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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 2 days ago

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Mutual Jealousy | Sebastian Sallow x OC #6

he's so unimpressed with evie in this one... but then again she's not so happy with seb either

Summary: Evangeline and Sebastian navigate growing attention from others, their unspoken feelings simmer dangerously beneath the surface. Evangeline accepts a date with Lysander Clearwater while Sebastian gets busy in a broom closet.

Words: 7,582

Tags: Unspoken Feelings, Post-Canon, Friends to Lovers (Implied), Friendship, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Angst, Hogwarts, Implied Smut

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

The early November chill settled over Hogwarts like a thin veil, leaving the Quidditch pitch shrouded in mist. Evangeline adjusted her gloves, tightening her grip on her bat as she surveyed the field. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been assigned the pitch for joint practice today, the field split between the two teams, with each side running their drills in tandem. The atmosphere was charged, competitive energy buzzing in the air as the two teams zoomed through plays and formations, occasionally crossing into each other’s side of the pitch.

Evangeline’s gaze swept across the field, past where Gryffindor’s Chasers were practicing a new maneuver. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a Ravenclaw player—Lysander Clearwater—flying a bit closer than usual, his attention focused on intercepting a Quaffle. She barely had a second to react when she saw the glint of an incoming Bludger streaking directly toward him, seemingly unnoticed as he focused on his target.

Without hesitation, she shot forward, swinging her bat in a wide arc and meeting the Bludger mid-flight. The impact reverberated through her arms as she sent the ball flying off in a new direction, safely away from Lysander. He glanced up, startled, his gaze meeting hers across the field, and a smile broke across his face as he registered what had happened.

“Thanks!” he called, lifting a hand in a grateful wave before returning his focus to his drill. Evangeline smirked, nodding in acknowledgment before turning her attention back to her own teammates. The exchange left her with a small thrill of satisfaction as she continued through practice, her movements sharper and more focused.

When practice finally wound down, players from both teams began to land on the pitch, dismounting from their brooms and chatting as they headed toward the changing rooms. Evangeline had just landed, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, when she heard footsteps approaching from behind.

Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Lysander. His face was flushed from the cold air, his blond hair wind-tousled and falling over his forehead in a way that highlighted his striking blue eyes. He wore an easygoing smile, the kind that seemed to draw people in without effort.

“Evangeline, right?” he asked, though his tone was warm with familiarity. “That was quite a save back there. I’d probably be seeing stars right now if you hadn’t intercepted that Bludger.”

She grinned, shrugging off the compliment. “It’s all part of the job. Can’t have our star players getting injured before the season even starts, can we?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I appreciate it all the same. You’re a solid Beater—I could probably use a few pointers for defense myself.”

"Is that so? No comments about me being too small or looking out of place as a Beater?" she replied, a hint of challenge in her tone.

Lysander’s eyes widened, and he shook his head with an earnest smile. "Not at all! If anything, you’re proof that size doesn’t mean a thing when it comes to skill. You’ve got serious power behind those swings.”

Evangeline felt a rush of warmth at his words. She’d grown used to hearing all the comments—usually well-meaning, but often dismissive—about her stature. But Lysander seemed to see her as she was, not just as someone defying expectations.

“Thanks,” she said, a bit more softly. “Most people aren’t so… encouraging.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, that’s their loss, isn’t it? Anyone can see you’re as tough as they come. I’ve actually been meaning to watch more of your practices. You make it look easy out there.”

Her grin widened at the compliment, feeling a rare, unguarded confidence settle over her. “It’s not always as easy as it looks. But if you’re ever looking for a challenge, I’d be happy to show you a few defensive moves.”

“Is that an offer?” he asked, his blue eyes bright with interest.

“Only if you’re brave enough to face a Gryffindor Beater,” she teased.

“Consider me very interested,” he replied, his gaze steady and warm.

For a moment, their eyes met, and the usual chill of the evening air felt a bit warmer. Lysander’s easy demeanor and the confidence in his tone left her feeling lighter.

But before she could respond, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye—a flash of familiar dark curls and a piercing gaze that could only belong to one person.

Sebastian was watching them from across the field, his face unreadable but his stance tense, as if every muscle in his body was wound tight. His gaze flicked from her to Lysander, a shadow of something she couldn’t quite place lingering in his eyes.

She turned back to Lysander, offering him a smile in spite of the strange tension coiling in her stomach. "Well, then. Let me know when you’re ready for that challenge."

“Will do, Evangeline.” He shot her one last, lingering look before heading back to join the rest of his team.

As he walked off, she stole another glance at Sebastian. She wasn’t sure why, but something about his expression left her feeling unsettled.

"Sallow," she greeted him, folding her arms with a playful smirk. "Spying on the competition, are we?"

Sebastian didn’t smile. Instead, he held her gaze, his eyes dark and intense in a way that sent an odd shiver down her spine. "Just watching out for Gryffindor’s star Beater," he replied, his tone light but edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

"I think I can take care of myself," Evangeline chuckled, "Were you here when I intercepted that bludger?"

“Yeah, I saw,” he replied, his voice tight. His gaze shifted in the direction Lysander had gone, a flicker of something like irritation crossing his face. "Didn’t think you’d be sharing Beater tips with the competition, though.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “He was just thanking me for stopping him from getting hit. I’d say that’s just basic Quidditch etiquette, wouldn’t you?”

Sebastian shrugged, crossing his arms. "Sure."

Evangeline raised an eyebrow at Sebastian’s short reply, feeling an odd mixture of curiosity and amusement at his strange behavior. He was usually the first to jump in with teasing or witty remarks, but today there was something off, a hint of something guarded in his tone. She shook it off, figuring he was just having an off day, and instead gave him a small nudge.

“Anyway, enough about me playing nice with the Ravenclaws,” she said with a grin. “Are you ready to grab something to eat? I’m absolutely starving.”

That did the trick—his expression softened immediately, and the hint of tension in his stance melted as a mischievous glint returned to his eyes. “Always ready to eat,” he replied, offering her a lopsided smile. “Besides, I think you owe me for keeping me waiting out here in the cold.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, playfully nudging him again as they turned and began walking back toward the castle. The chill in the air had settled deep into her muscles, and she relished the thought of the warm Great Hall and the promise of a hearty meal.

As they made their through the castle, the chatter of students filled the corridors, and they fell into an easy rhythm, trading jabs and comments about practice, the lingering shadows of Sebastian's odd behaviour seemingly forgotten—at least for the moment.

But as they took their seats in the bustling Great Hall, Sebastian’s gaze drifted across the room, and she noticed his eyes linger on a group of Hufflepuff girls who seemed to have been watching him since they walked in. One of them smiled and whispered to her friend, who laughed as they both looked in Sebastian’s direction.

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, feeling a strange twist in her chest. She forced herself to focus on her plate, telling herself it didn’t matter. Sebastian was just a friend, and he was free to entertain any attention he wanted.

At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, the twist in her chest didn’t ease, so she distracted herself by spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate with more force than necessary. Next to her, Sebastian raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his face as he noticed her rather aggressive serving.

“Blimey, Evie,” he teased, nudging her. “Those potatoes have done nothing to deserve your wrath.”

She forced a laugh, shrugging. “Just building up my strength for Gryffindor’s next match. You wouldn’t understand, Slytherin.”

He laughed, though he seemed only half-invested, his gaze flicking back to the other table. She gritted her teeth, unable to keep the bite of irritation from her tone.

“See something interesting over there?” she asked, feigning nonchalance as she took a sip of pumpkin juice.

Sebastian gave her an innocent look, though his eyes held a glimmer of mischief. “Just… observing. You know, studying the social dynamics of our dear classmates.”

Evangeline tried to brush off his nonchalant answer, but the glint of mischief in his eyes was unmistakable. Since the start of term, it seemed like Sebastian had become something of a sensation among the female students. Sure, he’d always been popular—Sebastian was the type of person who could charm his way out of nearly any situation, his effortless confidence and easy smile making him the center of attention wherever he went. But this year, it had escalated. It was as if half the girls at Hogwarts had woken up and suddenly realized just how… intriguing Sebastian Sallow really was.

She’d had more than a few girls approach her in recent weeks, questions tinged with curiosity and, sometimes, just a hint of jealousy. They’d ask her about him, insisting that, as his best friend, she surely knew him better than anyone. And she supposed they were right. But every time a girl approached her with a subtle—or, more often, blatant—query about his “type” or his “favourite place to go in Hogsmeade,” Evangeline had to fight back the urge to roll her eyes. She couldn’t really blame them, though. Sebastian was… well, undeniably attractive.

There was something in the way he carried himself, that unshakeable confidence tempered with a mischievous glint that made him seem like he was always two steps ahead of everyone else. His dark curls had grown slightly longer, often tousled in that way that made him look like he’d just stepped off his broom. His warm brown eyes had a way of lighting up whenever he was scheming or teasing someone, and that boyish grin of his—crooked and a little too smug—seemed to captivate anyone who dared to meet it.

But it wasn’t just his looks. Sebastian had a magnetic energy that made people feel drawn to him, like they were in on some secret joke when they were with him. He was sharp-witted, quick with a comeback, and fiercely loyal to the people he cared about. And if his growing collection of admirers had any clue just how protective and caring he could be, Evangeline figured the line of hopefuls would double in length.

"Evangeline?"

“Evangeline?”

She stiffened, her fork pausing mid-air as his voice snapped her out of her thoughts. She met his deep brown gaze, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity of it. She’d seen his face a thousand times, knew the lines and angles of it like the back of her hand. But somehow, he always seemed to catch her by surprise. His skin was permanently tanned from long hours in the sun, with a natural flush that highlighted his cheekbones, and faint freckles dusted across his nose that made him look just a bit softer. But his eyes, deep and unwavering, held a warmth that seemed to pierce through her.

Her heart did a small, traitorous skip, and she quickly looked down, clearing her throat as she tried to steady herself. “Sorry—what did you say?”

Sebastian’s brows lifted, his lips curving into that familiar, crooked smile. “Lost in thought, were we?” he teased, leaning forward with a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Just thinking about our next match,” she said, keeping her tone light as she pushed her peas around. “Gryffindor’s got to stay sharp if we’re going to crush Slytherin.”

He chuckled, his gaze still fixed on her in that slightly unsettling, knowing way. “Right. Definitely looked like some intense Quidditch strategizing going on there.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her heart raced under his scrutiny. “Well, someone’s got to keep focused around here. Meanwhile, you’re too busy being the Great Hall’s new celebrity.”

He leaned back, raising an eyebrow as if amused by the accusation. “Can I help it if people finally appreciate my charm and wit?”

Evangeline snorted, unable to resist the smirk that crept onto her face. “Appreciate it? You’re practically fending off fans with a broomstick these days. You could probably sell autographs.”

Sebastian laughed, shrugging, though a flicker of something crossed his expression—just a hint of discomfort, quickly replaced with his usual confidence. “Maybe I should. Could make a few galleons on the side. But,” he leaned in closer, his voice dropping a little, “I’d never charge you, Evie.”

She waved him off with a scoff, he voice flat. “Lucky me. I’ll treasure it.”

