#somehow this took 1/2 hour to draw

[batwynn]

The skeletons, the rain, and the moon.

[moeblob]

I unfortunately picked up Bravely Default 2 again (I bought it back when it released) and then started over since I last played it in June 2021. And. You know what. I like these silly beans. And then I saw concept art for Dag's expressions and I am not the same. Why did they decide to give him huge fangs in it.

(also I'm trying so hard to avoid spoilers less for plot but more for characters so if you know anything that happens to characters shhhhh. also the expression concept is below the read more so you can see what I mean.)

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pictures and things

[remxedmoon]

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[ur-local-wizard]

Eye of the Storm

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

This is part 1! Purely build up in this, so not much fluff and no smut.

college au, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, theo nott being a little oblivious, use of y/n, i think that's it

w/c: 627

masterlist part 2

a/n: was this supposed to be a oneshot? yes. did it turn into a multiple part story? also yes. (Shout out to an irl friend for helping come up with the title!! ily A)

Divination has never been your favorite class. Not because you’re bad at it, you’re actually quite an accomplished student, but because your desk partner was a nuisance.

Mattheo Riddle was the epitome of chaos. And the fact that nobody took Trelawney’s class seriously definitely didn’t help. He wouldn’t even show up half of the time. But when he did, he barely worked. He would just be scribbling in that notebook of his – the one he’s so protective of. “What’s in that notebook? It looks so beat up,” you asked once, leaning forward to get a better look. He immediately snapped the pages shut, “none of your business,” he told you. You haven’t mentioned it since.

But strangely enough, he’s been coming to class pretty consistently this past week. Not like he pays attention, though. And today was no different. His nose was stuck in his notebook, his hand gripping a pencil tight as he scribbled madly. He rarely looked up, but when he did, it was at you. 

You brushed it off, however, telling yourself that he's just making sure you're not trying to sneak another peak at whatever it is he's so wrapped up in. Why would he be looking at you anyway? Or maybe you had something in your teeth.

By the time class ended, Mattheo had already rushed out. But strangely enough, he forgot his notebook. That was a first. He usually never goes anywhere without it. So, being the good person you are, you stuffed it in your bag and walked out the door – deciding that you would give it to him when you see him next. 

The day passed by, and Mattheo was nowhere to be seen. Classes finally ended, and you strolled the halls looking for the Slytherin. After half an hour of looking, you gave up, deciding to wander the halls aimlessly. However, you were broken out of your reverie when you crashed into someone. You stumbled back, apologizing profusely. 

“Shit- sorry,” a deep voice says. It had a hint of an Italian accent – was it Theo? 

You looked up, and sure enough, your hunch was right. The tall European stood in front of you, looking down at the books that fell from your bag. Among them was Mattheo’s notebook. And it fell open to a page full of drawings, one of which caught your attention. It was an eye, drawn in exquisite detail. It was beautiful; the shading, delicate pencil strokes, the way he somehow was able to capture such raw emotion in such a little piece of art. It was truly mesmerizing. 

You quickly dropped down and began to pick up the books sprawled out on the floor, putting Mattheo’s notebook away first. He never let you see what was inside, so you might as well try not to let Theo look at it any longer. 

“Was… that your eye?” Theo asked, startling you. You didn’t even realize it was yours. All you could focus on was the sheer talent radiating from the page. You stood back up, slinging the bag back over your shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Deciding to change the subject, you asked, “Anyway, sorry for bumping into you.” 

“It’s quite alright, bella. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“No, no. I’m perfectly okay. Um… have you seen Mattheo? He left something of his in class,” you questioned.

“Left something in class? Are you sure you’re alright, y/n? The man never attends lectures. You should know that,” he chided, but the look on his face was one of concern.

“Okay, well, forget I said anything,” you blurted. And with that, you hurried away to your dorm, your quick footsteps ringing off the stone floors – a storm of mortification and curiosity warring within you. 

This was an extremely short fic, but I hope you enjoyed it!! Let me know what you think! And as always, let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

[ladykailitha]

The Caged Bird Still Sings Part 14

Hey guys! Welcome back! So this chapter is getting a little heavy on the angsty side, so just a heads up.

Things have been going great for all the stories especially the Christmas one.

This will be the story that keeps its usual schedule next week. Every other posting day will be finishing up the Olympic Swimmer one. So be on the look out for that.

Also super long chapter!

Steve tries out some hobbies, Joyce pushes, and Steve gets depressed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve would like to say he got right on the job search the next day, but he really didn’t. He woke up refreshed and feeling good about himself. After a run on the treadmill and big breakfast he had already talked himself out needing to.

But instead he decided that he wanted to learn new hobbies. He had the money and pretty much unlimited time so why not?

The first thing he tried felting. Yeah, he had a lot of money, but he wanted to start with something cheap in case he got bored with it.

Taking the kit out of the box, he already ran into a problem. The leather finger gloves were much too small. Like he didn’t have fat fingers or anything but they were much too tight to fit on even his pinkie fingers he turned them inside out to see if he could make them bigger somehow.

He only succeeded in ruining the finger gloves. He tried rubber thimbles as replacements but still the sharp tool would pierce even the tough rubber.

The kit sat abandoned in a corner of his hotel room until one of the porters saw it and asked if he could have it. His sister did the felting all the time and she was having trouble finding colors she liked.

So Steve let him have it. Three days later the porter came back with a bright yellow canary and a female robin. He proudly displayed them on his nightstand next to the phone and alarm clock.

Robin loved them, but refused to take the robin. She said they shouldn’t be separated at any price.

Steve loved her a little bit more when she said that.

The next thing he tried was painting.

That lasted all of six hours before they got handed off to Will. It was a beautiful oil, acrylic, and water color set, with all the paint brushes and pallet and metal wood-handled pallet knives.

It lasted that long was because that was the time it took for Steve to set everything up, including an old sheet Rosa let him have, start painting and promptly knock everything over. The water, the paints, the easel. Everything. He broke the easel, knocked a hole in the canvas, and smeared paint all over the apron he had bought just for the occasion.

Will was happy to receive the paints, but in turn he gave Steve a simple notepad and pencil and taught him how to draw.

Steve liked that.

It was just for doodling and making silly pictures so it didn’t make him feel like a failure. He went to the bookstore and bought a bunch of books on how to draw certain things. Animals, the human figure. He even found this great reference book on clothes sorted based on the English monarch who was in power at the time the were wore.

Which was all well and good, but it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

One day while he was over at Will’s talking art and whether or not kneaded erasers were worth the pain they caused if you dropped, Ellie introduced him to a new hobby. Will was against the things, Steve was for.

Jonathan huffed, “That’s probably a class issue as Steve here can afford to replace them and Will can’t.”

Steve and Will stared at each other in complete shock, but had to admit that Jonathan was probably right.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve huffed, “that’s fair. I guess I really didn’t think about it because it’s not my money I’m spending.”

“Have you tried looking for a job?” Joyce asked. She didn’t like that someone was paying to keep Steve safe. As nice as it was, in her experience the well tended to dry up when you least expected it to.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Byers.” Which he had. Yes, he had been focused on trying to learn things that would keep his mind from atrophying, he had also been looking. “If they seen me coming they take down the sign or if they don’t get to it in time, they say it’s an old sign and that they forgot to take it down.”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped in sympathy. The rumor around town is that because Mr. Harrington was the landlord for a lot of the properties that the businesses were on, he had threatened to raise their rent if they gave Steve a job.

Something that all the adults promised not to tell Steve so that he wouldn’t get so discouraged as to not try at all.

But surely Clint Harrington didn’t own every business in Hawkins and she told Steve so.

“No,” Steve huffed. “But he’s friends with ones that he doesn’t. I’m going to try the mall next. Most of the them are franchises and have their main bosses outside of Hawkins.”

She let out a little sigh of relief. It showed that Steve was trying and actively thinking of these types of pitfalls.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. “What have you got there, Ellie?” he asked trying to shift the focus off of him for a moment.

Joyce was watching Ellie while Hopper was at work.

The young girl held up long satin strings of embroidery thread. She had three shades of pink, a white, and a red. She tied the ends to a safety pin that was pinned her leg.

“I’m making friendship bracelets for me and Max,” Ellie said proudly. “The pink is for me, and then I have these colors for her!” She held up blues and purples.

“That’s way cool!” Steve said scooting over to sit next to her.

Jonathan and Will shared a smile. Steve was lost to the shiny allure of friendship bracelets.

“I could teach you if you like,” she said with a smile. “I also have boondoggle!” She held up shiny plastic strips. “I make key chains and other things that need to last a lot longer than the thread.”

Steve really lit up, but then frowned when he saw out intricate it all was. “I’ll never be do anything that fancy.”

Ellie sat closer and pulled out a little paper that she had in her caboodle. “I couldn’t at first either, so I went to the library and took out a book on all the different ways you could plait and how to do boondoggle. Then I copied a couple of the pages I wanted to try.”

She handed it to him and pointed to the easiest. “That’s the one I started with and it will probably take a little bit to get the spacing right.”

Steve tilted his head. “Is this like braiding hair?”

“Yes!” Ellie said excitedly. “That’s right. I forgot you braid Max’s hair all the time. So then it will be easy for you.”

Soon they were off in their own little world.

Joyce watched with her arms crossed and a concerned expression. Jonathan spotted her and shook his head. He stood up and went to stand next to her.

“You’ve got to let it go, Mom,” he said gently. “You aren’t his mom and even if you were, he’s still an adult. As near as anyone of can tell, whoever is footing this bill isn’t in it to exploit Steve, just making sure he’s taken care of.”

Joyce breathed out through her nose as she tried not to snap at her son. She didn’t know that as a fact and Hopper’s reassurances weren’t enough. She hated having to take his word that whoever this was wouldn’t harm Steve. And that galled.

“It’s all the expensive gifts,” she tried to explain. “The car, the unlimited credit card, cash drops weekly, the gold necklace, the hotel. It’s just not right, it’s not decent.”

Jonathan shook his head. “What about all the non-expensive gifts? Things this benefactor thought Steve would like or get a kick out of? Like that little canary with top hat that he keeps on his dashboard? Or all the music tapes they send, thinking Steve might want to try something different. Hell, according to Steve until they left the country, they talked once or twice a day. That doesn’t sound like someone out to hurt him.”

She let out a shuddering sigh. Because Jonathan was right, that didn’t sound like someone trying to use Steve. “I know.”

Jonathan patted on her shoulder and then went into his room, probably to call Nancy. Another person like his mom who worried Steve was being taken advantage of. But even if he was, that was a lesson he was going to have to learn the hard way.

On his own.

Will had long since left to go hang out with Mike while Ellie and Steve made friendship bracelets. He made four. A black, red, and dark grey one for Eddie, a red, a brown, and a light grey one for Robin and two yellow, white, and black ones. So he could one each to Eddie and Robin.

“Those are really pretty, Steve,” Ellie congratulated him. “Those are some interesting color choices.” Spoken as though she was silently judging, but too polite to say so.

He blushed and held up the first one. “This is for my special friend, they are his favorite colors.” Then he held up the second. “And this is for Robin. The colors remind me of a female robin and the last two represent who I am now.”

Ellie blinked for a moment as she took in the information. “I can see that now. Thank you for explaining it to me.”

“I get my thread at Melvand’s,” she said serenely, “if you wanted to continue to make more, that’s where you would go to get your own.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, Ellie.”

He didn’t stay much longer than that, now that both of the other boys were gone, Joyce was keeping too close an eye on him with Ellie. He knew it wasn’t the gay thing as she didn’t mind Will being around her. And it wasn’t being a barely legal adult considering she would gladly leave Jonathan to look over her.

Nope.

It was entirely because she didn’t know who Steve’s mysterious benefactor was. And the thought of this unknown, probably male, person might hear about Ellie later? Yeah, that’s where she drew her invisible line.

Which was bullshit, like with Robin’s mom, Eddie wasn’t going to prey on little girls. He was freaking out about Steve might be underage when they met in the club. But it wasn’t like he could tell Joyce that. She might revoke his time with Will and Ellie if she learned he had been underaged drinking that night. The night Eddie saved him.

