#sorry this took so long to get out!

[mscribblz]

100 Followers Unlocked! Woo Hoo!

As a thank you, I’m doing a small art raffle to celebrate. 1 winner will receive a half body/full color commission of a character of their choice.

PLEASE SEE RULES UNDER CUT:

1) Reblog this post for entry (1 entry per person)

2) Must be following this blog to be eligible (New followers welcome)

3) The commission prize will follow the same guidelines as my standard commissions (except no payment). Please see my commission info page for what I will and wont draw.

4) Entry will remain open until AUGUST 31st 11:59PM CDT. I will announce the winner next day and reach out to them privately.

5) To the winner: You will be responsible for providing reference image(s)/descriptions of the character you want drawn (Especially OCs!)

6) If the winner does not respond within 48 hours, someone else will be selected.

Thank you again everyone and good luck~

[bayofwolves]

I’ve been obsessed, obsessed, obsessed with Raisha for a while now. I know you’ve said little things about her in the past and i want to know what’s up with her/Gerathon if you’d be willing to talk about it.

I really like Raisha as a character, too! We know so little about her, but in my opinion, she's one of the most fascinating characters in the series. Unfortunately, she meets a sad end in A Revised History of Erdas.

All we know about Raisha post-infection is that she was present at the final battle in The Burning Tide, still under Zerif's control and in pretty bad shape. She vanishes off the grid after that, never mentioned again, not even in the concluding montage of Great Beast summoners reuniting with their fallen spirit animals. My retelling offers some closure, but not the good kind.

In my version of events, Raisha is flanking Zerif when he emerges from the ship with his Great Beasts. Zerif, in an act of cruel irony, saw fit to keep Raisha by his side even in her mindless, infected state. Shane, up in the archers' keep with Abeke, hardly recognizes the girl who helped steal Halawir months earlier. Later, she reappears to restrain Abeke when Zerif brings the defeated Redcloak forces to the Wyrm. When the Wyrm is killed and the parasites lose their power, though, Raisha collapses to the ground and doesn't get back up. The Wyrm had pushed her finite body to an extent that it couldn't recover from. Many people and animals in Zerif's army are the same; their possession eventually killed them. The Wyrm was a child playing with toys, the mechanics of which it couldn't possibly understand. Thankfully for it, its parasites could go on controlling a body in the event of an untimely death. Indeed, Stead raises the possibility that Raisha had been dead for some time, and the parasite was only animating a corpse.

Like I've said before, I didn't do this out of dislike for Raisha or anything like that. She was ultimately another victim of Zerif -- a young, lonely, impressionable girl he took advantage of -- and didn't deserve anything that happened to her. I'll always support AUs where she is alive and well. In my eyes, though, her story was always meant to end in tragedy. By the time she realized her mistake and reached for the light, it was too late.

Gerathon, after reemerging in Southern Zhong and feeling the loss of her human partner, disappeared into the brush and is currently at large. She is only an adolescent cobra at the moment, hardly a threat... but the Great Beasts are growing, and Gerathon's time will inevitably come again. (I like the idea of her becoming a maneater as she slowly regains her former size and power, terrorizing the locals and gaining a place in their legends.) Who knows how she feels about losing Raisha. I expect, under the excruciating pain that may one day drive her to madness, there is a sweet sense of relief.

[just-a-silly-little-whumper]

Discover

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

Some pieces fall into place.

Alternatively: Altair finally gets some good fucking food.