But even as they continued their playful banter, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in her chest, nor could she ignore the way her thoughts kept circling back to the attention he was getting, the attention that had become more noticeable with every passing week. And the worst part was, she couldn't even be upset about it, because she had no right to be. After all, Sebastian was just her friend—her best friend, at that—and he was free to flirt, charm, and bask in attention however he wanted. She should be happy for him, really. He’d always enjoyed a bit of spotlight, and if the girls at Hogwarts had finally realized what she’d known all along—that he was clever and magnetic and far too charming for his own good—then that was fine.

Or at least, it should’ve been.

"...are you going to actually eat anything?" Sebastian's voice was softer now, his gaze fixed on her with a mix of concern and curiosity.

Evangeline blinked, realizing she’d been absentmindedly pushing her food around her plate, barely touching it.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied, forcing a quick smile as she speared a potato and took a hasty bite, hoping it would mask the unease brewing beneath the surface. But his gaze didn’t waver; he was watching her closely, like he could see right through the flimsy shield of her smile.

“Evie…” He leaned in, lowering his voice, a flicker of worry in his brown eyes. "You have been eating, haven't you? You know, since we... talked about..."

Evangeline felt her stomach twist, caught off guard by the concern in his eyes. The reminder of their conversation a couple months ago—the one where he'd confronted her about that damned muffin she picked to pieces instead of eating—felt like a weight pressing down on her chest. She looked away, busying herself with cutting a piece of roast, though her appetite had vanished entirely.

“Yeah, I’ve been eating,” she said lightly, trying to keep her tone dismissive. “Just... maybe not as much as you.”

He let out a small huff of laughter, though it sounded forced, his eyes never leaving her. “Alright. But if something's going on, you can talk to me, you know.”

She met his gaze again, feeling a pang of guilt at the worry etched in his face. Part of her wanted to brush it off with another joke, but the sincerity in his expression made it hard to do so. There were no teasing smirks now, no crooked grins. Just Sebastian—her Sebastian—looking at her with that unwavering loyalty, his eyes full of something that made her heart ache.

"Seriously," she assured him, giving his hand a gentle pat, her fingers lingering on the familiar warmth of his skin, roughened slightly from Quidditch practice and dueling spells.

“I’m fine, Sebastian. Promise,” she added, her voice softening as she tried to ease the worry in his eyes.

He searched her face for a moment longer, and she could see the conflict there—half of him wanting to believe her, the other half reluctant to let it go.

Finally, he nodded, though the worry didn’t fully fade from his expression. He held her gaze a beat longer before shifting his tone, an almost playful glint sneaking back into his eyes.

“So… Clearwater, then?” he asked, his voice light, though she didn’t miss the way his fingers subtly tightened around his goblet.

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks. “This again? Sebastian, he just thanked me for stopping him from being knocked out.”

“Mhm,” Sebastian hummed, his gaze narrowing slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s why he looked like he’d just won the Quidditch Cup while you were talking. And he asked you for ‘pointers,’ didn’t he?”

She felt her cheeks warm further but shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Well, maybe he’s just… appreciative of good teamwork.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Sebastian’s smirk deepened, though his eyes held a hint of something sharper, something he was trying to disguise under his usual teasing. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You should watch yourself with Clearwater. He’s got a reputation, you know. Doesn’t exactly… stay loyal to the people he charms.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, amused at his sudden protectiveness. “Are you really lecturing me on loyalty, Mr. I’ve Been Flirting With Half of Hogwarts Since Term Started?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before chuckling softly, a hint of color rising in his cheeks. “That’s different,” he said, brushing it off. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

"What is it you two are bickering about this time?" Ominis’s dry voice interrupted, cutting through their playful back-and-forth as he slid onto the bench beside them.

Sebastian leaned back, rolling his eyes but grinning. “Just sharing some wisdom about the pitfalls of inter-house ‘friendships.’”

Evangeline scoffed, nudging Sebastian’s shoulder with her own. “Apparently, Lysander Clearwater isn’t up to Sallow standards.”

Ominis raised an eyebrow, turning his head toward Sebastian, a wry smile ghosting his lips. “And here I thought your standards had been loosened by half the female population at Hogwarts. Pot, meet kettle.”

Sebastian groaned, looking between his two friends with a playfully exasperated look. “What’s this? Ganging up on me now? You both know that’s hardly fair.”

“Hardly fair?” Evangeline smirked, her eyes twinkling. “You started it. Apparently, Lysander looking my way is cause for a full inspection.”

Ominis chuckled softly, reaching for a roll and tearing it in half. “I assume he's already attacking poor Clearwater's character."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, though there was a slight twitch in his jaw as he tried to keep his expression casual. “I’m not attacking his character,” he protested, though his tone was defensive. “Just… pointing out that he’s got a reputation, that’s all.”

“Ah, yes,” Ominis said dryly, dipping his roll into his soup. “The renowned Sebastian Sallow, Protector of Morals and Character Assessment.”

Evangeline laughed, covering her mouth as she shot Sebastian an amused look as Ominis continued, “Lysander is a perfectly respectable Ravenclaw. As respectable as they come, actually. Unlike some people,” he added, raising an eyebrow in Sebastian’s direction.

Sebastian huffed, clearly unimpressed. “Respectable? Please. The guy flirts with anything that moves.”

“Oh, so it’s fine when you do it, but not when he does?” Evangeline teased, nudging him. “Sounds a bit hypocritical, don’t you think?”

Sebastian opened his mouth to retort but hesitated, searching for a suitable comeback. He ended up shrugging instead, though the slight flush in his cheeks betrayed him. “It’s different. I’m not trying to charm you into anything.”

The words lingered in the air, a thoughtless remark tossed out in the heat of their banter. But as they settled, Evangeline felt a prickling sting she hadn’t expected. He’d said it so casually—I’m not trying to charm you into anything—as if the idea of wanting to charm her was laughable.

Her smile faltered, the laughter between them fading like the last glow of a dying ember. She turned her face away, hiding the flicker of hurt that had crept into her eyes. For a heartbeat, she tried to push it aside, to pretend it didn’t matter, but the words stuck, a quiet ache settling in her chest.

Sebastian must have realized it too because his smirk vanished, replaced by a look of dawning regret as he watched her, but she was already looking down at her plate, jaw tight, unwilling to let him see how much his careless comment had landed. Ominis, observing the silent exchange, let out a sigh, clearly exasperated with the two of them, his fingers drumming impatiently on the table.

He was used to their back-and-forth, but lately, he’d been watching this game between them with a blend of fondness and frustration, certain they were the only two in the castle who couldn’t see what was right in front of them.

Evangeline straightened, feeling the weight of Sebastian’s gaze on her, but she didn’t dare look back. If he couldn’t see her as someone worth noticing, maybe someone else could. She pushed herself up from the table abruptly, drawing curious glances from both boys.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian asked, a hint of alarm creeping into his voice as she turned from him, refusing to meet his gaze.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she let her eyes drift across the hall, settling on the Ravenclaw table where Lysander sat among his friends, laughing over something. The sight of his easygoing smile brought a small sense of defiance blooming in her chest, and without another word, she strode over to the Ravenclaws, her chin held high.

Ominis watched her go, then turned to Sebastian, his expression flat with annoyance and pity. “Well done,” he said dryly, clearly unimpressed. “You’re truly a master of tact, Sallow.”

Sebastian barely heard him, his eyes fixed on Evangeline as she approached Lysander’s table. She was smiling now, though he could see the stiffness in her shoulders, the forced cheer in her expression as she struck up a conversation with the Ravenclaw Chaser. A knot twisted in his stomach as he watched Lysander’s face light up, his grin widening as Evangeline said something that made him laugh.

For a moment, Sebastian felt a pang of something hot and fierce that he didn’t want to name. He wanted to look away, pretend it didn’t matter, but he couldn’t tear his gaze from the scene. The way Lysander leaned in, the way Evangeline tilted her head with a smile—it stirred something raw inside him.

“Jealous?” Ominis asked, his voice cutting through Sebastian’s thoughts with maddening calmness.

Sebastian shot him a glare, bristling. “Of course not,” he muttered, but his voice sounded too tight, too strained to be convincing. He looked back toward Evangeline, who was now laughing at something Lysander had said, her head thrown back in a way that made her seem… free.

“Oh, of course,” Ominis drawled, crossing his arms. “That’s why you look ready to hex poor Clearwater where he sits.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw, his fists tightening under the table. “He’s… she doesn’t even like him,” he muttered, trying to sound unconcerned, but his eyes never left her.

"Maybe not yet," Ominis replied, his tone sharpening as he watched Sebastian’s face. "But surely you must realize that telling the woman you're in love with that you're not interested in her won’t exactly bring her closer, will it?"

Sebastian felt his stomach drop, his eyes snapping to Ominis. “I didn’t say I’m in—” he started, his voice low, but Ominis cut him off with a look, one that spoke volumes.

“Oh, spare me,” Ominis said, his exasperation clear. “Anyone with half a brain can see it, and I don’t even need my eyes.”

Sebastian’s shoulders slumped, his gaze flickering over to where Evangeline sat, laughing with Lysander as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She looked… happy. And that, somehow, made the ache in his chest even worse.

“Look, it’s not as simple as you think,” Sebastian muttered, finally tearing his eyes away. “She… she’s my best friend. If she knew… well, what if it ruins everything?”

Ominis sighed, setting down his spoon with a deliberate clink. "If she knew, she might understand why you’re behaving like a jealous idiot.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of Ominis’s words settling over him, heavy and irrefutable. Deep down, he knew his friend was right. He knew that this quiet jealousy simmering beneath his skin would only push her further away, that he was risking something valuable, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself in full.

But Sebastian Sallow had never been particularly known for his rational decisions, especially when emotions came into play. His impulse to act, to throw himself into a moment without worrying about the consequences, was hard-wired. And right now, he felt that impulsive urge flaring, pushing against his better judgment.

"Sebastian," Ominis warned, sensing the shift in his posture, the way his jaw set with stubborn resolve. “Don’t be foolish.

Sebastian forced a grin, though it felt hollow. “Relax, Ominis."

Ominis’s hand shot out, grabbing Sebastian’s arm with surprising strength. “Sebastian,” he said quietly, his tone a rare mixture of urgency and exasperation. “You’re going to make things worse. For both of you.”

Sebastian hesitated, just for a moment, feeling the weight of Ominis’s words and the weight of his grip. But then he shrugged him off, giving him a look that was equal parts defiance and frustration. “I appreciate your concern, Ominis. Really. But I know what I’m doing.”

Without another word, he turned and made his way across the Great Hall, ignoring Ominis’s quiet sigh and the slight shake of his head. He could feel the eyes of a few students on him as he crossed the room, the usual curious glances that followed him since term started. And he didn’t miss the way the group of Hufflepuff girls he’d noticed earlier sat up a little straighter as he approached, their whispers stopping as they exchanged excited looks.

He slid into an empty seat next to the nearest girl, offering her an easy smile that he’d perfected over years of half-hearted flirting. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice warm and inviting.

The girl—he thought her name was Lily—looked momentarily stunned, her cheeks flushing pink as she stammered a quick, “Not at all!” Her friends exchanged glances, their excitement barely contained, and Sebastian felt a fleeting surge of satisfaction. If Evangeline wanted to act like Lysander was the most charming bloke at Hogwarts, then he’d give her something to notice, too.

From across the hall, Evangeline felt her jaw clench as she watched Sebastian settle in among the Hufflepuff girls, his easy smile and charm on full display.

