thumping wildly. “You--you…!”

“It’s all in the past now.”

“The thought that I might never have met you…” He felt you starting to shake, eye swimming with doubt and hesitance.

“...what?”

“You mean so much to me.” His words rattled you, he could tell, but it was nothing compared to the pure determination in his face, not a hint of regret or ulterior motive to be seen. He meant every word. He had to show you he meant every word.

“You hardly know me--”

“Don’t do that,” he begged, his voice coming out weaker than he intended, but there was no way he would be harsh to you now, not after you bared your soul, not while you try to return to that apathetic life you had adapted to for survival over the years. Not if he could help it. “I know you know I’m being sincere. And you know I know you far better than you wish.”

“...what do you want me to say?”

“Say you’ll marry me.”

“What?!” He pulled your hand closer, keeping you as close as you’d allow.

“Not now. Not in five years, not even in ten, not if you don’t want to. But be with me, in any way you’re willing.” Your eyebrows furrowed.

“If this is some cheap Gryffindor chivalry--”

“Not this. Not with you.” He pulled you closer, willing himself not to get his hopes up as you allowed yourself to be pulled a breath away. “I like you. I like you so much I feel my heart beat faster than any Quidditch game would ever make it feel, like it’ll pop out of my chest and flutter around telling everyone who’ll listen how much it feels for you.” You flush at his blatant confession. “I hate your fiance with every fiber of my being for ever making you feel like you don’t have a choice. For making you feel so trapped that you would rather…die,” —his tongue tripped over the word, too overcome with the implication to say it without flinching— “than go through with your marriage.”

“James…”

“It’s not the way I wanted to confess,” he joked sheepishly, before morphing his expression into the most earnest he could will it. “My heart is yours, in any way you want it.”

“I don’t…--”

“I’m offering myself to you,” he clarified earnestly, even as your expression faltered. He lowered his eyes to look at your clasped hands. “Use me however you like. I know Pureblood customs, and this is the way you can get out of it. Marry me, and do whatever you like. Move across the world, or stay by my side. Godric, we could even marry now and divorce immediately if you want!” He met your eyes again. “I just want you to be happy.” 

The silence continued to stretch and stretch. In the last few months of teasing, it was rare you didn’t have some sort of quip to put James back in his place, but now, it seems you didn’t have a single word to say.

He knew it was stupid, the way he said it. But, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Asking you for something simple like puppy love wasn’t going to cut it, not when your very freedom was on the line. As much as James could see himself loving you (he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t already), you didn’t have the luxury of time, not the kind that James wanted to worship you, to prove his earnest feelings the way he knew his parents had, the way Sirius planned to show Remus. But the one thing he could do was make a promise to himself that you would never have to feel stuck again. 

The longer the silence lasted, the more James felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. 

“I’ve just made a fool of myself, haven't I? I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying, and Sirius always said I needed to work on my impulse--”

His knees almost gave out from under him, your clasped hands the only thing keeping him from doing so.

Your lips were softer than he imagined.

______________________________________________________________

masterlist  l hogwarts masterlist

[badger-tales]

Notes//G.W x Reader

Request: would you please be able to write a George weasley x Hufflepuff!reader where he maybe injures her in quidditch or a prank gone wrong and he feels so bad about it and tries to make it up to her???

Word count: 2.2K

By some miracle—or perhaps sheer dumb luck—she had made it six years on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team without breaking a single bone. There had been plenty of close calls: a few bad sprains that kept her limping through Herbology, a fractured wrist after an unfortunate tumble off her broom, and enough bruises to make her look like she lost a fight with a rogue Hippogriff. But never a full break. Not until today. Not until *this* disaster of a match. 

Of course, it had to happen in the first game of the season: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff. A game everyone looked forward to—and one she’d been quietly dreading since she was named captain. Things started going wrong right from the opening whistle, and before she knew it, the match devolved into complete chaos.

It was as if the fates had conspired against her. Her beaters, Pollard and Bennett, were useless, dropping their bats at a crucial moment—who even does that?—leaving her wide open to the bludgers. Her fellow chasers, Arellano and Swanson, somehow managed to track the wrong Gryffindor chaser for most of the match, practically escorting Katie Bell up and down the pitch while Angelina Johnson casually scored goal after goal.

And then, of course, there were the Weasley twins. *One* of them—she could never tell which—sent a bludger hurtling straight toward her hand with an almost artistic precision, as if aiming for maximum pain. In a flash, the bat-sized ball collided with her outstretched fingers, and the snap of bone was loud enough to drown out her own gasp. 

The whole disaster played out in less than two seconds, a symphony of unfortunate moments working in perfect, disastrous harmony. 

And just like that, she was grounded. Their substitute chaser was out sick with dragon pox, so they had no choice but to forfeit the match. Gryffindor celebrated their early-season win with a chorus of cheers, and she was left nursing her broken arm and bruised pride. 

She had only one word to describe the entire ordeal: *shitshow*. 

Madam Pomfrey mended her arm in less time than it took to explain what happened—two minutes of wand work, a flick of Skelegrow, and not a hint of sympathy. The real pain came afterward, though, in the form of a twenty-minute verbal lashing she unleashed on her teammates back in the locker room.