Steve went up to his hotel room and flopped face first into his bed. He was tired. Tired of all the questions about finding a job and getting out from under Eddie’s thumb. Like Eddie was financially abusing him or whatever.

He just wanted to bring people to his hotel room and show them all the little things Eddie sent him just because he walked into a gas station and saw something cute he thought he would like. The keychain from Kansas City with his name on it. The bright yellow shirt that said “I don’t take no shit” and had the Iowan state bird of the American goldfinch. That one came with a little note explaining that it was a canary, but the black on the wings reminded Eddie of the deliciously tight black leather pants.

Steve blushed for hours after that one.

He wiggled onto the bed and crawled under the covers without having taken off any of his clothes. Maybe he could hibernate until Eddie got back in America.

~

Steve managed to bury himself under the covers before the porter with the felting sister ripped the blanket off from over his head.

He stared blearily up at the porter. “Martin?” He struggled to sit up, but flopped back down on the pillow in distress. “Just leave me alone.”

“It’s Marty actually,” the porter huffed. “The only people that call me Martin are my boss and my mom. You’re not either.”

“Marty, I just want to go back to sleep.”

Marty pulled the rest of the blankets and yanked Steve off the bed. He went with a startled yelp. He leapt to his feet to fight him, but he saw that Bob and Rosa were standing by his bed with looks of concern on their faces.

“I have the shower running,” Bob said, “you will get in there and at least clean off the sweat you reek of. Then Rosa will change the sheets. Marty will bring up some food while you are showering, then the three of us are staging an intervention, because this isn’t like you!”

Steve opened his mouth to refute that statement, probably something about how no one called the whole time he as sulking.

Bob pulled out a stack of messages. “I have thirteen messages, and that’s only because the answering machine is full.”

Steve looked behind him and sure enough the machine was blinking complete with a full tape.

“Oh.”

He meekly went and did as he was told. He was only going to do a perfunctory wipe down because they were waiting for him, but once he got under the water it felt so good that he began to thoroughly scrub himself down. Normally going without a shower for a couple of days really didn’t do much, but because he had barely moved to pee, he was covered in thin layer of sweat.

He washed his hair and got out of the shower. He dried himself off and put on the long robe Eddie had gotten him. He opened the door and was instantly hit with enticing aroma of chicken noodle soup. He moved out of the bathroom to the main room, lured by the scent of real food.

The sofa was full of the hotel employees so he grabbed his bowl of soup and spoon and sat down on the armchair curled up as small as he could make himself.

“You frightened us, mi corazón,” Rosa huffed. “You weren’t answering your phone, you weren’t ordering food. The only way we could tell you moved at all is that occasionally the cup in the bathroom would be wet or you would be on the other side of the bed.”

Bob nodded. “We were told to look after you, money was no object. That’s what we were told, but you turned out to be kind and generous and frankly better than ninety percent of the patrons here. You treat us like we’re human, so it became our pleasure to serve you. So when you weren’t opening your door to anyone or answering your calls, we knew something was wrong.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered into his bowl. “I just got so tired of everyone trying to find out who is bankrolling my life style and telling me to get a job that I just didn’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“It’s none of their business,” Rosa huffed. “They’re just jealous that they don’t have this life. I know your papa wants to hurt and all this for you protection, but it seems to me your friends just see the money you...” she snapped her fingers. “What’s the word?”

“I’d use ‘splash around’,” Steve said with a shrug.

“Ehhh,” she knew it wasn’t the word she was looking for but it would have to do. “They see the good. Not the bad. They see new car, but they weren’t there to see you give up your old car. They see the fancy hobbies, but they don’t see your big room and no one to fill it with.”

“She’s right,” Marty said. “I don’t think even the girl that comes with your gifts from Eddie Munson quite understands the crippling loneliness and isolation you have to be feeling right now.”

Steve sniffled into his soup. “Thanks, guys. I don’t know how to impress upon them how dangerous this all is for me. Like the only ones that remotely understand are the Hendersons and that’s because my dad showed up on their doorstep. But even then I don’t think Dustin quite grasps the enormity of it all, but then he’s thirteen so...”

“The only reason your father hasn’t penetrated hotel security,” Bob said with a grimace, “is that the owner, Dr. Sam Owens hates business men like your father. Otherwise, his hold over this town would have extended to here, no doubt about that.”

“So this is what’s going to happen,” Marty said, “if you need to sneak out and just go for a drive to get out of your head, call Bob and he’ll arrange it. If you need someone to talk to ring up Rose or myself. We’re here for you. We understand that Mr. Munson is out of the country right now and it makes it harder, but we’ve got you, okay?”

Steve nodded and said weakly, “Okay!”

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt

9- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

10- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts

[mokie-bleh]

Um, can I have part 4, please? and the art to it, I have an idea for this drawing while they're all fighting there, then child y/n thought: "So okay, I think it's time for me to run away" When a little boy runs away, I turn the fight and even Shadow Milk Cookies are after the child. and when the boy thinks that he broke away from them by wiping his forehead. "Fuuh... Is it supposed to be like this in the story? And why did everyone become so weird? So okay, I won't talk about it, we need to look for a way home."as soon as the boy was about to go further, Pure Vanilla Cookie and Shadow Mill Cookie surrounded him from two sides and told him: "are you going far?" And they began to tickle him for making him worry especially Pure Vanilla Cookies. And the rest are looking elsewhere. (how do you like the idea of art? I thought it would be nice to have a good night! ^^)😅

CRK self aware x Child! reader

part 1, 2, 3, 4

!PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP!

Some time has passed and you weren’t exactly paying attention but somehow Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk were arguing with each other, and you could tell Shadow Milk wasn’t taking it seriously at all. You were just standing there but then you thought of something else you could do while they were distracted. You decided to see if you could find your own way home and went out into the forest. You roamed for a while and saw some pretty interesting stuff but nothing that could possibly get you home but you were a determine little child so you kept going.  

It wasn’t until almost an hour later they both realized you were gone. Pure Vanilla called out for you but he didn’t get a response. They looked at each other and started running towards the forest in a quick attempt to find you. They looked for you and went deeper into the forest. Shadow Milk Cookie could sense your presence unfortunately he couldn’t pinpoint where you were. “That ignorant kid don’t they realize how dangerous this forest is…” He was kinda mad but he cared about you so of course he was panicking. On the other hand Pure Vanilla was freaking out. How could he lose you again? To him he was the ignorant one for not keeping an eye on you.

Then they heard a scream just a bit further down the forest…That had to be you…

While you were exploring you didn’t realize the group of spores following you. You had an uneasy feeling that something was behind you, but you were too scared to turn around and face what it was. You build up the courage to turn around and see what it was and you pretty much regret no running then and there. You stood there like a deer in headlights just staring at the group of creatures. That’s when you screamed out of fear, and you saw the creatures go back a bit then slowly made their way to you. In shock you took a step back and kept doing so until your back went against a tree. You covered your face and brace yourself for whatever they were about to do to you.

You heard a crash and you flinched bracing yourself for impact but nothing happened to you. You slowly uncovered your eyes and saw that the creatures were nowhere to be seen. You gave out a sigh of relief and then you heard someone cough. You quickly looked to where you heard it and saw Shadow Milk Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie staring at you. “What do you think you’re doing?” Pure Vanilla asked you. You started sweating and got nervous. You wanted to say something but you stumbled with your words.

Before you could actually say something you got tackled to the grown by Shadow Milk Cookie. Not Hard enough to hurt you but enough to make you fall onto the patches of grass. He started tickling your sides or anywhere to make you start laughing and squirming. You screamed and kicked yelling at him to stop but that was hard to do since you kept interrupting yourself by laughing. This went on for a couple of seconds until you were tuckered out by laughing too much. Pure Vanilla kneeled down and giggled a little bit at your state. “That’s what you get for making us worry.” 

 

[superums]

monkey d. luffy's 5 love languages

gender neutral readers. fluff. improper grammar. no uses of (y/n) or (name). established relationship. strawhat-coded reader. i tried to lean into luffys childlike personality without infantilizing him... tell me how good i did that please. is meant for opla!luffy but it can go for anime!luffy as-well. spoiler free

color coded text: luffy

physical touch: luffy is very touchy feely. he likes wrapping his entire body around you like a wet noodle just because he can and you're going to have to deal with that!! he loves giving you cheek kisses or small bites on your fingers, shoulders and chest but in a non-sexual way! he loves holding your hand and swinging it back and forth. he thinks is super fun and he'll do it really hard sometimes and make his arm loose shape and flail around in the wind.

acts of service: you could ask him to get a star out of the sky he'd do it!!! he'd do little things like get things off of shelves, grab something from your room or giving you a piggyback across an island but he'd literally do anything you ask him to without a second thought..well maybe be sides share his food, he'd have to think about it foe a second and then give you a piece. but fr he's big on helping you though, he likes doing things for you. and if you ever asked him why he dose he wanna help he'd be like 'because you need help' which translates to 'because i like being with you'.

quality time: you two spend alot of time together not only because you live on a boat together (with the crew ofc) but he also seeks you out when he's bored. downtime on the ship is v common because it can take weeks to get from point A to point B and thats where you come in. sometimes he takes you to the figure head and makes you tell him stories or talk about your thoughts. other times you just sit on the deck and sunbathe while he holds your hand it all depends really.

giving/receiving gifts: it doesn't take alot to impress him he's like a baby—easy to please! you could give him a fish & he'd wiggle it around before yelling at asking sanji to cook it for him. his gifts however are usually one of two things either— 1) it takes trials and tribulations to get or 2) it comes of as simple to someone from the outside looking in but it means alot to him no in between! like lets you say you want a apple he'd somehow fight a congregation of alligators to bring back 1 apple then he'd ask for a bite. ORRRRR he gifts you something like a drawing of you that looks rushed and childish with gears around it but it took him an hour—you watched him as he would go back and forth between looking at you foe a minute and scribbling and erasing on his paper. some might make fun of him for that but you of all people know that it means a lot to him that you have!

words of affirmation: he talks about you like you hung the moon and stars you could be a marine, a civilian, someone on his crew it doesn't matter. he'd tell everyone how he feels about you regardless if you're there or not. he never misses a moment to talk about you highly though his vocabulary is a little limited so he doesn't say things like "you're extravagant" or "i admire you." when he compliments you he says things like "you're so fun." and "i like you so much." again his words are surface level to those who don't know him but he really does think highly of you even if his words don't exactly reflect it but actions are louder than words anyway.