Fine, she thought, glancing away with forced indifference. If Sebastian wanted to throw himself at every girl who batted an eyelash his way, that was his choice. She certainly wasn’t going to sit around worrying over it. Instead, she turned her attention to Lysander, who was midway through a story about a misadventure in Ravenclaw Tower involving an escaped Fwooper.

She laughed, genuinely this time, as Lysander animatedly described the scene, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. The Ravenclaw’s charm was undeniable, his easygoing smile and gentle confidence putting her at ease. As she listened, she found herself relaxing, letting her focus shift from the sting of Sebastian’s behavior to the warmth of the conversation in front of her.

“So,” Lysander said, leaning slightly closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it true Gryffindor Beaters have secret drills for extra strength?”

Evangeline smirked, shrugging playfully. “Maybe. You’ll have to earn that kind of classified information, though.”

He grinned, lifting a brow, "Earn it, you say? And what exactly would it take for a humble Ravenclaw Chaser like me to earn such privileged information?”

Evangeline bit back a smile, trying to match his playful tone. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, tapping her chin as though she were deep in thought. Inside, her heart was racing, each word requiring more confidence than she felt.

Unlike Sebastian, who seemed to flirt effortlessly and without a second thought, Evangeline was not naturally flirtatious. She was far deeper into this than she’d planned, each exchanged look and teasing remark drawing her further in. The thrill of it—the unfamiliar territory of genuine, mutual interest—sent a rush through her, both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Perhaps, we could discuss terms over a butterbeer at the Broomsticks?"

She couldn't believe the words had left her mouth. Had she really just suggested that? A flicker of nerves swept through her, and she fought to keep her expression steady, hoping her voice hadn’t sounded as shaky as she felt.

Lysander’s face lit up, his easy smile shifting into something warmer, almost excited. “Now that,” he said, leaning in just a touch closer, “sounds like an excellent idea. Would tomorrow work for you, Evangeline?"

Her heart gave a little flip at the way he said her name, soft and sure, like it was something he’d wanted to say for a while. She held his gaze, feeling her cheeks warm under his steady look, and couldn’t help the small, genuine smile that tugged at her lips. This felt… new, like she’d opened a door to something she hadn’t realized she wanted.

“Alright,” she replied, managing to keep her tone light, “but fair warning: Gryffindor terms are notoriously steep. I hope you’re prepared.”

Lysander chuckled, unfazed. “I’d expect nothing less."

Evangeline lingered with Lysander for another few minutes, their conversation light and easy, a comfortable warmth settling between them as they continued to exchange smiles and laughs.

Eventually, she glanced over her shoulder and noticed Ominis waiting patiently, his gaze turned politely toward the far end of the hall. She realized with a start that she’d been chatting with Lysander much longer than she’d meant to.

“Well,” she said, returning her gaze to Lysander, her lips curling into a soft smile. “Thanks for the company. And, um… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Lysander’s smile widened, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. “Tomorrow it is. I’ll look forward to it, Evangeline.”

Her cheeks warmed as he said her name, and she gave him a small nod before finally breaking away. She turned and made her way back to Ominis, her heart still racing slightly from the thrill of agreeing to meet Lysander.

When she reached Ominis, he turned toward her with a bemused expression, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “You were over there for a while,” he commented, his voice laced with amusement. “I’d nearly forgotten we were here to eat.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “I was just being friendly.”

“Friendly, hm?” Ominis arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “It looked a bit more than ‘friendly’ from where I was sitting. I’d go so far as to call it ‘charmed.’”

She tried to shrug off his comment, but the hint of color on her cheeks betrayed her. “Well… maybe there was a little charm involved.”

Ominis chuckled, his smirk widening. “It seems I’ll have to get used to you being the center of attention for once, though I think there’s one person here who won’t be quite as pleased about it.”

Evangeline’s smile faltered as she followed Ominis’s gaze back to where Sebastian sat with the Hufflepuff girls, his easy laugh and confident posture unmistakable. Even from a distance, she could tell he was laying on his charm. The familiar pang of irritation crept back into her chest as she watched him, feeling that strange, unsettling twist that she still didn’t want to name.

“It's not like I care what he thinks,” she muttered, crossing her arms.

Ominis gave her a long, skeptical look, one that made her cheeks burn. She shot him a warning glance, daring him to say anything more.

“Alright," He acquiesced, "So what did you and Clearwater talk about? Or should I be asking what you two agreed on, based on that smile?”

Evangeline hesitated, feeling her cheeks warm again under his knowing gaze. “He… may have agreed meet up for a butterbeer tomorrow. Just to, you know, chat about Quidditch and such.”

“Of course,” Ominis replied, his voice dripping with amused disbelief. “Just casual Quidditch talk, is it?”

She huffed, nudging him with her elbow. “Honestly, Ominis, it’s nothing serious. Just… something new. I thought it’d be fun.”

“Good,” Ominis said, his expression softening. “You deserve some fun, Evangeline.”

As they finished up lunch, they chatted about classes, gossip around the school, and their upcoming assignments, Ominis filling the time with his usual dry wit and grounded observations. The comfort of his friendship helped chase away the lingering thoughts of Sebastian and Lysander, allowing her to settle into a sense of ease once again.

Later that evening, Evangeline and Ominis tucked themselves into a quiet corner of the library to study. Stacks of parchment, a handful of old textbooks, and an assortment of quills were spread out between them, illuminated by the flickering glow of a nearby lantern. The library was mostly empty, the muffled silence only broken by the occasional soft footsteps of Scribner as she prowled the aisles, keeping an eagle eye on the few students who lingered.

Evangeline was absorbed in her notes when she sensed movement out of the corner of her eye. Glancing up, she nearly dropped her quill. Sebastian was weaving his way through the shelves, and he looked… well, thoroughly disheveled.

His shirt was partially untucked, his tie hanging loosely and crooked, and his dark curls were charmingly mussed, as though he’d either been in a hurry—or had been busy with something else entirely. His gaze darted around the library as if searching for someone, and when his eyes landed on her, he froze.

Ominis noticed her sudden silence and looked up. “Is something wrong?” he asked, but then he followed her gaze and gave an exasperated sigh. “Ah. I see someone’s had an eventful evening.”

Sebastian made his way over to them, sliding into the seat across from her with a lazy grin, entirely unbothered by his disheveled state. “Evening,” he said, stretching out and folding his hands behind his head, giving off an air of smug satisfaction.

“Had a good night, did we?” Ominis asked, not bothering to mask the sarcasm.

Sebastian shrugged, looking at them with a glint in his eye. “Not bad,” he replied. “I may have run into a few people who needed entertaining.”

Evangeline kept her face carefully blank, refusing to give Sebastian the satisfaction of a reaction, but beneath the surface, she felt like the air had been pulled from her lungs.

Her chest tightened painfully as she imagined what he'd been up to, and with whom. A vague, irrational jealousy flared, stinging her with an intensity she hadn’t expected.

It wasn’t fair, she told herself. She had no right to feel this way, no right to feel possessive over him, but that didn’t stop her mind from replaying the image of him hidden away with some Hufflepuff girl in a broom closet, his face inches from hers, that same lazy grin he now wore aimed at someone else. The idea left a bitter taste in her mouth.

After a tense silence, she managed to last another five minutes, pretending to be engrossed in her studies, but each second felt like a fresh test of her endurance. Finally, unable to stand the smug look on Sebastian’s face or the suffocating jealousy tightening in her chest, she snapped her book shut.

“I think that’s all for me tonight,” she announced, shoving her notes and quill into her bag with hurried movements. “I’ve got an early morning.”

Ominis, perceptive as ever, raised an eyebrow but kept a knowing smile to himself. “Goodnight, Evie,” he replied, and then, as though he’d read her thoughts, added with perfectly timed mischief, “And enjoy your butterbeer with Lysander tomorrow.”

The effect on Sebastian was immediate. His relaxed posture tensed, and his lazy grin faded, his brows drawing together in confusion and irritation. He opened his mouth to say something, but Evangeline was already getting to her feet, determined to escape before he could ask any questions.

“Thanks, Ominis,” she said, shooting him a small, grateful smile, as if he’d somehow offered her a lifeline. “Goodnight, Sebastian,” she added with forced nonchalance, barely looking at him.

“Night, Evie,” he replied, but his voice lacked its usual warmth, and she could feel his eyes boring into her as she made her way toward the library exit.

As Evangeline disappeared around the corner, Sebastian watched the spot where she’d just been, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He seemed to be struggling to process what Ominis had just casually dropped into the conversation. A date with Lysander Clearwater? Since when did she—

“What was that all about?” Sebastian finally asked, his voice tight as he turned to Ominis. His eyes held a mix of frustration and something that bordered on betrayal.

Ominis leaned back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. “What?" he replied, feigning innocence as he flipped open his book again, though he wasn’t even glancing at the page.

Sebastian huffed, crossing his arms and sinking back in his chair. “Since when is she… going on dates."

“Oh, since today,” Ominis replied, his tone smooth and maddeningly calm. “She asked him out. They’re meeting at the Three Broomsticks.”

She asked him?! The confirmation made something twist uncomfortably in Sebastian’s chest. He remembered Evie talking to Clearwater earlier, her bright smile and relaxed demeanour, the way she’d laughed with him in a way that looked so… easy. And now, that same ease would be shared over butterbeer, while he’d be left to watch from the sidelines, unwanted and out of place.

“What’s so great about him, anyway?” Sebastian muttered, glaring at a distant spot on the library wall. “He’s… boring. Probably reads strategy books for fun.”

Ominis chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Don’t be so dramatic, Sebastian. Lysander’s a perfectly decent person. He’s polite, intelligent, kind—qualities Evangeline seems to appreciate.” He shot Sebastian a sidelong glance, his gaze softening. “It’s not exactly a mystery why she might enjoy his company.”

Sebastian scoffed, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “He’s just not… right for her. They’ve barely spoken before this term.”

“And you’d rather have her stay by your side, trailing after you while you flirt with every girl who looks your way?” Ominis raised an eyebrow, his tone cool. “You can’t have it both ways, Sebastian.”

“I’m not—” Sebastian started, his frustration growing as Ominis’s words dug under his skin. “It’s not like that. I just don’t see why she has to be with someone like him.”

Ominis closed his book with a soft thud, fixing Sebastian with a patient yet exasperated look. “Listen, Sebastian. You’re my best friend, but you’re also insufferably thick sometimes. If you're not going to admit how you feel, then you should at least be happy for her.”

Sebastian’s fists clenched at his sides, unwilling to admit that Ominis was right, that this wasn’t just a matter of Clearwater’s supposed faults. No, it was the gnawing feeling in his chest, the realization that he’d taken her presence for granted—believing, foolishly, that she’d always be there, waiting in the background, just for him.

“Do you really think she’s… interested in him?” he asked quietly, almost hoping Ominis would tell him otherwise.

Ominis sighed, softening. “I think she’s looking for someone who appreciates her, and Lysander’s offered her that. And frankly, she deserves it.” Then, after a beat, he added pointedly, “But it doesn’t have to be him, Sebastian. You could stop pretending you’re not interested.”

Sebastian didn’t respond immediately, staring at the table as if it held answers he couldn’t grasp. Obviously, he wasn’t about to admit to Evangeline that he was undeniably, completely, and utterly in love with her—and had been for over a year now. There was a terrifying vulnerability in even considering it, in risking the one constant he’d always counted on.