“We’ve been practicing this since *September*! Do you have any idea how hard it is to book the pitch for Tuesdays and Thursdays? How many hours I’ve spent drawing up these plays?” she snapped, pacing back and forth like a restless lioness. Her teammates sat slumped on the benches, still in their mud-streaked uniforms, looking anywhere but at her. 

“And for what? So you two”—she jabbed a finger toward Arellano and Swanson—“could follow *Bell* around like a couple of lost kneazles? Johnson had the bloody Quaffle!” 

Swanson muttered an apology, but she didn’t let up. 

“And you two!” she turned sharply to Pollard and Bennett. “I swear to Merlin, if you *ever* drop those bats again, I’ll *personally* find a way to glue them to your hands. I don’t care if it takes a Permanent Sticking Charm.”

Silence fell over the locker room like a heavy fog. 

“Get it together,” she warned, her voice low and dangerous. “Or I’ll recruit an entirely new team. The *only* person doing their job out there was Diggory.”

Without another word, she yanked her broom from the corner and stalked out of the locker room, the sound of her boots echoing in the empty corridor. Her arm still ached—Pomfrey’s magic was quick, but it never took the sting out entirely—and the throbbing pain matched the growing frustration simmering beneath her skin.

She hadn’t made it far when she heard it: 

“Hey, L/N! Wait up!” 

She stopped dead in her tracks, shoulders tensing. She knew that voice. And of course, because the universe *loved* testing her patience, George Weasley came jogging up beside her, looking annoyingly cheerful for someone who’d just shattered her hand.

“Not now, Weasley,” she said flatly, gripping her broom tighter. “I’m *really* not in the mood.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Are you mad at me for breaking your arm?” he asked, easily matching her brisk pace.

She let out a sigh through clenched teeth, her stomach growling irritably. All she wanted was food—something hot, greasy, and fast—followed by about ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. 

“No, I’m mad at my team for being a bunch of idiots. Even if I *was* mad at you, what difference would it make?” she shot back, quickening her pace toward the castle gates.

George only shrugged, grinning like he had all the time in the world. “I feel bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s Quidditch. I knew what I was signing up for.”

He wasn’t getting the message. No, he kept walking beside her, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his robes, as if they were out for a pleasant morning stroll. 

“Still,” he continued, “I know breaking a bone sucks. Let me make it up to you.”

Her patience snapped like her radius. She whirled around, nearly smacking him with the end of her broom. “Weasley. For the love of Merlin, *leave me alone*.”

It was rude, maybe a bit harsh, but at that point, she didn’t care. She just needed him to go away.

To her annoyance, George only grinned wider, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I get it. Message received.” 

Finally, he turned on his heel, heading back toward the pitch with that same easygoing swagger that made her want to hex him. 

She exhaled heavily. *Thank god.* 

---

By the next morning, she had buried herself in the safety of the Hufflepuff common room, avoiding human interaction like it was contagious. She needed space, time to stew—and more importantly, time to fix the mess her team had made. 

For two straight days, she holed herself up with her Quidditch playbook, scrawling new strategies until the margins were filled with ink stains and furious scribbles. When Monday morning rolled around, she dragged her team out of bed at 4 a.m. sharp, ignoring their groans and protests. They had practice—and she was *not* in the mood for excuses.

By the time the sun was up, the lot of them were caked in mud, panting and limping toward the showers. She could practically feel their glares burning holes in her back. 

Good. Let them be mad. She didn’t care. Early practice always put her in a good mood, and after the weekend she’d had, she needed it. 

Humming softly to herself, she made her way to Transfiguration, her hair still damp from the shower and her spirits lighter than they’d been in days. 

That is, until George Weasley slid into the seat beside her, grinning like a Kneazle with cream. 

---

“Mornin’, L/N,” George Weasley said with that infuriatingly cheerful grin as he leaned back in his chair, balancing precariously on two legs. His red hair was still ruffled from the wind, and a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes, like someone who'd already caused trouble before breakfast. 

She shot him a sidelong glare, her earlier good mood evaporating like steam rising off the dewy Quidditch pitch. 

“Go away, Weasley,” she muttered, already regretting not choosing a seat farther from him. 

Naturally, George chuckled. The same way he always did—soft, teasing, and just enough to set her teeth on edge. 

She had caught sight of the Gryffindor team trudging their way up to the pitch at six that morning, right as her Hufflepuff team was making their way back down toward the castle for breakfast. Her teammates had been dragging their feet, faces twisted with exhaustion, but she? She had practically floated all the way to the Great Hall, feeling fresh and ready for the day. There was nothing like an early win—especially when it came at the expense of her own team’s suffering. 

George gave her a sideways glance, like he knew exactly how smug she felt. “Productive morning, then?” he asked, still rocking dangerously on the back legs of his chair. 

She smirked. “It was.” 

“Ready for Ravenclaw next month?” he pressed, tapping his quill against the desk absentmindedly.

“Always,” she replied curtly, shifting her focus to her Transfiguration notes.  

George didn’t seem ready to drop the conversation, though. She could see it out of the corner of her eye—the way his mouth twitched, words forming on the tip of his tongue—but before he could say anything else, Professor McGonagall strode into the room, her sharp gaze silencing even the rowdiest students. The room fell into obedient quiet as she began explaining the logistics of the Epoximise spell, her wand drawing neat, glowing diagrams in the air. 

