#no one in this series is willing to confront their feelings

[theshortjew2]

one thing i’m not seeing much of in the “jeremy uses sex as self-harm” conversation is that, i think, there’s some strategy on his part as to when and with whom he has sex. he has sex to distract himself from his inner turmoil, to chase the high that hooking up brings him. and i was thinking, okay, that tracks, but why not hook up with someone nicer? and i’ve thought of two core reasons:

1. he goes to people he knows will say yes

2. he goes to people he knows will say yes regardless of his well-being and who will not ask him what’s wrong/try to check in on him

jeremy does not want to confront his mental health struggles in general, but especially not in the moment of a crisis. while not the same, we know neil dissociated so hard at evermore that he didn’t even know how he got back home. jeremy, however, continuously forcefully rips his thoughts away from unpacking his relationship with his family. sex is one of the main ways he does this! so for there to be a possibility of a hook up saying “i won’t do this with you while you’re so worked up” or “what’s going on? talk to me” is far too scary a risk for him to even consider taking in his moments of weakness. he just wants to hook up with someone who will use his body like a means to an end. he wants to feel pleasure, numb the pain, and leave. he has a list of people who will say yes to him 10/10 times, regardless of how he’s doing. why find anyone new to screw around with? jeremy’s probably thinking, “does it even matter how he treats me if i just want to feel good physically? it’s not like he’s my boyfriend?”

do i think some of the sex stuff is self-harm because he actively seeks out people who mistreat him? for sure. but i think a lot of this is part of an elaborate strategy to avoid confronting his feelings.

personally very interested to see where jean might fit into this dynamic.

[hamliet]

Adolescence Review (by someone who used to work in child protection)

Recently watched Netflix's Adolescence and it was probably the best TV series I've seen. It's superbly acted (how was this Owen Cooper's first role?), fascinatingly filmed (every single episode is shot in one take), and brimming with empathy and nuance.

It also resonates personally with me. Once upon a time, I worked in child protection for a year. I've worked with kids like the main subject of the series, Jamie Miller. I can't and won't give details, but this series probably captures the heart-wrenching, soul-crushing reality of what it's like to work with kids who do horrific crimes.

Episode 1 is an excruciatingly detailed account of the dehumanization of arrest and imprisonment, and that's even with everyone doing their best to be kind to Jamie because he's a child (13, but looks younger). I guarantee you most cops don't try to be nice to most intakes.

There's really only one moment where a cop is cruel until the interrogation, and that's when Jamie's being strip-searched. The man conducting the search tells his father, who asks, in essence, "how would you feel if you were thirteen and strangers wanted to do this to you?" that "I was never accused of a crime." Well, bully for you, jerk-face.

Yet the viewer also understands the cruel necessity of having to conduct such a search, while also wanting to throw up. I do think a lot of the discourse around juvenile criminals resorts to "throw away the key" without considering what that means, and what humiliation and abuse kids go through when they're arrested (rightfully or wrongfully). The show following each and every motion and forcing the viewer to observe the father's face rather than the actual search forces the viewer to face their own thoughts on juvenile justice (especially because, at this point, you don't know whether Jamie did it).

But at the same time as Jamie is dehumanized in this way, you're confronted with the reality of how much he's dehumanized his victim at the end of the episode, when you see that he absolutely, 100% did do it. This thread of how Jamie dehumanizes women in particular continues in Episode 3.

Episode 2 is easily the weakest of the series. It's still great and offers, via a chaotic school with checked-out adults who can't care anymore and adults who do care completely overwhelmed and limited by their own humanity, a symbolic picture of what teenagers face. How can they learn when they aren't willing to listen? At the same time, how can they learn when no one is teaching? How can people teach when they are drowning themselves?

My criticism here is that the school appeared not exactly unrealistic, but also slightly hyperbolized. I think they could have stressed the struggles of trying to care when there's too much to care for even more than they did via an additional episode, an episode I think the second one almost introduced and then left dangling--one that focused on Katie's loved ones.

We hear about Katie's mom, and we meet Jade and see her rage over losing her best friend. We even see one detective voice how frustrating it is that Jamie will be remembered but Katie won't be. I wouldn't quite call this lip service because I do think the aim of the show isn't quite about this, but I do think the show should have spent an episode on Jade and/or Katie's family.

We know Katie isn't perfect as a victim, but that doesn't mean in any way that she deserved to be stabbed to death (or to have her pictures leaked). In fact, the show makes this emphatically clear. But I still think they missed a chance to make her more human, to show the loss through her loved ones.

If Episode 2 is the slightly-less-than-the-others episode, Episode 3 is the standout. The psychologist examines Jamie and he vacillates between inappropriately flirting with the psychologist to childishly requesting more hot chocolate to terrifyingly screaming in rage to sobbing in fear like a child in a nightmare to condescendingly mocking her like a rabid fan of Elon's would to desperately trying to wrench away the reality of what he did and trying to talk himself out of facing reality. And Owen Cooper, the child actor, makes all of this believable.

The reality is that the cruelty of what Jamie's done sinks in during Episode 3. He tells his psychologist that most other guys who have assaulted their victim, but he didn't, so he's better, right? And then he screams and sobs minutes later begging for someone to tell him that they like him, anyone. I found myself wanting to grab the psychologist and beg her to say that she "cared" (something I said in a similar moment during my work doing child protection). But I also understand why she didn't--not just professionally, but in terms of Jamie having to realize that he can't be entitled to people liking him when he's so cruel to women.

The psychologist also asks Jamie if he understands what death is. While he says all the right words to show he does, everyone over the age of 20 knows that he doesn't, and the show knows it too. I genuinely think that, until you get older, you cannot fully understand what it means for someone to be gone from this earth.

And therein lies the paradox of the show: Jamie doesn't fully understand what he's done. At the same time, what he's done has permanent, gruesome, irreversible consequences for everyone around him--and beyond that, because of the internet's influence beyond local boundaries.

Episode 4 is an episode I would call beautiful in a lot of ways, despite the fact that it's jagged and raw. We follow Jamie's family (dad, mom, and older sister) as they try to celebrate the dad's birthday about a year after the crime. We see how they're wrestling with the fallout and agony of knowing they raised Jamie--but they also raised Lisa, who is kind of an awesome kid.

And while Episode 1 actually has detectives musing that the parents might be abusive and that might explain it, this episode removes any doubts: Eddie and Amanda, Jamie's parents, are good parents. They are not perfect. Eddie has a temper. Amanda should have monitored his computer use more. But also? No parents are perfect. Arguably, the detective who interacts with his son in Episode 2 is a worse parent than they are. Yet his son is great, and Lisa is great.

There simply isn't a good explanation. Jamie was hurting, yes, but his pain can't be pinned down to a singular cause. The internet hurt him and gave him messages about masculinity that were harmful to say the least. But he also got those messages at school, even if he wasn't on the internet. And he got love at home, as well as some flawed interactions with his parents.

So who is responsible for Jamie's actions? Jamie himself. He chose.

Yet, the series also acknowledges that Jamie is a child, and he is not just "born bad." We see how other kids, like Jade punching Ryan, and Ryan loaning Jamie the knife, and Tommy joking around, and the bully leaking Katie's pictures--they have no comprehension of the extreme ramifications of their actions... but some of them also don't appear to care to learn. Normally, society would demand they care to learn, but that's not happening.

So then what? If society creates these kids, then what does society owe them? That's a question the series wants viewers to walk away contemplating, rather than giving a simple answer.

And there is some hope: Jamie deciding to plead guilty and accept responsibility. In that, we see how kids are supposed to be able to make mistakes and learn and grow. Yet Jamie's "mistake" is so shattering that Katie will never get to grow beyond it because of him, and to what degree Jamie can after pleading guilty isn't clear either. And in an era where their every action is captured online, can they ever really grow beyond?

I don't know that I have an answer to that. I've seen some kids I worked with grow up to be awesome. And I've lost touch with others, particularly those whose cases were more serious. There is no agony like seeing a child who has done something horrific and is suffering themselves and knowing you can't save them, and not knowing what the future holds for them. All you're left with is being able to hope that they'll learn to accept responsibility and grow, but in a system and society that makes that really impossible, is that even much of a hope?

[brunettemarionette]

𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 😈 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞.

💜femalemechanic!reader x sons of anarchy

🔮summary. When you first got hired at Teller-Morrow, you thought you'd just be turning wrenches and fixing bikes, but it quickly became obvious that you're the new favorite around here.

But when a customer gets too bold and puts hands on you, suddenly everyone is reminded you're untouchable when the guys step in.

🌙t.w. Sexual Harassment. Threats of Violence. Intimidation. Mild Language/Crude Remarks. Physical Confrontation

✨wc. 1.1k

This post is what inspired this little femalemechanic!reader series I'm going to do so reblogs, comments and feedback are very highly appreciated. Please feel free to send ideas my way or inbox me (even if just for anonymous feedback). Hope you all enjoy!

The sound of wrenches clinking and engines rumbling filled the air at Teller-Morrow, the familiar scent of oil and grease clinging to your skin like a second layer.

The shop had quickly become a second home to you, though you still didn't fully understand the club's inner workings. What you did understand, however, was that the Sons of Anarchy seemed to take an unusual interest in your presence.

At first, you chalked it up to them being friendly.

Jax, for instance, always seemed to be around when you needed something though, in hindsight, you never actually asked for help. "Need a hand with that, darlin'?" he'd offer, even if all you were doing was tightening a bolt. He'd lean against a nearby workbench, arms crossed, watching with an amused smirk.

It was nice that they were all so willing to help, even if it sometimes felt like you had too many supervisors at once.

Opie had a similar habit of being conveniently nearby. He never lingered as obviously as Jax, but he was always nearby. "Just grabbing this," he'd say, reaching for a tool, rag, or something completely unnecessary. He'd stick around longer than needed, watching with that unreadable expression of his.

Then there was Tig. He had no concept of personal space; that much was clear. "Damn, girl," he'd say, leaning way too close for someone who didn't need to be in your workspace. "You sure you weren't born to work on bikes? 'Cause I swear, watching you turn a wrench is the highlight of my day."

You'd roll your eyes, laughing it off. Tig was just like that with everyone.

Even Chibs and Juice had their own ways of hovering. Chibs would tease, calling you lass and finding ways to keep you engaged in conversation, while Juice, sweet but a little awkward tried to get your attention with random trivia or stupid bets with the other guys.

And then there was Happy, who'd just silently walk into your work area and take a seat, watching as you tinker, all while moving that toothpick around in his mouth before stalking off again wordlessly a while later.

It was all a little overwhelming, but you figured this was just how the Sons were—flirty, overprotective, and oddly competitive with each other. Besides, it was nice to feel included. You'd never had this kind of easy camaraderie before in this environment, and you weren't about to question it.

Gemma, on the other hand, saw right through them. She watched it all unfold with a knowing smirk, arms crossed like a mother watching her kids make fools of themselves.

Even Clay seemed amused by the way the guys found excuses to be around you. "Bunch of idiots," he muttered one afternoon, shaking his head as Jax and Juice argued over who got to hand you a wrench before Happy silently handed one to you.

Gemma chuckled. "Let 'em have their fun."

You, of course, remained blissfully unaware that you were the fun.

That all changed the day a customer got a little too comfortable.

You were at the front of the shop, wiping your hands on a rag as you explained the details of a tune-up to a man who had just brought in his car. He was middle-aged, maybe in his late forties, with a cocky smirk that immediately set off warning bells, not that you noticed.

Smiling politely, you handed him the clipboard, explaining the breakdown and keeping your tone professional. "So, with the labor and parts, you're looking at about—"

"You got a pretty face for a mechanic," He interrupted, looking you up and down.

You blinked partly in shock at his audacity and the other in surprise he was so bold in his words. "Uh, thanks?" You tried to steer the conversation back. You were used to men either hitting on you or speaking down to you. "So, if you're good with this, we can—"

"You sure you wanna be doing this?" He smirked, leaning in slightly. "Seems like a waste. A girl like you should be doing something... prettier. A pretty girl like yourself should have a guy taking care of her."

You felt your stomach twist, your grip tightening on the clipboard, trying not to yell at the customer. "I like what I do," you said, clearing your throat and trying to keep your voice even. "Now, if you're good with the estimate—"

He didn't let you finish as his hand slid to your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make your skin crawl. "Come on, sweetheart," he drawled. "maybe I could take you out sometime. Show you what it's like to be treated right. Show you how a real man—"

The hand was gone before you could react. One second, the guy was standing too close, and the next, he was stumbling backward, Jax's fist curled in his collar. The sound of the impact—fabric twisting, shoes scuffing against the concrete—was sharp, final.

Jax's voice was low, dangerous. "You touch her again, you're leavin' in a body bag."

The shop had gone silent. Tools were set down, and chairs scraped against the floor as Tig, Opie, and Juice moved in. Chibs cracked his knuckles, and Happy—who still hadn't said a word—was now staring the guy down with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

The customer, who had, up until now, been cocky and self-assured, realized too late that he had made a very big mistake. His hands shot up in surrender. "Hey, man, it was just a—"

"Get the hell out," Jax snapped, taking a step closer. "Now."

The man didn't hesitate. He turned and practically ran out of the shop, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process, leaving his car behind without a second thought. The moment he was gone, the tension snapped like a rubber band.

It took you a second to realize you were still holding the clipboard in a death grip. You exhaled, forcing yourself to loosen your fingers. Opie was suddenly in front of you; his usual stoic expression softened. "You okay?"

You blinked at him, still processing what just happened. "Uh, yeah. I mean... that was a little intense."

Tig grinned, but there was still something dangerous in his expression. "Welcome to the family, sweetheart. No one touches what's ours."

You frowned at that. "Ours?"

Jax smirked, running a hand through his hair like he hadn't just threatened a man's life. "Don't think too hard about it, darlin'."

You did think about it. For about two seconds. And then you shrugged, figuring it was just their way of saying they had your back, but one thing was clear—this wasn't just a job anymore. These guys weren't just co-workers. They were family, and they had just made one thing very clear.

You are untouchable.

[partoffantasy]

FOURTH WING MASTERLIST

angst = ❤️‍🩹 | fluff = 💕 | smut = 💥 | none = 😇

Liam Mairi

❤️‍🩹 Nightmares | reader wakes in the night to find Liam trapped in the nightmare that is his past, haunted by the execution of his parents.

❤️‍🩹💕 Fool's Heart Part 1 ❤️‍🩹 | reader has always brushed off Liam’s flirting, knowing he never stays with one girl for long—but when she finally admits to herself that she wants more, she finds him with someone else. Heartbroken, she avoids him until he confronts her. Part 2 ❤️‍🩹💕 | Liam, overwhelmed with guilt for using other girls to distract himself from his feelings for reader, desperately seeks her out after she walks away from him in class to make everything right.

💥 Massage | after days of grueling extra training under Xaden’s command, Liam is sore and aching all over. When he complains about his back pain, reader takes matters into her own hands.

💕 Love Letters | while Liam is away on a mission, he leaves behind a series of handwritten notes for reader. As she finds them hidden in her daily routine, they become her anchor, a reminder that no distance can truly separate them.

💕 Dancing in the Rain | caught in a downpour, reader drags Liam into the rain, fulfilling a childhood dream of dancing with someone she loves.

💥 Playing Dirty | when their latest round of flirtation turns into something more, reader finds herself on the losing end for the first time. Because Liam isn’t just playing anymore. And when he finally makes his move, she realizes—maybe she never stood a chance to begin with.

❤️‍🩹 Between Heartbeats | reader has always had Liam by her side, but it takes almost losing him for her to realize what he truly means to her. As she fights to keep him alive, she’s forced to face her own feelings—before time runs out for both of them.

Garrick Tavis

💥 A Bet Well Lost | What started as a playful bet between Garrick and Y/N quickly turns into an intense game of desire, neither willing to break first—until the tension becomes unbearable.

❤️‍🩹 Broken | Garrick finds himself frantic when reader is taken for the brutal Rider Survival Course (RSC), and after four agonizing days, he finally sees her again—bruised, battered, and barely conscious.

😇💥 Tension and Takedowns Part 1 😇 | when her friends suggest she find someone to release her tension, reader finds herself watching Garrick spar, and her friends waste no time teasing her about it. But when she’s forced to face Garrick in the ring, the heat between them intensifies. Part 2 💥 | Y/N, unable to sleep, trains in the gym late at night, trying to push thoughts of Garrick from her mind. Frustrated and overheated, she decides to use the men’s showers for their stronger water pressure, thinking no one will be there. However, Garrick walks in, and the tension between them becomes unbearable.

Aaric Graycastle / Cam Tauri

💥 No Strings Attached | Y/N and Aaric share a complicated, no-strings-attached arrangement that mostly works—until it doesn't.

💕 Drunk on Trouble | Aaric finds himself unwillingly roped into reader’s drunken antics—especially when she decides he’s the perfect person to cling to for the night.

💕 Hold Me Closer | Aaric casually pulls Y/N away from Sloane, masking his need for affection behind indifference. But as he holds her close, she knows the truth—his father never taught him warmth, and now he craves it more than he’ll ever admit.

💕 Accidental Sleepover Part 1 💕 | After an exhausting late-night study session, Y/N accidentally falls asleep on Aaric, only to wake up tangled in his arms, much to his smug amusement. Part 2 💕 | reader tries to pretend nothing happened after that night in the archives, but Aaric is determined to keep reminding her of their intimate "study session," pushing her buttons every chance he gets.

😇 Echoes of the Inevitable | during tense negotiations on the Isles, reader witnesses a side of Aaric she never expected—commanding, brilliant, and dangerously compelling.

❤️‍🩹 When the Dawn Fades | Aaric’s signet has always warned him of the inevitable, but when the time comes, saying goodbye to the love of his life proves to be the hardest part.

Bodhi Durran

❤️‍🩹 When Words Hurt | after a heated argument shatters their year-long relationship, Y/N isolates herself in guilt and confusion, while Bodhi struggles with the depth of the pain she caused.

😇 Self Control | reader relentlessly tests Bodhi’s self-control, teasing him with subtle touches and close encounters, determined to make him break.

Dain Aetos

❤️‍🩹 A Chance Too Late | Dain Aetos spent years convincing himself that pushing Y/N away was the right thing to do—until he saw her moving on with someone else and realized too late that he was losing the only person who had ever truly mattered.

[leejenowrld]

‘back to you’ — series (completed)

one tree hill inspired, 696k words

character profiles | playlist | fic tag | moodboards

wanna see more about this world? check out this → 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐋 + 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐋

synopsis — jeno forces his way into your life, first by pushing into one of your college projects and then refusing to leave. as mark’s best friend, you’ve always hated jeno—arrogant, reckless, and everything mark isn’t. but what starts as reluctant tolerance spirals into a secret affair fueled by lust, obsession, and the thrill of keeping it hidden. as lies and jealousy pile up, your connection becomes a dangerous game that pushes you to confront how far you’re willing to go—and how much you’re willing to lose—for the one person you swore you’d never fall for.

[ PART 1 ] — smut, fluff, angst

word count - 58k words

synopsis - jeno forces his way into your life, first by pushing into one of your college projects and then refusing to leave. as mark’s best friend, you’ve always hated jeno—arrogant, reckless, and everything mark isn’t. but what starts as reluctant tolerance spirals into a secret affair fueled by lust, obsession, and the thrill of keeping it hidden. as lies and jealousy pile up, your connection becomes a dangerous game that pushes you to confront how far you’re willing to go—and how much you’re willing to lose—for the one person you swore you’d never fall for.

[PART 2] — smut, fluff; angst

word count — 39k words

synopsis — you can’t stop thinking about that heated night you shared with jeno. the memory clings to you, leaving you on edge, but when you realize you want him too badly to pretend otherwise, you strike a deal with him—opening the door to secret motel stays and late-night dates. the more time you spend wrapped up in each other, the heavier your guilt grows. every move feels risky, especially as you juggle the need for jeno with the need to keep everything hidden.

[PART 3] — smut, fluff, angst

word count — 58k words

synopsis — jeno has become your eclipse, a quiet, breathtaking phenomenon that darkened everything else and left you transfixed. your nights with jeno turn more electric by the day—heated motel sessions, stolen kisses in empty hallways, and whispered confessions as you lie breathless beside him. the secrecy only fuels the tension, each shared touch brighter and more addictive than the last. but with every secret call or coded text, a sharper guilt settles in your chest. you juggle the thrill of being wanted so deeply with the dread of getting caught—each risky step edging you both toward a moment that could unravel everything. and still, you go back for more.

[PART 4] — smut, fluff, angst

word count — 65k words

synopsis — a night that was never supposed to mean anything changes everything. what starts as reckless indulgence—karina between you, jeno behind you, the lines blurring too fast—becomes something impossible to ignore. you tell yourself it’s nothing, just a mistake, but the truth is harder to bury. you’re getting too close to him, and the closer you get, the more dangerous it becomes. lies stack on top of each other, deception coils tight around your ribs, and jeno’s own self-destruction threatens to take you down with him. whatever this is, whatever it was becoming, it was never built to last.

part four continuation

[PART 5] — smut, fluff, angst

word count — 43k words

synopsis — the fallout from the bar backs you and jeno into a corner, forcing everything to unravel faster than you can control. just when the lines blur and restraint shatters, when old habits become impossible to break, you’re forced to confront a demon—but you can’t let him save you. not when the real threat has finally stepped out of the shadows, pulling the strings tighter, making sure there’s only one way this ends, and it’s not with jeno by your side.

[PART 6] — smut, fluff, angst

word count — 47k words

synopsis — after the breakup, you throw yourself into silence and strategy, unraveling beneath the weight of secrets you can’t tell and love you can’t forget. jeno spirals in the opposite direction, reckless and numb, chasing anything that doesn’t remind him of you—only to find that everything does. a fantasy boy draft, meant to unify the fractured cheer squad, becomes the excuse that pulls you back into jeno’s bed, and then his arms and then onto his cock, again and again, until you can’t remember what it felt like not to crave him. but love built on a game is still a game, and the rules keep changing.

[PART 7] — smut, fluff, angst

word count — 49k words

synopsis — an unlikely alliance throws everything off balance, and what starts as quiet retaliation spirals into an expose that shakes the campus to its core. reputations fracture, alliances crumble, and the pressure of the state championships forces every hidden crack into the light. you tell yourself it’s just the game, but jeno’s fall is faster than anyone saw coming, and as the final closes in, so does the weight of everything left unsaid. you built this together, but you can’t outrun the ruin you made. no matter how far you go, it all comes back to you.

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄

[PART 8] — smut, fluff, angst,

word count — 52k words

synopsis — since the state championships, everything that once burned bright has settled into smoke, memories warped, meanings changed, distance stretched thin across months of silence and separate lives. jeno’s not the same, and neither are you, not in the places that matter most. whatever you were to each other back then has blistered, scarred, grown teeth and now it bares them in silence. everyone’s scattered, tucked into cities like secrets you don’t say out loud: then comes the wedding…

[PART 9] — smut, fluff, angst

word count — 72k

synopsis — the wedding day finally arrives, lavish and luminous, yet beneath every shimmering surface lies the unshakable shadow of past heartbreak and unresolved longing. you and Jeno stand together amid the elegance, outwardly composed, but internally haunted by ghosts of choices left unspoken and wounds never healed. tension simmers dangerously between you both, manifesting in lingering gazes and heated silences, culminating in an intense encounter that shatters the facade of control, blurring the line between love and loss. but as night descends, a chilling event fractures the celebrations, forcing you both to confront not only your desires but also the painful secrets and betrayals buried beneath the day’s shimmering veneer.