[hyunjinsbelovedamericano]

Skz when their partner can't sleep

i couldn't sleep when i thought of this so

i can't sleep~

teeth rotting fluff,not proof read yet

Bangchan

He probably wouldn't be able to sleep either,and most of stays sleep schedules are wrecked so he would do a live with you.He would go on Channie's room and do whatever.Comments like"Why aren't you guys asleep?","Go back to bed" would fly through."I don't know what you guys are talking about,its 1 in the afternoon.You know time zones?"but stay know thats its 2 am where you are so your attempt on manipulating them failed

Minho

You guys would rate children's drawings,yk those tiktoks where the teacher rates their students drawings.Thats you guys but you're not teachers."Who is that supposed to be?" "Barney","Then why does it look like grimace if took he meth".You guys would probably receive noise complaints for how loud you'll be laughing,but they would laugh just as loud if they saw these drawings

Changbin

Watch rip-off movies,have you guys seen that video where benoftheweek was watching rip-off movies.Yes.Instead Ratatouille your watching ratatoing,instead of the bee movie you're watching plan b."This animation is giving me nightmares","This is torture".Changbin couldn't stop laughing at the names of the movies,"Who wrote this"he would be in tears

Hyunjin

This one is more wholesome than the previous,i feel like he would read poems to you,even better read HIS poems to you,they would be the cutest things ever😭😭,i think he would also make you some tea,massage your head whilst reading the poems.(I need a fanfic on this NOW),he would have such a soothing voice reading them and then scream in your ear(jk...maybe),he wants you to get your 8 hours even though that might mean that he can't

Han

He would eat midnight snacks with you,even though it's not midnight he'll still have snacks.You would try new foods,"This taste likes bbamba's foot","How do you know how his foot taste like?","..." ,you would go late night shopping at those 24/7 stores,han would be scared if its 3am,"why are you so scared","have you not seen those do not watch at 3am videos?"You would just laugh at him,he's such a child

Felix

As we know Felix,is a tiktok king.He would post tiktoks with you,you would explore so many trends and do almost all of them.You would also have a debate why the tiktoks should go on his account or your account,"I deserve this tiktok","No i do".You would do funny tiktoks,dance tiktoks etc.a lot of them would go in the drafts and you would also have a debate on which you should post,"I look like a rat in this tiktok.","Exactly"

Seungmin

This is also one of the wholesome ones,I feel like he would sing you to sleep.His soft gentle voice singing you melodies AHDSUDGDEIURRH that's too cute 😭,he would try to calm you down make you tired because who doesn't want to sleep.Especially with his vocals the song could be rock and he would somehow make it sound soft,he would sing your favourite songs and if you don't say a skz song he would add one in there

Jeongin

He would do skincare with you,you have a bunch of products so it would be quite time consuming."What does this do?","Something".You would take pictures with face masks on because it's a vibe.You would also go online shopping for more products,"Buy the rose jelly one ","No" he would add it to your cart when your not looking,when it arrives and you ask him about he would pretend not to know anything about it

[inmyheaddd]

✦ we’d still worship this love - averyjameson

warnings: kissing, jameson wants avery sooooo bad, avery wants him just as much wc: 717 a/n: averyjameson how i’ve missed you!! also… listen to false god when reading this, u will not regret it 😇 masterlist

“you’ll lose that game of yours. this is a bad idea, jameson.” avery whispered against his lips, feeling him smile at the words. 

the only thing her body was registering was him— gone was the candle she lit earlier as she was getting ready, still flickering on the desk and lighting the room orange, gone were the guests downstairs that were here for her birthday. the only thing that seemed to not be gone was jameson.

“those are what i’m known for, princess.” he mumbled right back, his thumb drawing circles on her jaw that he held in his hand.

earlier that day, after max had claimed they “couldn’t keep their paws off eachother for more than an hour,” they made a bet: who would break first and kiss the other.

jameson was a betting man if anything, and avery? well, she loved to win, and she loved to tease jameson. 

2 in 1? sign her up. 

avery scoffed in amusement, “princess?” that was new, but despite herself, a smile stretched across her lips. 

jameson’s brow quirked up, leaning back slightly so he could eye the tiara placed delicately on her head— one from 17th century england, nonetheless.

“am i wrong?” he challenged, a slow grin on his lips.

avery scoffed once again, “shut up,” she shook her head, before taking off the tiara and placing it on the desk carefully. 

and miraculously by some force, she took down her updo held together by 3 pins on the first try. 

her brown hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves, and she watched jamesons eyes follow her hair, before they came back to her eyes.

“you seem to have no plans of going back downstairs, then?”

he was right, but he didn’t have to know that. she tilted her head, faux frowning a little. “what makes you say that?” 

“updo when you walked in the room with me, hair down when you come back?” he shrugged, that smirk only widening as he made his point. 

“i doubt there’d be much guessing on what happened, no?” 

her eyebrow rose, knowing this dance all too well, “and what are you suggesting will happen, that people would be guessing on, jameson?”

his eyes flickered between avery’s, and at her lips for a split second, before back to her eyes that he loved so much. 

“answering a question with another question,” he murmured, “how very hawthorne of you.”

her heart still raced at his proximity as she looked up at him, but she wouldn’t show it. 

she didn’t take her gaze off of his. not for a single second. “i’m not a hawthorne.”

his eyes narrowed — almost in amusement maybe, as he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. 

he only smiled.

she could sense there were a million thoughts running behind those green eyes of his— she always could.

he didn’t say any of them.

instead, he took the tiniest step back, exhaling as running a hand over his mouth, letting out a low chuckle. “you’re going to be the death of me.” 

“what?” she asked, feigning innocence and willing herself not to show any signs of being flustered.

“just kiss me already,” he sighed, retaking that step he took, “i’m begging you.” 

she was surprised she didn’t jump at the words, but she maintained her composure somehow. “begging?” she teased, “that’s new for you, jameson.”

“you’ll get used to it.” he inched closer, placing his hand under her chin and tilting her head up. “please, you’re killing me.”

she smiled, rolling her eyes in fake annoyance like the act would cost her, “i’m not forgetting the rules, jamie. i kiss you, and you win.” she rose her eyebrows, eyes flickering to his lips. “go ahead and kiss me yourself.”

he grinned dangerously, he really thought he would’ve gotten away with that. “fair game, heiress.” he said, before finally pressing his lips to hers. 

‘avery 1, jameson 0’ avery thought as she moved her lips against his, her hands traveling up to tug on his hair. 

as he pulled back just enough to see her eyes sparkle at him, he spoke against her lips once again like he could read her thoughts. 

“i lost the game.” he murmured with a teasing smile, “you win. you always do, heiress.” 

taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @taysbrina

@littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou

@emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23

@imaseabear @soleilars @clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe

@lanterns-and-daydreams 

[multifandom--mess]

Hannigram Fic Recs! pt.3

part 1 | part 2

here's some fic recs for youuu (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ definitely took me way too long to add a part 3 to this but whatever, enjoy a variety of fics in no particular order that i've read the last few months that deserve to be shared and enjoyed ♡

old-fashioned divinity candy [series, ongoing]

Explicit, 115k+ | the relationship between old money, med student hannibal lecter and his newly rich sugar daddy, will graham

Like a Lucid Dream

Explicit, 75k | In the days following Will's fateful fall from the bluff, Molly Graham begins to understand the extent of her ignorance regarding Hannibal and Will's relationship. The discovery of her husband's deceit leads her to seek refuge and escape in their cottage in the mountains. There's only one problem: she's not the only one who is looking for a place to hide.

you swallow my heart and flee (but i want it back now)

Explicit, 65k | After they killed Francis Dolarhyde, Will was certain he pulled Hannibal off the cliff with him, but when he wakes up, he’s still on the edge of the bluff, surrounded by FBI agents and paramedics. It’s apparent Hannibal got away safely, and Will is put on the job to help find him. When Will finds Hannibal’s journal in his old cell, filled with entries about, and drawings of, himself, he sneaks it into the waistband of his pants and takes it home. It forces Will into dealing with his own feelings, and figuring out what he wants. Will can only hope the journal gives him the answers he seeks.

And the Winter Sheds His Grief in Snow

Mature, 4.5k | On a car ride, Will spots something... abnormal. And it somehow breaks the normality of their relationship, in ways neither of them expected.

According to Winston

Mature, 7.9k | Winston this, Winston that — everyone in Will Graham’s life is now privy to his new stray, the lucky seven of his pack of dogs. It comes as a surprise when Winston isn’t what anyone expected, and this new light sets a backdrop to Hannibal’s carefully manipulated plans to make Will into his full and whole self.

Mundane Madness

Explicit, 104k | After a traumatizing experience, Will decides that maybe he deserves a shot at a normal, healthy life. It just might be nice to have Hannibal at his side too.

Leviathan

Mature, 24k | Three years after they fell into the Atlantic, Hannibal and Will have made a new life for themselves in the sun-soaked Douro Valley. But old hurts and unaddressed fears lurk beneath the idyllic pretense, threatening to consume all semblance of peace.

Between Black and White: Crimson

Explicit, 9.6k | After surviving the fall and undergoing a proper treatment, Will and Hannibal moved to a place from the past to start their future together. Till death knocked at their door...again.

Suffer A Sea Change

Mature, 29k | Hannibal meets Will, a fisherman with something oceanic lingering behind his eyes, one stormy summer in coastal France.

Omnipotence Paradox

General Audiences, 14k | The trap springs too quickly in Florence. Will and Hannibal adapt.

There's Something So Lonesome About You

Explicit, 90k | When will Graham is released from the BSHCI, he realizes that there is little left for him with the FBI. He packs up the essentials (and Winston, of course), and leaves. Hannibal has to deal with the sudden loss of Will, and he is not very happy about it.

Leila Isabella

Mature, 11k | Will has been utterly miserable in the long months since Hannibal turned himself in, but he gave Hannibal an unexpected gift in the last hours before everything fell apart.

Hidden Place

Not Rated, 5.5k | Two years after the fall, Will and Hannibal share a heated evening in Cuba.

More Myself Than I Am

Explicit, 9k | Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to. It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

In the Darkest Recess

Mature, 12.7k | As a child, Hannibal has problems making friends. A therapist gives him a doll to practice social skills on. Hannibal calls him Will, and quickly becomes obsessed with his new best friend. He never leaves it, even when he begins to hear Will's voice in his head, promising that he will never leave Hannibal, as long as Hannibal is willing to give him 'life to live'. Great love, after all, requires great sacrifice.

[bchan95]

Tension Pt. 2

Part 1

I turned my head to look over my shoulder and met his furrowed brows. I plaster a smile across my face and roll my eyes at him.

“He’s literally just being nice, you don’t need to get all “overprotective older brother Channie” right now… plus, that sweet girl looks so bored in the corner now.”

I met her eyes from across the bar. She was trying to be nonchalant about the way she was looking over at our table, but I could feel her stare burning every few seconds. I took another sip from my glass and returned my attention to the table.

That’s when he grips my shoulder. Squeezing it two times before sitting down in the chair next to me. I hated when he got like this. All aggressive and moody. It immediately brought the vibe of the table down. I shot a pleading look toward Yuna, hoping somehow she could break the ice.

“So Chan, who is this girl?” Yuna asked. You could tell from her tone that she could have cared less about that answer, her eyes widening with fake amusement before they met mine again.

Chan chuckled, taking a sip of his drink before responding. “Her name is Momo, and I just met her on the dance floor here. Nothing serious.”

I could feel him looking at me but I couldn’t bear looking back at him. I knew that my eyes would have given away that I was upset, and then he’d ask why and I’d have to lie. Again.

“Y/N,” Felix said softly, changing the subject “You should really ask that bartender for his number… he’s fit.”

I heard Chan sigh and pick up his glass again. I looked at Felix with a soft smile and rolled my eyes. I busied my hands by playing the puddle of condensation under my glass. I swished the cold liquid up and down the table as I thought of a proper response.

The truth? He was fit. I would be interested. If there wasn’t someone I was preoccupied with. Someone who didn’t even know he was standing in the way. I shook my head, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“He is pretty cute, but I’m not interested in talking to anyone tonight. I just want to be with you guys.”

Felix’s smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered with a soft knowing glance as he raised his glass to the middle of the table. Everyone followed suit in cheers, “happy birthdays” echoing across the group. After the celebratory sip, Yuna leaned over to whisper into Felix’s ear. Felix nodded, rapidly texting on his phone. Moments later, Lia’s phone lit up and she glanced at it with a slight smirk. Suddenly they all were rising from the table.

“We just want to get some air,” Felix said, smiling right at me. “We’ll be right back.”

The three scurried out of the room, leaving Chan and I at the table. I want to kill them. The silence in the air was ridiculous. It was never this weird with just the two of us, but I felt like my eyes had to be glued to this glass otherwise I’d combust if a single word came out of my mouth to him.

He touched my arm, drawing my attention to him. His deep brown eyes widened in this weirdly sentimental fashion. I tilted my head as I gazed at him. What changed in the last half hour? Where was the bold man with the gold rings and confident touch?

“What?” I giggled out of nerves.

He frowned even more “I feel like I let you down tonight.”

I scrunched my face. He chewed on his bottom lip as he waited for my response. A response I couldn’t find as I recounted everything that happened that night. His grip on my arm tightened a bit and I took a sharp breath in before finally speaking.

“What? How could you let me down?”

