Tommy Shelby was not prepared for all the things fatherhood had in store for him. Like fighting with an 8 year old about brushing their teeth.
Tommy Shelby & Evelyn Rose Shelby (OC)
This is part of my Evie Verse canon.
Tommy Shelby had a difficult time acknowledging when he was in over his head. Adopting Evelyn Rose Walsh, now Shelby, was one of those moments. Part of him expected it was going to be like Finn, but Polly reminded him not so gently that she was raising Finn and that’s why it hardly felt like work. It wasn’t about feeding her or making sure she was warm with clothes that had no holes, but raising her from the bare bottoms. The girl was taught nothing. Even the things a five year old could handle. Or at least, five year old Tommy. Are children just soft these days? He questioned like the generation before him. It was a right, really.
Tommy sighed, resting his forehead against the bathroom door as he lightly knocked. “Did you brush your teeth?” On the other side of the door, Evie was cladded in her oversized comfy nighty made of wool. The Autumn nights were cold on the second floor. Furthermore, Tommy ran hot at night. She looked at the door and immediately turned on the water.
“Yes, daddy!” she called. Tommy’s lip curled up. She pretended, not liking the taste of the gritty minty paste. She took the metal tube and dabbed a little on the corner of her mouth. Just so he’d see the evidence when tucking her in her bed that she’d only stay in for about a total of ten minutes.
He called a bit louder, hearing the faucet. “Can I come in?” Not hearing her answer, but hearing a lot of feet shuffling, he peeked through the door before slipping in. She was pushing the wooden stool back into its hidden spot. Tommy watched her, a lot softer than he watched many things. “Did you brush your teeth?” he asked again, brows raised.
Her shoulders shriveled up, her cheeks feeling the burn of lying and knowing the truth. She tried to stay hidden, avoiding his eyes. “Mmmhm!” she hummed, scurrying around in the bathroom, fumbling with random things that she had no business fumbling with. Like, changing the bath mat and toilet roll. He watched her, clocking that she lied, but not saying anything. When his partners lie, it feels like a deep pit of betrayal. But this little eight year old? It was a bit humorous. The way she tried to conceal the blush on her chubby cheeks. There were no more fixings to fumble with and Evie pressed her hands on his chest, which he reached up and gently held. “I have to poop! Daddy, you leave!”
“OH?” he laughed, leaning down, trying to match her gaze. She kept turning her head to avoid him, but gently, he pinched her chin to make her face him. Her face scrunched in defeat and long hummmmphf in annoyance rang through the bathroom. Chuckling, his thumb wiped at the spot of crusty toothpaste. “Oh, you did, eh? Brushed your teeth like a good girl, hm?”
“Mmmhm!”
Tommy leaned down, squeezing her mouth open. “You did, eh? Let me smell.” He took two sniffs. “Hmm, I don’t smell mint, Evelyn!” She whined, pulling away, crossing her arms. In a little tantrum, she turned shamefully.
“It tastes yucky!” she said.
Tommy reached for the metal tube and her little toothbrush, squeezing a generous glob across the bristles. “Well,” he hummed in through, screwing the cap on and tossing on the sink before reaching for her. “If it tasted good.” He dragged out the words in thoughts, kneeling and holding her in place with a hand resting on her back. “Open—if it tasted good, you would eat it-”
“No, I wouldn’t,” she argued, stubbornly.
Tommy gave her a look, pausing, that basically said yeah, you would. Before poking her lips with the tooth brush. “C’mon now, love, just two minutes, eh? You don’t want green teeth, do you?”
She narrowed her eyes, and declared, “you win this time, daddy, but tomorrow morning, I’m not brushing my teeth.” With that, she opened her mouth and in went the brush. Usually, she’d scrub as if she was polishing the floor, but Tommy did soft, gentle circles. The strong minty taste stung her taste buds, but worst of all was the gritty texture of the baking soda which did nothing, but send shivers up her spine.
Smiling, he gently said, “soft circles, Evie, one tooth at time.” She’d lost her two front teeth just a month back, and they started to grow with a small gap. When she went for her examination during the adoption process, the dentist noted that she’d have a little gap. And the cute little lisp she had may never go away. For the most part, it was unnoticeable except when she said words with heavy ‘S’s and sometimes the ‘R’s tripped her up. Being a little American girl with a lisp and a Boston twang surely made her a spectacle at times.
As he fought brushing the back gums, Evie tried to say with her mouth wide open. “It burns my tongue!” Specks of toothpaste splattering against his face.
Without missing a beat, he dryly responded, “and my eyes, thank you, my love. Sharing everything.” He pulled away the brush and nodded to the sink. He could barely say rinse before she was doing so.
“Yuck!” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Tommy had grabbed a towel, looking at her, the towel, and then her hand before sighing. He placed it back on the counter.
Tommy reached up, giving her triple kisses on her cheek and then tickled the crook of her neck, the bathroom erupting in giggles. “Are you going to brush your teeth in the morning like I taught you?” When she responded with a simple giggle and shrug, he leaned in, rubbing his nose against hers. “Hmmm? Hmmm?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, knowing damn well Daddy will have to fight her again. Especially on a Monday!
“Alright, love,” he sighed, groaning as he got up, his knees cracking. “Let’s get you to bed, hm? School tomorrow-”
“Why is school always tomorrow?” she grumbled, walking past her room to his. He knew and she knew that she’d only go and cuddle up to him for the night until morning. Except she never slept, only talked and asked all the questions the universe had. And then, only when she was done, she’d drift off to sleep.
Little tag list. I don't know who still likes Evie: @evita-shelby @zablife @cillianmurphysdimples @wonderlanddreamer @hoodeddreams13 @lavender-haze-01 @lovelyalabasterdoll
Please enjoy my first piece of writing in well over a month! <3
The Shelby Undead: An Evie Shelby Halloween Special-Coming September 1st
"Daddy says the only reason we're all alive is cause he made a deal or two with the devil."
At first, they told us it was a form of tuberculous. Then they changed their mind and said it was a type of flu. And before we all could understand, they cut our train tracks, blocked our roads, and declared Birmingham dead with a red 'X'. No one could leave, not even the things that ate us alive.