[PART 10] — smut, fluff, angst

word count — 93k words

synopsis — after taeyong’s death, jeno and those closest to him are each haunted by memories and ghosts, real and imagined, that refuse to let them move on. grief shadows every moment, but when an unexpected night brings everyone all together, the lines between past and present blur, and everything changes in ways no one could have foreseen. in the midst of it, you and jeno find yourselves pulled back into each other’s orbit, unable to escape the unfinished story between you.

part 10 continuation

[PART 11] — smut, fluff, angst (finale)

word count — 120k words

synopsis — you and jeno have gone through the world and back—torn apart by grief, rebuilt through love, shattered by circumstance, stitched together by choice. from false promises to wedding vows, betrayal to forgiveness, you’ve weathered heartbreak, distance, desire, and the brutal unraveling of who you thought you were, burning through every version of yourselves just to find your way back to you. but with a baby blooming beneath your ribs and everything you once only dreamed of now resting in your hands, the question remains, can the future you built from ashes survive the gravity of the past? or will the path that always led you home begin to blur now that you’ve finally arrived?

part 11 continuation

[thebarneschronicles]

The Barnes Chronicles Masterlist

Welcome to The Barnes Chronicles Masterlist!

Hi there! I’m so glad you’ve found your way to my little corner of the internet. Here, you’ll find all of my writing for Bucky Barnes stories, conveniently organized in one place. Whether you're in the mood for fluff, angst, or something a little spicier, I hope you’ll find something that speaks to you.

I also accept requests! If you’ve got an idea for a fic, feel free to send it my way— I'm always looking for new ideas to bring to life. Thank you for all the love and support; your reblogs, comments, and likes mean the world to me!

Now, go ahead and explore The Barnes Chronicles. 💙

ONE SHOTS The Edge of Patience

Word Count: 1.8k

You’re no stranger to the overprotective nature of your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes. After a heated argument about wanting to join him and Sam on their missions, you knowingly push his buttons until his patience snaps. What starts as a battle of wills turns into a raw, unrestrained encounter—punishing, heated, and entirely irresistible.

A Quiet Escape

Word Count: 6.3k

During a holiday stay at Clint Barton’s home, you’ve been desperately trying to steal a moment alone with Bucky—your super-soldier boyfriend—but the Avengers are constantly interrupting. Between Clint’s kids, Steve’s “bromantic” grocery runs, and Nat pulling Bucky into sparring sessions, it feels like you’re constantly fighting for his attention. Frustration finally boils over when you confront Bucky about your lack of privacy, only to discover he’s just as eager for some alone time as you are - and willing to do anything to get it.

Stuck With Me Word Count: 3.3k When Bucky returns home after a mission, his unexpected transformation leaves you speechless and you can’t help but tease him about it. As playful banter shifts to deep, tender moments, your desire and frustration collide in an encounter that leaves you breathless, unable to resist the pull of a love that refuses to age. Nine Lives Word Count: 9.4k

Bucky Barnes drives you insane—in every possible way. The bickering, the reckless plans, the way he smirks like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. But when a mission goes sideways, leaving you both bloodied and too close for comfort, the tension between you ignites into something impossible to ignore.

You can keep pretending. Keep fighting him. But Bucky isn’t one to back down—especially when he knows you don’t really want him to.

Out of Depth, Into You

Word Count: 8.3k

Bucky Barnes was supposed to get in and out. Simple. Clean. But Hydra had other plans.

An ambush leaves him broken, bleeding, and barely standing—and you’re the only thing keeping him upright. Trapped in a safehouse, patching him up with shaking hands, you realize the truth you’ve been avoiding: you almost lost him. And that scares you more than anything.

Because Bucky isn’t just your mission partner. He’s yours.

And maybe… just maybe, he’s known it all along. --

SERIES

Closer To Home Series A shared universe of Bucky Barnes x Female Reader stories exploring love, trust, and the journey of healing.

As you settle into your new role as the team’s “girl in the chair,” helping Sam and Bucky with their missions, you find yourself increasingly drawn to Bucky's intense presence. His brooding silence is matched only by his watchful eyes, and despite his gruff exterior, your kindness begins to chip away at his walls. When Bucky insists on walking you home one night, clyou chalk it up to his old-fashioned sense of duty and think nothing of it. But as the night unfolds, you realize there’s far more behind his actions than just good manners, and your growing feelings for him may not be as hidden as you think. Closer To Home Closer To Home II Closer To Home III

Closer To Home IV Closer To Home V Closer To Home VI

CTH Blurbs Navigating the Ordinary What starts as a lunch invitation quickly spirals into an unexpected errand to the local CVS, where playful banter about modern absurdities and a deep dive into his dating history lead to unexpected revelations. For Science Science demands answers. And when your boyfriend happens to be a genetically enhanced super soldier, well… some questions are simply too intriguing to ignore.

[hehe-69]

Jacob Black x Reader

“His love could burn against me like a bonfire.”-Levellan Dragon Age

Part 1 series is completed

Warnings for the series: Lil bit if cursing, tooth rotting fluff and ofc angst!

Reader is described as a more understanding and patient person in serious situations, but they often use sarcastic and jokes as a coping mechanism. They cannot read the room, but don’t worry I will try to save you from cringing. Also they act like a normal person having to put up with all the BS of discovering vampires and werewolves exist. (I cannot save you from my horrendous writing and spelling)

They are not physically described except for being shorter the Jacob.

Also for plot purposes your dad dies when you were 7. Ties into you and Jacob’s relationship, you can change it in your mind to be a close family friend instead of you want. (Side characters man they die like gold fish)

Summery: Reader grew up in Forks and is willing to be whatever Jacob needs them to be, a friend, someone to confide in, anything even though they wished so badly to be something more.

But what happens when they discover that Jacob Black has been ghosting them and joined Sam’s infamous cult.

Reader’s patience is put to the test as they struggle to come to terms with their new reality in which vampires and werewolves actually exist and that they may never be anything more the second best.

In this story, Jacob Black gets the love he deserves. And you get to see how deeply and lovingly devoted Jacob really is when he’s in love.

The writing gets better I promise

This fic is completed, there are 17 parts.

————

Most people who lived in Forks Washington could not stand the cold wet weather, but you thrived off of it. The rain and mist made the town feel like something out of a book or even a movie, though some days you could do without the cold.

Today was one such day. Bleak and cold, depressing, so on. Unfortunately for you, today’s weather was only foreshadowing the frustrating forecast of the next couple months of your life.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” You mumble out in disbelief, as you sat wide eyed at the scene before you. Jacob Black, the boy who was supposed to be sicker than a dog on his death bed with mono, was cliff diving with Sam and his cult. All his long hair was cut and you could faintly make out a tattoo on his right shoulder, the same tattoo you and him had spent way too many hours picking apart.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it all as you watched him jokingly push one of the cult members, he was laughing and joking around with them while you had spent weeks debating whether or not you should start writing a funeral speech for Jacob Black. “I’m actually going to kill him!” You say through clenched teeth, as you grab out your phone and start looking for Bella Swan’s number.

“Hello?” Bella’s voice calls throw your phone, laced with confusion due to the fact you haven’t spoken since her isolation.

“Did you know about Jacob joining Sam’s cult?” You hiss out.

“What!” Bella exclaimed, “there’s no way Jacob would’ve done that!”

“Yeah that’s what I would’ve said 5 minutes ago except for the fact that I just saw him cliff diving with them on my way back from school!” Putting your vehicle back into drive you continue your drive home.

“CLIFF DIVING! Me and him were just making fun of them for doing that a 3 weeks ago!” You could faintly make out the sound of Bella slamming one of her house doors shut.

“What do you mean 3 weeks ago?! I thought he had mono!” Now you were starting to get pissed.

“He said he got mono after we went to the movies together.” Aka when you third wheeled as Jacob and a blond boy with a squeamish stomach fought over Bella. You almost wanted to throw up at the memory of listing the the blond gagging. “Well apparently he got better real fucking fast! I thought I was going to have to start with planing his funeral.”

“No kidding” Bella laughed out. “I’m headed to your house. You and me are going to confront him about this together!”

“Bella-“ before you could even finish saying your name she hung up on you. “For fucks sake cant people have normal conversations on the phone for once!” You say under your breath.

—————

About 20 minutes after pulling into your driveway Bella’s Orange Truck pulled up. And you hopped right in.

On the way to Jacob’s house Bella explained to you that she had confronted Jacob before in person and he told her to go away and stay away, along with a whole lot of cryptic bullshit.

“Watch he’s gonna tell us he’s a vampire or something.” You joke, Bella didn’t laugh infact she started to get pale at the thought.

“God I hope not.” She says it as if she’s met one before.

You side eye her. “Bella that was a joke…I wasn’t being serious.”

“Oh,” she laugh out nervously. “Yeah I knew that” she does that head, blinking thing she does when she’s nervous. “I was joking too.”

“Right.” You begin to wonder what effect her isolation has had on her sanity as you stare out the window. “Vampires being real would explain why your boyfriend is so horrifically pale.” You chuckle at the thought, and glance at Bella…who is significantly more pale.

You decided that you really did not want to know, vampires aren’t real…right?

—————

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!!!” You scream out as a 6 fucking foot wolf who was once Paul??? Is about to rip you and Bella apart.

(10 minutes earlier)

“Do you think he’s home?” You ask as Bella parks her truck and kills the engine.

“Billy will tell us he’s not home, but we’re not leaving until we’ve searched that entire house for him.” Bella hisses as she opens her door and starts walking to the porch of Billy Black’s house.

“Well we won’t be looking long considering Jacob is built like a tank and is over 6 feet.” You mumble to yourself.

“He’s not here.” You hear Billy tell Bella, he obviously lying to you. Billy Black is a horrible lier.

“Really Billy?” You exasperate “When are you going to learn that lying is not exactly your strong suit.”

Billy sighs and rolls out of the way as Bella opens the screen door and makes a b-line for Jacob’s room.

“Sorry Billy.” You mutter out as you follow behind Bella. You faintly hear Billy talking to himself saying that he’s getting to old for this shit. Which you would’ve let yourself chuckle at if you hadn’t seen Jacob laying in his bed passed out.

“Oh for-REALLY!” You exclaimed.

“Shhh!!” Bella hushed you and pointed towards the tree line behind Billy’s house, where Sam and his cult were walking out of the woods. “If we want answers I say we talk to the ring leader.”

—————

Bella was on a mission as she started matching her way towards the group of boys. You were right behind but you could help but get the nagging feeling that maybe this wasn’t going to end well.

“What did you do!” Bella starts shouting. “What did you do to him?!” She exclaimed as she literally pushes Sam.

“Bella chill out!” You hiss, you were not about to get into a fight just cause she starts getting aggressive.

“No I’m not going to chill out I’m gonna get some freaking answers.” Bella shoots back at you. Why she doesn’t cuss like a normal teen you’ll never understand.

“He didn’t want this!” She shouts, and immediately after that Paul starts getting defensive.

“What did we do?!” He starts “what did he do?! Hm! What did he tell you?!”

“Okay everyone just calm down.” Sam says trying to defuse the situation.

“He hasn’t told us anything!” You rush out.

“Yeah because he’s scared of you!” Bella all but hisses. Not what you were going for but what the hell.

They all start to laugh at that. “Okay what’s-BELLA!”

Bella slapped Paul in the face. Bella Swan, shy Bells Slaped PAUL LAHOTE in the face. And his boy is LIVID.

“Haha too late now.” You hear one of the boys say, you too focused on the fact that Paul looks like he’s going to kill the both of you as Sam tells you and Bella to get back.

Paul begins to growl and is actually fuming. You grab Bella and put her behind you as you start back peddling. “What the fuck!” You whisper to yourself.

And suddenly you hear the sound of clothes ripping as Paul’s body contorted into a the shape of a GIGANTIC FUCKING WOLF.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS GOING ON!!!” You scream as a OVER SIX FUCKING FEET WOLF who was once Paul is about to tare you and Bella apart.

“RUN!” Bella yells and starts booking it towards Billie’s house.

“YOUVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME RIGHT NOW!” You yell as you start sprinting as fast as you can right on Bella’s heels. You didn’t even slap him and you’re the one that’s going to die because you wanted to protect your friend? HOW DO YOU PROTECT SOMEONE FROM A OVER SIX FOOT PISSED OFF WOLF.

As you and Bella are running Jacob jumps over the railing of his house and starts running towards you. “Bella!” He yells and then his eyes flicker to you and widen and he begins to sprint toward the two of you.

“JACOB RUN!” Bella yells as she sprints.

“SERIOUSLY JAKE TURN THE FUCK AROUND AND RUN!!!!” You scream at him. Just as Bella is about to run into Jake he jumps over the both of you and turns into a fucking wolf too???!!!

You and Bella are both on the ground now and you turn to look at her to see if she’s seeing what you are. And the look on her face confirms it. You look back to see a reddish brown wolf who is apparently Jacob fight a silver wolf who is Paul.

You feel like you’re having a fever dream no way in hell is this actually happening. “IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!” You look to Bella again who looks horrified and suddenly you wish you were back home taking nap.

Paul and Jacob take their fight into the woods and Sam tells Embry and Jared to take you to Emilie’s place.

“Guess the wolfs out of the bag!” Embry jokes, which you would’ve found kinda funny if it weren’t for the fact that your would was falling apart.

“Oh my God,” you chuckle out laying down on the ground with your hands on your head. “This is it…I’ve lost my goddamn mind.” You mutter to yourself and the two boys laugh at you.

“This is just the start better buckle up, it’s going to be a crazy ride.” Embry teases as he helps you up.

“I think I’m gonna pass out.” You breathe out as you feel light headed. “How are you so calm right now!” You ask Bella.

“Well uh,” she starts off awkwardly. “Edward is kind of ummm…” she doesn’t meet your eye.

You feel your stomach drop, all your teasing and jokes, all the times you said ‘maybe his a vampire’ AS A JOKE. You were right?!

“Shut the fuck up!” You say as you start to hyper ventilating. “Hey hey breath!” Embry says trying to calm you down.

“YOUR BOYFRIEND IS A FUCKING VAMPIRE AND YOU LET ME GO TO HIS FUCKING HOUSE WITH YOU!!!!” It was too much! two boys you’ve know all your life could turn into wolves! And your best friend’s boyfriend was a blood sucking vampire! And you have been to his fucking house, A DEN OF VAMPS.

“WHAT THE FUCK BELLA!!” You yell as you lose your shit. “Dude come on just breathe it’s not that deep!” Embry says. You start to slow your breathing down.

“All of you better start explaining before I start swinging!” You state as soon as you and Bella load up in her truck with the two boys.

“Yeah sure more violence, cause that worked so well last time!” Jared rolls his eyes at Embry. “Dude read the cab.”

“There’s no way you just said that with a straight face.” Jared reply’s and Embry laughs out as he starts the truck and they begin fighting back and forth.

You sigh out and turn your head towards Bella. “Start talking asshole!” Hiss at her as she smiles apologetically.

———————

This is basically a pilot of sorts, there will be more parts and I pinky promise I will not abandon this story.

Also feel free to comment anything or let me know if you want to see more. And thank you for making it this far. I was mainly trying to do like if a normal person was in twilight and experienced all this.

I promise my writing will get better this is more of a how you find out wolves and vampires exist and we’ve all seen this scene before I’m not going to bore you with details

Part two

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Judex, Judicum, Infantem - Chapter 13

(Eventual)Reader x Matt Murdock x Frank Castle

previous chapter | next chapter | series masterlist | my masterlist

summary: Matt begins to make up for the hurt he's caused and the two of you finally get a chance to reconnect.

warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio) AFAB Reader. Pregnancy. No use of Y/N. P in V, oral (fem receiving), pregnancy sex, Matt Murdock being a mushy gushy romantic. Mention of death and wills (Don't worry, no one is dying).

notes: There is something in this chapter that many a reader might interpret as foreshadowing to something bad. It is not, I promise. I do not do angst without happy endings. This story will end happy for everyone I PROMISE (except maybe Fisk, that remains to be seen)! So please don't freak. I'm also sorry, I feel like my ability to write smut is trash so I overshoot and try too hard and make it trash but in a different way.

w/c: 5,560

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on Tumblr to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platforms I currently post on are Tumblr and AO3. Thanks*

If Matt came to check on you when he got back, you didn’t remember it. Heavenly silk sheets lulled you into a deep slumber as soon as you crawled underneath them and even an earthquake with the epicenter in midtown probably couldn’t have woken you. In fact, the only evidence Matt had come home at all was the crumpled bedding on the floor of the spare room, sticking to his self inflicted penance. He was up and to the office by the time you woke to your alarm and he sent a quick text to let you know he’d be staying late tonight because the Madison case was still taking all his time. Other than that, it was almost like he didn’t exist.

In fact, the next few days followed in the same way— Matt would be gone by the time you were up for work, he’d return just as you were getting to bed, change into the Daredevil suit and then be gone not even ten minutes later. All that was said between the two of you were quick greetings and brief catchups. Even without his nightly activities, you knew he was in the trenches with the Madison case. Though whether that was the actual truth or he was just using it as an excuse to avoid being home with you and Frank, you weren’t sure.

After only two more days of resting on your couch and reading through pretty much your entire mystery novel collection, Frank was antsy. Grunting more as he fixed his coffee, staying up later and later each evening; his general demeanor of grumpiness cast a cloud in the apartment. Evenings were spent mostly silently in each others’ orbit, wading through the swamp of awkwardness as he only opened up to you in small amounts each time you spoke. He was, as you remembered him always being before, resistant to letting you in.

So when you were getting ready for work and he appeared in the doorframe of your bedroom— dark jeans crumpled at the bottom to accommodate for his heavy boots, black hoodie tucked into his waistband with no sign of a shirt underneath and curly long hair pushed neatly back— you weren’t surprised when he said

“I’m gonna stay tonight, but then I gotta get goin’ tomorrow morning.”

Even though you expected it, it didn’t break your heart any less that he’d be gone again for who knew how long. At least you had his promise to return to cling to.

With you and Matt still existing as passing ships in the night, both avoiding confronting how to move forward while hurt and betrayal plagued the few minutes a day you shared, you were disappointed that Frank’s departure meant you would be spending many an evening alone for the foreseeable future.

Before the two of them, which was not that long ago, you would have been excited to have an evening to yourself; often opting to spend it binge watching your favorite reality show or taking a nice long bath or enjoying some wine.

But how quickly life had changed and you found yourself most comfortable with their company, despite all the drama surrounding it.

That evening you and Frank sat at the kitchen island eating dinner, with you trying to distract yourself from the heavy feeling in your gut about him leaving in the morning by avoiding his gaze and making quiet small talk. The lock on the front door opened with a click and your head shot up just in time to watch as Matt entered the apartment. He had not been home this early all week.

“Matty!” you greeted him with excitement

He looked handsome as ever, white dress shirt rolled up to show his toned forearms and hair neatly styled in a way that looked tuggable. But behind the appearance of a smartly put together lawyer was definitive tiredness. You noticed the way his shoulders slouched lower than usual and how the smile he shot you tightened as he walked towards the kitchen, sensing your relief at seeing him home in the way you exhaled.

He set his briefcase on the island, coming over to give you a quick kiss and greeting Frank with a nod.

“I made dinner sweetheart, if you have the time.” you said

“I’d love some, yeah.” he replied, holding up his hand to stop you from helping “In a minute though, I have something else first.”

You bit your lip, wondering what else he could possibly try and juggle at this point.

“I didn’t expect you to be home by now, Madison case getting better?” you asked

“No, not even close,” he replied, pulling a stack of papers from his bag and setting them in front of you and Frank “but this was more important. Karen finished drafting them this afternoon.”

You pulled the documents closer, eyes roaming over the crisp white paper with sharp black ink in a serif font; the heading written in bold on top of the page.

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT

Those were not at all the words you expected to read nor were you expecting to see your full legal name underneath them.

“Matt, what the hell is this?”

“Protection.” he reassured “I was thinking about Frank.”

“M’ flattered.” Frank replied sarcastically, eyes also following the words in front of him

Matt ignored the commentary and continued.

“If I’m going on the birth certificate, Frank won’t have any rights to her if something were to happen to the two of us. I thought of this as a way to fix that.”

You read on, skimming each paragraph and noting phrases mentioning guardianship in the instance of the passing of one or both parents.

“We’ll have to modify it once she’s born and we have a legal name for her on file with the county.”

You shuffled through the pages, seeing the same document underneath with Matt’s full name in place of yours, a line of braille under each statement; and then a third and fourth copy with both Frank’s name and his alias.

“And I had to make two for each of us, one with Frank’s real and fake names. Wills don’t get filed until the person they’re about dies, so depending on the circumstances when one of us or both of us goes, whoever is left can decide the best course of action regarding having Frank’s name being on a legal document. And usually, the county and state don’t even look at the will’s contents unless there is a dispute, so Frank’s name shouldn’t raise any red flags.”

Were things really that bad out on the streets? Was this serial killer Angela and Matt found so concerning that all three of you needed to consider arrangements in the instance of your deaths? You looked at Frank, trying to read what he was feeling about this in the way his brows knit together as he read over your shoulder. Matt tuned into the way your heart raced as you took in all the legal jargon and tried to process.

“Sweetheart, hey,” he sat beside you, running a comforting hand along your arm “This is not me saying any of us are in danger or going to go too soon. This is about making sure Frank is equally in this as me and our daughter is protected. I get to be her legal father, so he deserves to have some type of legal claim over her too. If something happens to either of us, or both of us, no one can take her away and Frank won’t have to fight for her. And if we find out genetically she’s his, I’m covered too.”

This wasn’t him fear mongering, it was him making amends. It was his showing that he meant it when he said he was okay with Frank being in both her and your lives. You asked him for action to make up for the lies and he delivered. In the most lawyer way possible.

“Thank you, Matt.” Frank gruffly whispered, nodding as he read the document again

Not Red, not Murdock.

Matt.

“Of course, Frank. And I’m sorry. To both of you. I hope this helps make up for everything, even if just a little.”

Matt was not only apologizing to you, but to Frank as well. Was that them getting along? Or at least Matt willing to back down and budge and let Frank be part of this life a little? Shit, you’d have to get angry with him more often.

“Also,” Matt continued “I’ve thought about it. I want to be Colin Firth.”

“What?” you asked confused

“If Frank gets to be Pierce Brosnan.”

Oh right, Mamma Mia.

Maybe it was knowing that Frank would be leaving in the morning or maybe it was that you and Matt had arrived to a better place, but for whatever reason you absolutely couldn’t sleep. It was nearly 2AM and despite how long of a week it had been, there you were laying in bed with nothing to do but stare at the ceiling.

You had gotten up every so often, softly making your way through the living room to watch as Frank breathed heavily while he slumbered on the sofa. You’d be lying if you said you were totally cool with his departing so soon. You’d been vaguely nauseous all day and you had to wonder if it was anxiety at all the unknowns that still lingered when it came to Frank.

It couldn’t have even been ten minutes later when you heard the distinct slide of the balcony door and listened to Matt quietly making his way through the apartment. You hopped out of bed and headed over to the bathroom just in time to catch him unzipping the suit and stripping out of it.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, having heard you laying awake from the last block

“Can’t sleep.”

Your eyes ran along his body, wincing at the collection of bruises you saw all over his flesh.

“Trust me, I’ve been in much worse shape before.” he reassured

With a shaky hand, you reached out to run a hand down his chest, observing his wounds closer.

“Matt, what happened?”

“Found the serial killer.”

“And he kicked your ass.” you replied

“Yeah. He’s good. He got away.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The police raided his hideout after I chased him off. I got close enough to hear what they know. He’s a street artist by the name of Muse.”

“Muse? Think I’ve seen some of his stuff around town.”

“Yeah, well he’s not just into graffiti. I won’t give you the specifics though, it’s not pleasant.”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that he insisted on coddling you when you didn’t need it.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Matt said “But sweetheart, you should get to bed.”

