Hey, have you considered posting a fic rec for the best fic you've read yet? You write so lovely that I can't help but think that I'm gonna love your choice of reading too! 🫶🏻🫶🏻
Ooo I could definitely try, it may take a little while cause writing just isn't on my radar at the moment but I'll try xx
Hey, do you think shifting is real? Have you ever done it?
If yes, then how??
Ooo interesting question. Personally I don't believe it's real, which also answers the question that no I've not done it. I think that it's more a form of lucid dreaming.
Being a Harry girl who reads fanfic can be so frustrating at times. When I search up Harry Potter x reader. ITS CAUSE I WANT HARRY X READER FICS! NOT DRACO, OR FRED OR CEDRIC!
thomas Shelby x lover oc (dorothy)
in which the new person in town may not be so new after all
Part 2!
Part 1: Here
═════•°• ⚠ •°•═════
warning/s: mentions of war
═════•°• ⚠ •°•═════
Gentle footsteps echoed around the halls of the house, soft and commanding as she wobbled her way to his office, her pregnant belly weighing her down slightly. She stood in the doorway momentarily, hand on her belly, watching as he wrote as if he was writing his last will and testament. He must have been writing all day, and she wasn't entirely sure what it was he was writing, or who would read it, or if it was ever meant to be read by anyone.
"Tommy," Her voice was quiet and soft as she continued to gaze at him from across the room, though he refused to look up at her, his hand continuing to furiously dart across the paper in front of him.
"Grace,"
"It's late," She murmurs, "Come to bed,"
Tommy took out a cigarette, holding it loosely between his lips, lighting it without effort and taking a long drag, he held the smoke in his mouth for a few moments before slowly exhaling, still not looking at her, "I've got to get this done,"
She let out a small sigh, a mixture of frustration, and softness. She understood his workaholic nature, as well as his struggles to sleep, but he told her once she had stopped the sounds of the shovels that plagued his mind, and in more recent months, it seemed that that may not be the case anymore.
"You're working yourself into the ground, Tommy. You need to sleep,"
He let out a sigh, his icy blue eyes finally meeting hers, "You go Grace, I'll join you once I'm finished."
She knew he was likely lying, the work was never finished and his side of the bed was almost always cold, only ever occupied when he joined her for the more intimate moments, but after a few months of marriage, and a baby on the way, she had learned when to just drop a subject, and there was no point in turning this into an argument.
"Goodnight Tommy," She says softly, before turning and exiting the room, the door shutting gently behind her.
Tommy sighed as she left, taking a swig of whisky, and resting his head in his hands.
"She's you're wife Tommy, she deserves to have her husband in bed with her at night," And there was her voice once again. She returned to him everytime he drank alone, which was often, it was deceitful and torturous. Each sip would pull her from the shadows she seemingly fell into, her face becoming clearer and clearer in his drunken haze. She'd smile at him and reach out her hand, but as his fingertips brushed the illusion, she'd dissolve. Sometimes she spoke, other times she simply stared at him. And after almost 10 years of being apart, he still didn't know if her ghostly presence was a blessing or a curse.
He refused to look at her, seeing her would make everything more painful, "Will you ever leave me alone, Dottie?"
The image of Dorothy was sat on the small chaise lounge he had in the corner of his office, staring at him thoughtfully, "I don't choose to be here Tommy, you bring me here,"
"I know I do...but you're dead love, there's no other way of bringing you back,"
Dothothy gets up, walking up to him with a ghostly glide, standing in front of his desk, his eye's eventually coming up to meet hers, a sharp pang and longing in his chest. She'd be 34 now, who knows how she would have aged, but Tommy would bet all the money he had that she would have aged beautifully, yet when he looked up at her now, she was exactly how he left her. It was always the same, she was still 24 in the outfit she wore when she waved him off at the station. Her hand was on the desk and Tommy reached out to place his hand on top of hers, but of course, like all the times before, she simply faded away.
Life had to go on after her disappearance. It had to eventually. While part of Tommy wanted to dedicate his life to finding Dorothy, he knew he couldn't. He had a business to run and it would've surely fallen apart in the hands of his brothers. So he continued to work, even more broken than the war had left him. He used the first few large payments they received to pay for investigators to find her, but each was fruitless in their searches, and each of those investigators then suspiciously disappeared.
He had tried everything. Investigators couldn't find her, he couldn't find her, there wasn't a single witness. So he tried to move on.
Alcohol always resulted in nights like tonight, with her ghostly silhouette appearing him before him, teasing him... coaxing him to join her on the other side. Instead of filling the void, it only dug it deeper.
Then there were the women.
"Sex is sex," Arthur had drunkenly told him once and he wasn't too wrong. It was all the same, and there were plenty of options at the brothel down the road, and Lizzie Stark had extensive experience. But it wasn't the same. Tommy quickly learned that having sex for love and sex for pleasure or distraction was very different. Were his needs met every time he spent the night with Lizzie? Absolutely. But was it the same as with Dorothy? No, and it never was.
So instead he just convinced himself that she was dead. It was easier. If she was dead, being with her was impossible and he could accept that, if she was alive, she was being kept from him, and that he couldn't live with.
It made him feel slightly less guilty when he married Grace.
He had it all. The business, the grand house, the beautiful wife. And yet none of it would ever make him happy.
He let out a long sigh, his eyes going to the photo on his desk, why it was there he didn't know, he continued to torture himself, he felt like he deserved it. She looked back at him, her bright smile trying to break through the wall he had built around his heart, a stone fortress that only she had the key to. He felt judged, he was good to her...she would want him to be good to Grace.
So he got up and dragged himself to their bedroom.
•°• ⚠ •°•
It was strange feeling like a stranger in the city you grew up in. The moment she stepped onto the platform, off the train, she thought she'd feel at home, relief, a familiarity. But she couldn't feel like more of an outsider.
Her heels echoed on the cobblestones, as she walked through smallheath on what would be a regular night. It truly was a town that never changed. She had seen the close-to-destroyed missing posters, and she wasn't surprised, it had been 6 years after all, anyone still trying was fooling themselves.
One thing that hadn't changed about the city was the gossip, people liked to believe that their whispers were quiet, but she had already heard so much just while leaving the station. She heard about people she went to school with being pregnant or married now, she heard about women who were now working in local brothels, a whole lot of political talk, but she heard the most about 'the peaky blinders' and 'Thomas Shelby'
It didn't surprise her, she knew how much passion and drive for success he had. If he wanted his business to be successful, he would make it. And by the sounds of the whispers, he had done just that. Buying houses for his family, a big mansion for himself, a gorgeous wife with a baby on the way, tons of money, he truly had it all now.
And she was happy for him.
When she heard he had a wife, not only that but that she was also pregnant, she expected to be sadder, but if she made him happy that's all she cared about, who knows how much he had changed and how much he had struggled in and after the war, he needed someone. And even if he was doing just fine, it's been 10 years, she would never expect him to wait for her for such a long time.
It took a long time and a lot of walking before she decided where to go. She didn't know where she fit in anymore, Thomas had such control over the city, it wouldn't be long before they crossed paths and with how much he had done for himself, she truly didn't want to throw a spanner in and destroy everything that he had built for himself. She wasn't really sure why she thought returning was a good idea in the first place.
The first place she went to was her old house, she still had the keys on her. She could still remember the way and when she reached her street, she realised things may not have changed as much as she thought it did. Of course she didn't think she'd be able to go in, it likely had new occupants who had changed the locks.
Though when she caught a glips through the window, she could see that her old living room hadn't changed at all.
Confused, she tried the lock, her key still a little stiff, and the door still needing and extra barge to get in. When she got inside, everything was the same. Not a cushion was moved, not a picture frame off-centre, her lipstick she had left on the side the last night she was here was still exactly how she left it. But what confused her the most, was that there wasn't a speck of dust, or grime, or mold, it still smelled freshly of her perfume. After 10 years of abandonment, the house should be disgusting and falling apart. Yet as her finger trailed over the side table by the front door, it was spotless.
It didn't take long for her to figure out who was keeping her house's memory alive. She should have known that he wouldn't move on fully. Even as kids, he was bad at moving on from things.
While on the one hand, she was happy that he hadn't forgotten her, she knew if she started living here, it wouldn't take long before he found her.
She really shouldn't have come home.
•°• ⚠ •°•
Tommy's footsteps echoed around the streets of small heath, making people split like the red sea as he approached them. It was clear to anyone who had even an ounce of observational skills that he was in a terrible mood.
In fact he had livid.
Someone had been inside Dorothy's house.
It was the universal unwritten rule of small heath that no one but him was allowed to step foot near or in her house. Just a week after he had returned from war someone asked him about buying the house, and Tommy didn't hesitate to take his eyes, he probably would have killed him if John and Arthur didn't hold him back.
Tommy used to visit the house every day, 10 years later he visited once a month, and always on the anniversary of her disappearance, which was today. He only trusted one other person to go into the house and that was Polly, who went in every other week to clean it, making sure to leave everything exactly how she found it.
But when Tommy went to visit before going to the tailors, the doormat in the hallway had a corner upturned, a small detail, but enough to let him know someone else had been inside, Polly would never be so careless.
So it's safe to say he was raging, and definitely not in the mood to have to pick up one of his suits that had been tailored for another of Grace's charity events, which Tommy was starting to get really sick of as they weren't genuine and just for appearance and to make her look good to the other rich wives that attended, that and show off her bump.
Tommy's entrance was loud as the door swung open, banging against the wall, his coat damp from the mist hanging through the street. The shop was empty but had it not been everyone would have promptly left, not wanting to be anywhere near the black cloud that is Thomas Shelby.
He doesn't even bother to look at the shop employee, who had her back to him, as he slams slightly more money that was due on the table, "Here to collect. Shelby," he practically barks out.
The employee turns around, and promptly drops what she was holding in shock. When Tommy realises that she's not immediately moving to get his suit, he raised his eyes to look up at her, meeting the beautiful green eyes he had been dreaming of for years, but convinced he'd never see again. His breath catches in his throat and while it felt like he got a massive and painful electric shock to his heart, for the first time in so long, there was a small warm feeling in his heart.
Dorothy. Ten years older but unmistakably her.
The two of them just stared each other for what felt like an eternity before he finally found his voice, though it came out shakey and gravelly.
"Dottie?"
Dorothy's eyes soften noticibly, her vision clouding slightly with tears, she lets out a breathy chuckle, looking down for a brief moment, "I always told you to stop calling me that, I didn't realise how much i'd miss it," she says breathily, her eye's meeting his once more.
Tommy swallowed, his gaze fixed on her face, tracing the lines of time that hadn't stolen her beauty, only softened and deepened it. She was older now, yes, but she was still his Dorothy—Dottie, his Dottie. His heart ached with the bittersweet realization that time hadn't touched his feelings for her, even though it had changed so much else.
"I thought you were dead,"
She looks at him sympathetically, "I don't blame you for thinking that, most people who go missing for more than a week don't come home,"
"How long have you been back for?"
"Just two days now," She answers honestly, "Didn't know where else to go,"
"Why didn't you come back earlier?" His voice bringing its more rough and serious tone.
His question caused a shift in her eyes, she suddenly looked very uncomfortable, "I couldn't," She said simply, it was evident she didn't want to discuss the cause of her disappearance, at least not in this context, which was frustrating for Tommy, she had just returned after disappearing for a decade, and wouldn't tell him where she was, but he decided to just let it go.
"I came back for you, like I promised," He like the memory was still a fresh wound, "But when I got back Poll said you'd been gone for over a year,"
"I saw the missing posters,"
"Polls doing,"
She chuckled, "I should have known,"
For the first time ever between the two of them there was silence, but it was awkward, neither of the knew what to say. A whole decade had passed and so much had happened, hell an entire war had happened since they last saw each other, and whatever caused her to go missing, and then there was...
"I'm married now," He says, without even really thinking, but he had to tell her, he had a life that he had built up, a life that didn't include her, he had Grace, and she needed to know that.
She gave a kind but slightly sad smile, "I heard, whispers of her pregnancy and charity ball have been going on all over the town," She says, moving to grab his suit from off the rack.
"That's one thing that's not changed about here, the gossip."