Chan shook his head, pulling his chair closer to mine. I could smell the honey on that whisky now. The sweetness of the smell mixed with the emotions swimming in his eyes almost had me reaching out to kiss him. I felt reckless when he was like this. Focused on me.

“I ditched you for a girl… again,” He sighed, his eyes widening even more. “Forgive me?”

I smirked at him, rolling my eyes. “Chan, I am not your mom… you don’t have to apologize for flirting.”

He fully frowned then, letting go of me. The sudden release brought a sudden chill to my forearm. I watched as he took another sip of his alcohol before speaking again. The way that glass raised to his plush lips.

No. Y/N. I shook my head, removing those intrusive thoughts from my brain. When his eyes met mine again was a little less heavy and he let himself softly smile.

“Are you okay Chan, you’re so quiet it’s making me nervous…” I say with a giggle, even though I was the farthest from joking.

I’ve known Chan for a long time. I know how easily he can shut down. When we were younger, far before either of us went to therapy, we would have explosive arguments about stupid things that would lead to weeks and weeks of silence on both of our ends. Fights over not having time for each other, for moving away, for forgetting birthdays and countless other reasons.

They’d always have to be solved by one of us caving and riding our bikes over to the other’s house with sour gummies in hand to apologize.

It had been a long time since Chan iced me out like that, and I wasn’t about to have it happen again. I tentatively placed my hand on his knee. This motion jolted him to attention, his eyes landing on mine again with rose-dusted cheeks.

“Seriously, what’s up?”

Chan looked at me again for a moment before sighing. He moved his chair even closer to mine. My heart slightly raced at the closeness but you stopped that daydream as soon as it started. His eyes darted, never focusing on one of the features of my face for too long. I felt my face heating up too. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“You… you’re really not into the bartender.”

I could have screamed. He wasn’t talking to me and was dragging out this whole silent treatment because of that bartender I talked to for 30 seconds? I opened my mouth to protest his ask when he spoke again, a bit softer.

“Because… I kind of don’t want you to be.”

That response glued my mouth shut in shock. What did he mean by that? It couldn’t possibly be what I think it is. I bite down on my lower lip, waiting for him to continue to speak but he stops there, looking at me with those round dark eyes. His hands moved to my knees.

“Chan, I told you that you don’t need to worry about me…”

“I’m not worried…. I’m…” he stops for a moment and takes a deep breath. His finger taps against my skin. “I’m jealous?”

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for my reaction. My cheeks grow warmer. He makes it so easy for my delusion to spiral. He’s been with another girl all night and he’s jealous of me giggling with a bartender? I wanted to spill my drink all over him and walk out. But I maintained composure, giggling softly.

“Mr. ladies man who has been dancing with a gorgeous girl all night is jealous of his bestie having a 2-second conversation with a stranger?” I teased, scrunching my nose at him as he rolled his eyes.

“I know it’s stupid,” He says as his hands draw random designs on my legs. “I just haven’t seen you act like that with someone before… so confident and giggly and… it made me feel some type of way.”

I raised an eyebrow “Yeah? Would you like to share this type of way with the class?”

He laughed for real that time, meeting my eyes with that lazy smile that I loved so much. The one that caused my heart to feel tight and warm like it was burning alive. He nodded at me before opening his mouth again.

“Like I wanted to wring his neck,” I scoff, causing him to smile wider. “I’m serious, I am the only one who should make you smile like that.”

I shook my head “You goof, you’re my best friend, you make me smile all the time.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?”

He stood as we spat back and forth. My eyes rose to meet his towering figure. He shook his head, walking closer and caging me in with my back against the table. My heart was thumping so loud I was sure he’d hear it.

“Best friend.”

I leaned my head to the side “Are you not my best friend?”

He laughed loudly, his hand coming down to touch my cheek. I was sure I was sunburnt at this point. The heat of his touch was too much for me to really understand right now.

“I am… but I’m also…” He leaned down toward my face, breath feathering my skin with a cool breeze. “I also kind of want to do this.”

“Chan, I-“ My sentence was cut off by his lips on mine. He moved slowly, savoring every push and pull of our lips as he pecked them repeatedly.

As we pulled away, I pushed his chest away from me. I stared at him in confusion. He looked back at me with the same sort of blank look, hands in his pockets. None of us said anything for a moment. I looked over to the left and the girl who had been there the whole night was gone. I looked back up at him again and his eyes were still on me. Unmoving.

[cod-thoughts]

Day 12 of 31 days of COD

Word count: 2.1k

Relationships: team as family

Tags: protective 141, protective ghost, 3+1

Three time's Ghost was protective over his teammates and the time they returned the favour. Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

1.

Contrary to popular belief, Soap had always been a smooth talker, but this time, even he was pushing the limits of his charm. The team had made contact with a local militia leader to negotiate safe passage through contested territory, but something about the man’s body language set Ghost on edge. They stood in the middle of a makeshift encampment, surrounded by armed guards, while Soap exchanged words with the leader.

Soap, all confidence, leaned in with a grin. "Come on, mate, let's not make this harder than it has to be. We just need to pass through. No need for trouble."

The militia leader scowled, clearly not interested in making things easy. His hand hovered a little too close to his holster for Ghost’s liking. Ghost stood a few steps behind Soap, barely moving, but his presence was impossible to ignore. Tall, imposing, clad in black with his skull mask in place, Ghost was a living embodiment of menace.

Soap subtly nudged back into Ghost’s space, brushing an elbow against Ghost’s arm—light, but enough to remind him to stay calm. "Simon," Soap whispered under his breath, his voice carrying an edge of humour despite the tension. "Easy, big guy. I’ve got this."

Ghost didn’t respond, his eyes locked on the leader. He took a half-step forward, the movement subtle yet palpable. The air thickened as Ghost’s towering presence somehow grew more ominous. The guards shifted uncomfortably, hands twitching towards their weapons, but they didn’t dare draw. Even the militia leader faltered, his gaze darting from Soap to Ghost, clearly calculating the risk.

"You make a move," Ghost growled lowly, "and you’ll regret it."

Soap chuckled softly, clearly amused by the tension, though he didn’t outwardly acknowledge it. He finished the conversation with a handshake and a promise of no further trouble. As they walked away, Soap turned to Ghost, still grinning like a man who had been in control the whole time.

"Wasn’t necessary, mate," Soap said, reaching out to give Ghost a playful punch to the arm, lingering just long enough for Ghost to feel the weight behind it. "But I can’t say I don’t appreciate having my own personal bodyguard. Scary dog privileges, eh?"

Ghost huffed, the hint of something like fondness flickering in his gaze. "You were pushing it, Johnny."

"Maybe," Soap winked, bumping his shoulder lightly against Ghost’s side, "but I knew you’d have my back."

Ghost’s gloved hand briefly clapped Soap’s shoulder as they walked, the rare contact reassuring without a word. It was quick, a fleeting gesture, but it carried the unspoken promise: I’m always watching your back.

2.

Ghost’s protectiveness over Gaz wasn’t limited to battlefield scenarios. Sometimes, it extended to everyday things, like now, in the middle of a tactical planning room where the younger sergeant had been working for hours without a break.

Gaz had papers spread out across the table, his laptop open with several encrypted tabs flickering with data. His eyes were red from staring at the screen, and he'd been bouncing his knee for the past hour, a sign of his rising stress levels. Ghost, who had been silently observing from a corner, finally stepped in, making his way over to Gaz’s side.

"Gaz," Ghost’s voice rumbled from behind him, startling him slightly. A large hand landed heavily on Gaz’s shoulder, grounding him instantly. "Take a break."

"I’m fine, Ghost," Gaz said quickly, barely glancing up. "Just gotta finish this."

Ghost’s shadow loomed over him as he stepped closer, his grip tightening just slightly on Gaz’s shoulder before releasing it, his voice lowering into that commanding tone he used when he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. "Take. A. Break."

Gaz blinked and finally looked up, only to be met with Ghost’s unflinching stare. His fingers brushed against the keyboard hesitantly, but the weight of Ghost’s presence left no room for argument. With a resigned sigh, Gaz leaned back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes.

"Fine, fine," he muttered, stretching out his arms with a groan. Ghost’s hand dropped from his shoulder, a momentary touch, but it lingered in the atmosphere. "Happy now?"

Without a word, Ghost stepped forward and closed the laptop, pushing it just out of Gaz’s reach. He then set a bottle of water and an energy bar on the table, his silent way of saying he wasn’t budging until Gaz took care of himself.

Gaz couldn’t help but smirk. "You’re like a mother hen sometimes, you know that?"

Ghost placed both hands on the back of Gaz’s chair, his hulking figure still looming. "Say it again, and I’ll break your laptop," Ghost said flatly, though the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the lack of real threat.

Gaz chuckled as he opened the energy bar, shaking his head. "Right, right. I know you’re just looking out for me."

"Someone’s got to," Ghost muttered, his hand brushing the back of Gaz’s chair one more time before he moved off, satisfied that Gaz was taking his much-needed break.

Gaz leaned back, the weight of Ghost’s protectiveness settling around him. There weren’t many people who had Simon Riley watching their back—especially when they didn’t even realise they needed it.

3.

Price had been injured during a mission, a bullet graze along his side that wasn’t serious, but it was enough to force him into a few days of rest. He hated every minute of it, preferring to be anywhere but in the infirmary with nothing but paperwork to keep him busy. Ghost, however, seemed to take Price’s injury far more seriously than he did.

"Simon, for the last time, I’m fine," Price grumbled as Ghost entered the room again, checking the perimeter as if expecting an enemy ambush to come crashing through the hospital walls.

Ghost didn’t respond. He walked over to Price’s bedside, standing tall, arms crossed. His eyes were fixed on Price, that unreadable expression back in place. As much as Price liked to protest, the scrutiny was comforting in its own way.

"I don’t need a bloody bodyguard," Price muttered, though his tone held a hint of amusement. "Go on, get some fresh air. You’ve been breathing down my neck for hours."

"You’ve got stitches," Ghost pointed out, his voice gruff but strangely soft as he reached down to adjust the blanket over Price’s side. His hand lingered for just a moment, firm and careful, before pulling away.

"And they’ll heal," Price said, smirking as he watched Ghost’s movements. "Just like every other time."

Ghost’s posture didn’t relax, not even a little. "You need to rest."

Price’s smirk widened, one eyebrow arching upwards as his lips twitched. "You’re hovering, Simon."

"You got shot," Ghost said, his voice low and tense, arms still crossed, as though he was trying to contain his worry.

Price couldn’t help but chuckle. "Protective, aren’t you? But you know, I’ve been doing this a long time. I don’t need you babysitting me."

"Not babysitting," Ghost grunted. "Just making sure you don’t do something stupid. You’ve got a habit of that."

With a deep sigh, Price leaned back in his bed, one hand reaching up to pat Ghost’s arm—a rare moment of physicality between them. "You’re a stubborn bastard, you know that? Can’t stand to let anyone else take care of you, but the moment I’ve got a scratch, you’re all over me like a bloody mother hen."

Ghost’s silence stretched for a beat, but the slight shift in his posture gave him away. Price smirked knowingly, his eyes softening. "Admit it, Simon. You’re worried."

Ghost didn’t respond, but there was the slightest movement—a shift in the way he stood, closer now, within arm’s reach. The captain chuckled again, shaking his head.

"Alright, alright," Price muttered, patting Ghost’s arm again. "I’ll rest. But only because you’re making that face."

+1

The team was off duty for once, and they'd decided to hit a local bar to blow off steam. It was a rare moment where they could relax without the weight of a mission hanging over their heads. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost sat around a table near the back, the dim lighting casting long shadows over their faces. Ghost, in particular, had kept his mask on, as he usually did in public spaces.

The night had been going well—drinks, jokes, stories shared about old missions—but Ghost had been unusually quiet, even for him. His body language had shifted ever so slightly, and the rest of the team noticed.

It didn’t take long to spot the source of his discomfort.

