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777heavengirl · 6 months ago

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the one with the unpacking

sirius black x f!reader ! - 2,526 words warnings: angst, father is vaguely threatening masterlist bags masterlist a/n: this is like my fourth time reposting this shit TUMBLR WHY. my posts aren’t showing up on the tags im afraid o might’ve been shadow banned???

Sirius remembers the first time he packed his bags by himself. Of course, his entire life had been under the begrudging hands of Kreacher, his room tidy, his trunk packed neatly and to perfection. Every year like clockwork, he never had to pack or unpack, half the time he didn't have to carry his trunk either. And at Hogwarts… well he hated to say it but he didn’t unpack or pack anything either. Half the year he just pulled straight out of his trunk until he ran out of clothes, and then magically (bless those house elves) they’d be clean and dry, neatly folded on the corner of his bed where he would basically just run through the same process as before. By the end of term, all of his belongings would be safely locked in his trunk again.

But he remembers.

Like it was yesterday, the night he packed his first trunk, by himself, by hand. Sirius Black at sixteen was everything but organized and neat, so packing everything he owned, everything he loved, into a trunk to leave and never turn back had proved to be a daunting task. It does not matter how much time has passed, he will always vividly remember the dread at the pit of his tummy.

He remembers the folding and the refolding, nothing quite fitting, or everything fitting except for one item or two, it should not be this hard- it’s just like doing a puzzle he thought. Yet the answer on how to fit everything evaded him for hours.

It was the first time in his life he had to learn how to fold clothes in the most efficient way possible, it was the first time he realized how much he actually owned.

It was the first time in his life he could not leave anything back because he could just get it later- there was no going back.

There was no return.

So he learned to pack, on the spot— painstakingly and with lots of force. He had to sit on his trunk just to close it, and he still had to fill about another bag worth of stuff.

He often thinks about what he left behind, the things that just couldn’t quite fit, what he had to sacrifice. He tries not to think of Regulus.

He thinks of the posters on the walls and the photos he left behind.

He thinks of the bracelet his cousin Andromeda gave him when he turned eleven, a sliver of white gold that fit snugly on his wrist no matter how much he grew. He knows exactly where he left it too.

Yet- He thinks of his brother again.

He left him there too.

He thinks of Regulus, alone in that dark cold house.

Sirius Black knew how to pack his bags now. He did it himself every year living with the Potters, he and James packed their suitcases together every August, ready to leave for Hogwarts again. Not that the Potters didn’t have house elves, Euphemia just ran a tight ship with the two rowdy boys.

Sirius eventually learned how to consolidate, how to not leave every remnant of himself in the room he inhabited at the fear of having to pack everything up again, at the fear of leaving something behind.

Sirius stared at his trunk. He wasn’t sixteen anymore, somehow, in the rush of it all he had forgotten to actually move on with his life.

It had been two years of living together, and he had never properly unpacked.

Sure, there were traces of himself in his room, it was inevitable. But you were right.

It was like he had one foot out the door the whole time.

So for the first time in his life, he unpacked.

Properly, carefully.

With intention.

He didn’t use magic, no, this was something he felt like he had to do with his own hands no matter how tiring it was. So he did, he hung and folded and tucked away until the last sock. He hung more pictures on his walls, he unraveled himself across his room until everything was out of his trunk.

He stared at the empty bag when he finished. He could remember the last time he saw the bottom of it like it was yesterday. It was the same day he learned how to pack.

With a flick of his wand, he made the trunk small enough to tuck into a corner of his closet.

There was no need to have it out now.

Your head still spun from the argument with Sirius. The whiplash of pouring every ounce of want and every last drop of need accumulated over the years into each other and then exploding in argument made you feel nauseous.

Nothing much was said after you confronted him about his oh-so-stupid packed bags.

He let go of your hand, and nodded, biting his tongue.

“You should’ve told me- we deal with shit together remember? you’re the one that said that don't be a hypocrite now-”

You didn’t know what to answer.

He disappeared into his room with a scoff.

You rubbed your temples at your desk, it had been a sleepless night after the fight, and a morning without even a peep of Sirius.

“What's wrong sweetie?” The blonde that had a desk parallel to yours put her pencil down, leaning on her hand with a pout. “Are you fighting with your boyfriend again?”

You sighed with a chuckle, for a muggle she was way too perceptive.

“He’s not my boyfriend, although-” she scoffed, you sighed “nevermind-”

“No! Tell me-” she smiled sweetly, she reminded you of Mary a lot. “That’s what we’re here for you know? what else are we going to do all day in this shit hole?”

“Work?” you said, a short laugh leaving your lips as you said it.

She laughed too, pearly white teeth peeking out from behind her glossy lips.

“That’s a good one sweetheart- so come on, spill”

“We kissed yesterday-” you said, and she squealed in her seat, kicking her heel-clad feet “but then my dad called- and it was just… this whole thing and he got angry because he thinks I want to move out but I thought he was the one that wanted to leave this whole time and I-” you took a deep breath, groaning as you leaned back on your chair. “I just don’t know what to do or where we stand anymore Cassie-”

She hummed in response, thinking deeply about your issue. Her short hair bounced in the pinned curls as she nodded with her eyes closed- her expression changed into one with a smile.

“I think you should go home right now-”

“What?” you stared at her, brows furrowed, just about ready to roll your eyes

“I’m serious- I just really think you should go home- like right now” You stared at her dumbly as she spoke, and she smiled “Just trust me- everything will get resolved if you just go home and talk to him… I’ll cover for you- besides, you helped me out by covering like three of my shifts last week-” You nodded slowly, limbs moving to pack your things into your bag.

“Just trust me-” she said with a wink as she bid you goodbye.

A chill ran down your spine.

You were quickly spat out into your room, the small crack and pop of your apparition ringing out softly.

Your door swung open-

“Y/n,” you frowned at your name, Sirius stood at the door- white as a sheet “Your parents popped in for a visit,” Sirius shot you a closed-lip smile— one that didn’t reach his eyes, one that screamed of apology and regret. You hadn’t been able to properly talk and now your parents were home-

Maybe Cassie was a bloody witch-

“Oh,” you moved out of the room, Sirius hot on your trail as the two of you made your way to the kitchen. You stopped dead in your tracks as you took in your parents. Your mom smiled softly, a warm cup of tea between her two hands as she sat on the kitchen stool. Your dad stood stoically next to the counter, arms crossed. You knew immediately, from the mere look in his eyes, he wasn’t happy. “Hi- what are you guys doing here?”

“Just wanted to pop in sweetie,” your mom laughed hollowly, a nervous bite of her lip, and the way she avoided your gaze made you want to leave immediately. “chat a bit…”

“We need to talk, Sirius if you will-” Your dad spoke up, motioning to the door. The boy looked at you, mouth slightly agape as your father borderline kicked him out of his own house.

“Whatever you wanna say to me can be said in front of him-” Your father stared at you, a gaze of vague threats and unhappiness.

“Fine,” you moved next to Sirius, the counter that stood between you and your parents hiding how his fingers quickly found the loop of your pants to anchor the two of you together. you felt a jolt of electricity down your spine at his touch “Your mother has something she wants to tell you-”

Your mom shot him an ugly look, one with disdain and anger as she said through gritted teeth. “Your father thinks-”

“We think- sweetie,”

Your mom turned towards you, “No— your father thinks you should move out soon, he has taken it upon himself to call in some favors and he thinks he can get you this small flat close to home,”

“What?” You stared incredulously at the both of them. You could feel Sirius’s grip tighten, the color draining from his face. “What the actual hell are you talking about? I told you last night-”

“We think it will be what’s best for you- you can start going to the small college that's a bit away, it’ll be good for you” Your father decided to speak up, a smug tone lacing his words. You could feel a knot form in your throat.

“No-”

“you haven’t even given it some thought”

“I am a bloody adult- not some child you can relocate wherever you want” You raised your voice now, anger coursing through you. If you moved out it would be out of your own volition, panic settled in your bones. Even then, you knew you didn't want to.

This apartment was your home.

“I will not let you dictate what I do with my life- matter of fact I’m quitting the damn travel office too-” You could feel Sirius tense up next to you.

Your father’s nose flared briefly, eyebrows twitching as he geared up to argue

“You know what— just get out,” you said

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me- get the fuck out of my house, I’m not- I’m not doing this with you, get out”

Your mom stood up quickly, grabbing your father tightly by his arm “I told you, you should‘ve just shut up,” he quickly shook her off

“You can’t just kick me out what is wrong with you?” He started approaching, heavy steps with an even louder voice reverberating through your small flat.

Something shifted, at that moment. You could feel it in the way that Sirius immediately grabbed your hand closest to his, standing somehow taller, somehow stronger.

For a long time now, you and Sirius had something you could not name, call it instinct, call it a bond. James liked to joke you could read each other’s mind when you looked into the other’s eyes.

It was why you stopped getting paired together in defense against the dark arts, it was the reason why the two of you were very rarely caught in pranks, it was that same reason why you could both feel something instinctive and raw, engrained deep in your bones that made you both pull out your wands before either one of you could think twice about it.