"What else have you heard?" He asks, almost dreading the answer.
She brings the suit back over, laying it over the counter, "That your business is thriving, all the whispers about the peaky blinders, that you live in a mansion, that you've gotten everything you worked so hard to get...I'm proud of you Tommy, you deserve every good thing that's come your way,"
"Dot-"
"I'm not here to mess up everything you built Tommy. I don't blame you for moving on and as long as your wife is a good to you and you're happy then I'm happy for you. You deserve happiness and I'm not apart of that anymore. I'll be leaving in a few days, I just needed to find somewhere to get myself on my feet,"
Each word hit him like a punch to the gut, and Tommy found himself unable to think properly. How did she always do this? How did she still, ten years later, break down his walls and still be such a kind soul?
He nodded, handing her the money for the suit, their hands brushing for a brief movement, electricity flowing through each of their fingers, her hand was warm and this time, she didn't disappear, it was all real.
"This is far too much," She observed, counting the money.
"To get you back on your feet," He says, not looking at her, "Goodbye, Dorothy."
"Goodbye Thomas."
•°• ⚠ •°•
It had been a few days since Tommy and Dorothy's paths finally crossed, and Tommy had found himself unable to focus on anything but their meeting. She was alive, and that news brought a relief to his heart that he had never experienced on that level before. But she would be leaving soon, maybe she already had, he had given her more than enough money to leave and find somewhere else to comfortably live.
He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hands, as he sat at his desk. But in doing so he caught a glimpse of his calendar, and more importantly the date it was...today would be their anniversary, he had asked her to be his on this exact day 19 years ago.
Tommy didn't believe in a god, or magic or fate. But everything the past few days was far too perfect to ignore. Dorothy returning right at the 10 year point. Their anniversary being today. And he'd been looking for an out for months now that wouldn't leave him alone once more. Everything was pointing to her. The world wanted them.
In that moment he made his decision.
•°• ⚠ •°•
"Should'a known i'd find you here,"
He approached the large oak tree, taking a breaif moment to look across the vast field. He hadn't been back since the last time he was here, 6 years ago, when it was cold and grey and had lost all life. And yet, with her return, the sky was blue, the wildflowers covered every inch of the field except for the small patch of bright green grass she was sat in. Ocassionally the odd rabbit or deer would appear, before quickly being spooked off. It was just how it used to be.
"Had to return just one more time, it's t-"
"The most beautiful spot in all of Birmingham," He finished for her, causing her to look up at him. To her, Tommy had always been the most beautiful person ever, and 10 years later that opinion hadn't changed. 10 years older, yet just as gorgeous. She could see the pain and hurt in his eyes from 4 years of war, she felt devastated that she wasn't there to support him once he came home.
Neither of them spoke, there was so much to say that neither of them had any idea what to say. Tommy simply sat down next to her, their shoulders touching as he looks out at the vast field, taking out a cigarette and smoking it it with strange grace.
Eventually Dorothy couldn't take the silence anymore.
"Tommy what ar-"
"I broke things off with grace," He spurts out, not looking at her, shocking her.
"Tommy! She's your wife and she's pregnant, you can't just break things off with her!"
"The baby's not mine, love," He admits, looking at her, "She came to birmigham after having left for a while, going on about how she was pregnant and it was mine. I married her so the baby wouldn't be born out of wedlock cause that's the right thing to do, but the dates didn't match up. It's not mine,"
"Why did you stay with her?"
"She was good to me when she wasn't lying, being a spy, betraying me or arranging awful events that are just made to make her look good. If I'm being totally honest, I needed something to distract me from you, but now you're back,"
"Now I'm back," She nods.
"And I'm not letting you go," He whispers, his hand moving to hold the back of her neck, his thumb gently stroking the side of her face. Dorothy relaxes into his touch, and the two of them rest their foreheads together, the two of them finally free to love each other once more, maybe it wouldn't be exactly like it was before. Both now broken in their own ways. But the feelings hadn't changed.
in which tommy comes home to sights worse than war
═════•°• ⚠ •°•═════
warning/s: mentions of war
words: 2.5k
═════•°• ⚠ •°•═════
If there was one constant in Tommy's life, it was his girl. Dorothy.
Through all his hardships, she was right there by his side. The two of them were like something out of a storybook, they were always in their little world as if they were constantly walking through a serene forest specifically crafted for them, rather than the smoky streets of small heath. When she was around, nothing else mattered to him.
From the first day he met her, he was captivated by her, and no matter how many times his brothers or Aunt Polly rolled their eyes or teased him for saying so, he knew he'd marry her one day.
•°• ⚠ •°•
June, 1897
Dorothy was walking home from school, her pristine braided plaits bouncing as she walked. She was looking down at her feet as she walked, something her mother often yelled at her about as it would 'ruin her posture'. Her mind was filled with the little symphonies she constantly composed, melodies meant to drown out the relentless clatter of the factories meaning she didn't hear the sound of speeding footsteps running toward her.
Suddenly someone barrelled into her shoulder harshly, causing her to tumble to the ground. Her eyes cloud with tears as she feels the harsh sting of her hands and knees colliding with the cobblestones. The person who collided with her didn't even look back, but it was the person who was chasing him that stopped.
"You alright?" A young boy asks, standing close to her.
Dorothy looked up to be met with the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen, they were so hypnotizing that she almost forgot what he asked her.
She wiped her eyes as she was adamant that she doesn't cry in front of people. She huffed as she sat up, mumbling, "What do you think?"
The boy holds his hand out to Dorothy, which she begrudgingly takes and he pulls her to her feet.
"You're bleeding'" He observes, looking at her grazed hands and scraped knees.
"Oh well spotted," she snaps slightly.
"Hey, I wasn't the one that pushed ya. That was Freddie you should be mad at him," He points out, once again she just pouts and huffs slightly. He takes her hand, or more so he holds onto her fingers to avoid touching the scrapes on her palm and hurting her further, and her begins walking with purpose.
"What are you doing?" Dorothy asks, trying to pull her hand away, but his calloused hand is stronger than hers.
He didn't say anything and something in her just told her to trust him, so she went with him willingly. He pulled her towards the cut. Once they arrive, he sits her down on a small chunk wall. He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket, dipping it into the water. Once satisfied he walks back up to her and kneels in front of her, gently padding the handkerchief against her knee, wiping away the dirt and blood.
Dorothy winced, and each time he softened his touch, as if he were learning how to be gentler.
"I'm Thomas Shelby, by the way," the boy introduced himself, without looking up from his task.
"Dorothy Hawthorne," she mumbled shyly.
"That's a long name...I'll call ya Dottie," He decided, as he moved to wipe her hands.
"I'd prefer if you didn't,"
"Too late, Dottie it is," he replied, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
•°• ⚠ •°•
From that moment onwards, Tommy was infatuated with 'his Dottie'. He started going to school more often to catch a glimpse of her, he would even ditch his brothers to be around her, it was quite annoying in Dorothy's opinion. But over the years, and as he refused to leave her alone, she decided to give the boy a chance and pretty soon they were best friends in every sense of the word.
Dorothy and Tommy couldn't pinpoint when the line between friends and love began to blur, but by the time they were 15, there was no doubt they were in love. To Tommy, Dorothy was the light that made his life a little less grim. With her soft red curls that always perfectly caught the sun and her eyes that shone with optimism that no one in the dreary city shared, she truly was everything Tommy thought he didn't deserve.
Dorothy had this way of making Tommy feel genuinely seen and heard. They would take regular walks around the canal and to the nearby fields, hand in hand where she would listen to him with a patience that no one else gave him. He would ramble on, he'd rant, and, being quite the dreamer back then, share his grand plans of rising above it all, of making a name for himself. And Dorothy, always with that quiet belief in him, never doubted that he would.
"I don't need you to be anyone, other than who you are Tommy," she'd say, running her fingers through his hair as they lay in the grass, heads tilted towards the sky.
"Always know how to ground me, eh Dot?"
"Don't call me that,"
When everything in his life went wrong, it was Dorothy he ran to.As long as she was around, Tommy could smile, laugh, and joke, like nothing else mattered. He was always longing for the feeling of her arms thrown around his neck as they looked at each other longingly. She was his anchor, his constant—his safe place in a world that often felt too harsh.
But when the war came, it shattered the fantasy they had built together. They were ripped from the little world they had created, and everything changed. Tommy could still remember, with painful clarity, the day he told her he was leaving. And even more vividly, the day he left.
•°• ⚠ •°•
August, 1914
The sky hung low and heavy across Birmingham, with thick clouds threatening to rain and a cool breeze in the air carrying the last whispers of summer with it. They were once again in the field, both sat under a tree. Their tree.
Tommy was laid back on his hands while Dorothy lay beside him, her head resting on his chest. Her fingers delicately trailed along his shirt, and for a while, the world felt calm. But Dorothy could feel it in how quiet he was and the way he held her, that something was wrong.
"Talk to me, Thomas," she whispers, her voice cutting through the silence.
He didn't reply to her at first, his gaze remaining out on the sky. The tension in the 24-year-old's jaw was visible, and eventually, his blue eyes met hers, clouded with emotion that Dorothy hadn't seen in him before, "I enlisted, in the war. My brothers and I leave in a few days,"
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Dorothy's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. She had known, of course, that this day might come. Everyone in Small Heath had been talking about the war for weeks now, the rumors, the uncertainty. But hearing it from Tommy—her Tommy—made it all too real.
"A few days?" She whispers, her breath catching in her throat, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "Tommy you...you can't, there must be something-"
"Dottie," He interrupts, his hand coming up to hold hers, his eyes softening, "I have to. It's happening, I have no choice"
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of him. Instead, she tried to be strong, tried to smile the way she always did when the world felt too heavy. “Then I’ll come with you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll wait for you, wherever you are.”
Tommy gave a sad chuckle, shaking his head. "You know you can't love."
“I can,” she insisted, the desperation in her voice growing with every word. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Tommy. You know that. I don’t care where it is.”
Without saying a word, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her like he could shield her from the storm that was coming. She buried her face in his chest, breathing him in, clinging to the moment, knowing it was slipping through her fingers.
"You'll wait for me here," he murmured, his voice low in her ear. "And I'll come back. I promise."
•°• ⚠ •°•
The train station had never been busier than the day that they left. Part of Dorothy prayed Tommy would get stuck in the crowd and miss the train by some miracle, but it seemed that God had too many prayers to answer that day, before she knew it, he was in front of her, holding her tightly for what felt like the last time.
"You better come back" she whispers.
"You know I will," he whispers back, his voice fighting to remain steady. The whistle of the train pirces through the station and with one last squeeze, Tommy let her go, running toward the train. The platform was flooded with women and children, waving tearful goodbyes to husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. Dorothy stood frozen among them, her heart in her throat as she watched him leave.
Tommy stuck his torso out the narrow compartment window, a boyish grin on his face despite everything, his brothers laughing at him from behind. Dorothy rushed to him, her hands gripping the window’s edge as she stood on her toes, catching his lips in a desperate, emotional kiss.
"We'll be back by Christmas, Dottie,"
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" She chokes out.
"At least one more," he chuckles, his hand reached for her cheek, lingering for just a moment longer, before the train began to pull away, taking him from her.
•°• ⚠ •°•
But they weren't home by Christmas, Four long, torturous years passed, and with each one, Tommy lost a part of himself. The war had stripped him bare—his smile faded, his jokes became rare, and his laugh was carried away on the bitter winds of France. The man who had once been full of life felt like a shadow of himself.
However there was the occassional glimps of light amidst the chaos. Everytime a letter from Dorothy arrived, a flicker of his old self returned and for a brief moment he could smile again. He kept every single letter she sent, tucked safely in the pocket of his uniform—right over his heart, the only thing still capable of keeping him grounded in the hell they were living through.
Feeling them was his only motivation to keep going.
He had promised her he'd come back for her.
Over time, the letters became less and less frequent, but that didn't come as a surprise to Tommy. There wasn't much for him to tell her, what was there to say when everyday was filled with dirt and death? And Dorothy...had already used all variations of words in the English dictionary to say she loved him.