This is a Peaky Blinders alternate universe where Birmingham becomes ground zero for a mysterious outbreak that makes people less than human. Read as Evie fights to become the final girl.
Paring: Tommy & OC(Evelyn)-Father/daughter bond
Word Count: 3,144
Warning: This story deals with child abuse, trauma, and dark themes. Please be cautioned before reading it
Story Summary: War tainted, Tommy Shelby was slowly losing hope until he found it in the form of a young girl. Evelyn Walsh, just 8 years old, knew far too much about the cruel world they lived in. All she wanted was to be a child and all Tommy Shelby wanted was something to love, care for, and allow him to feel human once again.
This is the origin story of Evelyn Rose Shelby, the adopted daughter of Tommy Shelby.
Chapter Summary: Tommy walks Evie home and comes across the wicked witch herself, Cindy.
Links:
Ao3
Wattpad
As always, comments and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you so much and please enjoy.
Tag list: (If you want to be added or removed, please DM me. @evita-shelby @wonderlanddreamer @zablife @brummiereader @peakyswritings @rei-is-still-here @vivianleighwishesshewasme @littlemiss-arabella @cillianmurphysdimples @lavender-haze-01 @futurefamousdeadmusician @missmomof3 @copinghex
Offering to walk the girl home was questionable. The weather was temperamental, predictably, of course. Tommy sighed, pushing his gloved hands deep in his pockets, turning to the young girl. She had a poor excuse for a coat in the winter air and her feet were bare. Too close to the wet ground. He did his very best to keep at her pace. For every step he took, she took double to keep up with him. “C’mon,” he said, not unkindly, but to hurry it up slightly. But when his eyes glanced down at her, he noticed her face red and nose wet. Sighing, he paused, kneeling to her level. His gloved hands grabbed her face, attempting affection, but from the girl’s sudden wince, he cursed himself for being so rough. He loosened his grip, sighing, “where are your shoes?” She puffed out her cheeks, diverting her eyes off to the side, staring off in the distance. Tommy tapped her cheek. “Eh!? I asked, where are your shoes, eh? Your shoes! The things you wear on ya’ feet, hm?”
The raise of his voice startled her enough that she took a few steps back, whimpering. The man she’d felt so safe with suddenly held up to his reputation. Evie pushed his hands away and booked it up the dimly lit street. Tommy stayed kneeling for a moment, murmuring, “fookin’ ‘ell.” Standing, he beckoned her back. “Oi! C’mere, hm? Your feet! You can’t walk in the rain with no shoes-oi!”
The girl turned, looking at him cautiously before folding her arms over her chest. “We’re friends, Mr. Shelby! But ya’ yellin’ at me! Friends don’t go yellin’ at friends-”
“Yelling?” he hollered back, baffled. He muttered, scratching the back of his head. “I wasn’t yelling.” Shaking it off, he let out a long sigh of frustration. “I’m sorry, alright? No more yelling, now come back here.”
“And you be a bit bossy, too!”
Tommy brows raised, “what?” Under his breath, he said, “I’ll show you fookin’ bossy.”
“Yeah, bossy. I dun like that very much.” He had to admit it, the girl sized him up better than most men his age. At that, he cracked a smile, chuckling to himself and rubbing his furrowed brow line. The little girl stood with a puffed chest and pouty lip. Tommy took gentle strides to her, outreaching his hand to gently hold her arm.
Grabbing it without squeezing too hard, he directed her up the street. He promised not to yell anymore or be too bossy, which baffled him. He never considered himself at that moment bossy or yelling. “Do you want me to carry you?” he asked, not liking that she was walking the dirty Birmingham streets with no shoes. Knowing what was on the ground made him wince for her; piss, spit, city groot, and whatever else. Tommy waited for no answer and picked the girl up, allowing her to relax her sleepy head on his shoulder. Her arms and legs clung to him, and she snuggled so deep into his body that she felt this feeling of never wanting to let go. Smoke, rum, a woodsy aroma. That was his scent. Evie took in the hugest whiff to mark it forever in her memory just in case. Just in case that it’d be the last moment she’d ever see her friend, Thomas Shelby, again.
Just as he turned up her road, Evie felt her eyes get heavy. He was too comfy not to fall asleep in, but he had to let her down so they could walk up to the flat. It was a run down building that most would find hardly livable. “Lead the way,” he said, nodding up the stairs and her tired little legs climbed up and up until they reached her flat. It was a tiny, worn down thing, and the lock on the door hardly worked. Tommy knocked.
From the other side, there was cursing and grumbling. It sounded like a man and a woman fighting. Tommy pushed his ear up to the door, and narrowed his eyes to Evie, who just shrugged. “Mama don’t like when people interrupt her business.”
“Yeah, well,” he sighed, pursing his lips, backing from the door. “Business has to be interrupted sometimes.” They were going at it; Cindy and the man. You said you got no fookin’ boyfriend-I don’t sleep with no fookin’ slag whores with fellas. Tommy quickly wrapped his arm around the girl’s head, blocking her ears and pressing her to his side. I don’t got no fucking man, I told you! Fucking get your hand off me-it’s the last time I’m paying for your fookin’ hollowed out cunt. Tommy cursed and pounded the door harder. “Oi!” he yelled, stress lines forming along his forehead and mouth,
From the other side, Cindy fought with her robe, naked underneath wearing only the grime and dirt from her work. And the man wrestled with his trousers and shirt, showing no decency in how he appeared. “Hold your fuckin’ ass, I’m comin’!” From across the hall, an elderly lady peeked out and Evie smiled.
“She’s always yelling, that one! Has men in and out faster than a bank, I tell you!” Tommy turned and nodded, unsure of what to say. The elderly woman tightened her robe and pointed to Evie. “That one is always out all hours of the night! Causing a ruckus.”
Tommy looked down at Evie and smiled, mouthing, “a ruckus, eh?” His thumb caressed her cheek as he looked at her, his eyes twinkling with something rare for him; affection. The elderly woman hung around, waiting for the ruckus to continue, but Tommy suggested she go back inside. “You don’t want it to escalate.” When the door opened, Tommy kept his cool composure, but on the inside he cursed. Had this little one been exposed to such grotesque indecency?