Y/N took the opportunity to immerse herself in the lecture, her quill scratching diligently across parchment. If she could just ignore George, maybe he’d get bored and leave her alone. 

But that was wishful thinking.  

“Oi, L/N,” he whispered, his voice low and insistent beside her.

She kept her eyes glued to the front of the room, ignoring him.

A soft poke landed on her shoulder. She didn’t flinch, determined to outlast him.  

Then a piece of parchment slid across the desk, brushing against her hand. She glanced down, glaring at George through her eyelashes. He grinned, eyes bright with mischief, and gestured for her to open it. 

Curiosity got the better of her, and with a quiet sigh, she unfolded the note.  

*“I hope you know CPR, ‘cause you take my breath away.”*  

A laugh bubbled up inside her, but she pressed her lips together, forcing it down. She grabbed her quill, scribbling a response in quick, slanted handwriting. 

*“4/10. I’ve heard better.”*

She passed the note back with a smirk, enjoying the way George’s grin widened when he read her reply. He scratched the back of his head as if deep in thought, then leaned over his parchment again, scrawling something new.

When the note landed in front of her, she unfolded it with a sense of anticipation she knew she shouldn’t feel.  

*“I must’ve had some Felix Felicis, ‘cause I think I’m about to get lucky.”*  

This time, she couldn’t help it—a short, sharp laugh escaped her before she could clap a hand over her mouth. Several students turned to look at her, and even McGonagall paused mid-sentence to glance their way with a disapproving arch of her brow. 

Y/N’s cheeks flamed as she slouched lower in her seat, stifling the rest of her giggles. 

She leaned over her parchment and wrote back quickly. 

*“7/10. That one was pretty good.”*  

George gave a triumphant little chuckle as he read her reply, clearly pleased with himself. She could feel him watching her now, waiting—probably hoping—she’d glance up and meet his gaze. But she stubbornly kept her eyes on her parchment. If she looked at him now, she knew she'd be blushing in seconds. And the last thing she needed was for George Weasley to know how charming she found him.

The next note slid across the desk, folding neatly into her hand like a gift she hadn’t asked for but couldn’t refuse.  

*“Can I borrow a kiss? I promise I’ll give it back.”*  

A grin spread across her face before she could stop it. Merlin, he was insufferable.  

*“10/10. Bold.”* 

She slipped the note back to him, her heart doing an annoying little flip when their fingers brushed for the briefest moment. 

Before George could dream up another ridiculous pick-up line, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. McGonagall’s voice cut through the air, dismissing the students with a crisp, “That will be all for today. Don’t forget to practice your spells before next lesson.” 

Y/N scrambled to shove her books and notes into her bag, suddenly realizing that George had managed to distract her so thoroughly she hadn’t written down anything about the Epoximise spell. *Brilliant. Now I’ve got no notes and new Quidditch plays to plan.* 

She slipped out of the classroom quickly, hoping to make her escape before George had the chance to follow. But, as always, he was one step ahead. 

She made it twenty minutes into her break before he found her again, sliding into the seat beside her at a table in the library like he belonged there. 

This time, she was the one to start the game, sliding a fresh piece of parchment across to him with a smirk. 

*“Did you get lost?”* 

George’s response came almost immediately. 

*“Only in your eyes.”*  

She groaned quietly, rolling her eyes as she scribbled back. 

*“1/10. Predictable and contrived.”*  

George huffed, his quill hovering over the parchment as if he was seriously contemplating his next move. He tapped the tip against the page a few times before finally writing a single word:  

*“Hogsmeade?”*  

Her heart stuttered. She could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face, waiting for her answer. For a moment, she just stared at the word on the parchment, her mind racing. 

Then, slowly, she wrote her response, her hand shaking just slightly.  

*“10/10, of course.”*  

She pushed the note back toward him, her cheeks warm as she dared to glance up at him for the first time.  

The grin on George’s face was absolutely dazzling—and it was all for her.

[so-mordor-itis]

Eye on You

“give peace a chance, let the fear you have fall away, i’ve got my eye on you. say yes to heaven, say yes to me.

if you go, I’ll stay.. you come back, I’ll be right here. like a barge at sea, in the storm I stay clear, cause I’ve got my mind on you”

I told you I'd write a drabble but uhhhhh this ain't no drabble- @unhealthy-leon-brainrot

1998.

Leon loved differently back then. He loved in a way a 21 year old man freshly graduated from college could. He was giddy whenever the person in his interest would smile at him, would give him any time of day. His hands would become clammy, and his heart would race as if he were still a teenager. Sometimes, he truly felt like one at heart. That his soul was trapped in that time period, and it wouldn't ever leave.

It's why when he met you for the first time, and when you smiled at him as if nothing could go wrong, his face burned, and his heart almost burst right then and there. You were a brilliant flame, and he felt like a small candle stick awaiting to be lit.

He asked you out in a sputter of words, hating himself immediately after listening to them tumble. Leon didn't want his nervousness to show. He had been practicing for weeks in front of bathroom mirrors and sometimes in the Officer's Academy shower, hoping nobody overheard him. He wanted it to be perfect because that's what you deserved.

You giggled, and somehow, his heart both fluttered and sank. Your eyes glittered with an emotion that made him slightly hopeful. "You want to take me out on a date?"

