#>> VERSE ( peaky blinders. )

[novashelby]

Evie: The Origin Story-Chapter Two

Paring: Tommy & OC(Evelyn)-Father/daughter bond Word Count: 3,144 Warning: This story deals with child abuse, trauma, and dark themes. Please be cautioned before reading it Story Summary: War tainted, Tommy Shelby was slowly losing hope until he found it in the form of a young girl. Evelyn Walsh, just 8 years old, knew far too much about the cruel world they lived in. All she wanted was to be a child and all Tommy Shelby wanted was something to love, care for, and allow him to feel human once again. This is the origin story of Evelyn Rose Shelby, the adopted daughter of Tommy Shelby. Chapter Summary: Tommy walks Evie home and comes across the wicked witch herself, Cindy.

Links: Ao3 Wattpad As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you so much and please enjoy. Tag list: (If you want to be added or removed, please DM me. @evita-shelby @wonderlanddreamer @zablife @brummiereader @peakyswritings @rei-is-still-here @vivianleighwishesshewasme @littlemiss-arabella @cillianmurphysdimples @lavender-haze-01 @futurefamousdeadmusician @missmomof3 @copinghex

Offering to walk the girl home was questionable. The weather was temperamental, predictably, of course. Tommy sighed, pushing his gloved hands deep in his pockets, turning to the young girl. She had a poor excuse for a coat in the winter air and her feet were bare. Too close to the wet ground. He did his very best to keep at  her pace. For every step he took, she took double to keep up with him. “C’mon,” he said, not unkindly, but to hurry it up slightly. But when his eyes glanced down at her, he noticed her face red and nose wet. Sighing, he paused, kneeling to her level. His gloved hands grabbed her face, attempting affection, but from the girl’s sudden wince, he cursed himself for being so rough.  He loosened his grip, sighing, “where are your shoes?” She puffed out her cheeks, diverting her eyes off to the side, staring off in the distance. Tommy tapped her cheek. “Eh!? I asked, where are your shoes, eh? Your shoes! The things you wear on ya’ feet, hm?”

The raise of his voice startled her enough that she took a few steps back, whimpering. The man she’d felt so safe with suddenly held up to his reputation. Evie pushed his hands away and booked it up the dimly lit street. Tommy stayed kneeling for a moment, murmuring, “fookin’ ‘ell.” Standing, he beckoned her back. “Oi! C’mere, hm? Your feet! You can’t walk in the rain with no shoes-oi!” 

The girl turned, looking at him cautiously before folding her arms over her chest. “We’re friends, Mr. Shelby! But ya’ yellin’ at me! Friends don’t go yellin’ at friends-”

“Yelling?” he hollered back, baffled. He muttered, scratching the back of his head. “I wasn’t yelling.” Shaking it off, he let out a long sigh of frustration. “I’m sorry, alright? No more yelling, now come back here.”

“And you be a bit bossy, too!”

Tommy brows raised, “what?”  Under his breath, he said, “I’ll show you fookin’ bossy.” 

“Yeah, bossy. I dun like that very much.” He had to admit it, the girl sized him up better than most men his age. At that, he cracked a smile, chuckling to himself and rubbing his furrowed brow line. The little girl stood with a puffed chest and pouty lip. Tommy took gentle strides to her, outreaching his hand to gently hold her arm. 

Grabbing it without squeezing too hard, he directed her up the street. He promised not to yell anymore or be too bossy, which baffled him. He never considered himself at that moment bossy or yelling. “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked, not liking that she was walking the dirty Birmingham streets with no shoes. Knowing what was on the ground made him wince for her; piss, spit, city groot, and whatever else. Tommy waited for no answer and picked the girl up, allowing her to relax her sleepy head on his shoulder. Her arms and legs clung to him, and she snuggled so deep into his body that she felt this feeling of never wanting to let go. Smoke, rum, a woodsy aroma. That was his scent. Evie took in the hugest whiff to mark it forever in her memory just in case. Just in case that it’d be the last moment she’d ever see her friend, Thomas Shelby, again. 

Just as he turned up her road, Evie felt her eyes get heavy. He was too comfy not to fall asleep in, but he had to let her down so they could walk up to the flat. It was a run down building that most would find hardly livable. “Lead the way,” he said, nodding up the stairs and her tired little legs climbed up and up until they reached her flat. It was a tiny, worn down thing, and the lock on the door hardly worked. Tommy knocked. 

From the other side, there was cursing and grumbling. It sounded like a man and a woman fighting. Tommy pushed his ear up to the door, and narrowed his eyes to Evie, who just shrugged. “Mama don’t like when people interrupt her business.” 

“Yeah, well,” he sighed, pursing his lips, backing from the door. “Business has to be interrupted sometimes.” They were going at it; Cindy and the man. You said you got no fookin’ boyfriend-I don’t sleep with no fookin’ slag whores with fellas. Tommy quickly wrapped his arm around the girl’s head, blocking her ears and pressing her to his side. I don’t got no fucking man, I told you! Fucking get your hand off me-it’s the last time I’m paying for your fookin’ hollowed out cunt. Tommy cursed and pounded the door harder. “Oi!” he yelled, stress lines forming along his forehead and mouth,

From the other side, Cindy fought with her robe, naked underneath wearing only the grime and dirt from her work. And the man wrestled with his trousers and shirt, showing no decency in how he appeared. “Hold your fuckin’ ass, I’m comin’!” From across the hall, an elderly lady peeked out and Evie smiled. 

“She’s always yelling, that one! Has men in and out faster than a bank, I tell you!” Tommy turned and nodded, unsure of what to say. The elderly woman tightened her robe and pointed to Evie. “That one is always out all hours of the night! Causing a ruckus.”

Tommy looked down at Evie and smiled, mouthing, “a ruckus, eh?” His thumb caressed her cheek as he looked at her, his eyes twinkling with something rare for him; affection. The elderly woman hung around, waiting for the ruckus to continue, but Tommy suggested she go back inside. “You don’t want it to escalate.”  When the door opened, Tommy kept his cool composure, but on the inside he cursed. Had this little one been exposed to such grotesque indecency? 

Cindy stood there, leaning on the door frame with a cigarette between her fingers. Her face was strained. A very hollow looking woman, he had noticed. Far too thin and ragged with stress lines beyond her age. His eyes skimmed over her, her body exposed to him. It reeked of sex. Dirty, vile, filthy sex, and if his eyes weren’t mistaken, there were cum trails between her thighs. When he didn’t say anything, Cindy barked, “well? What the fuck do you want? One shilling for thirty minutes, two for the full hour-”

“She’ll fuck ya’ over, though!” the man yelled, grabbing his wallet from the table. Tommy peered around her, jaw tightening. The man hardly cared to button up his trousers and if one wanted to, they could see his cock outlined in his underwear. For fucks sake, he mumbled under his breath, finding himself pulling the girl closer to himself. Tommy pulled them out of the way so the man could get by.

Cindy cursed him, glaring as he rushed down the stairs. When they were through hearing his bickering echoing up the stairwell, she faced Tommy, smirking a tad, “though for a man like you, I can offer something special-come in.” She purred, grabbing his free arm. He flinched away.

“Are you missing something?” he asked, a strain in his voice, and Cindy paused. “Hm? And fix your fucking robe!” 

“Excuse me?” she snorted, tightening it so he no longer saw her body. Her eyes dropped down, and Tommy felt nauseous at the way her facial expression darkened. Her eyes narrowed in a seething, dark manner and her nostrils flared. With her claw-like hands, she dug her fingers in Evie’s shirt, peeling her off Tommy. He wanted to pull her back knowing that when he left, the poor girl would have nothing to protect her. She cried out, her chubby little hands clinging to his trousers.  “Evelyn Kathleen Walsh!” she yelled, kneeling and roughly gripping her jaw. Tommy winced, seeing her nails dig into the girl’s cheeks. “Where the fuck were you? Huh?” She shook Evelyn’s face. “I told you to stay in the fucking apartment! And look what you did? Caused issues-”

“She was no issue,” Tommy said, speaking up, resting his hand on Cindy’s. He pushed it down to ease up on Evie’s jaw. “Really. I found her lost around my stables and I brought her back.” Cindy calmed, standing, nodding for Evie to head in. She pouted, looking up at Mr. Shelby. 

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, not wanting to share him with her. She started to walk in the flat, and turned to look at him once more, offering a smile through pain. Tommy tilted his head to her, mouthing goodnight. Mouthing back, she said, “goodnight.” 

Cindy yelled over her shoulder, “wash up and get to fucking bed! I don’t want to hear that fucking bitch at your school about missing another day, you hear? Giving me goddamn shit because you can never do nothing fuckin’ right.” Her body leaned lazily on the frame, her legs folded as she enjoyed her cigarette. Ash flickered everywhere. “Fucking kids, you know?”

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes. “Right, kids.”

“You got any?” she asked, looking at him. “Children? I bet a fine man like you has a few. Married to some uppity house wife, stuck in some sexless marriage. Why else would you be hanging around here?” Tommy let her speak, keeping his blank expression firm. “Hm? I could fix that for you.” Her head nodded back. “She’ll knock out in a few minutes-won’t hear a thing.” He looked in the flat, counting two doors.

“Only one bedroom?” he said. 