Cindy stood there, leaning on the door frame with a cigarette between her fingers. Her face was strained. A very hollow looking woman, he had noticed. Far too thin and ragged with stress lines beyond her age. His eyes skimmed over her, her body exposed to him. It reeked of sex. Dirty, vile, filthy sex, and if his eyes weren’t mistaken, there were cum trails between her thighs. When he didn’t say anything, Cindy barked, “well? What the fuck do you want? One shilling for thirty minutes, two for the full hour-”
“She’ll fuck ya’ over, though!” the man yelled, grabbing his wallet from the table. Tommy peered around her, jaw tightening. The man hardly cared to button up his trousers and if one wanted to, they could see his cock outlined in his underwear. For fucks sake, he mumbled under his breath, finding himself pulling the girl closer to himself. Tommy pulled them out of the way so the man could get by.
Cindy cursed him, glaring as he rushed down the stairs. When they were through hearing his bickering echoing up the stairwell, she faced Tommy, smirking a tad, “though for a man like you, I can offer something special-come in.” She purred, grabbing his free arm. He flinched away.
“Are you missing something?” he asked, a strain in his voice, and Cindy paused. “Hm? And fix your fucking robe!”
“Excuse me?” she snorted, tightening it so he no longer saw her body. Her eyes dropped down, and Tommy felt nauseous at the way her facial expression darkened. Her eyes narrowed in a seething, dark manner and her nostrils flared. With her claw-like hands, she dug her fingers in Evie’s shirt, peeling her off Tommy. He wanted to pull her back knowing that when he left, the poor girl would have nothing to protect her. She cried out, her chubby little hands clinging to his trousers. “Evelyn Kathleen Walsh!” she yelled, kneeling and roughly gripping her jaw. Tommy winced, seeing her nails dig into the girl’s cheeks. “Where the fuck were you? Huh?” She shook Evelyn’s face. “I told you to stay in the fucking apartment! And look what you did? Caused issues-”
“She was no issue,” Tommy said, speaking up, resting his hand on Cindy’s. He pushed it down to ease up on Evie’s jaw. “Really. I found her lost around my stables and I brought her back.” Cindy calmed, standing, nodding for Evie to head in. She pouted, looking up at Mr. Shelby.
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, not wanting to share him with her. She started to walk in the flat, and turned to look at him once more, offering a smile through pain. Tommy tilted his head to her, mouthing goodnight. Mouthing back, she said, “goodnight.”
Cindy yelled over her shoulder, “wash up and get to fucking bed! I don’t want to hear that fucking bitch at your school about missing another day, you hear? Giving me goddamn shit because you can never do nothing fuckin’ right.” Her body leaned lazily on the frame, her legs folded as she enjoyed her cigarette. Ash flickered everywhere. “Fucking kids, you know?”
Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes. “Right, kids.”
“You got any?” she asked, looking at him. “Children? I bet a fine man like you has a few. Married to some uppity house wife, stuck in some sexless marriage. Why else would you be hanging around here?” Tommy let her speak, keeping his blank expression firm. “Hm? I could fix that for you.” Her head nodded back. “She’ll knock out in a few minutes-won’t hear a thing.” He looked in the flat, counting two doors.
“Only one bedroom?” he said.
“One bed-look, if you want a high priced whore, you don’t come around here-”
“I’m not looking for a whore,” he said. “I came to return your child-”
“Evs can find her own way back,” she said. “She’s surprisingly good at directions. Can’t fucking get her to cook a damn thing or clean-”
“You should go tuck her in,” he interrupted, taking a step back and tilting his hat, not caring to bid her a proper farewell. In his line of work, foul men were plenty, but he never saw a bitch so disgraceful. Cindy watched him turn and walked down the stairs, nursing his own cigarette to shake off the nerves.
When the cool air hit him, he looked up. The little one was staring down at him, waving, wearing a large smile. He smiled back, trying to hide the pain and worry he felt. Taking off his hat, he waved it, winking. The little one felt so much love looking at him. Her smile was so big, her cheeks balled up like a chipmunk. But it dropped when she looked over her shoulder and quickly closed the window, drawing the curtains. “Fucking hell,” he whispered to himself.
The next day, she took her drawing book to the canal, skipping off school. Stuffed in her pocket was some stale bread. Her little duck friends knew to join around her because she always had a thing or two for them. She sat, legs crossed. “Okay, one for you, Poe,” she said, letting the duck eat from her hand. “And one for you, and one for you.” Left in her hand was a small bit and she put it in her mouth. “And one for Evie.” She started to set up her ‘station’ of a notebook and some crayons. One of the ducks walked over it, and she whined, “Quakers! No! We have business to do.”
She started to draw. Now, the little one was no artist. Her drawings weren’t going in a gallery, but she loved it anyway. She started with a girl wearing a school uniform, humming to herself. When she finished the hair, she said, “this is Evie!” Next, she drew three happy ducks. “Quakers, that is you!” She lifted the picture and squinted. “Hmmm!” She looked back at the duck and back at her painting. “I didn’t get your good angle…I’m sorry.” And that is Poe and this is Diddle because he has a brown spot on his mouth.
Right next to her, holding her hand, she drew a man with a flat cap hat, and above him she wrote Mr. Shellbee. And when she was done, she tucked away her supplies. “Okay, fellas, I have to go, but I’ll bring ya’ something tomorrow!” The ducks walked around here, occasionally plucking at the ground for anything they could find. Evie turned her jumper pockets inside out to brush out the crumbs before skipping off.
The Garrison wasn’t too far off, but by the time she got there, she was winded. It was the pub she saw him come out of the day prior. With no mind, she pushed open the doors and rushed in, looking around. It was hitting noon time, and only a few men lingered about. All perked and looked at the girl, and the man at the bar called to her, leaning over the counter with folded hands. “Oi! This isn’t no place for no little girls, yeah!” Evie looked over at him, frowning. “What do you want?” he asked, not unkindly, wiping his hands on his apron.