"Yeah," he replied, all too quickly. "If you'd like to that is--only if you'd like to." He wished he could stop himself from talking, but he couldn't.

You smiled at him, and dammit there went the last of his coherent thoughts. "You know what? Sure. I don't have anything interesting going on." You laughed again, looking away shyly. "I can't say no when you're looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Leon asked, though he fully knew what you were talking about.

"Like I'm the only thing on your mind," you responded. You were fidgeting with your shirt, and Leon wanted nothing more than to grab your hands and hold them.

You weren't incorrect, either. You were on his mind a frightening amount. This affection for you was a buzz in the back of his mind, a throb in his chest.

You still said yes.

"So it's a date?"

"Yes, it's a date."

He swore he grinned from ear to ear, and he saw you return it.

--

The day he was supposed to pick you up, he never did. You were more worried than disappointed. Leon didn't seem like the type of guy you ask you out, gazing at you as if you created the sky and the stars, and then drop you like a hat. Despite the bitter part of you wanting to think he ditched you, the rational part knew better.

He called you hours later, apologetic and broken. "I'm so sorry. Something... something came up."

"Forget the date," you quickly muttered, surprised at how swift the words left your mouth. "Are you okay?"

He was silent for a bit. "Not really."

"Where are you? I'm coming to you."

"No, wait," Leon called your name almost in a plea. "I don't want you to drag yourself into this."

You weren't backing down without a little bit of a fight. "Leon, please."

He paused before stating he was in a hospital outside of Raccoon City.

--

Leon knew he loved you after that. He never admitted to himself until he was sure, but he couldn't prevent that innocent crush from growing into something more powerful.

You became a firework, blazing in his lonely, starless sky. You had always been.

2004.

He liked to believe he still loved the same. Wanted to love the same as he did all those years ago. His heart pounding and his palms becoming clammy, blue eyes full of innocent love.

He knew he didn't.

Leon was reserved now, awkward with his affection, hesitant with his touches yet still craved it. He hated that you had to watch him develop--no, perhaps devolve was the better word here--this trauma response. This training, this work, it all collapsed on top of him, and sometimes he felt as if it would eventually crush him.

Yet, some part of you still saw his old self. That stupid, lovesick boy who craved your attention the way a puppy would a scrap of food. You still gave him love, still kissed his scars, still told him sweet nothings when he broke down crying because the pressure was too much.

He once asked you if you were okay with all of this still, okay with him. You gave him your usual smile, the one that made him weak and touched that lovesick boy deep down. "You're stuck with me, Leon. I gave myself to you the day you asked me out. I'm staying. No matter what happens, I'm here."

He kissed you hard that day. Harder than he ever had. Placing a promise against your lips that he would always come back to you. No matter what.

--

You often wondered what he would do without you. If he would crash and burn the moment you turned around, if the night terrors would claw at his throat and suffocate him.

It was hard, watching him suffer mentally when all you could do was give him words of affirmation. Reassure him that the nightmares weren't real and that you were truly there with him and not bloodied up and dead.

Those moments made the good ones feel like precious gifts. Not just for you, but also for him. You carried them in your heart and held on to those when the bad days would storm over his head.

You remembered one of those good days so clearly, so vividly it never failed to make you smile. One day, while looking over some files, Leon had fallen asleep. His glasses--the ones he usually only used whenever he was reading important work files--were scrunched against his face, pushing up against the bridge of his nose. You remembered walking into his office, snickering a little at the sight. You sighed, shaking your head. "What am I going to do with you?"

You approached him quietly, as if the smallest movement would ruin his peaceful slumber. You grabbed the rims of his glasses carefully, pulling them off his face so he'd be more comfortable. As you did, you caught a feel of his soft locks and couldn't help but lightly smooth between your fingers. You took note of his facial features; his cheekbones were more rigid, and the shadows of his eyes were sunken in. His hair was even a bit darker, looking dirtier blond than it had when you first met. Still handsome, that would never change.

The urge to kiss his forehead had you twitching, but you didn’t want to disturb him. Especially since he had probably been staring at documented words for who knows how long.

You moved to quietly nudge yourself away before his sleepy voice mumbled. "Gonna go so soon?"

You blinked, looking down to see his eyes were now open. Still hazy from his rest. You practically beamed at him. "Didn't wanna wake you."

Leon sat up, stretching a little before putting his glasses back on. "Guess I must've passed out. These reports practically put me to sleep. I can't believe this is part of what they pay me for."

You attempted to catch a glimpse of whatever was on the document, but he placed them flat on the table when he caught you.

Leon snickered. "Classified. Sorry, baby."

You pouted a little. "Can't I help my boyfriend out a little?"

He stood up and stretched more, popping his back. "Not if it means you getting in trouble by seeing the reports. I'd also get in trouble, and we definitely wouldn't want that."

"Man, and here I thought I'd be able to see the famous missions Leon Kennedy goes on," you teased.

Leon just rolled his eyes as if you two had had this discussion before. You have. You just like to see him smile. Distract him as much as you could.

"Become an agent, then we'll talk." He took off his glasses and put them back on his desk. He placed his gaze upon you, and you could feel the adoration in his eyes. He still looked at you as if you had created the sky, the moon, the stars. As if you were his sun and he orbited around you and only you. You would never get over it.

