#shelby reader

The house was silent during the festive period. Y/n’s presents had been left under the tree, Pol not letting anyone touch them, even though no one tried. They were a small part of her, even if she wasn’t present. The young girls room hadn’t been touched since that night, the only thing moved was the bedding which y/n had stained that night, and Ada had cleaned up the droplets that had made their way down the floor. Finn had tried sleeping in there one night, but in a fit of rage Tommy had shouted at him, telling him he wasn’t to go into that room again. Arthur and John wouldn’t go to the family home, not wanting to step into a home that wouldn’t have the laughter they used to love.

Christmas eve dawned on them quicker than they would of liked, and Tommy couldn’t help but grit his teeth as he sat in the living room, remembering the years when y/n would be jumping around, excited to see what would be brought to her this year. She always asked for a doll of some sort, and a wooden gun to be like her brothers, and each year she got one, each time they grew in size. The fire blazed with the two children’s stockings still hanging above them. Even Finn couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit, with everything around the time reminding him of y/n. The two youngsters would usually be outside around now, running around with the other kids before they were called in to get ready for midnight mass. It was the one mass y/n enjoyed going to, loving to see the baby lying in his manger, surrounded by the animals, men and his mother.

That night was quiet, and each room was filled with tears. Tommy lay awake on his bed, smoking a cigarette as his thoughts spiralled. He refused to allow the tears in his eyes to fall, rolling the cigarette between his lips every now and then. Y/n’s last few moments rolled through his head, and he frowned, remembering what she had said. ‘Under the bed’. With confusion surrounding him, Tommy decided to go into his little sisters room.

It was eery as he stood in front of the door, knowing that even when he walked in he wouldn’t see y/n, curled up in a ball on the bed. Trying to prolong the unavoidable rush of emotions, Tommy slowly turned the handle before creeping the door open. The place still smelt like Ada’s perfume which the eleven year old  had sneakily took from Ada’s room, her older sister knew where it was but never acted on it. Looking around, the Shelby gangster could see pieces of paper thrown around, crayons and pencils scattered around the place. Not wanting to stay long, Tommy crouched down, looking under the girls bed to see an old biscuit tin underneath. Presuming that’s what the young girl was insinuating, Tommy grabbed it before heading out of the room, leaving the door open.

-------

Christmas morning was quiet in the Shelby home. Usually there would be a squeal in the early hours of the morning, before each person would be awoken by two children jumping on top of them, screaming it was Christmas. This year, Finn didn’t see the point in getting up, waking each person up. It didn’t feel right to do it on his own, so instead he waited until he heard the sound of footsteps before opening his door. Ada smiled sadly at the young boy who just stood in the doorway, before opening her arms, pulling him into a hug. Polly woke up to the sound of soft sobs, and couldn’t help the few tears that fell herself, feeling how bitter this day was going to be.

Few words were spoken as each family member sat at the kitchen, waiting for their toast to heat up. Usually Pol would make a fry up, but with her little helper not around, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. John and Arthur showed up shortly into the morning with their wives and Johns kids, but only a hello was spoken, until they made their way into the living room.

Finn hesitantly walked towards the tree seeing the small amount of presents that were around, one less pile was evident in the room. Ada’s breath caught in her throat as Finn handed out the presents, all evidently seeing one less name written on their presents. The adults tried to make Christmas somewhat normal for the kids sakes, but even they knew something was wrong. The rooms attention was drawn to Tommy as he cleared his throat.

“I know this Christmas is a tough one, just last week we said goodbye to our angel, but I know that she would want us to try celebrate it.” Tommy gruffly stated, standing up to the drinks cabinet. “Tommy, what are you doing?” Ada asked, confused on why each adult was given a glass of Sherry, the children moving out of the room. “To y/n.” Tommy spoke, holding up his glass. “Our darling sister.” Arthur spoke, holding his glass high. “Never forgotten.” Pol finished with a nod, before clinging the glasses together.   

After downing the small amount of Sherry, Tommy grimaced at the taste before moving to the tree. Eyes watched him as he leaned down from behind, taking up an old biscuit box before placing it on the table in front of him. Recognizing y/n’s writing, Polly looked up at her nephew, squinting her eyes at him.