The circles under Matt’s eyes were almost as dark as the bruises that littered his body. As he spoke his voice sounded deflated, like he was hanging on by a thread and trying his best not to snap.

“You should too, how much sleep have you gotten exactly this week?” you asked

“Maybe gotten two hours each night if I’ve been lucky.”

“Matthew!”

“Let’s call it getting ready for a newborn.”

Oh god, they were the same— him and Frank both absolute gluttons for pushing themselves to their limits and exhaustion.

Matt bent over and lifted your top to give a gentle kiss to your abdomen.

“Hey baby girl, tell mama to get some sleep. Okay?” he spoke softly to your baby, thumb lightly tracing the skin there

“Join me when you’re done?”

Matt swallowed thickly as he stood back to his full height, gnawing at his cheek from the sincerity in your offer. Did he really deserve to try and go back to normal with you? For a moment he let silence fill the room, eyes as close to staring at you as he could make them. When he spoke his voice sounded broken, cracking as he replied.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?”

“I never asked you to sleep in the spare room.”

“I know, I just felt like— I don’t know— I needed to earn my way back in.”

“You did. The will thing was romantic. And dorky, if I’m being honest.”

He shook his head with a dry chuckle.

“I’ll be right in, baby.”

You hadn’t felt his touch beyond a quick hello or goodbye kiss in days and you hadn’t realized how deeply the absence was affecting you until you were tucked back into bed, waiting for him to join you. Sleeping beside him had become such a routine and integral part in the connection of your relationship, that it just dawned on you how it was also partially to blame for why you hadn’t really slept well since your fight.

All your muscles seemed to relax as he finally slipped under the covers, clean skin warming yours as he wrapped his arms around you. With only the lights of the city coming in through the curtains to illuminate the room, you almost couldn’t see the multiple fading bruises spread across his bare chest as he snuggled into you.

You quickly found his lips in the dark and kissed him, really kissed him, for the first time in days. It felt like coming home after a long vacation away, stepping through the door and collapsing into the familiar.

And the way he kissed you back? Absolute heaven.

“I missed you, Matty.” you whispered, laying on your side with your nose touching his, your breaths mixing as you exhaled.

He cradled your face in his hands, letting his glassy eyes dart back and forth as he listened to you relax into his touch.

“I know, angel. I’m so sorry and I’ll never be able to say it enough.”

“I know. And I think I might be able to forgive you. Someday.”

He slid his hand to wrap around your waist, rubbing little circles into the skin of your hip where your shirt rode up. It was as if moment by moment you could feel the tension melting away from his body by just being beside you.

“Do you remember what I said when you first told me you were pregnant?” he asked

“That you didn’t care if she was Frank’s or not. But clearly you do.”

“I know. I probably would have told you if I’d found him right away. But when I didn’t and we kept building all this together,” he gestured to the room “We were so happy. I was so happy.”

“I was too.” you agreed

“I was so scared of losing it. It was the first time in my life I felt like everything was right, by building a life with you. And when I found him, I was already all in this and I was so scared you’d want to be with Frank and just leave me. ”

“I won’t, you know that.”

“I do, yeah.”

“Are you still happy? I mean now that he’s going to be part of it too?” you asked

“If I get to have you and our daughter, yeah. I can deal with pretty much anything else. But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Oh yeah?”

“When you first told me, I said I was all in. I meant it then. I still mean it, honey. I’ll mean it until the day I die. I love you. I love our baby. And if Frank is going to be around fine, but I will not let you down again. That’s a promise.”

The definitiveness to his tone was reassuring. There was no demand or expectation to his statement; no call for you to choose between the two of them, no asking for you to be over the distrust. It was pure honesty from his heart.

“You know,” you responded, inching closer and hoping that if you stared at his eyes hard enough he would see you; see the way you were opening your heart like an exposed nerve and begging for him to heal it “when we first started seeing each other, before the baby, I was convinced you were gonna get bored with me. That all my shit would get in the way and make you not love me.”

“Never.”

“I know that now. I’m so glad I let myself fall for you, Matt. I love you so much.”

All you could think to do in that moment was kiss him, even deeper and more tender than before. To show him you meant every word you said. Yeah, he deserved your anger, but also deserved your reassurance that you would never stop loving him. And if you asked him for action to prove himself then you certainly owed it to him to show him with your own actions that you meant it.

He followed your cues, groaning into your lips as you ran your fingers down his chest until your hand reached the waistband of his boxers. As you toyed with the fabric, he shook his head and moved his body to press against you, rolling so that you were flat on your back and he was half on top of you with his leg tucked between yours.

“You’re not gonna let me take care of you, are you?” you asked, giggling into his mouth

“No, honey. You know that’s not fair. Come on, I still have some apologizing to do.” he replied, his hand sliding down your body to dip into the waistband of your panties

“You’re really going to tell your pregnant girlfriend no— Ah!”

Your argument died as he swiped a finger through your wetness, pressing against your clit with a gentle circle. No sooner had you processed the pleasure of his action that he was pulling his hand away.

“Shh!” he chided, delighted smile growing on his face “Sweetheart, as much as I love hearing you moan for me, we have to be quiet. You nearly just woke Frank.”

Shit, right. Frank was still sleeping on your couch. And you certainly didn’t want him to listen to this.

“I feel like a teenager sneaking around with her boyfriend trying not to get caught by her parents.” you giggled

“Try not getting caught by nuns” he replied

You had to wonder if teenage Matt had actually ever tried to sneak a girl into the orphanage. The thought left you as soon as his head disappeared beneath the blanket and he moved down your body.

He hadn’t shaved in days— a ruggedly handsome side effect to how little time he’d had between work and Daredevil. Not only were you grateful for the visual of it, you were also more than happy with how his beard now tickled at your thighs as he gently nipped at you flesh there. All it took was a light tap to your rear, hips lifted and panties tossed aside moments later. He worked slowly, teasing with tender and sweet kisses all around where you craved him most. There was no sense of urgency to his movements, both of you opting to enjoy every single gentle action as it’s own step to reconnect.

When he finally flicked his tongue along your clit, still staying soft and gentle, it was like a sigh of relief. You sunk into the feeling, letting him lazily work you up. He adored the way you tasted and every time he found himself between your thighs, he just wanted to stay there for hours reveling in the sweet nectar on his tongue and letting the sounds he drew out of you hypnotize him.

The pleasure was already beginning to build like a flower blossoming in the first rain of spring. The heat pooling in your core as he lapped and sucked on your clit tempted you to chase it to the finish line. But it had been too long since you’d had him properly and just so desperately wanted him inside you.

“Matt, please.” you whispered “This feels so good, but I just want to feel you.”

His actions remained unrushed, taking off his boxers and tenderly pressing his body against yours, opening your legs with docile hands to slot himself between them. Your shirt was also lost in the abyss of darkness and with nothing between the two of you, you couldn’t help but arch your back up into his touch. His hard his length sent waves of tingles through your whole body as he ran it through your folds, coating himself in the pooling wetness he’d worked up.

It was comfortable, the two of you content to rub against each other just for the sake of reveling in the feeling of being so close; chest to chest as your heartbeats synced into rhythm, cocooning you between his adoration and the clouds of silk beneath you.

He whined, feeling the heat radiating between the two of you and just as needy as you but not wanting to rush a thing.

When the blunt head of his cock pushed at your entrance, it felt like the most natural and easy thing in the world; letting him in with a muted mew and a timid tremble that ricocheted through your whole body.

He moved patiently, filling you inch by inch to ensure that you both felt it all. Pushing aside the carnal need to just take you, he remained devout to taking his time as the two of you laid there entwined. Grounding himself to the reality of your skin pressed against his, the heat of your core surrounding his length, your whimpers soft beneath him— all because of him. You were here and you still wanted him; still loved him.

You clenched at the fullness of him inside you, feeling like you could stay this way forever; not knowing where you ended and he began and feeling so right. He surrounded you and yet you still felt like you weren’t close enough.

“Is it just me or has the pregnant sex been even hotter than regular sex?” you asked, pressing a few kisses to his chest as you adjusted to his size.

“Think that might just be you, sweetheart. The hotter part. Not the— it’s hot, I mean.” he stuttered “It’s just that you’re hot pregnant or not. So I don’t really have a preference for— I’m just gonna shut up and do my job.”

Your chuckle was cut off with a pleasured sigh as he slowly pulled away just a little, only to bring himself right back to filling you totally.

When he moved it was a familiar dance, entangling limbs waltzing towards nothing only taking it movement by movement. The feeling behind every meeting of his pelvis to yours was unspoken but so known. All you could do was ride it out, letting the current take you as his pace steadied to a predictable rhythm. Matt’s hands moved each time he drove into you, finding a new patch of softness to caress and cradle.

Your blood buzzed when he nosed at your neck, plump lips attaching to the point where your neck met your collarbone. Gently, you let your hands fall, brushing against the curves of his muscles and scars, lighting his skin on fire and pushing him to more vigor. The cross he always wore dangled down, tickling your sternum with each push and pull.

“Angel, you feel so good. So perfect. Made for me.” he cooed, breath hot and airy in your ear

Your only response was to mewl in pleasure, giving into the urge to tug on his hair, which earned you a growl.

No matter the setting, the mood, the tempo; Matt was always able to melt you into pliable ecstasy with what seemed like no effort. Using his abilities to fine tune every kiss, every movement; it was always the most beautifully crafted symphony when he laid you down. And tonight was no exception, feeling that familiar heat gathering deep inside you.

“Please, Matty.” you begged

Matt gave a fervent nod giving you exactly what he knew you needed.

His pace quickened, trying his hardest to avoid making more noise but chasing the feelings of pleasure. It took all your effort too not to cry out at just how good it was, his cock punctuating the spongy spot inside you and pushing you toward your peak and leaving little room in your brain for thoughts about staying quiet.

When Matt gently rested his forehead against yours, a tear slipped down from his pinched eyes.

“Shhh, Matt, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” you reassured, taking his hand from where it rested on your jaw and entwining your fingers with his just as tightly as he held your heart.

“Sweetheart, please.” he begged, so clearly about to burst

“Where you lead, I’ll follow.” you assured

He didn’t need to hear any other assurance. Latching his lips back to your neck, he let the current of his orgasm drag him under, drowning in the way your scent consumed him. As promised, you followed closely after. Holding your breath as all the blood drained from your head and your walls pulsed to milk the last of him; frenzied fire engulfing you until you sizzled out with a hiss.

The two of you stayed that way long after, entwined and syncing your breathing once again.

You were so content and satisfied, you barely noticed as his warmth vanished from on top of you. Returning who knew how long later to clean you up and tuck you in, finding his home beside you with an arm drawing you into his chest.

It was as if the two of you were frozen in a dream while everything else moved around you; comfortable and warm in your closeness to let the world rush by. Your head spun as the high wore off, muscles relaxing and sleep tempting you with every passing moment. It was only when he spoke that your body seemed to catch up, finding time moving once again but soothed into it by his sweet voice.

“Have I ever told you that missionary is my favorite?” he asked

“Of course it is, you Catholic.” you teased

“That’s not why!” he chided, hand coming down to softly swat at your ass

“Is it because you can sense the most? Like hear my heart best and stuff?”

“The opposite actually,” he replied “When we’re that close, it’s like it all just blends together. Your heart, my heart, your scent, my scent. I can’t tell where you end and I start and it’s comforting. I can just tune it all out and just be, you know? And I feel like I can just protect you like that, from anything.”

“Mmhmm. Shame it’s going to be impossible here pretty soon. I get any bigger and we’re going to have to start consulting Cosmo for more creative ways to get around this bump.”

That earned a chuckle from him, proud of how you made his eyes crinkle in delight.

“We’ll figure it out, I’m sure.”

In the afterglow of it all, you still found your hands roaming, the both of you desperate to stay close and connected with nothing in the way as you laid naked together. Eventually, his caress moved to your face, beginning the familiar ritual. His fingers glided across your cheek bones, smoothed over each brow bone and each eye lid. Gently, he felt his way down your nose, rolled over your lips and came to rest cradling your chin.

“I hope she’s as beautiful as you.” he whispered

For the first time, you believed his praise, knowing his sight was different but what he felt must have been true.

“I hope so too.” you agreed

“You know, I’m really glad we’re having a girl.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

Matt swallowed thickly, his eyes focused on nothing and yet, they were clearly lost in memories.

“My grandmother used to say ‘Those Murdock boys, they have the devil in them.’”

“Matt, you know—” you tried to argue

“But a daughter, it just gives me hope maybe she won’t turn out like me.”

Matt’s ability to always see the worst parts of himself devastated you. Whenever he got like that you just wanted to grab his face and scream all the great things bout him until he got the idea. If this baby turned out like Matt, all noble and empathetic, you’d be pretty damn proud. You brushed a reassuring hand through his hair, finding him in the moonlight to press your forehead to his.

“I think with you and Frank both raising her, we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have a mask and a code name by her 16th birthday.”

“We’ve still gotta pick a real one for her first.” he retorted

Your gaze darted towards the door, hoping that Frank was still sleeping soundly in the living room and not making his departure before you were ready.

“You know, he’s leaving tomorrow.” you informed him

“He said he wasn’t—”

“I know, but he said he’s got something he needs to finish. Whatever he was working on. To keep us all safe.”

Matt’s frame tensed beside you, muscles locking rigidly as a hum of disapproval rumbled in his throat. You could feel his hands clenching into fists as they rested against your waist and watched his jaw tick before he spoke.

“He’s going out to kill more people.”

“Matt, hey,” you tried to calm him “He can’t leave a loose end. Even you know that’s a bad idea. He promised me after this, he was done.”

“Do you think he can be?” Matt asked, harsh judgement punctuating every word

“I don’t know, do you?”

“You know how many times I’ve tried to put Daredevil behind me?”

“But you can’t.”

Matt shook his head, unspoken traumas of the past stuck in the silence that lingered in the room.

“Can I ask you something?” you whispered softly

Propping himself up on one elbow and raising his brows, he shifted to hover over you with concern etched on his face.

“Yeah, anything.”

“If anything ever happened to me,” you ran a protective hand over your bump “or her. Would you let him— I mean what he did when he lost his family the first time. Would you stop him?”

“He’d have to beat me to it.”

You were moved that Matt could even think of going that distance. Loving you and your child enough to do the one thing that opposed everything he stood for and made him righteous. Both of you knew though, even such a dire and tragic circumstance still might not be the thing that pushed him across that line.

“Well I’m glad Frank is around just in case. Too keep you good.”

“You and him…” Matt trailed off

“What about us?”

“While I was away this week. The two of you didn’t— I mean, I’d know if you did. Even just kissing. I’d have been able to—”

“Matt, no!” you interrupted, offended at the insinuation “God, I was mad at you but I’d never dream of hurting you like that.”

“I know, but…”

“What?”

“She’s his too. The two of you used to—- And you both still clearly have feelings.”

“I’m not sure that Frank does.”

“Oh please, sweetheart. His heart sounds like the Energizer Bunny anytime you walk in the room. And yours is no better.”

“What does my heart do when you walk in the room?” you asked quietly

“It used to be like that,” his voice calmed “In fact, anytime I used to come to your office, I liked to flirt with you as hard as I could, just to see if I could get it faster than the last time.”

“You absolute menace” you chuckled, playfully elbowing his ribs and speaking with sarcasm“Here I thought I was just that charming and pleasant to be around but you made me a game? How could you?”

“Hey, it made you fall in love with me.”

“Damn right it did.” you giggled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek “And now? Since we’ve been together a while?”

“It’s calm. Like how mine is when I finish meditating.”

“Exactly, Matt. Because you’re the most stable thing I’ve ever had and you make me feel at peace. You’re my home.”

“Stable? Please tell Foggy you called me that next time you see him.”

“What about hers?” you asked, moving his hand to rest on your abdomen

Cocking his head, he took a moment to listen, softly running a knuckle up and down over your bump.

“Fast. Growing. Every day it gets stronger and I can hear more and I—” his voice caught in his throat, bending down to press a feather light kiss to your stomach and resting his head right on top of it. He pressed his ear into your skin, listening closely.

“I already love her.” he croaked out, dampness falling on your skin as another tear slipped from his eyes.

“I do too.”

Laying there, he continued to listen as the night carried on, his head slowly bobbing up and down each time you inhaled or exhaled. You ran your fingers through the damp hair that was stuck to his forehead while he laid on you, both of you eventually relaxing into slumber.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag list: @xxdrixx @a-leg-without-fear @echo-ethe @capswife @xoxabs88xox @allmyn1ghts @laaadygisbooornex3 @ninacotte @uncertified-doc @moth-murdock @danzer8705 @endofthelinegang @buckyssugarchick @hellskitchenswhore @pixviee @themikkapika @bisexualbith @labellapeaky @theoraekenslover @sexyvixen7 @tanyaherondale @marysucks-blog @0callme-mimi @aesthetic0cherryblossom @lokifae42 @plutosbearr @kneelforloki @uselessnewt @its-in-the-woods @rapturousfrog

[nijigasakilove]

They took a week off just to come back with this Shishou/Shisui masterclass omg this was brilliantly executed. Both father and daughter are such tragically written characters who were willing to play the villain for the greater good. Tears in my eyes because This can’t be how my Shimao ship goes down man wtf 😭 Shisui deserved to be happy. Yea, Shenmei got her due, but at what cost..

I like how morally grey a lot of the stuff in this series is. Shishou’s a complex character because he did bad shit for a good reason in his heart, but then again he also let Shenmei abuse his own daughter and treat her like a slave for years. His love for Shenmei teetered on unhealthy obsession. Once it became clear Shenmei just cared about status and thought she was too good for him, he should’ve let her go. Easier said than done, but still.

At the same time, he was obviously conflicted between his commitment to his family(mainly wife) and his commitment to the nation. It’s like he set everything up for a final confrontation in the mountains between his family and the nation and whoever came out on top deserved to win, since he couldn’t choose.

Shisui’s part in all of this was incredible. It’s hard to believe this is the same carefree ditz we used to see hanging with Maomao 😢 For the first time in her life, she really got to do what she wanted to and stand up for what she thought was right. Even at the end, she tried giving her mother a chance to make the right choice. She knew she’d take the gun, she knew there was a chance she might pull the trigger, but she hoped her mom for once in her life would do the right thing. She didn’t. Pride was her downfall.

“If only you’d shed a tear, I wouldn’t have had to do all this” literally if Shenmei had just stopped and realized what and who she had with her, none of this would’ve happened. Crazy.

The snow dancing scene was one of the most beautiful in the entire series so far. The fluidity of Shisui’s movements, the haunting OST, the cuts showing the soldiers drawing weapons.. she knew scratching Jinshi’s face would seal her fate, but she accepted it. How ironic is it that in those last few seconds, that’s the freest she’s ever been in life..

Superhero movies and comics have conditioned me to not believe someone’s dead if we don’t see a body and they conventionally don’t pan over the castle, so if Shisui is out there somewhere alive and well and we just don’t see her for years.. I’d be ok with that. As long as she can finally be herself.

Ahhh my full Jinmao reunion next week is gonna be amazing. Maomao definitely saw Jinshi trying to touch her when she was asleep and they have a LOT to talk about now that the cat’s fully out the bag with him being the prince. The next episode title of “the beginning” makes so much sense because it does feel like this was all just the prologue to the real story and Jinshi x Maomao relationship taking the next step! Can’t wait s3 please 🙏🏾

Edit: Rewatched the ending and yea this series commitment to details is crazy because you see the sparkle of the ornament in the bush so you know she survived and dumped it. What a series and what an episode.

[silverthehedgehogcharacteristics]

Silver the Hedgehog Key Characteristics

Strong Sense of Justice: Silver is a righteous hedgehog of justice that is outraged by suffering and devastation. Seeks to settle scores(Sonic Forces, IDW Sonic) to get back for those that have been wronged and make evildoers pay for what they’ve done. Is very confrontational because of this as he has zero tolerance for injustices or things like breaking promises and will quickly take on anyone or anything to right wrongs and help those in need, however “His wish is to maintain peace, not to eradicate evil”(Sonic Channel). Silver wants to become a hero because it means being someone that can “protect smiles”(Sonic & Silver).

Optimism: Silver is an optimist and embodies hope just as Sonic embodies freedom. He always looks to a brighter outcome, does not give into despair no matter how dire the situation and believes “There’s always hope as long as you don’t give it up”(JP Sonic Forces quote). Inspires hope in others during dark times(Sonic 06 last episode, Sonic Forces, helping Elise through her performance anxiety in Otherworld Comedy) and spreads happiness during peaceful times as he is said to engage in Cheerful Activities after the historical change in 06(Sonic & Silver). If he is down it does not take much to bring him back up(Sonic Rivals 2). Silver has a positive way of life that inspires people and makes them want to cheer him on(Sonic Channel).

Kindness: Silver is an Altruist with a strong desire to help others and is always thinking of someone else’s happiness rather than his own(Sonic & Silver). Silver wants to “protect smiles” and make people happy because he grew up in a world filled with despair. His altruism is the source of his mission and the only thing that can make him break from it as he can’t say no to a sad face or ignore those in need. Silver actively does things like serving apple slices(Wallpaper Comedy 2022) and giving gifts as Santa(Sonic Pict) because his greatest joy is seeing smiles. Silver put the spirit of the pilot Renzo to rest by pretending to be an airplane for him in Town Mission 4. Silver is selfless and acts for others, he has no regard for his own safety and is willing to sacrifice himself without even thinking(Sonic Comic Pumpkin Trigger). When Eggman attacks in Sonic Comic Act Final Stage, Silver instantly acts to shield everyone.

Honest: Silver is a pure and genuine person that is very Forthright, Straightforward and Honest to a fault to the point of being blunt. He can’t tell a lie, wears his heart on his sleeve and has an “Honest, unpretentious and kind demeanor”(Sonic Channel Staff Column). Silver is very humble and does not think of himself as a hero(Sonic & Silver). Silver is an Enhancer(someone that is determined and simple, never lies, hides nothing, is straightforward in their actions and thinking, whose words and actions are often dominated by their feelings and is very focused on their goals),

Brash: Silver has a brash and flippant personality that is even more brash than Sonic’s(even Sonic says Silver has an attitude in Sonic Rivals). Silver is so straightforward and honest that he is also rude and blunt. He has no filter and will call you an idiot to your face if he thinks you’re an idiot and is so direct that he can often ignore manners and social customs(06 NPC dialogue, Sonic Rivals series). Silver is very snappy, abrasive and sarcastic, being quick to insult or sneer at any opposition(06, Rivals series, Riders Zero Gravity, Olympic Games, Eggman’s theme park in Colors DS). Has a confident, somewhat smug attitude about his abilities and is very Competitive(almost fights Blaze when they start one-upping each other over who could deal with Orbot and Cubot on their own in Colors DS). Silver is said to have Mischievous Side(Sonic Channel Commemorative Illustration series). Silver is Headstrong(almost fights Blaze when she treats him like an amateur in Otherworld Comedy) and can be quick to start fights for both serious and petty reasons(Colors DS, Rivals series, Jet and Bowser Jr in Mario and Sonic, Infinite in Forces). Silver is very ill-mannered in general which is more apparent in Japanese where he has various informal rude mannerisms including using “Ore”(informal masculine “I”), “Anta”(Impolite “you”) that signifies he speaks bluntly, pointing directly at people he speaks to(confrontational gesture) and crossing his legs while sitting(roughly the Japanese equivalent to putting your feet on a table). Silver is rash and impolite in contrast to Future Trunks. Silver’s blunt rudeness, honesty and overall traits are the complete opposite of Eggman Nega’s over-politeness, deception and overall traits. Despite this however Silver is still outgoing and approachable.