Contains: Captivity, starvation (& distrust of food), referenced mind/thought control, fear of noncon, manhandling, broken bones, and a lot of sneaking/sleuthing

~~~

“Don’t do anything too reckless.”

He didn’t hear the door click shut behind Elze’ith. The lack of the distinctive noise almost didn’t register at first. Then Altair realized he was subconsciously listening for a noise that had never come, and stood up. When he approached and pushed on the door, sure enough, it yielded under his hand. He smiled to himself; Elze’ith wasn’t entirely lost to him yet, it seemed. Rather than leaving immediately, he forced himself to wait a few minutes, so his partner would have time to clear the area and have at least a modicum of plausible deniability in Altair’s escape. Then he slowly pushed the door open and slipped outside.

The dungeon was as dark, cold, and quiet as it ever was. It was hardly a place he wanted to linger, nor did he think there was anything of benefit for him down there, so after making sure the door to his cell was still open a crack he started making his way towards the upper parts of the castle. The hallway seemed to sprawl endlessly, but eventually he found a set of stairs that led up.

The silence was both comforting and eerie— comforting because it assured him no one was around, and eerie because it exposed the lifelessness of the old castle. He knew that Lord Denholm had servants, but there was no sign of them as he warily made his way through the halls. Maybe they were asleep, but without any windows, he had no way of knowing what time of day it was. 

How long had he been trapped here? Days? A week? Two? The realization that he genuinely didn’t know sent unease rippling through him. He had to figure out how to get himself and Elze’ith out of here, before they lost too much more time to this place.

After a few minutes he came upon a part of the castle that he vaguely recognized from his first visit many months ago. That set of double doors was probably the dining hall, which meant, if he doubled back a bit… 

He carefully pushed open a small, nondescript door and smiled when he came into a dark, unattended kitchen. The smell of the day’s cooking still lingered faintly on the air, but the stove was nothing but embers and the tabletops were clean. Fine by him; he didn’t need or want anything that had been recently prepared in this place. 

(Elze’ith’s words, “I never know,” lingered in his mind. How often had Elze’ith been drugged? How often had food been wielded as a weapon? A part of him had just thought he had been being paranoid, but having his worries confirmed so harshly had been a blow he hadn’t been ready for.)

Another door off to the side led him into a well-stocked pantry that called to his aching empty stomach. He knew he couldn’t linger, though, and Elze’ith’s voice in the back of his head said something about the dangers of eating too much when he had been starving for so long. Instead he grabbed what he could carry— a handful of dried berries, a few rolls of bread, a pitcher of water— and slipped back into the kitchen proper.

He set the bread and water down on the table and began to rummage through the kitchen drawers with his now-free hand. As he did he forced himself to eat the berries one by one. The sudden burst of flavor he got from the first one was heavenly and made him want to shove the rest in his mouth all at once, but Elze’ith’s warning still echoed in his head, so he forced himself to go slowly as he searched the kitchen. Eventually, he found what he was looking for: a long, sharp blade. The weight of it in his hand made him instantly feel more at-ease. Finishing off the last of the berries, he carefully tucked the knife into the waistband of his pants and grabbed the bread and water so he could slip back out of the kitchen.

The thought occurred to him, as he closed the door to the kitchen behind him, that he was close to the castle’s entrance hall. If he wanted, he could slip right out the front door. But there was no way he was leaving Elze’ith behind.

Instead, he found another set of stairs and made his way up. Elze’ith’s room was on the second floor, and as much as he wanted to visit his partner, he couldn’t risk running into Lord Denholm as well. So he reluctantly continued up to the third floor; he had no idea what was up there, but if he was lucky, he would find something useful.

There didn’t seem to be anyone on this floor either, though he kept on high alert for any breach of the silent atmosphere. The first two doors he poked his head into he chose to ignore, no matter how much he wanted to lay waste to the alchemy lab and trophy room he found. Then, however, he came across a set of double doors, and found they opened into a large library, with sprawling shelves and all manner of couches and chairs for reading. He smiled; this he could work with.

A quick perusal of the shelves gave him a vague sense of the organizational system- fiction and poetry towards the front, then history towards the middle, and an extensive collection of alchemical and magical texts that made up the back half of the library. It would take him hours to find anything specific in here, months to sort through it all. And he didn’t have that kind of time. 

If he could figure out what Lord Denholm had been looking into lately, he might be able to get an idea of what he was planning. But there were no books left out on the library’s tables, so realistically he didn’t have much to go off of on that front. He did, however, know a thing or two about buildings made by and for powerful people. So chances were, in the library, if he looked hard enough…

Well. He took a bite of bread and headed for the back of the library. Time to start checking the furniture.

He was halfway through his second bread roll when one of the sconces he tugged on yielded under his hand. He grinned as one of the shelves began to creak. It slowly shifted to the side, revealing the hidden room he had been looking for. Silently hoping that the opening of the doorway hadn’t been too loud and alerted someone, he stepped through.

The hidden room was smaller than the library itself, and seemed to be more of a study. It had its own set of bookshelves and cabinets, a few chairs around a low table, and a large desk against one of the walls. Small magical gems on the ceiling gave the room a faint, warm glow. And unlike the library, in which everything was put away properly, this room had books and papers spread out across its various surfaces. Altair’s grin grew wider; there was bound to be something useful here.

He set the bread and water down on the table and sank into one of the adjacent chairs. Gods, it felt good to sit in something soft again after so long. Exhaustion washed over him in a wave, and he almost wanted to close his eyes and let sleep take him. He knew he couldn’t, though, especially not here.

There was a notebook close at hand to where he sat down, so he flipped it open and began looking through it. He immediately recognized the elegant, curved handwriting as Elze’ith’s, and he pressed his lips together. So Lord Denholm had allowed Elze’ith to do some research, then, judging by the mentions of leylines and wards he caught as he skimmed the text. Was this Elze’ith’s own research, or was this done at Lord Denholm’s behest? Did Elze’ith even know this room existed, or had Lord Denholm just taken his notebook away one day? So many questions, and so few opportunities to get answers

Another turn of the page had him frowning. There were sketches of glyphs that seemed strangely familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place. The next page had the same glyphs but slightly modified, accompanied by notes in a different handwriting.

“Connects cuff into matching pair”

“Modulates magic drain so wearer is never entirely bereft of magic”

“Requires magical spark to release; also allows cuffs to connect to each other or other surfaces as required”

Altair’s eyes widened in realization. He looked down at his wrists, then back at the notebook. The glyphs that glowed faintly on the cuffs on his wrists matched those in the notebook nearly perfectly. His stomach twisted; Elze’ith had helped Lord Denholm make these wretched things. Had he known that Lord Denholm was going to use them to bind Altair? They were the only sorcerers in the Valley, so either Lord Denholm had intended them for Altair, or for Elze’ith. And Elze’ith was clearly perfectly well-subdued already.

When Elze’ith had told Altair that he couldn’t take the cuffs off, had he been lying? Could he genuinely not know? Or maybe he was forbidden from taking them off Altair… He didn’t want to doubt his partner. But staring at the designs that were keeping him helpless, sketched in Elze’ith’s hand, it was so hard not to.

He cautiously flipped the page. The rest of the notebook was blank. He threw it back onto the table, not caring about the way it skidded and fell off the other side. Instead, after taking a drink of water that did little to ease his churning stomach, he stood and made his way to the desk. Maybe whatever he found there would be less disquieting.

Many of the papers on the desk, upon a cursory glance, didn’t tell him much. They were mostly just ledgers and tax records and things of that sort. There was, however, an old tome with a piece of parchment sticking out of the front cover. Some of the ink was smudged, but the handwriting was still legible.

“Soul magic can be used to bind two individuals together. Basic form of this connection allows for rudimentary sharing of emotions. More powerful forms allow direct reading of thoughts and even control over thoughts and actions. 