Leon mimicked the action you were doing earlier and parted your hair from your cheeks so he could kiss your forehead.

His work phone rang loud, interrupting the moment. Leon sighed and kissed you quickly against the lips before the obligation to his duty forced him to go answer it.

"Kennedy. Yes, sir."

You observed his body language as he discussed with his superior. His shoulders went rigid, his eyes focused as if he were already on the field. He was prepared for whatever they were about to tell him because he had to be.

He hung up after a minute of giving affirming hums and a variety of yeses. Leon plopped his phone on the documentations and gave you an apologetic look.

"Don't worry about it." You shook your head. You knew what he was about to say. He didn't even need to tell you anything out loud. His eyes told the whole story.

"I really don't deserve you," he mumbled. "Makes me wonder how you do it."

"Because I love you." You said simply. "I'm here to stay, remember?"

--

|Tags:|

@seraphiism , @uhlunaro , @izuniias , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @leonskillshot , @airanke , @muffimtv , @justonemore-fic , @mandalhoerian , @tosuckmyweenis , @boundinparchment

[bullet-prooflove]

4500 Follower Celebration Bingo - Adrenaline: Ryan x Reader (Yellowstone)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @yousigned-upforthis @queenslandlover-93 @hal3ynicol3

Companion piece to:

With Me (NSFW) - Ryan and you send the night together for the first time.

My Favourite Kind of Night (NSFW) - Ryan and you send the night together at a law enforcement conference.

The bar fight starts because another man tries to put his hands on you, not because he wants to fuck you but because he wants to hurt you. Ryan’s been around long enough to spot a predator, he can sense the subtle change in the air when that asshole’s eyes fall on you as you return from the bathroom, the subtle shift in body language before he starts to move through the crowd towards you, a flick knife opening up in his hand.

Ryan’s already slipping off the bar stool to intercept him by the time you look up and see the knife. The expression on your face changes, your hand automatically sliding to your hip where your gun would usually be. The thing is it’s Friday night and that weapon is locked up tight in a safe in the cottage.

The problem with policing in a small community is that sometimes you run into the family member of someone you’ve arrested or even the perpetrator themselves.  You’re a woman in law enforcement, statistically you see more violence from offenders than any of your male counterparts which is why when the guy’s arm pulls back to slash at you, you pre-empt it with a strike of your own. You punch him straight in the face, breaking his nose. His head snaps back, blood exploding from his nostrils as he crashes back into another patron, the knife tumbling from his hand.

It devolves from there because this guy, he doesn’t like being struck by the woman who arrested him for sexual assault last year. It’s always a power thing with these guys, they can’t bear to not to have it. He comes back at you like a wildcat, fists flailing and you react by driving yours into one of his kidney’s incapacitating him.

It’s all over by the time Ryan gets to you, you have that asshole on his stomach, his arm twisted up his back, your knee planted firmly in the centre of his spine. It shouldn’t turn him on but it kinda does because it’s just another example of how fierce you are, how capable. You’ve taken down a guy twice your size in nothing but high heels and a summer dress, he can’t vocalise how much of a badass you are.

“I’m sorry I fucked up our date.” You say as the two of you stand outside watching that asshole being loaded into the back of a squad car.  

“Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for.” Ryan says as he tips your chin up to meet his gaze. “You know how much I like a little bit of excitement.”

There’s a brightness in his eyes, a heat that resonates through your body all the way down to your toes. Most men would be running for the hills after seeing how your job bleeds into your life but Ryan isn’t like most men, he doesn’t back away from a little danger. Like you, he runs right into it.

“I’m gonna get fucked tonight aren’t I?” You whisper and Ryan smiles as he leans in close.

“Oh baby.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over yours. “The two of us, we have a lot of adrenaline we’re gonna need to work out.”

Love Ryan? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[astarioffsimpmain]

Sunday Snippet

Thank you for the tag, @nerdallwritey !! 😁

I have a snippet of something possibly a little different(?) in the works. I haven't decided what this thing will be yet, but it tumbled out of me pretty quick when I started it, so we'll see how it goes!

♡♡♡

You knew why you were here. You knew why Mephistopheles had taken interest in you; why he had summoned you to his home in the 8th layer. You were in bed with his son - both literally and figuratively. You had agreed to work with Raphael to defeat the Netherbrain, and in turn, you would retrieve the Crown of Karus for him - the very same crown that sat in his father’s archives for centuries, out of his reach. Raphael had been cordial and more than helpful, but something had happened along the way. He paid you far more personal visits than were necessary for the fulfillment of your contract, and frequently appeared in your camp with apothecary jars filled to the brim with water from the healing pools in his House of Hope after you were downed in battle. In return, you visited him often with “updates” on your progress, the visits usually devolving into long discussions over mulled cherry wine. And over time, the exploration of his many stores of liquor was not enough; you much preferred your shared exploration of each other once the conversation stilled, and you were almost certain Raphael would agree were he asked. 