“One bed-look, if you want a high priced whore, you don’t come around here-”

“I’m not looking for a whore,”  he said. “I came to return your child-”

“Evs can find her own way back,” she said. “She’s surprisingly good at directions. Can’t fucking get her to cook a damn thing or clean-”

“You should go tuck her in,” he interrupted, taking a step back and tilting his hat, not caring to bid her a proper farewell. In his line of work, foul men were plenty, but he never saw a bitch so disgraceful. Cindy watched him turn and walked down the stairs, nursing his own cigarette to shake off the nerves.

When the cool air hit him, he looked up. The little one was staring down at him, waving, wearing a large smile. He smiled back, trying to hide the pain and worry he felt. Taking off his hat, he waved it, winking. The little one felt so much love looking at him. Her smile was so big, her cheeks balled up like a chipmunk. But it dropped when she looked over her shoulder and quickly closed the window, drawing the curtains. “Fucking hell,” he whispered to himself. 

The next day, she took her drawing book to the canal, skipping off school. Stuffed in her pocket was some stale bread. Her little duck friends knew to join around her because she always had a thing or two for them. She sat, legs crossed. “Okay, one for you, Poe,” she said, letting the duck eat from her hand. “And one for you, and one for you.” Left in her hand was a small bit and she put it in her mouth. “And one for Evie.” She started to set up her ‘station’ of a notebook and some crayons. One of the ducks walked over it, and she whined, “Quakers! No! We have business to do.” 

She started to draw. Now, the little one was no artist. Her drawings weren’t going in a gallery, but she loved it anyway. She started with a girl wearing a school uniform, humming to herself. When she finished the hair, she said, “this is Evie!” Next, she drew three happy ducks. “Quakers, that is you!” She lifted the picture and squinted. “Hmmm!” She looked back at the duck and back at her painting. “I didn’t get your good angle…I’m sorry.” And that is Poe and this is Diddle because he has a brown spot on his mouth.

Right next to her, holding her hand, she drew a man with a flat cap hat, and above him she wrote Mr. Shellbee. And when she was done, she tucked away her supplies. “Okay, fellas, I have to go, but I’ll bring ya’ something tomorrow!” The ducks walked around here, occasionally plucking at the ground for anything they could find. Evie turned her jumper pockets inside out to brush out the crumbs before skipping off.

The Garrison wasn’t too far off, but by the time she got there, she was winded. It was the pub she saw him come out of the day prior. With no mind, she pushed open the doors and rushed in, looking around. It was hitting noon time, and only a few men lingered about. All perked and looked at the girl, and the man at the bar called to her, leaning over the counter with folded hands. “Oi! This isn’t no place for no little girls, yeah!” Evie looked over at him, frowning. “What do you want?” he asked, not unkindly, wiping his hands on his apron.

She hopped to the bar, and kneeled on the stool to see properly over the bar. “I’m looking for Mr. Shelby-”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Which one?” “There’s more?!” Blinking, she looked around before getting out her drawinging. Grunting as she flattened it out. Along the journey,  it had gotten a little crinkled. I should have kept it in my drawing book. “That one!” she pointed and the gentleman squinted, making a face. Before him was a stick figure wearing what he assumed to be a three piece suit, a flat cap, and a cigarette between his fingers. 

“Hmm, well, I don’t know,” he said, holding the picture up and looking around at the back. On a table, there was a man slouched, already too many drinks in. “Is it that one?”

Evie shook her head, giving him a look. “Nuh uh!” Motioning to the picture, she added, “does he look like he has a mustache?”

“I suppose not,” he replied, chuckling to himself. “You stay right there, hm? I’ll be right back.” The girl had a little spunk to her, he’d give her that. He put the picture down and went in the back. She heard some talking and through some double doors, Mr. Shelby came through and she slid off the chair.

“Mr. Shelby! Mr. Shelby!” she yelled, clinging the picture to the chest. Tommy kneeled, meeting the girl to eye level. “I made you this-”

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hands on her shoulders. Evie froze, her heart shrinking just a tad as she watched the lines in his face stress. He was giving her a hardened look and the pressure on her shoulders wasn’t so nice, either. She went small; quiet and her face dropped all signs of happiness. Tommy admitted to himself, seeing that girl pout like that, looking at him like she did that wretched woman, made him feel ill.

“I’m sorry,” she said, folding the picture and tucking away under her jumper. Tommy eased up, bowing his head slightly. 

“The pub isn’t safe for girls,” he said, relaxing his expression, his hand cradling her cheek. It was cold; rosy red and flushed. Her little nose dribbled, and he wasn’t sure if she was trying to sniff it back up or stop herself from crying. In his pocket was a clean handkerchief. Plucking it out, he dabbled around her nose before squeezing lightly. Helping a child blow the snot from her nose wasn’t on his list for the day, but there they were. “Blow, come on, blow it out!” Evie puffed out her cheeks and blew her nose while Tommy cleaned it up. Folding it up, he tucked it away.

“I drew you a picture,” she said, having a hard time looking at him. He smiled, leaning his face in, tilting it up to catch her eyes. His hands fell to her arms, rubbing circles with thumbs. She took it out and unfolded it. “I don’t like it. I forgot Mr. Shelby’s horse-”

Before she could hide it away, Tommy took it, holding it with a firm grip. It was a lovely picture, he thought. Really captured his personality with the cigarette and the stress winkles. He pointed to the ducks, “and those are your friends.”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning on him to look at the picture with him. “And me and you. And in the back is the beach and bridge.” Tommy snorted that the thought of the canal being considered a beach. 

“Well, it doesn’t need the horse,” he said, deciding as he tucked it away. “He doesn’t like his picture drawn anyway. Has too many bad angles.” As he stood, he groaned, stretching a bit before kindly placing his hand on her back, pushing her towards the door. “Now, Evelyn, you shouldn’t come in here, understand?” 

She pouted, stopping right before he could shove her out. Looking up at him with round eyes. “But we’re friends. How can I see you?” Tommy’s brows raised and hummed, thinking back to the previous night. He settled with, you can always run to the stables. Even when I’m not there, I’m always in the stables. Her mouth gaped and her eyes balled. Leaning in, she whispered, “Sister Stefana says ghost talk ain't so nice. You talkin’ the devil that way, Mr. Shelby.”

He pinched her chin, amused. “I think the Devil’s too scared to come to Birmingham.”

“Some people say you’re the Devil, but I don’t think the Devil kisses his horses like you do-”

“Well, to be the Devil, you have to be an angel. I don’t think I was ever one of those.”

Evie giggled and motioned for him to get real close, to put his ear to her mouth. She cupped her mouth and whispered, “do you also steal the loose jellies from the sweets shop?”

Exaggerating, Tommy widened his eyes and gave her a shocked look with a gasp. “Do you!?” Evie laughed and put her finger to her lips. With a pointed look, he said, “you better be careful, eh? Now, go on, hm? Be a good girl!” Opening the door, he watched as she ran off. This time in shoes, but they were ragged and torn. Probably she would have been just well off barefoot. Tommy kept his gaze on her until she was no longer in sight. “Ah, fucking hell,” he whispered, not cursing, but just as a release of emotions. He turned, scratching the back of his neck and when he looked up, John and Arthur were giving him quite a look of perplexity. He dropped the soft face and barked, “fuck off, eh? Believe it or not, I do have more ranges of emotions than a wall fly!”

[novashelby]

Evie: The Origin Story-Chapter One

Chapter Summary: Tommy didn't think twice about the girl with ragged clothes and broken shoes. Girls like Evie weren't a rarity in Birmingham. But what happens when little Evie breaks into the Shelby stable? Word Count: 3,675 Warning(s): Mention of abuse, mention of drugs(once), mention of alcoholism, poverty, neglect, prostitution. Links: ->Wattpad ->Ao3

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The little girl pounded pavement with her broken sole shoes. The rain from that morning soaked through to her lace trimmed white socks. Birmingham puddles were like any other city puddles; filled with grime and soot. They blackened her socks and made her feet all pruny. She looked behind her, and on her tail were three boys. They were the rascals that lived in the tennant housing across the street, but because they had dads that could afford hot water, Evie was below them. Under her arm was tucked her sacred little drawing book that held all her secrets in images. She tried to quicken her pace, feeling her lungs burn and her legs get wobbly. Without thinking, she darted between two buildings, but she found herself at a dead end. The boys’ laughter grew louder and their running slowed as they approached the dead alleyway.

Evie tried to tuck herself behind the trash, but they could easily spot her glancing over. Stinky Evie, stinky Evie. That’s what they’d call her. Every single day it was stinky Evie, stinky Evie. Nothing original, nothing she wasn’t already aware of. Her hair was never kept, her clothing was hardly washed between uses, and dirt always rested under her nails. None of the girls at school wanted to play with her and the nuns gave her blatant looks of disgust.

The bigger of the three boys stepped forward, a snide smirk on his face. Evie never understood their distaste for her. Their shoes had holes, too. Evie coward, clinging to her drawing book. “Stinky Evie,” he said, and the other two boys follow suit. She attempted to push further back, but the brick wall left no more room. All the poor girl could do was pray. They boys shared elbow nudges, silently agreeing on the next step when the boy said, “you look like a girl, but you stink like a pig.”

“Ugly like one, too,” the other boy said, spitting. It nearly landed on her and when she tried to wiggle away, whining and grunting, the front boy kicked her legs. 