“What is this Tommy?” Polly asked, tears filling her eyes. “Before y/n died she told us under the bed. Now I didn’t think much of it until last night. And I found this.” Tommy tapped the box, “Ada, get Finn.” “What is it Tommy?” John asked, eyeing the box carefully.

Tommy waited until Ada came back in with Finn behind her. The youngest Shelby looked around before sitting on the ground by Arthurs feet, who tapped his head in comfort as the young boy stared at the box on the table. Breathing in deeply, Tommy opened the lid, before taking out some papers that were inside.

“Y/n always loved drawing, even when she got sick she used all her energy to dray. I never knew why until now. She made each of us a picture, with a little something on the back of  each.” Tommy explained, moving to hand out each of his siblings and Polly a sheet of paper. “Her last gift to us.” John stated, and he hung his head, not sure how to react. “Something to remember her by.” Tommy nodded, before taking a seat by the fire once again. “She was always such a thoughtful kid.” Ada spoke fondly. “Y/n you angel.” Polly smiled, looking down at the picture in her hand. “Some people make the world special, just by being in it.” Arthur read from the back. “Describes y/n to a T.” Arthurs wife spoke with a smile, placing a hand on her husbands back. “She was special.” Finn spoke tearfully, and Arthur rubbed his head gently. “Marry Christmas y/n.” Polly whispered, bringing the picture of an angel close to her. “Our angel in the sky.” Ada smiled sorrowfully, looking down at her own angel picture.

The door stood ajar, and Tommy peeked in curiously, shrouded by the darkness of the hallway. Victoria sat on her bed, knees bent in front of her, both scraped and bruised. Around here laid a mess of pieces of bandages, a rusty pair of scissors, some iodine and oddly enough, a bottle of liquor. A most puzzling scene, especially because Tommy would have never expected his eight year old sister to have the maturity to gather all those supplies and hide in her bedroom while injured, instead of crying it out like a normal child. But again, kids raised in the middle of the war were no normal children.

Vicky had a piece of cloth on her hand and tried to dab at her scrapes, but she hissed every time it came in contact with her injury. Tears streamed down her cheeks, carving lines in the dirt of her skin. Tommy just then realised she was covered in grime from head to toe. 

Vicky again made a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the blood on her knees

“Fuck” She hissed

“Oi, language!” Exclaimed Tommy, entering the bedroom. Vicky nearly jumped from the bed when Tommy marched in; he had the ability to be as silent as a cat, which drove everyone insane since he always startled everyone. The girl looked like she had seen a ghost, but there are worse things than a ghost, like being caught doing things you shouldn’t be by your brother-self-appointed-father.

Tommy sat on the edge of the bed while Vicky watched him cautiously, like a prey being sized up by the predator; Victoria had felt odd around Tommy ever since he came back from France, still struggling to get used to this new self, and desperately trying to find scraps of her old brother in this unknown man. They all had changed, in a way, but Tommy’s switch was most obvious. Sometimes the girl wondered if they had sent her back the right man.

“What happened?” The calmness in his voice was edged by the slightest hint of concern, and a dash of curiosity at the maturity of the littlest Shelby. 

“Street puddles are treacherous places” At her words, Tommy felt a strange pang in his heart. Since when did his little sister use big words like “treacherous”? When they left, she could barely even pronounce her own name correctly, and wanted to be up in someone’s arms all day long. Now she spent most of her days out of the home, either at school or roaming the streets with other rascals. She already knew how to read as well, and clearly used her newfound knowledge to say “big girl words” every time she could. 

Tommy grabbed her leg and pulled her close to inspect the wound, earning a squeak from his sister as she was yanked from a sitting position to be flat on the bed. The scrapes were large, but superficial. Something an adult wouldn’t even notice, but for a child of Victoria’s age it meant the end of the world and certain death. Yet his sister sat before him, teary eyed but otherwise calmly carrying herself. Tommy couldn’t recognise her anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell Aunt Pol to help you?”

For an answer, Victoria pointed to the floor, where her once new white stocks laid in tatters, all ripped up and stained with muddy water. Ada had told Polly that buying Victoria something white and delicate would be a waste of money, but she insisted. She wanted everyone to look their best when they picked the boys at the station, and somehow had stuffed Vicky and Finn in their Sunday best, complete with Finn’s hair slicked back and Victoria with ribbons woven in her plaits.