A drunk, overly persistent stranger had approached their table earlier, eyeing Ghost with a mix of curiosity and something a little darker. The guy had been hanging around for too long, asking questions that got more invasive with every passing minute. He clearly wasn’t taking the hint that Ghost didn’t want to talk, and the situation

 was getting under his skin.

Ghost was used to intimidation tactics in combat, but social situations like this? They didn’t sit right with him, and the team knew it.

Price leaned back, his eyes narrowing as he observed the situation unfold. Soap, catching on quickly, had already started to bristle, his foot tapping against Ghost’s boot under the table—a subtle signal of his readiness to intervene.

"You alright, Simon?" Soap asked, his voice calm but laced with concern. His knee brushed against Ghost’s leg, grounding him.

Ghost’s only response was a tight nod, his posture stiff. He hadn’t said much since the guy had wandered over, and it was clear now that he was uncomfortable. His eyes flicked toward the exit for a second, but the guy had blocked him in, practically standing over him now.

"Hey, mate, I’m just asking a question," the stranger slurred, leaning a little too close to Ghost for anyone’s comfort. "You military or somethin’? What’s with the mask? You think you’re tough or something, huh?"

Ghost didn’t even look at the man. His shoulders were tense, hands clenched into fists on the table. Soap’s hand slipped briefly to Ghost’s forearm under the table—a silent gesture of reassurance. It was taking all of Ghost’s control not to react, but the team could see he was seconds away from snapping.

Price exchanged a glance with Soap, and that was all it took. They didn’t need to say anything—Gaz had already shifted in his seat, casually moving closer to the stranger, his posture nonchalant but his intent clear.

"Oi," Soap called out, his voice sharp enough to cut through the noise of the bar. He gave the stranger a hard, piercing look. "You might wanna back off. Now."

The man blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in the atmosphere. "What? I’m just talkin’ to your friend here."

"Doesn’t look like he wants to talk to you," Gaz added, his tone light but carrying an unmistakable edge. He shifted closer, his arm brushing Ghost’s, providing silent support. "Why don’t you move along?"

Price, ever the leader, stood up slowly, his sheer presence enough to draw the guy’s attention. "This conversation’s over," Price said in that low, commanding tone he reserved for situations like this. "Get lost, before you regret it."

The stranger hesitated for a moment, his bravado faltering under the weight of three men who clearly weren’t messing around. He glanced at Ghost again, as if considering his options, but then thought better of it. He muttered something under his breath before stumbling away, disappearing into the crowd.

As soon as the guy was gone, Ghost exhaled slowly, his body relaxing ever so slightly. He hadn’t even realised how tense he’d been until the weight of the situation lifted. It wasn’t the threat of violence that had bothered him—it was the invasion of his personal space, the way the guy had made him feel trapped.

"Thanks," Ghost muttered, his voice gruff but sincere.

Soap clapped him on the shoulder, his hand lingering a moment longer than usual. "What, you thought we’d let some idiot bother you? Not a chance, mate. We’ve got your back, same as you’ve always got ours."

Gaz leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, looking smug. "Scary dog privileges go both ways, you know."

Price smirked as he sat back down, his hand resting briefly on Ghost’s back as he passed him, making sure he was alright. "We look out for each other, Simon. You’re no exception."

Ghost didn’t say much, but there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes, something soft and unspoken as he glanced around at his team. He’d spent years protecting them—fiercely, relentlessly—and now, in this moment, they had returned the favour.

Soap leaned in closer, his arm brushing Ghost’s as he grinned teasingly. "Besides, you’re ours. No one gets to mess with you except us."

Ghost huffed, the closest thing to a laugh he’d give in public, but there was a warmth in his chest that hadn’t been there before. As much as he hated feeling vulnerable, there was something comforting in knowing that they had his back, even when it wasn’t about missions or enemies.

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, ultimatum

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Summary: it's time for you and clint to face the music. and each other.

Warnings: angst, fluff.

Word Count: 2,718

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Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Sixty-Four Days

Early afternoon sunlight urged your eyelids to part, and you woke reluctantly, cocooned comfortably in the sheets. Your body ached pleasantly as you stirred, and heat rose in your cheeks as the night before came back to you. Squeezing your thighs together briefly, you finally opened your eyes properly. The warmth in your face increased as your gaze focused on the expanse of Clint’s thigh, the tanned skin only interrupted by the dark cotton of his boxer briefs.

He was sitting up against the headboard, his chest still bare, his hand wrapped around the coffee cup balanced on the thigh closest to you. The scent of it teased at your sleep-addled senses, and you groaned softly. His gaze had been fixed blankly across the room, a furrow between his brows, but at your stirring he turned his attention towards you.

“You’re awake.”

“Looks that way,” you mumbled, your voice rough from the night before.

It was so worn after what you’d done only hours ago, and the memory of your eyes rolling back as Clint’s mouth had found the side of your neck made butterflies rise in your stomach. His mouth on your throat had meant that he’d felt your moan build before it even escaped you, and his teeth had grazed over your pulse point. Even then, the sound had been hoarse, torn and desperate as his hands had tightened on your waist and his cock had filled you again.

You cleared your throat in an attempt to both improve your voice and draw your own attention back from what you’d done the night before. “…And you’re still here.”

You regretted the words as soon as you said them, but a self-deprecating smirk touched Clint’s lips. “Yeah.”

Face still tucked against the pillow, you nodded towards the mug in his hand. “Is there any more of that?”

“Behind you.”

You rubbed at your eye, holding the sheet against your chest as you rolled over to find another mug sitting on the bedside table. Smiling, you pushed yourself up as you picked it up, leaning on your elbow as you turned back to him and took a grateful sip.

And immediately grimaced. “It’s cold.”

“Yep,” he replied simply, taking your cup and setting both his and yours on the table on his side of the bed. “But it was a nice gesture about half an hour ago.”

You breathed a quiet laugh through your nose, playing with the edge of the blanket as you lay back against the pillows again. Somehow, despite his attention being in his lap, the light of day had you feeling much more exposed than before. “So, uh… how long exactly have you been awake?”

Clint shrugged a shoulder noncommittedly. His hair was still mussed – from sleep and the way you’d carded your fingers through it – and you swallowed as you noticed the red lines marking his shoulders and arms. “A while.”

“Clint.” you said guardedly. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Hmm? Yeah.” he nodded distractedly. His tone sounded light but you could hear the way he forced it. His hand moved towards you for a moment as though he was about to touch yours reassuringly, but it returned to his lap. Clint’s voice dropped further, and the tired note in his tone had nothing to do with how much sleep he’d missed. “Yeah. ‘Course I did.”

You sighed heavily at his tone, sitting up and turning your back to him. “Right.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not doing this again, Clint.” you said, shaking your head and turning your eyes to the ceiling. “I can’t do this again.”

“I…” Clint pushed himself up straighter against the headboard, his brow furrowed as he searched for a response.

You pressed your lips together, closing your eyes as you forced back the nerves climbing in your chest. Your tone turned gentle but firm. “I know what you’re going through, Barton. I know it’s something I… that I can’t even pretend to understand. And while I’m here for you, I really, truly am… I can’t do this.”

You picked up the first shirt within reach – his – and pulled it over your head before turning around to face him. The worn, thin cotton did next to nothing to build your confidence, but it was easier to get the words out while not completely naked. Still, you felt goosebumps rise on your exposed skin as you met his eye.

God, you’d left a hickey on the side of his neck.

“I can’t be doing… this—” you gestured to the mess of sheets between you. “—with someone when they’re not here with me.”

There was something unreadable in his eyes. “I am—”

“You’re not, though.” you said, resigned. “You’re really not.���

He stopped, swallowing as his eyes fell towards the mattress. When you’d turned to face him, you’d leaned on your hand, your fingers curled in the sheets a few inches from his own. Maybe you saw his hand move forward… maybe… but you stood, stepping back away from the bed before his hand could make contact with yours.

You met his eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip. His shirt barely brushed against your thighs, a scare inch or so of thin fabric protecting your modesty. You really should have waited to have this conversation until after you’d put on pants. “Yeah, maybe you stayed this time, but… did you really want to?”

Clint’s gaze remained on his hand, and you sighed, rounding the bed towards the bathroom.

“I did.”

You stopped mid-step, folding your arms around your middle.

“I…” Clint exhaled. “I wanted to… I want…”

You heard him shift on the mattress, and you turned around as he swung his legs off the side of it. He ran a hand through his hair, fingers fisting in at the nape of his neck for a moment before his hand fell back to his lap.

“I felt… I feel guilty. Being with you.” he explained, his voice quiet. He waved a hand back towards the sheets. “Being with you like this. It’s like I’m… betraying Laura.”

“Clint…” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the rest of the sentence.

She’s gone.

“I know,” he said, swallowing thickly. You watched his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “I know she’s… but it’s not just that it feels like cheating, it’s…” he met your eye again, and you almost broke in your resolve. “When I’m with you… when I’m close to you, I… I don’t feel so bad.”

“And that’s…?”

“It’s wrong, Y/N.” he sighed, his gaze falling again. Like looking at you was… tempting? Painful? “And I can’t feel that way. I can’t forget them like that.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled slowly before moving towards him again. Kneeling in front of him, you forced him to meet your eye again You wanted to touch his cheek, but you felt your hand shake. Instead, you reached out to where his hands were clasped tightly together in his lap, covering them both with your palm.

“I understand, Clint.” you said softly. “I do. But I can’t keep doing this if all it is is a moment of weakness for you. I can’t be something you regret.”

“…Are you leaving?”

You shook your head, withdrawing your hand. “No. I’m not leaving. But I’m taking this – what we did, what we’ve been doing – off the table. I’m putting distance back between us. No more blurred lines – it’s confusing for both of us. If you can find a way for you to…” you stood, taking a step back. “Until you can let yourself feel whatever you’re feeling for me without… I’ll keep my distance, okay?”

There was a long moment between you as your words sunk in, but finally, Clint nodded.

“Okay.” you forced a small smile onto your face. “I’m going… I need a shower. Don’t disappear, okay?”

He nodded again, and you could feel his eyes on you as you finally retreated to the safety of the adjacent room.

As soon as the door was closed, you leaned back against it, closing your eyes. This was the right decision. It was. But a very loud part of you was screaming at you to turn around and tell him that you were taking it back.

The mirror hung on the wall opposite you, and your gaze lingered on the litany of evidence of your night together. The mussed hair, the light pattern of bruises on the side of your neck that continued down beneath his shirt. His shirt…

“Fuck…” you muttered to yourself, pulling it off and tossing it aside. Your eyes caught the mark he’d left on the swell of your left breast and you turned away, slamming the handle for hot water as far as it would go.

This was the right decision.

Right?

***

The tension in the apartment was heavy when you’d finally pulled yourself away from the shower’s scalding spray, but Clint had mercifully vacated your bedroom by the time you’d come back out. You’d tried to pull on the first clothes you could find, wincing as the burn on your back pulled against your skin. You should have asked Clint to re-dress it, but apparently, you’d used up all your confidence before you’d showered. So, instead you’d spent twenty minutes haphazardly taping a new patch of gauze over the burn with your back to the mirror and found a tank top that was cut low enough the back to not snag any of the tape you might not have reached to push down against your skin.

You’d tried to ignore the clothes still scattered across the carpet in your room, ignore the scent of sex still clinging to the mess of sheets. You stripped them from the mattress, tossing them into the corner and sat down, taking a shuddering breath.

Well… fuck.

You’d given him an ultimatum.

Just how quickly was it going to come around and bite you in the ass?

You’d left the apartment with the claim that you needed to pick up more supplies; Clint had nodded, his back to you as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Okay.”

That had been four hours ago, and all you had to show for your time gone was a paltry bag of medical supplies and a couple of sandwiches from a nearby gas station. Sighing heavily, you unlocked the door, the hooks of expectation digging deeper into your flesh as you were suddenly sure that you’d find him gone.

Again.

The apartment was much in the same state in which you’d left it, and you felt something in you release as you saw Clint’s gear still propped up near the kitchen counter. Your shoulders loosened, and you ran a hand through your hair. He was still here.