You could feel the hesitation in your father now, for the first time in your life, your father took a step back, faced with something he did not know of nor controlled. And you realized in that moment, that it wasn’t magic itself he hated- it was the fact that it was something he could not control, but you could.

“Oi- get out, you heard her” Sirius spoke up now, his wand was steady, eyes focused. He could feel the adrenaline in his veins, the fear of an angry man in his house again, the need to run or fight or hide.

He stayed still, solid. Because he knew that’s what you needed him to be at that moment.

Your father stayed quiet, turning on his foot to walk out the door.

“Don’t bother coming home-” He walked out before you could retort, dragging your mother with him.

Sirius turned to you, immediately, like every bone in his body had been beginning him to do so the past ten minutes.

“I’m sorry-” he said, breathless

“Stop,” you said between the flow of tears that poured from your eyes, you couldn’t meet his gaze- “it’s not your fault, I’m the one that should be sorry” Your breath shook “I’m so sorry-”

you gripped his hand tighter, your free hand wiping furiously at your face. You felt embarrassed, right to your core. Embarrassed he got dragged into it, embarrassed that you let it get this far.

Embarrassed that your father violated the sacred space you and Sirius had created.

“Hey- Hey, there’s nothing to be sorry about dollface-” he quickly took you into his arms, your head tucked under his chin as he engulfed you. Tight against his body, like trying to put himself between you and the world.

Nothing else mattered right now. “It’s not your fault he’s so dreadful”

“I’m sorry about everything-” you sobbed into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt like he might disappear if you let go. “I-I’m sorry about the job- and the moving out and Merlin- I’m so sorry about him-” you sobbed out, hiccuping and stuttering at every word.

“Don’t apologize my love- please?” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and then your temple, slightly loosening his hold so he could kiss your cheek. “Please don’t— I'm sorry too, I didn't hear you out either”

He could feel his own tears gather in his eyes, his heart beating fast against his chest as you took deep breaths along with him, trying to match your rhythm to his.

“Nothing else matters right now, okay? Just you and me love- I promise” You nodded at his words, and his lips pressed a kiss against your tear-stained cheek once again.

He wondered if he would've ever had the guts to kick one of his parents out of his house. He thought of Regulus again, he thought of the night he left, the way his father was too drunk to care, how his mother stared at him from the doorframe. She did not stop him, did not call out.

That night, Walburga Black could only stare as Sirius left with his bags.

tags ; @thatlittlered @giuli-in-earth @notsolong-pause @niceonejames7 @caspiankingofnarnia @ilovejamespottersomuch @bmyva1entine @lanadelreykt @froggiedragon @stanzie @theendofthematerialgworl @featherlightfairysworld @plk-18 @coldthinghairdobakery

#sirius black x reader #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era #padfoot #marauders era #sirius black fanfiction #marauders x reader #sirius black x you #sirus black #sirius #sirius o black #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x reader #sirius x you

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plokoonweek · 2 months ago

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Plo Koon week interest check

Koh-to-yah!

We noticed that people were interested in organizing Plo Koon week (probably first in history). Before we will start setting everything up, we need to see how many people would be interested (whether it is active participating or just watching what other folks made).

Here is a link to short poll (the form will be closed on the next Sunday, May 18)th:

When voting for the time of the event, please keep in mind that possible participants will need time to prepare their works. People can be also busy IRL, and we don't want anyone to do something in rush. We didn't include June, because it might be too early.

@swfandomevents for signal boost

If Plo Koon week will ever happen, here are some first rules and info. (below)

Rules:

Every content must be related to Plo Koon. Art, fanfiction, moodboards, video edits, e.t.c is allowed. The more Plo content, the better!

Plo Koon should be the main character in your work or have an important role. He shouldn't be reduced to only mentions nor background.

Every ship is allowed, including Plo Koon x OC, x reader. We are not going to judge anyone and we want this event to be a safe place. Hate towards participants and ship bashing will be banned. Please tag your works properly, so everyone will be able to find something they like!

Both NSFW and SFW is allowed. However you have to tag your NSFW works

Again, tags, tags, tags! They're your friends! Use them, tag stuff that other people may not be interested in or feel uncomfortable (like gore, torture, kinks, x reader, first POV, vomit, e.t.c)

There is no minimum word count, so even drabbles are okay to post!

No AI content. Every work has to be made by human, not machine.

Mention the event blog, so your work will be able to be reblogged! You can as well use the tag #Plo Koon week, #Plo Koon week 2025 before posting.

Reposting older works is allowed. Do you have a favorite fanfic or fanart? Tag the event blog, so we will be able to reblog it!

Be kind! The purpose of this event is to appreciate Plo Koon, not start ship wars or hate each other.

Prompts:

If the interest-check results will be satisfying, then we will open prompt submission.

After prompt submission will be over, we are going to create another poll, this time to let everyone choose which prompts are the best.

The prompts with the most votes are going to be included in the event.

Depending on the results of the first poll, each day will have one, two or three prompts

Day 7 will be free! If you didn't like any of the prompts, you're more than welcome to create something based on your own ideas! Be creative and share your work with others!

Date:

The event will last seven (7) days

The date of the event is not decided yet.

Host: @bart1607

#plo koon #Plo Koon Week #Plo Koon Week 2025 #interest check #star wars #tcw

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stvrkeysgal · 5 months ago

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i'm yours, but you're not mine — rafe cameron

summary: in which you were in a situationship—friends with benefits—situation with rafe cameron, but things took a drastic turn. and who knew one new year's eve would turn the whole thing upside down once more?

warnings: still angst, i think. reader is (?????) lowk into someone else, oops. :p

do you miss us, us? wonder if you regret the secret of us

the first three months without you had been hell for rafe. he found himself often staring at your picture on his phone, wondering how things would've turned out if he had properly talked to you when you told him about your feelings.

you spend most of your days with your friends, getting wasted and just trying to enjoy life without rafe to text you or call you whenever he pleased. everyone who knew you can easily say that there was something beneath all that and that you were breaking inside more and more everyday without rafe.

of course, none of them knew how serious it was. you and rafe did your best to keep the hookups a secret, but then again, everyone knew that the two of you had something they couldn't quite place their finger onto.

so now here goes rafe, back to the same old ways. getting shitfaced every night, hanging out with topper, kelce and his friends with a brand new girl wrapped around his arm every night.

even if he tried—god knows he tried—to forget about you, and not linger on the memories you both shared, as he laid in bed with the girl he found on the boneyard tonight.

she couldn't compare to you, rafe knew that. you were nothing like the girl he was with as of the moment, and the thought of being in love with you suddenly seemed to be too... favorable for rafe.

the same routine went on for as long as he remembered until he saw you one day at the bar with your friends and his sister. rafe was sat at the corner of the bar, free from wandering eyes and your sight. he did his best to ignore the pain in his chest at the sight of you doing so much better without him, carefree, eyes full of happiness that he never once saw when he still had you.

you were dancing on the dance floor, sarah and john b beside you.

what he didn't expect though, was to see you dancing with topper. topper, out of all people. he knew the two of you were close, but probably not to the extent that he had both his hands on your waist, guiding your hips as well while you swayed to the beat of the music.

you seemed to be too close with him for rafe's liking, and the idea of you possibly having a thing with topper crossed his mind. he wasn't exactly pleased with it, but he held himself back from doing anything that would make you hate him a little more. he just watched as you danced with his best friend, pretending and lying to himself that he didn't care because there was no reason to feel that way. he didn't love you, right?

—

you would be lying if you said that tonight wasn't the best of your life. you finally felt relieved for once, as if the weight on your shoulders were lifted just by hanging out with your friends and topper. you felt really good, knowing that someone finally saw you for the way you wanted to be seen. not just a one-call-away girl, but a woman.

and it had to be with one of the most unexpected people ever.

you laid in bed after a long night, and top was the one who got the privilege of taking you back to your house.

just like a part of your nightly routine, you scrolled mindlessly through instagram, looking at each post and reels that you deemed interesting. a notification pops up on your phone and was happy to see that it was topper tagging you on his insta story.

it was a photo of the two of you from tonight, his body pressed against yours as you danced with a red solo cup in your hand. you immediately reposted the photo on your story, a smile on your face as you did so.

after getting bored with just scrolling, you decided to sleep and set your phone aside. you closed your eyes in hopes of getting a good night's sleep, at least.

what you didn't expect though, was your phone chiming twice on the nightstand. you shrugged it off and thought it was probably your friends liking the story. but when it rings two more times, you decided it was enough.

it was as if the air got sucked out of your lungs when you saw who sent the texts.

rafe cameron replied to your story: the fuck is this shit?

rafe cameron: you're seeing my best friend?

rafe cameron: topper thornton, out of all people?

rafe cameron: seriously u could do so much better than that. u really got a bad replacement for me yk

you just blinked at his texts, debating whether to reply or not. part of you wanted to block rafe at this very moment, ignore his texts and go back to sleep, but your pride refused to be crushed. so you did what most rational people would do, which was to reply.