“Do you want my help?” Tommy felt odd at having to ask his eight year old sister if she needed help with something. In his mind this child had barely left the diapers and had no right to be speaking in full sentences and reading and writing.

“I can do it myself” Victoria sat up and grabbed the cloth again, but her hand shook even before she touched her knees. The sun would freeze over before she was finished.

Tommy snatched the cloth from her hands and dripped some iodine on it “It will not kill you to ask for help” He knew this bravado would crumble soon enough, but he couldn’t quite figure out what she was trying to prove.

“Aunt Polly said we have to fend for ourselves now”

Oh.

Tommy knew Pol didn’t say that. She would never say that directly to a child. But he still recalled the conversation when that phrase had been said. Late at night, the four of them sat before the hearth and passed around a bottle of cheap whiskey. They were due to leave at 9 am sharp the following day. Their hairs cut, their weavings packed and ready. Polly had stuffed their pockets with cigarettes and given them a bit of money in case they needed it. Then she prayed for their lives and commanded the three brothers to return, for they had people who loved them and depended on them. She remarked that even though Arthur and Tommy had no kids of their own they still had their responsibilities, because there were still three children under that roof that would now have to fend for themselves.

He couldn’t even begin to comprehend how Victoria remembered that. Maybe Polly had said those words again to a neighbour, or to Ada who was old enough to understand; and the little rascal had eavesdropped and gotten the wrong idea. A painful coil tightened around Tommy’s throat; the baby of the house had spent all these years under the impression that she only had herself in the world, even if she didn’t quite understand what that implied. 

Tommy didn’t reply. What could he possibly say? How could he erase from her mind that idea that she had to rely only on herself because everything and everyone else around her were not for granted? He couldn’t say that he would be forever with her, because he knew that was a promise he didn’t know if he could keep.

He gently dabbed the cloth on her knee, earning a hiss and quietly muttered curse from his sister, who quickly covered her mouth with her hands.

“Don’t let Pol hear you or she will wash your mouth with soap” Tommy swiftly pulled Victoria into his lap so he could hold her better, and to give her the chance to hold onto him. He got to work on cleaning the scrapes, feeling little fingers dig tightly on the fabric of his coat, and he was pretty sure Vicky bit the arm he was using to hold her. 

Once the grime had been wiped away he began to bandage her knees “What is the liquor for?” Tommy inquired curiously, nodding to the almost empty bottle on the bed. The bottle had some cheap hard liquor that they kept in a cabinet for emergencies, and never for drinking. Not that Thomas believed Vicky to be taking swigs of alcohol behind their backs, but the thought was amusing nonetheless.

“I have seen you and Arthur clean up wounds with that” She shrugged “I don’t think I need it thought” She added quickly

Tommy hummed “You couldn’t open it, right”

“Yep”

The faintest ghost of a smile tugged on Tommy’s lips. A big girl with big words and a big attitude but she still didn’t have the strength to open up a bottle, nor had she figured out how to work the house keys, and still wanted to have her food cut up for her. He finished wrapping the bandages and tied them up neat and nicely “Does it feel okay?”

The girl flexed her legs a few times and nodded “I could do that myself” Victoria could never, ever lose the opportunity to try and up her older brothers. Only when she stepped off Tommy’s lap did she notice the dirt in his trousers and the little scraps of his hands “Did you fall too?”

Tommy’s body immediately tensed up and he put his hands down to hide his reddened palms “Yards are treacherous places”

Victoria immediately tried to pull up Tommy’s trousers to take a look, but Tommy held her wrists to stop her, rather harshly. Both of them stood in absolute silence until Tommy let go of her. He hadn’t intended to be so harsh, but sometimes it happened too fast. His wrecked nerves got the best of him, fueled by the fact that never, ever in his life Tommy had allowed anyone to help him; not before the war and certainly not after. 

But he couldn’t be this way with Victoria, not if he wanted to make up for all the years of her life he lost. And especially not now, when with that little gesture, something as simple as showing concern for him, Tommy caught a glimpse of what his sister had always been before she decided to build up walls, just like everyone around her. War had hardened the Shelby brothers, but it didn’t have to do the same to their little ones. 