She hopped to the bar, and kneeled on the stool to see properly over the bar. “I’m looking for Mr. Shelby-”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Which one?”
“There’s more?!” Blinking, she looked around before getting out her drawinging. Grunting as she flattened it out. Along the journey, it had gotten a little crinkled. I should have kept it in my drawing book. “That one!” she pointed and the gentleman squinted, making a face. Before him was a stick figure wearing what he assumed to be a three piece suit, a flat cap, and a cigarette between his fingers.
“Hmm, well, I don’t know,” he said, holding the picture up and looking around at the back. On a table, there was a man slouched, already too many drinks in. “Is it that one?”
Evie shook her head, giving him a look. “Nuh uh!” Motioning to the picture, she added, “does he look like he has a mustache?”
“I suppose not,” he replied, chuckling to himself. “You stay right there, hm? I’ll be right back.” The girl had a little spunk to her, he’d give her that. He put the picture down and went in the back. She heard some talking and through some double doors, Mr. Shelby came through and she slid off the chair.
“Mr. Shelby! Mr. Shelby!” she yelled, clinging the picture to the chest. Tommy kneeled, meeting the girl to eye level. “I made you this-”
“What are you doing here?” he asked, hands on her shoulders. Evie froze, her heart shrinking just a tad as she watched the lines in his face stress. He was giving her a hardened look and the pressure on her shoulders wasn’t so nice, either. She went small; quiet and her face dropped all signs of happiness. Tommy admitted to himself, seeing that girl pout like that, looking at him like she did that wretched woman, made him feel ill.
“I’m sorry,” she said, folding the picture and tucking away under her jumper. Tommy eased up, bowing his head slightly.
“The pub isn’t safe for girls,” he said, relaxing his expression, his hand cradling her cheek. It was cold; rosy red and flushed. Her little nose dribbled, and he wasn’t sure if she was trying to sniff it back up or stop herself from crying. In his pocket was a clean handkerchief. Plucking it out, he dabbled around her nose before squeezing lightly. Helping a child blow the snot from her nose wasn’t on his list for the day, but there they were. “Blow, come on, blow it out!” Evie puffed out her cheeks and blew her nose while Tommy cleaned it up. Folding it up, he tucked it away.
“I drew you a picture,” she said, having a hard time looking at him. He smiled, leaning his face in, tilting it up to catch her eyes. His hands fell to her arms, rubbing circles with thumbs. She took it out and unfolded it. “I don’t like it. I forgot Mr. Shelby’s horse-”
Before she could hide it away, Tommy took it, holding it with a firm grip. It was a lovely picture, he thought. Really captured his personality with the cigarette and the stress winkles. He pointed to the ducks, “and those are your friends.”
“Yeah,” she said, leaning on him to look at the picture with him. “And me and you. And in the back is the beach and bridge.” Tommy snorted that the thought of the canal being considered a beach.
“Well, it doesn’t need the horse,” he said, deciding as he tucked it away. “He doesn’t like his picture drawn anyway. Has too many bad angles.” As he stood, he groaned, stretching a bit before kindly placing his hand on her back, pushing her towards the door. “Now, Evelyn, you shouldn’t come in here, understand?”
She pouted, stopping right before he could shove her out. Looking up at him with round eyes. “But we’re friends. How can I see you?” Tommy’s brows raised and hummed, thinking back to the previous night. He settled with, you can always run to the stables. Even when I’m not there, I’m always in the stables. Her mouth gaped and her eyes balled. Leaning in, she whispered, “Sister Stefana says ghost talk ain't so nice. You talkin’ the devil that way, Mr. Shelby.”
He pinched her chin, amused. “I think the Devil’s too scared to come to Birmingham.”
“Some people say you’re the Devil, but I don’t think the Devil kisses his horses like you do-”
“Well, to be the Devil, you have to be an angel. I don’t think I was ever one of those.”
Evie giggled and motioned for him to get real close, to put his ear to her mouth. She cupped her mouth and whispered, “do you also steal the loose jellies from the sweets shop?”
Exaggerating, Tommy widened his eyes and gave her a shocked look with a gasp. “Do you!?” Evie laughed and put her finger to her lips. With a pointed look, he said, “you better be careful, eh? Now, go on, hm? Be a good girl!” Opening the door, he watched as she ran off. This time in shoes, but they were ragged and torn. Probably she would have been just well off barefoot. Tommy kept his gaze on her until she was no longer in sight. “Ah, fucking hell,” he whispered, not cursing, but just as a release of emotions. He turned, scratching the back of his neck and when he looked up, John and Arthur were giving him quite a look of perplexity. He dropped the soft face and barked, “fuck off, eh? Believe it or not, I do have more ranges of emotions than a wall fly!”
Tommy Shelby gets a rather interesting painting done of Evelyn, his most precious and loved daughter. Though, it seems he's the only one to fully appreciate it.
"Daddy's gone mad," Evie hollered, walking through the foyer of Arrow house. Her arms up in the air, seemingly talking to herself, not realizing her family were there, conversing. "He's gone bloody fuckin' mad!" They watched her walk through towards the kitchens before turning to one another.
Ada slowly peered in the direction of Tommy's office. "He is being quiet, isn't he?" Polly sighed, pushing by, her heels clicking against the tile floor. Ada waited hesitantly for a moment before following close behind.
Tommy sat in his leather holstered chair, leaned back, and swirling his whiskey neat. He'd been looking off, lovingly with adoration and admiration in his eyes. Polly pursed her lips and followed his gaze, expecting nothing, but it was something. Her mouth dropped, eyes mooned. Nailed to the wall was a little bit more than a 'wee portrait', but an obnoxious monstrosity almost worthy of being in the Louvre for its size alone.
Just above the fire placing was a mantel, already adorned with all things Evelyn. School pictures and trinkets. All he ever wanted was a painting because all beautiful, lovely things deserved to be expressed in art. Ada looked over her aunt's shoulder, her face skewing, appalled. Before either could comprehend or form a single thought, Tommy said, "she's the most beautiful girl."
