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Thomas Shelby was a passionate man, a man who over time had hardened and could now rule his small but growing kingdom with an iron fist. You have to be either brave as brass or utterly insane to willingly associate with the compelling blue eyed authoritarian. If Thomas Shelby entered your life it could only mean one thing. Death. Death was unforgiving. Death didn't care who it hurt in the process of stealing someone from this plane of existence. And the death that clung to you after being with Tommy was suffocating. What hurts the most is that when death appears it will come from nowhere, robbing you of the chance of saying goodbye.
Perhaps that was why Y/N L/N fled, the stench of death was becoming too much. It clung to her to the point of making her delirious. She was trying to outrun her destiny. She was already tired of running, tired of looking behind her back every minute to see if death was closing in or not. But it wasn't death trailing after her. It wasn't death watching her every move like a hawk watching its prey. It was Tommy. He could... wouldn't let her go. The Great War had changed the pale man, he didn't laugh anymore. He just watched, his lips constantly forming a tight-lipped smirk. Even before the war he'd be obsessed with Y/N L/N. But when does childhood love turn into strangling tar like obsession?
Tommy thought if he changed himself enough she would love him again. If he loved her enough she'd become blind to the darkness that loomed over him. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected as he waited on her doorstep, a cigarette dangling precariously between his pink lips. Part of him craved a heated romantic reunion, perhaps one of those intense and ardent embraces in those silly books Y/N had poured herself over when they were teenagers. Throwing the dying cigarette to the floor, Tommy's infamous blue orbs narrowed at the golden door knocker. Thomas Shelby wasn't a shy or nervous man, he was cool and calculating but in this second he felt like an awkward teenage boy. Whilst debating whether to knock or run away like a coward, the navy blue door opened suddenly. The obstruction revealed the y/h/c woman Tommy had grown to love, but this wasn't a movie... And Y/N most definitely wasn't the damsel in distress, nor was she the star studded heroine. Instead he was greeted like a ghost, her soft y/e/c orbs hard as she practically stared straight through him. It was like he wasn't there, his gentle touch was nothing but a slight breeze of a warm spring day. "Leave me alone!" Y/N hissed coldly. Despite her anger laced tone, Tommy took no heed. Instead choosing to flicker his frozen lakes of blue over the y/h young woman's figure. He couldn't help but laugh, she looked like a girl playing dress up. She was donned in something Tommy guessed was fashionable. But it wasn't her. It wasn't the Small Heath Y/N. She was playing a game, trying to forget him and all the negativity he brought with him.
"Come home Y/N/N" Tommy implored desperately but lacking sincerity. If she wanted to play make believe Tommy would quite happily play along.
He wanted to stand tall and be the man his taste of war had made him. The Tommy that everyone had become used to. But that stoic man vanished as he watched the girl he loved stand firm before his very eyes. Her usual sweet smile has disappeared, replaced by a tight-lipped scowl and a glare that burnt worse than the pits of hell. "This is my home Thomas." Y/N replied simply, gesturing at the brick and mortar she'd claimed as her place of safety. Tutting Thomas shook his head in disagreement, "That hurts me Love." was all he said, he spoke slowly almost drowsily. "You know what I meant." the older man added, his tone remained even. "I always know what you mean Mr Shelby." Y/N began knowing the use of his surname was sure to sting, but she wanted to twist the knife just a fraction deeper. "But I think you're a delirious old fool." the y/h/c young woman spoke enunciating each word like it would be her last. If Tommy was death and her time had run out she'd make damn sure she'd break his heart before she met God.
"Thomas Shelby is an idiot if he thinks I'm going anywhere with him!" Y/N laughed arrogantly, the anger she'd locked away burning through her like acid. It was a hurricane, a flame of rage prepared to burn anything it came into contact with down to the ground. "You're coming home and you're coming home now" The dark haired man replied eerily calm, ignoring the unladylike scoff that came from the volatile young woman. "Even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming." Tommy whispered assertively with a smirk.
"Why couldn't you just let me go?!" Y/N repeated this time barely above a whisper. "Because I love you too much to let you go. People could use you to get to me. Nasty people." Tommy replied, placing a rough hand on the young woman's soft cheek. Tightening his grip on her y/s/c face Tommy narrowed his eyes suspiciously, Her familiar y/h/c locks sat naturally, slightly cascading over her shoulders. She still smelled of the summer meadows they'd made their kingdoms. But something was off. The scent of cigar smoke had entwined itself with her familiar delicate scent. But she was home, it didn't matter where in the world he was as long as he had her. And Tommy wouldn't make the mistake of letting her go. Not this time. Not ever.