The third boy laughed. “Uglier than one and your mum’s a filthy whore-”

“That gets paid shite to fuck pigs-”

“Leave me alone!” she yelled, kicking her feet. “Just leave me alone.” But poor Evelyn Walsh was smaller than all the other kids, especially the boys. They easily overpowered her, keeping her in place as they hovered over her. Her fingers clutching tightly against her drawing book that had already seen too much. “Give it back!” She tugged as hard as she could, the spine weakening anymore. In the rustle and tussle, pages tore and fell out, landing in muddy alley grime. “It’s mine, it’s mine!”

The larger boy yelled, “they ain’t nothing special. My arse can do better.” Her fingers slipped and the book was in their hands. She sobbed a bit, sniffling and choking. It was the last of it; all she had besides three broken pencils. Their dads could afford wooden train sets and balls, her mom could only afford what made her own brain sane; alcohol and the white stuff that left nasty residue on the dinner table. The boys sarcastically hummed, flipping through the pages that fell from the spine before running off with it yelling in unison, stinky Evie, stinky Evie. 

Evie watched as they disappeared. Her chin numbed a bit as she tried to fight back all the crying she wanted to do. Her drawing book. The only thing I have-had. She slowly stood from her spot as the sun started to leave, and a purple-orange haze took over. Her mother would start to wake up for her work and if Evie wasn’t home-well, it depended. Sometimes Cindy Walsh wouldn’t notice and other days she would. But in the rare case that she would, Evie hurriedly along, trying to sing herself out of sadness. And despite the water seeping to her feet, she danced in every puddle that said ‘hi’ on her way. It wasn’t a long walk, but it always felt long because everything was so in reach, but not obtainable. Like the warm places, the bakeries and restaurants that sold warm food. Or how she’d see pretty dresses in the window and Mary Jane shoes that didn’t have broken soles.

She paused at a boutique, pressing her hands against the window. It was closed for the evening, but just on the other side of the glass were shoes. As her feet shivered in her dirty socks, unshielded from her shoes, a nice, pretty new pair were right before her eyes. Evie never believed she could be like other girls. The girls that wore bows in their hair and had pretty coats. Or the white gloves that matched their mother’s. When she tucked her hands in her pockets, on the window glass rested two handprints. A memory of her wants and desires. She continued onward, trying her best to keep her nose down. The more she smelled the stench, the less she smelt the food. 

It was nearing six at night. Pubs were bustling and jazz clubs were starting to open, restaurants were welcoming people. The streets cleared of school children, and filled with those running home from work or chiming with glee as the nightlife took over. At home, all that was waiting for her was a piece of stale bread and porridge. 

She was in her own thoughts, weaving in and out of people who hardly noticed she was there. But above all the clatter, in the distance she heard laughter. She paused and saw the three boys. They were sharing a smoke that they probably bummed from the bins. In their hands was her drawing book. Her breath hitched, and quickly she scanned for cover. But just as she was about to dodge, the boy that led the pack spotted her. Evie cursed and ran, weaving in and out of crowds until they had met her on her side of the street.

“Where ya’ goin’, stinky Evie?” One hollered, and she wasn’t even sure who. Their voices all blended after a while. Stinky Evie, stinky Evie. Your mum’s a whore. 

She kept running, hearing their chants until they stopped and the footsteps stopped. Except her’s, they kept going until her body banged into something much sturdier. “Oof!” she yelped, falling to the ground. The three boys were behind her, but none of them said anything. Evie looked at what she bumped into and what she saw were a pair of legs. That of which she followed up until meeting the eyes of an older man in a neat three piece suit. Between his gloved fingers, he held a smoke up to his lips and inhaled. His expression was neutral and unassuming, but every one that walked by seemed to regard him. Evie crawled back a bit, cowering under his stare. They were outside a pub that glistened with drunk laughter and cheers. Mostly men. No, only men. There wasn’t a single female laugh in the mix. 

His eyes shifted to the boys and nodded, “you boys up to something, eh?” Evie turned to look at them. All three stiffened like soldiers in boot camp. They shared looks before mumbling a stream of no, sir. No, Mr. Shelby. Nu uh, Mr. Shelby. He nodded and looked back down at Evie. “What about you, eh? Behaving yourself?” He outreached his gloved hand and she met it, feeling him tug her to her feet. He looked over the girl in pity and back at the boys. 

In a small voice, Evie said, “can you get my drawing book? They took my drawing book.”

His eyes raised and he nodded to the boys, who then presumed guilty stances. Pointedly, he asked, “you boys steal this girl’s drawing book?” Evie was so shocked as to how much hold this man had over them. She watched as they swallowed, nearly pissing themselves. One nodded. “Give it back, eh? What fathers teach their sons to push around a little girl, huh?” The boys immediately handed it to her. The man tilted his chin. “Now fuck off, eh? Yer mums probably done with dinner about now.” 

When the boys left, Evie slowly looked up at the man, blinking before widening her smile. “Thank you, sir.” 

He nodded, tilting his hat. “Go on home, yeah? It’s getting late. You bastards shouldn’t be on the street at this time.” With that, he left her there with her drawing book. The next time those boys saw her, they ran off, wanting nothing to do with the girl that Mr. Shelby helped. 

Evie got home. As she always did, she opened the door slowly and peaked in first to scope out the situation. Then slipped in, closing the door for it’d make nothing more than a slight click. As she kicked off her shoes and shoes, a groan came from the bedroom. She paused to listen. Cindy had just woken up a few minutes prior. Evie went to the sink, filling her glass with water when her mother groaned out, “Evs?” Her eyes shot to the door. Immediately, she felt this utter dread. Her mother slipped from their one bed, and walked from their room. Yawning, groggily looking around and running her eyes, she said, “Evs?” She swung her house coat over her cotton slip. 

“Yes-”

“You know, you don’t have to fucking bang shit around when you want water,” she said, sighing. Evie yelped slightly as her mother pushed her off to the side as she got down a coffee cup. Her stomach cramped as she watched her mother slowly look at the moka pot. Irritated, she picked it up and flipped it over before tossing it back on the counter. It banged with a clang and Evie jumped back as he mother glared at her, “what the fuck, Evs, you could have made me a fucking cup of coffee.” She scratched irritatedly at her scalp, shaking her head. “I don’t ask you to anything for me, but I work my fucking ass off to support us and…fuck!” Her eyes drifted to the clock. 

Evie quickly scrambled to get the moka pot going and pulled out a chair for her mother. “I’m sorry, mama. After school I went to see if the ducks were in the canal. Of course they weren’t, but I wanted to see them because, Mama, they’re…they’re…they’re my friends. But they weren’t in the canal. Sister Esther says ducks don’t have friends, but I think they do. But anyway, then I started skipping puddles, but then these real mean boys found me and chased me. They stole my drawing book. But mama!” She turned to her mother with wide eyes. The woman had already resorted to sinking in the chair, rubbing her temples.

She rolled her eyes and looked at the girl. “Yeah?”

Evie laughed as she stood on the chair to grab something from the cabinet. “There was a real classy looking man and he got my drawing book back-”

“And was he rich?” she asked, almost sarcastically as she grabbed a cigarette and lit it. 

Evie thought for a moment, noting how her and her mother’s idea of rich were very different. Evie saw food and clothes as wealthy, and her mother? Saw luxuries that no one could take six feet under. Evie supposed by her standards, yes, he’d be rich. “I think so…a real handsome looker, too. Not like your boyfriends, mama.”

She let out a long sigh before slipping from the chair and closing herself back into the room. Cindy Walsh was born in Boston in  1895. It was a cold winter, and the running idea in the family was, the blizzard must have frozen her heart. Unlike her family, Cindy was always unpredictable and self-motivated. Evie looked at the closed door wondering what she did, but if only there was someone to tell Evie that she hadn’t done anything, but be a child who yearned for a mother who cared. 

She finished making her mother’s coffee when Cindy exited the room wearing a different set of night clothes with her hair pinned. Just as she grabbed the cup and placed her lips on the rim, the door called for her; a loud, rapid knock. As Cindy would call them, one of her boyfriends arrived. Normally she’d add a joke. Maybe this one will be rich and buy us shit.

Evie watched as a tall, but aging man walked in. They neither spoke or hugged like Evie would imagine boyfriend-girlfriends doing. Simply, Cindy held his hand and brought him to the bedroom. The man hardly noticed the young girl soaking her break in water to soften it. But Cindy looked at her and placed her fingers to her lips. “In here,” she told the man. “And please make yourself comfortable.” But he was familiar with her. Evie could tell by the way he walked. He knew their small flat. 

At the table, Evie tried to ignore the giggles and whispers of ‘mean nothings’, but pretending to be ‘sweet somethings’. She dipped her bread in the water and suckled at its crust, hoping for it to soften. But she got just a few bites in before the noises began. She hated the noises. They were awful noises and they were to happen all night. One boyfriend after the other. Evie frowned and slipped from her chair, grabbing her coat and slipping on her shoes, disregarding the sock. And even though it was dark, she slipped out the door and went for the streets. 

There was nowhere she could go. The library was closed and her empty pockets hardly permitted her entry to any place. Besides, who would want a stinky kid in their place of business? Evie walked along the lonely pavement, kicking street rubbish as she hummed. Everyone had someone, but Evie. She thought about a lot of things to prevent herself from crying. Usually the ducks that sometimes occupied the canal or the funny things Father Michael would say at school mass. She walked down a long dark road. The stench of manure and hay tickling her nose, causing her to sneeze. But off in the distance, there was a glimpse of something that made her smile. Stables. Stables? Had she walked that far? She looked behind her before deciding she didn't care. She ran until she was met with a lock and chain.