But your budding relationship with the cambion had its price, and you were paying it today. Raphael had given you advice for your summons with his father. He was none too pleased with the visit but had little control in the matter. So he did his best to prepare you instead. “Do not lie to Mephistopheles.” he said. “He will see the lie and identify the truth as a weakness. In turn, he will do whatever he can to pry it from you. It is best to answer only the questions he asks you. Do not elaborate. Elaboration reveals secrets; reveals inconsistencies; reveals you. Answer modestly amidst your truth, but do not go so far as to grovel. He despises blubbering fools. If he is impressed with you, the best outcome is that he chooses to sit back and watch you for now. This meeting is not for you, nor is it regarding you. This meeting is a warning to me. Do not turn his attention toward you, Little Mouse. The cat can only keep you in its claws if it is not too busy fighting the fox.”

♡♡♡

Tagging, Darlings: @brabblesblog @thechaoticdruid @senualothbrok and anyone else who wants to join in!

[ryunumber]

The Lamb has a shorter number thanks to Devolver Tumble Time. Lamb>(Devolver Tumble Time)>Jacket>(Cook, Serve, Delicious)>Shovel Knight>(Smash Ultimate/Brawlhalla)>Ryu

This is what happens when one specific crossover announcement gets wedged in your head and you don't put in the damn legwork. Because not only is this true,

there's actually another Cult of the Lamb crossover that gives the same shorter number and scans better. (Slightly. IMO.)

Regardless, thank you for the correction! (You would think I would remember to do the damn research by now!)

[winterweary]

@redcurrantorchard I saw you use he/him pronouns so I did it with a AMAB MC but if you want it with AFAB I can post an edit too ayyy

Explicit, 18+, dead dove sleep fucking (though it’s kind of more sleep foreplay lol)

“One more?”

“One more…” you mumble sleepily, giving a long stretch under the covers. Leviathan’s cool bathtub walls press against your back, making the warmth of his body next to you all the more cozy. You’re mid-marathon of the new season of a niche anime about ramen chefs competing for title of Ramen Lord, and despite how late at night you’re sure it is, the last episode landed on a cliff hanger and you can’t exactly stop there, can you?

Levi presses play on his phone, his hands holding it against his knees so you both can see. You’re curled against him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, his breath gently tickling your hair on your brow. If you weren’t concentrating so hard on keeping your eyes open, you might be proud of him for the steady rhythm of his heartbeat – the first several times you spent the night together, you could feel it racing against the cheek the entire time.

The opening plays, light flickering over the two of you in the dark room, and a deep content sigh leaves you. Beside you, Levi swallows, something in your soft relaxation making his heart ache happily.

Despite your best efforts, you find yourself mostly listening to the episode, half dreaming up the scenes until at last you can resist no longer, and you tumble into a confusing dream. First you and Levi are cooking ramen together, chattering and focusing on the ingredients, but soon it almost nonsensically devolves into another sort of dream, where he’s bending you over the table and grinding between your legs from behind…

When you wake up next, the room is dark, and you’ve rolled over to face the tub wall. You’re warm – hot even – but a sudden exhaled breath against your neck makes you shiver. You can feel Levi’s hands moving over your stomach and up your chest, and with a thrill of delight you realize you can feel his cock hard against your ass.

“…fuck…” you mumble, eyes falling closed again and body melting as Levi freezes. He swallows hard, and you can feel his length flex against you. It’s then you realize that your shorts have been pulled down, and his boxers are rubbing against your bare skin. A long moment passes where Levi is still, frozen in panic as he realizes the implications of what he’s been caught doing.

He hadn’t meant for it to end up like this. He’d noticed you’d fallen asleep fairly soon into the episode, as he usually stole frequent peeks to check out your expression when you watched anime together. You’d looked so cute, and peaceful and…trusting? It blew his mind that you could let your guard down and relax so much against him of all people.

And your lips…they’d been parted lightly, soft and cast with a strange purple flush from the blue light of his fish tank. They were always so soft looking, and he couldn’t help his thoughts leaping to the time you’d…

No, no, he couldn’t think about that now. Not when you’re cuddling so nicely with him, a leg draped over his and arm around his chest. He’d turned off the show, unable to concentrate, and did his best to resign himself to sleep.

And then you’d moaned his name.

Well, maybe it was more of a mumble. But still, he’d heard it! The breathy exhale, followed by a shift in your body, movement raising goosebumps on his skin as you rolled over. Cautiously, he rolled with you, wrapping his arm around you and pressing his chest against your back. He’d wanted to hear you say his name again, that was all!

But the blanket had moved off your thighs, and they were practically glowing. He swallowed hard, fingers drifting downward, stroking barely perceptively over the softness of your skin there.

Another soft noise had left your lips, and he’d frozen. Really, that was supposed to be the end of it! He was going to roll over and go to sleep and…and…

And he was so hard.

And your ass was pressed so snugly against him.

And…your thighs…

He hadn’t meant to move his hips, really, his body moved on its own, giving a twitchy rut against your plushness. His hand was on your hip, and the pressure against his cock immediately sent a wave of pleasure through him. He was going to keep his hand there, nice and safe on your hips…

Until it wasn’t, sliding forward to palm your own length through your shorts, a low moan escaping Levi when he realized you were half hard as well.

He had a sudden thought of you waking up then, finding him with his hand on your cock, and his own leaking pre into his boxers against your ass. The look you’d give him, one of disgust and indulgence, how predictable that your dirty pervert couldn’t handle himself for one night…

“Fuuuuuck…” Levi moaned shamefully, giving in completely as another shudder of pleasure tore through him. Okay, he admitted it. He was gross. He was a pervert. And more importantly, he was so so so horny.