> what's it to you? last time i checked, you rejected me when i told you about how i felt

your heart was racing as you anticipated rafe's reply, pondering over the many possible outcomes your conversation will lead to. it could end with you sobbing your heart out for rafe once more, or it could lead to you finally getting him back and hurt him the way he did to you.

rafe cameron: i thought i made it clear that i didn't want u falling in love with me

rafe cameron: what's so hard to understand about that?

rafe cameron: you know what, fuck this. go be with topper for all i fucking care

as expected, rafe would try and turn this on you once he realizes he's in the wrong. but the thought of him possibly being jealous over topper crossed your mind. if he ever was, then you had the upper hand in the situation.

✫・゜・。..・。.✭

you found yourself hanging out with topper a lot more these days. you couldn't lie, you liked his company. he was so different from rafe, surprisingly. attentive, thoughtful and funny. he never failed to put a smile on your face, and made you feel so many things at once.

but still, he wasn't rafe.

your insta stories had been mainly about your friends and him, which didn't go unnoticed by rafe. each day passed by with him watching yours and top's insta stories, tagging each other in photos and posts that had him nearing the point of insanity. it kills him to see you finally being happy for once, and with a guy that wasn't him.

he knew he wasn't supposed to feel like this over you. jealous, crushed, and devastated all at once.

rafe was growing much more obsessed to see what you were up to lately, knowing that he could only watch your life in pictures... like he used to watch you sleep.

it killed you as well, the idea of rafe watching your stories and seeing your posts with topper, and him acting like he never cared for you at all. many times, you wished you were posting rafe instead and was having those moments with him, but that was the harsh reality you had to face. it could never be you, and rafe could never see you the way you saw him.

—

the three months slowly turned into longer times without rafe and you eventually got used to living without him, surrounding yourself more with the people you knew who loved you the most.

time flew by so fast and before you knew it, you were celebrating new year's eve tonight. not to mention that this year's christmas had been one of the best of your life, knowing that your friends were around to celebrate it with you.

sarah invited you, topper and the pogues to her house for a new year's eve party. which meant more alcohol, more cheesy moments, and none of rafe. you were just happy that that part of your life will be left behind after tonight.

or, at least, that's what you thought.

—

john b, jj and pope decided to get fireworks and light them up in sarah's backyard in hopes of a good display for tonight. she didn't seem to mind the idea though, but when she saw how much the boys had got, she doubted tonight's celebration would still be kept proper.

meanwhile, you, kie and sarah decorated the house for the celebration. after a while, the whole house looked perfect after a few hours of effort and climbing over chairs just to get the decorations up. "god, that was so tiring." sarah says, admiring the view of her living room as she wiped a few drops of sweat from her forehead. "this looks so fucking awesome. we did a good job." kie was the next one to reply, glancing at you and sarah with a proud smile.

"i can't wait to get shitfaced tonight." was the first sentence to leave your mouth after a while. the two of them just laughed at your remark. "is cutting back on alcohol really not one of your new year's resolutions?" sarah asks, her face twisted in a small grimace.

"listen here, cameron," you walked towards her, grabbing her shoulders gently with a smile on your face. "i'm probably one of the most alcoholic people you'll ever meet in your life. so don't get those hopes up of me cutting back from that shit."

"whatever you say, drama queen." she just shrugged and got away from your hold on her. "i just think that alcohol isn't really supposed to be the cure for all your problems."

—

two hours before new year's day, everyone gathered in sarah's backyard as you all watched the fireworks display. shades of green, blue, red and so many more colors scattered around the whole sky with different forms and all, giving all of you some sort of temporary happiness. "this year has been crazy," jj says, taking a swig of beer from his can. "yeah, well that's because you managed to pull kie. our girl over here, though..." pope says, turning towards you with a smirk. "has had the craziest year than all of us. well, probably. but at least she's happy now, right?"

happy wasn't the exact word to describe what you felt currently. there were times when you reminisced about the past you had with rafe, all while managing to stay carefree. so to say, you were just distracted.

"i mean yeah, i definitely am happy. i got all of you... and, well, topper. i'm perfectly happy with the way i am now." you shot them a half-hearted smile, ignoring the way your heart practically clenched at your own words.

"that's really good, babes. at least we know you're doing okay now." kie chimes in, before leaning over to give you a tight hug. "we're really proud of how you've dealt with everything."

a sense of satisfaction flooded your senses, making you feel calm and rested all at once. "thanks, kie. i wouldn't have done it without all of you." you looked at everyone with a smile, the sight of them being all around making you feel much more better than ever.

—

"three, two, one, happy new year!" the sound of your friends counting down, and more fireworks being lit up and displayed into the sky rang in your ears, sending a rush of satisfaction throughout your whole body.

everyone sent their greetings and hugged each other tightly, the thought of being thankful and happy running through each of your minds.

you've finally felt all your burdens from last year leave your body, making you feel new and a different person.

you checked your phone for the photos you took earlier, but then a text came through. and it wasn't just any text, it was from the man you have tried so hard to free yourself from.

rafe (do NOT reply): someone played this song at my neighbor's house today. immediately thought of you.

> sent a link to "new year's day - taylor swift" on spotify

a/n: i feel like the new year's celebration shit was so out of the season. it's almost february and i don't know what to feel abt this ISTGGGGG anyway i've never felt so excited to write for a part 2 of a fic that i finished ts in about 2 hours 🙏🏻 feel free to rant in the comments or my inbox mwah

masterlist | part 1

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron x reader #obx #outer banks #IDK WHAT THIS IS BYE LEAVE ME ALONE 😭🙏🏻

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eloquentlytired · 1 month ago

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haunting snow; tommy miller x fem! reader

summary: this is just a very random n totally fake version of what happens to tommy after he parts from joel and before he finds maria xx idk but I've been cooking this idea for a while so here it is!

tags: strangers to momentary lovers, reckless and younger tommy, fluff to smut, nipple play, tommy likes tits hell yeah, he is also a lil bastard, some dirty talk, wholesome caring reader who's doing her best! , not proof read btw

likes and reposts r appreciated 🫶🏻 ( +++ to the ppl who requested tommy I'm almost done w ur reqs hehe )

Tommy never tells the entire truth of how he met his current wife and the others. It's not like Joel needs to know, nor Maria. Especially Maria.

He remembers getting lost in the snow and, without being properly dressed, how much he'd been freezing then. Tommy recalls passing out somewhere— the location was unclear because of how much snow had piled up all around him. And then on top of him.

That's not all Tommy remembers.

Every time he closes his eyes, he dreams of that night's events.

Freezing, hungering, shouting for help before losing his senses in every way known.

When he wakes up, everything is different and so warm that it feels like a dream. He blinks and his eyes adjust to the dancing light of a fire burning before him.

He tries to move somehow yet he can't.

There's motion in his hair — something scratches. Then it caresses him so soothingly that Tommy wants to say thank you.

He isn't entirely conscious yet he manages to make out some things and sensations. The fire by his side, the hand in his hair and another heartbeat beneath his ear. His head rests on another's chest, he can tell this much.

“You’re okay.” The foreign voice tells him while the caresses never cease. If only Tommy could speak or move around to look, he already would have.

There's not much he can do or register before he sinks into a deep sleep again, feeling overly tired.

The second time he wakes up, he feels even more confused.

Tommy opens his eyes and the first thing he sees is a blurry image of you, naked from the waist high. He doesn't have the time to process it as you're already pulling up your shirt and buttoning it up.

“You’re awake.” You tell him and pull him out of his trance. When Tommy looks at you, his breath hitches.

Maybe it's the fact that he almost died from a frostbite, maybe not but he cannot help but admire you a little as you smile like that. To Tommy, you just might be a godsend gift.

He looks around now that he can, takes in the sight of a clearly abandoned cabin and three incredibly warm blankets engulfing him in a tight cocoon. Yes, he looks ridiculous but he's so warm.

“Forgive me for—” You signal between the two of you as you're still buttoning up your shirt. “Body heat is best in these situations and I really didn't want you to die.”

Tommy smiles and he can see your shoulders dropping a little.

“You saved my life back there.” He rasps, he's in clear need of water.

While he's not fond of warm water, he downs the cup you give him too fast.

“You check for bite marks? I could've been infected you know.” Tommy continues and his sudden sternness catches you off guard. Your silence tells him more than he needs to know.

“You’re either too kind or too stupid, sweetheart.” He says between coughs and as much as you'd like to get offended, you were too worried to do that.

Your first instinct is to sit by his side and place the back of your hand against his forehead.

“The sudden change of temperature has upset your body. I'll need to give you more fluids too.” You muttered mainly to yourself as you walked towards your bag.

Tommy watched you tiredly, with intrigue, and he couldn't help but find it all amusing.

“Wasting your supplies for strangers? Heck, even my brother would insult you if he was here.” His mind wandered off to Joel for a moment, hoping that he's alright.

“It is important to save whoever...normal is left.” Is all you tell him as you return with your hands full.

You push a different cup into his hands with a strange dark liquid inside that Tommy doesn't really want to trust.

A mere glare from you is enough to change his mind though. “It is for your fever. Drink it now.”