Frowning, she sighed, plopping herself on the crates before grinning. She stacked them on top of one another before she reached the gap between the roof and the wooden door. It’d hurt, but it felt warm. The horses on the inside looked over, making a slight fuss in their pods. There were two or so…Evie couldn’t count well. She whined as she wedged herself in and plop! “Ow!” She whined, meeting the ground. She laid there for a moment, groaning as her little body ached. Slowly, she gathered herself on her feet and looked around, eyes landing on a black horse. She grabbed a crate and stood on it, outreaching her hand to touch its nose. She nervously hesitated, but the horse huffed and nodded, leaning its head forward to meet her hand. Evie’s heart fluttered, and slowly, she smiled. The nose was cold, but everything felt warm. For the first time, something introduced her to unconditional affection. 

Evie laughed, looking around to get something to feed it. In a bucket of slop, there was a somewhat rotten carrot. She hopped from the crate and grabbed it. Her eyes scanned over it and she sighed, “you’re eating better than me, tonight.” She climbed back up and put it to his lips. The horse generously took a bite and Evie pulled it back. “I suppose we can share.” Evie took a bite of carrot. Of course, one would never suggest sharing food with a horse. Especially a carrot that’d been laying in a pocket of other food waste. It tasted repulsive, but she focused on the only bit of sweetness the carrot had left over. One bite for her, a big bite for him. All the while, her hand was stroking his cheek.

“You’re nicer than my school friends,” she whispered, touching her cheek to his and closing her eyes. “But I don’t think my school friends like me very much…only Quack, Diddle, and Poe. Those are the ducks that I am friends with. They like seeds and grapes. I don’t like raisins. I eat them sometimes…You know, I don’t think I could imagine you eating raisins with your big teeth.” Evie pulled back and eyed the horse, pinching its lip and pulling it up to look. The horse didn’t like that very much, scoffing. Saliva and snot sprayed against her face, and she whined. “Hey!” Evie wiped her face against her sleeve before giving the horse a look. “You’re lucky I can’t be picky with my friends….”

The lock on the stable clicked open. But Evie had been so distracted by the very large animal before her. She combed its mane, giving him nose kisses. The man walked in and paused, surprised to see a young girl there. He looked around, calculating how she could have gotten in. His eyes scanned over her, making note of her impoverished appearance. Slowly, he moved forward, watching her antics. Normally, he would have been angered, but what could a little girl do? Maybe a lot seeing as she slipped in the stable without even unlocking the door. He drew an inhale from  his smoke before reaching her. His eyes followed how sweetly her hand tended to his horse’s affection, and he smiled thinking of his youth. His first horse and how amazed he was by it. Just like her. His gloved hand met her’s and guided it. “Like this,” he said softly.

When Evie felt his hand touch her own, she jumped from the crate, feeling her heart pound against her chest. She moved back, swallowing. Her eyes drifted to the stable door and to him. It had been the man from earlier. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Come here,” he told her, softly. He ignored the panic in her voice, clearly startled from his sudden appearance. Perhaps she thought she’d get into trouble for trespassing. She nodded, hoping back on the crate, his gloved hand took hers. “Give me your hand.” He brought her small hand in his hand up to the horse’s nose, softly guiding her how to pet. “There you go,” he whispered, looking at her. She smiled in a dream and her hand went along with his. His direction turned back to the horse as he asked, “how did you manage to get in here?” There was no tone of annoyance or anger, just curiosity. When she had told him, he was equally impressed and worried. “You shouldn’t do that. You could have gotten hurt-”

“I didn’t,” she said with a shrug. 

He let out a sigh, tongue swiping at his bottom lip. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, but the girl looked so happy. He recognized that happiness. It was the type that only came with sadness. This was a moment for her. Something to overshadow what was in the background. In sacrifice of his own curiosity, he dropped it. “What is your name?”

Without looking at him, she replied, “Evelyn-”

“And your last?” Walsh. When she asked for his name, she already knew what the folk called him. It was Mr. Shelby. And when he said that, she looked over at him with a grin, shaking her head. She requested his real name. His brows arched and he smiled. “That is my real name.”

“No,” she laughed.

“No!? And what do you mean by real name, eh?”

“The name your mama calls you when she’s mad at you…I get Evelyn Walsh, you come here right now-and she stomps her feet like this….” He laughed at her and let out a sigh.

“Well, if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else, okay?” He leaned in real close, and put his gloved finger to his lips then to hers. She nodded and widened her eyes. “Thomas. But you have to call me Mr. Shelby-”

“Always?”

“Every single time,” he said, nodding to her before looking back at his horse. She asked the horse’s name. “What do you think it is?” And she shrugged. “Well, what would you name him?”

That is when her face went real bright. “Oh, jeez, well I dunno know, Mr. Shelby. I don’t know his personally! You see, I named Quacker at the canal Quacker because he makes the most fuss and Poe…he looks like how I imagine a guy named Poe would look-”

“Who?”

“The ducks,” she explained. “They’re my only friends.” Tommy hadn’t felt much since the war, but his smile slipped from his face and he swallowed, feeling something for the girl. His hand rested affectionately on her head, patting it. She noticed his frown and smiled, “but it’s okay. The ducks at least are kind to me. They’re good friends, Mr. Shelby. Like your horse. Can he be my friend, too?”

He let out a small laugh, and gave her a short nod. “Sure.”

“And you, Mr. Shelby, are you my friend?” “Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll be your friend. Now, it’s getting real late. Where are your parents? You should get home.” He already knew. Tommy knew too much about life to allow pieces to go unconnected. Evie got real quiet again and went back to the horse. Mama’s working with her boyfriends. He understood and asked for no more explanation. The poor girl was a mess. He studied everything from the ragged clothing, her matted hair, the dirt under her nails, and the smell. The poor girl smelled. Despite how mean the boys were, they were right. “I can’t leave you in here, love,” he said, regrettably. “I’ll walk you home and perhaps your mother can say goodbye to her boyfriends for just one night, eh?”

[novashelby]

The Painting-A Tommy and Evie Story

Tommy Shelby gets a rather interesting painting done of Evelyn, his most precious and loved daughter. Though, it seems he's the only one to fully appreciate it.

"Daddy's gone mad," Evie hollered, walking through the foyer of Arrow house. Her arms up in the air, seemingly talking to herself, not realizing her family were there, conversing. "He's gone bloody fuckin' mad!" They watched her walk through towards the kitchens before turning to one another.

Ada slowly peered in the direction of Tommy's office. "He is being quiet, isn't he?" Polly sighed, pushing by, her heels clicking against the tile floor. Ada waited hesitantly for a moment before following close behind.

Tommy sat in his leather holstered chair, leaned back, and swirling his whiskey neat. He'd been looking off, lovingly with adoration and admiration in his eyes. Polly pursed her lips and followed his gaze, expecting nothing, but it was something. Her mouth dropped, eyes mooned. Nailed to the wall was a little bit more than a 'wee portrait', but an obnoxious monstrosity almost worthy of being in the Louvre for its size alone.

Just above the fire placing was a mantel, already adorned with all things Evelyn. School pictures and trinkets. All he ever wanted was a painting because all beautiful, lovely things deserved to be expressed in art. Ada looked over her aunt's shoulder, her face skewing, appalled. Before either could comprehend or form a single thought, Tommy said, "she's the most beautiful girl."

Polly let out a dry, surprised laugh. "That's-it's -"

Ada finished her sentence, "a bit big and a bit - Thomas, why is Evie painted like that?" Never had the girl, or any girl they knew for that matter, dressed like that. A story book version of what the world thought of Romani girls. Adorned in gold, scarves, and clothing of vibrant colors. Surely, she looked beautiful. Ada wouldn't deny her that, but it was...questionable? Never mind just big. Very obnoxiously big. She wondered if it was, in a way, Tommy's idea of solidifying Evie in their family's culture. It was 'bad' enough that they weren't fully Romani, but a mix. Evie, however, was a complete outsider that many of their counterparts wouldn't touch with a fifty foot pole.

A princess, he called her, studying the painted gold necklaces. Turning to Ada and Polly, he tilted his glass towards the portrait. "No, a Queen. She'd be their fucking queen and what more would they have to say, hm?"

Polly let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Thomas!" Motioning towards the painting, she asked "why? How are you ever going to explain this? Beside, where the fuck would you fit Charlie and Ruby? Hm? Your two other children-" "That wasn't a possibility that crossed my mind, but I suppose when they start bringing absolute joy and happiness, they too will be painted-"

"Thomas Michael Shelby, don't you think this is a bit embarrassing for Evie?" Polly pressed.

Tommy hummed, polishing off his drink. "Well, it was either here or in my bedroom across my bed. I suppose I could move it-"

"I'm sure Lizzie would love that, yes, Tommy," Ada said.

And Tommy turned to Ada and asked, "why would Lizzie have any opinion?"

Before either could answer, Arthur walked in, mumbling greetings before his eyes caught the portrait. His eyes narrowed, darkening a little. Scratching the back of his head, he studied the features thinking back to his childhood. "Is that the witch Mum used to tell us about.... The pretty one that'd curse us and claw-"

"Arthur," Ada stopped him, placing her hand on his arm. "That's Evie."

Arthur immediately fixed himself, straightening his jacket and clearing his thoughts. "Oh? Oh. Well, um, that's...Tommy, do you still have the receipt?"