Eventually, the day came that he could go home. His brothers were engaged in a deep conversation about home, while Tommy looked out the window at the rolling fields, but he wasn't really seeing them. His thoughts were miles away, buried deep in the trenches of France, where everything had been consumed by mud, blood, and fire. Sure the war was over now, but it clung to him, a shadow that refused to lift.
He shifted in his seat, adjusting the hat pulled low over his eyes as if the familiar flat cap could shield him from the memories clawing at the edges of his mind. The trenches had been hell, but it wasn't the mud or the screams that haunted him most...it was the silence. The silence that stretched on when the gunfire stopped when the dead lay still, and all he had left were his thoughts. And his thoughts always went back to Dorothy.
"You better come back" she had said.
And he had promised. He had told her he would come back. But the Tommy who had made that promise...that boy...was gone. The war had taken him, just like it had taken everything else.
Once they arrived at Small Heath, John, and Arthur wasted no time going to the Garrison, but Tommy just wanted to see his girl. The streets were the same, but they felt different—empty in a way they hadn't before, but something gnawed at him, a sense that the world he had left wasn't quite the same one he had come back to.
It wasn't until he saw the posters that the dread set in.
His Dottie's face was on every wall, lamppost, and window. Her name in big bold letters:
MISSING, DOROTHY HAWTHORNE
Dorothy's bright smile stared back at him, but it was a mockery now, surrounded by a message that chilled his bones. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the poster as though it couldn't possibly be real. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, but all he could do was stand there, frozen.
When the words sunk in, he ripped the poster of the wall, crumpling it in his fist, before shoving it into his pocket. Without a second thought, he marched straight to the old betting den, his heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and rage. The moment he burst through the door, his eyes found his Aunt Polly. She barely had time to acknowledge him before he slammed the poster down on the table in front of her.
"How long?" His voice sharp, like a knife ready to cut thriugh whatever lies had been kept from him.
Polly looked up at him, and for the first time, Tommy saw the deep sadness in her eyes, the kind that spoke of years spent carrying the weight of a world no one else could understand. It seemed like she had been holding it all together for far too long.
"Just over ten months now," her voice quiet almost like she was bracing for a storm.
"10 months...10 MONTHS! AND NO ONE THOUGHT TO TELL ME?!" He raged, smashing one of the glasses on the table. Polly knew that Tommy had a temper, he was bound to inherit something from his father, but this was anger she hadn't seen from him. The war had made him harder, darker, and she had a sinking feeling this kind of fury might become a new part of him.
"You were at war Thomas, facing god knows what. We didn't want to give you a reason to go out and get yourself killed,"
Thomas couldn't bare to listen to another word, storming out of the house towards their field, their sacred place. The same picture of him mocked him the whole way there. But when he got there, it was no longer the sactuary that he remembered. The wildflowers were gone, wilted and forgotten. The birds that once filled the air with song were silent. The sky above was a dull, lifeless grey, and the entire world felt void of her, as if she had taken all the light with her when she left.
Her name caught in his throat, a whisper at first, then a desperate cry torn from his chest.
“DOTTIE!”
His voice echoed through the empty field, but it brought no comfort, no answer...just the sound of it fading into the wind, as hollow and lost as he felt.
in which tommy comes home to sights worse than war
═════•°• ⚠ •°•═════
warning/s: mentions of war
words: 2.5k
═════•°• ⚠ •°•═════
If there was one constant in Tommy's life, it was his girl. Dorothy.
Through all his hardships, she was right there by his side. The two of them were like something out of a storybook, they were always in their little world as if they were constantly walking through a serene forest specifically crafted for them, rather than the smoky streets of small heath. When she was around, nothing else mattered to him.
From the first day he met her, he was captivated by her, and no matter how many times his brothers or Aunt Polly rolled their eyes or teased him for saying so, he knew he'd marry her one day.
•°• ⚠ •°•
June, 1897
"You alright?" A young boy asks, standing close to her.
Dorothy was walking home from school, her pristine braided plaits bouncing as she walked. She was looking down at her feet as she walked, something her mother often yelled at her about as it would 'ruin her posture'. Her mind was filled with the little symphonies she constantly composed, melodies meant to drown out the relentless clatter of the factories meaning she didn't hear the sound of speeding footsteps running toward her.
Suddenly someone barrelled into her shoulder harshly, causing her to tumble to the ground. Her eyes cloud with tears as she feels the harsh sting of her hands and knees colliding with the cobblestones. The person who collided with her didn't even look back, but it was the person who was chasing him that stopped.
Dorothy looked up to be met with the brightest blue eyes she's ever seen, they were so hypnotizing that she almost forgot what he asked her.
She wiped her eyes as she was adamant that she doesn't cry in front of people. She huffed as she sat up, mumbling, "What do you think?"
The boy holds his hand out to Dorothy, which she begrudgingly takes and he pulls her to her feet.
"You're bleeding'" He observes, looking at her grazed hands and scraped knees.
"Oh well spotted," she snaps slightly.
"Hey, I wasn't the one that pushed ya. That was Freddie you should be mad at him," He points out, once again she just pouts and huffs slightly. He takes her hand, or more so he holds onto her fingers to avoid touching the scrapes on her palm and hurting her further, and her begins walking with purpose.
"What are you doing?" Dorothy asks, trying to pull her hand away, but his calloused hand is stronger than hers.
"I'm Thomas Shelby, by the way," the boy introduced himself, without looking up from his task.
He didn't say anything and something in her just told her to trust him, so she went with him willingly. He pulled her towards the cut. Once they arrive, he sits her down on a small chunk wall. He takes out a handkerchief from his pocket, dipping it into the water. Once satisfied he walks back up to her and kneels in front of her, gently padding the handkerchief against her knee, wiping away the dirt and blood.
Dorothy winced, and each time he softened his touch, as if he were learning how to be gentler.
"Dorothy Hawthorne," she mumbled shyly.
"That's a long name...I'll call ya Dottie," He decided, as he moved to wipe her hands.
"I'd prefer if you didn't,"
"Too late, Dottie it is," he replied, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
•°• ⚠ •°•
From that moment onwards, Tommy was infatuated with 'his Dottie'. He started going to school more often to catch a glimpse of her, he would even ditch his brothers to be around her, it was quite annoying in Dorothy's opinion. But over the years, and as he refused to leave her alone, she decided to give the boy a chance and pretty soon they were best friends in every sense of the word.
"I don't need you to be anyone, other than who you are Tommy," she'd say, running her fingers through his hair as they lay in the grass, heads tilted towards the sky.
Dorothy and Tommy couldn't pinpoint when the line between friends and love began to blur, but by the time they were 15, there was no doubt they were in love. To Tommy, Dorothy was the light that made his life a little less grim. With her soft red curls that always perfectly caught the sun and her eyes that shone with optimism that no one in the dreary city shared, she truly was everything Tommy thought he didn't deserve.
Dorothy had this way of making Tommy feel genuinely seen and heard. They would take regular walks around the canal and to the nearby fields, hand in hand where she would listen to him with a patience that no one else gave him. He would ramble on, he'd rant, and, being quite the dreamer back then, share his grand plans of rising above it all, of making a name for himself. And Dorothy, always with that quiet belief in him, never doubted that he would.
"Always know how to ground me, eh Dot?"
"Don't call me that,"
When everything in his life went wrong, it was Dorothy he ran to.As long as she was around, Tommy could smile, laugh, and joke, like nothing else mattered. He was always longing for the feeling of her arms thrown around his neck as they looked at each other longingly. She was his anchor, his constant—his safe place in a world that often felt too harsh.
But when the war came, it shattered the fantasy they had built together. They were ripped from the little world they had created, and everything changed. Tommy could still remember, with painful clarity, the day he told her he was leaving. And even more vividly, the day he left.
•°• ⚠ •°•
August, 1914
"Talk to me, Thomas," she whispers, her voice cutting through the silence.
The sky hung low and heavy across Birmingham, with thick clouds threatening to rain and a cool breeze in the air carrying the last whispers of summer with it. They were once again in the field, both sat under a tree. Their tree.
Tommy was laid back on his hands while Dorothy lay beside him, her head resting on his chest. Her fingers delicately trailed along his shirt, and for a while, the world felt calm. But Dorothy could feel it in how quiet he was and the way he held her, that something was wrong.
He didn't reply to her at first, his gaze remaining out on the sky. The tension in the 24-year-old's jaw was visible, and eventually, his blue eyes met hers, clouded with emotion that Dorothy hadn't seen in him before, "I enlisted, in the war. My brothers and I leave in a few days,"
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Dorothy's breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. She had known, of course, that this day might come. Everyone in Small Heath had been talking about the war for weeks now, the rumors, the uncertainty. But hearing it from Tommy—her Tommy—made it all too real.
"A few days?" She whispers, her breath catching in her throat, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "Tommy you...you can't, there must be something-"
"Dottie," He interrupts, his hand coming up to hold hers, his eyes softening, "I have to. It's happening, I have no choice"
Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of him. Instead, she tried to be strong, tried to smile the way she always did when the world felt too heavy. “Then I’ll come with you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’ll wait for you, wherever you are.”
Tommy gave a sad chuckle, shaking his head. "You know you can't love."
“I can,” she insisted, the desperation in her voice growing with every word. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Tommy. You know that. I don’t care where it is.”
Without saying a word, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her like he could shield her from the storm that was coming. She buried her face in his chest, breathing him in, clinging to the moment, knowing it was slipping through her fingers.
"You'll wait for me here," he murmured, his voice low in her ear. "And I'll come back. I promise."
•°• ⚠ •°•
The train station had never been busier than the day that they left. Part of Dorothy prayed Tommy would get stuck in the crowd and miss the train by some miracle, but it seemed that God had too many prayers to answer that day, before she knew it, he was in front of her, holding her tightly for what felt like the last time.
"You better come back" she whispers.
"You know I will," he whispers back, his voice fighting to remain steady. The whistle of the train pirces through the station and with one last squeeze, Tommy let her go, running toward the train. The platform was flooded with women and children, waving tearful goodbyes to husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons. Dorothy stood frozen among them, her heart in her throat as she watched him leave.
Tommy stuck his torso out the narrow compartment window, a boyish grin on his face despite everything, his brothers laughing at him from behind. Dorothy rushed to him, her hands gripping the window’s edge as she stood on her toes, catching his lips in a desperate, emotional kiss.
"We'll be back by Christmas, Dottie,"
"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?" She chokes out.
"At least one more," he chuckles, his hand reached for her cheek, lingering for just a moment longer, before the train began to pull away, taking him from her.
•°• ⚠ •°•
But they weren't home by Christmas, Four long, torturous years passed, and with each one, Tommy lost a part of himself. The war had stripped him bare—his smile faded, his jokes became rare, and his laugh was carried away on the bitter winds of France. The man who had once been full of life felt like a shadow of himself.
However there was the occassional glimps of light amidst the chaos. Everytime a letter from Dorothy arrived, a flicker of his old self returned and for a brief moment he could smile again. He kept every single letter she sent, tucked safely in the pocket of his uniform—right over his heart, the only thing still capable of keeping him grounded in the hell they were living through.
Feeling them was his only motivation to keep going.
He had promised her he'd come back for her.
Over time, the letters became less and less frequent, but that didn't come as a surprise to Tommy. There wasn't much for him to tell her, what was there to say when everyday was filled with dirt and death? And Dorothy...had already used all variations of words in the English dictionary to say she loved him.
"You better come back" she had said.
Eventually, the day came that he could go home. His brothers were engaged in a deep conversation about home, while Tommy looked out the window at the rolling fields, but he wasn't really seeing them. His thoughts were miles away, buried deep in the trenches of France, where everything had been consumed by mud, blood, and fire. Sure the war was over now, but it clung to him, a shadow that refused to lift.
He shifted in his seat, adjusting the hat pulled low over his eyes as if the familiar flat cap could shield him from the memories clawing at the edges of his mind. The trenches had been hell, but it wasn't the mud or the screams that haunted him most...it was the silence. The silence that stretched on when the gunfire stopped when the dead lay still, and all he had left were his thoughts. And his thoughts always went back to Dorothy.