Tommy frowns at your words. “It ain’t good to get this stuff with your stomach empty, right?”

You want to laugh because of how unbelievable this guy is, making jokes after nearly dying. All poor you can do is grin.

“I already fed you a while back.” Tommy looks so shocked when he realizes he didn't remember a single second of that moment. “It is okay. You were too feverish and kept calling for a Joel guy.”

He relaxes at that information, and confirmation he isn't just going crazy, and drinks the medicine. It's bitter and he wishes he could just spit it out.

The rest of the hour passes by... familiarly.

Tommy doesn't know you, you don't know him. But by the way things are escalating, it is almost like you're old friends.

He watches you cook something over the fire and his tummy rumbles — what had you fed him exactly before? Fucking leaves?

You look over at his side while you cook, laughing every time because of how desperate he appears.

“Control your appetite, mister. I'll give you some.” You have never seen a man turn happy as fast as Tommy has.

Tommy talks to you while you share your food with him. It really feels like he's dealing with some divine powers here — you, the blankets, the food, the medicine.

“You heal well.” You tell him and you look absolutely relieved. Tommy can't remember the last time someone had looked that relieved for him; probably when Joel had to bail him out of jail or something.

“You looked so bruised and...dead.” His eyes follow your motions and the way your shaky hands grip your wooden cup. “A few more minutes and I would have been too late.”

He feels a pang of guilt in his chest at how worried he's made you.

Tommy clears his throat as he looks over at the weakening fire. “Thank you for saving me. I wouldn't have made it without you and jesus— that's fucking scary to realize.”

He jolts a little, not expecting the light weight of your hand on his shoulder. Tommy looks at you, you look back, and he leans in for many unknown reasons.

The blankets are beneath you as your back brushes against them with each motion of Tommy’s hips from above.

The sounds in the small cabin vary. Some floor creaking, fire cracking, your soft sounds and of course Tommy’s words that ignite the spark in your belly.

You're not that kind of girl, you swear, but it's been ages since you were last touched and it always seemed like a distant dream after the apocalypse happened.

You were human, Tommy was too and you two had needs like everybody else.

“There—” You almost thank him for following your lead, for pushing his cock right at the spot that has you tightening and panting.

You gush around him while your pussy swallows him deeper. It's like you're made to take him like this, to have Tommy between your legs as he whispers to you.

“Here?” The bastard grins as he plunges his cock deep inside you, hitting the same bulge of nerves.

Tommy’s hips move restlessly, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising manner and spreading your legs wider.

He considers himself a lucky man to enjoy this type of view. Your body jolting beneath him with each thrust, your bouncing breasts and one of your hands sneaking low to play with your clit.

Tommy leans down and suckles a nipple into his mouth, making you moan again. He rolls his tongue around and over it, licks it well, before sucking some more until the bud is sensitive enough. He moves to your other nipple to do the same while you tighten around him.

He shifts until his hands are cupping your breasts fully, fondling and groping them, while his mouth takes no break.

“I can't take it.”

You confess as you feel the desire burning you alive and your clit throbbing beneath your fingers.

Tommy thrusts messily, suckles your nipples and hums. The motions of his hips never stop as he fucks you and assaults that sweet spot repeatedly.

“Tastes so good.” He mumbles as he releases a swollen nipple to attack the other again. His hands are relentless and rough with your tits but you can barely mind when his thick cock is splitting you open and giving you what you need.

You feel your orgasm slowly building as your walls tighten around his cock and warn him. Tommy does the unspeakable of biting your nipple and pulling slightly, just enough. Good enough.

“Fuck—” It's hot and sensitive, you don't know why you're so sensitive, but your fingers pinch your clit at the same time and you come hard.

It takes all of Tommy’s willpower not to spill inside you as you squeeze and soak his cock with your wetness, making him lose his mind.

He pulls out before he makes a reckless decision and strokes his cock.

You reach for him mindlessly, angling his cock towards your pussy, and Tommy grinds his tip against your spent clit while getting himself off.

There's no complaint, especially when he gets to come all over your pussy while you're watching him with those eyes — eager to please. He shoots a final load just beneath your lower belly and drops to the spot beside you.

You don't talk as Tommy presses his chest against your back and holds you, replenishing the warmth that you'd been missing this whole time. A warmth that wasn't just the heat of the fire.

Tommy doesn't know why he still thinks about that day.

Maybe it haunts him a little because of the choice he'd made in walking away right after, leaving you alone in that cabin.

He had no real excuse except the fact he was Tommy Miller and he did not settle — right.

With a current wife and a baby on the way, of course it all seemed really ironic now.

“Tommy!” He hears Maria first before spotting her in the snowy distance, walking past a few others.

He couldn't distinguish her expressions until she was close enough, her comforting hands reaching for his roughened ones.

“We found a few survivors, they're pretty butchered.” It wasn't strange for Maria to fill him in but it certainly was unusual to be approached for that sort of task.

Tommy stares at her in confusion.

“One of them is asking for you? A girl.” Whether his wife noticed him getting incredibly tense, she doesn't comment on it.

Tommy wants to ask who but he realizes how hopeless it was. He hadn't even asked for your name.

His feet feel heavy as Maria leads the way to either what he expects or a true surprise.

Whatever it is, Tommy senses it's haunted him for a reason.

#tommy miller x you #tommy miller smut #tommy miller x reader #tommy miller tlou #tommy miller #tlou #tlou hbo #gabriel luna #gabriel luna x you #gabriel luna x reader #gabe luna #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou x reader

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lucilleambrose · 28 days ago

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Official Author/Poet Introduction

Hey guys! Welcome to my blog ♡

Here's a small intro about me and my work for everyone who stumbles upon my humble abode.

★ Information about the owner of the blog :-

Name -> Lucille

Pronouns (preferred) -> She/Her

Content that they post -> Original work only (with some exceptions of songs taken from Spotify or images derived from pinterest.)

• Includes poetry (Of varied types)

• Stories, mainly compromising of original characters.

• Original photography

★ COPYRIGHT NOTICE

All original works shared on this blog are the exclusive property of @lucilleambrose and are protected under the copyright laws of the creator's country, which grant full rights upon creation.

Unless explicitly stated otherwise (such as in the case of reblogs where the original poster is someone else), every post is an original work by lucilleambrose and includes the following notice:

Reblogging is allowed only on this platform with full credit. No part of this content may be changed, copied, or shared on any other website or platform under any circumstances.

The tag #copyrighted is included on each post to ensure clear visibility of these terms. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or modification of any content is strictly prohibited.

All content tagged #lucilleambrose is original and falls under the copyright ownership of the author.

★ Last but not least,

• For permissions or inquiries, please reach out via Tumblr ask box (for repost permission requests, anonymous asks will not be considered) or direct message.

• Every post has been carefully tagged with respective trigger warnings and/or credits to original posters.

• Any images posted by the author will have proper credit of origin, mainly apps like Pinterest or Google shall be utilised and some pictures may be originals as well for future reference.

• Any Music that'll be recommended or used shall be properly credited to its place of origin.

Thank You For Going Through This.

Enjoy your time on my blog, welcoming you all with open arms and a loving heart.

A Directory For All My Work Is Provided Down Below:-

(Mainly it's because scrolling in Tumblr is such a hassle so really I'm making both our lives easier with this. Organization for the win 🦋)

★ ORIGINAL POETRY :-

• A Pretty Picture

• The Lady On The Hill

• The Car That Didn't Stop

• Creations Of An Empty Sky

• The Sailor That Loved

• Too Late For Regrets

• My Secret

• My Journal

• The Leap Of Love

• Surface-Level Fine

• His Star And Her Starcrossed Lover

• Beauty And The Beast

• The Lady Of Love

• Family Dinner

• Dark

• The Day Humanity Fell

• Long Nights And Longer Days

• To The Chosen

• Numbered Days

• The Unloved

★ MONOLOGUE POETRY :-

• Do We Really Have A Choice At The End Of The Day?

• Lost

• Nostalgia

• I Love You, Maybe.

• The Lies Of Childhood

• People - Good? Bad?

• Death

• Time Lost

★ ORIGINAL QUOTES :-

• Me And Him

• Flawless Liars

• Astronomy

• A Life Of Love And Yet A Lack Thereof

• The Rain And Us

• A Blind World

★ ORIGINAL STORIES :-

• Chapter 13 :- I Fell For You In Every Season

★ ORIGINAL PHOTOGRAPHY :-

• The Sun

• Hiraeth

★ POETIC REBLOGS :-

• Products Of Our Past

• Worst Fear Anyone?

• My Greatest Desire

• Initial Wallpaper Vision

• Dead Poets Society

• His Eyes

• Escapism

• All This And Still We Met

★ RANDOM BLOGS :-

• Next To You

• Wallpapers Worth Sharing

• Simple Actions

• Lit Major Struggles

★ MILESTONES :-

• 50 Likes

• 100 Likes

• 250 Likes

• 50 Posts

• 500 Likes

★ TUMBLR ASKS :-

• My Muse

• This One Is So Sweet

• What inspires my work

• 5 Things I Like About Myself

• A New Community

★ TUMBLR TAG GAMES :-

• Bloggers Unite

• 5 things you will always find in my work

• WIP's

• Inspiration For My Work

• How Pinterest Sees Me

★ COMMUNITY POSTS :-

1) Our Tumblr Bookstore

• Creations Of An Empty Sky

• Save Me

• I Fell For You In Every Season

• Nostalgia

• His Star And Her Starcrossed Lover

2) The Poets Porch

• My Introduction

• The Day Humanity Fell

3) Poetry Community

• Too Late For Regrets

• Love, A Curse?

