EVERY LINE IS JUST SO BEAUTIFUL - Tumblr Posts

OH😭MY😭FUCKING😭GOD😭THIS😭IS😭SO😭SUBLIME😭TOO😭GOOD😭TO😭BE😭TRUE😭

𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 || 𝐭.𝐬.

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader

word count: 6.1k

warning(s)/includes: explicit language, underage smoking, some angst, but mostly fluff, violence

summary: It’s crucial to know that while the story of (y/n) and Tommy was quite sorrowful, it was also full of ecstasy, smiles, bliss and, last but not least, love. And if there is anything that is certain in this world, it’s that love, of the true kind, prevails over any difficulties.

a/n: ride by lana del rey is recommended to listen to while reading. this is my best piece ever, I think, so don't let it flop. took 10hrs, no cap.

The sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizon in Birmingham, its last rays of sunshine hitting the main street on which Tommy Shelby was walking. He'd just got out of school; a misery that appeared to be never ending. Fortunately for him, it was not; quite frankly, it only lasted five or so hours and now he was on his way home to his father, siblings and aunt Polly.

He wasn’t planning on taking another route or coming home late, yet both of those things managed to happen to him, as well as an unexpected acquaintance. You see, Tommy rarely ever stopped on his way home, way too absorbed in the idea of playing in the garden with his horse, but this time was different. This time, there was a certain someone that had caught his eye. More specifically, you had caught his eye.

Tommy was taken aback as he looked to the left, seeing a pretty girl around his age sitting on the cold pavement with her hands cupping her face as tears rolled down her cheeks. Why you were crying? That’s a brilliant question of many answers, but the essential one was family problems. Or, more specifically, “mother is dead, while father is an alcoholic” problems.

Seeing people cry in the dark streets of Birmingham wasn’t unusual at all, and Tommy had never bothered talking to any of these people, yet something was drawing him to you. Perhaps it was your gorgeous hair that shone in the last of the sunbeams, or perhaps it was the necklace you wore, reminding him of his mother. What it was, we may never know for sure, but it was enough to make the young boy walk over to you and sit down on your left.

Without any words, he put his skinny arm around your fragile shoulders in a manner that made you think he was afraid to break you. The touch was gentle, yet soothing, and you leaned into his body, feeling some sort of warm tenderness sparking in your heart at his actions. The fact that this stranger straight up had walked over to you and pulled you into an embrace while you most needed it, created some sort of connection between you and him.

This connection, whether he’d felt it as well or it was unrequited, would bury itself in your heart and stay there for years to come, never leaving, even when Tommy wasn’t by your side. Not that this would happen often, though, for after this strange, yet endearing encounter, nothing and nobody would be able to part you.

“Thank you,” you whispered after some time. You weren’t sure whether it had been a minute or two hours, but the sunlight had now completely dispersed, leaving you and your new friend in the dark.

“It’s nothing,” Tommy whispered back, though he knew very well that it was something. Perhaps that was the motive for his actions: he simply didn’t want anyone to feel as alone as he did the night his mother died. Maybe now, that he’d brought comfort to you, you’d be willing to do the same for him. Either way, you weren't the only one who ravished in the touch of another person in this sorrowful city.

“I’m Thomas, by the way. Thomas Shelby.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas,” A smile slowly crept onto your face as you spoke, and a spark of hope planted itself in your soul. Hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d turn out to be a supporting shoulder. Someone you could trust. “I’m (y/n). (y/n) (l/n).”

And with that, a new friendship was formed, a bond was created and a promise was made. A promise of trust, support and love that would last forever. Perhaps it was untimely to say, but something in you had awoken and was telling you that these feelings were to stay in your heart, body and soul for all eternity. And so would Tommy’s.

6 years later

“Fucking hell, Tommy, that’s not how you roll a fucking cigarette!”

“Then why don’t you do it, if you’re so fucking experienced, eh?” Tommy grumbled, fiddling more with the cigarette, trying to wrap it in the paper he’d stolen from Ms. Turner’s tobacco shop around the corner. “I’ve seen Arthur do it before, I'm telling you, this is how.”

You scoffed, tearing the cigarette from his hand and trying to wrap it yourself. The two of you were currently on the hardware flooring of an empty store no one ever worked at. You had previously been highly excited to try smoking for the very first time, especially since it was with your best friend, Tommy. It had all gone smoothly, Tommy stole the wrapping paper while you got the other contents from your father, who was sound asleep.