And he had promised. He had told her he would come back. But the Tommy who had made that promise...that boy...was gone. The war had taken him, just like it had taken everything else.
Once they arrived at Small Heath, John, and Arthur wasted no time going to the Garrison, but Tommy just wanted to see his girl. The streets were the same, but they felt different—empty in a way they hadn't before, but something gnawed at him, a sense that the world he had left wasn't quite the same one he had come back to.
It wasn't until he saw the posters that the dread set in.
His Dottie's face was on every wall, lamppost, and window. Her name in big bold letters:
MISSING, DOROTHY HAWTHORNE
Dorothy's bright smile stared back at him, but it was a mockery now, surrounded by a message that chilled his bones. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the poster as though it couldn't possibly be real. His heart pounded in his chest, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind, but all he could do was stand there, frozen.
When the words sunk in, he ripped the poster of the wall, crumpling it in his fist, before shoving it into his pocket. Without a second thought, he marched straight to the old betting den, his heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and rage. The moment he burst through the door, his eyes found his Aunt Polly. She barely had time to acknowledge him before he slammed the poster down on the table in front of her.
"How long?" His voice sharp, like a knife ready to cut thriugh whatever lies had been kept from him.
Polly looked up at him, and for the first time, Tommy saw the deep sadness in her eyes, the kind that spoke of years spent carrying the weight of a world no one else could understand. It seemed like she had been holding it all together for far too long.
"Just over ten months now," her voice quiet almost like she was bracing for a storm.
"10 months...10 MONTHS! AND NO ONE THOUGHT TO TELL ME?!" He raged, smashing one of the glasses on the table. Polly knew that Tommy had a temper, he was bound to inherit something from his father, but this was anger she hadn't seen from him. The war had made him harder, darker, and she had a sinking feeling this kind of fury might become a new part of him.
"You were at war Thomas, facing god knows what. We didn't want to give you a reason to go out and get yourself killed,"
Thomas couldn't bare to listen to another word, storming out of the house towards their field, their sacred place. The same picture of him mocked him the whole way there. But when he got there, it was no longer the sactuary that he remembered. The wildflowers were gone, wilted and forgotten. The birds that once filled the air with song were silent. The sky above was a dull, lifeless grey, and the entire world felt void of her, as if she had taken all the light with her when she left.
Her name caught in his throat, a whisper at first, then a desperate cry torn from his chest.
“DOTTIE!”
His voice echoed through the empty field, but it brought no comfort, no answer...just the sound of it fading into the wind, as hollow and lost as he felt.
When Finn and Florence Shelby were born, they instantly became the pride and joy of their families lives. They were loved by and doted on by their older siblings, the two of them could get away with close to anything, even Tommy would crack when he watched as his baby sister looked up at him with her big blue eyes that matched his so perfectly.
Despite each of them having particularly close relationships to different older siblings, Florence being especially close to Tommy, and Finn close to Ada, no one could deny the bond the two held with one another, they all saw it from the day that they were born and the two of them grabbed each other’s hands as they slept in their cot. Being twins they were connected on a deeper level than normal siblings. Aunt Polly pointed it out days after their birth. If Florence cried, Finn would cry. If Finn was happy, Florence was happy.
“They can feel each other’s feelings” she claimed.
For a while, the other Shelby’s brushed off their eccentric Aunt, they were babies reacting to the world around them, of course one would start crying if a baby started screaming in their ear. But as they grew older, their Aunts words became truer and truer. The twins would occasionally finish each other’s sentences, or say things at the same time, they could predict the others feelings even when they weren’t around each other. They couldn’t feel the others pain, but if Finn was in pain, physical or emotional, Florence knew, and vice versa.
They never provided much explanation as to what it was they felt, they simply placed their hands on their hearts stating that ‘they could feel each other’.
“Gypsy twin magic” is what they called it.
As the twins grew older, their differences emerged. Finn was street smart, Florence was book smart. Finn wanted a dog, Florence preferred a cat. Finn was eager to be more involved in the business, Florence wanted to be involved with business as little as possible. But despite their differences, they were just as close as when they were children. At 16 years old, they had never spent more than 24 hours away from each other. You would never see one twin without the other and if you did, something was likely very wrong, especially with recent events. Ever since Tommy’s wife, Grace, had died and things had been getting more tense against the Changretta’s, the twins had been ordered to never leave each other’s side and to protect one another, which they didn’t need to be told twice.
However it made moments like this more frustrating. Family meetings had to take place somewhere different every time they were held, it lowered the risk of the Changretta’s targeting them all at once, as they wouldn’t know where they are, Florence, ever the good girl of the family was often first to the meetings, and could almost always guess when Finn would come crashing through the door, panting dramatically as if he had sprinted a 5k. But now, the family had to wait for the two of them to arrive at the Garrison together. And Tommy was getting impatient.
“They should have been here by now,” Tommy says as he paces the room, more on edge than ever.
“’ave a bit of patience Tommy.” Arthur calls out, already half way finished a glass of whisky, “They’ll be in ‘ere any moment, Flo dragging Finn by the ear, scolding ‘im for making her later,”
Their aunt however was less convinced. She was good at sensing when things were wrong, and the pit in her stomach was growing more and more as the twins refused to appear, “Somethings not right,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Then, as if summoned by the collective fears of his family, Finn stumbled through the door. His face was deathly pale, eyes void of any emotion other than pure shock, but most significantly, in his arms, he was carrying Florence’s lifeless form. Her skin was as pale as ever, and she was drenched in blood from a bullet wound in her forehead, that was staining Finn’s white shirt.
Finn had barely processed what happened, he remembered hearing a gunshot, running to where he knew his sister was, and shooting his own gun in anger, that was all he could remember, but hearing the horrified gasps from his family, everything in his brain clicked. He didn’t hear himself scream, or the pain in his knees as he dropped to the floor, all he could do was sob as he desperately clutched his sister and held her close to him, desperately willing for her to wake up and end this nightmare.
The rest of the Shelby’s watched the scene in horror. Ada was sobbing into Johns side, as he held onto her burying his face into her hair to hide his own tears. Arthurs fists were clenched in fury, hardly being able to keep himself from smashing everything in the garrison.
Tommy’s ever cold and distant look had contorted into anguish at the loss of the sister he held so dear, “Not Flo…” he whispers, a quiet plea to whatever higher power there was to give her back to him.
Aunt Polly was the only one who could will herself to move over to the twins, kneeling down next to Finn, holding as much as he’d let her and placing a gentle kiss on the crown of his head, trying to hold herself together for him.
“I only left her cause I forgot my cap,” he whispered, his voice shaky and laced with guilt and self-hatred, “I knew Poll…I knew something was wrong, I could feel it…here,” he said, as he pressed a trembling hand to his heart, his sisters blood staining a red handprint, “It felt like I was dying, and then it vanished…”
“She’s gone…I can’t feel her anymore,”
And the family knew, then and there, the twin flame had burnt out,
"I don't like it when you're drunk Lip. Find me when you're not."
That was the last thing that Delilah said before leaving the Gallagher house.
Lip stayed glued to his spot as he stared after his girlfriend, his eyes filled with nothing but regret. He couldn't turn around. He couldn't face his siblings, or Kev or V, all of them stood behind him.
He didn't want to see Veronica judging him. He didn't want to see Kevin looking shocked. He didn't want to see Debbie sad. He didn't want to see Carl and Ian angry.
But most of all...
He didn't want to see Fiona look disappointed in him.
2 years ago, when Lip asked Delilah out on a date. Fiona gave him one piece of advice:
'Don't fuck this up, cause that girl is special'
But now he's afraid he had done just that.
How did he let himself get to this point?
▪️ • ▪️ • ▪️ • ▪️
After building up this reputation of being the family genius, it was a real smack in the face when he got to college and realised how difficult it was. Suddenly he wasn't a genius surrounded by stupid and average students anymore, now, everyone was smart, smarter than Lip, and he found himself unable to keep up.
College wasn't as easy as Lip believed it would be.
Lip excelled in school, acing every class, scores so high and consistent that a college professor believed he was a cheat (which Lip swiftly disproved) and the first Gallagher to get into college.
Not to mention, he didn't realise that College would take up a lot of his free time as well. Sure in high school he'd get homework, but it would take about 30 minutes, and then he'd get the rest of the day to himself. But college was an entirely different story. He was drowning in assignments, a never-ending stream of readings, essays, and exams. He barely had time to sleep. Trying to balance; College, Family issues, assignments, a relationship and taking care of his basic needs were proving difficult to manage. And it was beginning to take a toll on him. He was almost never able to relax.
But the occasional drink did seem to help, however.
"Hey, so I was thinking-" Delilah says, walking alongside Lip in the direction of his class, Delilah went to the same college as Lip, unfortunately, their classes were at different times, so their schedules rarely lined up, they stayed in different dorm buildings and those dorm buildings were at opposite ends of the large campus.
"-after my class, either I can go to your dorm, you can come to mine or we can go to the library or something and do some studying together. Cause I have an essay to do, and you have that essay due tomorrow which you'll probably want to go over, and we can help each other out," she suggested with a smile.
"Yeah uh, I can't I'm going to that party tonight," Lip says his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking down at his feet as he walks.
"The frat party? But you hate people like that," Delilah remarked, a puzzled expression on her face.
"Yeah, but, it might be fun. Plus, free booze is a good way to forget about all the jerks," he chuckled.
"But what about the essay?"
"Don't worry about it, Del," Lip replied nonchalantly.
Delilah stops walking, tilting her head as she looks at her boyfriend, analysing him intensely. Lip takes a few moments to realise that she's no longer beside him, he turns to look at her but she speaks before he has a chance to question her.
"Have you even started the essay?!"
"Yeah, yeah of course I have," He excuses, looking back down at his feet. Delilah walks back up to him, standing directly in front of him.
"Look at me," She says, still staring at him intensely, causing Lip to reluctantly raise his head to look at her. "Have you started the essay?"
Lip had one weakness and that was Deliah. Delilah seemed to be the one person he could not lie to. He didn't want to say it out loud, she already knew the answer, he could tell, so he simply shook his head at her.
Delilah looked at him with an indescribable look of shock, disappointment and disbelief, "Lip it's due tomorrow! This isn't like homework, this will affect your grade!"
"Yeah I know, but I'll...I'll get it done I swear!" Lip promises.
"So you're not gonna go to the party?"
"Nah I'm still gonna go I promised my roommate but I'll just do it when I get back,"
"Lip...this really isn't a smart idea, please just come study with me," Delilah begged, she already knew his grade was currently at a D, and she was worried that missing this essay would be the beginning of the end.
"Del...I'll, I'll just go for like an hour, and I won't drink and I will go straight to my dorm and do the essay," He tells her, looking at her genuinely.
Delilah looked at him with a look he couldn't quite describe, but it was the look she gave him when he initially doubted going to college and the look she gave him when he briefly dropped out of high school. It was the type of look that said 'I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.'
"Promise?" She asked, holding out her pinky to him, causing Lip to chuckle at the gesture.
"I promise," He locked his finger with hers, and they continued walking toward Lip's class, sharing a small smile, their words no longer necessary.
▪️ • ▪️ • ▪️ • ▪️
No drinks turned into one drink.
One turned into two.
Two into four.
Four into seven, until Lip woke up in his dorm the next day with no memory of how he got there. A quick look at the clock indicated to him that it was two in the afternoon. Not only had he not done the essay, he hadn't even shown up to his lesson.
Lip just lay in bed staring at the ceiling, wallowing in his own self-pity before there was a knock at the door. Somehow, in his severely hungover state, Lip got himself to the door, opening it to reveal Delilah, whom he let in without question.
"Hey, Emma mentioned her boyfriend told her you didn't show up today, you ok?" Delilah inquired, her concern evident as she stood in the middle of the dimly lit room.
Lip, battling nausea, managed to mumble, "Yeah, just uh...not feeling great today."
Delilah, however, was beginning to notice the telltale signs – Lip was wearing the same clothes as the previous day, avoiding the light streaming through the window, and his breath reeked of alcohol. The pieces fell into place. "Are you hungover?"