But the image of her laughing with Lysander, of her being charmed by him and agreeing to meet him tomorrow, tugged at something deep and raw within him. The thought of her choosing someone else, someone who didn’t know her half as well as he did... he couldn't take it.

Without another word to Ominis, Sebastian pushed back his chair and stood, his resolve hardening with each step he took toward the library exit. Behind him, he heard Ominis sigh, but he didn’t have time to worry about what Ominis thought. Right now, he only knew one thing—he couldn’t just sit there while she walked out of his reach.

The corridors were dim and quiet as he hurried after her, his footsteps echoing as he scanned each hallway, hoping he hadn’t lost her. His heart thudded with a mixture of nerves and frustration as he rounded a corner and finally spotted her, her dark hair falling over her shoulders as she made her way toward the staircase.

“Evie!” he called, his voice louder than he’d intended in the quiet of the castle.

She stopped, turning to see him striding toward her, and her eyes widened slightly, her expression shifting between surprise and something he couldn’t quite place. “Sebastian?” she said, folding her arms defensively as he closed the distance between them.

He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Standing in front of her now, the words he’d wanted to say evaporated, replaced by the realization that he had no plan, only a jumble of emotions he hadn’t sorted out. But he couldn’t turn back now, not with her looking at him like that, as if she could see right through his bravado.

“I, um…” He ran a hand through his hair, stalling for a moment. “I just—didn’t get a chance to say goodnight properly.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Goodnight properly?” She huffed, clearly unconvinced.

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling the weight of her skepticism. “Yeah, you know… just thought I should… say it,” he stumbled, his usual easy confidence faltering. “I mean, you left pretty quickly.”

Evangeline’s brow arched higher, her arms still crossed as she gave him a level look. “I'm tired,” she replied, her voice calm, but there was a flicker of irritation in her eyes. “Long day. And I need to be up early tomorrow."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, and he tried to brush it off, but the words stung, his stomach twisting at the reminder. “Right, for Clearwater,” he said, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

She narrowed her eyes, her irritation flaring. “And?"

Sebastian took a steadying breath, fighting to keep his composure, but his frustration slipped into his tone. “And I just don’t see why you’d waste your time with him, that’s all.”

Evangeline’s eyes flashed, and she uncrossed her arms, taking a step forward. “Waste my time? Since when is having a simple butterbeer wasting my time?”

He clenched his fists, struggling to find the right words. “It’s not that, it’s just… I don’t think he’ll appreciate you. Not really.”

She let out a breath, exasperated. “And you know that how? Did Clearwater suddenly become some kind of villain while I wasn’t looking?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing, Sebastian.” Her voice softened, but there was a sadness there, a deep disappointment that cut through him. “If you can’t be happy for me, then at least don’t make me feel bad for wanting… something new.

Sebastian felt his chest tighten, a desperate urge clawing at him to stop her, to make her see how he felt. But he was paralyzed, the words stuck in his throat. All he could do was watch as she shook her head slightly, her face a mixture of frustration and resignation.

“Goodnight, Sebastian,” she said, her voice laced with a forced calm that did little to hide the sting behind her words. “Have fun snogging your flavor of the week in whatever broom closet you end up in.”

The jab landed harder than he expected, and he flinched, momentarily caught off guard by the bitterness in her tone. She didn’t wait for a response, though. Before he could say anything, she’d already turned, her footsteps brisk and purposeful as she disappeared down the hall.

Sebastian stood there, rooted to the spot, a mixture of guilt and frustration twisting in his chest. The hollow emptiness that followed her departure settled into something heavier, something that gnawed at him with each step she took further out of reach.

A part of him wanted to run after her, to catch her arm and tell her that none of it mattered, that the flirting, the charm he used so carelessly—it was all meaningless. He wanted to tell her that it was only her smile, her laugh, her presence that he craved, that his foolish pride had kept him from admitting what he knew deep down: he didn’t want anyone else.

But he’d let her walk away, and it was too late to take that back now.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

#ao3 author #fanfic #archive of our own #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian sallow #not actually unrequited love #fluff and angst #angst #mutual pining #friends to lovers #jealousy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x oc #sebastian sallow x mc

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choicesfandomappreciation · 13 hours ago

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Choices Fandom Appreciation Day 1

I know I’m a day late, and have not been super active in this space, but I couldn’t miss the chance to thank some of the amazing people I’ve met here. I know I've missed some friends and I am so very sorry! I will post more

@ladylamrian my bestie, my first friend in this space, you are so talented and kind!! 🩷🩷 I adore all the world-building you have done for Nightbound, your beautiful Alex Clarissa Fontaine and Nik Ryder – you’re so talented, I love your fics and edits!! Also, when will you grace us with some Dino-MC fanfiction??!! But most of all, I appreciate our friendship, always! 🥰🩷

@thosehallowedhalls Cee, I adore you, I hope you know that! 💛💛You’re a kind, wonderful soul, you have brightened this space with your caring and generous presence. And boy are you talented!! I just eat all your works of fiction you’re such a good writer!! I appreciate our chats and your encouragements always, I will write that Sam Rose-Luke Watanabe fic one day! 😅🤭

@storyofmychoices As you know, your Mal and Daenarya are what drew me into this fandom, but your kindness, selflessness and just the warmth with which you treat us are what keeps me here. 🩷🩷 You’re a force of good in this fandom, thank you for all the time and effort you put into hosting events, the choiceskindness space and bookclub – amongst sooo many other things!! You are an immensely talented person, I treasure your art and fics and all your pairings fascinate me. While I adore your creativeness, I cherish who you are as a person and I’m just so thankful I met you!! 💛🥰

@lilyoffandoms I am just in awe at how talented you are!! I adore your art and your writing – your angsty blades fics live in my head rent-free. 💛 If it weren’t enough that you are an all-around supremely talented individual, you are also one of the kindest, most generous people I’ve met, gifting your time and talent to spread joy. 🩷 I really appreciate you and all that you do to make this space welcoming – and I adore seeing your art on my dash!!

@jerzwriter Elsa have always been in awe of your writing chops – you are such a talented and prolific writer, thank you for blessing us with your art 😊 I feel like I got to know you a little more through the Wake the Dead re-read and I really appreciate your kindness, creativity and no-nonsense attitude! 💛 You’ve made me feel welcome and seen, thank you! 🩷🩷 Also, how you’re a force within this fandom, giving so much of your time to spotlight writers, artists and creators. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you amiga!! Can’t wait for more Eli, Zoe, Troy and the gang!

@petalouda85 I really appreciate you! I love chit chatting about our blorbos, your Blades fics and your epic book!! You’re amazingly talented and so kind. I’m really glad I met you through this fandom and happy to count you as a friend 🥰🥰

@peonierose I am so glad I met you and we became friends! You are such a bright light in this fandom, you bring warmth, joy and kindness, even when you are going through difficult times. I appreciate you all the more for it. 🌺🩷 And please know I’m always here for you. I adore the world you’ve built for Luna and Bryce, it’s been wonderful getting to know them through your eyes. 🥰

@aallotarenunelma ma chère amie! J’apprécie énormément ta gentillesse et générosité. Même si on ne se parle pas beaucoup dernièrement, je pense souvent à toi et je t’apprécie comme amie. 💛💛 Tu es si talentueuse, le monde que tu as créé pour ID me fascine. Merci aussi pour ton appui et tes commentaires si généreux pour mes histoires. 🥰 Je suis vraiment contente de t’avoir rencontrée, et de te compter parmi mes amies

@gaiuskamilah Jam! I am in love with your brain! Love love love your BB fics and analysis, also Blades and CoP. You make me stop and think deeper about the lesser-appreciated characters *cough* Gaius *cough* - which I wholly appreciate. And you art!! I adore your art!! 💛

@aria-ashryver You are a supremely talented writer, and such a bright light in this fandom!!! ☀️💛 I admire your positivity, kindness even when you’re going through difficult times. I’m sending nothing but positive vibes your way hun, wishing you good health and positive energy! 🩷💛

@oh-so-youre-a-nerd just am in awe with your art! You’re so amazingly talented, I love seeing you on my dash. And I appreciate your kindness 💛

@choicesmc I am in awe with your creativity, I’ve said it to you and will say it again!! Your writing, your edits, your art – just I’m in awe. 🤩🤩 Love seeing your posts on my dash. You’re a force of good and positivity in this fandom, thank you for sharing your world with us!

@cadybear420: I adore your edits, headcanons and fics, you’re super talented, creative, but also really kind. You spread joy and positivity - I really appreciate you! 🥰💛

@erixadraws you are wonderful, talented and kind. 💛 You art always makes me smile – I’m in awe with how you draw our favorite blades babies. I treasure my modern Mal and Autumn!! I’m so glad I met you!

@angelasscribbles I adore your writing. You’re so talented – be it TRR or your Romance Club works, I devour every. Single. Word. I appreciate the time you put in through the monthly prompts and helping to unleash our creativity! (I really hope to participate more). Thank you for sharing your wonderful writing with us! 💛🥰

@bedtimegiraffe I love your Blades playthroughs and analysis - can't get enough of them! 💛

@rjschoicesstuff I love your art! thank you for sharing with us, and for all the wonderful pieces you’ve created for friends within this fandom. I always smile when I see your art on my dash! 🥰

@kyra75, @tessa-liam, @princess-geek, @rosesnink, @bri1234 you are all such kind presences in this fandom, supportive of others and fantastic writers! I can’t wait to read more of your works 💛

@missameliep Dani, I love your writing! Your miniseries with Troy Safe lives rent free in my head. I can't wait to catch up on your other works! 🩷

@artbyalz I am in awe of your talent! love seeing your art on my dash, thank you for sharing it with us! 💛

@trappedinfanfiction you're a wonderful presence in this fandom! I appreciate the love you give Imtura with your lovely MC Rán! You're a talented writer 🩷

@choiceswithmika, we haven’t interacted much lately but I love seeing your amazing edits on my dash! You’re super talented and so kind to create such wonderful edits and art for us 🥰🩷

@liaromancewriter thank you for sharing your wonderful fics with us and hosting the Choicesficwriterscreations blog and promoting all the wonderful creators across this fandom!! We haven’t interacted much but I’ve always admired your writing and your kindness in this space. 💛

@renninflight and @brycesgirl, I appreciate and value the positivity you spread in this little space, please know you are super appreciated (@brycesgirlforever thankful for your HS screenshots!! 😊)

💛

#choicesspreadkindness #choicesspreadkindness 2024 #choices spread kindness #choices fandom shoutout

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mischievouslittlecreature · 3 days ago

Text

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: An incident at Bonnie's boxing match provides the family with an opportunity to end the war.

Word Count: 6,837

Notes: Warnings for depictions of insecurity, violence, blood, and references to past sexual assault and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 27: Endless Shadows

“You look dead,” Alfie said to her in greeting as he entered the locker room, moving to sit on the bench across from them.

“Oh good,” Lucy didn’t open her eyes from where she was still leaning with her head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. “Then I look how I feel.”

Tommy’s thumb rubbed up and down her shoulder soothingly.

She cracked her eyes open a sliver while Alfie and Tommy talked, watching Alfie curiously. There was something odd in his eyes, and his words were almost…melancholic.