“Connections are always two-way. However, one or both parties may be unaware of full nature of connection, depending on manner of creation. (This can be exploited.)

“Often needs a conduit to establish. Agreements (pacts) are a common conduit (see: fey bargains; devils’ pacts), as are moments of significant physical/emotional intimacy. Times/locations of great magical power can result in inadvertent establishment. A third party may also act as an intermediary. Forceful establishment of a soul bond may require a powerful ritual or artifact if another conduit is not in place.”

This… Altair tensed, crumpling the parchment in his hand slightly. This was how Lord Denholm was controlling Elze’ith. He had linked their souls. And based on these notes, he wasn’t just controlling Elze’ith’s actions, but his thoughts as well. That was beyond what Altair had even fathomed was happening. Lord Denholm probably wasn’t even letting Elze’ith think about resisting him. Altair felt sick even contemplating it. No wonder Elze’ith was so… different now.

He bit his lip, heart twisting slightly with guilt. His earlier suspicions about Elze’ith’s intentions felt misplaced now. Because it was all-too clear now how little actual choice Elze’ith had in anything that he did here.

Although… the connection supposedly worked both ways. Did Elze’ith know that? Did he have any idea he could potentially delve into Lord Denholm’s mind, maybe even reclaim some control? That might be difficult, though, if he couldn’t speak… Was that why? 

Putting the loose parchment aside, he started to flip rapidly through the tome it had been tucked away in. Maybe he could find a way to break that connection somewhere in here. But he quickly found that the book was written in a language he couldn’t understand, and he snapped it shut again in frustration. Of course it wouldn’t be that simple.

At least he knew not to make any agreements with Lord Denholm that could serve as a conduit for a soul connection between the two of them. At least the next time he saw Elze’ith, he could make sure he knew just how deep Lord Denholm’s control went, so that they could try to find a way to counteract it. Little victories.

He finished off the rest of the bread roll and took another sip of water before turning his attention to the other book on the desk. Judging from the cover, it appeared to be a genealogical history of prominent families on the continent. Dread prickled in the back of his mind as he found a page that was bookmarked and opened to read.

“The Buchannan Family have held dominion over the Aticester Expanse for generations. With great mastery over magic, they claim a celestial lineage as the source of their—”

“There you are.”

The room plunged into darkness. Altair suddenly became aware of Lord Denholm’s suffocatingly powerful aura. He immediately reached for the knife in his waistband, but a strong, unyielding hand seized his wrist and wrenched his arm behind his back. Altair barely had time to react before Lord Denholm grabbed his shoulder and shoved him forward until he was bent over the desk, the force of the collision making him grunt.

“You,” Lord Denholm said, voice heavy with displeasure, “Are not supposed to be here, little ruin.”

Panic coursed through Altair’s body. How had he not noticed Lord Denholm’s approach? And the position he was in, bent over the desk with Lord Denholm right behind him, had his heart racing with fear of the implications.

Maybe this was still salvageable. He slowly started reaching for the knife with his free hand, hoping to grab it before Lord Denholm noticed.

“Ah.” With preternatural swiftness, Lord Denholm’s hand slid down Altair’s arm to grasp at the spot just below the cuff. He tightened his grip, and Altair saw white as he heard the sound of bone snapping in Lord Denholm’s hand. He couldn’t hold back a sharp cry of pain as Lord Denholm moved his now-broken arm behind his back next to his other arm. “None of that, now.”

There was a pressure on his back and arms as Lord Denholm leaned over. Altair hissed out a breath at the surge of pain in his broken arm. When Lord Denholm spoke, his voice was right next to Altair’s ear. “You really should have stayed put, little ruin. Things would have gone so much better for you if you had.” Lord Denholm wrenched Altair’s arm a little higher up his back, and he made a choked sound of pain. “I’m going to have to impose severe consequences for this. For you and my light.”

Altair’s blood ran cold. “Don’t you dare hurt Elze’ith. This isn’t his fault.”

“Oh, I do like to hear you beg.” For a moment the growl in Lord Denholm’s voice was replaced with satisfaction, and a different kind of white-hot fear jolted through Altair. “But begging won’t save you now.”

The pressure on his back eased as Lord Denholm withdrew and pulled him upright. Having his broken arm forcibly moved sent lightning bolts of pain through his nerves, forcing him to grit his teeth to keep from crying out again. He heard a faint click as his cuffs were locked together, then Lord Denholm roughly grabbed his biceps and pushed him forward.

“Come. We’ll discuss things more downstairs.”

[bunnisari]

Okay so, we’re obviously Connie’s very spoiled girlfriend

Reader had eyes on this really expensive bag that she’s been dying to have. She asked Plug!Connie and he has the audacity to tell us no, just to see how we’d react. Reader starts having a really nasty bratty attitude for a week and now daddy gotta set us straight 🫣

WARNINGS ✩ — squirting, smoking, sloppy messy blowjob, reader calls con daddy, reader is sensitive emotionally,rough sex, crying, handjob,overstimulation + just nasty stuff (may b a couple mistakes bc i didnt feel like re-reading imma do it later tho😭)

JEAN passed the blunt over to Connie, slightly shaking from coughing. Connie, who was sitting on Eren’s couch, shook his head as he scrolled through your ig story. “Swear this lil girl want me to fuck her shit up,” Connie mumbled as he hit the blunt.

Eren laughed from the floor, sitting in a bean bag. “What she do now?”

“She got a lil attitude with me because I told her not to let her fucking demon dog in the room anymore. So now she posting shit she know will make me mad” Connie passed his phone to Eren, letting him look at your story.

“You spoil that girl wayyy too much anyway,” Jean added.

“What you mean?” Connie asked with an attitude.

“She never listen to your ass because you say yes to everything she says. She literally gets whatever she wants from you.” Connie fights the urge to defend his spoiled princess but, Jean was making a point.

“I mean he did kinda do it to himself, not her” Eren passed the blunt to Jean.

“Bro you’re her bitch” Jean says in disbelief. “Shut yo long headed ass up. I am not her bitch” Connie defends himself, although a part of him agreed with Jean. Connie never really did put you in check unless it ended with angry sex. He was never super stern with, just letting you get by with everything.

But that was the way it was supposed to be. You were his spoiled little princess who always got what she wanted because she deserves it more than anyone.

“Just tell her no to see how she reacts”

Connie doesn’t give an answer, just contemplating on it.

“Ight”

“Isn’t she gorgeous baby just look” You practically shove your phone in Connie’s face. Connie looks at the pink purse. “I’ve been obsessing so bad and I neeedd it, please” Your glossy lips pout as you beg.

Connie furrowed his eyebrows, “Mhmm no I think you’re good.” You jerk your head back, trying to process that word, No.

You don’t have a great history with the word no.

“No y/n you can’t have this”

“No y/n you can’t have that”

Why would anyone deny you anything?

“What? Why! What did I do? Why not!?” You whined feeling the need to cry.

“You don’t exactly deserve it. You haven’t been good”Connie fought the urge to smile at you, such a crybaby. “What!? Baby I have what are you talking about?” You sat up, sitting on Connie’s lap.

“Your instagram stories, you keep going to parties I tell you not to go to. You needa get your act together” You gasped, offended that he was acting so nonchalant. He was basically telling you that he didn’t love you anymore.

“So until you fix your attitude then maybe, you can get it” Connie practically brushed you off and reached for his blunt. You sat there frozen for a minute, feeling betrayed and heartbroken.

“Okay Connie.” You said in a monotone voice before getting off of Connie and walking out of the room.

The rest of the week has been hell for Connie.

You had one of the worst attitudes ever, giving Connie silent treatment, short answers, and no sex.Were you trying to kill him?

In your point of view, you weren’t gonna stop until he apologized ( with an apology gift to go with ).

Connie walked in the house, hearing you blast “Me, Myself, and I” by Beyonce. Connie shook his head, obviously understanding the message.

“Baby!” Connie yelled from downstairs.

Meanwhile you sat at your vanity, fixing your hair. Connie opened the door to your beauty room, “You ain hear me calling you?” He asked while squinting his eyes at you. “I guess not.” Connie watched as you rolled your eyes.

Connie leaned on the door, poking his tongue against his cheek. “What’s yo problem?” He finally asked.

You stayed silent.

“I’m talking to you, Y/N.” Connie said sternly.

“Nothing Connie” You stood up, fully showcasing your tight outfit.

“ where you goin” Connie looked you up and down, ignoring his boner and licking his lips.