Just as Vicky straightened up, slowly as if she feared he would snap again, Tommy released a slow breath and pulled his sister into a bone crushing hug, her arms pinned to her sides as he squeezed her in the way he used to do when she was a baby. In the same way he hugged her when he took the train in 1914, and the way he hadn’t hugged her ever since. He kept her there until Vicky squirmed “Tommy you are squeezing me”

“I know”

“....Can you put me down?”

“No”

In that moment, that hug felt like an anchor to the life he once had and the man he used to be; both things now lost to the war machine. The war life had taken him, chewed him up and spat him back out as something new, something he couldn’t recognise and something that would forever be damaged in a way only those who had been chewed too could understand. But somewhere behind layers of trauma, scars, fears and anger lay a sliver of the pre-war Thomas Shelby, an miniscule sliver of a man who once believed the world could be good and kind. And that sliver belonged to Victoria for as long as she lived, so she could once more see the world through a rose tinted lens and never again had to think that she had to fend for herself. And so he could make up for all those missed hugs, cuddles and tickles.

After minutes of maintaining the hug, Tommy stood up and swung his sister over his shoulder. He suddenly had the vitality and energy he had lacked the last weeks. He marched out the room and down the hallway with Victoria over him like a sack of potatoes.

“Where are you taking me?” Inquired Victoria curiously

“To the bathroom. You are a grime ball and if Pol sees you like this, she will have both of our heads”

At the young age of 5, everyone noticed how much you loved music. You’d hum to a song you’d heard and match its pitch with whatever objects you could find. At the age of 6, you stumbled upon a violinist, he was old, well into his 50′s, and playing for money, but the sound he emitted from his instrument was so enticing, you stood and watched him play. You didn’t know how much time had passed as you watched him play, but it was long enough for your family to notice you were no longer with them. They’d found you sitting on the concrete floor, legs criss cross, watching the man play his melodies. 

Thomas got you your first violin a few weeks later, right before all of them left to fight in the war. In those four years, you dedicated almost all your free time to playing the violin. It was your escape, you practiced until your finger were numb and only until you perfected every note would you think about stopping, most of the time you’d still continue. Your music was rarely heard, though, Not by Ada or Polly and not even by Finn. Your music was yours and yours alone. You’d leave in the morning with your violin, carry it around school and practice somewhere secluded after school. Or you’d leave after breakfast on the weekends while Polly was busy with the business. 

When the boys returned from the war, you weren’t able to spend as much time playing and practicing as you’d like. They became more protective than the last time you’d seen them. The first year they were back, after turning 11, you played in front of them for the first time. It was a simple song called ‘Andantino’. It was one of the first songs you tried to learn and succeeded. It was slow and beautiful. It was the first time any of them had heard you play and to say the least they were stunned. You were 11 and playing beautifully. 

That was the only time you’d played for them for a long time. It always made you nervous when others heard you play. you were a little afraid of their judgment. No one ever pushed you to play. When you were 14, you stopped playing for a few months. School was becoming more stressful and it felt like you barely had any time to play. When school ended for the year, you picked your violin back up and worked hard to regain you skill level. You’d go to your Uncle Charlie’s place and go as far out onto the field as you could so no one would hear you play. And if they did it would sound incredibly distant and faint. you tried to maintain the habit even when school started again. 

You ended up graduating high school early, at 16, and began to focus on your violin. It wasn’t strange for your family to not see you for the entire day as you’d spend it out practicing and playing. 

One day, you decided to go back to the market in which the old man with the violin was at. You had little hope you’d find him there but you did. Still playing the violin. You watched and listened to his music. It was just as beautiful as you remembered. He saw you from afar and beaconed you over when he finished his piece. 

“You seem awfully familiar...” He says trying to remember, “The little girl who watched me play for nearly an hour a decade ago?” You smile slightly. 

“Yes...” 

“Did you ever learn to play?” He asks. 

“I did.” He hands his violin to you and gestures for you to play. You took a moment to breathe and decided which song you would be playing. You let your fingers lead you, the memory of each note to lead you. You let everything go and let the music guide you, ‘Gymnopédie No. 1′ was the piece you had decided on playing in that moment. You shut your eyes and played the song by memory, every note was smooth and beautifully played. The music transported you somewhere safe, somewhere warm and comfortable. Once you finished the piece you opened your eyes and found a bigger crowd then the one before watching the man. He was in front of you with an astonished face. 