“Glad you’re back, kiddo,” he gave her a small pat on the upper arm as he stood and said his farewells. But that look did not cease, creasing at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his lips.

“Thanks, Alfie,” she said, brow furrowing at the near apologetic way in which he said it.

They watched him walk away, heads cocked and frowning.

“Convenient of him to be moving to Margate now, of all times,” Tommy remarked once Alfie was gone. Lucy nodded.

“You think that Luca scared him?”

Tommy’s lips pursed. “Alfie doesn’t strike me as the type to get scared off that easily.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she frowned, still eyeing the archway through which Alfie had disappeared. A roar of cheers emitted from the ring. “We better get going. Fight’s about to start.”

He put out his cigarette, standing and helping her to her feet. Linking her arms back through his, Lucy gave him a soft squeeze.

“Alright?”

She nodded. “Just don’t let me get jostled around too much.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair, kissed her forehead, and led the way back towards the ring.

It already smelled strongly of sweat, booze, and smoke, the men hollering and jeering, lurching and moving like a great wave of bodies as they watched Bonnie and Goliath circle each other. Tommy led the way to their seats next to Arthur, keeping a protective arm around her to shield her from the bulk of the crowd. After they took their seats, Arthur soon started fretting to Tommy about the men that had come with Goliath. Lucy followed his gaze to where they stood in their corner across the ring. The men didn’t look all that engaged with Goliath, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Goliath preferred for his men to be more hands off.

But Arthur continued to insist that something was wrong, despite Tommy’s attempts to soothe him.

Her eyes darted to where Polly, Linda, and Lizzie all were seated across the ring from them, giggling and shouting encouragement to Bonnie while passing around a bottle of Tommy’s gin. As expected they were all dressed up lavishly for the occasion, in glittering, form fitting dresses, furs draped over their shoulders, and jewels dangling from their ears and throats.

Lucy felt a sharp wave of self consciousness wash over her, quickly wrapping her arms around her middle, shoulders drawing in as if that would somehow achieve her new goal of becoming invisible.

She watched Lizzie, so tall and elegant and beautiful as she laughed and chatted with Polly, and wished that the ground would swallow her whole. They could not have looked more different if they’d tried. Where Lizzie was tall and slender, Lucy was short and curvy. Lizzie could wear just about any of the dresses currently in fashion and look marvelous, but if Lucy tried to wear anything without some sort of defined waist, she’d wind up looking as though she was dressed in a potato sack. Some days she could hardly get her curls to cooperate, but Lizzie’s hair was almost always beautifully styled and tamed. Her eyes were actually in proportion with the rest of her face, rather than oversized almost to the point of absurdity like Lucy’s were. Where Lucy’s face was covered in freckles, Lizzie’s porcelain white skin was clear of any marks or blemishes, nor was her body marked with any cuts that would soon heal over into truly hideous scars that would never really fade away.

God, Lucy couldn’t help but think, she had to look absolutely horrid compared to her.

She glanced at Tommy out of the corner of her eye, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. She was not even close to pretty enough to be with him. Lizzie would have looked right at his side. A perfect match–at least outwardly. Lucy could not help but assume that she and Tommy must look terribly mismatched together.

He really probably ought to have his head examined. Even on her best days, no one in their right mind would choose her over Lizzie.

Clearing her throat, she wiped at her face with her sleeve, hoping that anyone who noticed would assume that she was dabbing away sweat and not the tears building up against her lashes.

Movement to her left snatched away her attention. Arthur had stood, disappearing into the crowd and ignoring Tommy’s shouts for him to come back. Instead he continued towards the hallway leading to the back, following right on the heels of one of Goliath’s men who had wandered off from the rest of the pack still gathered by the ring.

“Fuck’s sake.” Tommy grumbled as he watched Arthur go. Lucy settled a hand on his shoulder. Around them, the crowd’s shouts rose to a fever pitch as the fight intensified.

Minutes ticked by, and Arthur did not come back.

Stretching up in her seat, Lucy craned her head around, trying to see if he was in the crowd somewhere and they’d just missed him.

“Tommy,” she grabbed at his bicep in warning as another one of Goliath’s minders left his post, heading in the same direction that Arthur had gone. Seizing her hand, Tommy shot out of his seat, pulling her along with him to follow. His jaw was straining, eyes wide, and she wondered if he was thinking about how she’d stepped out just to run a few errands, and was almost snatched away from him forever. How the same exact thing might be happening with Arthur.

They had just rounded a corner in the maze of backrooms when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot going off echoed somewhere within the halls and rooms up ahead. Tommy skidded to a stop, hand flying into his coat for his gun. Lucy mimicked his movements, flinching at the way that reaching into her coat pulled on her shoulder.

“Stay behind me,” Tommy ordered. She opened her mouth to protest, then promptly closed it. It would be laughable to try to argue that she could actually be of much use right now in anything but a distanced firefight. And he didn’t have time to waste worrying about her getting hurt again. Following him closely at a rather painful jog, they rushed down a hallway bathed in baby blue light, turning into another room in which one of Goliath’s minders was standing over a crumpled Arthur, gun aimed at his head.

Tommy’s shot struck him directly in the chest, and he went slouching to the floor.

Tommy went racing to his brother, shouting his name and pulling him up into his arms. Lucy double checked to ensure that the man he’d shot was actually dead, then checked the corners of the room for any other enemies that may have been skulking about. There was no one.

Rounding back to Tommy, she went to kneel at Arthur’s side. For a second, she thought that he was dead, his eyes were staring at nothing and there was blood on his hands and throat. Tommy curled over him, a hand cupping the side of his older brother’s face, thin rivers of his blood lacing across his hand.

There was roaring from the crowd still gathered around the ring in the distance, the sound reaching such a volume that Lucy thought they very well might bring the roof down. The fight must be over.

Arthur twitched and gasped in Tommy’s arms. Tommy let out a relieved wheeze, hugging him tightly, and Lucy breathed out gratefully, resting a hand on the back of Arthur’s head while his face tucked into Tommy’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Tommy drew back, grabbing him by either side of the face. Arthur nodded, still breathing harshly.

“Just nicked.”

Tommy nodded, and while she drew out a handkerchief for Arthur to dab at his neck, Lucy spotted something shift in Tommy’s eyes, immediately recognizing the telltale expression of an idea taking form as the circuits in his head began to whirl at warp speed.

“Tommy?”

His eyes snapped to her. “I’ve got it figured out.”

“What?”

He grabbed at both of them. “I’ve got it figured out,” he repeated.

“Got what figured out, Tommy?”

His eyes glittered. “How to win.”

∗ ∗ ∗

She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air, creating plenty of noise and commotion, drawing all eyes to him so that Arthur could easily sneak away whilst Tommy announced the news of his ��death’ to the world.

It had been chaos after that; hours spent as their men searched and questioned everyone in attendance before allowing them to leave. And the family had swarmed Tommy with questions and reactions of shock and horror. The only other ones outside of Lucy and Tommy that knew that Arthur was still alive were Polly and Linda. It was the only way to be sure that everyone reacted believably during what was coming next.

The boxing ring was empty and quiet, now. Everyone had finally been dismissed. The family had all gone back home to steep in their shock and grief and prepare for the funeral.

“I’m sorry.” Lucy said, playing with her fingers, keeping her voice quiet.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, fishing a cigarette from his case and swiping it across his lips. “Why?”

“I feel like I’m really fucking useless right now.”

His features creased, moving to stand directly in front of her. “Hey, no; none of that now. You’re hurt. It’s not your fault. Besides, you’ve already taken out plenty of Luca’s men throughout this vendetta.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’ve more than done your part.”

She sighed, leaning her forehead into his chest. The day had been long, and she was exhausted. Her injuries, particularly her back and shoulders, were starting to hurt badly.

“Let’s go home.” Tommy suggested, reaching for her hand. Lucy took it eagerly, letting him lead her from the building and out onto the streets. Tomorrow would be busy. They needed to get back to the house to start preparing for it.

“It was some of Alfie’s boys that attacked us,” Tommy mumbled, head bowed, the hand that wasn’t holding hers slipping into his pocket.

“I can’t believe that he betrayed us for Luca of all people.”

Tommy shrugged. “It’s what Alfie does.” But the hurt in his voice was obvious. “Maybe Luca threatened him.”

“When has Alfie ever backed down because of threats?”

A sigh of agreement left his lips. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, her own hurt at Alfie’s actions squeezing within her throat.

“Do you think he knew that they took me?” Her voice was quiet, not bothering to try to hide the pain that the thought brought her. She’d known Alfie since they were teenagers. He’d gotten her medical attention that she likely would have died without it after Matthew and his friends assaulted her. And despite her working for and being wholly loyal to Tommy, they’d always maintained a friendly, warm relationship. That he would allow for her to be tortured…

She bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. Tommy squeezed her hand.

“I don’t know, love. When I called him while you were missing to ask him to have some of his men search for you in London, he seemed genuinely worried. I don’t think…” he trailed off with another sigh. “I don’t think that he knew. But it’s hard to say for sure.”

“Yeah,” she offered him a wobbly half smile. “I’m assuming we’re gonna have to pay him a visit to Margate after things are cleaned up here.”

Tommy’s jaw twitched, eyes growing even more sorrowful than they’d been a moment ago. They both knew how any visit to Alfie was now likely to end. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“I guess we can ask him then.”

They continued to walk together in silence. There was something else that she wanted to discuss with him, but she was unsure how he would take it. She’d never made a suggestion quite like the one she was about to make. Mounting her courage, she forced her lips to part and her tongue to move.

“I think that you should send Michael away.”

Tommy did not react, head still dipped, staring at his shoes and the cobblestones while they walked. She’d just opened her mouth to say more when he finally spoke.

“Yes, I think you’re right.”

“I don’t trust him anymore.”

“Me neither.”

She sighed, both in relief at Tommy’s agreement to her suggestion and with disappointment towards the boy that had once shown so much promise. “Well…fuck.”

He hummed in agreement. “Not our best year.”

“No. No, it really hasn’t been.”

His fingers flexed against hers in a tender squeeze, head turning to kiss her forehead. She could see the house on the end of the block, her tired bones giving a quiet cry of relief at the thought of soon being able to rest.

∗ ∗ ∗

The next few days were spent laying meticulous plans and taking careful actions. Michael was sent away to New York, and Lucy and Tommy spent a significant amount of time on the phone, locked in calculated negotiations. Arthur’s funeral was a quiet affair, a good amount of tears shed and sorrow exchanged between the family as the wagon went up in flames.

The meeting that took place after with Audrey Changretta saw Lucy leaning against a wall. Luca had taken her rings, so her hands had begun to instead unconsciously pick at the skin of her fingers whenever she was nervous, leaving bloody scabs to add to her ever growing collection. She did not say a word during the whole exchange, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, not even looking at Audrey for fear that if she did, she’d kill her.

This woman. This cunt who John had spared. And how did she repay them? By setting her sadistic fucking son on all of them. Her husband had Tommy’s wife killed, and yet she dared to speak as if his death by their hands was unjustified.

When the meeting was over, Audrey gathered up her things, and went to the door. Upon passing Lucy, she stopped, looking over her bruised face and the bandages peeking out from under her clothes. Lucy forced herself to meet the woman’s cold eyes, keeping all feeling off her face. Audrey leaned forward, so that Lucy could smell the sickly sweet scent of her perfume.