Naive: Silver has a black and white perspective and is innocent in his ideals. Expects people to believe him when he says he’s from the future or explains outlandish situations simply because he knows them to be true(Which causes people to not believe him). Sometimes takes things literally and doesn’t understand jokes but has an angry “What’s so funny” attitude when he doesn’t understand things(Says “Yes, why?” when Espio asks “you want me to believe that?” in Sonic Rivals 2 and “What’s so funny” when he didn’t understand people what people were laughing at in Otherworld Comedy). Silver is young and immature according to Shun Nakamura.

Emotional: Emotionally immature, unregulated and unfiltered. Sometimes Silver tends to deal with things too head-on because of the strength of his feelings, or he tends to take everything on himself, which can make him reckless and rash/impulsive(In the Japanese version of 06 Blaze describes him as running wild rather than insecure). Short-tempered, easily angered and has a wrathful temper like Blaze. Gets indignant when people don’t listen to him(Sonic Channel) and punches things when he is frustrated(06, Mario & Sonic series). Feels joy and rage loudly but sadness and contemplation quietly. Silver is generally High-Spirited, puts his all into what he gets invested in(I’m giving this everything I’ve got!). Can get carried away or needs to be calmed down/held back when he gets riled up. Silver is hot-blooded and rash while Sonic and Shadow are calm and cool(Sonic & Silver Sonic Channel story).

Peace: Silver lives and fights for World Peace. Silver is devoted to peace because he hails from a hellish ruined future that was filled with darkness, devastation and suffering. Silver has great empathy for the state of both people and environments so devastation saddens and upsets him while beauty and prosperity leaves him breathless. Blue Skies and Smiles are especially important to him, blue skies make him feel at peace, and he can’t help but smile when seeing smiling faces. The quills on Silver’s head are patterned in the shape of a Japanese Red Maple Leaf which represents peace and prosperity.

Sentimental: Silver is also very Sentimental. He finds great beauty in nature and serenely appreciates both the wonders of the world and the little things that most people take for granted. Silver enjoys sightseeing and going on journeys(Sonic Colors DS, Olympic Games, Sonic Pict) because of this. Silver relaxes and chats with his friends during downtime(Sonic & Silver). Silver has a somewhat wide-eyed curiosity and likes seeing cool and interesting things(“Interesting”). Silver feels serene and at peace when seeing nature, happiness and prosperity. This side of him ties into his peace themes due to his ability to appreciate beauty and serenity which the Momiji/Japanese Red Maple also represents.

Fighter: Fought and struggled for half his lifetime(possibly since he was Cream’s age) through the disaster future(Sonic & Silver). Silver hails from an extremely hostile environment filled with darkness, large Iblis enemies and constant disasters. He has high aggression because of this and has very intense determined expressions and aggressive body language with constant fists even during competitions or just tasks he's focused on. Silver has angular sharp pointed eyes like Sonic’s other rivals which represent intensity and danger in character design. Shadow describes Silver as a Fighter in Team Sonic Racing. Silver is extremely powerful being able to evenly physically fight Sonic and Shadow to a standstill in 06 and the Rivals series, and repeatedly destroy both the gigantic Iblis and small armies by himself in 06 and Sonic Pict. Silver both Enjoys Fighting and has an Instant fight response when surprised in Sonic Generations. Silver “sometimes calls forth great power without mercy”(Sonic Channel).

Determination: Silver has relentless Determination that allowed him to fight through the apocalyptic future. Doesn’t give up easily(got exact hedgehog apple slices after 40 tries). Has no regard for pain/massive pain tolerance(Kept fighting undeterred after being kicked in the head by Shadow and skipped across the street like a rock by Sonic in Generations and endures excruciating "pain beyond description” caused by his powers in Sonic & Silver). Silver is bold and undeterred by any threat(says “We can take them all on!” when facing Eggman, Knuckles and Rouge in Rivals 2 and “I’ll just destroy him everywhere at once” when facing Solaris in Sonic 06) as he fought against disasters and large Iblis monsters in dark dangerous environments from a very young age and throws himself at every enemy from Iblis to Infinite without hesitation, even if they are stronger than him.

Straight-to-the-point mentality, hates distractions and petty details(Doesn’t care what the plan is called, only that it works in Forces). This can make him impatient towards things that get in his way or waste time. Silver is Goal Focused(even during things like competitions he says the Jade Ghost Wisp is the only item he likes because it lets him disappear and focus on racing in the Team Vector interview). Takes things much more seriously than Sonic and sometimes gets mad at Sonic for not taking things seriously or messing around(JP TSR, Sonic 4 Panel Manga). 

Silver is very direct and Proactive as he spent most of his life trying to defeat Iblis and find out how his future came to ruin when no one could tell him how and actively investigated Dodon Pa and Eggman in Team Sonic Racing.

Silver is pragmatic and somewhat ruthless. Opens both his fights with Sonic in 06 by trying to sneak attack and snipe Sonic with psychic energy balls. Has fought dirty by playing possum to hit Sonic in 06, snuck past Soleanna guards to get to Radical Train in 06. Mugs Tails in Sonic Rivals 2(he’s okay with stealing), has no qualms with fighting kids like Tails or Bowser Jr. Leaves his enemies to die even if they beg for life(Sonic Rivals 2/IDW Sonic). Has the “get-it-done” mindset of Future Trunks and will do whatever it takes to save the future.

Challenger: Enjoys challenges and ways to test himself(Sonic Colors DS, Mario & Sonic Series). Makes steady efforts to train and improve offscreen(Sonic Channel Comedy). Silver is a very skilled person that takes offense to being treated like an amateur(Otherworld Comedy) and is able to do various jobs around Soleanna(06 Town Missions), become a delivery boy(Sonic Pict), a butler, a top class ice skater, and a genius skating coach(Sonic Channel) and has sharp shooting among the best in Soleanna’s 1500 year history. One of his catchphrases is “I’ll take you on”. 

Intuitive: Silver sometimes deduces things that other people do not and every central game role Silver has from 06 to TSR is about him searching for truth and he has successfully figured out the schemes of Eggman and Eggman Nega before anyone else each time. Silver can be very sharp, perceptive and crafty; he figures out Eggman Nega’s disguises by noticing small details in his mannerisms in Sonic Rivals, intuits Blaze trying to control her great power when seeing it for the first time in Sonic Channel and changes his fight with Sonic into a race to collect Chao instead to advance his mission in Sonic Rivals 2.

Often shown/implied to like Apples(he ate apple flavored calorie bar rations in the 06 Iblis future according to Sonic Channel Sonic Pict) suggesting they are his favorite food. Apples also symbolize sweetness, beauty, and hope for prosperity in Japanese and Jewish culture.

Lives in the good future the same way Blaze lives in the Sol Dimension when not in Sonic’s time(spends most of his time there as he doesn’t get to see Sonic very often according to Team Sonic Racing). Also implied to live in Soleanna(He was originally going to be named Venice simply because he lived there, implied to live there in Sonic & Silver and Otherworld Comedy Act 4 Sonic Channel stories).

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 4 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 4: Thank You

Synopsis: The three of you finally confront the unspoken truths of your past and present, leaving no room for guilt or regret. Nothing is left unsaid. It's a goodbye to the love that once was, but also a hopeful beginning for what might be.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years >>> congrats, you've made it, it's comfort time, bestiees

Word count: 1102

A/n: Last chapter of this series (for now...) I might write for Jack and Robby individually if I feel like there's a story to be told. Maybe even a backstory to this, who knows???

Previous Chapter (3): I Forgive You

With steady hands and a clear mind, you feel like you’re finally finding your rhythm again.

Something within you feels more grounded, less haunted by the past.

You're sat next to a bed, working on removing pieces of glass from your patient's leg. They're sedated, allowing you to sit in peaceful silence.

Something in the corridor catches your attention.

Your eyes flicker to Robby standing outside the room, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, watching you execute the procedure with meticulous care and attention. He hasn’t had the courage to enter yet.

"Robby?" You ask gently.

He steps in, arms crossed.

"Looks like you've got it", Robby mutters. A sense of pride in his voice. He was your attending. And he taught you well. Though he always insisted he'd learned just as much from you.

"I could use a hand?" You wouldn't. But you offer anyway, willing him to stay.

That's all he needs, as he grabs a new pair of gloves, instantly finding his place next to you.

He gives you a soft smile before turning his attention to the patient's battered leg.

You sit there for a while, enjoying each other's company.

"Thank you", you say sincerely. "For everything."

Robby's eyes grow wide, before he drops his head, shaking it softly. "You've been through a lot."

"We all have", you acknowledge, a flicker of hope flashing in front of your eyes.

He gently nudges your leg. You reach out, grabbing his thigh without thinking, the instinct still alive. He takes your hand, the sensation still raw but familiar.

Robby looks at the patient’s chart, then shoots a quick look at you, a familiar smirk forming, one you hadn't seen it in a long time.

"Apparently, I need to be more approachable if I want my patient satisfaction scores to go up." He hesitates, but goes for it anyway. "How would you rate my performance, Y/N?"

A laugh bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You quickly glance around, suddenly aware of the inappropriate timing.

Shaking your head, you laugh again, the sound warm and genuine. "You’re ridiculous, Robby."

Robby looks satisfied. "What? Too soon?"

You roll your eyes. "I hope I'm never one of your patients again", a smirk forming on your lips now.

"That makes two of us, my friend", he exhales deeply, feeling like he's finally able to let go.

In this warmth, you both remember. The way love used to be.

You and Jack find yourselves in the break room, still in scrubs, sitting next to each other on the small sofa. The chaos of the ER has died down. No critical patients, no urgent calls, just the two of you in this moment.

Jack cracks open a can of soda, handing it to you without looking. You take it, feeling the warmth of his simple gesture.

He feels you eyeing his sandwich too, but pretends he doesn't. "Jack..." You pout. He slowly shakes his head with a smile.

You put the can down, crossing your arms dramatically.

He glances over at you, still chewing slowly. "You ever think about how we always made it back?" The subject change gives you whiplash.

You hesitate, then give a slight nod. "Every day."

"Yeah." He lets the words hang in the air, not needing to elaborate. Somehow you two always found a way to survive. To come home.

Jack looks at you, his eyes softening before a familiar smirk forms on his lips. “I’m still not giving you my sandwich.”

You laugh, the kind that makes your eyes crinkle. “Oh, come on. I’m starving.”

“You’ll live.” He shrugs nonchalantly, his stoic expression cracking slightly.

You both let out a quiet chuckle. And for the first time in a long time you both realize that this is how it’s meant to be.

With a groan, he finally offers you a bite. You accept, taking a big one. He drops his mouth in disbelief.

As a thank you, you offer your lap with a familiar gesture. Without hesitation, he leans into you, his head resting lightly on your thighs.

And when you softly run your fingers through his greying curls, Jack allows himself to close his eyes, letting his walls down with each calming breath.

For a moment, there’s no history between you. No heartbreak, no regret, just peace. A new kind of love between two people who found their way back.

You push through the metal doors, finding two familiar figures standing on the edge of the rooftop, this time on the appropriate side of the railing.

You hide a small giggle. Progress.

"Thought I'd find you boys up here." You shout over.

Their heads turn instantly, as if they've been waiting for you.

They make room for you between them, before you all turn your gaze back to the sunrise.

You close your eyes and for a brief moment, you swear you can feel their eyes on you. Maybe you will all be okay.

You blink, taking a step back to look at them, their gaze already fixed on you.

You fling your hands around their shoulders, pulling them into a comforting embrace. The three of you stand there for a long moment, holding each other in a way that’s healing, not broken.

You're still here. Together.

You smile at the prospect of this new beginning.

The minutes tick away.

You begin to wonder who's gonna let go first, but quickly realise it won't be them. Not out of fear of what would happen, but out of pure bliss.

So you decide, it has to be you.

You smile, before letting go swiftly. Their hands still on you, even as you step back.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow. Or today. Whatever...", you tease. Robby always insists that just because one shift ends, it doesn't mean it's a new day.

Robby groans. "Today", shaking his head, unable to hide the smile creeping in.

"Dr. Abbot. Dr. Robinavitch", you tease looking at them individually, before you turn around and finally disappear through the doors.

Robby and Jack stay for another beat, not wanting the moment to end.

"You know she still loves you, right?" Jack breaks the silence.

"What?" Robby laughs nervously.

"Come on, brother." Jack tilts his head. "You're good for each other."

"I don't know. I really fucked up."

Jack nods. "So fix it", his voice firm as ever.

The sincerity in his voice makes Robby think. Jack gives him a friendly pat on the chest, as he heads for the door too.

"See you tomorrow", Jack grins.

Robby laughs, like he's finally able to breathe again.

Well well well. This is it guys! I hope you enjoyed this four part series inspired by the 'Four Things that Matter Most': I Love You, Thank You, I Forgive You and Please Forgive Me. Pls pls lmk your thoughts below!! I love reading your comments!

Taglist: ♡

@queenslandlover-93 @sp00kylesley @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sqrlgrl22 @imonmykneessir @gabsgabsvaz @nowandajenn @cannonindeez @sydney-m @persistent-mango

[leyavo]

| The Bite | 4

Part 4

Previous parts -> [series Masterlist]

Johnny confronts Human!reader and you try to figure out your place in the 141 pack with new found information. Confused about the new dynamic, Gaz steps in to help you.

[18+] MDNI

Ever since you got the alpha’s bite, it felt like lightning surging through your veins. The blood pulses in your ears, heart beat drumming against your chest faster than you’re used to, as if it was trying to escape. The withdrawal symptoms Price had warned you of. Something that would calm down and return to your normal human self soon.

“You reek of him.”

The beta in front of you though, you don’t recognise. His nose scrunched up,lip curled in disgust as he flinches away from your outstretched hand. You know something’s missing though, not just his soft gaze whenever he used to look at you but your chest feels like there’s a gaping void that cannot be filled. A part of you missing. Him.

You’ve been ignoring the crushing weight on your chest for days, chasing whatever high with Price or Ghost. In hopes of finding that feeling again. You don’t think that’s possible anymore though, not as you blink back at Johnny.

“Do you realise what you’ve done?” He snarls, jabbing a finger to your neck. A growl tearing from his throat and you stumble back, head dropping in submission. Something you’d never done in his presence before.

He releases a deep breath, dropping his duffle bag to the floor. “You’re not mine anymore, you’re his. I can’t just bite you and override an Alpha’s mark or your instincts.”

Your tongue heavy, mouth dry as you let his words sink in. Johnny had never called you his, vowed not to treat you like an object or someone to fill his needs. The complete opposite of Price and Ghost.

You glance at the one bag by his boots. “I can’t come home with you?” Home, the MacTavish’s had been your only safe space since you’d left the human collectives behind. You didn’t know any different. Didn’t want to.

“No,” he snaps, snatching his duffle from the floor and slinging it back over his shoulder. “That’s not your home anymore or your pack. You stay here with your Alpha.”

“Huh?” You blink, willing yourself to stand as Johnny stalks towards you.

“Price will tell you to jump and you’re wired to ask how high. That knot in your stomach,” he pokes the area, his other palm resting on your hip. “That’s your bond, every time he looks at you, that knot tightens and it’ll tug you towards him. There’s no fighting an alpha, even I can’t.”

“Please,” you beg, fingers grasping the fabric of his hoody, but he shrugs you off. Won’t even look you in the eye as if it’ll anger her even more. It’s like he’s trying not to breathe around you, the space increasing as you stumble back.

“You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.”

Oof, that hit you in the gut. He might as well as hit you because it hurt just the same.

He grabs you by the elbow and guides you out of his bedroom, touch brief as he lets go to lock his door.

“Don’t want your scent in my room,” he mumbles, he taps your chin as if second guessing whether or not Initiate a hug but thinks better of it. “Be good for your Alpha.”

Alpha, you hated the way Johnny spat the word at you. Not used to his harsh side.

You watch Johnny disappear down the hallway, your finger tracing your stomach and the new bond that tightens. Nothing felt real, your whole being numb. How the fuck were you going to navigate Johnny’s world without him? He was the one that brought you into it.

You’re not accustomed to the cold, the radiating heat that rolled off Johnny used to keep you warm.

Now, you were forced to seek that warmth from Price or Ghost. Hopping in and out of their beds, leaning into the bond to ease the knot in your stomach and satisfy them. You’re out of your depth and they’re making the most of teaching you certain things.

You sit on the edge of Price’s bed, the tapping of his fingers clicking the keyboard of his laptop as he hunches over his desk. A pile of paperwork calling his attention, but every now and then his large hand reaches back to you, pawing your knee, his knuckles tracing the side of your thigh. You hate to admit it, but you find yourself edging closer to him each time, chasing the heat of his touch.

Different from the relaxed nature you had with Johnny. No, you could lounge around whilst he did his own thing. With an Alpha you now understood the way the beta had described the bond to you. How Price would say something and you were quick to act, no push back or whining. You couldn’t understand how Ghost managed to pique your interest though, how he knew what to say and how to command the tug.

It’s like there’s an invisible string and they’re pulling on it whenever they’re near. There’s no tug of war though, you can’t help but want to follow, to figure out what an alpha really is. You’d heard stories as child from the humans about how they tore apart villages and hunted those wandering their lands.

“Why don’t you go rest tonight,” Price grumbled, not looking back at you as he nudges your leg off the bed. You linger for a second before he nudges you again and exit his bedroom, closing his door behind you.

Rest, you don’t know where exactly you’ll be doing that as you stare at the open closet of the hallway. The one thing you were allowed from Johnny’s room was your pillow, his scent still clinging to fabric. You hugged the lumpy pillow to your chest and pressed your nose to that last scrap of comfort.

Johnny’s been gone nearly a week now and all you want to do is lay with him. You don’t deserve that though.

“Take it you’ve never been around alpha’s till now?”

You flinch, those damned shifters too silent that you couldn’t hear him creeping down the hallway. Another pack member, Gaz who thankfully has given you space to settle in before approaching you.

He raises his palms, slow and deliberate steps as he inched closer. “Night off?” Like your some frightened deer, maybe you are in their eyes.

Nodding, you glance to Johnny’s door wishing for someone to just open it so you can sleep without any interruptions. That and because it has been home for you these past few months whilst at the residential house. Johnny used to be home too.

“Come on,” Gaz says, taking your pillow and scooping your hand up in his. You don’t know why, but you let him guide you to his room savouring the heat of his palm on your cold skin. There’s something soothing in the way he holds you, a whisper telling you to trust him. So you do.

He peels back the thick duvet on his bed, flinging one of his pillows to the floor so he can place yours there instead. He begins to plump the feathers, but pauses and looks back at you.

“I don’t want anything from you,” Gaz says as he climbs over the mattress and slips under the covers. “We just sleep, nothing else.” The first shifter you’d met who remained gentle and soft when it came to you. And didn’t want to bite you.

You crawled under the duvet, Gaz tucking you in beside him. “Thank you,” you whisper, lying on your side, eyes fluttering shut as you get a whiff of Johnny.

“It takes a while to get used to an alpha’s overpowering presence…” Gaz whispers, his pointer finger smoothing your furrowed brow. “Probably why you’ve got a headache too, well that and…” his words trail off, teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“You can just say it.”

He shakes his head. “I’m a delta, I don’t need all that.”

“A delta?” Alpha, beta, omega how many more were there? Johnny never did quite run through the whole ranking system of a pack with you. You knew some, but not in detail. Your lack of knowledge going against you.

He tilts his head, hazel eyes flitting the curves of your face. “Goddess, did Johnny not teach you the fundamentals? The basic biology and hierarchy of a pack?” Gaz sits up in bed, leaning over you to flick the lamp on. He rests his back on the headboard, the shake of his head telling you he was annoyed.

At you, you weren’t sure. He turns his body to face yours and waits for you sit up too. Least with Price and Ghost, you could feel the bond pulling you to them. Gaz didn’t give you much to go on though and it reminded you of the human connections you left behind years ago.

“Alphas have way more energy, they need a pack to guide and you know, they also have to give into those instincts more,” he glances down to your hand, fingers twisted in the sheets. “You’re familiar with Beta’s though, as Johnnys family, the pack you were first in were yours and you theirs.”

Yeah, the MacTavish’s were all beta’s. They flowed easily and you settled in with no problems. A family pack a whole lot different to one like the 141.

“There’s a reason you felt called to the Alpha, it’s natural. Johnny forgets that even though you are human, you’re not immune to their influence. He should have prepared you more. The moment Johnny joined this pack, you also did unknowingly too because you had his mark.”

You wondered if Johnny had known that in bringing you here, you’d have this fate.

“You know that bites don’t turn you humans into one of us,” he says, smile tugging his lips as you nodded. “The intent behind the bite makes all the difference. Johnny, a beta he marked you to protect and look out for you. Price did it to overrule his beta, alpha’s don’t like being told what they can’t have and Johnny said you’re off limits.”

Your heart skips a beat, “I can’t say no to the alpha?” You whispered. Shit, maybe you should have listened to the humans more growing up. Why did Johnny have to be so nice when you were younger? Kinder than your human family.

Gaz scoffed, “of course ya can! Although the bond with an alpha makes it harder to do so. You’re gonna have to explore it in order to control it.”

If you can learn to control it maybe you could manipulate it to go in your favour. You can’t override an Alpha’s bite, nor can you fight it.

“Great,” you mumbled, scooting closer to Gaz who’d squeezed himself against the wall trying to give you space. “I’m so cold can I?” You asked, still moving closer. He nods, lifting his arm and draping it over your hip, the heat of his body washing over you.

“I’ll talk to them in the morning, what I’m for. A delta balances out the stronger energies and keeps them in check. The moral compass of the pack.”

[Part five]

Human!reader 🤝 Delta!Gaz teaming up…still lots for them to figure out.

I’m dyslexic so there might be mistakes/errors even though I do edit multiple times -Leya

[shouts-into-the-void]

I think its super interesting how much complexity we're starting to see in the characters this season.

Thus far, the misfits have been the pretty uncontested "good guys" while the clusterfucks have been the clear "bad guys."

However, this season, we start to see that the division is much less black and white.

Ada tackles a super dangerous monster to save Annabel. Annabel doesn't leave her behind even though it's obviously impeding her escape and sacrifices her engagement ring to save the three of them. Prospero immediately books it for Ada as soon as he realizes she's in danger and tries to reassure her that him not being into her has nothing to do with her worth as a person. Meanwhile the misfits immediately scatter and start arguing amongst themselves.

It's highlighted extremely clearly in the confrontation between Eulalie, Pluto, Duke, Will, and Montresor. [SPOILERS for fast pass ahead btw]

While it's really easy to see the initial argument on a surface level (Goatman trying to pick a fight and using Will to do it, Eulalie coming to Will's defense because she sees him being mistreated) and while that is what happens, a closer inspection shows a lot more going on in terms of character morals.

The argument starts because Montresor, hurt, disabled, and having had his pride/ego dented, is lashing out and gets fed up with Will. (I do think its super interesting that as soon as Will flinches, he switches gears from insulting him to telling him to stop letting him walk all over him, albiet in a harsh way) Eulalie responds by asking him to stop being mean to Will, and offers to take Will into the group. Pluto and Duke reject the idea, completely ready and willing to abandon someone who for all they know and have seen, is being bullied and manipulated by someone they all know is capable of horrific violence.

And while Will ultimately chooses Montresor because he's a gay disaster the real display of just how much the characters words and alignment don't match their actual morals comes when Will gets gutted by the stag.

Hes still alive, bleeding out on the ground and begging for help. And the misfits leave him there to die. With a couple flippiant lines no less.

Meanwhile Montresor, resident scum of the Earth who's loyal to no one and delights in the suffering of others? Hesitates maybe a second before jumping into danger to save him. Not only that, he's actively comforting and reassuring Will the entire time.

And I think this is what makes me the most excited for the rest of this comic. Your fave would let a man die if that man wasn't on their side. The most monstrous character in the series couldn't abandon someone who can't defend themself.