Polly let out a dry, surprised laugh. "That's-it's -"
Ada finished her sentence, "a bit big and a bit - Thomas, why is Evie painted like that?" Never had the girl, or any girl they knew for that matter, dressed like that. A story book version of what the world thought of Romani girls. Adorned in gold, scarves, and clothing of vibrant colors. Surely, she looked beautiful. Ada wouldn't deny her that, but it was...questionable? Never mind just big. Very obnoxiously big. She wondered if it was, in a way, Tommy's idea of solidifying Evie in their family's culture. It was 'bad' enough that they weren't fully Romani, but a mix. Evie, however, was a complete outsider that many of their counterparts wouldn't touch with a fifty foot pole.
A princess, he called her, studying the painted gold necklaces. Turning to Ada and Polly, he tilted his glass towards the portrait. "No, a Queen. She'd be their fucking queen and what more would they have to say, hm?"
Polly let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Thomas!" Motioning towards the painting, she asked "why? How are you ever going to explain this? Beside, where the fuck would you fit Charlie and Ruby? Hm? Your two other children-"
"That wasn't a possibility that crossed my mind, but I suppose when they start bringing absolute joy and happiness, they too will be painted-"
"Thomas Michael Shelby, don't you think this is a bit embarrassing for Evie?" Polly pressed.
Tommy hummed, polishing off his drink. "Well, it was either here or in my bedroom across my bed. I suppose I could move it-"
"I'm sure Lizzie would love that, yes, Tommy," Ada said.
And Tommy turned to Ada and asked, "why would Lizzie have any opinion?"
Before either could answer, Arthur walked in, mumbling greetings before his eyes caught the portrait. His eyes narrowed, darkening a little. Scratching the back of his head, he studied the features thinking back to his childhood. "Is that the witch Mum used to tell us about.... The pretty one that'd curse us and claw-"
"Arthur," Ada stopped him, placing her hand on his arm. "That's Evie."
Arthur immediately fixed himself, straightening his jacket and clearing his thoughts. "Oh? Oh. Well, um, that's...Tommy, do you still have the receipt?"
Above is her registration form and school schedule along with her year 4 school picture. Of course, not everything is historically accurate. Please enjoy! Click on the picture for larger print. Next will be her year 4 grades by semester and school lunch rotation.
Chapter Summary: Tommy didn't think twice about the girl with ragged clothes and broken shoes. Girls like Evie weren't a rarity in Birmingham. But what happens when little Evie breaks into the Shelby stable?
Word Count: 3,675
Warning(s): Mention of abuse, mention of drugs(once), mention of alcoholism, poverty, neglect, prostitution.
Links:
->Wattpad
->Ao3
If you enjoyed this chapter, please reblog and leave a comment. I'd like to hear what you think.
The little girl pounded pavement with her broken sole shoes. The rain from that morning soaked through to her lace trimmed white socks. Birmingham puddles were like any other city puddles; filled with grime and soot. They blackened her socks and made her feet all pruny. She looked behind her, and on her tail were three boys. They were the rascals that lived in the tennant housing across the street, but because they had dads that could afford hot water, Evie was below them. Under her arm was tucked her sacred little drawing book that held all her secrets in images. She tried to quicken her pace, feeling her lungs burn and her legs get wobbly. Without thinking, she darted between two buildings, but she found herself at a dead end. The boys’ laughter grew louder and their running slowed as they approached the dead alleyway.
Evie tried to tuck herself behind the trash, but they could easily spot her glancing over. Stinky Evie, stinky Evie. That’s what they’d call her. Every single day it was stinky Evie, stinky Evie. Nothing original, nothing she wasn’t already aware of. Her hair was never kept, her clothing was hardly washed between uses, and dirt always rested under her nails. None of the girls at school wanted to play with her and the nuns gave her blatant looks of disgust.
The bigger of the three boys stepped forward, a snide smirk on his face. Evie never understood their distaste for her. Their shoes had holes, too. Evie coward, clinging to her drawing book. “Stinky Evie,” he said, and the other two boys follow suit. She attempted to push further back, but the brick wall left no more room. All the poor girl could do was pray. They boys shared elbow nudges, silently agreeing on the next step when the boy said, “you look like a girl, but you stink like a pig.”
“Ugly like one, too,” the other boy said, spitting. It nearly landed on her and when she tried to wiggle away, whining and grunting, the front boy kicked her legs.
The third boy laughed. “Uglier than one and your mum’s a filthy whore-”
“That gets paid shite to fuck pigs-”
“Leave me alone!” she yelled, kicking her feet. “Just leave me alone.” But poor Evelyn Walsh was smaller than all the other kids, especially the boys. They easily overpowered her, keeping her in place as they hovered over her. Her fingers clutching tightly against her drawing book that had already seen too much. “Give it back!” She tugged as hard as she could, the spine weakening anymore. In the rustle and tussle, pages tore and fell out, landing in muddy alley grime. “It’s mine, it’s mine!”
The larger boy yelled, “they ain’t nothing special. My arse can do better.” Her fingers slipped and the book was in their hands. She sobbed a bit, sniffling and choking. It was the last of it; all she had besides three broken pencils. Their dads could afford wooden train sets and balls, her mom could only afford what made her own brain sane; alcohol and the white stuff that left nasty residue on the dinner table. The boys sarcastically hummed, flipping through the pages that fell from the spine before running off with it yelling in unison, stinky Evie, stinky Evie.
Evie watched as they disappeared. Her chin numbed a bit as she tried to fight back all the crying she wanted to do. Her drawing book. The only thing I have-had. She slowly stood from her spot as the sun started to leave, and a purple-orange haze took over. Her mother would start to wake up for her work and if Evie wasn’t home-well, it depended. Sometimes Cindy Walsh wouldn’t notice and other days she would. But in the rare case that she would, Evie hurriedly along, trying to sing herself out of sadness. And despite the water seeping to her feet, she danced in every puddle that said ‘hi’ on her way. It wasn’t a long walk, but it always felt long because everything was so in reach, but not obtainable. Like the warm places, the bakeries and restaurants that sold warm food. Or how she’d see pretty dresses in the window and Mary Jane shoes that didn’t have broken soles.