You barely made it a few more steps before a noise suddenly came from behind the wood of his bedroom door; the muffled sound of something shattering and a pained groan. The bag fell from your fingertips immediately, and you summoned a sphere of psychokinetic energy to burn against the palm of your hand.

“Clint?”

Your voice came too softly, and you cleared your throat as you approached his door, the energy in your hand swelling to the size of a baseball.

“Clint?”

“Y/N…” the response was quiet and strained, a low groan, and anxiety sunk its talons further between your ribs. Sparks danced down over your wrist, your other hand clutching the door handle and pushing it slowly open.

The room was dim, curtains drawn against what was left of the early evening light; your eyes adjusted quickly, and you released the energy with a sigh despite the worry still knitting your brow. Clint was in bed, sheets tangled around his legs and a lamp broken on the hardwood floor beside him, a casualty from the bedside table.

He whimpered, turning in his sleep, his brow furrowed and his hand fisting in the sheet. Frowning, you hurried to his side, reaching out to touch his shoulder as he rolled towards you.

“Clin—”

You broke off suddenly as Clint’s eyes snapped open, his hand grabbing your outstretched arm by the wrist in a painfully tight grip. His other hand moved so quickly you barely saw it, a knife clutched in his fist. You reacted in the same moment, a shield expanding in front of your chest just before the tip of the blade could meet your throat.

Clint blinked, the remnants of sleep slowly clearing from his eyes. The two of you stayed frozen in that tableau, the blue light of your shield casting shadows over the two of you as though you were suspended in water. The archer swallowed heavily, his grip on your wrist easing incrementally.

“Clint?” you repeated softly, twisting your wrist in his hand to touch gentle fingers to his arm. The sensation seemed to bring him back to the surface, drag himself out of where ever his mind had taken him, and you reduced the shield as the knife was lowered back to the mattress. “You with me?”

He nodded slowly, finally releasing your wrist. A dull ache thrummed through it, but you ignored it, kneeling beside the bed and reaching out to carefully ease the knife out of his hand. He let you, his fingers warm against your own before you set the blade on the bedside table.

“You were dreaming,” you explained softly, watching him run a hand through his hair, propping himself up on his other arm. “I didn’t… I didn’t know you were still having dreams like that.”

“Yeah…” he muttered; his voice rough. “It’s easier to keep them to myself when we’re not sharing a Winnebago.”

You frowned, hesitating a moment before reaching up to smooth your hand over his cheek. Clint’s eyes closed briefly at the touch. His hand moved upward, as though to cover yours, but it retreated, curling in the sheets.

“What can I do?”

Clint shook his head, pulling away from your touch. “’m fine.”

“I’m starting to think we should get that tattooed on our foreheads,” you muttered to yourself, noticing the corner of Clint’s lips twitch into a momentary smile. It was tiny, then it was gone. “How much sleep did you actually get last night, Clint?”

He cleared his throat, rubbing his hand over his bare chest. “I don’t know… a couple of hours, maybe.”

You frowned, studying his face, the shadows under his eyes.

“Move over.”

His expression unreadable, Clint did as you asked, pushing himself back on the mattress to make space for you. You straightened, toeing off your boots and shrugging off your jacket before lowering yourself onto the mattress beside him. The bedframe creaked softly under the new weight, and Clint watched you with a kind of careful curiosity as you tried to find a position to settle in.

You finally came to rest stretched out on your side beside him, your face pressed against the pillow. You tried to ignore the way the bed smelled of him. Clint didn’t need to ask what you intended, but he hesitated before moving to mirror your position. He watched your expression with those clever eyes for a long, weighted moment before he moved, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. Warmth rose in your cheeks as he settled his head against your chest, his arm moving down to instead wind around your thighs, banding just below the curve of your backside. His fingers curled against the small of your back. You wrapped an arm around him, trying not to let your mind linger on the warmth of his skin beneath your hand.

“Doesn’t this… what we’re doing right now…” Clint began quietly, as though unwilling to continue the sentence. The warmth of his breath tickled against the base of your throat. “…Doesn’t this violate the whole ‘distance’ rule you put in this morning?”

Your other hand rose to run fingers through his hair carefully, fingertips grazing the nape of his neck. He sighed under your touch. “Will this help you?”

He nodded; his face still buried against your chest. “Yeah… Yeah, it will.”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to close your eyes and relax. “Then it’s okay.”

.

.

.

tags:@trekkingaroundasgard@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@lol-you-thought@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies@youralphawolf72@maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky@melaclintbartoncorner@loki-is-loved@whovianayesha@bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics@ace-fandom-dumbass@kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa@earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86@darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93@darkwhisperswolf

AN: I know I'm a heartless bitch, but I promise they're not done with each other yet.

[darkenedreaper]

The Pain of Patronus [3]

Pairing: Professor Severus Snape x Female!Professor Reader

Warnings: Mentions of deaths, bloody description

Summary: After finding Snape after Nagini's attack, you go to great extents to get him help. When he recovers, you've changed. And to find more information Dumbledore makes a decision, one you're unhappy with.

A/N: I changed the story plot because Deathly Hallows traumatised me. Enjoy.

Part 1 Part 2

"Where is she?", the voice of the love of your life finally spoke. You didn't have much time to treasure his voice as Albus spoke, "You'll see her soon Severus".

You stood outside the hospital wing that occupied the few people. You knew what Albus was about to do. He was about to show Snape and the others your happiest and worst memories in order to find any missing information. You hated the idea, and you didn't hide your opinion from Dumbledore when he discussed it with you. He tried to soothe you with his reasoning and his fatherly figure, but he knew you'd stand your ground. You watched with shaky and fast breath from around the corner as Dumbledore was now holding an object that had the appearance of a crystal ball. Harry, Hagrid, McGonagall and even Snapes eyes glistened and glittered as Albus whispered a spell, slowly levitating the crystal ball that held you worst moments. It lifted itself up into the air and popped like a giant bubble, it was like the movie began. Minerva had told Severus what he'd be seeing and hearing, the attack on him committed by Nagini. He tried to shake it off, tried to shake off the nerves and the tears that were building up inside of him as he realised he's been forced to sit and watch your most painful moments. You watched the ball with a careful eye and when it burst you shut your eyes tight.

-memories-

You and the young boy were sat by water, making daffodil chains... well daffodil chains with old, dead, and withered daffodil heads and stems. You spoke quietly to the young boy, "You'll stay with me forever won't you?", "Always", Severus replied with a smalls smile on his face. As soon as you made the chains you decided to fly them over to one another. From afar another young girls eyes with ginger hair saw the face that belonged to the boy with the black hair and eyes. She decided to skip over to the Severus and... and the girl next to him. Whilst you and Severus were still messing with the ones you had both made, your attention and his was yanked away when the girl shouted his name whilst skipping up the hill to him. You watched the interaction between Lily and Severus; he handed her an old and dead daffodil chain he took back from you, and she gave him a bright and colourful daisy chain, she even put it around his wrist.

----

It was a few months later now and somehow Severus and Lily had grown even closer, and so had Lily and James. It was wrong and you knew it was. She was either leading one or both of them on or playing a cruel game with Severus just so James would bully him even more. You were sat opposite Severus and Lily, well you were sat next to him but she asked if she could have your seat. You couldn't say no to her she was too polite, and he was infatuated with her. So you sat opposite the wo students with your head resting on a closed fist as you mindlessly flicked through a book 'revising'. It wasn't long before you were left in the library by yourself as Lily had offered Severus to view the stars outside, to which he accepted her offer, didn't give you a second thought, and left. The memory showed you, a teenager, sat on the library table now after hours with an open book and staring off into space.

----

It was drawing to the end of the year, you and Severus hadn't spoken for weeks. You assumed he learnt his lesson with Lily as her and James walked Hogwarts grounds holding hands. You had gotten so lonely and withdrawn from your classes, eating, even reality; that Mr Filch and even Mrs Norris began to feel pity for you. As everyone was leaving Hogwarts for the final time as a student you wished to see Severus, and you did. Just the back of him. As he walked further and further away from you until you couldn't see him anymore.

----

You'd been working at Hogwarts for a few years now and Dumbledore had ordered you to become a Deatheater, for his own benefit. You soon discovered that Voldemort was going after Lily and James Potter, and you knew you had to do something. If Lily died it would kill Severus, even if they didn't talk for all of this time. So you were standing with Albus in your younger years of teaching begging him but not before he asked, "Why do you need the protection of Lily Potter so badly?", you ignored him and said, "Albus please, I beg you, hide them. Hide them all. Keep them safe I beg of you", to which he replied; "And what will you give to me in return Y/n?". "Anything", you quickly replied. You agreed to spend your life serving Albus and Hogwarts whilst being tied to Voldemort as a Deatheater. Snape and yourself had no idea you practically had the same double-sided job. Even at the Dark Lords meetings, you never once spoke, took your mask off. You never even moved. You found out the boys parents had been killed and that Severus found out and wept at the news, and of course at the sight he walked into at Godrics Hollow; you forced Dumbledore to tell you. "You promised me you would keep her safe!" "You came to the wrong person to give protection Y/n, I'm sorry". Of course during that difficult time period, you and Snape somehow grew further apart got more miserable and moody, and more vicious with the comments at one another.

----

Things at Hogwarts were getting tense, Potter was having more trouble with his sleeping, his visions and head pains of Voldemort, Hogwarts was being attacked by Demontors for what seemed like every 5 minutes.

----

You speedily walked to corner and question Albus. You had just finished a spell on Dumbledores hand that would keep the physical sight and damage of the spell hidden, but not for long. "How long do you think it will hold off?", he asked. "Not long, a year a least". You said with finality before dropping his hand and moving to walk away, "Don't ignore me Y/n". You halted, waiting to see what he wanted to say. "We both know Lord Voldemort has ordered Severus to murder me. But should he fail... I should presume the Dark Lord will turn to you. You must be the one to kill me Y/n". The memories showed your view of Dumbledore falling to his death. You slowly hung your head and shut your eyes, you didn't show or express any emotion hut inside you were crumbling, you were shutting down, the thought of killing Albus with everything else going on; it seemed impossible. "It is the only way. Only then will the Dark Lord trust you completely". You sighed and opened your eyes again letting him continue. "There will come a time when Harry Potter must be told something, but you must wait until Lord Voldemort is at his most vulnerable". You lifted your head up when you heard the boys name and because of the history you were immediately concerned for his safety and so you replied, "Must be told what?" Albus took a deep breath and started to move closer to you, "On the night Lord Voldemort went to Godrics Hollow to kill Harry, and Lily Potter cast herself between them... the curse re-bounded. When that happened, a part of Voldemort's soul latched itself onto the only living thing it could find... Harry himself"> Dumbledore stalked his way closer to you, "There's a reason Harry can speak with snakes, there's a reason he can look into Lord Voldemorts mind. A part of Voldemort lives inside him". You had braced yourself now and straightened yourself up, "So when the time comes, the boy must die?" You questioned with severity, "Yes. Yes. He must die", Dumbledore replied with his head down.

--

The memory was now showing Albus, Minerva, Harry, Hagrid and Snape the moment you fell to the nearest wall, where your emotions came crashing down, as Snape lying in the hospital bed, saw himself lying half dead against the Boating House glass with blood spattered all over it. He saw your breakdown as you were rushing over to him and he felt himself welling up.

--

The memories now took them back to the office where you were clearly displeased, angry and upset at Dumbledore. You were concerned for Harrys safety and Severus' wellbeing, "You've kept him alive so that he can die at the proper moment?... You've been raising him like a pig for slaughter." You voiced, strongly with anger clear. Albus quickly turned his head to you, seemingly shocked as you despised the boy, "Don't tell me now, that you've grown to care for the boy?". Your face dropped and you knew you had to spill your secret. In quick motion you took out your wand and cast a pratronum, "Expecto Patronum...". From your wand, a raven that had beautiful markings glided softly and eloquently throughout Dumbledores office, you both tracked it"

--

As they were watching the memory, Snape was crying, the tears were rolling down his cheeks and he didn't once bother to wipe them. Harry was upset, Hagrid and Dumbledore had their heads down. Minerva was wiping her nose until she made a noise and pointed at the memory. Your Patronum flew out of the memory and flew around the hospital wing and as it got nearer to the window it flew around Severus' head before flying out. He shut his eyes tight for a second, fully aware that your Patronus was his. He was the thing you love most.