“That was absolutely beautiful, and all of it by memory... my God, you were born to be a violinists.” He says as you hand him back his violin. 

“I wouldn’t be here, playing the violin, if it weren’t for me hearing your music 10 years ago, I have you to thank.” You say walking away, but not before leaving a pouch with money inside the hat he was using to collect his earnings. 

When you arrived back home you found Thomas, Arthur, John, Ada, Polly, and Finn all in the living room. You were a little happier when you arrived from when you left. 

“I heard you gave quite a show today, Y/n.” Thomas says. You look at him a little shocked he’d found out but held a smile on your face nonetheless. 

“What? Where?” Ada questions. 

“At the market, the old man who was playing the violin 10 years ago still plays there.” You inform them. 

“And he let you play? How did he know you played the violin?” John asks. 

“Yes. And he recognized me. It felt amazing playing for a crowd. I used to be so afraid of playing in front of people, even you guys but after today, It felt so... magical in a way.” you say. 

“maybe you should do it more often then,” Polly says, everyone agrees. 

“Maybe, I should...” You say.

“Why don’t you play at the Garrison?” Arthur says. 

“That’s a great idea, you can play tomorrow night.” Thomas says. 

“The Garrison is a pub, Who the hell goes to a pub to listen to a violinist?” You retort. 

“Tomorrow can be a special event, it’s a great idea come on, Y/n.” Arthur tries to convince you. 

“It’s an awesome opportunity, y/n. You play really fucking well, everyone would love to hear you.” Finn says. 

“And we’ll all be there, so you’ll have more confidence and all our support. you’ll do great.” Ada persuades. 

“So, What do you say, Y/n?” Polly says after a while of you contemplating. 

“...Fine. I’ll do it, if you all promise to be there.” You say at last. 

“Deal.” Thomas says. 

That night you decided on which songs you would play. Some were slow and some were fast, but all were just as beautiful. You decided on playing the song you played earlier that day at the market first, then ‘Andantino’, ‘Concerto for Violin in A minor’, Accolay: Violin Concerto No.1 in A minor, a part of Brahms: Violin Concerto in D minor op. 77, Scottish Fantasy Op. 46 and then finish off with ‘Salut d’amour’. You would only play for an hour, that's the amount of time you all agreed on. 

The next day when you woke up you decide you wanted to get some practice in, so you went to your uncle Charlie’s yard and practiced until each piece was perfected. You’d played each song probably a hundred times since you’d started playing the violin. 

You went home and got ready with Ada and Polly later on. You decided on wearing a simple short sleeve light blue dress that was slightly shorter in the front than in the back. You wore white flat shoes rather than heels. Once you’d fixed your hair and applies a bit of make up, You, Ada, and Polly all walked to the Garrison together, your violin in hand. You were a bit nervous but pushed it all aside. The Garrison wasn’t as rowdy and loud as it usually is. It was more tame. You spotted Thomas, Arthur, John, and Finn seated in a booth. Arthur gesture with his hand for you to go stand on a small platform, While Polly and Ada went to sit with them. You pulled your violin and bow out of the case and stood at the front on the platform Arthur gestured to. Everyone watched as you took a deep breathe, looking towards your family who gave you smiles, encouraging you to start. It didn’t take you long after you started to travel to the place you adored. the place where there was nothing but you and your music. Your cheek rested on the violin, your eyes remained shut and your fingers played the right notes every time. Your eyes were shut but you could see a beautiful field with hundreds if not thousands of flowers, that’s where you were always transported when you played. there was a river not far from where you stood, the sky was a beautiful grey, and the breeze blew on your face. 

You only finally opened your eyes when you finished your final piece, it was quiet for a few seconds and it felt as if time had stopped. you received a standing ovation, even from Thomas, Polly, Ada, Finn, Arthur, and John. You smiled and gave everyone a small bow, then walked to the table your family was seated at. 

“Would you look at that, Our little sister, might as well become a professional, That was amazing.” John says. 

“Thank you, John,” 

“That was absolutely beautiful.” Polly says. 