“You deserved every second of it.”

“That’s enough; get out,” Polly commanded, taking a step forward, probably at least in part so that she was placed between Audrey and Tommy. A dark storm cloud of rage had passed across his eyes at Audrey’s words, his icy gaze remaining locked on the back of her head as Polly ushered her out the door. He looked to be seconds away from throwing the whole carefully laid plan to the wayside and killing her then and there.

Heaving herself away from the wall, Lucy went to him, resting both hands on his upper arms to get his attention and draw him away from his murderous thoughts. She rubbed her palms back and forth, feeling the heat and strength of his arms through the layers of his clothes.

“She’ll get what’s coming to her,” she reminded him. No need to rush things. Besides, what they had planned for Audrey would be far more satisfying than a quick bullet to the back of the head.

Tommy nodded, head angling down and wetting his lips. Lucy leaned closer to him.

“Almost done,” she whispered in quiet encouragement.

“Yes,” Tommy murmured, with the tone of someone who knew that the tribulations of life would never fully be finished with them. “Almost.”

∗ ∗ ∗

She passed form after form to Polly and Tommy, helping to keep track of which ones still needed to be signed and by who. The scratch of pens against paper and the rustling of pages was the primary sound in the office, save for the occasional clearing of Tommy’s throat, or quiet mumbles from any of the three of them.

When they were finally done, Tommy gathered all files into a folder, sighing and planting both hands on his desk while Polly leaned back in her chair, flexing the fingers of her writing hand.

“Right, so now–” Lucy began, but was cut off by the door flying open. With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. Lucy shrank away, quickly getting up from her chair so that she could retreat into the corner while Lizzie snarled questions as to why Tommy hadn’t been by her house yet to visit her. Tommy sighed, slumping back into his chair with a cigarette. Polly’s eyes darted shrewdly between the three of them. Lizzie dropped into the seat Lucy had been occupying, an expectant look on her face.

Lucy frowned at the entitlement. Had she forgotten that they were still in the middle of a fucking war? That, as far as she knew, Tommy’s brother had just died? Did she really think now was a good time to start making demands of his time and energy?

She flinched at her bitter thoughts, looking shamefully down at her hands, aware that she probably wasn’t being fair.

Despite their talk before the kidnapping, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that Lizzie and the baby inside of her were hanging over her relationship with Tommy like the blade of a guillotine, poised and ready to drop at any moment to sever them from each other.

She glanced out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. As Tommy and Polly explained to Lizzie that Luca was coming for them all tomorrow, Lizzie’s face paled. She stared at Tommy, completely aghast at his apparent surrender.

“You can’t just…you can’t just let him take everything…” she began to stammer.

“You want to live?” Tommy asked. Lizzie pressed her lips together, eyes wide. “This makes that possible.”

Lizzie looked around at all of them with her lips parted. “Wha–you all are alright with just giving up?”

“I thought that you wanted him to stop all of this sort of work anyway, Lizzie,” Lucy mumbled. Petty? Maybe. But her shoulders were starting to hurt again and she really was regretting letting Lizzie take her seat. Lizzie’s eyes widened, darting between Tommy and Lucy at the subtle revelation that he’d told her everything she’d said to him during their conversation when Lucy was taken. “And I don’t know about the rest of you,” she shifted uncomfortably, “but I’ve had enough of this war.”

Lizzie’s gaze dropped down to her lap.

“We need to get going. There’s still things we need to do,” Tommy stood and grabbed his coat. “We’ll talk once this is all over, all right?” he told Lizzie in an attempt to placate her. She nodded, actually looking agreeable to the suggestion. Lucy picked up the folder of papers, moving to follow Tommy and Polly out, when Lizzie delicately touched her arm, triggering her to pause.

“Lucy, I’m…” she worried at her bottom lip, then sighed. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Lucy blinked. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not. I know we’ve…I’ve had my problems with you, but I would never have wished what happened onto you.”

Lucy stared at her, wetting her lips, surprised at the genuinely in Lizzie’s voice. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Jerking her head towards the door, she beckoned her to follow them out. “Come on.”

Lizzie gathered up her coat and trailed her to the door. “I didn’t mean to make such a fuss–”

“It’s fine,” Lucy lit a cigarette, pushing the door open to step out onto the street, moving to stand at Tommy’s side. Lizzie looked at them nervously, it not lost on Lucy how her eyes lingered on Tommy’s hand when it rested lightly on her shoulder. There seemed to be a battle going on inside her, the desire to lash out and rage at them for the gesture of affection, versus the need to keep the peace.

Lucy had to wonder if her current injuries had been what had earned her at least somewhat of a reprieve from both Polly and Lizzie’s hatred. That, and Tommy’s increased protectiveness. If either of them tried anything with him present right now, there was a strong possibility that he would rip their heads off.

“You want a ride?” Polly offered to Lizzie, who nodded somewhat sheepishly, giving one last indication of goodbye to Lucy and Tommy before following Polly to her car.

“Sorry about that,” Tommy huffed. Lucy shook her head.

“It’s fine. You really should go visit her…”

A quiet groan left his lips, thumb rubbing at his eyes while his features scrunched as if in pain. “I know.” It sounded like it was the last thing on earth he’d like to do. Lucy squeezed his arm.

“It actually is a nice house.”

“Fucking grand.”

“Tommy.”

Another groan. “We can go over there together sometime after this is done.”

“Maybe it would be better if you went on your own…”

He shot her a sharp look, behind which she swore she saw a stab of panic. “Absolutely not.”

“Tommy…I know you’re gonna have to spend time with her. It’s fine. I can be an adult about it.”

“Your behavior isn’t what I’m worried about. Besides,” he watched Polly and Lizzie’s car pull away from the curb and drove away with a little honk of the horn in farewell to them, “she’s already delusional enough about what may or may not happen between me and her. You really think me spending time alone with her is gonna help that?”

Lucy looked down at her shoes. “I just feel bad…”

“Which is why we can go together. Hey,” he took her by both shoulders, waiting until she was looking up into his eyes before speaking again. “Her feelings aren’t your responsibility.”

“Feels like they are when I’m the cause of her misery.”

“You are no such thing. If anyone is, it’s me, not you.” He brushed his knuckles against her chin. “Even if you weren’t here, it would not change things between me and Lizzie. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for. You’re not keeping me from her. I promise.” His forehead bumped into hers. “I don’t love her. I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you. Ey?”

A lump formed in her throat, nodding. His words helped, but only a little. It would only take a few days or so, and her insecurities would return as they always did. There was no escaping them.

“Come on,” he kissed her, and took hold of her hand. “We’ve got more important things to worry about than Lizzie right now.”

She let him guide her down the sidewalk, still holding onto him, despite the whispers of the guilt and self doubt that Lizzie’s pregnancy had awakened. Murmurs that told her over and over to let go and walk away.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Quick or slow?”

She stared over at the huge barrels that lined the wall of Tommy’s gin distillery, turning the question over in her mind, feeling Tommy’s eyes on her as he waited patiently for her response.

“I don’t suppose I could ask for a bit of both.”

His head tilted curiously. “How do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to him being roughened up a bit before we put a bullet in his face. But…” she sighed, head tilting up towards the rafters. She could no longer hear the flutter of starlings’ wings. “I just want him gone.” Maybe then, I’ll finally be able to sleep at night. It had worked, if only partially, with Matthew. No, it had not been enough to stop the nightmares, or the aching from her scars. But the peace of mind that it had brought her, knowing that he could no longer return to hurt her or anyone else ever again, could not be understated. “Quick,” she decided. “I want it to be quick.” It had been enough for her when they killed Vincente Changretta with a single speedy bullet to the head. It would be enough for her now with his son.

“Okay.”

She leaned into him, head nestling under his collarbone. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

He stroked her back tenderly, kissing the crown of her head. “You don’t need to be here. You don’t have to see him again.”

“I want to be there,” she argued back. “Please, Tommy. I promise I’m not going to kill him prematurely, or anything like that. I just…” want him to know that he didn’t break me completely, she finished silently, looking down, lip caught between her teeth. When she raised her face back to Tommy, her gaze was pleading. “I have to see this.”

He searched her eyes for a very long moment. “I won’t let him touch you,” he promised, finally. “And if things get ugly, if there’s any sort of struggle or anything like that, I need you to swear you will stay out of it. I can’t have you getting hurt.”

She knew her agreement to that condition was the only way he’d allow her to be in the same room with Luca, so she conceded. Though not without a small grumble.

And so she stood there, with Tommy, Polly, and Finn, as Luca’s men filed into the room.

Her hands squeezed tightly around each other at the sight of Luca’s tall, imposing figure stepping forward. He grinned, that same damned smile he’d flashed her way dozens of times while carving into her flesh. It took all her willpower not to shrink down behind Tommy, her heart suddenly thundering in her ears, all instincts screaming at her to get as far away as possible from the man in front of them.

“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?”

The deep, barely healed lashes he’d created in the skin of her back ached with memory.

“Let’s get this over with,” Tommy said through gritted teeth, drawing Luca’s attention back to him. Luca strode forward, until he was close enough for Lucy to gag on the familiar scent of his cologne. He and Tommy stared each other down, and then Luca snapped his fingers, one of his men coming forward with a briefcase.

What happened next was as expected: Luca monologued for a little while. At his order that they all be searched, slight panic washed over Lucy that he would try to touch her. But when he made a move towards her, Tommy shifted himself in between them with a growl. Luca’s eyes danced with mirth at the reaction, but he seemed to know not to push it, gesturing with a gloved hand for one of his men to come over and pat her down instead.

“Careful of her bandages,” he said, a leering smile still aimed at her. “Wouldn’t want to rip open any stitches.”

Lucy glowered at him, hate shooting white-hot through her veins. That just seemed to amuse him more, before he turned his attention to Polly.

The Italian man peeked into her coat and patted at her pockets. She flinched at his hands pressing into her bruised ribs, but he followed his orders, being careful not to jostle her too much. He pulled from her boot her hunting knife, her gun from its holster in her jacket, and an empty burlap sack from her coat pocket. Luca chuckled, taking the items, examining them and then setting them on the table.

“I’d expect nothing less.” He said to her, his tone carrying underneath its faux fondness an edge of something far darker. “What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other. Her lack of answer only seemed to delight him more. “What say you that later we…” his eyes swept up and down her body leeringly, “pick back up where we left earlier, hm? Lucy?”

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat, nails digging into her skin where her hands were still clasped together, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

“Luca,” Tommy’s voice rasped, tone dangerously low. “You’re here to deal with me. Not her.”

Luca’s gaze lingered on her for a moment more, then shifted back to Tommy. “Yes…” he murmured, a soft hiss drawing out the last letter. Those snake-like orbs gleamed as Tommy shifted a little closer to her, placing himself half between them. Luca raised a pen to Tommy, indicating the papers he’d scattered across the table. “So…sign.”

When Tommy didn’t immediately start signing the papers laid out before him, Luca had a little hissy fit, the display of which managed to cause Lucy a brief spark of amusement. This was all theater, after all. And Luca was about to be in for a very nasty surprise. The calmness in Tommy’s voice as he spoke helped too, reminding her that they were the ones in control of the situation–and all the men in the room.