--

As the raven finished its gliding around the room, Albus turned to you, shocked and he turned to completely face you as everything seemed to click in his head, "Severus". The memory suddenly flashed to you holding Severus' lifeless body with his cloak securely wrapped around him to keep him warm. The blood off the both of you was washed away by the torrential rain and your cries and screams were drowned out by the thunder. Back in the office, you put your head down as the tears began to roll down your cheeks. "After all this time?", he questioned and the pity and guilt was evident in his voice. "Always", you replied strongly.

--

Severus was silently sobbing, he put his hand over his eyes, not wanting anyone to see him cry. His tears had fell down his neck and wet the bandages that sat around his neck, covering the healing wounds from the snake. His arm brushed the bandages and he was instantly remined of the pain he went through, the pain you went through. He was reminded of how soothed and at ease he felt when you came to his rescue, when you stared into each others eyes, in the Boating House and each time at the dinner hall table. He finally knew the truth, he saw it. You risked your life every day to save Harry Potter because he was Lilys son, and you knew how much Lily meant to Snape. There was guilt, remorse, sadness, love, and anger at himself tingling throughout his still weak body. He knew what he had to do. And he told himself he was going to do it. Even if he had to crawl on his belly to the ends of the earth... he promised himself he would see you, and tell you how much he loved you, how you were his world, his everything.

Part 4 coming soon

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt 4

Hiiiiiiiii! Sorry this took a minute, It's midterm season and I just adopted a new cat because I can. It's been busy. Hope you enjoy :p

Word count: 4.7k

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

Lae’zel tilts her head, eyes closed, as she listens to the distant shouting. You open your mouth to ask her what’s happening, but even with her eyes closed she somehow senses what you’re about to say and holds up a hand, silencing you.

Patience has never been a virtue of yours.

You bite your tongue and bounce on the balls of your feet while you wait. A glance at Astarion reveals a similar image. His head is inclined in the same direction as Lae’zel’s, his eyes unfocused. It seems that you and Gale are the only two with inferior hearing. He at least seems much less frustrated by that fact. You watch as he draws some sort of glyph in the dirt with the toe of his boot.

In his defense, after the day you’ve all had, some shouting isn’t all that alarming compared to abduction and mind flayer parasitization. 

Still, you can hear the differences in the voices even if you can’t quite discern what they’re saying. There are at least half a dozen people not far off from you, people who might be able to point you in the direction of a healer.

“We were right,” says Astarion after a pause that felt as if it spanned centuries, “There is a civilization up ahead.”

“Not for much longer,” Lae’zel drones in a bored voice.

“What?” You ask at the same time a horn sounds somewhere in the distance, followed by a rallied war cry.

“Goblins,” Astarion mutters.

Because why not?

You bite down on your bottom lip until you taste blood, weighing your options.

If a band of goblins takes whatever camp they’re attacking they’ll kill the only people you’ve managed to find after an entire day of walking. Your days are numbered now, and you don’t have many left. There doesn’t seem to be a choice to make. You turn to start down the path leading to all the noise when Astarion catches your arm.

“Wait.”

You try to pull out of his grasp but his grip only tightens. 

“What?” You snap.

“Why do we have to play hero for every sad soul we come across? This will make what, the fourth life or death altercation of the day?”

“Those people will die without our help!”

“People die everyday! Your inability to accept that fact is going to get us all killed alongside them.”

You rip your knife from its sheath and flip it up, holding the blade an inch from his throat. A normal person would have let you go and backed away from the weapon aimed at their jugular. Astarion only raises an eyebrow in a silent dare. Not the response you expected, but it is nice to see him on the receiving end of a knife to the throat for a change.

Lae’zel, who seemed to be regarding your disagreement with a cool disinterest, perks up at the sight of a weapon drawn. She unsheathes a blade of her own and begins cleaning her nails with it, watching you and Astarion with a sort of wicked approval. 

Gale, who appears to be the most reasonable one of the group, takes a step back. He eyes you both warily, but you get the impression that he's mildly satisfied to see Astarion in the same position he himself was in just a few hours earlier, a weapon aimed at his head. 

As a group you are rather dysfunctional.

“Those people currently being slaughtered may know something about the tadpoles in our heads, or at the very least may be able to point us to the creche. We’ve been wandering the wilds for hours. We have days before these parasites rip us apart. If you want to leave the best chance we have stranded to be murdered by a pack of goblins, be my guest, but I’m not taking that chance. Let. Me. Go.”

Astarion’s eyes narrow, but he drops your arm.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Tav.”

“I hate to agree with him” Gale chimes in, “But it seems rather reckless to jump into battle without a plan.”

Lae’zel flashes the men a feral smile, gleeful at the prospect of bloodshed.

“The plan is to eliminate the goblin scourge. If that is too complicated for you, remain here until we return” She drawls 

She turns and stalks away, following the sounds of screeching goblins and howling wolves.

Astarion tilts his head back and sighs deeply as you follow her, muttering something under his breath.

Still, as you pass him you feel him silently fall into step behind you. Gale reluctantly trudges along, lamenting about how much he misses his library.

The noise of the battle grows louder with every step. Swords clang and wolves snarl loud enough to shake the ground under your feet. You break the treeline and find yourself at the narrow entrance to a small clearing in the middle of the dense woods.

To your left is a large rocky hill that overlooks the clearing. To your right, a cliff that connects to a massive wall split by a heavy wooden gate.

You stand in the bottleneck, watching chaos unfold in the field ahead. A horde of goblins- stout little creatures with razor sharp teeth and a bloodlust that probably rivals Astarion’s, are throwing everything they have at a human scouting party. A few tieflings stand on the wall, frantically shouting for back-up and returning fire when they aren’t being pelted with arrows. 

The air is heavy with the smell of blood and smoke.

Astarion takes a deep breath through his nose and hums a low, pleased sound that raises the hairs on the back of your neck.

Lae’zel observes the carnage and laughs, a sound you admittedly didn’t know she was capable of making. 

In a flash her greatsword is in her hands and she’s diving into the fray with all the murderous enthusiasm of a rabid displacer beast. 

She blocks the swing of a bugbear’s club and throws it off balance, but misses her next attack on the creature as it throws itself to the side. She hisses in rage and stalks after it as it scrambles away on its hands and knees.

Her arrival doesn’t go unnoticed, and several goblins turn, redirecting their murderous rage towards your group.

You hear Gale begin muttering the sleep incantation and do your best to provide cover as he chants, launching magic missiles at any creature that comes too close. You do a decent amount of damage, knocking more than one goblin clear off its feet, but they don’t seem to notice the pain. They only seem to get angrier as they charge the humans at the gate. You could use an archer right about now.

Where the hell is Astarion?

You whip your head around, scanning the battlefield, but he has disappeared completely. Disappointment fills you when you realize he’s nowhere to be seen. You didn’t take him for a coward but it’s possible you misjudged him. You don’t have time to dwell on it now. 

A flash of silver catches your eye in your search, and you’re momentarily distracted by a strange newcomer cutting his way through a throng of goblins. He’s not dressed like the other humans, his clothes are dark and well armored as opposed to the brown leather outfits woven with leaves the scouting party are wearing, presumably for camouflage. He’s brandishing a blood soaked rapier, and you can’t tell exactly what from here but you think there’s something off about one of his eyes. 

He laughs as he cuts down a snarling goblin. There’s something so distinctly familiar about him, but now is neither the time nor place to find out what it is.

A goblin whose arm was singed by one of your missiles turns and locks eyes with you, smoke curling up from his burned flesh. The smell has bile rising up from your stomach. It lifts its scimitar above its head and screams a battle cry, sprinting for you with a promise of death in his eyes. 

Time itself seems to slow as you raise a shaking hand. Your power recoils when you reach for it. Your vision swims. The strain sends a spike of pain through your skull. You’ve used all the magic you can. 

The goblin is a few steps from you now. The rusted blade he holds above his head is dripping black blood, and so are the pointed shark-like teeth he bares at you in a snarl.

You suppose this ending is slightly preferable to becoming a mind flayer, though not by much.

You brace yourself as the goblin lunges for you, but a brief flash of light slams into it mid-air, and it drops like a stone at your feet. 

You stare at it in stunned silence for a moment before an unexpected sound rattles its small frame.

Is it… snoring?

You whip your head toward Gale, whose eyes are glowing with pure white light. He nods at you and continues casting, launching magic missiles of his own at one of the goblin’s wolves. 

You take the rescue for what it is and plunge your knife into the sleeping monster. It twitches once, and the snoring stops.

You’re out of spells. You have firebolt as a cantrip, but every time you use it your vision blurs and vertigo wracks your body. You wouldn’t know how to shoot a bow even if you had one. If you want to continue fighting the goblins you’re going to have to get a lot closer.

You leave Gale to his casting on the outskirts of the battle and cut your way towards the center, forgetting that you’re opening yourself up to fire from the archers positioned somewhere on the hill above you.

You realize far too late that you don’t have a shield, but you also notice that somehow the arrows that were previously raining down from the top of the hill have inexplicably halted, and you have a clear path forward. 

You spot Lae’zel, who is battling a bleeding one-armed bugbear and a snarling bare-faced wolf. The wolf lunges for her, and she’s forced to dodge backward toward the bugbear who uses his one remaining hand to slam his metal club into the back of her head. She blinks dazedly and sways on her feet for a moment.

The wolf leans back on its haunches and prepares to lunge for her throat.

You won’t reach her in time. 

You sprint for the creature anyway, fear for your companion fueling you, when an arrow sinks into the wolf's side. It yelps and frantically gnaws at the arrow, attacking the source of its terrible pain, ripping its own flesh in its panic. It provides just enough of a distraction for you to change course and leap onto the back of the bugbear, burying your knife in its throat. It gurgles for a second, choking on blood, and drops to the ground at Lae’zel’s feet. She turns with a shout and beheads the yelping wolf in one swift strike. 

Panting, she turns to you. One of her pupils is blown wide, the other just a slit.

“I didn’t ask for your assistance” She growls.

“You’re welcome” You reply, which earns you an unfocused bleary-eyed glare from the concussed Githyanki.

An agonized scream pierces through the clang of weapons and the crackling fire. You turn just in time to see a human archer a few yards away staring down with horrified eyes at the grinning goblin who’s scimitar is buried in her stomach.

Fuck.

You change directions and lunge for the girl, hurling a firebolt at the goblin’s head in the process. It screeches, dropping the scimitar to swipe at the flames engulfing it's pointed face. Vertigo almost takes you to the ground, but you manage to clumsily catch the girl as she drops to her knees, her skin pale and clammy.

She babbles frantically as you lower her slowly to the ground.

“I can’t- please I’m only t-twenty I d-don’t wanna die” 

Her hands are slick with her own blood and they clutch at your shirt as you assess the damage. The only healing spell you know is lesser restoration, and while that may buy her a few seconds of relief from the blood loss, the wound is still open. Even if you did know a healing spell powerful enough to save her, you couldn’t cast it in the state that you're in. You can do nothing to solve the issue of the blade protruding from her belly. 

You apply pressure to the wound. There are only a few goblins left alive, the battle will soon be over, but every second the fight drags on feels like an hour as you hold this girl together with your bare hands.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts,” You try to assure her, your voice shaky.

She swallows dryly and shakes her head.

“It doesn’t”

That can’t be good.