The only problem was that you weren't able to roll the goddamn thing. Whoever invented cigarettes probably hadn’t designed them for rebellious fifteen-year-olds that somehow had to make up for living in the poorest area of the city. Finally, with Tommy’s burning stare on you, you managed to roll the cigarette almost perfectly and you turned around to send your handsome friend a triumphant grin.

“You see? I’m better than you.”

He snorted, but took the cigarette from your hands, examining it. “It looks good,” he admitted, sending you an appreciative look that sparked warmth in your heart. “Let’s try it out, eh? And don’t look at me like that, it’s completely safe, i already told you. Arthur does it all the time, even Danny Whizz-Bang has tried.”

“Maybe that’s why he’s stupid,” you suggested, earning a smile from Tommy, who slowly brought the cigarette to his lips, motioning for you to light it. You took out the box of matches from your coat pocket, setting it ablaze quickly before bringing it to the cigarette and igniting it.

The warm light illuminated Tommy's face almost angelically. It brought out his handsome features even more, his icy eyes glowing in the fire of the match. You could both see yourself and the scorch in them, the reflection a magical experience. You watched as Tommy’s orbs grew darker as he took a puff and immediately broke out in a fit of coughing, breaking the intimate moment you shared.

A laugh escaped past your lips at the reaction, and with a glare, he passed you the lit cigarette which you gladly accepted, wasting no time in taking a big inhale. For a second, all was good, but then you felt the smoke in your throat, burning your intestines and skin. Just like Tommy, you began coughing, with a small laughter mixed in there. Your friend joined in, both of your chuckles filling the air and echoing through the walls.

Your attempts at stopping the laughter were unsuccessful, for every time your gaze landed on Tommy, you just broke into a fit of giggles again. Some might say that this situation - being unable to smoke a cigarette - should be highly embarrassing for you, especially since you were with a boy, yet you didn’t feel that way at all.

Truth be told, you’d never felt as safe and euphoric as you did in that moment. Perhaps it was the cigarette besmirching your mind, but that feeling that overtook you every moment you spent in Tommy’s presence, it felt real. And disarming, like a great burden was lifted off your shoulders. It was almost alarming how much he was able to do with just a genuine smile or light laughter. During times like these, your sanity and logic was dormant, letting you ravish in the freedom of rebellion.

The two of you were caught up in laughing and therefore didn’t notice anyone entering the room before Polly cleared her throat, deafening all other sounds. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school? And where’d you get that cigarette from? Thomas, you better have a good explanation if you don’t want to be grounded for a year.”

Tommy’s eyes went wide at his aunt’s frame standing in the door and automatically - like he always did when worried - he reached for your hand, interlacing your fingers and smiling as his eyes met yours. All uncertainty from before was washed away, drowned in the comfort that radiated off of you, and he ran. He ran out of the store, flying past Polly and pulling you with him, out in the cold. He left the cigarettes, but he didn’t care, because the sensation of your hand in his was enough of a drug.

You held onto him with all your might, a smile vibrant on your face as you ran, together, through the empty streets, everything except Tommy blurry in your eyes. A wide grin dawned upon his face and he let out a laugh, a deafening sound that was enough to make ecstasy run through your veins. You squeezed his hand harder, following him out on one of many acres, leaving the disconsolate alleys behind.

When you arrived by some kind of fence that stood in the middle of the field, you abruptly stopped running, your legs tired, lungs burning. Despite your panting and exhaustion, you could see Tommy smiling from the corner of your eye.

“What?”

“See that? It’s a flower field.”

“Where?” You asked and followed his finger with your gaze, immediately seeing what he was talking about. It was a mesmerising view; dozens of square metres full of flowers in all colours of the rainbow and grass so green that it made everything around seem gray and ordinary. It was surreal to see such an ethereal place here, in Birmingham.

"Let's go, then" you said, pushing past Tommy and climbing over the fence quickly.

You heard him behind you as you started running towards the flowers, enamoured by the scenery. It only took him a few steps to catch up with you, his eyes meeting yours for only a second, before he turned away and outran you. As the both of you reached the field, he turned around with his face all covered in sweat and bellowed triumphantly, as if to mark his victory.

With a roll of your eyes, you walked past him and sat down on the warm grass, looking around the acre. It was more or less like fate, that you, of all people had found this seemingly empty place. There was not a human in sight and the liberty laced in the air was refreshing.