Lip, still battling the pounding headache and the queasy feeling in his stomach, attempted to conjure up an excuse, but Delilah's perceptive gaze left him feeling exposed. He scratched the back of his head nervously. He shifted uncomfortably under Delilah's gaze, his attempt at avoiding eye contact was now more conspicuous than ever. He cleared his throat and mumbled, "Hungover? Nah, it's not that... I just had a rough night's sleep, you know?"
Delilah's expression remained sceptical. She was no stranger to Lip's occasional indulgence in alcohol, and she was also aware of how alcohol affected his family so she knew all too well what could happen if he overdid it. Her concern deepened as she approached him, placing a hand gently on his arm.
"Lip, you're wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and you look like you haven't seen daylight in a while. And why does your breath smell like a distillery if it's not a hangover?"
Lip sighed, realizing that he couldn't keep up the charade any longer. He looked down at the floor, feeling ashamed. "Okay, fine," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had a few drinks last night, and then a few more, and... I messed up, Delilah."
"Lip, you promised me you wouldn't drink, especially not on a school night. I trusted you. And what about that essay you were supposed to finish?"
Lip's guilt was written all over his face as he tried to avoid the confrontation. "Look, Delilah, I know I messed up, but it was just one night, you know? I didn't think I'd end up like this."
"Lip you're not in high school anymore. You can't do this. If you keep making mistakes, if your grades continue to slip, you'll get expelled and then what? Love, you have so much potential, you can do so much with your life, why are you wasting it?"
Lip finally met her gaze, and he could see the disappointment in her eyes. "Delilah, I promise, this was a one-time thing I won't let it become a problem. I messed up, and I'm really sorry. I'll work harder, I'll catch up on the essay, and I won't let this happen again."
Delilah looked at her boyfriend, she didn't know how to feel. She wanted to believe him, and part of her did, but part of her was screaming at her not to believe him, part of her believed Lip was already in too deep, but Lip was as stubborn as they come as if he would ever admit he needed help.
"ok...I'm choosing to trust you,"
▪️ • ▪️ • ▪️ • ▪️
As the days passed, Lip's descent into a pattern reminiscent of his father became increasingly apparent. The vibrancy that once characterized him began to fade, replaced by a weariness that settled in his eyes. His dishevelled appearance mirrored the neglect of his responsibilities, and the promise he made to Delilah seemed to be slipping through his fingers.
His academic life suffered the most. Lip was back to his high school ways, and started missing classes regularly. The threat of expulsion from his professors became a persistent shadow, hovering over his academic career. Lip's disregard for his education mirrored the same lack of concern that had marked his father's life.
Alcohol, once an occasional escape, became a daily crutch. It wasn't just about relaxation anymore; it was a way to numb the growing dissatisfaction and disappointment within him. The scent of alcohol clung to him like a familiar companion, and the lines on his face deepened as the weight of his choices pressed down.
Delilah, consumed by her exams and unaware of Lip's unravelling, found herself distanced from the person she once knew. Their interactions became infrequent, and Lip's excuses for his absence grew thin. She knew something was wrong, but she was busy and was never able to find a time to meet him, and over text, it's hard to tell what state someone's in, so Lip was able to perfectly mask his drinking through the protection of a screen. The promise of love and support now seemed like a distant memory.
The similarities to Lip's father became more pronounced. The cycle of self-destructive behaviour, a pattern Lip had sworn to break, now threatened to consume him. The downward spiral was not just about missed classes and too many drinks; it was a reflection of a deeper struggle within Lip—a battle between the person he aspired to be and the shadow of his father that loomed over him. But every day he still told himself the same thing.
I'm not my fucking dad.
When the next break in the college term came, he returned home to his siblings, which was both nostalgic and haunting, as he realised how much he loved it yet didn't want to be stuck there. And how did he handle those haunting thoughts? By drinking of course.
The Gallagher siblings noticed this of course, but they wrote it off as Lip destressing after a long college term, after all, they didn't know this was an everyday occurrence for him. He's lip! He's supposed to get out, he's supposed to be ok! He's fine!
And for the first few days he was, he was able to fall under the radar as his siblings dealt with the usual Gallagher chaos and was currently drinking a beer on the couch as his siblings did their own things around him. Yet he had forgotten something, in a drunken haze a few nights previous, he had invited Delilah over, reality was about to smack him in the face, and he had no idea.
When he answered the door and saw Delilah, he felt his mind running at a million miles an hour. He didn't know why she was there. What she wanted. If she could tell he was drunk. His mind was both blank and full of thoughts at the same time, and the sudden shock of his girlfriend being stood in front of him, made all the guilt he had been drinking away come back.
"Del! Hey...uh what are you...what are you doing here?"
"You invited me? You don't remember?" She chuckles.
"Sorry sorry, things have just been uh, crazy you know how it is here, come on in." He says, stepping to the side to let her in.
Delilah offered a faint smile as she stepped into the chaotic Gallagher household, where the usual mayhem of the family's daily existence continued unabated. Ian was nowhere to be seen. Frank, was ranting about some new get-rich-quick scheme in the corner to Kevin. Fiona and Veronica were cackling about the events of their last night out. And Debbie and Carl were arguing about something stupid. Lip's siblings had become accustomed to the chaos, and so the presence of his girlfriend had gone unnoticed.
"I tried to call and check it was still okay for me to come over but you didn't pick up, I thought I'd come anyway though...I've missed you"
Lip's heart sank at the sincerity in her voice. He had no idea how to explain the disarray of his life to her, especially now that she was standing right in the middle of it. His attempt to mask the smell of alcohol on his breath with a forced smile was feeble at best.
"Missed you too, babe," he mumbled, his words slightly slurred. "Sorry, it's just a bit chaotic here, you know how it is."
Delilah nodded, seemingly understanding, but there was a flicker of concern in her eyes. She had always been perceptive, and something about how Lip was acting didn't sit right with her. Delilah finally at Lip more closely, her brow furrowing. "You seem...off, Lip. Is everything okay?"
Lip tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, just... you know, dealing with the Gallagher circus. It's uh...it's been a long day."
Delilah wasn't convinced, but she let it slide for the moment. However, as she continued to talk to Lip, the pieces of the puzzle were slowly coming together. Lip's slurred words, the distant look in his eyes, and the fact that he was clearly trying to hide something were all red flags. Delilah notices the two empty beer bottles on the coffee table in front of the couch, the one place nowhere else was and the final piece slides into place. "You're drunk again...aren't you?"
Lip's eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for a convincing response. "Drunk? No way, Del. I mean, yeah, I had a couple earlier, but it's nothing. Just needed to unwind, you know?"
Delilah's concern deepened, and a mixture of disappointment and hurt flashed across her face. "Lip, we talked about this. You promised me you wouldn't let alcohol become a problem again. What's going on?"
Lip could feel the weight of his broken promises pressing down on him, and he struggled to find the right words. "It's not a problem, Del. Just a couple of drinks. I've got everything under control."
"Don't lie to her," Ian's voice suddenly came from the stairs, in a tone so cold so...displeased, it caught the attention of everyone in the room.
"What do you know Ian?" Lip slurred slightly, becoming slightly agitated as all the attention in the room was now on him, there was no hiding from the truth now, and Lip knew it.
"What do I know? I know that since you've been home you've drank up to 5 beers a day, some days more. I know that it's clearly a problem if you're lying to Delilah about it. I also know that you've missed almost all your classes and you're on the brink of being kicked out of college!"
Everyone in the room stared at Lip a few people letting out a shocked 'what?!', except for Delilah who just looked hurt, she trusted him...and he broke it.
"How do you fucking know that?" Lip slurred, pissed off that his issues were being exposed.
"You left your email on your laptop open,"
"You had no fucking right-"
"Ok! Lip this is not the right time for this, if there's a problem we can talk but right now let's just leave it," Delilah says sweetly, almost as if she was talking to someone younger than her as she places a gentle hand on his shoulder, which Lip only shrugs off.
Lip's anger flared, fueled by the alcohol coursing through his veins. "You had no right to snoop around my stuff, Ian! This is my life, my business, and I don't need you or anyone else judging me!"
Ian's expression remained unyielding, his concern masking any irritation he might have felt. "Lip, this is everyone's business when it's affecting you like this. We're your family, and we care about you. We don't want to see you self-destruct."
Lip's voice grew louder as he tried to defend his actions, his words slurring together. "Self-destruct? I'm fine! I can handle a few drinks, and missing a few classes is not a big deal. College is overrated anyway."
The room seemed to grow tense as Lip's rant continued. Fiona, his older sister, exchanged worried glances with Ian. Delilah, however, remained remarkably composed in the face of his anger. "Lip, I'm not here to judge you. I'm here because I care about you. But you can't deny that something's not right. We can work through this together, but you have to be willing to admit that there's a problem."
Lip's frustration only mounted as he felt cornered. He shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You're all overreacting. I don't have a problem. I can stop whenever I want. You all don't get it," he ranted, his voice rising. "I can handle my shit. I'm not like Frank. I'm not some fucking alcoholic!"
Delilah could see that Ian was also starting to get heated, and she was worried that he and Lip would begin to get physical and fight one another. She knew Lip's defences were up, she knew he felt judged, intimidated, and guilty, and having everyone there was making things worse for Lip, not better.
"Ok, maybe this isn't a conversation we should be having with so many people," She chuckled nervously her voice still gentle, She moved closer to Lip, trying to defuse the tension. "Love, let's just go outside, and we can-"
But when Delilah's hand touched Lip's shoulder, he reacted with more force than he intended, shoving her away, unintentionally causing her to hit the wall. The room fell silent, and everyone took a defensive step closer, their faces reflecting shock and anger.
Lip stared at Delilah, his eyes widened with regret, realizing he had acted impulsively. Delilah, after a moment of anger, looked down, composing herself. She glanced up at him, restraining her tears.
"I don't like it when you're drunk Lip. Find me when you're not." Her voice quivered slightly before she swiftly made her way out of the Gallagher house.
Lip stayed glued to his spot as he stared after his girlfriend, his eyes filled with nothing but regret and tears. He couldn't face his siblings, or Kev or V. He didn't want to see the judgment. He didn't want to see the shock. He didn't want to see the sadness. He didn't want to see the anger.
But most of all he didn't want to see the disappointment.
It took a few moments, but he turned around to face them, his body trembling slightly, as a few tears escaped his eyes, the Gallaghers distraught at the sight of their broken brother.
lip Gallagher x girlfriend OC (Delilah)
summary: in which frank takes it too far
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
warning/s: violence
word count: 1.6k
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
In the 9 months that Delilah had been dating Lip Gallagher, she had only met the patriarch of the family a few times.
The first time she met Frank was 2 weeks into dating Lip. The two of them were on a date in the Alibi, and it was only inevitable that Frank would make a drunken appearance. Frank ended up stumbling into the bar and smashing the TV within 5 minutes of being there. He didn't even notice that his son and his son's girlfriend were in there as well. As far as first impressions go, with Frank, that was probably the best that it could have gone.
The second time she met Frank was after a month of dating Lip. She nearly stood on him while making her way into the Gallagher house from the backdoor. The man was passed out on the kitchen floor, but the Gallagher siblings didn't say anything about it or show any concern, so Delilah could only assume that it was a regular occurrence.
The other few times she had met him had been similar occurrences, or him arriving home while the Gallaghers, with the additions of Veronica, Kevin and Delilah, were watching some shitty TV show together. Frank never really remembered Delilah, even though she had now introduced herself 4 different times, the best she had gotten for him remembering her was him saying:
Oh yeah, you're Lip's girlfriend, right?
And that was the best she was probably ever going to get. Besides, Lip had talked so much shit about his father to Delilah that she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to have any form of relationship with him anyway. Lip's siblings loved her, and that was enough for Delilah.
─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─
It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for the Gallagher house to be the designated hang-out spot for family and friends of the Gallaghers, in fact, it wasn't uncommon for at least 8 or 9 people to be in the house at a time.
This day was no exception.
Fiona, Kevin and Veronica were in the kitchen drinking and gossiping about random shit. Ian and Lip were in their room doing god knows what. Carl was running around with the taser Lip once gifted him (batteries removed of course) and Debbie and Delilah were sitting on the couch together, the older of the two girls putting Debbies hair into plaits.