“That’s good. A healer is on their way. You’re going to be al-”

Before the last word can leave your lips something launches into your side, and the breath is knocked from your lungs. Your vision doubles and a formless black blob sways above you. You blink a few times and your eyes clear. The goblin you lit on fire smiles at you as best it can with the skin of its face crisped black and melting off. Your eyes shift sluggishly to the dagger raised above its head, just in time to watch it fall. You hear the wet squelch of the dagger ripping through the flesh of your shoulder. 

It doesn’t hurt at first, it almost feels as though your arm has fallen asleep. A riot of pins and needles shoots down all the way to your fingertips and back up again. Then comes the explosion of pain so intense your body jerks under the goblin that still sits on top of you. It cackles as you tense in a silent scream, twisting the blade until your vision darkens around the edges.

It happens so suddenly you almost miss it. One moment the goblin is twisting the blade and laughing, the next it’s gurgling and choking on the arrow protruding from its throat. You reach up with your uninjured arm and yank the arrow free of the creature’s neck, watching the life fade from its yellow eyes as it pitches to the side and slides off you, leaving the dagger buried in your shoulder.

Your gaze snaps up to the top of the hill, where you see Astarion, his bow raised, eyes trained on the dead goblin that fell to your side. At his feet, two more goblins lie dead with their throats slit, their bows still clutched in their hands. 

That’s the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

~

You fall through an endless black void. The wind rushing past your ears and whispering over your skin is the only indication you’re moving at all. The darkness is so potent you genuinely can’t tell if your eyes are open or closed.

You spread your limbs out as far as you can, hoping to feel something, anything, but you’re falling through open air.

Oh. You’re closer than I thought you were. I wasn’t expecting you so early.

A voice that is not your own bounces around inside your skull. 

There’s a blinding flash of light, your eyes were open after all, and reality shifts. You don’t land but suddenly you aren’t falling either, you’re standing on a rocky island floating in an endless purple sky. In your cursory glance you find a shadowy figure sitting on the edge of the island, legs kicking over the vacuum of empty space below them.

You freeze, unsure where you are or how you got there.

“Come,” Says the same voice you heard in your head moments ago, “Sit with me. There is much to discuss.”

The voice is soothing, gentle, and you take a step forward.

~

With a crack you're suddenly yanked from the dream world and back into your body. You find yourself still sprawled on your back on the battlefield. There’s a sharp burning sensation in your cheek, and a shadow leaning over you, haloed in sunshine. It looks almost like…

“Astarion?”

The shadow sighs in relief.

“Yes! Thank the gods. This would have been really awkward to explain if you had amnesia.”

“I-” you reach up to rub your stinging cheek and groan when pain lances down your arm. You can’t move it.

“Did you slap me?”

You feel yourself fading away again, consciousness slipping out of your grasp.

The shadow that is actually a rather blurry vampire nods solemnly.

“I did. I’m about to do it again.”

“S’not nice.” You mumble.

“Tav, if you can stay awake for a moment longer I can get us out of here. I need you to look into my eyes. Can you do that for me?”

You aren’t entirely sure, your eyelids are so heavy, but you do try. Slowly, you manage to pry them open enough to meet Astarions eyes. Once your gazes collide, you wonder why you ever thought it was hard to keep your eyes open at all. It would pain you to look away now. His eyes are such a hypnotic shade of red. You think it might be your new favorite color.

“That's it Tav.” His voice is low- enticing. It satisfies something deep within you, and you find yourself holding your breath, hanging onto every word. 

“You aren’t going to sleep anymore. You’re going to stand with me and walk through the gate.”

You’re nodding before he’s even finished speaking.

Vaguely, you know what this is. Vampires, and apparently vampiric spawn, have the ability to compel creatures. Some are better at it than others, and some creatures are harder to compel than others, but you make it easy. You don’t even try to resist, knowing this compulsion might just save your life.

That is until you accept Astarion’s lended hand and stand, looking down to see the glassy, lifeless eyes of the human girl you were trying to save before the goblin stabbed you.

Her arm is stretched toward you, a look of despair frozen on her face, as if she reached out to you in her final moment.

You reach for her, praying to anyone that will listen that she’s not actually dead, when Astarion catches you with an arm around your waist.

“There’s nothing more that you can do for her. Walk.”

Your resolve is weaker than it’s ever been, and the compulsion takes you completely. Your legs move on their own accord. Astarion keeps an arm around your waist and pulls your good arm over his shoulder, bearing the brunt of your weight as you make slow progress toward the gate that everyone is fleeing for. You see Gale and one of the tieflings carrying an unconscious Lae’zel on fabric stretched between two long branches. They place her on the ground just inside the entrance and rush to find a healer.

You stumble inside after them. Every heartbeat triggers a fiery explosion of pain that leaves you gasping. Astarion half-drags you to a wooden stump and sets you down on top of it, his compulsion fading along with the rest of your energy. He crouches in front of you and inspects your shoulder, tsking softly.

“Go'head” You say, your words somewhat slurring together.

His expression turns wary as he motions something over your shoulder.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”

“Say it.” 

He shakes his head in confusion, and you try again, pushing the words out through shallow huffs of air.

“Say ‘I told you so’” 

“Ah” he smiles “As much as I would love to, it’s beneath me to kick a lady while she’s down”

“I’ll show you who’s down.” You attempt to threaten, but when you lean forward a wave of nausea hits you, and you double over, pressing the hand you can move to your mouth as if you can push back the rising bile.

Astarion positions you back upright with a hand on your good shoulder, something resembling concern in his voice as he calls for a healer. It’s becoming very hard to breathe.

You hear someone rush to his side, but you don’t even have enough energy to turn your head to see who it is. 

“Is she ready?” The stranger asks.

“She’ll have to be. She’s losing a lot of blood. I can hear how hard her heart is beating to pump what little she has left.”

He taps your face as you begin to nod off and you open your eyes, unsure of when you closed them.

“This is going to hurt.” Is Astarion’s only warning before he rips the dagger out of your shoulder.

You open your mouth to scream, but someone presses a large bottle full of thick red liquid to your lips and you drink instead, desperate for the relief a health potion will provide. You grimace both at the metallic taste of the potion and at the itchy sensation of your muscles knitting themselves back together. The wound closes and the pain subsides, but your shoulder still tingles savagely with pins and needles.

Some of your energy returns to you, and you glance up at the stranger that gave you the potion. The dwarven druid returns your nod of thanks with one of her own before turning her attention to an unconscious Lae’zel, who you notice was moved to a cot sometime between when you stumbled through the gate and now. You peel your bloodstained shirt off your shoulder and see for the first time the angry red scar that remains despite the magic of the healing tonic. You cringe and pull your shirt back over it. 

When you look over at Astarion, he is staring at the bloody dagger he pulled from your shoulder with an intensity that unnerves you.

“Astarion?” 

He startles as he’s pulled out of his thoughts and drops the dagger on the ground at your feet. He bares his teeth in an expression you think was meant to be a smile, but doesn’t quite make it past a grimace. He stands fluidly, and you scan him from head to toe for injuries. He doesn’t seem to have a scratch on him. 

Relief and annoyance battle it out in your head as you follow suit, standing on shaky legs.

“Thank-”

He turns and glares so angrily you shut your mouth with an audible click.

“I don’t want your thanks. We had a deal, Hero, all I did was hold up my end.”

You remember the deal you made with the vampire.

You watch my back, and I’ll watch yours.

Interesting.

“I don’t think I like that nickname” You frown.

“Oh? I can think of a few more you might like better.” He winks, and your eyes widen in genuine fear as you imagine what he could possibly mean by that.

“No no, hero is good- great even.”

Astarion chuckles in sadistic delight and ushers you further inside the grove toward Gale, who you see also looks mostly unharmed other than a gash above his eyebrow. Upon closer inspection however, you see the same bone deep fatigue you feel mirrored in his eyes. Magic takes energy to cast, and the toll exacted on a caster for pushing their limits is merciless.

“Glad to see you’re okay Tav,” He says by way of greeting. He gestures at the older tiefling man he was speaking to when you approached.

“This is Zevlor. He’s offered to allow us to make camp inside the walls of the grove until we recover from the battle.”

The tiefling nods and places a hand over his heart bowing his head at you and Astarion. In your current state, drained of magic as you are, the tadpole seems to have more control than it did before. Your mind is drawn to Astarion’s like metal to a magnet, and when the connection clicks into place, you feel his awkward uncomfortability with Zevlor’s gesture. It seems Astarion is inept at accepting thanks from everyone, not just you. 

“I cannot thank you enough for your assistance out there.” Zevlor begins, “There surely would have been many more casualties if you had not done what you did. Your friend Gale of Waterdeep-”

A pulse of sadistic amusement bridges the gap between yours and Astarion’s mind and you watch his mouth twitch as he suppresses a smile. Gale’s lips press together in thinly veiled annoyance. Zevlor continues on, completely oblivious, “-tells me you’ve been searching for a healer. Our main healer left with the scouting party you saved today and hasn’t returned, but his apprentice Nettie is more than capable of healing most ailments. I’m sure she’d be happy to counsel you in the morning once all the wounded have been tended to. We’ll point your Gith friend your way once she wakes up.”

You nod gratefully and Zevlor is called to help someone else before anything more can be said. The link between your mind and Astarion’s buzzes with energy and he turns to you with a horrified expression as he’s suddenly bombarded by everything you’re feeling. 

“How are you standing up right now?”

“I have no idea. I can’t feel my legs.”

Gale flashes you an alarmed look. He notices your shaking limbs and holds out an arm. You consider his offered help for a moment before shaking your head. You don't want to be a burden to this man you've just met. You'll be fine as long as you can sit down sometime in the very near future. Gale drops his arm but not his concerned expression.

“A healer I am not, but I don’t imagine trembling with every step is a sign of anything good.” He warns

You wave off his concern with a weak smile and continue walking. Astarion and Gale follow, a little too close for your liking, as if they're waiting for your inevitable fall.

Astarion responds to Gale's warning for you.

“If I didn’t pity whoever's waiting for you back home before, Gale of Waterdeep, I do now.”

Gale’s face scrunches in annoyed confusion.

“I don’t have a partner... anymore.”

“I bet I know why.”

"You most definitely do not."

“Would you two shut up for a second?” You hiss.

You're passing a merchant’s table littered with armor, camp supplies, magical artifacts, dyes, and weapons. A crossbow catches your eye, and you remember earlier on the battlefield wishing you had a bow that you knew how to shoot. Maybe none of this would have happened if you had more than a puny knife to fight with. You stop in front of the table. Astarion and Gale nearly crash into the back of you.

“How much?”

You ask the dwarven merchant digging for something in a box behind the table, pointing at the crossbow.

Astarion raises his eyebrows, but says nothing.

The dwarf’s head snaps up and his eyes widen as he takes in your blood-soaked ragged appearance. He sees the pale elf and the human wizard behind you and something clicks.

“I know you. The other druids won’t shut up about you. You saved the grove.” He says with a certain measure of awe.

“Tell ya what. I need to get rid of most of this stuff before the grove gets sealed shut in a few days, and we do kind of owe you our lives. Take whatever you want. On me.”

You feel guilty accepting gifts from this kind stranger, but you are in desperate need of camp supplies. Astarion doesn’t seem to share your hang-up. He begins grabbing things to stuff in his pack. Another dagger, two small hand-held crossbows, Black armor of some sort. Gale peruses the magical scrolls lined up on the other side of the table. You take the crossbow you originally asked about, intending to take it and it alone, when an amulet catches your eye. A simple black metal chain holding a small silver medallion. Ferre procul is engraved neatly along with a rune you vaguely recognize on the pendant. Upon closer inspection you realize it’s emitting a faint silver light. You think it's a magic storing item, one that would grant its wearer the ability to cast misty step. You pocket the amulet, and thank the merchant profusely before you follow Astarion and Gale toward your new camp. You nearly weep with joy at the sight of a fire already made, and the bedrolls laid out around it. You don’t even spare a glance at your companions. You toss your bag to the ground and collapse onto the nearest bedroll. Sleep claims you before your head hits the pillow.

----

Tag tiiiiiime.

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Okay I think that's it. Lemme know if I missed ya.