You were wearing a tight denim mini skirt with baby tee, showing your boobs practically poking out the top. “Just going out” You grabbed your purse which Connie recognized it as a new one.

You had to buy it yourself since no charges came from Connie’s card and you’ve been avoiding him like crazy. Connie knew you were really mad if you start paying for your own stuff. You walked passed him, purposely hitting him with your purse and a small oops leaving your mouth.

Connie just smiled to himself, shaking his head. You were gonna sleep really good tonight.

“What I tell you about walking away from me mama?” Connie followed you to the living room. You didn’t answer, walking to the front door.

You stood a little shocked as Connie sat on the couch. He got pretty comfortable, reaching for his phone out of his pocket.

Just as you reached for the lock, “Y/N come sit down with me”

Your legs practically went numb as you heard the tone in Connie’s voice. He sounded very very stern which meant he was not in the mood to be fucked with.

Your boldness melted away. Your head immediately went down, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

You sat in the loveseat across from Connie, messing with your fishnets. “I said come sit with me Y/N” You didn’t hesitate to move the second he said your name.

Yeah he was pissed.

You walked over to Connie, his hand grabbing yours as he pulls you on his lap. You land on Connie’s muscular thigh, his hand immediately going to your inner thigh.

His touch felt good, your attention now focused on the feeling. His tatted fingers massaging your inner thigh.

“What’s yo problem? Didn’t even care to ask me how my day was,” Connie looked up at you as you stayed silent. A pinch was sent to your inner thigh, making you jump.

“I don’t have a problem Connie. I was just trying to have fun”

“Why you lying to me Y/N” Connie grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“You just made me upset and I-I just really wanted the bag” Connie’s thumb wiped against your bottom lip, smearing your lip gloss.

“Instead of acting like a brat you should’ve told me that you were upset. I thought we agreed to talk like adults whenever we feel upset with eachother, not do this petty ass silent treatment shit.”

“I’m sorry Con” Your voice small and quiet out of guiltiness.

“I don’t believe you ma” Connie leaned back on the couch, removing his hands from your body.

You whined, missing his touch after you ignored him for days. “I really am daddy”

Connie almost folded at the pet name, fighting the urge to pound you into the couch until your makeup comes off but that could wait. He wanted to make you beg a little longer.

“I don’t believe you. Gonna show me how sorry you are hm?” You quickly nodded, taking place between his spread legs. Your hands immediately went for the band of his sweatpants, tugging them down with eagerness. Connie lifted up his hips, letting you pull down his boxers as well. His cock springing up against his stomach ( his name ain’t connie springer for no reasonnnn)

Your tongue ran up his balls, going all the way up to the tip. “Fuck” Connie mumbled to himself, it’s felt like forever since you’ve gave him a blowjob.

You hollowed your cheeks as you took him down to the base. You flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling him stuff your throat.

Your hands rested on the floor besides your knees, stabling yourself as you tried to breathe through your nose.

You gagged once you felt Connie buck his hips upwards. Connie’s hands went to your head, keeping you in place.

Your nose was flush against his lower stomach. Connie thrusted up into your mouth, groaning to himself. The more he looked down at you, the angrier he got.

How dare you ignore him and keep this pretty little mouth away from him. You could feel your scalp become sore from the deadly grip Connie had on it.

The sloppy sound of your gags and the wetness of your mouth filled the living room. The scene was so nasty and filthy, your saliva leaking all around Connie’s cock and your mouth.

Your hands tapped at Connie’s thighs. Connie lifted your head up, letting you breathe. Strings of spit connected from your mouth to Connie’s cock, making him groan.

You panted, feeling your sticky lip gloss all over your mouth.

“Stick your tongue out” Connie slowly stroked himself. You stuck your tongue out. Connie slapped his dick around your tongue, making your saliva drip down to your boobs. Connie rubbed his dick all over your lips before bringing it down to your chest.

“F-fuck” Connie moaned deeply. Your eyes watered, feeling so humiliated and used.

“You sorry baby?” Connie asked, slapping your wet cheek. A tear ran down your cheek, running black with your mascara. “Y-yes” You whimpered. Your hands twisted up and down his cock.

“ Gonna b-be g..good for me hm?” You stuck your tongue out, looking up at Connie. You watched as Connie pushed out a glob of spit, it landing on your tongue. You swallowed, Connie slapping your cheek once again. “Look at me ma” Your eyes locked with Connie’s before he pushed your head down on his dick again, moving your head up and down. You moaned lightly, causing a vibration to run through connie’s cock. “Make me c-c..ah..cum” Connie hissed, feeling your take him so deep. Connie could feel his stomach tightening , toes curling, and thighs clenching. “F-fuck baby” Connie pulled out of your mouth, ribbons of white cum squirting in your face. Connie winced as he rubbed his cum into your face with his tip, smearing it all over your lips (since you like lip gloss so much)

Your mascara ran down your face, making you look an absolute mess. a beautiful mess

“f-fuckfuckfuck m’sorry! i-im sorry daddy, i’m s-s..i’m so sorry” Your muffled cries fell on deaf ears, Connie continuing his brutal thrusts. He was fucking you so so so hard.

It hurt so bad but felt so good. Your legs went numb rounds ago and your body was a mess, covered in your own fluids mixed with Connie’s.

Your mouth was open, sending your screams into the silk white pillow. Connie hovered above you, holding onto the headboard as he slammed his hips into you. “F-fuck cum again” Connie ordered you, reaching between your legs to rub your swollen clit.

“I-i can’t-” You gasped out, on the verge of passing out. You gripped onto the cold pillows, trying to pull yourself up and away from his torture. Connie took notice of this and wrapped his hand around your throat, pulling you back.

“You are.” You heard Connie sternly mutter.

You whined, your hand reaching behind you to push Connie away only for Connie to grab both of your hands. He pinned them down on the deep arch in your back, absolutely churning your insides.

“I-i..i promise pa- m’not go..gonna act up anymore” You cried out, loosing all of your body strength.

You body physically went numb altogether, a rush of pleasure washes over you. Your legs shook violently. You let out a scream that you were not aware of, clenching hard on Connie’s cock.

“S-shit” Connie looked down, seeing you wet up his lower body

(“they told me to stay out that water park😔” - future baby daddy connie with his five kids tackling him)

The pressure pushed Connie’s cock out of you, causing him to paint your ass with white ribbons.

Connie took a moment to breathe before he moved from above you, your breathing was now steady and you laid flush into the bed.

Connie squinted his eyes, slowly turning your face. No way this girl is sleep right now I ain done

“Baby...Baby…..Baby” Connie shook your body, waking you up. You whined, going right back to that bratty attitude that Connie loved oh so much.

“Whattt” You were so exhausted, moving was not an option right now.

After a much needed bath, you fell right asleep with just a bra and panties on. You were knocked out, sleeping all the way until 12 pm.

You woke up to just you in the bed, your house ringing silence. (Marshmallow is at a doggy hotel getting groomed #materialgworl💅) Instead of waking up to Connie’s presence you woke up to a box with a note on top of it.

‘Had to leave early and handle some business with Ony, I’ll be back before you know it. Thank me later sexy’

You sat the note aside before taking the top off of the pink box, only to see the very purse the got you in this situation to begin with.

[tyquu]

Updated Juice Gonk page for @engagemythrusters !! Featuring even more flavours of Juice gonk! (which you can get as stickers here if you want)

[kasterarts]

Moving Forward. (Spoilers for YTTD up through 3-1b)

[sunglassesmish]

some funny and some cute moments from this extremely long podcast episode with lou. i watched this because i saw his post with this picture

and he said he’d talk about why he doesn’t have a girlfriend and i wanted to find out why. he didn’t actually do that, in fact, he basically said ‘i don’t need a girlfriend’. so that’s neat.

[houseofoddballs]

Fuck it. Trauma bond Ghoap with a forgotten reader because all I can write is angst. Final word count is about 3,700, enjoy! Sorry about the lackluster ending and fair warning that Soap is a bit of a dick and fairly OOC.

Tw: Emptional neglect, light nsfw, mentions of torture. (Tell me if there are any more to add!)

You had never heard of trauma bonding, not before your 6'2 masked boyfriend brought back his Scottish best friend. Ghost was never one to be shy or sheepish, but the way that he bowed his head as he told you that he had fallen in love with Soap during their capture and torture, well, it broke your heart a bit. You thought that was going to be the end of it, that he was going to choose the mowhawked muscle over you (and you couldn't really blame him after the small tidbits about the incident you had heard) but then Ghost dropped to one knee and held your hands in his own as he looked you dead in the eyes and begged you not to make him choose, because he still loved you too. And how were you supposed to turn him down?