The peace was soon disrupted however when Frank drunkenly stumbles in through the back door, after not being home for about two weeks.
"Ahh, home sweet home! You know, a man's house is like his kingdom!" Frank merrily proclaimed in his drunken haze, his words tinged with an air of self-assuredness.
"Yeah, except you like to leave your kingdom for your subjects to look after don't you?" Fiona laughs slightly, in good spirits due to her also being slightly tipsy, Frank was easier to deal with when you're also drunk.
"Fuck off offspring one! A true king has a range of royal duties to attend to, but he should still return to his kingdom, where subjects eagerly await with open arms- what the fuck is that?"
Frank stops his drunken rant as he reaches the living room, his eyes landing on Delilah, who had stopped doing her hair to listen to Frank's drunken rant. Delilah sighed slightly, she couldn't even get 'Lip's Girlfriend' anymore, now she was being demoted to that.
Before Delilah can introduce herself, again, the sound of two sets of footsteps interrupts them, Ian and Lip were making their way down, probably to see what the commotion was about.
"She is Delilah, Frank. My girlfriend," Lip sighs, he and Ian both pausing on the bottom step, observing the man in front of them.
"Frank they've been dating for almost a year or something, you've met her like 10 times," Ian judges the man, he was close with Delilah, having been her friend before Lip even knew who she was.
"Girlfriend? Since when does Lip do relationships?"
"Since 9 months ago," Debbie answers matter-of-factly, the Gallagher household was well aware of Delilah's status as Debbie's unofficial favourite sibling, despite not actually being sisters.
"Oh, come on. Lip, my boy, he's not one to settle down. So, tell me, Plain White T, how much is he dishing out for you?" Frank's comments once again directed Delilah's way.
"Paying me?" Delilah's brows furrowed, a mixture of confusion and frustration evident in her response.
"Yeah, paying you. That's what I asked, is it not? I've heard that modern-day escorts charge a pretty penny, way more than in my time. So, how much is my son shelling out to sleep with you?"
Delilah looks at him, a bewildered expression on her face, she wasn't sure whether to be disgusted, angry or upset with the old drunk. Lip on the other hand was fuming at his dad, how dare he insult his girlfriend like that!
"I'm not paying her anything, Frank! She's not a whore, she's my girlfriend and you're gonna fucking respect that!" He shouted, walking up to his dad, staring at him intensely.
"Lip it's fine just leave it," Delilah sighs, making her way up to her boyfriend, putting a hand on his shoulder, trying to pull him away so that they could go somewhere else to avoid the drunken man for the rest of the night.
"Lip, just step away, man," Ian's voice joined the chorus of voices urging restraint, the situation teetering on the edge of a larger conflict.
"Yeah Lip, listen to the bitch," Frank challenges. Lip looks up and sighs deeply before turning and walking away a few paces.
"I gotta walk away or I'm gonna fucking hit him," he grumbles, making his way back to the stairs, Delilah's hand remaining on his shoulder.
"Hey, Lip. A piece of fatherly advice—whatever you're paying her, it's too much. Any woman who looks like that should be shared around for free," Frank's jeering remark finally pushed Lip beyond his limits. Uttering a resigned "fuck it," Lip turned back to his father and landed a forceful punch on Frank's face. The room collectively gasped, shocked by the unexpected escalation. This wasn't the first time Lip had punched his dad, but it was the first time that he kept punching and shouting at Frank after he had fallen to the floor.
"Fuck you, Frank!"
The room was filled with a mix of shock and apprehension as Lip continued to rain down blows on his fallen father, his anger pouring out in a torrent of punches and expletives. Fiona, Kevin, and Ian quickly intervened, struggling to restrain Lip's furious assault.
"Enough, Lip!"
"Jesus, Lip, that's too much!"
"Motherfucker," Lip spits before grabbing Delilah's hand and pulling her upstairs with him, taking her into his room to get away from the commotion that was happening downstairs. There was a lot of yelling, and although Delilah couldn't make out anything specific being said, it was clearly directed at Frank.
Lip sat on Ian's bed, still breathing heavily and still very angry. Delilah looks at Lip for a second, her eyes being drawn to his right hand, which was now bruising and bloodied up, Delilaah couldn't quite tell if it was his own blood or Franks or a mixture of the two.
Delilah huffed a little before making her way out of the room swiftly, which confused Lip. Luckily for him, he wasn't left to be confused for long as she returned less than a minute later, first aid kit in hand. Lip rolled his eyes slightly, as Delilah, without saying a word, kneels down in front of him and took his hand in hers and started to wipe the blood off of it.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" Delilah eventually spoke up, as she began to bandage his hand, "You can't just go around beating up everyone who insults me. We spend a lot of time in the southside, Lip, you'd be in fights every other day."
"Well, then I hope you get used to patching me up, 'cause I guess I'm going to get into fights every other day," Lip jokes, but Delilah only gives him an unimpressed look as a response.
"Del he called you a whore, I couldn't just stand there and let him say that shit about you."
"Yeah, but you didn't need to beat the living shit out of him, Love. You could have just shouted at him a bit and Fiona and the others would have stood in to help and get him to stop," She says as she finishes bandaging his hand, getting up off the floor so that she was now standing in front of him.
Lip looked up at his girlfriend, he used his good hand to pull her towards him so she was now standing between his legs, his arms wrapped around her legs, her hands going straight to his curls, brushing through them.
"You gotta stop letting people walk all over you Del. Cause look as much as I want to be, I'm not always going to be around to cuss out the people that are shitty to you,"
Delilah smiles down at her boyfriend, leaning down and kissing him gently, "Don't worry, I'll grow a thicker skin, and spend some more time with Veronica, I could probably learn a few good comebacks from her." She jokes before lowering her voice to a whisper.
"Thank you for defending me even if it was a bit excessive, Love you, Dingus."
"Love you too, nerd. And hey, if you're pissing someone like Frank off-"
lip gallagher x gryffindor student (Eileen Potter)
summary: in which lip Gallagher tolerated eileen potter
Part two of three
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
warnings: description of injury, mentions of sex
word count: 6.2k
◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
If you were to tell Lip Gallagher, at any point, that in his sixth year of Hogwarts, he would be making his way through the dimly lit halls of the second floor towards the abandoned girls' lavatory, to meet with Eileen Potter, he would have called you mental and wouldn't have believed you.
Yet that was exactly what he was doing.
As Eileen Potter had somehow managed to convince him to help her brew the Wolfsbane potion.
◇flashback◇
"My help?" he echoed, his voice laced with surprise.
"Yes, your help," Eileen confirmed, her tone carrying a touch of urgency. "Now, just answer me this: have you heard of the Wolfsbane potion?"
"The Wolfsbane potion? Yeah, I've heard about it, why?" Lip asked confusion still on his face.
"I want to brew it," Eileen states, looking at Lip intensely, analysing his every movement to try and gather what he was thinking, "And I need your help,"
Lip was severely taken aback by the girl's request, "Why would you want my help, Potter? Can't you ask Lupin?"
"I don't want your help Gallagher, I need it. You're good at potions and if we work together we should be able to brew it perfectly,"
"And why in Rowena's name should I help you?"
Eileen rolled her eyes at the boy before providing him with an explanation, "Professor Slughorn is looking for new members to add to his 'slug club', he only lets in students that stand out to him. I want in. The wolfsbane potion would impress him enough to do so. Only problem is it's advanced, very advanced. Doing it alone would take months, but with another person, weeks. if you help me we can share the credit and I'm sure Sluggy will let you in as well,"
"Why would I want to join the Slug Club, don't they just have fancy dinners occasionally? Yeah, not my scene, no thanks."
Lip turns to leave the room, only for Eileen to take out her wand and lock the door, stopping him from doing so. Lip turns back to look at her, an annoyed expression on his face.
"The slug club has more than fancy dinners, there are opportunities to meet influential wizards in quidditch, the ministry and other businesses, which gives you a chance to show off and make them consider you for future jobs-"
Lip was listening now.
"Slughorn will offer further guidance that will help you improve and become more knowledgeable about potions than our classmates, not to mention the number of resources you would have access to as he'll let you in his store cupboard on occasion. Not to mention you would become a well-respected and favoured student."
Favoured.
Lip liked that word.
Perhaps the slug club would be his chance to finally beat Eileen Potter once and for all.
"Fine, I'll help you. But this is for no other reason than personal gain." Lip stated his face like stone, cold and unmoving.
"Good, meet me tomorrow during revision break at exactly 2 pm in the second-floor girls' bathroom, don't be late and don't be followed," Eileen warned before unlocking the door and making her way out, not sparing Lip another glance.
◇flashback over◇
Why Eileen wanted to meet in the girls' lavatory, Lip couldn't work out. It was an unusual place to meet, but Eileen had insisted that it would be private enough when he expressed his confusion to her in their potions lesson that day, where they were once again partnered up.
His footsteps echoed and reverberated through the empty hallways, creating an eerie atmosphere. It was uncommon for the halls to be so quiet, but due to most students being either in class or in the Great Hall or Library to study, he had only passed a few people. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the bathroom door.
Taking a deep breath, Lip pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the shockingly deserted space. The room was dimly lit and looked exactly like the boy's bathrooms, only it looked like no one had come to clean it in over 20 years.
The majority of the mirrors were shattered, reflecting fragmented images of his own face and the air was heavy with a musty scent, hinting at the neglect this once-vibrant place had endured.
Lip's eyes scanned around the room for Eileen. And there she was, sat cross-legged on the floor, her back to him, with a cauldron, multiple flaskes and ingredients and an enchanted Bunsen Burner underneath the cauldron.
"Potter?" Lip called out, his voice echoing in the empty bathroom.
She turned to look at him. Her expression was completely neutral. The fire from the Bunsen Burner slightly illuminated the right side of her face, due to the room's only light source being the windows, as all the lights were broken.
"You're here," She said, slight surprise evident in her voice, "Good,"
Lip approached the girl, while still maintaining a respectful distance between the two. He opted to stand practically directly across from her, leaning against one of the bathroom stalls, letting his bag drop to the floor next to him.
"So, the Wolfsbane potion huh? Any particular reason you picked this specific one?"
"It's advanced," Eileen said shortly, not looking at him but at the book in front of him, staring intensely at the potion's recipe.
"Yeah, but there are plenty of advanced potions. And you picked this one. You could have picked an even more advanced one by getting a book from the restricted section, something you and your friends are perfectly capable of doing. And yet you chose...Wolfsbane. So my question is, why? Is this some sort of political statement? Or are you secretly a werewolf?"
Eileen glared up at Lip through her eyelashes, a scene that Lip's brain captured and analysed meticulously, "Because it interested me the most...happy? It's a potion that is not encouraged to make, so we need this to be secret, but Slughorn won't care,"
It wasn't much of an explanation. But Lip knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of her. "Right, follow-up question, why are we doing this in the middle of the day, inside the girl's lavatory? I mean you're the one that doesn't want to be caught. Isn't it likely we will be,"
Eileen scoffed slightly, though rather than it being from any type of distaste, it was one of amusement, "No, nobody ever comes in here, look at this place, it hasn't been cleaned for a few decades at least,"
"Why?"
"Moaning Myrtle," Eileen tells him. Lip stared at her confused, having no idea what or who Moaning Myrtle was.
At first glance, it looked like Eileen was looking at him too, except she was looking at something, or rather someone, behind him.
"Who?!"
"Moaning Myrtle," Eileen repeated, watching the figure slowly stalking its way towards Lip intensely.
"Who's Moaning Myrtle-" Lip started asking, only to be startled by a ghostly figure next to him, screaming in his face.
"I'm Moaning Myrtle!" The ghost, who couldn't be more than 14 years old (physically that is) yelled.
Moaning Myrtle floated up gracefully above the sinks, glaring at Lip intensely, yet somehow crying at the same time, "But of course, you haven't heard of me, who would ever care about ugly, miserable, moping moaning Myrtle."
She starts shrieking and crying before shooting back into one of the stalls, diving into the toilet, causing a lot of the water to burst out of it.
Lip stated towards the stall, his face displaying a mix of disbelief, shock and confusion. However, he was quickly distracted by a shot giggle from behind him.
