Historias de Tommyshelbyimagine

@silenceofthesiphons S. 2019 F.

Shrapnel. Bandages. Death. No more was the smell of dinner, Ma Ma's delicate flowers or the hay bales encompassing of my life. Rather, the screams of the shell-shocked, the staining of blood on my apron and the heavy stench of grief. In writing, France was a most beautiful place, a heavenly place. Heaven had been invaded by hell, and the devil's grasp is suffocating. My name is Y/N L/N of the British Voluntary Aid Detachment and it was in this nightmare, that I met my angel.

A Thomas Shelby and Reader story. They have been seeing each other for a while. He has become distant.

Cover by .jacobite (quotev) / @vintagecaesars Imagines from my tumblr! Please do not steal! Warnings are included on each page.