• Empty Graves

• My Secret

• Death

#blog intro #lucille ambrose

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lemotmo · 3 months ago

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.......I am so very confused by these people

Q. I'm hoping I explain this correctly because I don't want to come across as rude. I very much appreciate that you take the time to provide canon examples when you are replying to people but I was curious about your response to the anon who offered you canon examples of why the story is actually about Buck and Tommy, and not Eddie. How come those canon examples were dismissed as 'made up' but your canon examples are not 'made up'?

A. I'm assuming you're speaking of the reply to the person who took my episode examples and resent them to me saying how they were actually about Tommy and not Eddie? And I said it was made up because their argument was asinine. Their argument essentially boiled down to saying that Buck really was cursed by Billy Boils and Tommy helped 'cure' him of said curse by playing along with him as proof of his unwavering support and we were supposed to take the curse thing at face value because Tim said in an interview that it was a curse and Tommy helped fix him. But that's not an accurate description of what Tim actually said. Yes he played along with the curse bit in an interview, but literally no one else did. And you can't say we're not supposed to take Tim saying Tommy is in Buck's romantic past at face value and then turn around and say but we do have to take the curse nonsense at face value.

Then they spent 4 paragraphs on how Tommy saying Eddie was competition wasn't really Tommy saying he sees Eddie as competition. They said the word competition was an accident because he was too nervous to organize his thoughts correctly so he said the first word he could think of and that was the word competition, but that's not really what he meant (even though the word competition only ever means ONE thing and literally no one uses it accidentally) therefore that means it was a miscommunication and they're actually doing the miscommunication trope for Buck and Tommy. Then they argued that Buck also didn't mean what he said except the times he said Eddie was straight. Those were honest words but everything else Buck said was Buck lying to himself because he's afraid to admit that he's in love with Tommy. So that makes it a miscommunication on both sides. And you don't understand why I dismissed that 'argument' as asinine? Then they said that basically the episode was just really badly written and because of that it was confusing in general but basically Tommy didn't mean what he said, and Buck was only telling the truth every time he said Eddie was straight but the rest of the episode he was lying because he's afraid of his feelings for Tommy and is using Eddie as a kind of shield. It makes less than zero sense, anon. Come on, what do you want me to do with an argument like that? You can't possibly expect me to entertain it as any kind of valid argument. If you have to twist the story and yourself into that much of a pretzel to try and project your narrative onto it then the story is not being told the way you're trying to insist it's being told. It's that simple. An alleged curse, an allegedly badly written episode, and now a sister with pregnancy brain and PTSD who shouldn't be allowed to give relationship advice (something so offensive and gross that I can't properly express how gross it is btw) is the hill that they're trying to argue on. Really? Nope. I'm not going to pretend nonsense like that should be taken seriously.

Thank you Nonny!

Well then...

¯\(ツ)/¯

IMPORTANT! Please don't repost this ask and/or a link that leads straight to my Tumblr account on Twitter or any other social media. Thank you!

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

#anonymous blog I love #nonnies galore #911 8b #T mention #BT mention #anti tommies #anti tommies fandom

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sunder-the-gold · 2 months ago

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Ending of a Grand Overture

Reposting my response on my own for the sake of anyone in the tags who wants more people to talk about this event.

Kinda funny but kinda sad but kinda funny that I saw Literally No One talk about the Siege event. -- cerastes

Sad is right, because that shit was depressing. A non-exhaustive list:

Londinium — the city, the infrastructure, the people who maintain both and depend on them to survive — is fucked; even the rich and nobility are Infected and desperately trying to hide it

to the common people, the Sarkaz who were born and raised in Londinium are now indistinguishable from the Sarkaz from Kazdel; they didn't leave with the foreigners as they retreated, but now they're being forced to leave their home anyway

a Columbian who honestly wants to help is annoying in a way that no one can properly explain to him because they don't want to point out that they can't trust his help since the CIA is funding the company he represents, and they don't want to explain all of their familiar Victorian bullshit that is getting in Londinium's way

the dukes are actively hindering the city’s ability to recover, and they keep hanging around specifically to make sure the people don't crown the woman who saved them as king

the people want to reward the woman who saved them by crowning her king and making her a symbol of hope, and they cannot understand why their hero refuses to give them what they want

a common hero of the people is sentenced to death for an impulsive act of ‘stealing’ the crown for the sake of the hope of the people — even when it turns out her death was faked, she's liable to die within a week anyway because her Oripathy is so bad

The Windermere medic that was such a stand-up guy in the main-story has become Infected, and he's addicted to opioids because he passed the real Oripathy suppressants to other people while he kept working too hard

Siege hates her job but she can't leave it; she can steal away a few days to visit the Glasgow Gang gym, but Morgan spells it out in her writing — they can never really have their friend "Vina" back, even if she's only the Speaker instead of the king

The Glasgow Gang has become basically helpless to assist Siege in any capacity now that the war is over, because Indra and Morgan are just a couple of common-born street thugs, and that one younger guy left

Baird is still fucking dead because she tied to help this one terminally ill guy who had lost his mind and shanked her, and she bled out alone without her friends around, and Siege still hasn't really accepted that she's dead, and Morgan is vexed because she's denied the context for the last words Baird wrote before she died

Dadga lost her noble family and formalized the end of the Tower Knights, and Delphine has to leave them to return home, and she might not be able to return like she promises

Allerdale has become Asshole Batman whom Siege must treat as an enemy even though Allerdale is trying to help people, because the most effective way that Allerdale can help people is by employing criminals and ne'erdowells towards productive work like smuggling native-born Londinium Sarkaz out of the city, as well as buying and selling painkillers on the black-market because there's not enough real medicine in the legitimate market and the dukes are blocking legitimate channels

The enemies in the combat stages are mostly just common people struggling to survive; frightened scavengers armed with planks of wood or whatever sword they found laying on the ground, young men who became thieves because too many factories shut down for them to find honest work, old men trying to protect their neighborhoods...

The final boss is a fucking joke and is based entirely on a bullshit "fairy tale" that Siege desperately slapped together to comfort a woman whom thought she was going to die the next morning, but only because Siege didn't tell her that she had already planned a way to smuggle her out of the city

Nazzsalem, the Sarkaz God of War, died off-screen in his own final battle scene; I didn't know that was even possible. We need a new Design of Strife event specifically so we can fight this man as he leads Chapter 11 and Chapter 14 Nachzehrer enemies against us in a massive two-phase battle.

#arknights #siege #vina victoria #ending of a grand overture

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yoongissweetdream · 1 year ago

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Nowhere Else to Go.

-> Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

-> Request: This is a repost from my old account

-> Synopsis: With nowhere else to turn, Y/N finds herself on the doorstep of her childhood rival.

-> Warnings: mentions of being enemies and rivals, boyfriend and best friend cheating with each other, losing a job, parents being disappointed.

-> Word Count: 577

-> Requests: Closed. I will make a post when they're open again.

Han Jisung Masterlist

©️ 2024 dancinglikebutterflywings - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. Likes, comments & reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, thank you.

Tears in her eyes, Y/N finds herself standing at the front door of the home that belongs to the one person she despises most in the world. He also just so happens to be the only person she feels like she has left.

Y/L/N Y/N and Han Jisung have been enemies since elementary school. In school they were always competing to see who was the better of the two of them in all subjects and activities they were both in. Even now, as adults, when they see each other, they feel the need to prove that their lives were so much better than the others. Y/N can’t remember how it started or even why. She’s beginning to feel like they’re only the way they are because they’ve been like it for so many years that it’s engrained in them.

Despite everything that’s happened between them, she also finds herself keeping up to date on all of Jisung’s (and Stray Kids) accomplishments. But she won’t admit that to anyone let alone Jisung himself.

After debating with herself for a few minutes, she knocks on the door, half hoping he won’t answer. She quickly wipes away the tears that have fallen only to be replaced with a fresh set. Feeling stupid when he doesn't answer, she starts to walk away.

“What are you doing here?” She hears his voice, his tone filled with annoyance and a hint of confusion. She hadn't heard the door open as she turned around.

"I had nowhere else to go," she tells him, keeping her back to him.

“Last I checked, you’ve got friends,” he sighs. She can pictured the look of annoyance on his face.

She takes a deep breath, trying to compose herself as the reality of her situation hits her. "I shouldn't have come here."

"But you did," he says. "So, why?"

Trying to get rid of her tears that won't stop falling, she hastily wipes them away before turning back around to face him. “Did you know you’re the only person who’s always been honest with me? I could really use some of that honesty right now.”