He wanted…more. Moving slowly, not wanting to wake you despite himself, he moved his fingers to the waistband of your shorts. Lifting them, he frozen as you sighed in your sleep, before gently slipping them down your hips.

Now he was able to touch you freely, palms moving over the curve of your hips, pulling you back against his shaft. He slipped his hand back to cup your cock, swallowing hard at the heat of it. Pressing his lips against your shoulder to keep him from moaning again, he’d given you a slow stroke, inhaling shakily as you twitched in your sleep.

Another rock of his hips, and his own eyes had closed, head falling back with an exhale as his hand moves back up your stomach to squeeze at your chest. How far was his lube? Had he left it in the bed the other night when you’d…

“…uck”

Levi had frozen, a hot wave of terror immediately flushing over his body. That was the most coherent sleep mumble you’d given so far, and it sounded like…

“Levi…” you sigh his name now, and he can feel his eyes burn suddenly with tears of shame. Oh god, you were going to hate him. What was he doing? He-

“…n’t op…” you mumble, flinging a hand behind you to fumble for his thigh, squeezing it demandingly.

“Wh-wh-wh-“

“Don’t stop…” you whine louder, pouty now. You were squirming, pulling at the leg of his boxers, trying half-heartedly to coerce him to move against you without having to roll out of your position.

“Y-yeah?” Levi gasps, hand squeezing at your chest again with relief, before leaving to yank his own pants down. Immediately you feel the thump of his cock hitting your back, a hot splatter of pre landing on your skin. You shift to move your leg up into a bend, wanting him more tightly against you, wanting him inside you…

Practically dizzy with lust, Levi is fumbling in his blankets, praising whatever angel is looking after his slutty fantasies when his palm finds the bottle of lube in their folds. He pulls away to slick it over his shaft, his shaky pants hot against your ear. When you feel his fingers shyly press against your entrance you sigh in relief, closing your eyes and melting once more.

“So nice…” Your voice is still sleepy, and Levi wonders if you’re even fully awake, though that’s the last coherent thought he has before he’s pressing the head of his cock into you.

A low groan leaves him as you swallow him up, and you give your own mewl at the sudden feeling of fullness. He doesn’t move for a moment, fingers squeezing your hips so tight it’s sure to leave bruises, as he holds his breath and tries not to explode inside you right then.

Finally, he starts to move, rocking his hips against you, dirty little whines leaving his lips where they’re pressed against your neck. You tilt your jaw, opening your mouth to offer him your tongue, and he claims it greedily, thoughts of shame long gone as he desperately ruts against you.

His hand falls back to your cock as he begins to moan your name, half pumping and half just squeezing tightly, too drunk on your body to move with any intention. Then, with a shudder and a burst of heat, he cums, crying out and pressing you into the cold tub with the force of his grind.

“Oh my god…” you groan happily, lashes fluttering as he hilts inside you.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically, and it makes you give a dizzy giggle.

“Poor baby,” you coo, “Couldn’t wait for me to wake up, hm?” He flushes red, and you smirk at the shamed expression that quickly replaces his well fucked face.

“I…I…” You stop his stammers with another heated kiss, rolling over to face him properly.

“Well, you better take responsibility for it, hm?” Between you, you’re still hard, cock flushed red and leaking itself now. Leviathan flushes, but doesn’t hesitate a moment, wriggling to nuzzle down your stomach and kiss the thick shaft.

“That’s my dirty little pervert…”

[castieltrash1]

Not sure if you’re still taking Gosling sleepover requests but if so...

How Noah would comfort you, and/or how Driver would fantasise about you 👀

i combined your first req with another ask and wrote how noah calhoun would comfort you here!

driver x gn!reader; smut, masturbation, kind of stalker vibes, voyeurism, marking/hickeys/bites/etc, mentions of oral

He fights past the haze of your presence long enough to make it to his apartment, letting out a sigh of relief once the door locks behind him with a distinct click. His hands have an uncharacteristic twitch to them as he rips his right glove off, calloused fingertips tugging desperately at the zipper on his jeans. Six seconds. That’s how long it took to go from the lobby to the second floor, where you lived. One word. All you’d said was “two,” pointing at the respective button in the elevator, unaware that he was already reaching for it; that the lines between what he’d learned about you and the information you knowingly offered had begun to blur.

As he steadies himself, padding over to the couch, he thinks of the first time he saw you up close. Not just in passing, holding a door open, or shifting past you to get his mail. He’d been scoping out the man who lived beneath him, Mr. 305, whose unruly attitude made his already odd hours even more restless. But, instead of finding whoever made his floor shake in the early hours of the morning, he’d found you already pounding on the man’s door, muttering under your breath about the pounding on your ceiling. 

All that kept you apart was one floor, one annoying tenant he couldn’t risk being the reason you moved out. The noise stopped eventually when the man broke his lease without explanation, and the sleepless nights he caused became a distant memory. 

Now, you were the thing keeping him up. His insomniac tendencies of restless legs and periodic nightmares devolved into something greater, an unshakeable arousal that turned to vivid wet dreams the second he let rest overtake him. He was waking up drenched in sweat more times than not, plagued with the thought of your smile, the way your lips curled, and what they’d look like wrapped around his cock instead.