And before you say it, yes Montresor abandoned Ada and a lot of him saving Will has to do with the fact that he actually cares for him. But I think the reasoning has more to do with the flashback we see of Monty and the dog. Disregarding that Ada is the reason he's spiraling out so bad right now and the animosity he feels due to her making him confront his religious trauma, he knows that she is perfectly capable of defending herself. Meanwhile Will has trouble defending himself in any setting, and is currently mortally wounded and being torn to shreds by a pack of dogs.

I think this season is setting up for a character arc for the clusterfucks and a reverse character arc for the misfits. I believe that Lenore is going to get closer and closer to the person Annabel remembers as her bonds with her friends weaken and her memories return, while Annabel is going to start forming the support network she desperately needs to cope with her various issues. This will leave the two of them in a role reversal, with Lenore determined to do anything and burn any bridge to save the two of them, while Annabel is desperately trying to figure out a way to save all of them. It would be most interesting to me if the season ended with Lenore going lone wolf and the rest of the cast teaming up to form an escape plan and get the old Lenore back.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER NINE

09 : REPUTATION

CHPT. SUM. : Sirius and his close friends build up a reputation at school leading up to their return home for the winter holidays 

LENGTH : 10.7k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; marauders origins ; pranking shenanigans ; james is crushing hard ; reunited ; sirius comes home for the holidays! ; investigations lead to a shocking discovery

← PREV. 08 : PASTRIES | SERIES M.LIST

9th October 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

You didn’t need to help Ruth or Damocles on Saturdays or Saturdays as they strictly wanted to keep the weekends to themselves. They've also been feeling very guilty about taking too much of your time. You argued against it but appreciated that they understood how important it was for them to spend time with each other and for you to spend time with your son. Regulus wasn’t one to complain, either. He loved spending time at the Potions shop and talking with Ruth, but he loved spending time with his mother most. Regulus often stayed in the study with you, reading, drawing or chatting while you worked at your desk. Sometimes, you’d write letters to Sirius together, talking about mundane things that happened throughout your day or week.

Surprisingly, you haven’t heard of any mischief from Sirius. You’re confident that he and the marauders would already be causing some sort of trouble, so you were quite confused. However, whenever you look at Regulus reading Sirius’ letters with such concentration and a hidden smile, his eyes glittering with excitement, you can hazard a guess as to why your letters are much milder than the ones Regulus seems to receive from his brother. You suppose Sirius doesn’t want to out himself as being a troublemaker in school. And, although you appreciate his consideration of you and his want to come across as a well-behaved son, you’re itching to know about all the trouble he’s caused. The fandom hardly knows anything about the Marauders and, now that you have the chance to know what they were up to personally, you’re eager to be let in on all of their secrets.

Nevertheless, after a mostly quiet day with Regulus spent on decorating the halls and rooms of the house with the dried lavender sprigs you had bought off of the Belby’s, you leave him to his own devices before dinner while you investigate the parlour room once more. You’ve left it too long out of your own cowardice and fear. Confrontations were something you were used to, but more so in the business sense; however, this was something entirely new to you. Walburga was the proud matriarch of the ancient and most noble house of Black. Her reputation made the room and its appalling contents all the more concerning. Dark magic was definitely at play, something you had no experience in, and confronting that will always be terrifying to you. Regardless, you remember spotting some books strewn about the room and in your search for answers to help Belby with the Wolfsbane potion, you were willing to get your hands on those books for the research. It’ll be like hitting two birds with one stone; your investigations will also bring you closer to figuring out what the original Walburga was up to.

Taking a breath, you absorb the sound of the grandfather clock striking 5 pm and watch as the secret parlour entrance appears before you once more. This time, you know what to expect, so you came prepared with some spells in mind as well as something to cover the sacrilegious, bloody ritual placed at the very centre of the room. You open the door and wrinkle your nose. It’s dark and musty. With a swish of your wand and a small incantation uttered under your breath, you will the wall lamps to liven up the space with a warm glow. You step in as the heavy doors shut behind you and frown at the dismal room despite the lamps’ touch of light. This time, you aim your spell onto the heavy curtains across the room. The thick, heavy drapes gently pull apart, allowing sunlight to flood the space, and you happily go about fixing up the disorderly area. First, you open the window, encouraging the fresh breeze to sweep inside and wash away the old mustiness suspended in the air.

Tidying up where you can, you leave the central ritual largely untouched, wanting to investigate it later on. The rotting owl carcass was the only thing you handled, magicking it away and relishing in the peace that floods you as soon as it disappears. That poor creature must have suffered a lot from Walburga’s hands; you felt horrible for simply throwing it away, but the suffering and poor intentions it symbolised were too overwhelming to ignore and keep. If you wanted to be productive about the room, it needed to go. Other than that, your main objective was the books and the loose pages that were carelessly strewn about. With a helpful swish of your wand, you collect all the papers and books into neat piles. Another flick shrinks them to a miniature size that you step forth to easily pocket.

That’ll do for now.

Satisfied, you hurry out of the room and shut the door firmly behind you after turning the lamps off and shutting the windows. Despite the rotten owl carcass being gone, the claustrophobia clung to you like a parasite unwilling to part. It weighed heavily on your form and made breathing far too difficult to withstand for a long period despite the fresh air filtering in. You’ll happily investigate the books and pages in your home office. It’ll help to analyse your evidence with a clear mind and in a space you can easily associate with unfaltering focus.

Shaking off the bad energy that still clung to you from the parlour, you make your way into your home office and take a seat behind your desk. The strange fact about these books, you find, is that all except one don’t have any distinguishing covers. The only book with a cover was the one left wide open at the centre of the writing desk and had its pages scornfully ripped out. Tracing the vintage leather cover of the defiled book, you frown at its obsolete title. These were symbols you couldn’t read, and you dread to think that the pages were written with the same indecipherable words. Flicking through the pages, a brief examination, you groan.

“Great...” you sigh at the offending symbols that stare at you mockingly from the decrepit pages of the ancient book. As you suspected, the book’s contents were also written in the same illegible language as the front cover’s title. Until you can find a way to decode the foreign language, you’ll keep the book and its loose pages in an empty drawer at your desk, one with a helpful little lock on it. Optimistically, you hope that the blank-covered books didn’t have the same issue. The random book you grab weighs heavy in your hands but in an oddly familiar way. Peculiar… Thinking nothing of it, you flick to the first page and gasp.

‘CHAPTER ONE’

‘OWL POST’

‘Harry Potter was a highly unusual boy in many ways. For one thing...’ This was the third Harry Potter book — one of your favourites in the series.

With a shake of your head, you hurriedly flick through the pages as the pebble in your stomach grows into a boulder and fixes you to your chair. Rushing to open another book, you’re, again, met with more familiar passages from the beloved book series you grew up loving and often turned to for comfort in your adult years. All seven blank-covered books were the seven full books from the Harry Potter series! You think you’re going to be sick… she had the books… Walburga had the bloody Harry Potter books! How did she get them?!

“You’re unusually quiet today, Walburga...” you utter to yourself, urging the standardly shrieking witch in the back of your mind to step up and answer your racing questions. “I know you’re in there somewhere. Are you scared I found you out? What were you planning to do with all this new information, huh?” You drum your nervous fingers along one of the book’s blank hard covers.

“Well?!…” you wait for a response you weren’t going to receive, “Answer. Me. You. Ugly. Scheming. Pretentious. Bitch of a mother!” you spit and grit through your clenching teeth, trying your best not to raise your voice too loud. Getting Regulus or Orion’s attention now wouldn’t be ideal. You don’t know how long you wait for a response, but it was clear that you weren’t going to receive any. Begrudgingly, you lock away the Harry Potter books as well, ensuring that they couldn’t be accessed without a key; if these books got into the wrong hands, it wouldn’t end well for anybody, lest the very characters you were fighting for. What a heavy burden this will be.

There was a positive to this, however. You can rely on these books for information on the world and the Horcruxes.

16th October 1971 | Hogwarts, Gryffindor Common Room

Sirius couldn’t believe how content he felt in his current environment. He worried that with the recent changes at home, he would miss being with Regulus and his newly changed mother; however, due to the constant stream of letters they exchanged, he lacked that sense of homesickness. And, although he spent the same amount of time on writing letters back as he did writing up his homework, leaving his wrist terribly exhausted, he was content.

Hogwarts and Gryffindor house had become his second home, especially with the people he had surrounded himself with and the few he established as his close friends, especially James. Unlike his brotherhood with Regulus, Sirius had found a camaraderie with James that isn’t based on any blood relation, making their immediate bond that much more special to him. They veer to one another like binary stars, both gravitationally bound and orbiting each other. Sirius, with his aristocratic upbringing and rebellious nature; James, with his untamed energy and proneness for attracting the attention of those around him. However, it wasn’t only them. There was Remus, their shy and quiet friend with bibliophile tendencies. Sirius found that the best way to get him talking was to speak on books, something he was well-versed in, thanks to Regulus. And then, there was Peter, who made his eagerness to be part of the group known, always trailing after them, cracking his hilariously unfunny jokes, enchanted by James and Sirius’ boundless charisma, desperate to replicate it and make it his own, while also captivated by Remus’ smarts and bookishness, always looking to him for academic inspiration.

The first couple of months consisted of typical school things, making friends, getting into a routine and indulging in education. However, after the trouble they had found themselves in when trying to follow Remus the night of that haunting full moon, the boys have grown a tendency to create and find trouble.

Late one evening, James and Sirius were taking advantage of the mostly deserted common room, observing the only other people there, a pair of older students arguing over a wizarding chessboard. With a cheeky smirk and his round glasses slipping down his nose, James leaned over to whisper in Sirius’ ear, “Do you know what would make this more entertaining?” When Sirius looks to his friend, he sees the contagious glimmer of mischief in his hazel eyes.

“What?” Sirius can feel the swell of impishness infect him and pull the edges of his own lips up into a smirk. He knows that, whatever James suggests, he’s going to like what he has to say.

“If their pieces started arguing back.” They share a silent, maniacal laugh between them, expressed purely through their eyes.

“Let’s do it!” Sirius whispered back with an air of eagerness. It was so tempting to laugh aloud, carefree and raucous, but he was wary of the prefect standing close by. “How did that animation spell go, again?”

Not knowing the spell wasn’t a big obstacle for the two, they remained undeterred and went to enlist Remus. Typical of their prim and proper friend, Remus looked horrified at the suggestion, but there was a level of intrigue in his eyes that Sirius eagerly pointed out and used to convince him enough to indulge them. Together, they scoured their charms books for potentially helpful spells and were pointed to the correct chapters by Remus. Peter, poor Peter, was also roped in for the extra labour, unable to resist James and Sirius’ convincing arguments and twinkling smirks. Remus sends the portly boy a disappointed look but blushes when Peter returns the same disappointment towards him as if to say, ‘You volunteered to help first, mate. Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Well, they targeted me first,’ was what was conveyed in the look Remus had sent him back. Nevertheless, it was all in good humour, and the two smiled about it to themselves for a moment before Sirius and James complained that they were hardly helping and pushed their noses down into the pages with them. It took several nights, but they believed they had found the perfect spell. Thankfully, the two argumentative Gryffindors routinely played their game of chess on weekend evenings. James and Sirius practised the spell several times in their dorm room before they were confident in its execution. On the day of their grand chessboard prank, Peter stood by the Prefect on duty, nervously keeping watch as Remus pretended to read a book by the fireplace, and James and Sirius went in for their rehearsed stunt.

Despite their endless practice, however, their first attempt was a disaster! Rather than the pawns coming to life, James pointed the incantation and made it explode instead. The chess piece went out with a puff of black smoke. The only thing left of was its sooty remains, forever marking the chessboard. As the two chess players gasped at the sudden explosion and argued to death, firing accusations at the other for being the one to make it happen, Sirius shook his head disapprovingly.

“Brilliant one, James,” Sirius sarcastically comments, clapping his friend on the shoulder as he grumbles to himself. “We’ll try again, though. And we won’t stop until there’s success.”

Not so easily dissuaded, the two continued their attempts until the chess pieces became an incoherent mess of chatter that rivalled the chess players’ own arguments. It had become such a recurring spectacle that the common area had gradually filled up with other students throughout the weeks, eyeing the chess game for anything interesting that had been rumoured to happen. However, in their attempt at success, they had abandoned all caution for getting caught in the act, leaving them face to face with a very unamused, very irate fifth-year with flaring nostrils.

“Why don’t you find something more productive to do with your time?” the fifth-year lashes out, barely able to contain their irritation. “This isn’t very funny!”

“Au Contraire~ my friend,” Sirius sings playfully as James chuckles beside him, “It was very funny, right guys?” he asks the audience, who cheer wildly, prompting him and James to bow at the waist. Both were happy to provide the entertainment of the night. From his usual seat at the fireplace, Remus rolls his eyes but hides his smirk behind his book as Peter snickers to himself, quite proud of having participated in the background.

And so began the group’s reign of harmless, silly pranks. In the following weeks, the Gryffindor common room became the group’s testing facility for experiments, much to the amusement and irritation of their fellow Gryffindor housemates. It was a double-edged sword; they managed to earn equal amounts of love and abhor for their efforts.

One week, they had enchanted the cushions into making flatulent sounds whenever someone sat down, a surprising suggestion from Remus, who was well-versed in muggle pranks and had introduced them to the concept of a whoopie-cushion. Another week, they enchanted pages to appear blank in borrowed books from the library that were haphazardly left out, a lesson they wanted to teach those who were careless with books in Remus’ place. Another evening, they had enchanted the dining hall goblets to sing ‘God Save the Queen’ whenever someone tried to take a sip of their pumpkin juice, pushing everyone to drink simple water instead. The pranks weren’t sophisticated, but it was enough that they managed to draw out waves upon waves of laughter from their peers and even some teachers. Professor Flitwick was especially impressed with the prank purely from a charm-casting perspective. Remus, however, was stubbornly pouty about the whole thing, constantly muttering on about how irresponsible and silly they were being.

“Come on, Lupin,” James pleads playfully, cosying up beside the bookish brunette, “You can’t deny helping us with that chessboard prank. Don’t pretend you’re above it. Why, I’d go so far as to say that you’d be quite brilliant if you actually put in the effort. You’d have Sirius and me beat!”

Remus buries his nose further into his book, avoiding the contagious mischief in his friends’ hazel eyes, “I only helped because leaving you two to your own devices only spells trouble,” he huffs, lowering his voice to murmur to himself, “you would have blown up the entire common room, otherwise…”

“Exactly!” Sirius claps and points to Remus, settling down on his other side and draping an arm over his shoulders, “You’re morally obligated to keep us from doing something truly catastrophic. You’re the good to our bad Lupin—”

“So you admit that what you did is bad.”

“And you admit that you’re doing the good~” Sirius was such a stubborn wall. “Consider it a public service.”

“Oh, don’t roll your eyes again at us; do that too often, and they’ll get stuck back there—” James comments off-handedly but comes to a stuttering stop when a devious thought comes to mind, “Say... there’s an idea~”

“No, James! No!” Remus protests, quickly purging the thought of yet another prank from James’ mind. He knew exactly where James’ thoughts were trailing towards from his words, and he didn’t like the notion one bit! Peter snickers to himself with Sirius at the display. James held his hands in surrender as Remus pointed a narrowed stare at him, a silent warning against committing such a cruel prank.

Soon enough, however, Remus also became a willing participant. At the ripe age of eleven years, he was more fascinated than repelled by James and Sirius’ creative antics, stemming from the perversity of James’ natural prankster nature and glamourised by Sirius’ likeness to flamboyance, giving the otherwise amateurish pranks a vivacious flare. It wasn’t only Remus, however; Peter was also roped in, easily swayed by his friends’ characters, somewhat addicted to pleasing them and being part of the group.

While James and Sirius spearheaded the misbehaviour, coming up with endless pranks, Remus suggested they set aside a separate notebook to document every idea, establishing himself as the group’s moderator. He was the one to suggest modifying elements of their plans and encouraging them to test the spells beforehand, personally doing so himself most of the time. Meanwhile, Peter had the space to become emboldened by James and Sirius’ encouragement. However, there remained a hesitance that Remus deeply understood in Peter whenever their portly friend pulled away from playing any of the daring roles in their schemes.

“Sirius and James are better for it,” Peter excused and was happy for his excuse to be so easily accepted.

Their dynamic was gradually being set: James and Sirius were the primary driving forces, dubbing them the ringleaders by many. They were constantly pouring out their many prank ideas into the notebook Remus had provided them with. Remus was the strategist who safeguarded their plans and affiliated spells. He liked to think that he was doing public service, ensuring that his friends didn’t get carried away and making certain that their plans didn’t spiral out of control. Leaving Peter as the loyal accomplice, always the first one to step up and prove his willingness to share in the daringness and mischief. They had become a solid group with a mounting reputation of being equal irritants and entertainers to the professors and students. Their friendship was ossified by shared laughter and devious plots whispered amongst them, their loyalties to each other as hard as diamonds.

Other than their pranks, however, James had other occupations, one that flooded his mind with the image of a beautiful red-haired girl, who had the most striking emerald eyes. Her name: is Lily Evans. As beautiful as the flower of her namesake. He was smitten the instant he saw her on the platform, smiling widely, her eyes sparkling with rapture as she waved her family goodbye and stepped onto the train with her luggage. Not only was she the most beautiful girl James had ever laid eyes on, but she was also brilliant. As a muggleborn, he didn’t expect her to be so bright and well-read on the wizarding world, but that only made him fall even deeper for her. In one of their early Potion classes, she had brewed the cure for boils with such effortless grace that their potions professor (Professor Slughorn) was brimming with pride, his eyes taking a shine to her already. James, on the other hand, wasn’t so talented. Despite his father’s success in potions, he had managed the impossible task of melting his cauldron, which earned him a thorough scolding from Professor Slughorn. He had been so distracted by the red-haired beauty in his periphery, that he barely registered the heat of the fire, and Peter was too hesitant to voice anything. From across the room, Sirius and Remus snickered under their breaths at him, earning them a narrowed gaze, but what had killed James was the unimpressed look Lily had sent his way.

So much for a good first impression.

As determined as he was to succeed with his pranks, however, James had the same stubbornness when it came to his newfound love. No, this wasn’t a mere crush; this was love. The same love his parents shared and were never shy about displaying. He wanted a soft, everlasting love like them, and he knew— deep down —he knew that it had to be with Lily Evans.

From afar, he watched her with longing, adoring eyes, admiring her subtle habits and dazzling smile, blown away by her viridescent stare. Her laughter easily fills up a room, and he finds himself eager to draw out as much of the sweet sound from her as possible. However, there was a conflicting emotion when James quickly realised the astonishing amount of time she spent with Severus Snape, a Slytherin boy with greasy black hair, paper-pale skin and dark, dark eyes. They appeared to share an interest in potions, always becoming the most efficient potion partners whenever they shared a potions class with the Slytherins. However, that doesn’t account for how often James sees them together outside of class, this simple fact making a bitter dislike fester from deep inside him, immediately and viscerally so.

“What does she even see in him?” James scoffs, muttering to himself resentfully as he struggles to come up with any new pranks; his mind is too preoccupied. Even the heat of the fireplace couldn’t tempt him into indulging in the cosy atmosphere that evening.

Sirius, who had been plotting beside him, shrugged, “Maybe Evans just has a thing for greasy hair.”

James makes a disgusted face, “No way! Not her,” he refuses to believe she would have such an unorthodox preference, “I’m going to do something about it,” Sirius raises a brow in silent question, his interest piqued; he’s always up for a good prank, no matter the target. With a devilish smirk, James pulled Sirius in by the shoulders, and the two began to scheme.

The following morning, it quickly became known that the Slytherin table was bewitched. Another prank. Whenever someone tried to eat their breakfast, their utensils flew out of their hands in protest and began sword fighting on the table. It caused such a ruckus that James and Sirius earned themselves a week’s long detention, but James couldn’t care less. Despite seeing her supposed friend’s misery from across the table, the defeated look Snape had sent her was enough to make Lily Evans laugh—really laugh— the sound so beautiful and twinkling like the stars, James felt no guilt. That was his reward, and it trumped any punishment. He would do it again and again just to hear her laugh once more.

The Christmas holidays were fast approaching, and the boys had made quite the reputation of themselves, their pranks only having grown bolder as the days went by. It was equally exciting and apprehensive all at once to everyone except the four, as anybody could be their potential, new ‘victim’. Even professors weren’t exempt from their schemes; McGonagall could attest to that when she had to suffer having vivid blue hair for an entire afternoon following an ‘accidental’ charm they had cast during her transfiguration class. That wasn’t escaping her, however, and they landed themselves another evening of detention with Filch.

Despite the chaos they caused, however, it was never mean-spirited. The end goal for their antics was always laughter. James was adamant about earning it from Lily Evans, his love. Sirius was adamant about earning it for himself, wanting the most from his school experience away from home, just so he always had something to write to Regulus about. Remus was adamant about ensuring that everybody was laughing, holding onto the belief that the pranks weren’t funny if only a select few had the privilege to laugh. And Peter was just happy to be surrounded by laughter and high spirits. The group’s ‘prankster’ reputation was sealed. They had fostered an unbreakable brotherhood.

James still had a long way to go before he even had the chance to earn Lily’s affection and heart. But, for the moment, he was content with the brothers he had found and bonded with, brothers he didn’t have the pleasure of growing up beside but eventually managed to find in his dorm mates and friends.

18th December 1971 | Hogwarts, Dining hall

Sirius was eager to get to breakfast, and considering James was the only morning person around, the two of them went to the dining hall at a good time despite it being the weekend. Remus and Peter weren’t as willing to get an early breakfast; however, favouring sleep and groggily ushered the other two away, promising they’d meet them at the dining all in their own time.

“Just save our seats,” Remus asked them to promise, his voice dripping with sleep.

“Funny how you’re not the typical morning person on the weekdays,” James begins after stretching his arms up and giving a resounding groan, “but you always get really excited whenever it’s Saturday morning.” Despite stating this, it was obvious what James was getting at.

“Oh, shut it,” Sirius huffs with a roll of his eyes, “it’s just routine, is all.” The eldest Black brother didn’t lie. It was routine for your letters to arrive on Saturdays, whereas Regulus liked to keep a steady flow of letters coming throughout the week. Although this could demonstrate a lack of interest on your part, Sirius understood that you were busy with the household and taking care of Regulus; he was only happy that you had yet to miss a single week. That amount of dedication was more than enough for him. He’s also very happy about the news he received from you and his favourite uncle, Alphard. His uncle had expressed his concerns in letters following his sorting ceremony, but Sirius was quick to reassure him, promising that his mother was just as happy about his sorting as he was. Sirius could tell that his Uncle wasn’t convinced and patiently awaited the day he would see for himself that his mother had changed for the better. And what a brilliant day that was. He received letters immediately from Regulus and his Uncle. he had to wait for his mother’s Saturday letter, but the good news was consistent throughout the different dialogues, proving its truth.

Good news seemed to be the only thing Sirius reads in the letters he receives from home. And he’d like to reciprocate that, especially for his mother. He wants to do well by her despite her assurances that she will always love and support him no matter what. He omits a large portion of his letters’ contents for you, not out of malice but in consideration for your standing as his mother. You’ve made such a turnaround for him and Regulus, he owes it to you to be a good student. So he writes all about his good grades and excellence in class, especially for his flying lessons, where things could easily become dangerous. He wouldn’t dare write a single word to you about the amount of mischief he and the boys have been up to. Yes, he felt guilty, but he was only sparing you the worry. He wasn’t even the only one omitting such details; he knows for a fact that James, Peter and Remus were also doing the same.