“This place is stunning,” you sighed dreamily, averting your gaze to look at Tommy, who was gazing down on you, almost lovingly, with a shadow of a smile on his face.

“Would've been better with cigarettes.”

“You and your cigarettes,” You lay down on the grass, letting the strands kiss your skin as you looked up to the sky. “We'll bring them next time. Meanwhile, why don't you appreciate the beauty of this place?”

Tommy sat down beside you, yet his intention wasn't exactly to admire the field. Truth be told, he was certain that watching your peaceful expression was much more compelling, not to mention absorbing. If he could, he'd keep his gaze on you all day. Well, perhaps not the whole day, because your anger wasn't specifically captivating to watch.

Not that he'd mention this fascination to you. Or anyone else for that matter. That would've been like allowing all of his darkest secrets to be known to everyone, which was obviously not something he wished to experience. Yes, perhaps this was the abhorrent behaviour of a hormonal teen, but at least it kept his reputation and facade on spot. What a pity it would be if anyone - except you, of course - would detect that there exists a soft side to Tommy Shelby?

“You could stop thinking, y'know,” your voice tore him away from his thoughts. “Like, for a while. You don't have to think about everything at all times. There's something called a break.”

“I'm thinking, so you won't have to, (y/n). If I took a break, who'd save you from losing brain cells?”

You sent him a scolding look, only half joking as you sat up to hold his hand again. As you interlaced your fingers, you could feel his stare on you and you looked up to meet his gaze. Yet again, a small, yet strong feeling of fondness planted itself in your soul, not a trail of annoyance in your eyes as you leaned forward slowly, pecking his cheek tenderly. It was hardly a kiss, your lips ever so slightly grazed his skin, yet it proceeded to set his whole body ablaze.

When you pulled away, words caught in his throat, and as much as he wanted to keep his posture - to keep his reputation - he could sense it tumbling down with the look you sent him; a gaze full of endearment and passion. A part of the wall that he’d built around him collapsed in that very moment, he could feel his coldness starting to fade. It was impossible, yet true. Tommy Shelby, a fifteen-year-old with a heart of stone, was starting to melt. Because of you.

“Let’s go, Shelby. Perhaps if you give her enough flowers, Polly won’t ground you until next summer.”

1,5 years later

From that moment on, it was certain that the bond between you and Tommy wasn’t easy to break. Some might say it was dauntless, everlasting, infinite. Perhaps they were right, perhaps not. For you and Tommy, this connection meant freedom, happiness and thrill. It was all you needed, and you didn’t really pay it any more thought. Why should you worry about the future when you were both merely teens?

There was a lot of beauty in your carelessness, in the constant search of adventure, if not danger. This carelessness contained so much freedom, so much purity, that nobody dared stand in the way. This didn’t bother any of you; if anything, it only fueled your wish of enjoying your teen years. Unfortunately, this seemingly eternal glory and euphoria you bathed in wasn’t immortal, and it certainly wasn’t immune to the agony the two of you would soon experience.

And although this might sound extremely desolate and melancholic, it’s crucial to know that while the story of (y/n) and Tommy was quite sorrowful, it was also full of ecstasy, smiles, bliss and, last but not least, love. And if there is anything that is certain in this world, it’s that love, of the true kind, obviously, prevails over any difficulties. Even the ones you and Tommy had to face throughout the years.

The first occurence that brought pain into yours and Tommy’s lives was the departure of Tommy’s father. The scene took place in the Shelby household, more specifically, the kitchen, during one of the many breakfasts you’d eat with the family. It was a Sunday, the happiest day of the week that everyone both loved and dreaded, for after it came Monday, which was an appalling day to most teenagers, including you and a certain rebellious Shelby.

“Can you pass me the salt, please?” The question that left Tommy’s mouth was directed at Polly who sat on the opposite side of the table. It was obvious that with his overly sweet behaviour he was trying to make amends with his aunt after the last accident. Of course, the cigarettes weren’t part of the accident part, only getting caught was, but you tried to keep silent about that part, suspecting that Pol wouldn’t exactly appreciate it.

The woman passed him the salt, and he smiled his most humble smile, which appeared highly abnormal on his usually prideful face. You tried to suppress a giggle at his forced actions, but you ended up snorting in laughter, gaining everyone’s attention. From the corner of your eye, you saw your best friend’s amused expression.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to cover up the chuckle with a fake cough. “I’ve caught a cold.”