[call-sign-shark]

👮‍♂️ for Amos

Thanks Juli! I got one sent by @peakyswritings so here I'll focus on og!Amos.

"Which facet of me do you want to see?

The pianist?

The pilot?

Or the h u n t e r ?"

Read more of The Darkling / Amos in all AUs and settings — HERE

[novashelby]

The Revenge Tape-Modern!Michael Gray x Modern!Evelyn(OC) Excerpt/Sample

Pairing: Michael Gray x Evelyn Shelby Word Count: 466 Warnings: revenge porn, degradation, threatening, non-con, Very dark!Michael Summary: Michael is sick of Tommy making a fool of him, and therefore uses his biggest weakness; Evelyn.

I came up with this idea with a friend...what is Modern!Michael uses some awful revenge porn against Evie....Should I write the full one shot? :S

There was a point where Michael didn’t care whether Tommy put a bullet in him or not, as long as he knew he won in some way or another. And the only way to win was to stab him where it hurt, and where it hurt was in the form of a young lady. The single one thing Tommy cared about-Evelyn Rose Shelby. And what better way than to show the bastard that his rose indeed had thorns and was not innocent or beautiful as he thought. Sitting high on a pedestal, Michael wanted to knock her down.

And for fucks sake, she was easy…easy to sway her to do anything. There she rested, arched up over the hotel bed with him over her. His hand snaked around her neck, forcing her to look up while he shoved two fingers in. “Look ahead,” he whispered, wearing a tainted grin as he bit her earlobe. She gurgled lightly, his fingers pressing down on her tongue. She looked at them together in the mirror, but he shook his head, tilting her face to look over just a bit. On the hotel television stand rested a camera. When it registered, Evie panicked, doing her best to spit his fingers out. “No, no, no,” he said, wrestling her down. “I want you to fuckin’ look…. Go on, Evelyn, look in the camera…. Maybe you should smile, too, considering you just may be a star after today.” Her whole body went cold…how could she be so gullible to trust him? Her mind raced, thinking of all the things that they had done together over the hours. 

“Where are you sending it?” she asked, her voice hardly even a whisper. “Michael…don’t. I’m begging you…”

He laughed lightly. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t-”

“Michael…” Her voice wavered lightly in favor of a small sob of shame.

“Your friends, university advisors, internship advisors,” he continued, watching her get increasingly more disgusted with herself. Michael kissed a tear away. “Family…Uncle John…Uncle Arthur. Oh, and we can’t leave out your father. How do you think he’d feel his daughter calls other men daddy when their cocks are shoved balls deep in your cunt?”

Evie swallowed, averting her eyes from the camera, shielding her last inch of pride. “I’ve never done anything to you-”

“But isn’t that the fun part about being a Shelby? You get hurt just by association. But you know what, Evelyn, I’m willing to bargain.” Michael pointed to the camera. “I can either send it to everyone or you and I can pick one special person…and then after that, they get to choose what they do with it.” She was about to open her mouth when he added, “but I’ll add two more rules. No safe choices and it can’t be a woman.”

[askalfiesolomons]

Care to explain these photos?

"What explaination do you need?" Alfrie asked, polishing his half moon glasses. "I was youthful, I had just come out of the closet and I was horny as fuck."

[gromky]

I stopped loving my father a long time ago. What remained was the slavery to a pattern. ― Anaïs Nin

insp @normalbrothers gifset

Fiona Apple//Sullen Girl

[lilmissporky]

𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒔

𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒖𝒚𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒔 𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒚 𝒂𝒔 𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒇𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝒊 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒏 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔. 𝒊 𝒘𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒔𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐

𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒚

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓;

𝑴𝑪 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒉𝒂 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒇𝒇

★𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

★𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒓 [𝒕𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒗𝒓.]

★𝑫𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒐𝒓 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆

𝑨𝑹𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑬𝒌𝒌𝒐

★𝑨𝑼 𝑷𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒆𝒓

★𝑱𝒊𝒏𝒙

★𝑴𝒆𝒍 𝑴𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒂

𝑩𝑹𝑰𝑫𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑻𝑶𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒏 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐𝒏

★𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐𝒏

★𝑨𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒚 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐𝒏

★𝑬𝒍𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐𝒏

★𝑭𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒂 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒐𝒏

𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑹𝒀 𝑷𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓

★𝑹𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒅 𝑾𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚

★𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒍𝒇𝒐𝒚

★𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒕 𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

★𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒔 𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑹-𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑴𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒔

★𝑮𝒘𝒆𝒏 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒄𝒚

★𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓-𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑵𝒐𝒊𝒓

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑺𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑶𝑳 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝑮𝑶𝑶𝑫 𝑽𝑺 𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐

𝑬𝑼𝑷𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑨 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑭𝒆𝒛𝒄𝒐 𝑶'𝑵𝒆𝒊𝒍𝒍

𝑷𝑬𝑨𝑲𝒀 𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑺 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒃𝒚

𝑨𝑩𝑩𝑶𝑻𝑻 𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑹𝒀 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑮𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝑬𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆

★ 𝑱𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒔

★ 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒂 𝑺𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊

★𝑨𝒗𝒂 𝑪𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏

𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑷𝑷𝑬𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝑵𝒆𝒍𝒔𝒐𝒏

𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑶𝑪𝑲 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑺𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 𝑯𝒐𝒍𝒎𝒆𝒔 [𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕 𝑪𝒖𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒗𝒓.]

𝑱𝑼𝑱𝑼𝑻𝑺𝑼 𝑲𝑨𝑰𝑺𝑬𝑵 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐

★𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐

★𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒐 𝑲𝒂𝒎𝒐

★𝑵𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊 𝑲𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒐

★𝑺𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒏𝒂

𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒁𝒖𝒌𝒐

★𝑨𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒊 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐

★𝑳𝒊𝒏 𝑩𝒆𝒊𝒇𝒐𝒏𝒈

𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑱𝒐𝒆 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒈

𝑿𝑶, 𝑲𝑰𝑻𝑻𝒀 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑬

★𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝑳𝒆𝒆

★𝒀𝒖𝒓𝒊 𝑯𝒂𝒏

[call-sign-shark]

For the Peaky Blinders Fandom...

I just wanted to shoot a little message to the people following me for my Peaky Blinders content. Alongside my regular PB works, I will post a series dedicated to the Grisha Verse. The more observant of y'all might have already noticed that my blog's masterlist has a blank space dedicated to it for a while.

This post is to tell you this: Please, don't feel obliged to read it if you don't want to or if you're not into the Grisha verse. Also, it doesn't change anything to my blog's usual content (can you see how stressed am I at the idea of writing for more than one fandom?)

For those who might be interested, Heaven was created to be used in two fandoms (I guess I already talked to some moots about the Grisha verse when mentioning her) so it will be the MC.

Love,

Shark.

[whatcjdidnext]

”Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time

Slipping through my fingers..”

[divinekangaroo]

falling - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

PART ONE - DAY ONE

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9

PART TWO - MONTH ONE (Or Maybe Month Two, Or Three)

Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12 | ?

A Modern AU take on Tommy's immediate return from military service, and the period between his demobilisation and the start of S1.

(Tags shall be progressively updated)

.

Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Tommy Shelby/Freddie Thorne, Arthur Shelby, Polly Grey, Ada Shelby, John Shelby, John Shelby's Children, Zhang, S1E1 Red Dust Girl | Alternative Universe, Modern AU (ish), No iPhones (yet), Awkwardness, Age Difference, Disassociation, Miscommunication, Banter, Fast Food Vendor of your Choice, Pre-Season, Past Trauma, Flirting, Have I Met You Before, Heckling, Cars, Drug Use, Past Childhood Trauma, Mrs Shelby Lives, Gender Role Dynamics, Small Neighbourhoods, Greta Jurossi Haunting the Narrative, Brotherly Dynamics, Sibling Dynamics, Class Issues, Attraction, Casual Sex, Car Sex, Military Transition Program, Willful Medical Noncompliance, Melodrama, Illegal Bookmaking, 90s Fashion, 2000s Fashion, Slow Reveal, Slow Burn, Coming Home, Dysfunctional Family, Lasting Legacy of Catholicism, Bad SMS Etiquette, Gang Activity, Domesticity, Booty Call, Guilt, Shame, So Much Marijuana, Arms Dealing, Crimes & Criminals, Ill Informed Economic Theorising, Wanking, Ethnicity, Stereotyping

.

[whentommymetalfie]

Home to you -chapter 42

-Endings-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39/40/41

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: In the aftermath of Polly's visit, Alfie and Tommy make a decision.

Warnings: mental instability, hallucinations, suicidal ideation, past attempted suicide

Wordcount: 5,7 K

”Let him go, Tommy, let him cool off!”

Arthur grabs him from behind, tries to hold him back, keep him from going after Alfie. Tommy fights him, squirms and tugs at the arms. But Arthur is stronger, always been, even before Tommy became all skin and bone he’d struggle; now it’s like trying to push past a solid wall, nothing he does helps, and a desperate whine tear from his throat. 

“Tommy, Tommy, shh, calm down, he just needs to walk it off. Give him some space.” Arthur holds him by shoulders, wraps one of his long arms across his chest in a vice like grip and Tommy doesn’t like being touched like this, Arthur’s hurting him and he won’t- won’t listen

“Alfie!” he calls, but Alfie doesn’t come, because Alfie needs him this time, and he has to make Arthur understand. 

“I have to- let me go,” he begs and wriggles to get out of Arthur’s grip. 