So, that's how you ended up living with two discharged military men. At first, things were a little rocky. You and Soap were getting along and getting to know each other after all. You weren't exactly dating Soap, but the threesomes made it hard to understand what exactly you were. Polygamy? It didn't matter, though, because Ghost was the one you loved. Ghost was the man who had stolen your heart and treated it like a golden retriever treats eggs. Gently, softly, sweetly. And you had done your best to do the same.

But Soap? Soap was... different. Where Simon was quiet and calm, Soap was loud and boisterous. Where Simon was introverted and kept to himself, Soap was ambiverted (at best) and loved social media. They were like night and day in a lot of ways, and it made your head spin. Another difference? Soap was SO *clingy*.

It was ok at first. Apparently, Simon and Soap had been captured for nearly a week and took turns watching each other get tortured. In the dead of night, when they got any reprieve, they spent that time whispering sweet words to each other just to keep them level-headed and alive. Trauma bonding. Ghost and Soap were bound to be connected at the hip for at least a bit. Right?

Well, 'just a bit' turned into months. Inseparable. You couldn't get five seconds alone with your boyfriend unless Soap was in the bathroom because he refused to do anything without Ghost.

That would have been OK if you didn't see how much it was wearing on your sweet Simon. Any time you got a minute alone together, he would gently hold your face and apologize to you. Murmur to you with his brows knit up about how exhausting Soap could be and how soothing your quiet company was.

He was burnt-out. No other way to put it. In the fleeting moments you got where you could hold Ghost and do things with him, he was simply exhausted and worn-out from Johnny clinging so tightly to him and making him a part of everything in his life. Simon was definitely an introvert, and hardly ever got time to recharge those batteries on touch and the like.

So what did you do? You gave him space. The time you got to spend alone was spent at a distance, small conversations about the things that interested Ghost, since Soap hardly ever talked about those. You had asked why Johnny was still here if he was really making Ghost so miserable, and all he had told you was that he couldn't leave Johnny, couldn't hurt him. So, you relented and just tried to be supportive. You could be happy like this.

Except you weren't. One can only live on table scraps for so long, but you were willing to try for Ghost, and even for Soap. So when Johnny told Simon that it was irritating how little alone time the two of them got because you were always hanging around and asked him to have a talk with you about it, what did he do? Well, he didn't defend you, that's for sure.

Groceries. How pathetic. Soap finally let you and Ghost get *Groceries* together, just the two of you, and your heart utterly soared. Just you and Simon, for possibly an hour. How long had it been since you could do this? How long had it been since you had even hugged or been hugged by your boyfriend? You had no idea.

But all of that went cold as you finished loading your haul into the trunk. Simon turned to you, dark eyes peeking out from behind his Skull balaclava that he only took off at home. He looked so tired, so exhausted.

"Listen, love... Johnny-..." You froze. Of course, you should have known better. No way Soap would let you and Ghost go somewhere together alone while he just sat at home scrolling through short clips on his phone. Of course, there was a condition, a caviot. But this was Simon, your Ghost, so you heard him out. "Johnny was wondering if you could... give us a bit more space. He feels like he doesn't get enough alone time with me. I'm sorry, love, I promise that I'll make it up to you."

If your heart hadn't sunk into your stomach, you would have had to resist the urge to laugh. Soap wasn't getting enough time with Ghost? The same Soap who had been draining every ounce of willpower out of Ghost until your strong-willed Simon was just complacent? The same Soap who drug Simon wherever he went and whined when you wanted to come with? The same Soap who had kicked you out of your shared room for reasons that you still don't know how he convinced Simon? And yet, he didn't get enough alone time with Simon.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to do or say anything to fight back. But one more look into Simon's weary, amber eyes shut down all of your complaints. He was slowly being worn down, and you didn't know what you could do to help. So, you just nodded.

The entire drive back was silent. At some point, you had reached over and gently held Simon's hand on the center console to let him know that you weren't mad, and he had let you. Your first physical contact with Simon in ages. You helped carry in and put away the groceries, acutely aware of Soaps eyes boring into and watching you for your next move, and then you simply retreated to your room. Alone.

That night, you had to listen as the two made love. Headboard banging against the wall, soft moans permeating through your headphones and into your ears, vibrations buzzing and echoing through the halls. You cred that night, just like so many other nights.

You were being forgotten, forced into invisibility in your own house.

And that's how so many months passed by. With you hiding away in your room and only coming out to eat or eagerly take Johnny's table scraps of Ghost's time. But Ghost hardly ever got any time to himself, so, sometimes you would just let him be and relax. Maybe it was simply time for you to move on.

That's when the texts came. Any time Johnny was gracious enough to give Ghost a moment of peace and you either didn't know or just let him relax, he would text you. "Johnny's still at work." "I miss you, love." "I'm on the couch." "Come see me?"

He was making you feel loved, needed even. Even though most of that time spent was him complaining about Soap, every time he would look at you with those soft brown heart melting eyes and thank you for being so understanding and supportive. He would tell you that he loved you so much and that you didn't know how much having you there kept him sane. And how could you leave him like that?

You wished that you had made Simon choose. Nearly five years of this neglect. Simon was so physically overstimulated by Johnny's constant need to be touching him, that something as small as resting your hand on his thigh made him irritable. Johnny would openly complain about you right in front of you, and Ghost would just sigh and let Johnny think he was having his way because it was better than fighting and dealing with Johnny being bitter and whiny.

It was fucking torture. Do you know what that's like? To be slowly isolated and forgotten in your own household? Yes, you do. Because Johnny has made sure of that. Are you going out too much? Johnny is complaining. Are you working too much? Johnny is complaining. You watch too many shows with them? Johnny is complaining. It was getting to the point where you only left your room to eat and when Simon texted you, period. Soap had insisted that with him and Ghost working civilian jobs, you should stay home to keep things tidy and make life a little easier. All it had taken was for Ghost to agree that that would make things easier for you to relent since your job wasn't the best anyway. But the pure isolation that you felt from only interacting with the two of them unless Johnny was gracious enough to let you come with them on an errand?

It was debilitating.

Finally, everything came to a head. "Hey Johnny, would you go to the corner store and pick up some soda?" "Would you come with?" "I would have bloody come with three hours ago right after work. Now I'm in my fuckin' pajamas. Not goin' anywhere like this." "Well, you know I dinnae like going right after work, Simon."

This was your opportunity, your chance. Soap was nose deep in some book he was reading and only half paying attention while you sat next to Simon on the couch, his feet propped up on your lap.

"I would go with you?" Simon's eyes flicked to you, a small smile pulling at his lips. "Yeah, love, that would be great. Mind makin' a list for me so I know what all we need to pick up?" A task. You loved when Simon gave you things to do, because whith those things to do was always some form of praise or appreciation upon completion. You ate it up whole and completely. "Of course, Si. I'll be ready by five tomorrow." "It's a date then, love."

And so, that's how you flitted around the house all day, straightening up and making a list of what you needed, absolutely giddy and buzzing wirh hopeless excitement. Soap got home early that day, which wasn't much of a shock, just made you retreat into your room early. Nothing new. Simon would text you when he was ready, right?

You sat by your phone eagerly with baited breath. 5:30. You guessed that work had kept Simon late again. It wasn't that big of a deal. But you sent him a text just to let him know that you hadn't forgotten about him. "I'm ready whenever you get off work, no rush. I love you."