Seeing the glee slowly drain from Luca’s eyes while Tommy and Polly revealed to him what exactly they’d been busy doing since the events of the boxing match, was perhaps one of the most satisfying things Lucy had ever experienced. She could feel the beginnings of a smile twitching at her lips, and was aware that there was a sadistic sort of light beginning to dance in her eyes.

It was not nearly enough for what he’d done to her, but it was still satisfying as all hell to observe.

Luca made a move to grab his gun from his coat, and Tommy lashed out at him with a metal pipe on the floor, striking it out of his hand. Lucy’s muscles tensed–an action that really fucking hurt–with the reflex to jump in and help him as the pair began to struggle. She took half a step forward, only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.

“Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Tommy sent Luca crashing into a dozen or so gin bottles lined up on a table. “He’s fine.”

A tiny, distressed noise left Lucy’s throat, but she did as she was told. She’d promised, after all.

Tommy didn’t need her help, anyway. He was bringing Luca’s head down over and over again savagely against the table, steadily transforming his features into a bloody pulp. As he continued to beat Luca within an inch of his life, the side door opened, and Arthur stepped in with his gun already at the ready.

At the sound of his footsteps, Tommy’s head turned in his brother’s direction, raising Luca up, he presented him to his older brother, and the bullet fired from Arthur’s gun made a quick home in Luca Changretta’s bloodied face.

It blew straight through his head, out the back of his skull and ripping a hole into one of the gin barrels behind him, a steady stream of clear alcohol starting to rain down onto the floor, permeating the room with the scent of booze and juniper.

Lucy did not hear any of the orders Tommy rattled off to the remainder of Luca’s men, nor the warning Arthur left them with. Her eyes remained fixed solely on Luca’s dead body. There was a rush of both cold and warmth going through her. Relief, that he was dead. Regret, because she did not get to be the one that made him that way.

He may be dead, but he would be with her forever. Always in her head, laughing as he whipped her and ripped at her flesh. The thought chilled her to her core, her breaths turning shaky.

“Luce–” Tommy tried to reach out for her, but she shook his touch away, staggering forward and grabbing her sack and hunting knife that Luca had set on one of the tables. Pushing past him, she kneeled by Luca’s corpse. The hunting knife twirled once in her hands, and then she set to work with it. Behind her, she heard Polly let out a soft gasp, turning away as Lucy started to prepare the very final phase of their plan to end the vendetta once and for all.

∗ ∗ ∗

Audrey Changretta held an expression of iron across her face.

Even wandering through her own home, alone, putting the kettle on and bustling about to make herself a cup of tea, the look remained, held firmly by the muscles of her cheeks and jaw.

It was the look that had emblazoned itself upon her face as she lay there on the ground, after Arthur and John took her Vincenzo away and left her laying there sobbing. Slowly, the tears had turned to quiet sniffles. Then, to silence. And her look of grief and sorrow had transformed, until nothing but unyielding steel remained in its wake.

The fools should have killed her when they had the chance.

She had grabbed onto the hate that had burned within her with both hands, not caring when it scorched her skin or withered away the gentle heart she’d once had. Even towards the troublesome little boys who had sat in her class.

But they were no more those innocent, sweet little children than she was the kindhearted teacher she had once been. Her heart had died with Vincenzo. And much as Luca or his men may have liked to think otherwise, she was the real head of the family in his absence. And to be that, she had to be steel. There was no room for gentleness or compassion. She would stamp out each and every one of them. Not just the ones who carried the name Shelby. But any close to them. The old man who owned the scrapyard they so often liked to gather at. The gypsies who’d dared to join up with them. The whore who’d gotten herself knocked up with Thomas Shelby’s bastard. Not even John’s widow would be spared. It would take time to find her, of that Audrey had no doubt. But they would.

Then there was the matter of the little Red Demon, of course. She would be back in Luca’s grasp before too long, if she was not already. Then they could finish what they’d started with her.

So foolish that he’d let her escape at all. But she supposed that it didn’t matter now. They had her, same as the rest of them. And by the time the sun rose, they’d all be dead.

Finishing preparing her tea, she cradled the delicate China teacup in her hands, and turned to go sit in the chair at her kitchen table next to the window.

The seat was already taken.

A harsh intake of breath rushed painfully into her lungs, hands tightening around the teacup in surprise. But despite being caught off guard, the look of iron across her face never waved, not even for a second.

Her and the figure folded lazily into the chair just looked at each other for a long moment. Audrey’s eyes darted to the exit, considering if it would do better to try to make a run for it or to shout for the guards that Luca had posted outside.

“Don’t bother,” Lucy Winters said. Even with the lights off and nothing but the silvery light of the moon peeking in through the window to illuminate her, Audrey could make out her distinctive, foxy features. The deep red hair, the shimmering green eyes, the freckles and slanting cheekbones. Despite half her face still a faded purple from the bruises Luca had gifted her, she managed to embody an untouchable, subtly unnerving beauty. Like a poisonous plant or a feral fox. Lovely to look at, but lethal.

“How did you get in?” Audrey demanded.

“I’m a very talented person. Please, sit.”

Audrey eyed the seat that Winters kicked out for her warily, not moving. “The terms for peace have already been set. The meeting with Luca and Thomas has already taken place,” her eyes narrowed to slits as she leaned forward slightly. “So just what do you think you are doing here, girl?”

“Mr. Shelby had something that he wanted me to deliver to you in person,” she gestured to a bag on the table. Audrey huffed out a rather over exaggerated sigh.

“I have no interest in gifts.”

Winters smiled, and it was a truly terrible thing to behold. Her green eyes glittered madly, red hair framing her face like a fiery halo.

Horns would be more fitting, Audrey thought bitterly to herself.

“I think you will with this one,” she shifted in her seat, and Audrey noticed the gingerness in her movements. The girl was still badly hurt. A flutter of pride flapped in her chest towards her son. Even if he was an idiot for not outright killing her when he had the chance. “I wanted to be the one to come see you,” Winters said, stretching out, sprawling in her chair. “You see, you and I should have met a long time ago. If only Tommy had sent me to take care of you and your husband instead of his idiot brothers, you’d have never made it out of Liverpool. We could have avoided this whole mess.”

“Luca still would have come after you to avenge us.”

“Maybe,” Winters agreed. “But he wouldn’t have had such deep insights into our organization, now would he? That was all from you.” A sneer curled her features. “Ungrateful cunt. John let you live, and you repaid him with a rain of bullets on his own fucking doorstep.”

“You dare talk to me like that? You’re an adulteress slut who’s only gotten as far as you have because Tommy Shelby likes to stuff his cock in you. You have no room to pass judgment on anyone after the things you’ve done. I ought to order the torture Luca had planned for you finished. It would be justice for all the pain you’ve caused.”

The Red Demon smiled, slow and easy, not at all perturbed by Audrey’s words. “Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table.

Luca’s head, bloodied and beaten, hit the wood with a dull, wet thud. His green eyes were open, wide and staring lifelessly at her. The stump where his head had been severed from his neck oozed.

Audrey’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The teacup tumbled from her hands to shatter on the floor. The room swayed, her hands flying out to try to brace herself on the counter. Her boy. Her sweet boy. He’d just been with her that morning, grinning and overjoyed as they celebrated their victory against the infernal Peaky Blinders. They had biscuits and drank tea. Any moment from now he was supposed to walk through her front door, and tell her how his final meeting with Thomas Shelby had gone.

They’d won. They’d fucking won. The vendetta was over. How…?

A low, wailing moan started to emit from her throat, collapsing to her knees, eyes unable to pull away from Luca’s lifeless face.

No, no, my boys, they’re all gone. They’re all dead, my whole family…

She was not at all aware of Winters striding around her, nor of the cold press of a blade against her throat. Not until it sliced across her skin, and her blood flowed out of her to splatter across the kitchen tiles. When she fell lifeless to the floor, her expression was twisted into one of despair and grief, chillingly similar to the same one that had crossed her features as they ripped Vincenzo away from her, and she sobbed alone into the dirt.

Not an inch of iron to be seen.

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #my ocs #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #love me where i'm most ruined #my fanfiction #lily writes

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doodlingcrayon · 3 months ago

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Day 07 - Knightly Armor

Never fear! Lady Aurelia Fine, Knight of Cineyr, is here to protect you! 👁️💗

#Aurelia #dnd #OCs #outfitaugust24 #outfit august 2024 #doodles #knight #paladin #i fought with this sketch so badly WAUGHHH #but chat was there to encourage me...... thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

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crescendof1 · 1 month ago

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mini-skirt and my gogo boots (i just want you to make a move) - crescendo_writes - Formula 1 RPF [Archive of Our Own]

This atmosphere makes George want to cling to Max, to not let go. He wants to know where they stand. It’d be nice if he could just hold Max without having to worry about the implications of it. He’s scared, Max is scared, they’d both be better off if they could hold each other’s hands. That’s half the appeal of these ‘haunted’ attractions anyway, they offer an excuse for people to touch and comfort one another— and George would really like it if he and Max could be those people.

OR: Alex drags the whole apartment to a haunted corn maze for some good old fashioned roommate bonding. Max and George get separated, get scared, and figure things out along the way

#gax #aka the fic where i make the twitch quartet + max dress up as the scooby gang #f1 rpf fic #my writing #thank you thank you thank you to angel for encouraging me to finish this and chatting with me about george in gogo boots

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cboffshore · 1 month ago

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< be me

< open AO3 Ninjago archive for a nice lil saunter

< see a Skybound related blurb that looks promising (about Nya's experience being possessed)

< look closer

< written by Chat GPT

#chat I don't want to encourage bullying but I implore you to help me beat the darn thing with squeaky hammers #lila speaks #jail for that user jail for one thousand years WHY WOULD I BOTHER READING SOMETHING YOU COULDN'T BE ASSED TO WRITE??????#hot take from me I'd rather see seven hundred Jay Angst Hand Hook Eye Gouge fics every day forever than an AI takeover thanks

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runefactorynonsense · 1 year ago

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Cozytober - Day 23 - Knitted Hat

It's just snow~

#Cozytober #Margot's RF Art #game and character tags are both going to be first because this picture comes with a NOVEL in the tags. You've been warned.#Rune Factory #RF #RF1 #Rune Factory Frontier #RF Frontier #RFF #Rune Factory Raguna #RF Raguna #Rune Factory Leona #RF Leona #oKAY so three separate things.#(1)- this concept was originally my weakest idea. I am officially out of prep sketches because this one had stumped me. But last night #I googled 'knitted hats' to look at patterns and I found an image of a dad+kid in hats that. Wait. Omg. CUTE. I just. HAD to use it #Immediate pivot from the idea I didn't like so much.#Which (2-) I was willing to do because a friend of mine in an art chat is doing a Goretober. We laughed at the difference in our art #theirs emotional and detailed and dark- mine glowing and shiny and comfy. They encouraged me to go even MORE nice and cozy.#So thank you my young Canadian friend for giving me the gumption to draw Leona again #who is a funny topic lately because #(3) Frank [my s.o.] and I have again been talking about 'protags and the peril their place in the story puts their families in'#he made a beautiful but painful narrative choice during his Starfield playthrough- (RIP cowboy husband)#we have shared games we always bring up in this convo- AND I am on my RF bullshit. Leona and/or Lief existing is such a beautiful mistake #[ it's me I'm making the narrative mistake ]#How high do you think the price is on their head(s)?? Ethelberd had to be offering a FORTUNE.#That kid better either not be an Earthmate and subsist on potential family-denying anonymity until the events of 4 (my idea for Lief)#or be strong enough in some combat aspect to survive until they can join dad on the run (my idea for mage!Leona)#and I forgot my earbuds at home today so I COULDN'T even vent all these tangents TO Frank today so I am a ball of SUPPRESSED FANDOM CHATTER #That Frank got to LAUGH AT OVER TEXT. Meanie. That is all. I officially broke how many tags it'll let me use. Wow.