“He’s not right in the head, at least not right now. He might- he could hurt you,” Arthur pleads, holding him tighter until he can barely breathe. Tommy hunches over and bites his arm. With a shout, Arthur releases him and he bolts, runs through the hallway and the corridor leading to the kitchen, but there, Arthur catches up and grabs his wrist. 

“No!” Tommy screams, a shrill and desperate cry that makes Arthur release his arm as if he’s burnt himself, and the sound shocks him into stillness for a moment. He stumbles backwards, catches himself against the table, Arthur blocks the way forward, stands there still with his hands outstretched. 

“Tommy, please listen to me-“

“No, no, Alfie- Alfie needs me,” he says, and it still feels strange, as if it’s not his own voice, not him talking. He looks over Arthur’s shoulder, towards the living room and the open glass doors. 

“Then I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you run off into the dark alone. Not again. Not to find someone who might potentially lose it.”

“Alfie would never hurt me.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Tommy says and stares straight into Arthur’s eyes. Arthur grits his teeth. Stares back. But then he sighs

“Fine. If you say so.” He lowers his hands, lets them hang along his sides, and Tommy takes the chance and runs. This time, Arthur doesn’t try to grab him. He calls Alfie’s name again, feels tears burning in his eyes, without Alfie here it feels like the ground has dropped beneath his feet. Through the living room and the open doors, he runs into the darkness, doesn’t even realize until he’s halfway across the lawn that it scares him, makes it feel as though his feet are sinking into the shadows, but it doesn’t matter, he needs to find Alfie.

When he reaches the outer edges of the garden and the low stone wall he first sees a foot, an outstretched leg and then all of him. Alfie is sat leaned against the wall, chest heaving in slow, breaths, jaw clenched. His gaze flickers briefly to Tommy. 

“Just need- need a second, love,” he says, voice thick, closes his eyes and presses the heels of his hands into them, gritting his teeth. For a second, Tommy hesitates. He does what Alfie tells him, always does, Alfie knows best, and perhaps he should leave him alone. But then Alfie’s shoulders quake with a strangled sob, and it’s all it takes for him to make up his mind. He sits down by his side and wraps his arm around his shoulders. Alfie leans into the touch, hugs him tightly and pulls him closer and up onto his lap, holds him so tightly that it squeezes the air from his lungs. But that doesn’t matter, because for once he knows he’s doing the right thing, that he’s helping. Alfie buries his face in the crook of his neck as he cries. 

It's frightening, hearing Alfie cry, he’s never cried before. And he holds onto Tommy like a man drowning. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between sobs, and what is he sorry for? Aunt Polly, maybe, but Tommy could never hold that against him. Alfie wanted to protect him. And when it truly mattered, he listened. Tommy runs his fingers through Alfie’s hair, relaxing into the embrace. Doesn’t have the right words to say, but it feels like it’s enough to just be there. Let Alfie hold onto him.  

Eventually the sobs ebb out. By then, his shirt front is wet with tears. Alfie pulls out of the hug slightly, and Tommy hesitates for a moment before wiping the tears away with his thumb and leaning into kiss his temple. Alfie rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes, breathing slowly now. But he still holds tightly onto Tommy, so he stays on his lap and lays his head on his shoulder. The night air is cold, but Alfie is warm, and the sky is full of stars. He hadn’t noticed before. 

Alfie wipes a hand over his face and looks towards the sky. 

“Remember- no, you probably don’t, but back home, we sat an entire night out on the steps because you couldn’t sleep. Liked to sit out there, didn’t you, watching the stars.” 

“I remember,” he whispers, teeth clattering together. Alfie looks at him, and smiles slightly. 

“Become right the chatterbox, haven’t you? Been quiet for so long now that I reckon you’ve got plenty of things to say.” 

At that, Tommy huffs, because at least with Alfie he understands when it’s one of his jokes. Alfie smiles wider. Alfie’s smile is like the sun. He rubs Tommy’s back. 

“Fuck, you’re freezing. Barefoot and all. And in just your nightshirt. Who gave you permission to walk around like that, hm?” 

Tommy looks pointedly at Alfie’s feet, which also are bare.

“Yeah, but I’ve got a layer of protection, see,” Alfie says and pats his belly. “Go on, let’s get inside. I’d carry you, but I think both my fucking legs are asleep by now.” 

Tommy gets up and offers a hand to Alfie, who takes it, but uses the wall for support to get up. He pulls Tommy against his side and they walk back towards the house together.  

“Fuck, something’s happened. I just know it. If he’s not back in one fucking minute, I’m going out looking.” 

Arthur is pacing the kitchen, where apparently half the household has gathered: a bleary-eyed Finn is sat by the table, Esther is making tea, looking as alert as if she’d been awake for hours and Lizzie is stood before Arthur with her arms crossed and a tense expression on her face. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Alfie says and Tommy huddles closer to him as several pairs of eyes focus on him. “Got him right here, safe and sound.” 

Arthur’s entire body seems to sag with relief. 

“You okay, Tommy?” Lizzie asks. “I heard what she- what happened. With Polly.” 

“Can’t fucking believe she’d do that,” Finn mutters. 

“Well, she’s clearly lost it,” Arthur says. “Raving about bloody voices and-“ he cuts himself off. Clears his throat. “Ada’s getting her home, at least.” 

“Do you want a cup of tea, mr. Solomons?” Esther asks and pours a cup for Finn at the table. “What about you, Tommy dear? Something to warm you up a little.” 

Feeling utterly lost for a moment, Tommy looks to Alfie for answers. Alfie gives him a look back, raises his brow in question. He squeezes his arm twice. 

“No, thank you, Esther, but I think we’ll just head off to bed,” Alfie says. “Been a bit of an ordeal, this.” 

“I heard that you’re talking again, Tommy?” Lizzie asks, and he nods. She smiles crookedly. “But not right now?” 

“He’s just tired,” Alfie says and rubs his back. “We’ll talk more in the morning, alright?” 

They get a chorus of goodnights in response, and Alfie takes him upstairs, to the bathroom where he helps him wash the grass off his feet with hot water. Helps get them warmer, too. Tommy sits on the stool next to the tub afterwards, eyes only half open as Alfie steps into the tub and does the same to his own feet. He rubs his eyes. They sting with weariness now when all the adrenaline is gone. Alfie smiles. 

“Let’s get to bed, hm, love?” 

Guided by Alfie, Tommy drops his damp shirt and underwear somewhere along the way to the bed and virtually collapses in a heap onto the mattress. Soon he’s tucked underneath all the blankets with Alfie wrapped around him in a protective hug, an arm around his back and a hand buried in his hair. 

“So, sweetheart, I’ve been thinking,” Alfie says, voice soft. “And, this is a mere suggestion, but I think it’s about time we went back home. Because between this fucking ordeal, your brother walking in on us this morning, and the all around chaos- Well, let’s just say, as much as I’ve come to fucking tolerate your family, I think I’ve just about had it with them for now. And I do think you’d benefit from some peace and quiet. So, what do you say?” 

Home. 

The word makes his heart flutter with something strange and foreign that he barely recognizes at first, but it elicits a strange sound between a laugh and a sob and he nods into Alfie’s chest. 

“Yeah? You want to go home?” 

“Yes,” he whispers and Alfie squeezes him tightly. Tommy lifts his head to look up at him through the darkness. “Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow evening,” Alfie says. Takes his chin in his hand and runs his thumb along his jaw. “Ishmael’s got the car in Birmingham. And knowing Esther, I think she’d like to have a few hours to get the house in order. But yeah, tomorrow. Though considering how many times I’ve failed to keep that fucking promise, I’m not saying anything until we’re in the bloody car.” 

Tommy lays his head back on Alfie’s chest and melts into his embrace as he begins stroking his back. 

“It’s not true, what she said, your aunt,” Alfie whispers suddenly. “Alright? I need you to know that.” 

“I’m tired,” Tommy says and closes his eyes to indicate he doesn’t want to broach that subject. If it were up to him, he’d wake up tomorrow and find that it’s all faded from his memory like a bad dream, the way Polly looked at him. Said things that so well mimicked what the voices always tell him, to the point she might as well have been one of them. He just wants to forget all of it. But it’s a naïve thought, of course. It’s carved into the deepest crevices of his mind. 

Alfie kisses the top of his head. 

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. Want me to read you something?” he asks, yawning, and Tommy tries to manage a reply. But before he’s figured out how to make one, he’s fallen into an exhausted sleep. And for once, it’s one without dreams. 

…

When he wakes up, he’s dazed and utterly lost, feeling disconnected from his own body. Thankfully it’s Alfie’s footsteps coming across the floor that wakes him, so he’s not alone. Tommy blinks and sees that his mouth is moving, but it takes a while before he can make sense of the words. Talking about the travel arrangements, Alfie is. At least he thinks so. Esther’s already left; insisted she wanted at least a few hours with the house to herself, to get things in order, wouldn’t take no for an answer, and so had taken the first available train. He’s been asleep for a long time. Past lunchtime. Alfie tells him all of this as he sets down a tray with his breakfast on the nightstand and Tommy’s a bit too dazed to quite make sense of all the logistics, but clings to the important bit: Ishmael will have the car ready no later than four this afternoon and then they can go home. 

After helping him into a clean flannel shirt, Alfie sits with him on the bed as Tommy does his best to eat his porridge, Alfie’s arm around his shoulders, his hand coming up ever so often to pet his hair. Once he’s eaten all he can manage, Tommy lays his head on his shoulder and closes his eyes. It’s so heavy, his head. As if the memories of last night have added physical weight to it. Each of Polly’s words, a ton each…

He's on the verge of nodding off again when there’s a knock on the door, and he opens his eyes to find his older brother stood on the threshold. 