“Thanks Aunt Pol,” 

"Yes?" Whoever this person was - I have no idea. He looks neat, sharp in his suit, a killer smile and eyes that I'm almost certain can catch a cabin crew by the end of this flight. A fuckboi.

"It's me, YEx/N L/N." He proudly introduces himself; but introductions are far too gone, I know the man sitting and smiling at me. I know him too well that I'm willing to bet he hasn't changed a bit over the years. "How are you? It's been so long since I last seen you."

"Yeah.." It was all I could say. I try to take deep breaths because in my imagination the plane's air suddenly wasn't enough to keep me alive before we could land.

"20 years," he started. "20 years and you haven't changed a bit."

20 years. I haven't realized it had been that long.

It was a lie, I changed.

"So business or pleasure?" I shot him a look of disgust and he just kept on smiling. "You're going to Boracay, right? So its either of the two: business or pleasure."

I couldn't believe that someone who I haven't seen in over 20 years haven't aged mentally in 20 years. Business on the front and pleasure on the side.

"I'm all about business actually, got an offer I couldn't refuse. It pays well to have connections. I come to the island every once in a while, I'm a consultant for hotels and restaurants."

I never asked yet he tells me his life story. His arse was through the roof, and I could do him a favor if I threw him out the plane just to see if that arse of his have wings. But I chose to be the better person, I decided to keep my silence and nod my head pretending to be amazed by his achievements.

From the side I could see how his eyes would travel up and down on me, until he set sight on a certain thing he found interest to open a new topic on this dreadful flight.

"Big ring," he didn't sound pleased. "Engaged?"

I followed his sight and there it was, a diamond ring and a silver band resting on my left finger.

"Married," I said proudly.

His lips pursed, his eyes looking down on my ring. Disappointment and anger was clearly written on his face, only a idiot head over heels with this fool would misinterpret that look and sympathize for his pain.

Silence was brewing and I knew him too well to know that there wasn't going to be any good in his silence. And I was right.

"With looks like yours and a body like that, you could get any man you want. And by looking at the size of that ring, you've hit the jackpot!"

I didn't know if it was destiny or what but of all the people in this planet, the universe had decided that it would be best to have him seat beside me. I was never the type to make a scene, especially in public, but if it wasn't for the crew announcing the plane would land and everyone must stay on their seats, I would have sworn to the gods that this man would already be dead.

Strangling him wouldn't be enough, stabbing him a thousand times wouldn't be enough, any form of violence and torture wouldn't be enough to satisfy the rotten feelings I harbor for this man.

A bus took us passengers to the port, I had been on this island as it was the starting point of my life, it was also the end and the change. Clear blue crystal waters and fine white sand awaited as the boat crossed the sea.

A five minute sail from the main land to the island and there a shuttle from the hotel awaited at the port exit, and the universe was testing my patience. It seems that he will be staying at the same hotel as I am. 15 minutes of ghastly trip with him seated by my side; I could see how he would turn to smile from time to time or how he would accidentally brush his hands against mine as the shuttle would turn on every intersection.

"Aren't you married?" I asks, as I stepped out of the shuttle. He wasn't amused by my question, as I too with his flirting.

"Unhappily," he says.

I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't. A man who cares about looks and a woman uncontented of anything.

The staff started to unload the luggages from the shuttle to the hotel. The place was breathtaking, from the grand lobby with high ceilings over to the crystal water pool to the white sand beach upfront I could see from where I stand. I had momentarily forgotten a certain someone until I felt a hand grabbed me to which I was pulled back to reality.

"I was wrong," he started. "What I did was wrong and I regretted letting you go. I shouldn't have done what I did, if you could give me a second chance I promise I won't screw up, and I could give you much more than that man of yours can give. Please, give me a chance to fix us."

There was a high pitch sound ringing in my ears, a stinging pain in my hand and as if all the ranging feelings that I had been harboring were slowly escaping my body.

He was stunned by my sudden action, but so was I. It had been one hard of slap for him to keep his hand on his cheeks. A slap was nothing compared to the things he did. Some of the staff and guests were already staring but I couldn't care less.

"A chance is only given to someone who deserves it. The way you looked at me the entire flight and the accidental touch of hands was your way of flirting since then before until now, even when you are married and I told you I was. Do you think you deserve to be given a chance? Even if you did, even if others did give you that chance I. Will. Not.