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seekingjamaharon · 2 years ago

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Kirk/Spock Fic Recs

(These recommendations are not organized by rating, universe (AOS/TOS), or tags, so it is your responsibility to review before reading!)

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Veritas - theproblematique

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141066/chapters/2308617

This story is an utter DELIGHT to read, from start to finish. There are several AMAZING scenes that LIVE ABSOLUTELY RENT FREE IN MY MIND. If you’ve read it, you know which ones I’m talking about. If you haven’t read it… my ask box will be open for you to come scream at me about it later!

Through Blind Men’s Eyes - ladyblahblah

https://archiveofourown.org/works/329721/chapters/532085

It’s exactly like the summary says–”Pon farr–with a twist.” But what a twist it is!!! There were points in this story where I had to put my phone down and walk around my room before my brain fried itself. The pacing is perfect. The characterization is perfect. The angst is perfect. The sex is perfect. It hits exactly the right notes with me, personally, in every single line. This fic changed me as a person.

For gladness of you - kariye

https://archiveofourown.org/works/610649

I’ve never read anything quite like this before. It’s like you’re watching someone paint, where first there are the rough outlines of color, and as you watch the artist goes back and adds shadows and highlights and everything starts to take shape. Once it’s finished you can see each detail that makes up the whole. Just a beautiful, wonderful story.

Also, there are rocks.

The Bond - WhatIfImaMermaid

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593152/chapters/26056887

The premise of this story means that some of the usual tropes are reversed, and it’s just so sweet and earnest. I particularly like this version of AOS Jim and his relationship with the crew.

Spice - eimeo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/285483/chapters/455338

I know it’s more than a little ridiculous for me to recommend a story without having actually finished it, BUT: I started this story without realizing that it was essentially a retelling of The Motion Picture, which I have not seen, so I stopped reading about halfway through to give myself some time to catch up on my watch of the series. However, even with only a portion of this piece under my belt, I feel confident enough to say that it’s DEVASTATINGLY GOOD. The PINING. The LONGING. The YEARNING. Truly unparalleled.

The Marriage of True Minds - spicyshimmy

https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020522/chapters/2029865

When I first saw this story in my AO3 results, I looked at the word count and said, “Impossible.” But one day when I was feeling ambitious, I opened a new tab, and the rest is history. I am now essentially a Spicyshimmy stan, and recommend their entire body of work. This particular work takes you on a JOURNEY. Both Spock and Jim learn and grow together, and it’s not perfect, but I adore Spicyshimmy’s Spocks–absolutely ADORE THEM. There’s a certain scene in Chapter 39 that had me laughing out loud. Even now, I’ll re-read it for a little boost of serotonin.

#spirk fic recs #spirk #the premise #star trek tos #fanfic #shout out to 2063april5 for inspiring me to make the list in the first place #thank you for the encouragement and sorry this took five million years #if anyone ever wants to send a story my way please do so!#my messages and ask box are open #and I'd be glad to chat/scream with you

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princehendir · 1 year ago

Text

Event is masks required..... I honestly may cry.

#i was in ''we're so over'' for a second there but oh we are soooo back.#thank you for encouraging me to hang out with the communists chat

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canarydarity · 2 years ago

Note

Uh. Hi?

Obviously you have no obligation to do anything but uh-

if you did end up writing that pix one-shot

I know at least one person that would gobble it up.

(it's me, I'm that person)

Withering Away

(words: 1619) (link to previous Pix fic)

__________________________________

It was part of Pix’s job to have even an elementary understanding of decomposition, though it was never a topic he’d expected to come to know intimately. Or, well, he had, just not when he was still conscious for the experience.

This was not how it was supposed to happen. There was not meant to be an awareness of such things. A mercy, it was—it must be—to lose sentience before losing all the rest; physicality, corporeal form, tangibility. A mercy Pixlriffs was not afforded.

And was not afforded, and was not afforded, and was not afforded.

The first time—the only real time—he’d woken up gasping on the stone floor of the catacombs. Likely no time at all had passed since his, well, passing to when he awoke, but his mind felt decades older, his head weary from the encounter with death. It didn’t matter that he’d died indoors, huddled in one of the dark corners of Katherine's house, curled into a ball on the wooden planks—his body had felt itself be reclaimed, it had touched decay.

Time had both slowed and sped up around him; the party had moved on, his stuff pillaged or put aside for his return—when they’d at first expected that to happen—then unknowing. The crown chose another host, tea was drunk, and goodbyes were said as the partygoers left and returned to their own empires; and all the while, Pixlriffs remained on the floor, watching this happen at thrice the speed, like a film being fast-forwarded, finger holding the button to remain on the fastest possible setting. He could not speak, he could not move, he could not intervene. He could take only one, shallow, raggedy breath every few minutes, the air rattling around in his quickly emptying chest, the term death rattle never feeling quite so accurate.

All in all, the rest of the party must have been an hour or so long—but for Pix, it was mere minutes, and time did not stop there. He lay on the floor of a forgotten hallway and watched around him as time passed on; as folks and events came and went until suddenly the empire had fallen—or he assumed as such, because the rooms remained empty and dark and the sconces empty of torches and small weeds had begun to peek up through the floorboards before seemingly gaining their confidence and overtaking all.

And as the house sunk deeper into the ground, what must happen to all happened to Pixlriffs; the life in the dirt found him, and they reclaimed what was theirs. It seemed that the speed of time had only been saving him for this: this duty of his—of us all—to give back to the ground from whence we came. He had been outrunning it for so long that it did not waste any time when it finally caught up with him.

Roots of the surrounding plants reached like hands for his arms his legs wherever they could catch hold, and as they curled around him they tugged and tugged until his burial began. The worms and the bugs and the scavengers picked and picked at him until the leathery fleshy parts that let him resemble something human were gone, and the rest of him was left to seep into the ground and fertilize. To give back; life gives to life gives to life—it was just that the life that begins this cycle—the giver—was not supposed to still be alive when this occurs.

And that was only the first time.

Pix had awoken, as he’d said, on the floor of the catacombs, emptier than he’d felt in a while. Something vital had been taken from him, something living—something human. This ghostly presence was what was left. His skin was ashen and sunken and—at the wrong angle of the sun—transparent, and his insides were hollow, and his lungs didn’t seem to fill all the way when he went through the motions of breathing, but he was still here.

So he went back to work, because what else was he to do? He was still capable, he did not see a problem with continuing to run the museum.

The following times had been, weirder, for lack of a better way to describe it. Since he no longer seemed to be alive to begin with, not in possession of a physical body, he didn’t know how it was that he could decay. But the earth tried and tried and tried again to show him, to prove that it could be done.

There was nothing for them to take, he thought, there should be nothing left of him to decompose. But he did.

And he did.

The ground just worked harder from each time then on. It would tug at him and pull at him and bury him but each time it found nothing to eat, to consume, but it would not be deterred. It would grope and paw and beg and it would not give up until it found a piece of him that it could claim, digging deeper and deeper with each further exploration. It latched onto whatever it had found and it ripped it from him; he feared each time that there would be nothing left to be conquered, and he did not want to know what would happen then.

This time, this most recent occurrence, he came to on the ground in Chromia, his brain catching sight of the color around him and feeling overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer amount of sensory input. Being dead, he thought he was past inherently living experiences such as having to catch one's breath—he was constantly being proven wrong.

The sky was blue above him, almost clear besides a handful of clouds lounging about their day. It was a nice sight until it was no longer in his view; big eyes and blond hair leaning over him, a hat somehow even more aggressive and loud than the decoration around Chromia, which was saying something. Right, he had been helping Oli with his noteblocks.

“Oh, my liege!” the bard cried, dramatics high, ever playing up an act; like he’d heard the phrase all the worlds a stage once and decided to take it far too seriously. Even so, he was as undeniably genuine in his emotion as he always was—it was a shame there was never actually an audience to watch his evergreen performance.

Oli’s hands gripped his shirt, pulling him up with more strength than Pix expected him to have, but he forgot his shock when the position change made his head ache harder.

“Not the king anymore, Oli,” he corrected, eyes clenched tight and hand coming up to grab his head. He thought perhaps he’d just sit here with his eyes closed until it was dark and there was less to look at, yeah that sounded like a good plausible idea.

“You okay, king?” Oli asked, having backed off a step or two, though still crouching before Pix in his show of concern. “Not king as in the king as in ‘oh fair crown of jewels that’s killed you so!’ but as in ‘yes, king, slay!’ that kind of king.”

Pix wasn’t really sure measures of ‘okay’ applied to him anymore since his status had changed to non-living. Surely the relative measure of well-being was different for those who were dead.

“Yes, Oli,” He said, rather than explaining this. He wasn’t really feeling willing to elaborate at the moment.

Oli laughed awkwardly. “You sure? You’re looking a little green there. And, by green, I mean completely see-through to the point where I can see the grass beneath you.”

Pix looked down, and, sure enough, his legs were looking less than tangible. “Right,” he said in response like he had any sort of reasonable explanation to offer for this phenomenon, falling back into his role as an educator out of need for some form of consistency, but there was nothing more that he could say. Oli awkwardly laughed again when there was no follow-through, the fear behind it permeating the air.

Pix made to stand, and Oli grabbed one of his arms to help him up, the gesture appreciated well enough.

“So, does that happen often, or? I’m sorry, is that rude to ask? I’ve never met a dead person before.”

“Often enough,” Pix said, picking up his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder. They were technically not done setting up the noteblocks, but he didn’t think Oli would protest his needing to leave. “And I’m unsure, I’ve never been dead before, myself.”

Oli blinked at him a few times until Pix smiled, giving him permission to smile in return.

“Don’t worry about me, Oli. I’ll figure it out in no time and be right as rain I’m sure.” He lifted a hand to bid Oli goodbye and turned away. He needed to get back to the capital.

The bard called behind him, “Of course, king, of course! Good as new—brand new, in fact!” and then he must have turned back around himself because the noteblocks started up again, the sound carrying softly in the breeze, still slightly off-beat from the song attempting to be replicated.

Right, good as new, Pix thought, despite the fact that in all of the human history he had studied, there didn’t seem to be a cure for having died. But there was certainly something here, something he’d never come across before. Maybe it wasn’t curable, but it was fascinating—and he’d just become his own primary source, no better subject to analyze than himself. He was going to get to the bottom of this.

It seemed he wasn’t quite as undead as he’d thought.

#me and you anon🤝🤝🤝🤝#the sole audience for pixlriffs fanfic apparently #and godbless for that thank you for having my back and encouraging this #pls #message me anytime to chat about pixlriffs i am far too obsessed with him #anyway yeah as i fucking said. this man was insANE for making a comment about reenacting his death and ill never forgive him for doing that #worm writes #pixlriffs #pixlriffs fic #empires smp #empires smp fanfic #empires smp fic #empires s2 #empires season 2

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