“Heard you were going home today,” Arthur says. “So I figured- I just- could I have a word with you, Tom? Alone.” He gives Alfie a look. Alfie glares back, but when Tommy gently squeezes his arm, he presses a quick kiss onto his forehead and climbs off the bed, taking the tray along with him on his way to the door. Arthur steps aside to let him pass, but the two exchange yet another frosty look before Alfie closes the door behind him. 

Shoulders tense, Arthur slowly approaches the bed, hesitates for a second, and then sits down on the edge, somewhere around the middle. Close, but not too close. Tommy finds himself with his knees drawn to his chest, back against the headboard. He waits for Arthur to say something. The silence in the room grows thicker with every second until Arthur finally sighs. 

“I should’ve gone after you,” he says and stares at the floor. “That night. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for not doing that.” 

Tommy digs his nails into his palms. Icy dread fills him as the memories begin flicking before his eyes, even as he tries to push them to the back of his mind where they belong. 

“And I’m not asking you to forgive me. But I want you to know that I’m sorry, for all of it,” Arthur goes on. “I’m sorry that I didn’t come and see you, when you were just- afterwards. At Arrow House. Don’t have any explanations, other than I was just a fucking coward. Couldn’t face that what I did- that I didn’t see, didn’t want to fucking see. That I didn’t do something. And I’m sorry that I’ve done such a shitty job at taking care of you since you came back. Can’t seem to fucking get it right. And sorry that I’ve never been there when you needed me That I’ve been such a shitty big brother.”

Arthur stops talking. He’s kept his gaze at the floor until then, hands alternating between gripping his knees and laying clenched on his lap, but now he glances up at Tommy. Who doesn’t know what to say. He should say that it’s okay, he doesn’t deserve Arthur’s apologies, anyone’s apologies. 

But it’s true. Arthur let him go, left him alone when he needed him, didn’t come to find him- No one came

seconds that melted into endless minutes hours and days all at once as he lay there in the mud, bits of his brain leaking out into the soil, blood seeping in hot trails down his face until it too was swallowed by the earth, the pain pulling him under for only brief, blissful moments of nothing. 

All night, he knows now, all night he lay there and no one came

“Why should they have gone looking for you?” Grace whispers. “You know they were happy to be rid of you.” 

“It’s okay,” he says finally and Arthur slams his palm against the mattress with a deft sound that causes him to flinch. 

“It’s not, Tommy!” he says. “Fucks sake, you’ve got to have some self-respect left!” 

Arthur’s raised voice makes his heart race. Brings up memories of cowering against the wall as Arthur shouts at him, Tommy, snap out of it, of Arthur hitting him. Is always too rough whenever he grabs him, as if there’s hidden anger behind every touch and Tommy pushes himself against the headboard of the bed as if he could put himself out of reach as Arthur’s voice rises to a shout, “You could’ve died! Because I let you go in the first place, and because it’s a wonder you survived laying in that cold fucking field all night with a bloody hole in your head. Don’t ever fucking say that any of that was okay!”  

“Don’t shout at me,” Tommy pleads, barely managing more than a whisper, but Arthur snaps his mouth shut around his last word. 

“Sorry, fuck, you see?” he says, then. “I’m- I don’t mean to do that. Just keeps happening and I don’t know how to… bearound you.” He reaches for him and Tommy can’t stop himself from flinching, despite the desperate glow in Arthur’s eyes as he drops the hand to his lap. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, again. “And I get that you might not know- You don’t have to say anything about it, is what I mean. But none of it was fucking okay. And I should’ve said I was sorry a long time ago.”  

Arthur clears his throat and gets off the bed. 

“Well, I’ll let you… Yeah. I just needed you to know that,” he says without looking at him, and quickly makes his way to the door, closing it softly as he leaves the room. 

…

Tommy needs to say goodbye to Ruby and Charlie before they leave. He owes them as much, he knows, no one needs to tell him, but when Lizzie brings the matter to him, as he sits with Alfie in the kitchen waiting for the hours to pass and their car to arrive, the feeling is nothing short of sheer panic. 

“I’ve already talked to them, several times, they won’t ask too many questions,” Lizzie promises him, evidently seeing right through him. “They just want to say a quick goodbye. Finn promised to take them to the stables afterwards, so they’re already preoccupied by that idea.” 

Tommy nods, but he doesn’t know how he’s going to do this without completely falling apart. Alfie rubs his back. 

“You’re not letting them down, treacle,” he says as Lizzie disappears to fetch the kids. “It’s for the best, alright? We’ve been over this. For now, you’ve got to focus on just fucking recovering from all this.” 

Grace cocks her head ever so slightly, stood by the kitchen counter. “You know you’d only hurt them by staying. You’ve got nothing to offer anyone. You can’t take care of them. You can’t even take care of yourself.” 

“Stop,” Tommy whispers, it just slips out, even though he’s not supposed to talk to them. Alfie furrows his brow but as he opens his mouth, Charlie trots into the kitchen with Cyril next to him and Ruby in tow, hanging onto Cyril by one of the many folds around his neck. Lizzie stays in the doorway, supervising with her arms crossed over her chest, leaned against the doorframe. 

“Uncle Finn is taking us to the stables!” Charlie announces happily as he comes over to where Tommy’s sitting, virtually bouncing up and down before the chair. 

“That’s good,” Tommy manages.

“Yes, because there’s always lots to do in the stables, so it’s good that we can help,” Charlie says and Tommy nods in agreement. Both kids look expectantly at him but he doesn’t know what to say. How to say it. His insides are already in knots and now his throat closes up as it so often does when he can’t find the right words. Any words at all. He doesn’t even have to look to Alfie for help before he speaks up. 

“Your mum’s told you that your dad’s going away to rest, hasn’t she?” he says, and Charlie nods slowly, furrowing his brow. Ruby mirrors her brother’s expression. Tommy carefully slides off the chair onto his knees to get on Charlie’s eyelevel, and pets Cyril’s big head. The dog leans into the touch. 

“Mum says dad’s going to live with you,” Ruby says and squints up at Alfie. 

“Yeah, well, he needs someone to look after him, you see. Sometimes people need a bit of help if they’re going to get better, right, when they’re not doing well.” 

Charlie nods slowly, biting the nail on his right thumb.  

“Do you live in a pirate ship?” Ruby asks. 

Alfie chuckles. “Now that’d be something, wouldn’t it? No, just a regular old house. But it’s by the sea.” 

“Mummy says you have to go, or you could get really, really sick again and just lie in bed. Like before,” Charlie says and looks at Tommy with big eyes, still with the tip of his thumb in his mouth. “Do you promise you’ll get better, if you go?” 

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek and tries to swallow the lump in his throat. Clenches his hands into fists until his nails cut into his skin. Keep it fucking together. Just another minute. He can’t fall apart like this, doesn’t want to scare them. And he tries to drown out the voices telling him he’s already done enough damage. 

“I promise,” he says, and hopes his voice sounds steadier than it feels, he can’t tell, but Charlie’s brow smooths out so it couldn’t have been that bad. Alfie hunches over on his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at Charlie. 

“And I tell you what, seeing as it’s not a pirate ship, there’s a phone in the house. And you can call, whenever you want.” Charlie’s entire face lights up. 

“Can we visit too?” he asks, and Tommy’s just about to say yes when Lizzie beats him to it. 

“When daddy’s feeling better,” she says. There’s a slight crease between her eyebrows that Tommy doesn’t understand, but he nods in agreement when Charlie looks to him for confirmation. 

“And you’ll come see our new house?” he asks, and Tommy nods again. Attempts to smile but isn’t sure if he succeeds. 

“Of course,” he says.  

Ruby’s brow is still furrowed. She releases Cyril’s fur and tugs at Alfie’s pant leg. 

“Will you make sure the bad people don’t hurt daddy ever again?” 

“I will,” Alfie answers solemnly, giving Ruby his full attention. She puts on an even more serious look, that Alfie mimics. 

“Do you promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Satisfied, Ruby nods and goes back to holding onto Cyril who patiently stays in place, panting ever so slightly. Charlie is looking thoughtfully at Tommy and he forces himself to meet his gaze, where in that moment, something old and almost ancient seems to glint under the surface. Tommy desperately wishes he could wipe that look away. Wishes he could’ve done a single thing right where his kids are concerned. Given Charlie and Ruby all those things he never had, growing up. It’s all he’s ever wanted. Instead, he’s only tried and failed to do right by them. At least now, he won’t be able to do more damage. Perhaps that’s the best thing he can offer. 

“Think you’re ready to go to the stables now?” Lizzie asks from the doorway. “Bet Snowball is really looking forward to seeing you.” 

Ruby squeals with joy as if she’d completely forgotten and this was a great surprise. She throws her arms around Tommy in a tight hug, chirps a quick ‘bye daddy’ and runs off towards the hallway and the front door.

Charlie hugs him next, for a long time.

“Are you sure there’s a phone?” he asks into Tommy’s chest. Tommy rubs his back. 

“I’m absolutely sure,” he says and smiles when Charlie pulls away to look at him. And thinks he manages this time, because Charlie also smiles, and whatever was in his eyes has gone again. Tommy ruffles his hair. “Go say hi to the horses from me.” 