5:30 turned to 6:00 and that's when you finally got the message. "I'm here." Short, sweet, to the point. That was Simon for you. You practically threw yourself off of your bed and ran to the garage with a large grin on your face. Even if it was as simple as groceries, you cherished every moment of time you got with Simon as if it were spending time with God himself. Because, in a way, Simon was your God. You looked up to him, depended on him, revered him, practically worshipped the ground he walked on; because he deserved it in your eyes.

Your grin fell at the sight before you. "Oh, hey Bonnie." Soap was hopping out of the passenger seat of Ghost's Jeep, going around to the trunk and popping it to pull out several grocery bags. Hurt, confusion, and betrayal all pooled together in your gut as you watched him take the bags inside all in one go. But, what about your list? Your phone felt heavier in your pocket as your stomach churned at the realization that to bring up the completion of the task would be pointless now.

"Hop in." Ghosts voice shook you from your haze, and you slowly took Soap's empty seat beside Ghost. Why? The question swam through your head in several versions and variations, like fish in a barrel, trying desperately to find the freedom to burst forth from your lips. But, you just couldn't ask, too afraid of the answer.

"Where do you want to go?" The question almost caught you off-guard. Where did you want to go? Did he mean Groceries? Were there some left? Or did he mean just in general? Was he offering to do something with you? "I um, I don't know." You admitted, eyes flicking between Simon and the road.

"...'M sorry love." He admitted with a sigh, shoulders sagging with the weight of the world placed upon them. "There was a bit of a mix-up, ya see? I got home and texted Johnny to ask if he would ask if you were coming-" Of course, the plan had been to bring Soap all along. That hurt a bit. "- and he told me 'no' so I thought he meant that you didn't want to come."

"I didn't get your message until we were already in the bloody market, and when I asked Johnny about it, he told me that he had told me that he didn't ask you. I felt so plum bad because I knew that you wanted to come with. 'M so sorry, love."

You were so close to losing it. Hot tears stung at your eyes, but you refused to let them fall when Simon was trying so hard, going so far as to take you for an extra drive just to make sure you had some time with him and felt loved.

"I already told Johnny, so he knows that I'm spending some time with you. Tried to throw a fit, but I shut him down." Simon sighed and ran a hand down his mask as he looked over at you while stopped at a red light. "It's ok, Simon, really. I'm just happy to spend this time together with you. That's all I can ask for. Even though you're tired after work and going for groceries, you're still taking the time to make it up to me even though it wasn't your fault. I really appreciate it."

Simon didn't pull away as you clasped his hand in your own, softly running your fingers over the back of his knuckles. He looked so grateful and relieved, as if so much pressure had just been released. He had been so worried about how you were going to take it, about if this small bit of time would be enough.

"Thank you, love. You have no idea how much I appreciate you and how-" Simon was cut off by a loud click and a light being turned on on his dashboard. "Bloody hell, check engine? I'm so sorry. It doesn't seem too big a deal, but I should probably check it out before it becomes an issue. Is that OK, love?"

What were you supposed to say? 'No!' 'For the first time in months, I get some time alone with you, and it's just 20 minutes in a car!?' 'I miss you' 'please don't!' You couldn't. Simon was tired enough as it was with Soap clinging to him. You simply felt dejected as you tried to smile and reassure him that it was ok and that you enjoyed your time together.

When you got home, Simon muttered about checking the engine tomorrow as he herded you inside, plopping down on the couch next to Soap. The sight made your heart hurt even more. You were ready to just head to your cold, lonely room to cry out your frustration when Simon piped up. "Hey, love, mind cooking up some chips for me? I'm bloody starving, and they sound wonderful."

How could you say no? Sitting in your kitchen waiting for the French fries to bake, you couldn't do it anymore. You sobbed quietly into your open palm as you clasped your hand over your mouth to quiet any noises. What were you supposed to do? Staying was only wearing you down and tearing you apart. You felt more like the ghost in this household, forgotten and lost. You were losing yourself, touch starved beyond belief and to the point of isolation where you were starting to sleep more than you were awake because it made the pain go away for a bit.

But leaving would be just as hard. You hadn't been employed for so long because the boys took care of you, which wasn't going to look good on a resume, and you had nowhere to go. But worst of all?

Worst of all was how you knew your leaving would affect Simon. Johnny was consuming all of him and leaving mere shreds, and the only time that Ghost got to indulge in his own interests was with you. But he just couldn’t bring himself to leave Johnny. You were his support system, his pillar.

You knew this, and yet, it still felt so unfair. Simon was everything to you. When you had been at your worst, he had held you and told you that you were beautiful. When he had been deployed for months at a time, you always texted him and told him how much you loved and missed him. He gave all of himself that he had to give to you before Soap came and statched that all away.

And you couldn't blame Simon for how badly the trauma had messed him up! He still had nightmares about that week. Being tortured and having to watch Soap get tortured as well. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night to one of them screaming and waking up on a picnic only for the other to softly murmur and reassure them that they were ok and alive. You couldn't do that, not for Simon, not like Soap could.

A sharp 'ding' cut off your thoughts as the oven beeped, signaling the end of the potato strings furnace treatment. You pulled them out of the oven and put them on a plate, heading to the bathroom to clean yourself up. The time for your little mental breakdown was up. Now you had to go take the fries to Simon like you weren't just bawling, like you were perfectly fine and happy, like you didn't want to scream and shout and beg for things to be different, to change. But that would be selfish of you to do, and Simon couldn't deal with you and Soap both being selfish.

God, you looked like shit. Bags were heavy under your puffy eyes, your nose was red and runny, your face all splochy from your crying, tear streaks running down your cheeks. This wouldn't do. You sighed as you splashed some cold water on your face and took a deep breath, trying desperately to distance yourself and disassociate from these awful feelings.

Once you were sure you looked fine once more, you towled your face off and grabbed the plate, plastering on your 'I'm fine' smile as you took the french fries to Ghost. The way he smiled so softly and gently at you made it all worth it, made you temporarily forget all of that pain. "Thank you, love. You're welcome to stay?"

"No, thank you, I think I'm going to try and catch up in some games. Thank you, though." Ghost didn't press any, didn't ask again. You wished he would ask again, would even try just a bit to make you feel like he loved you a shred as much as you revered him. But you had to remind yourself that you were getting greedy. He had just taken you for a car ride just the two of you, he had just stood up to Soap so you two could have a bit of time alone, he had just done exactly what you were asking him for. And yet you still wanted more.

The realization that you felt terrible for wanting the bare minimum amount of attention and affection for a relationship was just another reminder of how unhealthy this was for you.

"I love you." Simon said, his eyes so soft and sweet. "I love you too." You had to hold back tears as your smile grew a little bit, and you turned. You couldn't even wait until you made it back to your room to start crying. It wasn't fair. You did everything right, did everything Simon asked, and asked nothing in return, you loved him unconditionally with all of your heart and gave all of yourself to him; meanwhile Soap didn't even care enough to give Simon personal space when they were together because it made HIM feel better. And yet, Soap was the one who got all of Simon's time and love simply because it was easier for Simon to cave to his whims than put up with his bitching. You couldn't handle it anymore! Couldn't take it!

But what were you supposed to do? What could you do? Nothing. The only thing you could do was throw a fit, and that would just wear Simon even thinner and wouldn't accomplish anything because things would be the same again within a month.

And so, you did the only thing you could do. You fell asleep crying again, clutching your pillow to your chest, wishing desperately that Simon would finally come to his senses and put you first for once. But you didn't fool yourself into believing it.

Only shooting stars Grant wishes, and all of yours had been shot down.

[north-noire]

When the Marionette finds itself awake in a workshop room, she soon comes to a realization there was more going on to what had happened to the child she was assigned to protect.

Hidden Hands Chapter 6 is out! AO3 Fic Link Here Previous Chapter Beginning Chapter

Hey, I would appreciate it if you reblog this post! I try my hardest for this AU fic, so reblogging it and being able to share it goes a long way!