She paused at a boutique, pressing her hands against the window. It was closed for the evening, but just on the other side of the glass were shoes. As her feet shivered in her dirty socks, unshielded from her shoes, a nice, pretty new pair were right before her eyes. Evie never believed she could be like other girls. The girls that wore bows in their hair and had pretty coats. Or the white gloves that matched their mother’s. When she tucked her hands in her pockets, on the window glass rested two handprints. A memory of her wants and desires. She continued onward, trying her best to keep her nose down. The more she smelled the stench, the less she smelt the food.
It was nearing six at night. Pubs were bustling and jazz clubs were starting to open, restaurants were welcoming people. The streets cleared of school children, and filled with those running home from work or chiming with glee as the nightlife took over. At home, all that was waiting for her was a piece of stale bread and porridge.
She was in her own thoughts, weaving in and out of people who hardly noticed she was there. But above all the clatter, in the distance she heard laughter. She paused and saw the three boys. They were sharing a smoke that they probably bummed from the bins. In their hands was her drawing book. Her breath hitched, and quickly she scanned for cover. But just as she was about to dodge, the boy that led the pack spotted her. Evie cursed and ran, weaving in and out of crowds until they had met her on her side of the street.
“Where ya’ goin’, stinky Evie?” One hollered, and she wasn’t even sure who. Their voices all blended after a while. Stinky Evie, stinky Evie. Your mum’s a whore.
She kept running, hearing their chants until they stopped and the footsteps stopped. Except her’s, they kept going until her body banged into something much sturdier. “Oof!” she yelped, falling to the ground. The three boys were behind her, but none of them said anything. Evie looked at what she bumped into and what she saw were a pair of legs. That of which she followed up until meeting the eyes of an older man in a neat three piece suit. Between his gloved fingers, he held a smoke up to his lips and inhaled. His expression was neutral and unassuming, but every one that walked by seemed to regard him. Evie crawled back a bit, cowering under his stare. They were outside a pub that glistened with drunk laughter and cheers. Mostly men. No, only men. There wasn’t a single female laugh in the mix.
His eyes shifted to the boys and nodded, “you boys up to something, eh?” Evie turned to look at them. All three stiffened like soldiers in boot camp. They shared looks before mumbling a stream of no, sir. No, Mr. Shelby. Nu uh, Mr. Shelby. He nodded and looked back down at Evie. “What about you, eh? Behaving yourself?” He outreached his gloved hand and she met it, feeling him tug her to her feet. He looked over the girl in pity and back at the boys.
In a small voice, Evie said, “can you get my drawing book? They took my drawing book.”
His eyes raised and he nodded to the boys, who then presumed guilty stances. Pointedly, he asked, “you boys steal this girl’s drawing book?” Evie was so shocked as to how much hold this man had over them. She watched as they swallowed, nearly pissing themselves. One nodded. “Give it back, eh? What fathers teach their sons to push around a little girl, huh?” The boys immediately handed it to her. The man tilted his chin. “Now fuck off, eh? Yer mums probably done with dinner about now.”
When the boys left, Evie slowly looked up at the man, blinking before widening her smile. “Thank you, sir.”
He nodded, tilting his hat. “Go on home, yeah? It’s getting late. You bastards shouldn’t be on the street at this time.” With that, he left her there with her drawing book. The next time those boys saw her, they ran off, wanting nothing to do with the girl that Mr. Shelby helped.
Evie got home. As she always did, she opened the door slowly and peaked in first to scope out the situation. Then slipped in, closing the door for it’d make nothing more than a slight click. As she kicked off her shoes and shoes, a groan came from the bedroom. She paused to listen. Cindy had just woken up a few minutes prior. Evie went to the sink, filling her glass with water when her mother groaned out, “Evs?” Her eyes shot to the door. Immediately, she felt this utter dread. Her mother slipped from their one bed, and walked from their room. Yawning, groggily looking around and running her eyes, she said, “Evs?” She swung her house coat over her cotton slip.
“Yes-”
“You know, you don’t have to fucking bang shit around when you want water,” she said, sighing. Evie yelped slightly as her mother pushed her off to the side as she got down a coffee cup. Her stomach cramped as she watched her mother slowly look at the moka pot. Irritated, she picked it up and flipped it over before tossing it back on the counter. It banged with a clang and Evie jumped back as he mother glared at her, “what the fuck, Evs, you could have made me a fucking cup of coffee.” She scratched irritatedly at her scalp, shaking her head. “I don’t ask you to anything for me, but I work my fucking ass off to support us and…fuck!” Her eyes drifted to the clock.
Evie quickly scrambled to get the moka pot going and pulled out a chair for her mother. “I’m sorry, mama. After school I went to see if the ducks were in the canal. Of course they weren’t, but I wanted to see them because, Mama, they’re…they’re…they’re my friends. But they weren’t in the canal. Sister Esther says ducks don’t have friends, but I think they do. But anyway, then I started skipping puddles, but then these real mean boys found me and chased me. They stole my drawing book. But mama!” She turned to her mother with wide eyes. The woman had already resorted to sinking in the chair, rubbing her temples.
She rolled her eyes and looked at the girl. “Yeah?”
Evie laughed as she stood on the chair to grab something from the cabinet. “There was a real classy looking man and he got my drawing book back-”
“And was he rich?” she asked, almost sarcastically as she grabbed a cigarette and lit it.
Evie thought for a moment, noting how her and her mother’s idea of rich were very different. Evie saw food and clothes as wealthy, and her mother? Saw luxuries that no one could take six feet under. Evie supposed by her standards, yes, he’d be rich. “I think so…a real handsome looker, too. Not like your boyfriends, mama.”
She let out a long sigh before slipping from the chair and closing herself back into the room. Cindy Walsh was born in Boston in 1895. It was a cold winter, and the running idea in the family was, the blizzard must have frozen her heart. Unlike her family, Cindy was always unpredictable and self-motivated. Evie looked at the closed door wondering what she did, but if only there was someone to tell Evie that she hadn’t done anything, but be a child who yearned for a mother who cared.