He turned his head back to Eileen, observing her once again, her seemed to do that a lot.
Her robe was neatly folded, and she was sitting on top of it, protecting her skirt from the dirty floor. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and her hair was already beginning to frizz from the heat of the cauldron.
A sight that was surprisingly not unpleasant.
"She's a little sensitive," She whispers, not wanting Myrtle to hear her.
"A little?!" Lip said, shocked that that complete outburst was 'a Little'
"That was tame for her," Eileen shrugs, "She was a Ravenclaw, I'm surprised you haven't heard of her,"
"I suppose as this place is abandoned, only the teachers know," Lip said, more to himself than to Eileen.
"Most likely," Eileen agrees, looking back at the potion recipe, "Anyway, let's focus on the task at hand here, Gallagher, we have a potion to brew and it is going to take a long time if we keep chatting,"
Lip moved over to Eileen, sitting across from her, taking a close look at the potion recipe.
◇◆◇◆
The past few weeks had been confusing for Eileen and Lip, as they balanced both brewing this unfamiliar potion, working as a team, and keeping it a secret as much as they could. However, it was not only confusing for them as it left both the Marauders and the Gallagher family perplexed, as they witnessed their siblings, sneaking off together and engaging in short, cryptic conversations, something they had never done once in the six years they now knew each other for, they couldn't help but speculate.
Fiona, Jimmy, V, Peter and Remus were under the impression that the two were simply studying together. Although they had never studied together before, Slughorn had paired the two of them together a number of times as they always produced potions that were close to perfection when working together, so perhaps they were studying together so that they could spend less time talking in potions and more time making the potion.
Debbie and Carl on the other hand had come up with a far more childlike and adventurous explanation. They believed that the two had stumbled upon some sort of magical creature lurking on the second floor and that their meetings were attempts to try and tame the beast. Even though Lip explained that this wasn't the case and that Eileen and himself still did not like one another, the two younger Gallaghers continued to live in the fantasy scenario that they had created.
Meanwhile, James and Sirius were still convinced that if they had the whole of Hogwarts to themselves for a night, they would spend it on the opposite end of the castle from one another. Therefore, they believed the two of them were meeting in order to engage in intense duels and hexes against one another. They attempted to use the Marauders Map to find where the two of them were, so that they could go and support her if needed, but the map always seemed to go missing when they met up, so clearly she didn't want to be followed.
Ian, Mickey and Mandy on the other hand believed that Eileen and Lip's relationship had taken a more...intimate turn, speculating that the two were engaging in a passionate physical relationship behind closed doors and that these not-so-secret, secret, meetings were their chance to engage in different sexual encounters. After all, hate fuels passion.
The very thought of seeing Eileen in that way, however, disgusted Lip, causing him to recoil anytime the three brought it up as a possibility.
Theories aside, one thing was clear; everyone was incredibly confused by the sudden closeness if that's what you could even call it, between Lip and Eileen. But they knew that they weren't going to get answers any time soon.
Currently, Lip was leaning against one of the toilet stalls once more, this time he was the one waiting for Eileen. They had to meet later than usual that day, as Lip promised Ian he'd help him study for his OWLs and Eileen had quidditch practice after lessons, so they were meeting in the late hours of the evening.
Eileen was now running over 20 minutes late, which irritated Lip, as Eileen had always been on his arse about not wasting her time and arriving at the time that they agreed on, and he always made sure he was on time so that he wouldn't have to listen to her complaining. Yet here he was, waiting for her to arrive 20 minutes after the time that they agreed on.
The minutes were ticking away, and Lip's patience was wearing thin. He was beginning to wonder whether or not he should leave and complain to her the next day about it, he looked down at his stuff, but before he could grab his bag and leave, the door to the girl's lavatory swung open and Eileen came tumbling into the room, clearly out of breath.
Lip didn't look up at her before he started complaining, irritated at her lateness, "You're late, Potter" he said curtly, displeasure seeping his voice, "You're constantly on my ass about not being late. We agreed on a time, Potter, and I've been waiting here for fucking ages,"
"I know Gallagher, I'm sorry," Eileen sighed, "I'm sorry James was-"
"I don't care what your brother was-" Lip cuts himself off as he raises his head to look at Eileen, shocked by what he saw. Eileen's face was almost entirely covered in blood, and so was the front of her quidditch uniform. Her nose was swollen, slightly crooked, and quite clearly broken.
"Eileen, what happened to you?" his tone instantly becoming softer, his annoyance quickly turned to concern as he makes his way over to her.
Eileen's hand instinctively went to her nose, wiping some of the blood from under it, Lip could tell that she was clearly in quite a bit of pain, and was uncomfortable, but she covered it up with a chuckle, "Oh, Quidditch. Sirius accidentally hit me in the face with a bat," she joked.
Lip's annoyance had completely wiped away, as his attention was now entirely on her injury. He reached her and gently pressed down on the area surrounding her nose, "Does this hurt?"
"No, seriously Lip, I'm fine," Eileen argues, but her point is lost when Lip presses closer to her nose, causing her to wince and flinch away from him.
Lip gave her an accusatory look before grabbing her sleeve and pulling her towards the sinks, "Sit there," he states, pointing at the edge of the sink, before turning and making his way into one of the stalls.
Eileen stared after him, confused. She found herself shocked by Lip's change in demeanour. Not once had he ever displayed any form of care or concern towards her, in fact, the two of them had joked about causing or hoping for the other to experience some form of physical pain, and how they would laugh at their discomfort, yet this didn't seem to amuse Lip one bit.
Lip came back out with a bunch of toilet paper in his hands, rolling his eyes when he saw that Eileen was still rooted in place in front of the sinks.
"I thought I told you to sit," Lip sighed, making his way back in front of her.
"Lip I'm not going to sit-" Eileen cut herself off with a small yelp, as Lip placed hands underneath her armpits, lifting her up and placing her on the edge of the sink. Eileen glares at him slightly as he steps between her legs, bringing the toilet paper to her face and wiping away the blood, being as gentle as possible so as to not hurt her any further.
It was silent for a while, Lip was trying not to look at Eileen directly, focusing on wiping the blood from her face, but that was difficult when she was staring at him intensely. Though it wasn't her usual teasing look or glare, it was a look he had only seen from her once before, when she mocked the way that he 'admired' Mandy Milkovich.
"So, how exactly did Black hit you in the nose with his bat," Lip asked, breaking the heavy silence between the two of them.
Eileen laughed slightly, "James has been training us extra hard the past few days, our match against Slytherin is in a month and James always makes us train harder when we're going against Slytherin. He kept calling for overtime for training cause we weren't performing well enough for him, but then I realized I was going to be late, so I attempted to fly over to James to leave early, turns out a bludger was coming at Sirius as I was going past him next thing you know -"
Eileen makes a woosh noise, followed by a smack and a crunching noise, using her hands to visualise what happened.
Elieens extravagant behaviour, for the first time ever, made Lip laugh. Though that was quickly met with a stern look, "You should be more careful, this isn't the first time you've gotten hurt during quidditch, you broke your arm last year when you went against Slytherin,"
Eileen paused, momentarily the genuine concern from Lip still shocking her, "Still, we won that match," she replied, attempting to maintain her usual spirited tone.
Lip chuckled, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, you did. But winning doesn't mean you should disregard your safety. You're a valuable player, Eileen. Gryffindor needs you on the team,"
"Merlin, you sound Remus, wait, You... you think I'm valuable? You watch me play?"
Lip shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "Don't let it go to your head, Potter. I mean, I was watching the game, not you specifically."
A hint of a teasing smile tugged at the corners of Eileen's lips. "Oh, so you weren't admiring my impeccable flying skills, then?"
Lip feigned annoyance, but his eyes sparkled with a newfound warmth. "I suppose you can have that one, Potter. Just this once." Lip said, wiping the last of the blood from her face, "That's all the blood, let me fix your nose too, saves you a trip to Madam Pomfrey,"
Lip stood back a step, pulling his wand from his back pocket, and pointing it at Eileen's nose, "This may hurt a little. Episky!"
Lip waved his wand in a small motion, and with a small crunch and a yelp, Eileen's nose was back in place.
"A little?!" Eileen shouted, rubbing her nose.
"I lied," Lip quipped, giving Eileen a tight-lipped smile. "Right then, you ready to continue this shit?"
"Yeah, we've nearly finished right?" Eileen asked, hopping down from the sink.
The potion was currently a light blue colour, with a strong smell. It had a thick consistency and if you looked hard enough, there were small swirling patterns that somewhat reflected the night sky, within the potion.
All they had left to do was to get the potion to a bluish-purple colour, with blue smoke emanating from it, as well as get it to a silky smooth consistency, which should only take a few more ingredients over the next two days. Once that was achieved, they would be finished.
"Yeah, so let's get this over and done with."
◇◆◇◆
"Right that's it," Ian said suddenly, startling Lip who was reading Quidditch through the ages, "What's going on between you and Eileen?"
Ian and Lip sat in the back corner of the library together, Ian was currently doing practice questions for his History of Magic OWL that Lip had written for him. But he found himself unable to focus, his attention was on the book that Lip was reading. He had never shown interest in Quidditch before, and Ian didn't miss the occasional glace Lip would take across the room.
Sat a few feet from them was Eileen and Remus, who were also studying together and sat close to each other, reading from the same book. Ian had noticed Lip looking in their direction a few times over the past half an hour and there was something in his eyes that radiated jealousy.
"Rowena, keep your voice down why don't you," Lip sighed, "And for your information, nothing, just like I tell you every other time you've asked,"
Ian scoffed at that statement, "Sure nothing, you keep looking at her and Remus, you're reading Quidditch through the ages, you've never cared for Quidditch, and hmm let me think, oh yeah, you and her have been meeting up every day for the past three weeks! The only other time you were doing shit like this is when you were having sex with the Slytherin Skank,"
Lip groaned and rubbed his hand down his face, shutting his book, and leaning closer towards Ian so that they could talk more secretly, "Don't bring her up again, we don't discuss that. There's nothing going on between the two of us, not in the way you think. If you really must know, Eileen and I have been brewing an advanced potion together to get into the Slug Club,"
"The Slug Club? Why would you want to join that?"
"I guess 'cause I can use it to get ahead, put in a good name for myself with some respected wizards," Lip shrugged, though he had almost forgotten about the Slug Club until this conversation.
"Ok? What potion are you brewing?"
"The Wolfsbane potion,"
Realisation suddenly smacked Ian in the face, "Oh,"
"Oh?" Lip asked confused, "What do you mean oh?"
"I really shouldn't say,"
"Dude come on you can't just react that way and not tell me why!"
"Did Eileen put the Slug Club idea in your head?"
"Yeah, why?"
"I don't think this is about the Slug Club for her," Ian sighed.
"What do you mean?"
"Listen I really shouldn't be telling you this, but, I know you'll keep it a secret...Godric I can't believe I'm telling you this, the potion is for Remus," Ian said, instantly regretting the confession.
"For Lupin? Why would Eileen need to brew it for Lupin?" His curiosity now piquing through the roof.
"Godric for a Ravenclaw you are thick, Lip." Ian sighed, hesitating before divulging the information further, lowing his voice even further so that he was now whispering, "Remus is a werewolf,"
Lip's eyes widened in shock, processing the revelation.
Of fucking course! How stupid am I?!
"Fucks sake of course he is," Lip sighed, disappointed in himself that he hadn't seen it sooner, "That explains why she always seems so worried about him,"
"Yeah, she's making the potion in an effort to help him cope."
Lip looked back at Eileen and Remus once more, a wave of understanding washing over him. He suddenly realized his negative feelings towards the girl had almost completely vanished over the past few weeks. When looking at her, he no longer saw the person that he considered his biggest competition, he saw a girl who deeply cared for the people around her.
"Also I just want to point out," Ian said, packing up his stuff, "You called her Eileen when in six years you've only called her Potter. I wonder what changed."
Ian then grabbed the rest of his stuff, and walked out of the library, leaving Lip to figure out his new, unfamiliar feelings towards the girl he had hated for so long.