Jisung's expression softens as he takes in her tear-stained face. "What's going on, Y/N?"

"My life is falling apart," she begins. "My life is falling apart," she begins. "My boyfriend cheated with my best friend and all my so-called friends knew and didn't tell me. I lost my job because of those two and now my family is disappointed. My mum won't talk to me."

Jisung listens intently, his eyes filled with empathy. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. We might not get along but even I can say that you don't deserve any of that. Do you want to come in for a drink? I have beer and Soju."

Y/N hesitates for a moment before nodding. Jisung stands aside, motioning for her to come in. He closes the door behind them after she walks inside. He walks to the fridge. “Soju or beer?” he asks opening the fridge door.

“Soju, please,” she replies taking a seat on the couch.

He grabs a bottle of Soju and two glasses from the cupboard before joining her on the couch.

As they sit together, drinking the night away, they end up bonding over everything going wrong in their lives right now and realize they have more in common than they thought. This unexpected turn of events leads to a newfound friendship that neither of them saw coming.

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porcelainebambi · 4 months ago

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Ooo ya shaka shaka

I'm up way too late again because i was drawing but it's also been way too long without drawing for my liking so oh well. And obviously i had to draw Angel because i adore her. Forgive any spelling mistakes i may make it's past 3:00 in the morningmeow.

First photo Lilith dancing with Angel at prom because Angel is a cutie in her little dress and shawl. And Lily is singing who's that wonderful girl as she spins her all around even though pop music is very just playing around them. Weid ass color layering over them cause i was just having fun doing something silly. Also they're in two entirely different line thicknesses but i don't care enough to fix and repost it meow. Lilith loves angel so much and would be like noticeably sweeter to her than she is to any other PC including my own.

second one angel panics because she didn't know she has suddenly become such a lady's man. Babette is there and she definitely has a big crush on angel. She loves a princely girl who doesn't like sex because babs is asexual and regularly bear sprays people who flirt with her unless they're a hot masc girl with lion like hair. AKa just anyone who looks like Angel.

But the other girl is a PC i haven't actually put out yet. Her name is Genevieve, or Genie. She also likes Angel but she's constantly half dissociated, basically never makes expressions unless you specifically ask her to, and she has no emotional recognition so she doesn't know she likes Angel. In my head they met because someone was harassing Genie and Angel swooped i to swing on them right as Genie was about to stab them in the face. And she was like oh wow someone is doing the hard part for me. I should give her a cool keychain and some strawberry jammie. People like neat jam jars right?

And ever since she follows angel like a lost puppy, keeps giving little trinkets she finds like a pup showing you its favorite toy, and sometimes just gives her money because she has no understanding of the actual value of money she just knows other people need it.

I need to include a fun fact in all my posts so fun fact neither of them are actually real angels. They're what i like to think of as imitation angels which are just divine angel adjacent things who aren't bound by the same rules as actual angels. I don't really care that much about canon at this point when it comes to making my PCs because restricting myself when i know im insane about super natural and horror stuff is like that image of the werewolf tearing its shirt off.

Those two little imitation angels are so majorly possessive of Angel as soon as they get their grubby little hands on her and i have literally over 16 drawing ideas in a big list that I want to make of just Angel and my freaks interacting. Im gonna shit myself if i dont get the chnace to draw them all.

also genie is a puppy angel thing i was just entirely tooo lazy to properly connect her dog ears in this drawing.

@ladyofalabyrinth sorry for all this yappery so late at night you're gonna get tagged like 30 times over spring break because ill have full free range chicken time to be drawing my bif angel drawing idea list

meow maow miao

#dollie-rambles #dol pc #angel the vengeful #im insane im crazy #I have like an entire lore document for Genie that im working on #she and lilith have the most lore of all my characters because they exist mostly or entirely outside of the orphanage plot #also i have lil 8??? pcs cause i like making different in game personalities and plotlines and transformatins #they probablywon't all be posted because some of them are purposely meant to be forgotten about innstory #but also i genuenly just lost the game saves for like 3 which is dissapointing

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beginning-writer · 2 months ago

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Wip Thursday! (even though it was suppost to be wednesday!)

Thanks for the tag, @lancedoncrimsonwings! And actualy i'm gonna share a whole chapter from my first fic, which also was a Lancewain, Weeping monk x Green knight fic. (yes, i've been obsessed on them for years, no judment allowed)

I'm tagging @holy3cake again because fanfic appretiation is everything, and @warlocklawyer666 @the-tav3rn-0wner for the game!

It's a pretty average fic, not well-structured and I still didn't know how to write a story properly. I deleted it from Ao3 because I was ashamed of it and of writing fics, and my chronic anxiety only made the situation worse. Today I'm proud to be a fic freak and I admit that to anyone who asks, and of course I laugh and am proud of my origins in this world. And in fact I'm considering reposting it as a "personal monument" on Ao3 again.

The following post is 5,329 words long. Read if you fell like it and please do so without judgment. The personalities aren't entirely accurate, there are medical errors that when I reread them made me wonder if I really knew how broken bones worked, and the narrative switches characters halfway through and then back again.

Chapter 1: Not firendly, but a start.

Three hours.

Had been exactly three hours since Lancelot betrayed the church. Three hours since he killed the trinity and saved a fae child. Three hours since he was brutally bruised to save the life of a reckless boy who hated him. Everyone hated him. This was something he was sure.

It had been three long hours since he abandoned everything he was raised to fight for and believe in since the moment he were considered useful to the church. But… abandoning everything because of a single moment with the Green Knight? No. This was not what happened. In fact, that was so far from what had in on his mind.

Lancelot was not emotional or foolish enough to let his world fall apart just for the sake of a moment. But it was not even for the moment, it was just a sentence. Either way, that was not why he fell. That was not why he let himself fall.

He did this because the Green Knight didn't smell like lies. He was not bad like the horrible demons, that he called his church brothers, that he's living whit since he has ten years old. No. He was good and kind. Even though the former monk was lost, he still considered him as a brother, because of course they are all brothers, but it did not smell like a lie when it came out of his mouth.

The boy, Percival, or Squirrel, as he preferred to be called, were just a small and more inconsequential image of someone he knew as a child at his vision. Maybe a little like the Knight, but much more like someone else.

Lancelot could not let all the atrocities that happened to him happen to another child. The idea that this could ever happen had always made him queasy.

Even though he was denying it, he really did not want, never wanted in fact, to hurt the boy or any other child. But especially never him. He was special, and he knew it from the moment he saw him for the first time. It was impossible to look at him and imagine his body on the brink of death without hurting himself by doing it, and feeling such a bitter taste in his mouth that it made him want to vomit.

The boy could be anything, but like other people he certainly was not.

Oh, how his brother would have loved him. This was a recurring thought in his mind during the ride.

The fight brought serious consequences. By now, the designated person should have read the letter he left. He could never come back. All that left for him was to accept what he had done and take care of the boy who was strangely quiet.

The fight was not bad just for the church. He was not feeling well either. His body was full of blood and had new wounds. But it could have been much more. It could be death. Which somehow did not seem so bad. Because now, death seemed just like an old friend who visited him often. Its cold smell of wet oak was very comforting and very strong too.

His body was aching and collapsing in on itself, but he still tried not to lean too much on the boy. Putting the full weight of your body on him felt wrong. Everything felt wrong, just as everything hurt. Both things had been going on for too long for it to become unbearable.

The guilt, uncertainty and pain finally meeting in your mind making your head pound and making everything worse.

Yeah, death definitely did not seem that bad right now.

The ribs was the most damage. It was worse, but the blood had hardened, limiting blood loss from some of the newly wounds. Due to the broken ribs, his lungs also hurt a lot. Each breath was torture, as if a thousand needles were pricking his lungs every time he tried to breath. The hot air going in and out of his nostrils made his lungs burn.

Apart from the large opening, the shoulder only appeared to be dislocated. The cut was deep, but it did not look like anything he could not fix on his own. Just a few bandages would be enough. If he did not use his arm too much he could recover easily in a few weeks, and even if he had to use it, he would still recover faster than normal people would.

He could handle it. He could handle a lot. Considering he was raised for this.

Percival was quieter than usual. Probably trying to understand what happened a few hours ago. Or maybe he just didn’t want to talk to the person responsible for killing everyone he knew and loved, including the one he admired most, the green knight.

The Green Knight. He was the greatest hope of all the fae and an image to be followed by children and teenagers. The figure who brought peace and even without a word said that they could sleep peacefully. And the monk killed him. This was definitely something he could not forget or ignore.

He had not said a word after they left the camp. His thoughts were too confused to form a sentence, and the proof of this was that the monk who had spoken for the first time asking his name. But now the monk, or Lancelot, as he would have to get used to calling him now, did not seem that different from his situation, since he also had not spoken a word since they both said their real names.

It was strange to being so long without talking to someone. Squirrel was used to being the most talkative, the person that others asked to calm down when he talked too much, something that was not very difficult for him to do usually. Squirrel always liked to talk and that was good, it was not a defect, so it did not need to be hidden or resolved.