She finished making her mother’s coffee when Cindy exited the room wearing a different set of night clothes with her hair pinned. Just as she grabbed the cup and placed her lips on the rim, the door called for her; a loud, rapid knock. As Cindy would call them, one of her boyfriends arrived. Normally she’d add a joke. Maybe this one will be rich and buy us shit.
Evie watched as a tall, but aging man walked in. They neither spoke or hugged like Evie would imagine boyfriend-girlfriends doing. Simply, Cindy held his hand and brought him to the bedroom. The man hardly noticed the young girl soaking her break in water to soften it. But Cindy looked at her and placed her fingers to her lips. “In here,” she told the man. “And please make yourself comfortable.” But he was familiar with her. Evie could tell by the way he walked. He knew their small flat.
At the table, Evie tried to ignore the giggles and whispers of ‘mean nothings’, but pretending to be ‘sweet somethings’. She dipped her bread in the water and suckled at its crust, hoping for it to soften. But she got just a few bites in before the noises began. She hated the noises. They were awful noises and they were to happen all night. One boyfriend after the other. Evie frowned and slipped from her chair, grabbing her coat and slipping on her shoes, disregarding the sock. And even though it was dark, she slipped out the door and went for the streets.
There was nowhere she could go. The library was closed and her empty pockets hardly permitted her entry to any place. Besides, who would want a stinky kid in their place of business? Evie walked along the lonely pavement, kicking street rubbish as she hummed. Everyone had someone, but Evie. She thought about a lot of things to prevent herself from crying. Usually the ducks that sometimes occupied the canal or the funny things Father Michael would say at school mass. She walked down a long dark road. The stench of manure and hay tickling her nose, causing her to sneeze. But off in the distance, there was a glimpse of something that made her smile. Stables. Stables? Had she walked that far? She looked behind her before deciding she didn't care. She ran until she was met with a lock and chain.
Frowning, she sighed, plopping herself on the crates before grinning. She stacked them on top of one another before she reached the gap between the roof and the wooden door. It’d hurt, but it felt warm. The horses on the inside looked over, making a slight fuss in their pods. There were two or so…Evie couldn’t count well. She whined as she wedged herself in and plop! “Ow!” She whined, meeting the ground. She laid there for a moment, groaning as her little body ached. Slowly, she gathered herself on her feet and looked around, eyes landing on a black horse. She grabbed a crate and stood on it, outreaching her hand to touch its nose. She nervously hesitated, but the horse huffed and nodded, leaning its head forward to meet her hand. Evie’s heart fluttered, and slowly, she smiled. The nose was cold, but everything felt warm. For the first time, something introduced her to unconditional affection.
Evie laughed, looking around to get something to feed it. In a bucket of slop, there was a somewhat rotten carrot. She hopped from the crate and grabbed it. Her eyes scanned over it and she sighed, “you’re eating better than me, tonight.” She climbed back up and put it to his lips. The horse generously took a bite and Evie pulled it back. “I suppose we can share.” Evie took a bite of carrot. Of course, one would never suggest sharing food with a horse. Especially a carrot that’d been laying in a pocket of other food waste. It tasted repulsive, but she focused on the only bit of sweetness the carrot had left over. One bite for her, a big bite for him. All the while, her hand was stroking his cheek.
“You’re nicer than my school friends,” she whispered, touching her cheek to his and closing her eyes. “But I don’t think my school friends like me very much…only Quack, Diddle, and Poe. Those are the ducks that I am friends with. They like seeds and grapes. I don’t like raisins. I eat them sometimes…You know, I don’t think I could imagine you eating raisins with your big teeth.” Evie pulled back and eyed the horse, pinching its lip and pulling it up to look. The horse didn’t like that very much, scoffing. Saliva and snot sprayed against her face, and she whined. “Hey!” Evie wiped her face against her sleeve before giving the horse a look. “You’re lucky I can’t be picky with my friends….”
The lock on the stable clicked open. But Evie had been so distracted by the very large animal before her. She combed its mane, giving him nose kisses. The man walked in and paused, surprised to see a young girl there. He looked around, calculating how she could have gotten in. His eyes scanned over her, making note of her impoverished appearance. Slowly, he moved forward, watching her antics. Normally, he would have been angered, but what could a little girl do? Maybe a lot seeing as she slipped in the stable without even unlocking the door. He drew an inhale from his smoke before reaching her. His eyes followed how sweetly her hand tended to his horse’s affection, and he smiled thinking of his youth. His first horse and how amazed he was by it. Just like her. His gloved hand met her’s and guided it. “Like this,” he said softly.
When Evie felt his hand touch her own, she jumped from the crate, feeling her heart pound against her chest. She moved back, swallowing. Her eyes drifted to the stable door and to him. It had been the man from earlier. “I-I’m sorry-”
“Come here,” he told her, softly. He ignored the panic in her voice, clearly startled from his sudden appearance. Perhaps she thought she’d get into trouble for trespassing. She nodded, hoping back on the crate, his gloved hand took hers. “Give me your hand.” He brought her small hand in his hand up to the horse’s nose, softly guiding her how to pet. “There you go,” he whispered, looking at her. She smiled in a dream and her hand went along with his. His direction turned back to the horse as he asked, “how did you manage to get in here?” There was no tone of annoyance or anger, just curiosity. When she had told him, he was equally impressed and worried. “You shouldn’t do that. You could have gotten hurt-”
“I didn’t,” she said with a shrug.
He let out a sigh, tongue swiping at his bottom lip. There were so many questions he wanted to ask her, but the girl looked so happy. He recognized that happiness. It was the type that only came with sadness. This was a moment for her. Something to overshadow what was in the background. In sacrifice of his own curiosity, he dropped it. “What is your name?”
Without looking at him, she replied, “Evelyn-”
“And your last?” Walsh. When she asked for his name, she already knew what the folk called him. It was Mr. Shelby. And when he said that, she looked over at him with a grin, shaking her head. She requested his real name. His brows arched and he smiled. “That is my real name.”
“No,” she laughed.
“No!? And what do you mean by real name, eh?”
“The name your mama calls you when she’s mad at you…I get Evelyn Walsh, you come here right now-and she stomps her feet like this….” He laughed at her and let out a sigh.