[spartalabouche]

hold on lemme grab a snack from the vending machine real quick

tysm to @lpsotd for getting me reference pictures for this ^__^

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[jackdawsdrawings]

Drawings for some of the songs in HNOC, will do the last 3 once i can figure out what I even want them to look like :D

[samarecharm]

I wish the thieves had SOME kind of reaction to the Satanael awakening. Kinda wish we at least had RYUJI react to it….

I think its sooooo compelling to have Ryuji be the only person to witness BOTH awakenings; to see how much Akira and his will has grown since they first met. There was a raw, burning fury in Akiras core that recoiled at the injustice before him, and when given the tools to punish said injustice, eagerly accepted it with a wild, almost manic kind of intensity. I think it would be difficult for the others to truly grasp just how scary that was; that for a short moment, Ryuji couldnt pinpoint the cause of that rage, and the target of it. Akiras mellowed out alot since then, but its always in the back of Ryujis head; theres a side of their leader literally none of the thieves have or will ever see, and he doesnt really know how hes supposed to feel about that.

And now the airs charged in the same way he felt back in Kamoshidas palace; right as Akiras eyes widened at seeing him slammed against the wall. The blazing, untamed ferocity in his eyes from back then is replaced with a cool, calm, steely conviction. He knows his purpose; understands completely what his will screamed at him to understand back when it first started. This is the Akira the team knows, and its definitely the one Ryuji is used to now, but its insane to see the shift; insane to see the kind of power that simmered in Akiras core, literally too big and too overwhelming for past Akira to grapple with and set free.

Satanael comes down, and theres a moment, through all the excited screaming and hollering, where Ryuji can see it look right at him, and Ryuji is taken back to the floor of Kamoshidas Palace; not to the fear he felt when Arsene came forth incinerating everything, but immediately after, when Akira comes to with wide eyes and an outstretched hand- that bizarre feeling of safety, of knowing that this kid would have his back, and that hed never have to worry about where his place would be (its right beside him, obviously.)

[dunmeshi-darlings]

Can I request something for Marcille, Chilchuck, Mickbell and Holm with a half-foot reader who is not someone to avoid a fight like most half-foots would because they are a duellist/dagger wielding rogue? They even seem a little reckless because they trust so much in their own skill of avoiding hits so they dare come in close when fighting something.

Oh now that is a delightful image! i love when a character subverts the expectations of the race they are in fantasy. Dwarf Mages, Elf barbarians, etc etc. this sounds delightful.

Marcille looked at you the same way as she looked at chilchuck, she couldnt help but view you as a child like she did with chilchuck. she giggled seeing you with your daggers and even asked if you were old enough to be using those, worrying that you might cut yourself.

So imagine her reaction when during the first fight you charge in with your daggers, slashing and stabbing and dashing all over the monster. your size and speed making you damn near impossible to hit . marcille was shocked, you had told her time and time again you werent a kid and were good in a fight but she just attributed that to you being embarrassed.

She apologizes to you for assuming you were young and that you couldnt look out for yourself. she let her biased views influence how she viewed you and she felt bad about it, you accept her apology and you two become good friends. Your speed lets you duck in and out of range of her explosions to deal damage with your knives. you two make a great team.

Chilchuck absolutely knows about you, he had heard about you through the grapevine. He had thought about getting you in the union to make sure nobody took advantage of you, but all things considered he figured you were more than capable of handling yourself.

When you joined the party he assured everyone of your skills, that if even half the stories he had heard of you were true then you would be an excellent addition to the party. And sure enough when the first first starts and your zipping in and out of combat slashing and stabbing the enemy chilchuck just smiles smugly at everyones wonder. He comments how not all half foots are squishy and bad at fighting.

Normally he would discourage you from a fellow half foot getting into an immediate melee brawl but your skills make him think that isnt an issue. He does still care about you, your a fellow half foot so of course he is going to look out for you. He cant help looking out for his fellow half foots.

Like chilchuck mickbell had heard of you before, that you were supposedly some half foot that was great in a fight? sounded like a loud of bullshit to him, he thought you were just somebody talking alot of game and having no real skill to back it up. that you likely were just lying to people.

Mickbell nearly faints when he finally sees you in action, As he hid behind some rocks he watches as you and kruo charge in slashing and stabbing at the monster. The two of you fighting with such savagery and speed, he wasnt sure who was more animalistic in their assault. The monster eventually slayed he steps out of his hiding spot.

He looks at you with wide eyes, saying how cool you were and how your so awesome! the way you were just running circles around the monster was the coolest thing he had ever seen! that you had to teach him how to do stuff like that.

(apologies i couldnt find a proper gif of holm)

When you joined the party and told him about your skills he belived you, his intuition told him that you were much more skilled than you let on so when you told him your fighting style it made sense to him. And when mickbell said you were likely lying holm said he didnt believe it for a second.

When the first fight with a monster happened you noticed his Undine Marillier by your side. Its way of attacking complimenting your fighting style, as you attacked and dodged the monsters attacks it would snipe at the monster each time you opened up its weakness. the two of you really were a dangerous pair in combat. Of course you also were quick to draw the monsters aggro back onto you to keep marillier safe.

After the fight holm gently pet at the undine and resealed it, thanking you for helping it in the fight. "thanks for watching her back, your one of the few people that tries to not let her get hurt." he says with a smile thanking you. You tell him its no problem, after all your team mates.

[blackbirdi]

One-Sided pt. II

If you haven't read the first part already, the link to part 1 is here

I'm so sorry this took so long, guys, I was struggling with ideas. Anyways, enjoy :)

Brief Description: Sirius begins to notice how suddenly you're around him a lot less than usual. What could he have done to make you want to avoid him at all costs? And why does your avoidance hurt him this much?

Point of View: 3rd Person

Word Count: 2181

Character: Sirius Black x Reader

House: Gryffindor

Year: Sixth Year

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Sirius has talked to Y/n last, and it's driving him up the wall. The only other time where he doesn't talk to her for that long is during the summer, but at least they owl back and forth non-stop, and now suddenly he hasn't heard her sweet voice in two damn weeks.

And it's not as though he hasn't tried to talk to her. Hell, he's been going out of his way to run into her just to ask what was up with her, but every time she sees him, she runs away. And now she's changed the time of her daily activities (going to the library to read/study, walk in the courtyard, visit Hagrid, etc.) – not that he knew the times she was going by heart before she changed them – so now he can't even run into her then.

Two weeks. Two damn weeks. And he's not going any longer without her.

It was Saturday and the Marauders were all hanging out in their dormitory, and Sirius was itching to find Y/n and beg ask her to forgive him for whatever he must have done to have her ignore him like this.

"Remus," Sirius calls, breaking the silence.

"Hm?" Remus hums, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading, which only caused Sirius to grow more frustrated.

He closes his eyes before he snaps at Remus, taking a deep breath to calm himself. The only thing that does is cause his eyes to well up with tears. 

Godric, what was up with him? Was Y/n really causing him to get this upset?

When he speaks next, his voice breaks, which causes all the other Marauders to lift their heads and look at Sirius with concern.

"Why won't Y/n talk to me?"

The other three Marauders share a few glances at one another before looking back at Sirius. The pity in their eyes as they look at him causes Sirius to grow frustrated once again.

His eyes, which were previously filled with tears, harden as he wipes them away. His lips pull back into a thin line as he glares down at his own hands.

"She keeps avoiding me! I haven't said anything to her in weeks!" he cries angrily. "And even when I do say something to her, she just ignores me and runs off! Did I do something to make her mad at me?"

"I'm sure you didn't do anything, Padfoot," James tries to comfort him. "Maybe Y/n just needs space for a while."