After another hug, and a wave in Alfie’s direction, Charlie sets off with Cyril in tow, and Tommy barely has time to get up on unsteady feet before Finn comes into the kitchen and pulls him into a tight hug without a word. 

Tommy’s still amazed at how tall he’s gotten, surprised each time his nose ends up somewhere around his chest.  

“Keep in touch, will you?” Finn says, voice thick. “Don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to just… let me know you’re okay. Have Alfie call.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy says, and he still has to remind himself to continue talking, if he stops it’ll be hard to start again. He’ll forget how to. Finn squeezes him one last time and pulls out of the hug. Alfie comes up to him and holds out a hand. 

“Take care of yourself, alright,” he says as they shake hands. “Right? Got to even out the ratio of Shelbys in full control of their faculties. Ada and Lizzie are gonna need you to help keep that brother of yours in line.” 

Finn nods curtly. It’s strange, seeing him stone faced and serious. All grown up. “Look after my brother,” he says, and it’s Alfie’s turn to nod. Thankfully without any of his usual quips. 

“Uncle Finn!” Ruby’s voice comes from the hallway. “Charlie won’t let me sit in the front seat but it’s my turn, tell him!” 

“Better go keep the peace,” Finn says and smiles, the ice melting from his eyes as he clears his throat. “See you for dinner, Liz?”

Lizzie nods, and Finn leaves. Tommy feels Alfie’s hand on his arm and he allows himself to be led to a chair by the table where he sinks down, head spinning. 

When he looks down at his trembling hands, he finds them full of bloody crescent moons from his nails. 

…

He spends the rest of the day sat by the kitchen window waiting, eyes on the driveway. Alfie lets him. Just coaxes him into eating a little something and drinking a few cups of tea. At half past three, two cars finally pull up on the driveway. He doesn’t recognize which one is Alfie’s, but he recognizes Ishmael, who climbs out of the driver’s seat on the Mercedes. When Alfie goes to meet him, Tommy follows close behind, holding onto the back of his sleeve. They meet Ishmael in the hallway and him and Alfie exchange a few phrases in Hebrew. Ishmael hands over a set of keys to Alfie.  

“You haven’t changed your mind, Sir?” he asks. “About driving down by yourself?”  

“No, no, honestly getting to sit in peace and fucking quiet and drive for a few hours sounds like a dream right about now. Just get the luggage sorted,” Alfie says and nods towards the single suitcase on the floor.  

Lizzie appears in the hallway just as Ishmael’s climbed into the second car and the driver’s turned it around to disappear down the road.  

“I know Ada would like to see you before you go,” she says. “She said she’d be home in the afternoon. Think you could give her another hour?” 

Tommy finds himself looking to Alfie, who sighs and puts his coat back on the hanger. 

“Fine, fine, what’s another hour, hm?” he says. “We’ll put on another bloody kettle.” 

Half an hour later, Ada’s car comes driving down the gravel road towards the house, and Alfie herds Tommy out the front door the moment it stops on the driveway, hanging his coat over his shoulders as they go, despite the warm summer air. Appearing silently behind them, Lizzie follows them out onto the driveway. 

“You’re leaving?” Ada asks as she closes the car door and comes to meet them. 

“Yeah. Think it’s about time,” Alfie says. “Just figured we’d stay and say goodbye first.” 

“I’m glad you did,” she says, and adds, “I had to make sure Polly got home okay. We’ve left enough family members to fend for themselves lately. I’m not making that mistake again.” 

Alfie’s face darkens. Tommy steps closer to him, until their arms touch. For his own sake just as much as Alfie’s. 

“She’s grieving Michael,” Ada says. And he can tell she’s trying to catch his gaze but he can’t bear to look up from the gravel “It’s not- she’s not thinking straight. She didn’t mean any of that.” 

“Oh, sounded like she fucking meant it alright,” Alfie says. “And there are no, fucking no excuses for speaking to Tommy that way. Especially after all the damage her fucking son caused, right, which she in no way tried to stop, might I remind you. Don’t stand there defending her.”

“I’m not-“ 

“Well it sure as fuck seems like it.” Tommy hugs Alfie’s arm and he snaps his mouth shut around the words. He sighs. “Fine, fine, let’s just get the goodbyes over with. Before something else happens that delays this whole thing.” 

Closing the distance between them, Ada comes to give Tommy a hug, hesitantly as if she thinks he might bolt. But when he doesn’t pull away she holds him tighter. Tommy only then manages to return the hug. 

“Take care of yourself, Tom,” Ada whispers. Squeezes him one more time before breaking the hug and taking a step back, allowing Lizzie to take her place. 

Lizzie isn’t as hesitant. There’s a new ease to her movements as she embraces him, enveloping him in a cloud of her perfume. And she smiles at him. “Me and Charlie will give you a ring Saturday,” she says “And if you’re not up for talking I bet Alfie can do most of that.” 

“Of course. Happens to be one of my areas of expertise, that,” Alfie says. Him and Lizzie shake hands. 

“Well, I’d like to thank you for your hospitality and for putting up with us for so long,” he says and takes Ada’s hand. “Goes for both of you, of course.” 

“We’ll come and visit. When, if, you’re feeling up for it, Tommy,” Ada says. “And maybe one at a time. I’ve got it on good authority we can be a bit much.” 

Alfie steps back to wrap his arm around Tommy’s shoulders. He’s grateful to have the secure weight back there. 

“Speaking of being a bit much,” Alfie says and looks around. “Where’s big brother, then? Thought he’d want to show his face too.” 

They all look to Lizzie for answers, but she simply shrugs. Alfie grunts. “Right, but he’s made his choice, then. Let’s get going before we’re stuck here for another week.” 

Tommy allows Alfie to lead him to the passenger seat of the car and tries to not let it bother him that Arthur’s not here. It’s fine. Arthur struggles with goodbyes. It’s stupid to expect anything from him… 

Alfie opens the door for him and he climbs into the front seat. 

“Got a blanket here, love, if you get cold,” Alfie says and reaches over him to the back seat, putting the blanket on his lap. Runs his hand over his cheek in passing, before going around the car to the driver’s seat. Though he only has time to climb in and start adjusting the rearview mirror before the front door opens and Arthur appears between Lizzie and Ada on the steps.  

“Hold up!” Arthur calls. Alfie sighs audibly. Glances at him, and melts when Tommy gives him a pleading look. 

“Fine, go say goodbye to your brother.” 

Tommy climbs back out as Arthur strides across the gravel towards the car, only to stop a few paces away from him. Whatever he’d planned to say, he seems to have forgotten. And Tommy doesn’t know what to say either. They end up in a long stretch of silence. 

“Have a safe trip,” Arthur says, finally.

“Okay,” Tommy says. And feels stupid. 

Then they’re back to standing quietly across from each other. Arthur rubs the back of his neck. Allows his arms to hang by his sides. And after a deep breath, Tommy takes the few steps that separate them, wraps his arms around his older brother’s chest and hugs him. Arthur lets out a surprised noise. Freezes up briefly, before returning the hug, tucking Tommy’s head against his chest. 

When Tommy pulls out of the hug, Arthur audibly sniffles. Just once. 

“Go on, better go back to the car before Solomons glares a fucking hole through my forehead,” he says and ruffles his hair. With Arthur following behind, Tommy climbs back into the car. Arthur holds onto the door and hunches over to set his eyes on Alfie. 

“You take care of my brother, Solomons, you hear that? Or we’re gonna have an issue. Doesn’t matter if you’re all the way down in fucking Margate.” 

“Sure, sure, Arthur,” Alfie says. “Have no doubt that you’ll come barging when we least expect it.” 

“I’m serious. If I find out- if you as much as fucking think about hurting him I’ll-“

“Arthur, please,” Tommy says before his older brother can get any redder in the face. To his credit, Arthur does shut up. Clears his throat. 

“Right. Sorry. Just- check in every once in a while, hm? Give me some peace of mind.” 

“Of course,” Alfie says, with a completely solemn expression that makes Arthur wrinkle his brow in suspicion. But then, he nods and closes the door. Goes to stand on the front steps with Ada and Lizzie. 

Alfie turns to him, face soft again. He brushes away a lock of hair that’s fallen over his eyes. It’s gotten so long, the hair on top of his head. “What do you say, love? You ready to go home?” 

“Yeah.” 

Alfie starts the car. Tommy looks back only once as they drive down the gravel road. At Ada who waves. Lizzie who’s smiling ever so slightly. And Arthur who’s blinking frantically. Then he relaxes into his seat, turned to the side so that he can set his eyes on Alfie, and the way the sunlight catches in the silvery strands of his beard. 

Alfie shifts gears as he pulls out onto the road, and then reaches to lay a hand on his thigh. Tommy puts his own hand on top of. 

They’re finally on their way back to Margate. Home.  

[novashelby]

The Most Beautiful Family

Isaiah looked at the little bundle in his hands, and said, "I could have ten."

Evie broke her smile, looking over at him. "I think not. I did not just spend twelve hours in labor for you to expect ten more...."

"But," he whined, giving little Zara kisses. "Isn't she cute?"

"Yeah, she is..."

[askalfiesolomons]

"I see everyone is enjoying my little ... thristtrap, if you will.

It is sinday tomorrow, so I hope the entire class will partake." He winked letcherously.

[fatelcved]

lil crime au in which chiyo does bookkeeping for a gang after she drops out of college so she can make decent money while attempting to get her manga published… i’m having thoughts