“Finally, breakfast!” Sirius regales, sitting at his usual seat and quickly piling up his plate. James, who sat across from him, mirrored his actions with the same amount of enthusiasm. Both had a bottomless pit for a stomach, a similarity they enjoyed sharing. They enjoyed sharing many similarities, actually, differences too. All throughout breakfast, James would see Sirius look up constantly, searching the enchanted ceilings for any owls, his eyes sharpening and glowing with eagerness at the sight of a familiar gold ribbon that would streak through the air with a letter written just for him.

“Mother’s letter~” James says in a mocking, airy tone, mimicking his friend’s common practice as soon as he receives a familiar, wax-sealed envelope addressed to him in your swirling handwriting.

“Bugger off, James!” Sirius laughs, playfully kicking his friend in the shin from beneath the table, earning a small exclamation of pain. But the grins on their faces haven’t slipped off. This was normal teasing, not worth getting offended over; a great way to start their day.

“What does it say?” James asks through a mouthful of toast, butter and strawberry jam — he's almost completely incoherent.

“Like I’d tell you.” Sirius rolls his eyes, unfurling the letter within and reading to himself with a smile. In his head, he imagines your voice reading the words to him personally. He often does this. He does it for your letters, for Regulus’ and for his Uncle Alphard’s too.

‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ He smiles at your usual opening. It never fails to make his chest flood with warmth at your affectionate address. He still can’t believe he receives such letters from you despite not being in Slytherin. You were once so adamant that he be sorted into the House of Snakes, but not anymore, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. Because, you not caring about which house he gets into, shows that you accept him for him, and that’s all he could ever wish for.

‘It’s not long now until you come home. We all miss you terribly, Regulus and I, especially so.’ Sirius scoffs at the subtle mention of his father. He appreciates your delicateness on the matter, but he couldn’t care less; he gets enough familial love from you and Regulus, and even his uncle. Despite his father being largely neglectful, Sirius’ days are filled with warmth and happiness, knowing that he has you and Reggie and Uncle Alphard— his version of family is complete. Nothing else needs to be added or subtracted, it’s perfect as is, no matter how small compared to the rest of his family tree.

‘The Yule holidays will be a special one, I have so many fun activities planned for the family.’ Sirius’ eyebrows fly to his hairline, his eyes widening with excitement at your words. The winter holidays were always a dull affair, with the celebrations mainly consisting of soirees and events with the other pureblood, sacred 28 families. For the first time, Sirius was allowing himself to feel actual elation for what may come. Now that you’ve changed for the better, he wonders what sorts of fantastical things you’ve planned. He recalls the fun extracurricular lessons you meticulously put in place for him and Reggie, lessons that weren’t tedious to get through or spiritless in nature; rather, he always looked forward to them and often found himself bouncing around in anticipation for what you may have planned that day. From that judgment alone, he knows he’s in for a real treat.

‘Regulus doesn’t know anything, only that I have something special planned for all of us. And you will be just as clueless as him until the day finally arrives.’ With a grin Sirius, shakes his head, eyes filled with amusement. He doesn’t mind waiting for a surprise he knows will be anything but boring. It’ll be better than any of those soirees and stiff dinners. He’s heard many tales from his close friends about how they spend their winter holidays with their families, and it always made him a little jealous when theirs seemed more fun than his. James had hot chocolate every night and decorated the tree together with his parents, who also allowed him to fly outside on his broom so long as he dressed well. Peter baked gingerbread with his mother, and they assembled a house together for the little gingerbread men to live in. Remus would watch muggle Christmas films with his parents every night leading up to Christmas day and get up early to unwrap presents, after which they would cook and eat breakfast together. It was all quite mundane, but it sounded so magical to Sirius. He wants that for Regulus. He wants it for his family. Maybe this year, their winter holiday, their Yule, would feel a lot more magical.

‘I can’t wait to hear all about Hogwarts from you in person. I’ve missed you so much. All I want is for you to hurry home so we can all be together again. It’s truly not the same without you here.’

As he finishes off the letter, James begins to laugh, filling in Remus and Peter as they groggily take their seats beside them. “This loon was all giddy over his letter again,” James teases, pointing a finger at Sirius, who huffs but fails to hide his smile and simply returns the letter to its envelope. It was a careful ritual he did to preserve each and every letter he received. He’s eaten out an entire tin of the biscuits you had baked with Regulus and sent him, and he used it to store all the letters he has received from the two of you. It was his most precious treasure at school. Sirius didn’t care for much, and he’s been able to better reign in his temper, but if anyone were to touch those letters, he’d go on a blind rampage.

“It’s good to know that his Mother cares so much about him,” Remus comments, smiling through his tiredness as he piles his plate on with a helping of scrambled eggs and a few slices of bacon.

Sirius smirks and gives James a look, “That’s right, why aren’t you happy for me Jamie?~” Peter begins to snicker as James splutters a response, “Are you jealous I get more letters from my Mother than you?”

“Shut up!” James flicks a splatter of jam at him from across the table with the bread knife he had been using to spread it over his toast.

Shielding himself with his hands, Sirius laughs, “Oi! Watch it!”

“…Wanker…” James utters under his breath, but there’s no lingering malice between them. This was as peaceful as breakfast can go between the four.

Another regular occurrence at breakfast is James’ wandering eyes and his longing stare at a renowned, witty and otherwise disinterested redhead. A fellow Gryffindor who had a close and unusual friendship with a Slytherin. They made for an unusual pair, but Sirius had no problems with them. His main focus was on James’s obvious crush.

“Evans again, eh?” Peter pipes up through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, only to snicker when James hurriedly shushes him. Sirius wasn’t the only one interested in James’ transparent puppy love, it seems.

“Shut your gob, Peter; she’ll hear you.” There was an evident blush on James’ cheeks, and the entire group giggled at his expense. The playful banter, however, evaporates as soon as James sees Lily stand to head out with her supposed friend, Snape. His expression falls so drastically, the tension in the air becomes palpable, “I don’t like him one bit...”

“Why? Because he’s with your girlfriend?” Sirius snickers, trying to keep the atmosphere light-hearted only to duck out of the way when James sends another splatter of jam his way. The next time he does that, Sirius swears he’ll try to aim the jam into his mouth just to be silly and rile James up more.

“No! I don’t!”

“Liar liar! Lying to your friends isn’t a very good habit Jamie~”

James rolls his eyes while Remus and Peter giggle to themselves, “I’m serious—”

“I thought you were James? I’m Sirius,” Remus and Peter begin cackling, sharing high fives between themselves and Sirius as James grumbles lowly. Suddenly, his friend reaches over the table to swat at his hair until Sirius pleads for him to stop. The two of them share an amused grin until James sighs, seemingly having reigned in his bitterness.

“He’s a Slytherin…and she’s a Gryffindor, it just doesn’t make sense.”

Sirius raised a brow, “What’s wrong with Slytherin?” his lips had moved before he could stop himself, and he looked around cautiously for a moment, knowing the rivalry between the two houses well, “It’s just that… I could have been in Slytherin.”

“But that’s just it; you weren’t sorted into Slytherin, he was,” James expresses, clearly speaking about Snape.

Sirius stays silent as Remus quickly picks the conversation back up, not wanting the tension to continue needlessly, “Just admit your crush and that you’re jealous James,” This earns a smirk from Sirius and Peter, and they all simultaneously give James a singular, teasing look.

“I’m not jealous of him!”

“Seems to me like you are~"

James groans and decides to leave the subject altogether. “My breakfast is getting cold because of you. Leave me alone.” They share another light-hearted laugh and finally focus back on the better subject of food.

21st December 1971 | King’s Cross Station, Platform 9¾ 

Standing at the platform with Regulus vibrating with excitement at your side and Orion standing off near the brick walls of the station, together, as a family, you await Sirius’ arrival. It was a cold winter’s day, but you could barely feel the chilling temperatures through your eagerness. You wonder if Sirius had grown much taller since the last time you saw him, you wonder if he still has the same preferences in food, and you wonder if he was happy to reunite with you all again. None of that mattered, however, not when he would be arriving soon, safe and sound — you just couldn’t wait to have him in your arms again.

Regulus has been especially excited for today, eager to dress himself for the occasion — in fact, he was the first one at the door this morning. You were second, and Orion came trailing behind as the third. Kreacher was helpfully staying behind to finish up the grand lunch spread you had begun making for Sirius to come home to. He must be terribly tired from the long journey. But it’s nothing some good food and family time at the table could help.

“How much longer do you think he’ll be, Mother?” Regulus asks, looking up at you with starry eyes.

“I don’t know, little love,” you express honestly, observing the congregating families around you, “but I hope he’ll get here soon.” The two of you share a smile and look back onto the tracks once more, fervidly awaiting the arrival of the train.

“I…I think I hear something,” Regulus comments softly, straining his ears and stretching his neck out to better see the path of the potentially arriving train.

“Regulus, be careful!” you fret, hurriedly pulling him back to safety, but he had no care for it, already bouncing in place.

“It’s coming! The train is coming!” His elated exclamation can be heard throughout the platform and makes all the surrounding families straighten in anticipation for their sons and daughters, who are finally coming home for the holidays.

“I know it’s exciting, but there wasn’t a need for you to put yourself at risk, alright? Regulus?” you look into his eyes meaningfully as he nods, “Promise me you won’t do something so silly again.”

The soft pink cheeks of your youngest, due to the biting cold, become all the more pink from your worry, but he nods agreeably. “Yes, Mother. I’m sorry.” Smiling satisfactorily, you kiss his crown and pull yourselves back even further as the train finally arrives at the station. It arrives with a flurry of smoke and an echoing horn. Sirius is here. You try to keep your heart at bay, feeling as though it would fly out of your chest, just at the idea of Sirius being so close. Glancing behind you, Orion leant against the brick wall, looking around impatiently and with such dull disinterest that your excitement was momentarily overcast. What an unpleasant attitude to have. Was he not happy for Sirius to be home after so long? He can stay back there for all you care. For now, you focus on searching the globulous crowds flocking to the train entrances for your eldest son.

You made sure to clearly inform Regulus about your plans for collecting Sirius at the station. Rightfully predicting the large mass of people, you warned him to keep his distance and stay close to you. It was important that he not let his excitement get the best of him, or else he would be putting himself in danger by carelessly mixing in with the crowds of people.

“Stay close, Reggie,” you remind him, and he gives your hand a reassuring clench.

Searching the crowds carefully, you try to find Sirius as quickly as possible. You try to pick out his pale skin, his angular features, his glittering grey eyes and his mess of black hair. The search was made rather difficult because of the bustling crowds, but you stood your ground, only cursing the masses in your head for keeping you away from your son longer than needed.

“Mother!” came a distant but approaching shout, and your head snapped to the voice’s direction, “Reggie!” Sirius breaks through the crowd with an adoring, toothy grin that you had long missed.

“Sirius!” Regulus shouts and runs to his brother with open arms. From your place, you watch their reunion with fond eyes, doing your best to wait patiently for when Sirius would make it the rest of the way to you.

“I missed you so much!” Sirius laughs into his little brother’s hair.

“I missed you too, Siri…” Regulus sighs into his older brother’s chest. It’s been too long since they’ve last seen each other. Those letters weren’t enough. “Come!” he grabs his older brother’s hand and leads him back to you. “Mother’s missed you too!”

Sirius looks up and grins before running into your wide-open arms, sighing into the thick fabric of your jacket. You use one hand to shrink his luggage and have Regulus pocket them while Orion begrudgingly carries his owl’s cage. You’ve knelt to meet him at his height, pressing his face into your shoulder as you prop your chin over his own.

“Oh! My darling, my darling~” you coo, finally allowing yourself to savour the feel of him in your arms, “I’ve missed you so so much!”

“I missed you too, Mother!” Sirius grins, his spirit bright and shining through his beautiful grey eyes, “Thank you for picking me up.” his politeness makes you awe and begin peppering his face with kisses. “S-stop!” he chuckles, clearly not opposed to the affection in the slightest. “You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

“Friends?” you stutter, pausing as you look behind him to see the young marauders holding back devious smirks at the sight. It appears as though they have already introduced themselves to Regulus, who finds his way back to you with a wide smile.

“They all sound nice, Mother,” Regulus comments, positioning himself beside you and facing the three school boys who arrived with his brother, doing his best to ignore Orion’s displeased expression and narrowed gaze. His father had been very irritable and impatient this morning. It was very disappointing to see, but Regulus didn’t allow it to pollute his personal delight over Sirius’ return.

“Let me introduce you,” Sirius starts with a messy-haired young man with round glasses, standing at a healthy height and with the faintest dimples showing in his cheeks. “This one is called James,”

“This one?!” James blanches, making you all laugh before he finally greets you properly, “James Potter, here! Good afternoon, Ma’am,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, James,” you smile kindly at him, trying to temper your racing mind and heart as best as you can. The marauders were right in front of you. How surreal! So distracted were you at keeping your reactions reasonable that you completely missed the slight shock that crossed all three boys’ expressions before they melted into a soft look of admiration — one similar to puppy love. You’re pretty... was their silent but unanimous conclusion. They only caught a glimpse of you from the dining hall on the day Sirius had been called to see Dumbledore, but seeing you up close made them realise how small of a glimpse they caught of your beauty. Perhaps it was also because of how loving they knew you to be through Sirius that their puppy love blossomed so easily.

“This is Peter,” Sirius gestures to a portly boy with sandy blonde hair and chubby cheeks flushed red from the cold.

“H-hello, Madam, it’s Peter Pettigrew,” Peter greets shyly, finishing off his introduction whilst avoiding your eyes.

“Hello, Peter.” You can’t help but admire how adorable-looking Peter appeared. Right now, he’s just an innocent child who’s only beginning to figure out who he truly is as a person. Hopefully, you can help him avoid getting pulled into the darkness and help the boys form a stronger bond that keeps him on the right side. You’ve seen the online discussions of how Peter could have been the parallel for Neville before it all went wrong; in this reality, you were determined to make them exact parallels. You won’t allow Peter to be led astray.

“And lastly, this is Remus Lupin.” Sirius corrects himself to make a full introduction this time and turns you to a brunette with faint scars marring the skin of his neck, jaw and face, his sweet features all bundled up in the cosiest grandpa jumper you’ve ever seen.

“A pleasure, Ma’am,” There’s a shyness in Remus’ smile that makes you want to coo at him but manage to hold yourself back. Taking in his precious appearance makes your determination to help Damocles with the Wolfsbane potion grow all the more. A kind, innocent boy like him didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences of such a terrible ailment, especially one that was forced upon him at such a young age.

Smiling sweetly, you give a small nod, “The pleasure’s all mine, Remus, hello.” You take a moment to meet each of their gazes individually. “It’s wonderful to finally put a name to the face. Sirius has written so much about you in his letters,” The three share a teasing grin as Sirius goes a soft pink beside you.

“Mother!” he hisses under his breath, but you ignore him with a light laugh.

“My~ It feels as though I’m meeting celebrities,” James’ chest visibly puffs up as Remus and Peter tuck in their chins bashfully.

“It’s really nice of you to talk about us, Sirius,” Peter comments softly, his words genuine and his eyes grateful.

“Of course, I would,” Sirius defends, his embarrassment turning into smugness. He sees the perfect opportunity to poke fun at them and jumps at it, “I had no one else to rant about you sorry lot,”

“Excuse you!” James huffs, his hands leaving his hips to reach for Sirius, who ducks behind you with a laugh. Peter, on the other hand, pouts exaggeratedly while Remus shakes his head.

“Goodness,” you giggle to yourself as Sirius looks over your shoulder to make a funny face at James, who returns the gesture, soon being joined by Remus and Peter, all of them now pulling silly faces at each other. Regulus was tempted enough to join in, “You lot are a bunch of goofs.”

Regulus nods in agreement beside you, pretending that he hadn’t just joined in and giggled along, his eyes glittering with the idea that he may make the same fun friendships when he finally gets to go to Hogwarts next year. He’s never seen his brother so energetic and laid back before. If this was the effect Hogwarts had on his disposition, then he couldn’t wait to join in on the fun. Regulus has read about the group’s many pranks during school in Sirius’ letters, and although he was hesitant to indulge his elder brother’s misbehaviour at first, he soon fell into the wondrous magic such a brotherhood fostered. He wanted to be a part of it, too. He wanted to create his own.

“We need to get home. Hurry it up!” your husband demands from a step or two behind you, impatiently carrying Sirius’ owl in its cage.

“Really, Orion…” you huff, slowly standing and shooting the stone-faced, bitter mana scowl, “aren’t you the least bit interested in your eldest son’s close friends?” you ask, willing yourself to restrain the amount of bite in your tone, aware of the suddenly quiet and tense atmosphere between you. Orion has the most horrid habit of disturbing the peace.

“I’m interested in getting out of this cold. Hurry. Up!” he snaps once more before turning around to lead the way home. Sighing, you turn to the marauders and your two sons with an apologetic smile, hoping to ease their tense shoulders and tight expressions. “I’m sorry dears, but my husband’s anxious to get home,” they nod their heads in understanding.

“It’s okay, ma’am,” James offers a smile, helping to ease the tension even more. “I should really go find my own parents, too,”

“Of course, thank you for understanding,” reaching out, you softly begin petting Sirius’ hair as he stood at your side. “Perhaps we can invite you over for a get-together over the holidays? It would be nice to spend some time with each other over some tea and games.” The boys look at each other excitedly, their eyes and smiles wide with anticipation. Sirius and Regulus, however, look up at you in surprise. They didn’t expect this at all, but they should have; you’ve changed so much already. Naturally, you would be more willing to allow them to befriend and spend time with those they made their friends. Your sons’ chests filled with warmth at the thought and they couldn’t keep themselves from smiling widely.

“That’ll be great! Thanks!” James cheers.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Peter adds, his shyness disappearing into a bright-eyed smile.

Remus nods along happily, “I can’t wait!” You watch fondly as the 11-year-old marauders share a group hug before waving them off.

“Aren’t we going yet, Mother?” Regulus asks, tugging gently on your skirt. Both sons look at you with curious eyes.

“Of course, I just want to make sure your friends get to their parents safely,” your answer makes Sirius smile gratefully, and you all patiently watch and wait. It didn’t take long for James to greet his parents. He points you out, and you wave at him while his parents stare in shock. Their jaws dropped in surprise at the sight of the Black family’s matriarch happily waving at them with an uncharacteristically kind smile. The same happened with Remus when he reunited with his parents, too. Peter’s mother also shared the same astounded look but was unwilling to stay longer than needed and hurries him away.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

“Your friends were very lovely, Siri,” you comment sweetly as you all arrive back at 12 Grimmauld Place, dusting yourselves off as the green flames of the fireplace subsided “I wish we could have stayed longer.”

“It’s alright.” Sirius smiles up at you, appreciative of your open kindness to his friends, the complete opposite of his father’s judging stares. “They had their families to get back to—”

“What Took You So Long?!” Orion’s voice boomed and shook the walls of the living area, instantly riding the light-hearted nature of the atmosphere.

As Sirius and Regulus stiffened up and inched closer to you, you answer Orion calmly, leaning down to help the boys out of their coats, “We made sure Sirius’ friends returned to their families safely before leaving. Is that so wrong?” Orion scoffs, clearly annoyed that he was kept waiting around for you. “We didn’t mind the cold all that much but I know it was getting to be a lot for you, dear, we understand,” your husband flushes red at the cheeks and stomps off to his office with his tail tucked between his legs. It was hard to suppress your victorious smirk.

“I won’t be joining your lunch! Have the food be delivered to me in my office!” Orion’s reverberating voice disappears up the stairs with him. Good riddance.

“As you wish,” you then call for Kreacher to help you put the boys’ clothes away and serve Orion his helping of the lunch you had prepared for Sirius’ return.

“Right away, Mistress,” Kreacher smiles, magicking the coats to their rightful places once Regulus took Sirius’ shrunken luggage out from his pockets and finally turned to Sirius with a warm look, “Kreacher is most happy to have young master Sirius return,”

Sirius smiles back happily, “Thank you, Kreacher. It’s good to be back too,” giving his young master a nod, Kreacher disappears to deliver Orion’s plate while you usher the boys upstairs to unpack. Sirius can see the visible growth in Kreacher’s once anxious and gloomy nature. The house elf looked much happier now and it was a good sight to behold, a welcome change. Gone was the house elf that perpetuated the torment his mother and father inflicted onto him.

“I’m sure you two would want to have some time to catch up, but you don’t have to fully unpack just yet, lunch is waiting.” the three of you step into Sirius’ bedroom together, where you un-shrink his luggage for him.

“Thank you, Mother.” Sirius turns to you only to be pulled into your warm embrace once more.

“Not at all, sweetheart.” You pull away and lovingly caress his features. Starting from the top of his head, your soft touch drifts down to rest against his cheek. “It’s so good to have you back, Sirius. I missed you terribly.” Gently, you press a kiss to his forehead and move to his bedroom doorway. “I’ll be setting up the table downstairs. Try not to take too long, my loves, we don’t want the food getting cold.”

“Of course, Mother, see you downstairs.” Sirius grins, and the brothers watch as you leave the room, eagerly floating down the stairs to meet Kreacher in the kitchen, where you both share the task of prepping the table for everyone to eat. You were quite relieved that Orion wouldn’t be joining you. The recent meals you’ve shared have been rather tense, and it was clear that he was still bitter over Sirius’ unfilial behaviour that was the cause of him being sorted into Gryffindor rather than Slytherin. Honestly, he was more of a child than your two young sons.

The boys don’t spend too long up in Sirius’ room, both pulled to the kitchen and dining area by the delicious smell of food in the air. They also didn’t want to catch up too much by themselves; sharing their conversation with you over the food you had prepared was a far more pleasant idea.

“Everything smells so good!” Regulus expresses as he and Sirius step into the dining area, smiling at the sight of you bustling about the kitchen with Kreacher.

“Why thank you, little love,” Sirius looks to his younger brother at the new term of endearment he’s earned while he was away at school. There was a mix of jealousy and assurance in his eyes. You definitely took good care of Regulus when he was away. “The food I prepared is quite nostalgic, actually,” you giggle to yourself and urge them to step up beside you. As they do, their steps eager and swift, they gasp simultaneously. Sharing a smile for a moment, they look up to you again with glittering eyes, nostalgia swimming in the warmth flooding their chests.

“Hunter’s chicken and fish and chips!” Sirius exclaims, eying the hearty meal he had ordered at the pub when you all went school shopping with him earlier that year.

“That’s right.” You hand him his plate of Hunter’s chicken and urge him to sit at the table with it before handing Regulus his plate of fish and chips to do the same. “I’m saving the shepherd's pie for dinner tonight.” Orion had requested the hunter’s chicken earlier that day, so you would be eating the second portion of fish and chips. “Boys,” you call their attention before they can take up their knives and forks. Their hands stutter mid-air, and they look at you with curious eyes, wondering what you need of them. Hopefully, it was nothing serious. “Kreacher helped prepare this food with me. Can we thank him properly for his efforts, please?”

Smiling brightly, Regulus and Sirius search around for Kreaher, who bashfully pops into existence beside you, “Thank you for helping prepare the food, Kreacher,” Regulus smiles at the shy house elf who couldn’t even meet his eyes.

“Yes, thank you, Kreacher. Everything looks amazing!” Sirius adds, his words sincere and his eyes crinkling at the edges from his appreciative smile.

“Young masters a-are most—” Kreacher looks to you briefly for some assurance before continuing, “most welcome...”

Nodding happily, you also offer your thanks and finally allow Kreacher to disappear elsewhere. He was slowly getting accustomed to the new dynamic between the matriarch and his young masters, but it wasn’t to the point of comfortably eating with you at the dinner table just yet. That habit of his was so stubbornly ingrained, that you doubt it would be an easy habit to vanquish entirely.