I gave you chance after chance back then, when you flirted with Gale. When you got drunk and slept with Joan, or when you were forced to kiss Eliza over a stupid game of spin the bottle! You used all your chances and you never got any left since you walked out the door."

He was about to say something but I wasn't through.

"You want to fix us? There is nothing to fix! You left me, remember? You just left without giving a fucking explanation! And I was responsible for picking up the broken pieces of me.

You choose her, because I could never uphold to your stupid explanations and now you see that I'm happy, suddenly you want me back? Don't you think I deserve happiness too?

Do you really hate me that much to want me back and break me again? I never deserved you. You never deserved me and you deserve whatever is happening to you know.

I had always thought that there was something wrong with me, so I changed. I stopped drinking, stopped eating my favorite food to lose the weight, wore fucking dresses and heels to make me more ladylike. I even stopped hanging out with boys even though they were the ones I'm most comfortable with because you always say that people will think that I'm a whore if I continue to be with them!

And I just should have let people call me that; I lost my friends because of you. I lost myself because of you. Some part of me drowned and couldn't be saved because of what you did."

"Then why didn't you fight?!"

He must be joking.

"Fight? Why would I fight in a battle that I already lost halfway? I knew you were seeing her. I knew You. Were. Fucking. Her. And yet I fucking stayed!

So you have no right to ask if I fought, because I did even though I lost. It was you who didn't fight!

You chose Zareena, because she was more pretty, rich, sophisticated, something that I wasn't. And after you left I realized why you chose her, because I was never good enough for you."

People were looking, but I didn't care. I went straight to the bathrooms to fix myself, as I look at the woman in front of me I could say she is damn strong, she's someone I want to be when I grow up. Tears were useless, I already cried for that bastard many years ago and I'm not doing that again.

After fixing my makeup and clothes I went straight to the front desk. Some of the staff were still looking but I confidently made my way, I had carried that weight in my heart for over 20 years wondering what I did wrong, having it all out out was finally shutting the box and throwing it out to sea to drown.

Well of course he will be staying at where I'm staying, I might have forgotten that. I could hear the other front office associates giggling, saying something like how they were excited to work with him.

"I'm looking for Marie," I told the FO Associate.

He must have heard me because he was coming towards me, "If you have trouble with your reservation, maybe I could help you-"

"I'm not." If I did he wouldn't even be an option to ask for help. He must have gotten the message as left going to the other side of the hotel lobby.

"Welcome back Ms. Y/N," Marie, the Front Office Manager came out from the back office; and a dear friend of mine. She was the only one who never made fun of me or called me names when I started as a Hotel Manager in this same hotel, and I made sure to repay her kindness with everything I got. "I already had someone send your bags to your room."

"Mummy!"

A small voice echoes through the entire hotel lobby. I knew it too well that the moment I turned around I see my 3 year old son running towards me with open arms. I scoop him in my arms, and he immediately wraps his arms around me, his head sinking in my neck.

"I missed you, Mummy." He whispers, we only haven't seen each other in two days and my heart would melt on how my son misses me.

"I missed you too, Charlie." I say as I kiss his head and rubs his back.

"I want ice cream."

"We'll have ice cream after lunch. Where's Daddy?"

Charlie then makes this gestures as he brings his hand to his lips and blows an imaginary smoke.

My husband and his habits. He's at the smoking area then.

"Daddy!" I set Charlie down and watch him run towards his father. I couldn't help but laugh as he excitedly announces that we were having ice cream after lunch than tell his father I've arrived.

With our son in his arms my husband came to my side and gave me a kiss to welcome, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Tom." Like father, like son. God I love my two boys.

"I'd like to introduce you to someone, Y/N." Tommy says, he looks over and I saw the person in view. "Love, this is Mr. YEx/N L/N. He's the new hotel consultant."

No wonder those FO Associates were giggling, YEx/N is the hotel consultant who will be overseeing every operations from the front and back.

"Mr. YExL/N, this is my ever beautiful and amazing wife Y/N Shelby and our son, Charlie. My wife is the CEO of the Shelbreeze Resorts and Hotels."

I gave him my most beautiful smile. Oh have the tables turned.