A lot had happened in a short time. The paladins captured Gawain and tied him to a chair to be tortured, he tried to rescue him, but the knight refused the help because he knew he was on the verge of death, and also for Percival's own safety. While was running out of the camp he was caught and taken to be tortured, and almost was if the former monk hadn't saved him. Lancelot took him out of the torture chair and saved him, but got caught taking him out of the camp, then fought against the trinity so that he would come out alive, abandoning everything he knew and fighting only for him. And above that. He discovered that Lancelot, the Weeping Monk, responsible for the nightmares of many and the deaths of hundreds more, was, in fact, a fae.

Lancelot was not just a fae, he was from a folk who had left British lands centuries ago. No one knew for sure why they left. There were several legends and theories about why this happened, but nothing and no one to confirm it. All they knew was that they had left and taken their secrets with them, and had no plans to return. And if they did, it certainly would not be so soon.

Riding in silence did not seem to be a problem for Lancelot, maybe he even preferred it, but the endless silence was getting on Squirrel's nerves. He didn't want to and had no idea how to talk to the man, recently his ex-enemy, behind him. But the doubt was nagging at his head. "Why?”

Why of so many children, so many good and important people, so many who also deserved to be saved. Why among so many did he choose him? He was just one among the rest in the eyes of the paladins. At least it should be.

Of course, he did not see himself as the other brats at his age. Squirrel was more courageous and determined, ran and fought better too. He spoke without fear. If his only weapon were his voice, then he would gladly use it until the last second.

Particularly, he thought he was better than others were.

Maybe it was it. Maybe Lancelot had seen him the same way Squirrel sees himself, but it was really leaving a question mark in his head. He wanted to ask, but it was not the right time, maybe later. Or maybe he would figure it out on his own, or the man would let it out on his own and he would not have to ask. Anyway, the silence still was uncomfortable and annoying.

Lancelot on the other hand, was just a little uncomfortable with the situation. He never had a fae so close to his nostrils since he was a child and lived with others just like him. The silence was good. He was used to the silence from always traveling alone. It also helped him focus on any noise other than his creaking bones.

One of the good parts of riding alone was know exactly where to spend the night or not. Places that went unnoticed or that no one would imagine anyone could stay in. It was perfect, and his favourites too. No one but Goliath for company. But now he would have to get used to not staying or traveling alone.

Lancelot always trusted his horse, and his horse always trusted him. It didn't take much to direct it, even when its owner was injured. He grabs Goliath's reins and easily guides it off the trail. Within a few minutes of riding, they arrive in a small, narrow, deserted valley.

Squirrel becomes hysterical as soon as the horse begins to move off the trail, resembling a frightened animal.

What if he had saved him only to disembowel him alone and with his own hands? The thought echoes in his mind, making him more tense and frightened, though Lancelot seems too weak for that. But still: "Just because a wolf is calm doesn't mean he's trustworthy. Some dogs are trained to attack only with their owners' permission, or when they are close enough to their victims."

Perhaps he just wanted to gain his trust and of others one, so he could kill them and burn the camp while they slept. Yes, it made sense. The best of the paladins sure were smart enough to do so.

But if this was indeed his plan, why would he kill the trinity for it? Why save him instead of the Green Knight? Wouldn't it make more sense? Or maybe he knew he was close friends with the famous Wolf-Blood Witch, or as the fae knew her, The Fae Queen.

But it was not likely. Unless the paladins also had an interest in Squirrel. Which was not the case.

Lancelot noticed that Squirrel posture had become tenser. He was hysterical and not too hard to notice. Of course it would not be that easy. He didn't think the boy would forgive all the atrocities he committed to him and his people just because he saved him from being tortured. In fact, he didn't think anyone would.

He learned since an early age that the story of 'all fae are brothers, even the lost ones' was just a phrase for the other fae peoples. The Ashes, on the other hand, had taken it very seriously for centuries. Long before they left Britain they believed and followed it strongly. 'A brother is always a brother no matter what happened, and that should not be discussed.' That's what the elders always said.

The Knight said the liar phrase to him. But there was so much truth in his eyes, already bruised from torture, that it didn't seem like a lie. It seemed like such a clear truth that it made him believe that it had come from the depths of his painful broken soul. Not as something to save his own skin from death, but something to say that whenever he wanted to come back, he would have a home and a people waiting for him. And the fact that he hadn't told his secret when he could have only strengthened the thought.

Not all fae were brothers, and he knew it. But it seemed that to the Knight they really were all brothers. Seeing him with his whole body bruised on the verge of death made his heart bleed.

He thought about it when he was alone in his tent. And then a memory came to his mind. The memory that he had a people who loved him and would welcome him if he returned home. A people who were waiting for him to come home even after so many years. A subject so long buried in his mind, but that the Green Knight brought up again. Like the first ray of sunshine after winter.

He should have come back. He should have gone back a long time ago, when he first got the opportunity. But the constant thought of what might happen to him if the paladins caught him running away held him back every time he had the chance.

It was wrong. His people taught him that a brother was a brother no matter what. So he was supposed to be a brother, but he was not. Was not because his fear was always greater than his desire to return.

But he could go back to being a brother now. The knight could no longer be saved, but the kid could. Besides, he always refused to hurt children. He couldn't help the Knight, but the Knight wanted to help him and that was enough.

The least he could do now was to return the boy nicknamed Squirrel back to his people. Or what was left of it. And even though he didn't trust him, Lancelot had still taken him as his responsibility, even if the child didn't know it yet. But he still had to reassure him. A nervous, scared child was definitely the last thing he needed right now.

"It's getting dark. I'm just making sure no one is going to find us at night. I'm still hurting and you still need to sleep.” He says to Squirrel in an awful attempt to reassure him.

"You don't have to explain something so obvious to me. I'm not dumb.” He says in a slightly rude tone, trying to disguise the distrust and fear in his voice.

"I don't think you’re dumb, but your posture became tenser when I led Goliath off the trail." He explains to the youngest, who again looked like an animal frightened by the new information that every movement made was perceived.

"Hmm." That was the only thing he could say.

"I'm not going to disembowel you overnight if that's what you was thinking." He adds, seeing the child's posture relax a little. He really was bad at it. And the little bat was still worried, less, but still worried.

They pass through the small narrow valley, entering the vegetation next to it. Sleeping in the valley would be too easy for anyone to notice. Instead, they go to a clump of trees that was farther into the vegetation, not much, but a little far from the valley. It was good for spending the night without anyone cutting their heads off.

"Goliath, please get down." Lancelot gently orders the horse to stop.

When the horse does as it’s told, Squirrel quickly gets off the horse and walks a bit away from Lancelot, who leaves with a little more difficulty. As soon as he sets his feet on the ground, Lancelot begins to take off Goliath's saddle, feeling the boy's suspicious gaze on his back.

"It’s not completely darkened yet." He observes. "Go get some wood to make a bonfire. But don't go too far, stay close by where I can feel you.” He orders the boy, knowing well how scary it could be coming out of his mouth.

"And why should I obey you as your horse does?" The boy asks. It was a question with an obvious answer. But still, it was a scared and nervous child, he would have to take that into consideration.

"Because even though you don't like or trust me, I'm still your only and best chance of survive." He sees the child grit his teeth and asks for it once more. “Go quickly.”

With a loud sigh and a slightly quieter voice, almost sounding like a whisper, he asks to the tallest. "Can I get wood to make a pyre?" His gaze lowered a little too, it was a sentimental question.

"What is a pyre?" But of course a traitor like Lancelot wouldn't know what a pyre is. He would have to explain it to him.

"A pyre is like a bonfire. We do it when someone dies so that the soul passes to the green and doesn't get stuck here on earth. It is also for the occult to take your soul in peace with them, without you having a problem like an unresolved dilemma. That's a pyre. "

He surprisingly understood the quick and slightly scrambled explanation. It was a ritual for the souls of the dead people. The father would have called it witchcraft or satanic ritual. But he was no longer with his father and had to remember that.

"Look..." He starts by turning his gaze to the ground and then to the boy, trying to put the explanation into words. "You can't make a pyre today, too much smoke would attract people to us. But you can do that tomorrow when we're farther away from the camp and closer to your home.” He was hesitant, but he was also being sincere. He was once a child who wanted to perform a ritual for his dead familiars, but unlike Squirrel he had no freedom of choice. And Lancelot didn't want to repeat the experience he had with another child.

"Alright then, we do it tomorrow.” He agrees turning to run and grab some sticks.

After he left. Lancelot analysed his dislocated shoulder. The edges of the opening were covered in dried blood, but the bleeding wasn't too bad. It was controlled. He could solve it himself. It has always done so in fact. He turns to where Goliath's things are and picks up some bandages he was carrying with him.

He wraps a few bands around his ribs and shoulder and squeezes them tightly, just enough to stop the bleeding. As soon as he's done, he puts his arm on the trunk of a tree and forces it back into original place. Letting out only a few small low moans of pain.

It was better to have only a sore shoulder than a dislocated one. He could do things with his arm if it was only sore. With the pain he could use a bow and hunt for something to eat, since he would need both arms to do so. It was not something he couldn't handle.