“Good job, dears,” you gesture for them to continue with their lunch, but they don’t move. Instead, they turn their full attention to you.

“Thank you for the delicious food too, Mother,” Sirius begins, “I already know this is going to taste amazing! I’m so happy to be home again!” admittedly his words and toothy grin make you tear up a bit and you quickly blink the tears away, wanting to keep the day a happy occasion.

“Sirius’ is right, thank you so much, Mother. I’m going to savour every last bite!” Regulus adds, pushing you all the more into breaking apart before them.

“You two stop teasing your Mother and eat your food already!” They laugh at your playful huff and finally dig into their lovingly prepared meals. The time was spent thoroughly enjoying the delicious, nostalgic taste of the food while also questioning Sirius about his time spent at Hogwarts. It was exciting to hear about his months spent away first-hand, as the Marauders era was always relatively vague. Yours and Regulus’ attentions were fully captivated by Sirius’ fun retelling of lessons and things he’s learned. You were beginning to get suspicious however; not a single prank against the other students was mentioned, but you were confident in his mischievous antics. He could keep it away from you in his letters home, but you were hopeful that he’d be willing to share the details in person. It was a little disappointing as that was something you were very excited to hear about. Although you were willing to let it go. You’re happy as is to hear whatever Sirius was willing to share. That was more than enough for you.

“My, my, it sounds like you’ve had a wonderful time,” you comment, smiling as Sirius affirms with an enthusiastic nod. “You’ve got Regulus all riled up and eager to join you at Hogwarts now,” you and Sirius giggle together at the image of his sparkly-eyed younger brother across the table.

“It sounds like so much fun, you can’t blame me,” Regulus expresses, tucking his chin into his chest sweetly and with a sheepish pink hue on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry for teasing, dear, you’re just too adorable.”

“And I can’t wait until you join me too, Reggie!” Sirius explains, “It’ll be even more fun when you get to Hogwarts too; we can hang out all the time!”

“Yeah!”

Smiling at their interaction, you helpfully try to reign in their excitement, “Just make sure to allow your brother to make his own friends too, Sirius,”

“Of course! And when you do, we can form one big group of friends.” Sirius’ excitement is still just as animated and contagious. But you were happy for his response and had no complaints when Regulus appeared to rise up all the more in his seat.

“That’ll be so much fun!”

22nd December 1971 | 12 Grimmauld Place

Stepping out of their rooms, Sirius and Regulus meet each other in the hallway, grabbing and tugging at their rather stuffy suits. Today was the day of the Yule soiree that was arranged yearly for the sacred 28 families and many other prominently high-class wizarding families. In the memories you glimpse through Walburga’s previous grumblings leading up to the event, however, makes you purse your lips at the thought that, despite the arrangement helpfully trying to make the influential wizarding families mingle with one another, most of the pureblood elitist houses sequester themselves in a luxury room, separate from everyone else. This only perpetuated the divide, and you didn’t want that for your boys. For Orion and appearance’s sake, you’ll follow them into the luxury room but slowly inch you and your boys away and back into the main area.

“You two look like the perfect pair of gentlemen,” you coo but smile apologetically when you notice their awkward stance. “Are you uncomfortable, my loves?”

“Only a little bit,” Regulus confesses politely.

“Try a lot,” Sirius grumbles, always the one who’s more forthcoming with his truths.

“I’m sorry, dears,” leaning forward, you press a soft, loving kiss onto their foreheads, “try to bear with it as best as you can, okay?” Thankfully, the two were willing to cooperate with you and nodded.

“You look beautiful, Mother.” You smile kindly at Regulus’s sweet comment and thank him softly with a kiss to his crown.

“I agree!” Sirius grins and steps up to you, bringing your hand up to his lips, where he kisses your knuckles. “Mother, you’ll be the most beautiful lady at the soiree.” his actions fluster you, but you’re happy to have raised such a gentleman.

“You flatterer,” you hide your bashful expression in Sirius’ curls and press a kiss to his crown in thanks while Regulus giggles from beside you both. The three of you meet Orion in the living room, where you plan on using the Floo network to reach the venue.

“It’s about time,” Orion huffs, adjusting his cuff links before ordering Kreacher to place the dust-repelling spell onto everyone’s clothing so that the debris from the fireplace doesn’t affect your cleanliness. “We can’t be late to the soiree. Stop dawdling!” Orion hurries into the fireplace first and doesn’t wait for anyone else before he’s swallowed up by green flames. You sigh but offer your two sons a patient smile.

“You heard your father; it’s polite to be on time.” You turn to Kreacher as you urge the boys into the fireplace. “We’ll be back soon Kreacher.” With a soft farewell, Kreacher waves you off as you, too, are consumed by green flames.

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 10 : ... →

A/N : Phew~ that was a long one omg! I hope you darlings enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward to the next one! Chapter 10 will have a lot of fluffy, domestic moments that I'm very excited to share with all of you! For now, I hope this chapter was a good read for you!

[jtargaryen18]

The Arrangement ~ Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

Words: 8.2k

Pairing: Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Warnings: References to physical violence, planning physical violence

You learn your mother's whereabouts (sort of) but can't help feeling information is being kept from you by the Shelbys. Arthur gets some things off his chest. Tommy confronts Rory and begins to understand his plan may cost him the one thing he wanted most.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

For once, Tommy had woken up warm. Not from the whiskey. Not from the fire dying in the fireplace. But from her.

The soft rise and fall of her breath as she slept kept him calm, and if he focused on it, he could keep most of his troubles at bay. At least until dawn. Her arm draped over his chest, light and unknowing, but real. He liked the idea that she needed to know he was there by her side in sleep. Lying in wasn’t a thing he allowed himself often. Moments like that didn’t belong to men like him. And maybe that’s why he hadn’t moved. Tommy just laid there for a few extra minutes, watching the early light spill across the ceiling, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing.

It was a rare glimpse of normalcy, of stolen peaceful. But peace came with a clock ticking beside it. And somewhere deep down, he knew it couldn’t last.

But he wanted it to. God help him, he wanted it. What would he give for a thousand mornings like this one. Waking up with her next to him, the world outside their room unable to reach them.

He wanted to see her face when Polly showed her the sewing machine, see the way her eyes lit up when she realized it was hers to use, not just something borrowed. He wanted to ask her what she was making, watch her learn the machine and marvel at its convenience. He could sit in silence while her hands moved with purpose. Listen to her hum a song, or curse softly when a stitch went wrong. He wanted to come home every day and find her there in his home. He wanted to have her waiting in his bed each night.

He would never get last night out of his head if he lived to be a hundred. He could tell himself that she offered herself up so sweetly for sewing needles and something to do. Any other women, he would have flatly believed that. But he already told her she could have what she wanted -- as if he'd ever be able to say no to her. Tommy had no expectations. Would he have tried to seduce her? Yes. But she came at him first, shy but willing with those innocent eyes and that siren's smile. No agenda, no artifice. Everything else was forgotten. The scars the war left on his body and mind. The fact that he was the most ruthless man in Birmingham, and all the sins that bloodied his hands and blackened his heart. She'd just wanted him.

Tommy wanted so many impossible things, and that scared him. Because wanting was dangerous, leading to weakness and mistakes.

To pain.

But still… He wanted it all the same.

It took real effort on his part to leave the bed but he managed, peeling himself away like a man trying not to wake up from a dream. He washed up, dressed in silence, every movement mechanical, but slower than usual. Like part of him wanted to stretch the morning out just a little longer.

And just as he reached the door, he glanced back. She had shifted in her sleep, rolling toward where he’d been, now curled into the hollow his body had left behind, like she’d trapped his warmth for herself. In moments like this, there was no anxiety in her face. No worry creasing her brow. No guarded tension in her shoulders. Just peace. The kind he’d spent his life chasing and but had never quite caught. And for a brief second, he let himself imagine a world where he could give that to her—where it was his name, not his silence, that made her feel safe. 

But the world didn’t work like that. So he turned, and walked out, already bracing for whatever the day held. He didn't have to wait long.

Tommy stood by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantle, the other adjusting his cufflink with deliberate calm. The cigarette between his fingers was half-burned and almost forgotten with the weight of everything preying on his mind. 

He heard Polly before he saw her. She moved with purpose and when she stepped into the sitting room, he didn’t look at her right away. If she was here this early, it wasn’t for pleasantries.

“I’ve heard from Maeve March," she said.

Tommy didn’t move. Just waited. He could already feel the conversation sharpening like a blade. “And?”

Polly’s voice cut through the silence, sharper than it had any right to be at this hour. “Her mother’s not just in bed from worry, Tommy. She’s been beaten within an inch of her life.”

Tommy stilled, halfway through adjusting his cufflink, the weight of the words settling like stone in his chest.

Polly didn’t stop there. “Bruises, Tommy. Arms. Ribs. Face. One of her legs is broken. She hasn’t been seen in days because she can’t be. Maeve said she heard this from the doctor’s wife and he’s been out to the house twice. Said it looked like someone tied her to the bumper of their motorcar and dragged her for miles.” Her tone had shifted, less anger now, more concern. “And we both know who did it.”

Tommy exhaled, his fingers stilled, cufflink forgotten as he turned toward the window.

Polly stepped closer, her voice lower now. “This is what comes of your game, Thomas. You didn’t just humiliate him—you cornered him. And cowards like Sean O’Grady? They only know how to fight down.” She let him think about her words for a moment. “He couldn’t get to the girl and apparently the doctor's been out there to see her a time or two for the same thing. He turned to the only other woman who couldn’t fight back.”

And the silence that followed said everything Tommy didn’t. His jaw flexed. His cigarette burned to ash between his fingers, forgotten. 

All this time, he thought his girl was just a victim of circumstance. Of bad men making worse choices. Of a wager no one should’ve accepted. But now? Now he knew the truth. The bruises hadn’t started with the coin toss. Sean had been laying hands on her and her mother long before that. And no one had been able to stop him. Rory’s rage now made perfect sense. It wasn’t reckless, it was inherited, sharpened by years of silence and the sick knowing that no one had ever come to save them.

Until now. Tommy didn’t care what it took or what names he had to bury along the way. He wasn’t just going to silence Sean O’Grady. He was going to make sure his girl never had to look over her shoulder again.

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“No. That’s why I’m going.” 

He nodded. If it was true—if Sean had really laid hands on his wife—then it wasn’t just a rumor anymore. It was action. And desperate men did stupid things.

But before he could respond, Polly kept going. “You think you’re still in control of this. But you’re not. It’s slipping.”

Control. That word again. That damn word everyone liked to throw at him when they didn’t understand the stakes. “She’s safe here.”

“Physically, yes. But emotionally? Mentally?” Polly’s voice sharpened. “She doesn’t know what you did to get her here. That it was you who set all of this in motion.”

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, inhaled, letting the smoke curl in his lungs before answering. “What I did was necessary.” But even to him, the words rang hollow.

Polly didn’t back down. She never did. “What you did was selfish.”

His pulse kicked up at that. Her words struck deeper than he’d admit. Because he knew it was true. He’d told himself the wager was about teaching Small Heath a lesson. About punishing the men who treated women like they were worth less than the coins in their pockets. But the truth? The truth was that he’d seen her—really seen her—and wanted her. And he’d orchestrated everything else to make that want seem righteous.

Polly stepped closer, her voice lower now. Not angry. Just disappointed. “She doesn’t know you planted the wager in the first place. And everything that's happened since is a result of that. Her mother could have died. Her brother? I hope he's not planning to do something stupid.”

Tommy exhaled slowly. That old ache began to stir in his chest again—the one he ignored, the one he doused with whiskey and war stories and work. “She’ll know when I decide it’s time.”

When I can frame it right. When she’s too close to leave.

“And what if that time comes too late?” Polly asked.

Tommy looked at her, finally. Really looked and saw the warning in her eyes. Because Polly had seen it all before. She’d watched him build things out of strategy—empires, alliances, illusions. And she’d watched him destroy them just as fast when emotion crept in.

“If I tell her now, I lose her,” he admitted. It came out quieter than he meant it to. But it was the truth. The raw, ugly center of all of it.

Polly didn’t gloat, but she didn’t soften either. “If you don’t, you'll lose her anyway. But next time, it’ll be because she ran. And you’ll deserve it.”

With that said, she made her way out of the room. Coat over her arm, heels clicking softly against the wood floors.

Tommy didn’t call after her. Just stood there, the silence thick around him, smoke curling from his cigarette, his thoughts loud and dark.

***

The sewing machine was beautiful. When Tommy mentioned his family had one, you didn't picture anything that fancy. It was older but clean, polished like someone had taken care to bring it back to life. All you could do was stare at it, waiting in the sitting room like it had always belonged there, a small pile of fabric, a couple of white shirts, and an open tin filled with needles, thread, and dull metal thimbles were placed neatly beside it. A quiet invitation.

“Polly?” you asked, voice soft. 

She turned from the shelf she’d been rearranging, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Thought you might like to have a go,” she said. “Tommy said to get you whatever you needed.”

That part still made your chest tighten. He’d said that. He wanted you to have this. You ran your fingers over the machine’s edge, still unsure you were allowed to want anything. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Polly didn’t rush you. She just moved to the chair next to you, lowering herself with a soft grunt, her sharp eyes taking you in like she was trying to read the spaces between your words. "You'll learn it,” she said. “I was never any good at sewing anything but even I figured it out... You and your mother brought in money with your mending. You're not afraid of work.”

You gave a small smile. “Never had the choice.”

That earned a slow nod. “Tell me about your family,” she said gently. “Before all this.”

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk—it was that you didn’t know where to begin.

“My mother,” you said finally, voice small, “she’s kind. Quiet. She used to hum to herself while she worked. Always trying to keep the peace. But… she doesn’t speak up much anymore.”

Polly nodded, saying nothing, letting you go on.

“Rory… he’s younger than me, but always acted older. Always trying to be the man of the house, even when we both knew the one already there wouldn’t let him.” You didn’t say his name. 

Polly’s voice softened. “Your stepfather?”

Your hands froze where they’d been sorting the many items in the tin. You shook your head. “He's not a nice man. He drinks and gambles. There have been many a night when there was nothing to eat because of it. He has fits of rage. Mostly at my mother, even though she's done nothing wrong. Sometimes he'd go after Rory, when he spoke out. He doesn't liked being challenged. And he hated being reminded that he wasn't our real father.”

You felt Polly watching you. Not with pity. With something stronger. “Did he ever raise a hand to you?” she asked carefully.

You swallowed. Eyes on the machine. “Not often. He knew how to get his point across without leaving marks.”

Polly reached out then, her hand resting over yours. “You’re not there anymore, love.”

You nodded, though your throat was tight. 

“And neither is your mother.”

Your gaze met hers. What?

“She’s safe,” Polly said gently. “We got her out of that house this morning to a place that's safe and guarded. She's out of your stepfather's reach.”

Your breath caught as you tried to wrap your mind about what this really meant. “She’s safe?”

“She is.” But something flickered in Polly’s eyes. Just for a split second. Something that didn’t match the reassurance in her voice.

You saw it in the way she looked past you instead of at you. There was something she wasn't saying. And just like that, the warm relief that had just started to settle in your chest evaporated. Why had they moved your mother now instead of when this started? And if she needed to be kept safe, why couldn't she be with you? 

Oh, you knew as well as anyone that your stepfather wouldn't have allowed her to do anything, much less try to find you. But you'd hoped for something. Even a message slipped to you through the staff. And suddenly— suddenly —they decided to move her?

You didn't think Polly wasn't lying. But she wasn’t telling the whole truth either. Something had happened. You just didn’t know what.

"Can I go see her?" you had to ask. "Is she alright?"

Polly paused, but only for a second. There was a slight shift in her eyes. The faintest pause between syllables.The way her gaze darted, like someone avoiding a detail they didn’t want to give voice to. The smile she flashed you was gentle, but composed.

“She’s safe. And that’s what matters most.” Another beat. “You’ll see her. Just… not yet. Not until Tommy finally puts an end to all this.”

You nodded slowly, but your heart sank because you knew there was more to the story. Polly Gray wasn’t a liar. But she was loyal to her family first just as you were. And if she wasn’t telling you everything…It meant the rest was something you weren’t ready to hear. Or worse, something you weren’t meant to know at all.

Polly gave your hand a gentle squeeze before leaning back in her chair, settling like she wasn’t in a hurry. “Your father,” she said after a quiet moment, her voice softer now, thoughtful. “Malachy Flynn. I remember him.”

You knew it was a jump to another topic but you still wanted to hear what she had to say. “You do?”

Polly nodded. “He used to come by the Garrison sometimes. Before it was ours. Kept to himself. Brave man, from what I heard. What I remember was that he was unfailingly kind.”

It was rare that anyone talked about him these days. Tommy mentioned knowing him from the war. Rarer still that anyone remembered him as kind.

“Life was different before he died,” you said quietly. “Calmer. We didn’t have much, but… there was laughter.”

Polly’s eyes darkened just slightly, gaze drifting for a moment to something far away.

“That war took too much from all of us,” she murmured. “Our sons, our husbands, our homes. It didn’t stop at the trenches. It came back with the ones who survived.” Her voice turned heavier now. Measured. “It turned my nephews into ghosts for a while. John buried it under jokes. Arthur drowned it in drink and fists. And Tommy…” She paused, studying you closely now. “Well, Tommy learned to keep breathing while everything inside him was already dead.”

Your breath caught at that. You didn’t mean to, but you leaned in a little, as if her words might bring him into sharper focus.

Polly noticed. “He’s different with you,” she said, just a touch of warmth threading her voice. “It’s not a thing he’d say, not aloud. But I know what I see.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. All you knew was that the mention of your father had brought something back. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. And now, the idea that someone like Tommy Shelby might have once been broken, and was somehow trying to come back from it, that settled into your chest like hope. 

He’s different with you.

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. Because what were you supposed to say to that? That it shouldn't matter? That it didn’t? That it couldn’t? What did Polly think this was? Some slow, unlikely romance where the broken soldier finds solace in the girl he stole from her life? You weren’t a story. You were cargo from a bet. Collateral in a lesson that had nothing to do with you until Tommy Shelby made it so.

And yet…

He’d spoken to Rory. Rather your brother had sought him out, confronting a man that terrified most of Birmingham. Your brother was still breathing and unbruised, and somehow that had meant more than you let on. Now your mother had been moved, tucked away somewhere safe by the very people who had upended your life. That kind of protection didn’t come cheap. Or without purpose.

Why? Why were they still shielding you like you were precious, like you mattered? Why was Polly sitting here, placing sewing kits in your hands like you belonged here?

Yes, you knew Tommy had interfered the moment you tried to flee that night and you found yourself caught in his snare. But back then you assumed he was just protecting what he’d taken. You still assumed that. Didn’t you? You were meant to stay until the storm passed. Until whatever lesson he was teaching Small Heath had sunk in. Then you'd be released—damaged, maybe, but still walking. That was the plan. Wasn’t it?

You glanced down at your hands, resting in your lap. They were steady now. Stronger than when you'd first arrived. It scared you. Because if you were being made whole again, it meant something in this place was stitching you back together. And if you started to want it… Well, you weren’t sure you’d survive being sent home.

Polly just watched you, calm and quiet, letting the silence stretch. She always seemed to know when to push and when to let something sink in. But after a moment, she shifted slightly in her chair, hands folded in her lap, her voice softer than before. “I don’t know what he told you,” she said, eyes still on you. “Or what you’ve let yourself believe.”

Your gaze lifted, cautious.

“But I’ve lived with those boys long enough to know the difference between when they want something… and when they mean it.”

“What is it you think Tommy means?” you asked, surprising yourself with how small your voice sounded.

Polly didn’t answer right away. She just studyied you like she was trying to decide what you could handle. “I think he’s still figuring that out for himself,” she said. “And that’s the part that worries me.”

Holding your breath, you waited for her to explain.

 “Because if he gets it wrong?" Polly gave a small, sad smile. “Then you’ll be the one who pays for it.”

And just like that, she stood. No dramatic exit. No final remark to twist the knife. She simply touched your shoulder in passing—warm, steady, like a thread pulling you back from unraveling—then left the room with her usual grace. 

Polly’s footsteps faded down the hall, but her words didn’t. You sat there, motionless, her touch still warm on your shoulder. And that question kept echoing: What does it mean to pay for it? Did it mean being cast out once his point had been made? Forgotten the moment he tired of the game? Or worse, kept close, like a favorite possession, never quite free again? You weren’t sure which outcome scared you more.

You sat there long after she was gone, the sewing machine quiet beside you, the only sound in the room the soft ticking of the grandfather clock. Your fingers rested on the fabric in your lap. Still, like they’d forgotten what they were supposed to be doing. You weren’t even thinking about sewing.

Because now, your mind wasn’t just circling around what had happened. It was inching toward what might come next. 

It wasn’t just the secrets still hanging in the air, or the careful way Polly had chosen her words. The ground beneath your feet didn’t feel as solid as it had the day before—if it ever had at all. You felt it in the silence, in Tommy’s absence. In the look Polly flashed you before quickly taking it back. Something underneath everything was building. And for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were ready for it. Would you be able to handle answers, consequences, or whatever version of truth might finally arrive?

The sewing machine was all but forgotten next to you, its silent presence now feeling more like a question than a gift. You reached for the thread, but before you could start, you heard footsteps. They were heavier and uneven in pace. He was someone who never moved quietly. When his shadow filled the doorway, you froze.

Arthur Shelby.

He paused when he saw you, mouth tightening, like he’d expected someone else. Or maybe no one at all.

You stood slowly, out of instinct. Out of respect. 

He waved a hand. “Don’t—don’t get up. Just…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

You sat again, cautiously.

He lingered in the doorway, arms crossed, and for a moment, you thought he’d leave without saying anything else.

“You any good at that?” he nodded toward the machine.

“I’ve never tried before. I usually do all the sewing by hand.”

“Guess that’s good then,” he muttered, scratching at his jaw. “Means Tommy’s shirts’ll be fixed for free.”

It took you a second to realize he was joking. Was he offering a truce?

You smiled. “If I am, I'll be fixing your shirts for free too.”

A smile played about Arthur's lips, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate movements like he was trying not to scare you. He sat down in the chair across from you, and close up, he looked older, tired. At least he wasn't angry like before. You were grateful for that.

“Listen,” he said after a moment, “about before...”

You didn’t say anything, but the memory still lingered in the back of your mind. His voice, his fury, the look in his eyes when he’d cornered you in the foyer. The blame you hadn’t earned.

“I was wrong,” he muttered, staring at a spot on the floor. “I was drunk and dumb. Blamed you for something you didn’t do. Wasn’t fair.” He shifted in the chair, clearly uncomfortable. It was the kind of apology that came with splinters—halting, awkward, like every word scraped its way up from somewhere he didn’t like to go.

“Whole bloody ordeal,” he added after a moment, with a short shake of his head. He looked up at you, for just a moment. Some emotion flash in his eyes but it was gone before you could make it out. Regret, maybe. “Not makin’ excuses,” he added quickly. “Just sayin’… it was a mess. And I was part of it.” He rubbed his hands together like he was trying to scrub the guilt off. “Should’ve known better. Should’ve put an end to it.”

You sat frozen, listening, unsure how to respond. The hurt was still there, but it was softer now, wrapped in the rough edges of his humility.

Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I know how it looks. Like we’re just… monsters. Men with power, doing whatever the fuck we want. But it’s not always like that.”

Was he trying to defend what happened or just looking for a way to make sense of it?

“What happened to you,” he continued, more gently than before, “it shouldn’t’ve happened. Not to you. Not to anyone. Tommy's putting that to rights. It's the least he can do.” He looked up then, met your eyes properly for the first time. “I’m sorry. Truly am.”