“Well, if I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else, okay?” He leaned in real close, and put his gloved finger to his lips then to hers. She nodded and widened her eyes. “Thomas. But you have to call me Mr. Shelby-”
“Always?”
“Every single time,” he said, nodding to her before looking back at his horse. She asked the horse’s name. “What do you think it is?” And she shrugged. “Well, what would you name him?”
That is when her face went real bright. “Oh, jeez, well I dunno know, Mr. Shelby. I don’t know his personally! You see, I named Quacker at the canal Quacker because he makes the most fuss and Poe…he looks like how I imagine a guy named Poe would look-”
“Who?”
“The ducks,” she explained. “They’re my only friends.” Tommy hadn’t felt much since the war, but his smile slipped from his face and he swallowed, feeling something for the girl. His hand rested affectionately on her head, patting it. She noticed his frown and smiled, “but it’s okay. The ducks at least are kind to me. They’re good friends, Mr. Shelby. Like your horse. Can he be my friend, too?”
He let out a small laugh, and gave her a short nod. “Sure.”
“And you, Mr. Shelby, are you my friend?”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ll be your friend. Now, it’s getting real late. Where are your parents? You should get home.” He already knew. Tommy knew too much about life to allow pieces to go unconnected. Evie got real quiet again and went back to the horse. Mama’s working with her boyfriends. He understood and asked for no more explanation. The poor girl was a mess. He studied everything from the ragged clothing, her matted hair, the dirt under her nails, and the smell. The poor girl smelled. Despite how mean the boys were, they were right. “I can’t leave you in here, love,” he said, regrettably. “I’ll walk you home and perhaps your mother can say goodbye to her boyfriends for just one night, eh?”
When an older gentleman hits on Evie, Tommy has quite the reaction.......
He'd been waiting for Evie as she wandered around a stall, looking at strawberries. In the early mornings, the farmers would bring their crops to the city. Tommy admired her, smiling to himself. He thought how beautiful she was becoming; maturing into a young lady, but still keeping that childish charm. How was she even a Shelby? He listened to how she spoke to the stall owner; polite and kind. Always using her 'pleases', 'thank yous', and 'excuse me'. He raised her. That was his doing, and he'd never been so proud.
It was spring, but nearing the edge of summer. She was wearing a nice skirt and a pretty light blouse. He was in deep thought when a gentleman came up beside him. The man had been enjoying a cigar that he dropped from his lips when he said, "I tell you, I'm one drink away from losing the last bit of my morals to get at her." Tommy didn't comprehend at first.
He turned to the man, leaning forward a bit. "Sorry? I didn't quite catch that." He did, but he really didn't want to.
The man pointed to Evie before grinning. "You're looking, too, eh?" The man was older than he; short and hefty. His hands waved, making a body shape in the air. "I always appreciate a nice back end, and she has a nice back end."
There was a fire building in his stomach that went to his head as his jaw clenches. "She's fourteen." But what happens next disgusted him even more. If only the man had just stopped, he would have dropped it in the name of misunderstandings. But no, a sly smirk spread across his face and Tommy instantly saw red.
"Train 'em young, they say-"
"She's fourteen," Tommy said, taking off one leather glove. "And I know that because she's my fookin' daughter." Before the man could apologize, Tommy landed a generous right hook to the man's cheek. He hollered in pain, stumbling back. Tommy put his glove back on and irritatedly called out, "Evelyn! We're going home...."
The Revenge Tape-Modern!Michael Gray x Modern!Evelyn(OC) Excerpt/Sample
Pairing: Michael Gray x Evelyn Shelby
Word Count: 466
Warnings: revenge porn, degradation, threatening, non-con, Very dark!Michael
Summary: Michael is sick of Tommy making a fool of him, and therefore uses his biggest weakness; Evelyn.
I came up with this idea with a friend...what is Modern!Michael uses some awful revenge porn against Evie....Should I write the full one shot? :S
There was a point where Michael didn’t care whether Tommy put a bullet in him or not, as long as he knew he won in some way or another. And the only way to win was to stab him where it hurt, and where it hurt was in the form of a young lady. The single one thing Tommy cared about-Evelyn Rose Shelby. And what better way than to show the bastard that his rose indeed had thorns and was not innocent or beautiful as he thought. Sitting high on a pedestal, Michael wanted to knock her down.
And for fucks sake, she was easy…easy to sway her to do anything. There she rested, arched up over the hotel bed with him over her. His hand snaked around her neck, forcing her to look up while he shoved two fingers in. “Look ahead,” he whispered, wearing a tainted grin as he bit her earlobe. She gurgled lightly, his fingers pressing down on her tongue. She looked at them together in the mirror, but he shook his head, tilting her face to look over just a bit. On the hotel television stand rested a camera. When it registered, Evie panicked, doing her best to spit his fingers out. “No, no, no,” he said, wrestling her down. “I want you to fuckin’ look…. Go on, Evelyn, look in the camera…. Maybe you should smile, too, considering you just may be a star after today.” Her whole body went cold…how could she be so gullible to trust him? Her mind raced, thinking of all the things that they had done together over the hours.
“Where are you sending it?” she asked, her voice hardly even a whisper. “Michael…don’t. I’m begging you…”
He laughed lightly. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t-”
“Michael…” Her voice wavered lightly in favor of a small sob of shame.
“Your friends, university advisors, internship advisors,” he continued, watching her get increasingly more disgusted with herself. Michael kissed a tear away. “Family…Uncle John…Uncle Arthur. Oh, and we can’t leave out your father. How do you think he’d feel his daughter calls other men daddy when their cocks are shoved balls deep in your cunt?”
Evie swallowed, averting her eyes from the camera, shielding her last inch of pride. “I’ve never done anything to you-”
“But isn’t that the fun part about being a Shelby? You get hurt just by association. But you know what, Evelyn, I’m willing to bargain.” Michael pointed to the camera. “I can either send it to everyone or you and I can pick one special person…and then after that, they get to choose what they do with it.” She was about to open her mouth when he added, “but I’ll add two more rules. No safe choices and it can’t be a woman.”