“Well, then perhaps you and Tommy should take a break from seeing each other until you’re healthy again, eh?” Arthur teased with a wink that evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, when his younger brother sent him a cold stare of daggers while his jaw clenched. Until you put a hand on his thigh and his muscles relaxed, that is. “Just joking, just joking.”

Tommy seemed rather pleased, or even relieved, at his brother’s reassurance and he fell back into his seat, grabbing your hand on his thigh and interlacing your fingers. It had become a reflex, an action he performed each time he felt a twinge of uneasiness inside of him. It just worked like that, you’d become each other’s source of comfort, the only escape route for when things took a bad turn or just straight up everything tumbled down around you. With him, you’d never feel alone, because in the dark he was still there, holding a torch to illuminate the way.

The two of you shared a smile, a mix of satisfactory emotions lingered in the air and the smell of newly cut grass entered the kitchen through the window. Even Aunt Pol had to raise her lip corners a little at the peacefulness that surrounded you. No, it didn’t just surround you, the feeling planted its roots deep inside you, perhaps at the bottom of your hearts. It was a tremendous start of the day, and it signalised that you would experience a relaxing rest of the week. Oh, if you only knew just how terribly wrong the signals were…

“Okay, but have i told you about that time Tom fell off his horse, (y/n)?” Arthur chuckled, leaning over the table to look you in the eyes, and absolutely ignoring Tommy’s icy stare burning a hole through his soul. “It was bloody hilarious, just listen-”

“Oh, shut the bloody fuck up, Arthur.”

The Shelby brothers broke into a fit of laughter at his outburst, and John clasped his hands together while he chuckled. Although Tommy sent you a warning look, a small giggle escaped past your lips. The whole family mutually ignored Polly, who was smoking a cigarette while saying: “Language, Thomas, language! John, Arthur, I'd expected better manners from you. Would you cut out this laughter already, I’m getting a headache.”

Despite Thomas’ annoyance, the atmosphere stayed pleasant, smiles plastered onto everyone’s faces and your worries from yesterday long gone; wiped away from your mind. It was pure bliss, a feeling of belonging and safety, that especially Tommy wished would never end. His gaze fell on you from time to time, his hand in yours as he admired your smile and laugh when you weren’t looking.

No one noticed Johnny Dogs, who’d silently (greatly suspicious, for he was a loud person of nature) entered the room, waiting for your previous conversation to die down (again, suspicious, for he did not exactly have perfect, or even adequate, manners) before he spoke with the voice of a chaplain, a veil of melancholy falling over the room.

“It’s about Arthur, Polly. No, not junior, their father,” The way he said the last word made you and Tommy exchange looks, pure fear vibrant in his eyes, as if he was already expecting the worst. With a squeeze of his hand, you made an attempt at soothing him, assuring him that nothing had happened, tyet your plan failed rather quickly as Johnny continued his sorrowful news: “He’s gone. Left for Ireland, I recall. He.. He ain’t coming back, boys. I’m sorry.”

It took a second for Tommy Shelby to realise the meaning of Johnny’s words, and it took another to realise he wasn’t lying. The guilt mixed with pity on his face showed it, leaving no room for doubt. Arthur Shelby Sr, his friend, his supporter, his father, was gone. Gone for eternity, not just on a holiday. He had vanished from his life permanently, tearing out a piece of his heart and bringing it with him wherever he went. Who knows, perhaps he’d already thrown it out on the dirty pavement and stepped on it with a smile of a sinner on his face.

Tommy saw his world collapse before his eyes; a war broke out in his mind and he was losing it, not able to resist the urge to let out his emotions anymore. It all went in slow motion; the desperate look of a defeated man he sent you, before rising from his seat and leaving the house, running as quickly as his legs could carry him. Now that the heat from your hand was absent, everything inside him felt numb. Like his blood was frozen to ice, his screams getting lost somewhere in the coolness that had devoured him whole.

First came the pain, the agony that drowned him, choked him, made all of his insides turn like someone had stabbed him with a dagger and was twirling it around in his fragile body, tearing him apart. Oh, he was so lost, in so much pain that he couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, he was incapable of anything. He felt himself wailing, shrieking so deafeningly that no other sound reached his ears. He was helpless, defeated on the ground as he screamed in agony, wishing that someone would make it stop, stop the bleeding, stop the heartache that shot through his body.