◇◆◇◆
"Hey, Lip," Eileen said, stirring the potion from her place on the floor.
Lip had sat alone in the library for a long time, so long that he had almost arrived late to meet with Eileen. He was having an internal debate about whether or not he is supposed to continue with Eileen as normal or if he should bring up his new knowledge with her.
And after a long time, he made his decision.
"So, this potion is for Lupin then huh?" Lip asks directly, he never was very good at addressing things lightly.
Eileen doesn't lift her head to look at the boy, who was now standing in front of her, however, her hand stopped stirring immediately and her face significantly whitened.
"How did you find out," Eileen asked, her voice void of emotion as she stared into the potion, refusing to look at Lip.
"Ian told me,"
"He shouldn't have done that," Eileen said, disappointment evident in her voice as she continued to stir the potion, "It wasn't his place,"
"No, I agree, it wasn't," Lip admitted, "Honestly I'm surprised it took him telling me, the signs were there. So I guess all that stuff about the Slug Club was bullshit?"
"You can still try and get in if you want, but, yeah, it was never about that, for me at least."
The two of them stayed there in silence for, what felt like, a long time. Eileen's head was running fast with different thoughts, but the main one was a worry for Remus, there's a reason people with lycanthropy don't share it, Lip could quite literally destroy Remus' life if he wanted, and how could Eileen know that he wouldn't.
"Please don't tell anyone," Eileen whispers, almost so quietly that Lip almost didn't catch what she said.
Lip sighed deeply, sitting on the floor in front of her, looking directly into her eyes, "Eileen, I may be an asshole, but I'm not that much of an asshole. Listen I may not have ever gotten on with you, or your friends, but believe it or not I'm not completely heartless."
"I just...if anyone found out...he's already so stressed and not on the register, his life would be destroyed," Eileen explains, starting to get worked up by the very possibility that Remus' secret could get out, on top of him struggling with his transformations.
Lip placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm. "I get it. Lupin is your friend, and I won't jeopardize that for him. But you need to know something, Eileen. I may have had my issues with you, but I'm not going to try and ruin yours, or your friend's lives. I give you my word, I'll stick to it."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly under his touch, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Eileen's lips, "You had your issues with me?"
Lip rolled his eyes, but didn't try to stop the small smile that tugged on his lips, "You are not as unbearable as I once thought,"
"I appreciate that, Lip. You may not believe it, but you're not as bad as you pretend to be."
"It's a full moon tomorrow isn't it?"
"Yeah, if he takes the potion tomorrow, as he's not used to taking it yet, it will make him behave a little less aggressively, but it won't stop how awful his transformation is,"
"Well, let's get to work then, we have a potion to finish, and a werewolf to help,"
◇◆◇◆
After a few hours, over the course of the afternoon and the next morning, of meticulous measuring, intense concentration, precise mixing and interesting conversations, Lip and Eileen had finally managed to combine the ingredients and adjust the temperatures and timings with utmost precision, resulting in a Wolfsbane potion that shimmered with a bluish-purple hue, emanating delicate tendrils of blue smoke that curled and danced in the air.
And Eileen was quick to give it to Remus the following morning.
◇flashback montage◇
"How do you guys know how bad his transformations are?" Lip questioned, the subject of werewolves interested him, so he was asking Eileen as many questions as he could while trying not to be too invasive.
She turned to Lip, her eyes searching his face for any sign of judgment, "Do promise not to tell a single soul, we could get in a lot of trouble."
Lip raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden seriousness. "Promise, now spill. What's the big secret?"
"We're Animagi,"
Lip's eyes widened in surprise, "Wait, you're telling me that you and the Marauders can transform into animals? Like, on purpose?"
"Yep, James becomes a stag, Sirius transforms into a dog, Peter's a rat, and well...Remus' transformation is exactly voluntary like ours is,"
"So, you're saying you can turn into an animal too?"
Eileen smiled slightly, "A fox, It took a lot of practice and research, but we managed to become Animagi to support Remus during his transformations. It allows us to keep him company and help him control himself, but the wolfsbane will help him even more,"
"That's...incredible," Lip said fascinated.
"You and Ian are some of the only people who know, other than most of the teachers that is,"
"It explains why you've always been so protective of each other, especially Remus."
"Yeah, we look out for each other, it's what friends do."
◇◆◇◆
Eileen stared in amazement as Lip pours the shimmering liquid into a spare potion bottle, that Eileen had stolen from their potions class, admiring his skill and precision. His hands moved with practised ease, his focus unwavering.
"There it is," Lip muttered holding out the bottle to Eileen, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and satisfaction. The potion had transformed into a beautiful shade of bluish-purple, and delicate blue wisps of smoke danced above its surface. It was a truly remarkable sight.
"Lip, we did it! It looks perfect!" Eileen says excitedly, taking the bottle from his hands, continuing to stare at it.
A hint of a proud smile tugged at the corners of Lip's lips. He glanced at Eileen, his eyes gleaming with a newfound respect. "Yeah, Potter, we make a pretty solid team, don't we?"
Eileen's smile grew wider, her gaze never leaving the potion. "We do, Lip. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad we worked together on this."
Lip chuckled, a familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I still think you're a pain in the ass most of the time."
Eileen laughed, her voice filled with genuine amusement. "Likewise, Gallagher. But hey, at least we can brew one hell of a potion together."
◇◆◇◆
Eileen felt a mixture of determination and nervousness as she made her way towards the Gryffindor Common room, clutching the Wolfsbane potion closely. She was excited that the potion could potentially change Lupin's life during the full moon, but nervous as she knew that the potion was not likely to work very well that night, not to mention no matter how grateful he was, he was bound to give her a lecture about being safe and not doing dangerous things to help him.
To her surprise, the common room was occupied only by the Marauders, who were engrossed in their usual banter and mischief. James and Sirius were engaged in a heated game of wizards chess, while Remus and Peter cheered them on and offered sarcastic comments.
Peter was the first to notice the girl, "Hey Copper!"
The rest of the boys also call out their hellos, however, the only other one who actually looks at Eileen is Remus, as James and Sirius had their eyes trained on the chessboard. Remus instantly noticed that something was off about Eileen, as she fidgeted nervously, her arms clearly hiding something behind her back.
Eileen fidgeted nervously, her arms still hiding the potion behind her back. Remus, ever observant, quickly picked up on her unease. "Are you alright, Eileen?" he asked, leaning back on the sofa and studying her with a concerned expression.
"Yeah, I um, have something for you Remus." She says, walking forwards and handing him the large phial. Remus takes it in his hand, analysing it closely, watching as the contents of the phial swirled around and painted an abstract version of the night sky. He then turned the phial over, looking at the handwritten note stuck on it.
'Wolfsbane'
Remus, along with the other Marauders who had now joined his side, stared at it for a few seconds before he finally spoke, "You made this for me?" Remus asked, his voice filled with genuine astonishment.
"Yeah, you've been struggling with them more in the past few months than ever before, I wanted to help make them more bearable,"
"Fucking hell, Eileey!" Sirius said, taking the potion from Remus and looking at it closely, "How long did this take you?!"
"Don't call me Eileey. It took about three, four weeks, never would have done it that quickly without help,"
"Help?" James asked looking up at his sister, curiosity and protectiveness sparking in him, "Wait, who did you make this with?"
"I mean...is it that hard to figure out, you guys have surely noticed who I've been 'sneaking around with the past month,"
The four of them looked at her before realisation suddenly hit, and they all called out, "Gallagher?!"
"Yeah, I mean, he's good with potions, really good, I knew to get it done quickly I would need a partner and, well he was the obvious choice,"
"So you weren't going out for secret duels?" Sirius asked her, almost disappointed.
"Sorry Siri, but no, surprisingly we put up with each other, hell he was the one that fixed my broken nose the other week," Eileen laughed but promptly stopped when she saw the boys shocked faces.
"Eileen, you told me you went to Madam Pomfry," James accused her.
"Yeah I know but I was going to be late, and besides Lip took care of it in no time,"
"Oh, so he's Lip now, huh?" Peter teased.
Eileen rolled her eyes, playfully scolding him, "Shut up, Wormy."
"Eileen this could have been really dangerous," Remus interrupted, still staring at the potion that was now back in his hands, causing everyone to stop teasing Eileen about her storage new friendship with Lip, "This potion's hard to make, you both could've gotten hurt if something went wrong, you could've gotten found out by another student or professor, you took a real risk doing this,"
"Oh shove off Moony!" Sirius says, patting his back roughly, "Think how much better your transformations will, be, we might be able to leave the shack at night now!"
"Eileen, thank you," Remus says, standing and hugging the girl close, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this,"
"Of course, it uh, won't help the transformation tonight as you won't be used to it, but it might make you a little less violent as a wolf," Eileen explains.
"Don't worry, I think I can manage just one more night," Remus chuckled.
As the Marauders exchanged glances, James couldn't help but ask the question on everyone's mind. "So, does this mean Gallagher knows about Moony's furry little problem?"
"He figured it out, yeah," Eileen admits, feeling Remus tense next to her slightly, "But he won't tell anyone,"
"How can you be sure?" Remus asks.
"I trust him, if he really wanted to screw me over, or you, he would have told someone about the potion the moment he found out, but he didn't, he had his chance to take what could have been his ultimate revenge on me, and he didn't.
"I trust him,"
◇◆◇◆
Lip hadn't seen Eileen or the rest of the Marauders that morning. Breakfast was almost over, and not one of them had been seen, making Lip feel increasingly nervous. He couldn't deny that his negative feelings towards Eileen were gone, anymore, he couldn't deny that he cared about her more than he once thought.
He didn't want her to get hurt again.
Even the broken nose was one time too many.
"Hey Ian," Lip approaches his brother, who was sitting with Mickey and Mandy at the Slytherin table, "Have uh, have you seen Eileen?"
Ian looked up at his brother, sensing his unease, before remembering what last night was, "No but she'll probably be in the infirmary, if not the Gryffindor common room, you know the password?"
"Yeah, thanks man," Lip nods before turning and, without wasting another moment, he hurried towards the infirmary. The journey felt agonizingly slow, his concern growing with each passing second.
Finally, Lip reached the infirmary, taking a few moments to catch his breath before opening the door to the infirmary. Four out of five of the Marauders stood at the foot of the bed, watching a figure on the bed, their faces a mix of concern and exhaustion. Remus was out cold, small cuts and bruises littering his body. The other Marauders were each sporting their own minor injuries as well, Sirius and Peter had small bruises on their forehead, James had a bandage on his arm, and Eileen had a cut on her cheek.
Hearing Lip enter, The Marauders turned to face him, leaving a few moments where they all just awkwardly stared at each other, but that was broken when Eileen rushed over to Lip, crashing into him. He welcomed her into his arms, feeling her bury her head into his shoulder.
To the shock of the Marauders, Lip allowed it to happen, wrapping his arms around the girl, pulling her closer when he felt his shoulder getting slightly damp. He didn't like to see her hurt, whether it was physically or emotionally.
"Are you okay?" Lip asked quietly, his voice filled with genuine concern. Eileen nodded against his shoulder, her response barely audible. "Is Lupin okay?"
Eileen pulls back slightly, although the two of them kept their arms around each other, "He should be, the transformation was still...brutal but his behaviour was definitely calmer than normal,"
"That's good then," Lip encouraged, "We knew it wouldn't work perfectly yet, but the fact that there was any improvement is amazing, Eileen you're helping him,"
Eileen looked at him, smiling at him slightly, "Yeah, it just sucks seeing him this way,"
"I know, but hopefully, you won't have too much longer, hang in there," Lip empathized.
A brief moment of levity passed between them as Lip attempted to lighten the mood. "Ugh, it feels weird being nice to you," he jokingly remarked, prompting a gentle laugh from Eileen and even the Marauders who had been listening.
"Oi, Gallagher," James called out, interrupting their moment and making the two look over at him, bracing themselves for a potential confrontation, but there was a small smirk on his face.
"Hands of my sister," he playfully warned, causing Lip to remove his hands, holding them up in surrender, joking back,
"Please, I wouldn't want to touch her with a ten-foot pole,"
janainaart
jacobvanloon
origamiaround
jbbartram-illu