"Space from what?" Sirius snaps. "What did I do that would've wanted her to space herself from me? And only me! I haven't seen her ignoring you three, or anyone else for that matter! What did I do!?"

“Pads –” Remus starts, but is quickly interrupted.

“Why do you care so much anyway?” James asks. “It’s just Y/n.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter all shoot James a glare, all three of them knowing that was not the right thing to ask.

“Yeah, Y/n, my friend,” Sirius sneers. “I care because Y/n is one of my closest friends and now suddenly she’s ignoring me! Do you have any idea how much that hurts? Because it does, a lot.”

“We know, Padfoot,” Peter replies, trying to make his voice sound comforting, although to Sirius it sounded more like pity. “I think James was trying to ask why you’re so … no quiet over dramatic about it … but more upset than you normally would be about something like this.”

“Yeah,” James agrees. “That’s exactly what I was trying to ask, thank you, Pete.”

Sirius glares at the both of them, his teeth gritting together as he tries to hold back from snapping at the two of them.

Why was he upset? Really? One of his best friends just straight up ditched him! Of course he was fucking upset!

“How do you twats not understand that I am upset my friend has fucking abandoned me!” Sirius snarls, his voice wavering as he tries to control his anger.

The others share another, worried glance, which drives Sirius even more insane.

Of course, Remus, James, and Peter quickly caught on that Y/n was avoiding Sirius, and were even quicker to catch on why. It wasn’t that hard to see that Y/n had finally had enough of her silly little crush on Sirius and was trying to stomp it out by avoiding him. And of course, Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail knew that avoiding Sirius at all costs wasn’t going to get rid of Y/n’s feelings for Sirius. And of course, Lupin, Potter, and Pettigrew knew that Sirius’s own feelings towards Y/n were developing beyond friendship.

“I can talk to her if you want me to,” Remus offers.

The usual stormy grey of Sirius’s eyes had darkened considerably in anger, his eyes narrowing at Remus in a glare.

“You’ve done quite a lot of talking to her,” he hisses. “A lot more than I have in Merlin knows how long. Do you know how frustrating that is, Remus? To see that Y/n, who suddenly hates me, is still all buddy-buddy with the three of you? Do you know how shitty it makes me feel when I see her talking to you and then she immediately runs away whenever she sees me? Do you?”

“No,” Remus replies, his voice squeaky at the anger in Sirius’s tone.

"That's what I thought," Sirius snarls, standing up from his bed abruptly.

With quick strides Sirius finds himself at the dormitory door, the door opened an inch before Peter asks curiously, "Where are you going?"

"To fucking find her!" Sirius snaps, turning around and facing his friends. "I can't keep going like this, without her. I - I need her, okay? I need her because ... because I love her. I love her. Holy shit, I love Y/n. I'll be back guys, but I need to find Y/n, even if that means searching every nook and cranny of this godforsaken castle."

He's out the door in another split second, the door slamming closed behind him.

Silence settles over the other three as they share glances, confused evident on each of their faces.

"Well," Remus finally mutters, breaking the silence. "He handled that a lot better than Y/n did when she realized she was in love with Sirius."

–––––––––––

To Sirius's surprise it didn't take him that long to find her. She was sitting in the courtyard, leaning against the truck of a tree with a book on her lap.

Sirius was careful to approach her quietly, not wanting her to spot him and jump up and run away (like she had been doing for two weeks straight).

When Y/n finally looked up from her book, the first thing she saw was Sirius looming in front of her. Her eyes widened as they made eye contact, scrambling to pick up her book and getting to her feet.

"Y/n, wait," Sirius snaps, grabbing onto her wrist with a vice-like grip before she could run away. "Please, don't run again, please."

Y/n sighs, trying to tug her wrist out of Sirius’s grip before she turns and faces him for the first time since the Quidditch game. Her struggling ceases as she sees the pain behind Sirius’s eyes, the pain that she would’ve caused every single time she ignored him or ran away.

“Please, Y/n/n,” he begs in a whisper, pulling her closer to him. “Please, don’t leave me again. I miss you so much. And I am so, so sorry if I did something to hurt you, or did something that made you want to avoid me. I never meant to, I don’t think I have done anything, but if I did just say the word and I will hold myself responsible for it and I will do anything I can to get back in your good graces because I miss you. So, so much. I hate that I haven’t seen you in two weeks, I hate that I haven’t talked to you in two weeks, I hate that I haven’t heard your voice in two weeks, and I hate that you’ve been avoiding me. I’m not blaming you because obviously it must have been something I did, but please Y/n, please, please, please stop avoiding me. I miss you.”

A wave of guilt washes over Y/n as she listens to Sirius, watching tears well in his eyes as it gets increasingly harder for him to talk without choking on his words. However, she can't help the little flutter her heart gives at his words.

Sirius takes a breath, trying to collect himself as he finally says everything he was feeling.

"And-and I hate how much it hurts that you've been doing this. I shouldn't care, I really shouldn't, but I do. I care so goddamn much, Y/n. It's been two weeks, two fucking weeks! I shouldn't be this effected, but I am. I've missed you more in two weeks more than I've missed anything else in my life, more than I miss the Marauders during the holidays, more than I miss Hogwarts during the summer, more than I miss the heat of the summer during the winter, more than I miss the sun in a rainstorm. I missed you, Y/n, and it's only been two weeks. So please, please, please, please, tell me what I did wrong so I can right it and we can go back to how we were before whatever I did."

A pause, a heartbeat before Sirius adds in a trembling voice, "Please."

Y/n takes a shaky breath, trying to stop the heat from rising in her cheeks and giving her away.

"Sirius," she says slowly.

"Please," he interrupts her, his voice breaking. "Please, Y/n. I don't know what I did, but whatever it must have been, I am so sorry. Please, please, please forgive me."

"Sirius," Y/n repeats, "you didn't do anything. I just... I realized something and I shut myself away from you. If anything, I should be saying sorry to you. I never meant to hurt you like this."

Sirius stares at her, confusion bubbling up within him as he listens to her explain.

"I-I don't understand," he admits in a quiet voice. Her stares up at her helplessly. "Why would you avoid me like you have if I didn't do anything? You haven't avoided the others, just me."

Y/n sighs, her heart thudding in her chest as she looks away from Sirius and finally admits in a small voice, "I'm in love with you."

The world stops, for the both of them.

Y/n can't breathe, why would she admit that!? Everything, everything, has been ruined. She ruined their friendship! Why would she do that!?

Sirius can't breathe, did she mean it!? Everything, everything, is going to change, for the better. She felt the same! But why did she avoid him if she loved him?

After what felt like hours of silence, Sirius responds, "I love you, too."

Sirius's heart pounds against his ribcage. Even though she said it first, it's still so hard to admit it.

Y/n's heart pounds against her ribcage. There is no way in hell that he actually feels the same.

"I – w-what?” she stutters, mouth dry.

“I love you too,” Sirius repeats, dropping her wrist. His hands come up to cup her jaw, holding her face in his hands as he smiles down at her. “I-I was thinking about how much I missed you, everything about you – not just your presence – and I guess that led me to realize that I would never feel this way about someone I thought of as my friend. Y/n/n, I realized that I’m in love with you.”

Y/n mirrors Sirius’s smile, relief flooding through her body as her cheeks flush with pink.

“I-I’m glad,” she whispers. “I was scared that you didn’t feel the same; that’s why I started avoiding you. I thought that if I was around you less my feelings would go away, which obviously didn’t work. But I was scared to say something in case I made things awkward between us.”

Sirius chuckles, pressing his forehead against hers, asking in a soft voice, “How could I not be in love with you? You, Y/n L/n, are the most kind, thoughtful, caring, smart, funny, beautiful woman in the whole world; I don’t know how I didn’t realize my feelings for you sooner. I love you.”

“I love you too, Sirius,” Y/n murmurs back. She closes her eyes, relishing in the feeling of Sirius being this close to her.

A comfortable silence fell over the two as they soak in each other’s presence, two hearts beating as one.

Two minutes. It has been two minutes since Sirius has admitted his feelings for Y/n, and it’s making him feel like he’s on top of the world.

Taglist: @littleshadow17 (who asked for a part 2 a month ago. I hope it was up to your standards lol). And @rosieandthethorns (who didn't asked to be tagged but I figured I should let you know so you can stop foaming at the mouth and writhing on the floor lmao)

[mintypsii]

not a part 2, but here's a prequel to this sanuso comic I did last month !!! (takes place the night before ,, technically after the first three panels)