Settling his shoulder, he puts more bands around it and his chest, holding it tighter in place, just to make sure nothing would move out of place again. The pain was just another old friend he had hugged for a long time, he could do anything whit it, even if it squeezed him tightly.

He picks up the bow and two of the arrows that were on Goliath's bank and goes only a few feet ahead when he sees two adult rabbits a little way away from each other. He put the two arrows into the bow, positioning his arms carefully so that nothing happens to his shoulder or ribs, putting his sore arm on the bow and the best to pull the arrows, using the bow horizontally.

As soon as he fired the first one, the second one would run. With that in mind, he takes a deep breath and releases the first arrow at the same speed as it releases the air from inside his aching lungs, and then traps it again. As the second one starts running, he shoots the second arrow, quickly letting out his breath again. Both rabbits shot in the eye.

"Wow!" Said Squirrel, seeing everything behind him. "Do you shoot two arrows at once?!" He asks him still with surprise on his face.

"I learned when I was younger." He says, picking up the rabbits and taking out the arrows stuck in their eyes.

"That's awesome!" He looks at the wood and then at Lancelot. "Is this enough? There's not a lot of fallen branches here. And the trees looks pretty strong. "

"Yes, that's enough. We just going to roast the rabbits with the fire. It's not very windy around here at dawn. Don't worry about it. He reassures the child. You can leave it there. "

Squirrel looked hesitant but excited. It was rare to see a child scared and excited at the same time. Especially in conditions like that, or when he's around. But again, he was not like other people, and that much was clear.

He was so anxious that he could not speak on his own. Lancelot would have to ask him, or it would get stuck in his throat.

"What is it?"

"I know how to slaughter a rabbit. I can prepare the rabbits and you can make the fire.” He proposes. “Anyway, making fire seems to be your specialty.” But of course he wouldn't say something so innocently without pricking it.

Lancelot thinks for a moment before answering.

"All right." He says, taking a dagger from one of his pants pockets and throwing it to the boy. Completely ignoring the provocation made.

Squirrel picks up the dagger, even though he almost dropped it. Lancelot hands the two rabbits and goes towards the sticks, picking them up from the ground and arranging them to make the fire.

Meanwhile, Squirrel begins to slaughter the first rabbit. First separating the paws from the arms and legs, ripping off the head and tail after. Then make a shallow, straight cut on the animal's back to remove the fur and skin, and then remove the excess apparent fat. Then making a deep cut in the belly to remove the organs, but keeping them in a cloth bag for the case it be needed. Repeating the same process with the second one.

He turns around to deliver the finished rabbits to Lancelot. He is surprised to see him making the fire with his hands. Not only that, but he seemed to be playing with him, as if he were a fussy little friend.

What struck him most was that the fire did not burn his hands. He passed it from side to side and twirled it in both hands, but the fire did not affect him. It looked like a life creature that chose who would and would not burn.

He was so engrossed in the movement that he only realized Lancelot was staring at him when the fire stopped moving.

"Is everything okay?" He asks and Squirrel nod in response. "Are you done?"

"Yes, I'm done. But you seem too entertained to finish your task.” He plays and gets closer to him, and Lancelot huffs amused in response.

"How you’re doing it?"

"Fire does not affect the Ashes Folk people. We can guide it instead.” He pauses. Maybe his words had run out, or maybe that should have been the end of the sentence. But the boy seemed to want to hear more, so he tries to think of something to say. "It's like a fussy little friend playing in our hands." And apparently fails. Letting the fire go on the small pile of wood right after to try to avoid saying anything again.

"It's beautiful. But how do you do that? And why aren't you burned? "

"I can't answer you that."

"Why not?"

He stops staring at him for a few seconds. "God, why can't this boy stop asking questions? And why does he want me to speak if he clearly hates me? Just stop talking to me! It's not that hard.” Lancelot thinks with a bit of anger. But he would still have to answer the boy's endless questions, so he would have to struggle to think of something.

"No one of the Ashes Folk is allowed to speak certain things to people of other folks. In fact, not even to speak to some other peoples are we allowed after we leave Britannia. But I don't think I can tell you that either.” Lancelot tries to explain, speaking with a little difficulty and looking into the fire.

"It’s all right. Gawain told me that the Ash Folk had taken their secrets with them when they left these lands. And that they would probably never return, and their secrets would be buried with them in their graves for the rest of eternity. "

"Your friend was right. We don't really have the planning to go back. But who knows, maybe it will change. "

"Why do you think that's will change now? I mean, it's been so long since you've been gone. "

Lancelot thinks for a moment before forcing himself to speak again. Looking between Squirrel and the fire.

"When we get out of here." He hesitates. "There were people who welcomed us and helped us in the other lands. The only one we've had an alliance with for decades." He try to explains, still thinking of the right way to continue counting without telling something wrong. "We were helped once when we were in a bad situation. They said we didn't have to, but we insisted on reciprocating. There were people here who helped us to escape, and others there who welcomed us and helped keep us alive."

He stopped again, and Squirrel began to wonder why he stopped and hesitated so much when he spoke. It seemed like a bad habit. Or maybe he just thought too much before speaking. But that was not a matter for now. Now he wanted to hear everything Lancelot had to say about his people, since it had been so long since there had been anyone to tell their history.

"If you, under any circumstances, needed help to escape, and a place to stay when you did. We would help, even after all. Without any doubt. "

"Why?" Asks the child, looking directly into Lancelot's eyes with immense hope carved on his face.

The eldest looks away at the ground, unable to look into the boy's face. "Because all fae are brothers. Hatred leads nowhere, resentment much less. Growing up is also about learning to forgive. Carrying a debt of grudge and hatred for centuries wouldn't change anything. It would only make everything worse."

He is silent for a second before speaking what been told to him so many times by the elders when he was a child. "All fae are brothers no matter what and that shouldn't be discussed. No matter the actions, we still all being brothers at the end of the day. Whether you like it or not. "

"It's a very beautiful thing to say. Even more when it came from a traitor mouth. Although I don't think those are your words.” Happiness appear briefly on his face.

He was a child tormented by the war he grew up in, but he was still a child. A hopeful child who did not let circumstances stop him from being happy, even if only for a few moments. And that was special. It was beautiful.

The smell of well-done meat began to waft through Lancelot's nose, warning him that the meat was ready to be eaten. He pulls the two rabbits out of the fire and hands one to Squirrel, who begins clumsily devouring it as soon as he catches it.

He looks at the rabbit in his hands and begins to eat as well, taking it piece by piece and eating slowly and politely. Very different from Squirrel who was almost embarrassed to see the way Lancelot was eating.

It was strange to start a meal without praying in thanksgiving first. That was how the paladins taught him. Whenever he went to eat something, he should thank God for letting him have food in his sinful hands, because he didn't deserve it. But he wasn't with the paladins. Although that's not the reason he didn't.

He knew very well that fae had no need to give thanks before eating, since everything would be repaid after death. He didn't pray because he didn't want to offend the boy in front of him. It was still hard for him to believe that he was beginning to develop a zeal and a small instinct for protection for a fae child. But he'd have to get used to it going forward. In the same way that he would have to get used to not praying before eating, and to the endless questions that would be asked for him.

"When you're done eating, go to sleep." He asks the child more than he commands.

"What about you?"

"I'm not sleepy, don't worry about me."

"Don't think I'm worried about you. Because I'm not.” Again a lie. This was looking more like a bad habit than a form of protection. And that was too bad for a kid like him.

They eat and finish the rest of the meal in silence. Squirrel finishes first and, despite not liking it, obeys what he was to do asked for. As soon as he finishes eating, he lies down in a place near some trees and sleeps.

Lancelot leaned back against a tree and lay awake for the rest of the night, thinking about what he would do the next day. Now he was a fugitive, and he was with a child who, though brave, was extremely reckless with his actions. The fae people had probably gone away to other lands. But a 'probably' is not a 'for sure', so maybe they hadn't boarded yet.

And if they had, as he himself knew, he would always have folk to call people and a place to call home who were waiting for him. Even if the boy didn't like it and wanted to go back to the others, they could locate or track them down and return him to their people. This was not a very difficult task. Not for people who had years of practice.

And looking at the boy, he didn't seem so annoying when he was sleeping. Maybe he could get used to him by his side for a while. While clinging to it would be a mistake, it wouldn't hurt for just a few moments.

But one thing was for sure. His smell was unbearable. Probably because he'd spent a lot of time with him and had never spent so much time with a fae so close before.

He would have to get used to it urgently if he wanted to be with others. He wanted to, but the probability of dying as soon as he arrived was very high, almost like a fact.

But he shouldn't think about it now. He already had a lot of problems, he didn't need to create more. Even though it really was very likely.

Pushing away the bad thoughts, he lifts his head to look at the stars dancing in the navy blue sky above his head. The night was beautiful. If he used a little of his imagination, he could smell a salty sea and beautiful whale sharks swimming among the constellations that shone brightly.

Always as beautiful as it could be. If he found some small white flowers, he could put them in Goliath's mane. Your steed would certainly look a lot prettier with them. Not that it needed to, because Goliath was beautiful by nature.

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