It wasn’t polished or elegant, but it was genuine. And for a man like Arthur Shelby, who so rarely admitted fault or failure, that meant something to you. He blew out a breath, like he’d been holding it the whole time.

You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “Thank you. Takes a lot to admit that."

He snorted. “You don’t know the half of it.” Then, after a beat, he offered a half-smile and said, “Still don’t know why you’re fixin’ shirts for free. Must be mad.” And just like that, the tension broke, replaced by something lighter. A fragile kind of peace. And maybe, if only in small pieces, a bit of healing.

You looked at him, surprised. "He hasn't actually asked me to fix them yet. There's a couple here but I don't know who they belong to. I guess this will come in handy."

That had you both smiling, the tension easing. There was a long pause between you, but not a heavy one. A careful kind of quiet.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he leaned back and added, “He’s gone soft, you know.”

That got your attention, your gaze meeting his. 

“Tommy.” Arthur gestured vaguely, like the word alone held too much to unpack. “Would’ve never done half of this for anyone else. Not unless there was a deal at the end of it. Some gain. But you?” He shook his head slowly. “You’re not a play. You’re not leverage. If you were, I’d have seen it by now.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. You looked down at your hands, unsure what to say. You thought there was a reason. His lesson for Small Heath. What was Arthur trying to say?

“Not sayin’ he’s easy. My brother is anything but that. Or good at this sort of thing. He’s fuckin' not.” Arthur gave a quiet, tired laugh. “Hell, he’s more likely to set fire to his own happiness than admit he wants any.” He stood, brushing his palms down his trousers, like shaking off something heavy. “But whatever else this started as… it’s different now. And if I can see it? Maybe you will too. Take care of yourself, yeah?"

Then he gave a short nod, more to himself than to you, and left you there, surrounded by quiet and questions, with one more layer of Tommy Shelby to unravel.

***

Tommy was in his office at the betting shop, bent over the day’s ledger, though he hadn’t turned a page in nearly half an hour. The silence around him was heavy, weighted by everything he hadn’t said, everything he’d done, and knowing that it was all catching up with him. 

The door opened without a knock. Only one man entered like that. Arthur.

Tommy didn’t look up at first. He knew this was coming. Had felt it building in the quiet glares and the unspoken tension since the day after the wager. Since Arthur had looked at him like a stranger in their own house. So when Arthur stepped into the room and let the silence sit between them like a weight, Tommy didn’t bother filling it. Because whatever Arthur had to say, he’d earned the right to say it.

Arthur stood on the other side of the desk, the intensity Tommy expected to see in his face. “I saw her today. Spoke to her.”

Tommy looked up slowly. Not defensive or braced for a fight. Because that was the thing about Arthur, when he wasn’t angry, when he was honest, it cut far deeper than a bullet.

“I treated her like shite because I thought she was part of all this.” His voice cracked slightly. “Turns out she was just caught in it. I thought you flashed me those drawers as part of your theatrics. But...”

Tommy closed the ledger gently. “You were angry. I let you be. I had my reasons.”

Arthur’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, well. I’m your brother, not your pawn. And now people are fuckin' talkin’. O’Grady’s got folks whispering my name in alleyways like I’m the one who stole her. Like I—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “Do you know what that feels like?”

Tommy stood, slowly. Walked around the desk. Not threatening, but direct. 

Arthur looked at him. Hard. "Why’d you do it, Tom? Was it about the girl... or the message?”

Tommy didn’t speak for a long moment. Then he looked away, toward the window. “Started with her.”

Arthur absorbed that in silence. "She's different and you know it. She's no whore. She'll make some lucky bastard a good wife... And you still used her.”

It was a truth Tommy couldn’t argue with. Because he had. He’d maneuvered her like a piece on a board. Now, hearing it out loud, from his own brother, no less, felt like a blade slipping past his ribs.

“I protected her.” But the words sounded hollow even as Tommy said them.

“From what? Us?”

Tommy stepped in closer. “From him.”

Arthur stared at him. And slowly, the fight bled out of his shoulders. “You should’ve told me,” he said.

Tommy nodded once. “I know.”

Arthur broke eye contact then, just for a second. Just long enough for Tommy to see it wasn’t anger fueling him, it was guilt. Shame. 

“I saw her first, remember?” Arthur said, quieter now. “Told you to take the fuckin' coat for her to fix. Thought maybe… Maybe I liked her.” He laughed once, bitter and short.“Then I made them hand her over. Like she was nothing. And you let me.”

“I did,” Tommy said quietly. “I didn't know her before I took the coat for mending. But the moment I saw her... I knew.” He met Arthur’s gaze, steady. “I thought I could make her part of the game, then protect her from it.” A breath... "Didn't stop me from making her mine before I ever had the right to.”

Arthur stared at him for a long moment. His shoulders didn’t rise, his fists didn’t clench. It might’ve been the most honest thing he'd ever said to his older brother. And that made it worse somehow.

Dropping his gaze, Arthur gave a short, bitter laugh.“Well, fuck me, Tom. That’s what this is, then. You thought you'd cash in that wager and you fuckin' fell for her. I fuckin' knew it. You’ve gone soft.”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. Just let the silence answer for him.

“Should’ve seen it earlier.” Arthur shook his head, brow furrowing.“You’ve been off lately. Head not in the game like it usually is. Always rushing off somewhere.”

Tommy said nothing, let him get it all out.

“You really pissed me off, y’know. Put me through it. Let me think I’d done something that I didn't want to live with. Let me stew in it while you sat on the truth.” Arthur glanced over, not looking for an apology, just recognition. “Even got my name dragged through the muck... But at the end of this game, I come out of this in better shape than you, brother.”

Tommy had been the one to orchestrate the wager. And now? Now he was the one who stood to lose the most. He'd be left with the ashes of the life he’d tried to build on a lie. And the worst part was…he’d known from the start. He just thought he could outpace the damage. Like always.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Arthur moved toward the door. “You planning to marry her?”

Tommy's his voice was soft. “If she’ll have me.”

"You'd fuckin' better." Arthur let out a breath and half-smirked, though there was no amusement in it. “She fixes my shirts for free now, you know.”

Tommy watched as Arthur stepped out the door. 

“Don’t cock this up, Tom.”

***

The light was bleeding out of the sky when Liam found him. Tommy was in the garden, cigarette tucked between his lips. His coat draped over his shoulders, boots planted in the damp earth. The air smelled like soil and cooling stone. It was one of those rare, still moments that felt suspended in time. He'd been speaking with the men he had guarding his house, cautioning them to be on high alert as the situation with Sean O'Grady continued to escalate. 

He heard Liam’s boots on the gravel before the man in front of him could answer. Tommy knew by the pace it wasn’t good news. Walking towards Liam, his man he'd been speaking with knew to walk away, to give them privacy.

“He’s getting ready,” Liam said without preamble. “Didn’t go to work today. I've seen him everywhere O'Grady has been. One hand always near his pocket.”

Tommy didn’t need to ask who. “Rory.”

Liam nodded once. “Looks like he's meaning to finish something.”

Tommy took a slow drag, exhaled. His mind began pulling threads, tying them together with practiced ease. O'Grady. The bruised mother. The quiet rage he'd seen in the boy. It was all coming to a head now.

He flicked the cigarette into the grass and turned. “I’ll handle it.”

The streets were quiet, but not silent as the night dropped its dark veil over Small Heath. Distant voices drifted from open pub doors, muffled by the fog curling low along the cobblestones. Gas lamps burned soft and yellow, casting long shadows through alleyways that had seen too much and forgotten nothing.

Tommy moved with purpose, his coat collar up, steps soundless beneath him. He knew these streets better than he knew most people. Knew the corners where boys became men too fast. Knew the alleys where secrets were buried beneath the weight of silence and soot. Tonight, he knew exactly where to look. 

What Polly said about the mother’s injuries was true and she’d moved the woman to a safehouse while O’Grady was at work, no questions asked. Rory had to be on the edge of his sanity right now. He’d lived under the shadow of a man like Sean O’Grady. A man who punished weakness and hit women, and still dared to look himself in the mirror.

Rory knew what bruises meant, what silence meant, just like he knew what it felt like to be powerless against it. Of course he was going to snap. Tommy wasn’t going to let the boy do something that would cost him everything. Not when he’d come this far and still had something to save.

He spotted Rory just before the lad noticed him. His back was pressed to the brick wall behind the narrow side alley. The rundown pub he watched that was the Garrison's biggest competition. According to Liam, it was where O'Grady spent significant time. But his stepson was coiled tight as a spring, watching as people came and went. His chest rose fast, like he’d been running even though he hadn’t moved an inch. One hand was tucked deep into his coat pocket.

Tommy didn’t have to guess what was in there. A knife, maybe. A revolver. Something that made him feel stronger than he was.

Tommy stepped out of the shadows, not caring that the gravel crunched beneath his boots. No need to sneak up on someone ready to explode. 

“Revenge looks different in your head than it does after.” Tommy’s voice came low from the shadows, calm but heavy.

Rory flinched, spinning on his heel to face him, his hand twitching in his pocket. But he managed to stop himself. He recognized Tommy's voice. Just maybe he even expected to hear it. 

“Mr. Shelby?” the boy snapped, his voice sharp, defensive. “You followed me?”

“Didn’t have to.” Tommy stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “Word is you didn’t show at the factory today."

Rory didn’t answer right away, but the set of his jaw spoke loud enough.

“Your mother’s safe,” Tommy added quietly. “He’ll come home to an empty house and no one left to scream at. Things will get worse before they get better."

The boy’s eyes flicked away, not in fear, but in barely restrained fury. “Then maybe it’s time someone made him afraid,” Rory muttered.

Tommy studied him for abeat, watching the way those words shook in the boy’s chest—less bravado, more truth. A quiet kind of desperation that came from years of being unable to fight back. And now the leash was off.

“He beat her.” His voice cracked on the words, just slightly. “Again. My mum. Our mum. She can't even walk. She can't draw a breath without it hurtin'. And you’re still letting him walk around like nothing happened.”

Tommy said nothing. Just watched. Measured the fear and fury in Rory’s voice, the way he stood—not broken, but right on the edge. And to his credit, Rory hadn't said a word to anyone. Tommy would have known if he had.

“You moved my mum like you moved my sister? And Mum wasn’t the only one he laid hands on,” Rory added, louder now. “And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of sitting around waiting for someone else to fix it.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched.There it was. Confirmation of what he’d suspected. Proof. Not just bruises passed off in silence or pain hidden behind quiet eyes.O’Grady had hurt her. The girl he held at night like a promise he hadn’t made yet. And for one blistering second, all Tommy wanted was to rip through the dark and put a bullet between the bastard’s eyes.

But not yet. That was anger talking, and he couldn’t afford to act on fury. Not when Rory was hanging on the edge, and the next move needed to be precise. So he pushed it down. Buried it. For now.

But the rage stayed lit, banked like a fire he fully intended to let burn.

“So you thought you’d do it yourself?” Tommy asked, tilting his head slightly. “Just wait for him to walk out and put him in the ground?”

“If I have to.”

“And then what, Rory?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even. “Let's say you get your vengeance. Think you get to go home after that?”

Rory’s lip curled, but his eyes flickered.

“You think your mother will be better off?" Tommy went on. What would it do to her to bury her husband and her son in the same week? She wouldn’t mourn him,” Tommy muttered. “But she’d still lose.”

Realization struck the lad then, Tommy recognized it. Because he knew that feeling all too well, had carried it for years. That sharp, breathless knowledge that the people you love…they don’t survive your choices. Even if they live, they don’t survive them. Tommy saw a younger version of himself in Rory. He saw the hero he'd desperately wanted to be before France, the smoke and medals and blood. Rory was who he'd been before he learned what it meant to lose everything in the name of doing what felt right.

And in that moment, Tommy didn’t see a threat. He saw someone worth saving. “Alright,” he said quietly. “So let’s make sure you don’t lose anything tonight.”

Rory met his gaze, startled. Not because he didn’t want to believe it, but because part of him hadn’t expected anyone to offer him another way.

Tommy stepped closer, his tone shifting just slightly, less steel now, more weight. “There are other ways to fight men like him. Smarter ways. You’ve got more in you than swinging a blade in the dark and hoping for the best.” He paused, watching the boy take it in. “You want to protect your mother?” he asked. “Protect your sister?”

Rory’s nod was immediate. Fierce.

“Then be something more than his murderer,” Tommy said. “Be useful to me.” The words weren’t a threat. They were a door and one not offered lightly. “You’re sharp. Loyal. And you’ve seen enough of this world to understand what it takes to survive it.”

Rory hesitated. “Doing what?”

“You’ll learn.” He didn’t need to say more.

Rory understood what the offer was. It was a bargain with the devil, but still a chance. For someone like him, it could be everything. Or it could be the beginning of the end for him.

“I’m not like him,” the boy said hoarsely.

Tommy’s tone softened, just slightly. “Then prove it.”

Rory didn’t answer right away. But Tommy saw the shift in him. In the way his shoulders eased, the way his hand drifted just slightly from the pocket where the knife or gun was hidden. He didn’t say yes. But he wasn’t saying no either. And that was enough for now.

Tommy turned slightly and gestured down the street. Reaching out, he rested a firm hand on his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

They fell into step side by side, and it was quiet except for the steady sound of boots against wet stone. The night pressed in around them, thick and damp with smoke and fog, but it didn’t feel as heavy now. Tommy lit a cigarette, taking a drag and exhaling smoke slowly into the cold. Rory’s steps were heavier now, the weight of what he almost did hanging off his shoulders like a soaked coat.

They reached the block where Rory lived. It was one of those narrow, leaning rows near the canal with chipped stone steps and windows that always seemed dim, even in the light of day. 

Rory stopped at the foot of the stairs. He stared at the door like it might open on an answer he didn’t have. “My mum and my sister…” he said after a long pause. “They’re all I’ve got left, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy just listened.

“And I don’t even know if they’re safe.” Rory blew out an exhale. He finally looked over, meeting Tommy’s eyes head-on. “I’m trusting you. But I don’t know what that buys me or them.”

Rory’s hand hovered at the doorknob, the light from inside spilling just enough to catch the tension still coiled in his shoulders.

“Think about what I said,” Tommy told him, voice low.“This part’s almost over. After that… you’ll have a choice.”

Rory nodded once, then slipped inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that felt heavier than it should’ve.

It buys you me, Rory. That’s the trade.

Turning to walk back up the mist-soaked street, Tommy's thoughts grew darker. The part of his plan that was almost done? That was for Rory. For his mother who Sean O’Grady had broken. For his sister who now slept in Tommy’s bed.

For Tommy, it was  just the beginning. He’d waited long enough. And now, he was going to deal with Sean O’Grady in a way that didn’t just end the problem, but satisfied the quiet, cold part of him that still wanted everything. 

But as he walked deeper into the fog, doubt stalked him like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

His girl was going to find out what he'd done. And when she did, it wouldn’t matter how gentle he’d been after. Wouldn’t matter that he’d kept her close, or tried to make it right. She’d remember how it started. She’d remember the price her mother paid for his plans.

Revenge was simple, easy. The truth was messy, sharp, and inevitable. And when it finally surfaced, that’s when the real war would begin. 

***

The house was mostly dark when Tommy returned. No lamps burned in the hallway except for the one flickering low in the sitting room. Somewhere upstairs, doors were shut, people asleep.

But she was still awake. He heard the rhythmic clatter of the sewing machine before he saw her, a soft, steady sound like a heartbeat echoing in the quiet.

Tommy stepped into the doorway of the sitting room and stopped. There she was, seated near the window with its curtains drawn, working in the low golden light of the lamp. Her brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, lower lip caught gently between her teeth, fingers guiding fabric with care. A man’s shirt lay across her lap.

“Still at it?” he asked, voice rougher than he intended.

She looked up, smiling when she saw him. “Fixing the cuffs on Arthur’s shirts,” she said lightly. “Only now I’m doing it for free.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, a breath of something like laughter caught in his throat. “Did he mention that?”

She nodded, returning to her stitching for a moment before adding, “Said it like I’d lost my mind. ‘Still don’t know why you’re fixin’ shirts for free. Must be mad,’ I think were his exact words.”

Her imitation of Arthur was surprisingly good. It had just enough gruffness to earn a real smirk from Tommy. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a softened gaze. “He’s not wrong.”

She glanced up again, brow raised, just slightly teasing. “And yet here I am.”

Tommy’s chest pulled tight—not from guilt this time, but something quieter. The fact that she was here, doing something kind for Arthur of all people, after everything… It told him more about her than she probably meant to reveal. It told him she still had kindness left in her.

He took a step forward, his voice low now. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, but there was a tenderness in her voice when she replied, “Didn’t  have to. I wanted to. He apologized.”

Tommy nodded, slowly. That settled something in his chest. Not everything, but something. Arthur had tried. And she’d let him. That was a kind of peace Tommy hadn’t expected. And it made him even more certain that she was worth the risk.

His coat was still buttoned, gloves tucked into one pocket. He hadn’t taken a breath all evening that didn’t taste like smoke and tension.

“Have you eaten?” she asked gently.

He shook his head. “Not hungry.”

His mind wouldn’t slow. Wouldn’t let him sit still long enough to want anything. Too many things were moving beneath the surface. O'Grady. Rory. Her. Always her.

Should he tell her tonight? Would it shatter the fragile thing they’d built in the quiet hours between regret and routine? Would it break everything, the trust, the comfort, the softness she’d started to show him in slivers, even if she didn’t mean to? Or was it better to let her believe she was just drifting here, a passenger in a storm she never agreed to ride out?

The truth was coming, and when it did, it wouldn’t just knock. It would rip the bloody fucking doors off their hinges. Would she still be standing with him when the dust settled?

"That’s enough for tonight,” he said, the words quiet but firm.

She didn't hesitate. She nodded before carefully folding the shirt, setting it aside. Rising from her seat, she stretched and her neck and back had to be aching from sitting there for hours. As he watched, she walked past him without flinching, with no fear. That quiet trust gutted him.

Upstairs, the room they shared was dim but warm. She moved with gentle familiarity now. She wasn't claiming the space, but no longer afraid of it either. She peeled off her day dress, still one of Ada's, and changed into her nightclothes in silence, her back to him. Not hiding, not flaunting. She was just existing.

He removed his coat, tossed it over the chair. His tie. His waistcoat and shirt. Even so, he still felt heavy.

She climbed into the bed and pulled the blankets up, lying on her back. She looked tired, probably at that machine most of the day. But it was different. The shadows behind her eyes had faded. She had something in her day to help her hold her fears and worries at bay. He envied her that.

Tommy sat on the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. He didn’t want her tonight—not in the way men wanted women. He just wanted her close. Because something in his gut said this wouldn’t last. That a reckoning was coming. And when it did, he didn’t know if she’d stay.

He pulled off his boots, then slid beneath the covers. She didn’t move away. Tommy reached for her, one arm looping around her waist, pulling her into him. She tucked herself close, her back to his chest, her hand over his. She was warm and soft. Real. Tommy pressed his face into her hair and closed his eyes. Just a moment, he let himself pretend she was his without condition. That there was no plan. No lies. No secrets.

Just her. 

Tommy held her tighter until her breathing evened out into the cadence of sleep. Because he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to.

@outlanderuniverse @alyssajunelle @gothic-chinadoll @sparda1234 @mrsnms @alexakeyloveloki @theinheriteddutchess @wiseyouthingluencer @lovinglimerence

[leejenowrld]

lee jeno masterlist

➱ ONE SHOTS

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meet jeno, the campus heartbreaker. he only has eyes for you—a shy, introverted stranger who turns his life upside down. what begins as a reputation-defying connection evolves into intense, immediate love. unexpectedly, personal struggles and external issues threaten your bond, leaving once-confident jeno shattered and entangled in a tumultuous love story.

overdrive (m) 33k words, smut, fluff, angst

jeno’s a legend in midnight asphalt—too fast to catch, too lethal to forget. you were never meant to touch that world, only tear it down from the inside. he was supposed to be your double-cross: stab him once for the story, once to survive. instead, you let him fuck the truth out of you in the front seat of his getaway car, your recorder still running. and now you’re chasing a story that doesn’t break—it devours.

new me 10.5k, smut, fluff, new year’s eve

moving to a new college mid-term wasn’t part of the plan, but neither was jeno. all it takes is one tour guide, one party, one shared look, and suddenly you’re in his bed, legs wrapped around his waist, his cock stretching you so perfectly you forget why you ever hesitated. he’s addictive, and the way he fucks you—slow, deep, like he’s already yours—makes it impossible not to fall apart beneath him.

after all this time? 8k words, smut, fluff

you run into jeno, your ex, at a college party. despite a tough breakup, the spark between you never faded. after a night of reconnecting and reigniting, you realize some feelings are too deep to ever really go away.

snowed in 4.4k words, smut

snowed in at a remote cabin, you and jeno are left alone. what starts as playful teasing after a snowball fight quickly turns into something desperate and raw. he fucks you against every surface possible—hard, rough, and relentless, pressing you against the walls, the table, and the armchair by the fire. he claims you again and again, refusing to stop until there’s nothing left of you but him.

on your knees 3.2k words, smut

after teasing him all day and pushing him too far, jeno humiliates you, making you strip and touch yourself while he watches—then he grabs your wrist, yanks you to your knees, and reminds you who owns you. you’re not coming tonight. you’re here to choke on his cock, take every inch, and beg for more while he uses you exactly how he wants. it’s brutal, filthy, and leaves you dripping for him.

“come all over daddy’s cock” 2.5k words, smut

you ride your boyfriend, jeno’s, cock, using him for your own pleasure. you bounce and fuck yourself dumb on it until you crash out

‘just the tip?’ 1.3k words, smut, fluff

you’ve only recently started having sex with your boyfriend, jeno, so naturally, you’re still getting used to his size and the fact that he needs to size train you.

➱ SERIES

in your eyes (m) 77k words, smut, angst, completed — masterlist

campus life was just a series of fleeting connections until he found you. now, it’s you who he can’t forget, it’s you he wants to be known for, it’s you he wants to belong to.

part one | part two

back to you (m) completed. enemies to lovers, angst, smut, fluff — masterlist

lee jeno forces his way into your life, first by pushing into one of your college projects and then refusing to leave. as mark's best friend, you've always hated jeno-arrogant, reckless, and everything mark isn't. but what starts as reluctant tolerance spirals into a secret affair fueled by lust, obsession, and the thrill of keeping it hidden. as lies and jealousy pile up, your connection becomes a dangerous game that pushes you to confront how far you're willing to go-and how much you're willing to lose-for the one person you swore you'd never fall for.

➱ DRABBLES

making jeno jealous

angry sex

not knowing how to ride someone and jeno teaches you

soft sex

putting makeup on jeno and soft sex

jeno muscles

roleplay jeno!ceo and yn!employee

avoiding jeno

giving jeno a lap dance

reaction to jenos ex

overstimulation

jeno being smug about his big cock

cuddling and giving jeno hickies

fucking like rabbits

jeno brat taming

jeno headlock fucking

first time with jeno and his big cock intimidates you

pussy drunk jeno

jeno giving you princess treatment

jeno punishing you for edging you

jeno cumming in you

jeno masturbating to you

giggly makeout sessions with jeno

wearing a short skirt and jenos reaction

laying on top of jeno and he fingers you

jeno loves slapping your ass

complimenting jeno and he gets shy

being pregnant and giving jeno a lap dance

size training with jeno

how he reacts when you cry during sex

➱ BOYFRIEND TEXTS

boyfriend texts

boyfriend texts ii

boyfriend texts ii.

boyfriend texts iv

boyfriend texts v.

boyfriend texts vi

boyfriend texts vii

boyfriend texts viii

boyfriend texts ix

➱ TIME STAMPS

02:00 am

03:27 am

➱ VISUALS

… to be completed