The sight is something he can imagine if he tries hard enough, but the sensation is harder to create. He frees his cock with his bare hand but wraps his gloved palm around it to start. The leather creates a delicious friction that’s almost too uncomfortable to bear, but the foreign feeling bolsters the dissonance between his mind and body, allowing him to believe it’s your touch instead. Still, you’d be gentler, he thinks, coaxing out his orgasm with timid patience. 

Normally, he’s great at waiting -- five minutes, at least -- but not in times like these. When he’s alone, all he knows is hard and fast. Without a partner to focus on or enjoy it with, his arousal becomes more of a hassle, something he needs to get past quickly. You’ve taught him restraint, whether you know it or not. Instead of rough strokes, he gently squeezes up the length of his cock, leather warming against his blood-rushed skin.

A low gasp leaves his lips, your name tumbling out right after. The image of you that flashes in front of his eyes makes him dizzy. You’ve been pushed to your limit, bare and flushed with the exertion of his passion. Its evidence covers you; hickeys, bites, spit, and cum creating a mismatched pattern across your body. The best part is the lustful gaze you give him, lids heavy but still hungry for more.

There’s greater definition in his fantasies now, in the last few days, then before. Your body was something he could never recreate perfectly, no matter his attempts. He needed a visual, just once. A single glimpse would last a lifetime.

It took a few nights, but you finally gave him one.

Parked covertly under your second-floor window, he watched in awe as you undressed after a long day. If it hadn’t been for his own selfish desires, he would’ve told you to get better blinds - or to at least remember to close them before you changed. But, he hadn’t, sitting silently and mentally recording every sliver of exposed skin he could catch. He didn’t touch himself either, not allowing a single distraction to pull his attention from you.

And, even though you retreated to the bathroom before your underwear came off, it was enough. It’s enough now, pulling him over the edge in one fell swoop.

As his release drips down kidskin knuckles, he wonders if you wanted him to watch, and if, next time, you’d let him touch you instead.

gosling sleepover sunday (no longer taking requests!)

[tubbytarchia]

want to hear your thoughts on jimmy and joel. all your thoughts. all of them. across universes.

You ask you shall receive. I love them a lot

I can see them as a ship (and no Joel white knight can come at me when those two frequently engage in questionable exchanges) but mostly I see them as best friends with a brotherly bond. Joel is kinda similar to Martyn to me when thinking of Jimmy, where he's always been there and taken him for who he is and just fucked around, carefree. He's a mean bean but his banter doesn't give off maliciousness, to me he hasn't ever seemed as overstepping and making Jimmy genuinely upset

Unfortunately ESMP2 happened and it really pains me how much Joel drove the "toy Jimmy" bit into the ground, resulting in all the seriousness that Jimmy wasn't ever offered. Maybe Jimmy wouldn't have become as much of a joke as he was were it not for Joel. Maybe it would have all hurt a bit less if Joel hadn't built massive walls around Tumble Town. This does pain me always, but you know what, at least "bullying Jimmy" is not his shtick that he needs to rely on throughout various SMPs as much as it feels like certain other people do. He decided to lean into it this once wirh some thought that wasn't just "haha Jimmy sux!!" but unfortunately it devolved and absolutely everyone went along with his bit. But as far as Joel goes, from a brotherly sort of friendship perspective especially, this kind of teasing and banter is more excusable than it would be within a romantic ship etc, but regardless it still pains me lol

Aside from that though, they're buds... Joel I don't think could ever comfort Jimmy in any decent way just because of being the rabid creature that he is, even if he were to know of and understand Jimmy's horrors (to the best of his ability). But what matters is that he cares... He doesn't ever express this outwardly but he cares and that makes me happy and enjoy them as a duo. Things like how in Limited Life he really wanted to help Jimmy get some time to stay in the game longer and his downward red life spiral pretty much beginning with Jimmy's death. How in Secret Life he expresses confidence in Jimmy having his back, and how in spite of his anguish after Lizzie's death, he doesn't say anything to ruin Jimmy's fun upon him not being the first one out. Even when Jimmy's not there, all he says is "Jimmy's gloating about it, which is a weird thing to gloat about? But we have to give him every little win, don't we"

Also in 3rd Life, Jimmy kind of jokingly (I guess??) left a sign on Joel's property that just said "I miss you - Love from Solidarity" and I never stop thinking about it. It pains me a lot, especially when that came before the FH ordeal kicked into proper gear. It honestly reads like one last effort to get away from something awful that he's anticipating, for someone to help? Something something canary, he's sensing the danger. But Joel is stupid lol and I can't blame him for not paying that sign any mind. Anyway this is a stretch I just. I never stop thinking about it.........this reads like a cry for help..........

It genuinely surprises me when I think back to the traffic series' and realize how little Joel has made fun of Jimmy. Sure he laughs, with him it's more excusable because of their friendship, and yet somehow he doesn't make a fool of or comment on Jimmy's reputation as much as some others do. He doesn't seem to think Jimmy to be notably incompetent like some of the others do. Can't say too much on other SMPs because I've seen very little of them but the vibes seem to be more or less same. I love them a lot anon, I love them a lot... Joel, for a change, is someone Jimmy deserves (because he deserves someone who cares) and is fortunate to have, if only it weren't for all the unrelenting horrors that Joel can't really help with in any case. Pensive