"Welcome to Shelbreeze Crystal Sands, Mr. YExL/N. I'm afraid we won't be needing your services after all." Tommy looks at me with a questioning look, but he knows better. "I'll have Marie send someone to fetch your bags and drive you back to the airport. A ticket will be ready when you get there. I'll assure you that you'll be on the first flight back."

Terrified. That what he looks like. I'll make sure that his connections get burned to ashes and he gets an offer he couldn’t refuse.

"No hard feelings, Mr. YExL/N. I just don't want someone to screw over my husband's company then suddenly leave for no apparent reason. I'm afraid I won't live up to your expectations as your boss, after all I will never be good enough, right?"

Tommy placed his hand over mine and holds it tight. I never told him a name, only the story, and I think he got the message.

"I would appreciate it if this will be the time we'll be seeing each other, Mr. YExL/N." says Tommy.

Marie immediately stepped in and assisted YEx/N on his way out.

"Oh, Mr. YExL/N before I forget," Tommy calls out. "She's more than enough."

Boracay Island is truly an amazing place to be, and I decided to set my story there thinking it would be a perfect place for a Tommy Shelby Modern Imagine.

[ MASTERLIST ]

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. “She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

He left. The other Shelby brother left. Not because he hated his family, but for the work they did. He wouldn’t make money by killing and hurting people- it was wrong. It was evil. Y/n couldn’t watch the violence his brothers caused. He couldn’t stomach the pain the Shelby name caused for others. So, as mentioned before, he took up his bearings, kissed his sister and aunt goodbye, and went out.

The subject of Y/n Shelby was a rare one to occur in conversation. A painful one, you could say. Tommy was silent, emotionless, about his brother’s “rebellion”. Arthur and John, however, reacted. Arthur would cry and drink away his sorrows at the mention of his little brother. John on the other hand, would completely fucking lose it, breaking everything in sight, just in absolute rage before finally admitting that he’s sad.

Because of the trio’s mood swings, not counting Tommy, people hardly referenced Y/n...thought about him either. Those who knew better, at least.

But the brothers were not the only ones of the family to be affected by this. Finn was on the younger side when Y/n left, so he’s still trying to patch up the memories to complete the puzzle; he can’t ask his family for obvious reasons. Ada is just as devastated as Arthur, crying from night till the sun meets the morning sky.

Polly... Oh boy. Polly is the worst of the bunch. She refuses to let anyone talk bad about her nephew, even if it did break her heart when he left. The woman had been hit with depression, until she decided that even emotions couldn’t hold Polly Gray down. When she showed up at the shop the next day, the rest of her family were silent, scared that she’d break down again, but one harsh glare from Pol and everyone was scrambling back to work.

Then came that fateful day. The day wherein the subject seldom heard from the family came to be the main topic. The day Polly snapped.

“Is Y/n coming home?” Young Finn poked his head through the door of the shop, interrupting the family meeting of a completely different subject.

The sudden mention of the Shelby cause silence to drop over the room, like a blanket; made of nothing but the faint sound of the streets outside.

Ada was the first to react as far as saying anything, standing and walking over to her little brother, “Finn, where did you hear such a thing?”

“Outside. They say he’s walking from place to place, on his way home.”

“They’re lies.”

The once quiet Tommy startled the room. His deep voice was stern, as if warning Finn. But of what?

“No they’re not! He’s really coming back!”

“And how do you know that? Have you seen the fool? Have you watched him pick up his ‘delicate little feet’ and walk on home? Have you seen him at any point ever since he decided he was better off without us?!”

Thomas’ angry rant of held-in feelings about his brother’s leave was silenced with quite the opposite to silence. A loud smack boomed through the room, shocking even the woman whom the hand belonged to. Tommy opened his eyes and met the dark brown orbs of his aunt. Tears sat along her lower lid, but none dared to stain her face.

“Don’t you ever talk about Y/n that way.” Then she turned and made her way to where Finn was leaning, rubbing his head softly and lowering her voice, a forced, but gentle smile upon her lips. “Tell me, Finn, where do they say he is right now?”

But the little Shelby didn’t respond. He stood there for a good minute or two, starring at the door and squinting as light peaked into the room and at his face. No one payed attention to it, focused on Finn’s response. They waited some more before Pol asked again. “Where’s Y/n?”