Secondly came the numbness, an abrupt ending to the pain, the dagger in his heart no longer stinging. Somehow, this emptiness, this nothing was even worse. It didn’t hurt, no, it just was and its presence tore his soul apart, piece by peace as the nothingness clouded his senses, keeping him in a state between unbearable agony and the carelessness that he oh-so-much longed for, as well as your touch. He wished he hadn’t left the room, he wished your fingers would still touch skin, he wished he was buried between your arms in a warm embrace.

And that’s when the anger hit him. It welled up inside of him like water in a glass, filling up slowly only to overflow and originate chaos. Chaos was exactly what Tommy felt; his fists clenched and a pained expression settling over his features as he turned around and, with all the force he could gather, smashed his fist into the wall he was previously leaning on for support. He hit as hard as he could, the physical pain shielding him from the mental agony that had planted roots inside his mind.

The punches were thrown furiously, one right after another, until his knuckles were bloody and the thick, red substance poured down on the ground. He felt the pain, he did, but it didn't matter, because it felt better than facing his problems, so he hit. Again and again, until the urge to cry evaporated and the punches came naturally. Stopping wasn’t an option, he continued, at least until your voice hit his ears.

“Tommy? Tommy! Tommy, stop it!” You shook him, grabbed his bloody hands and held them tightly to your chest while sobs left your mouth. “Tommy, why?”

“Because I wanted the pain to end.”

He found solace in your touch and soon, his body stopped shaking as a wave of consolation washed over him soothingly. Your embrace kept him warm, kept his heart beating just like his arms had helped you years ago in a dark alley. Your limbs entangled, you stayed on the ground, clutching onto each other as if your lives depended on it, and Tommy took in your scent, letting it fill his senses and make him happy, even if it would only last a while.

***

“Do you think they’re looking for us?” You inquired while your head rested on Tommy’s lap, your hands fiddling with the rings on his left hand.

“Probably,” He smiled softly, blowing out smoke right into your face. “We are fugitives after all, eh?”

You laughed, taking his cigarette away from him and placing it between your lips, enjoying the warm summer breeze that was present on your lane. The flowerfield had become your typical hangout domain, embellishing the time you spent together. It was a place of abscondence and oblivion, heaven on earth, a location you desired to stay in for all eternity. Your father often said that nothing was perpetual or indestructible, that anything could be crushed, defeated, yet you didn’t believe him.

The ardour you felt for Tommy, it couldn’t fade or evanescence. It would linger until you were grey and old, perhaps even longer. At least you felt that way. Tommy, well, he was a hard nut to crack. He’d opened himself to you more than he’d done to anyone else, you were aware of that, yet since his father left you sensed he’d become more clandestine; the line between truth and false began to blend and you were afraid he’d completely lose himself in the act of separating his true feelings from the rest of the world.

Despite your worries, your friendship remained the same, at least it appeared to. Truth be told, to you, it had evolved to something more than just a regular friendship. You weren’t proud of the feelings that had emerged in your heart, yet no matter how persistently you tried to chase them away, they always found their way back; poisoning and fueling you at the same time.

“(y/n)?”

“What?” You blinked at the fingers he snapped in front of you, heatness rising to your face as you realised you’d completely zoned out. “Sorry, I was just… thinking.”

“Of me, eh?” He smirked. “Am I really that distracting? Ow!” A groan left his lips as you slapped his arm, trying to suppress a smile that managed to crawl its way to your face.

“Idiot.”

A genuine smile landed on Tommy’s features and he took back his cigarette, smoking it while his gaze was on the horizon. You could tell his thoughts had wandered off to somewhere, probably a place which only existed in his mind, yet you couldn’t help but ponder what it was that had occupied his thoughts. Was there even a slightest chance it was you? Or perhaps he was thinking of that girl he’d been flirting with yesterday? Did he at the very least acknowledge that it was your birthday?

Little did you know that such contemplations were absolutely unnecessary, for Tommy was well aware that it was your seventeenth birthday. Bloody hell, it was the whole purpose of skipping school that day; celebrating you. Or, perhaps, it wasn’t the only reason. Perhaps the true reason was something else, like the anomalous twinge of jealousy he felt each time you smiled your sweet smile at somebody else than him…

No, no, the only reason he’d brought you here today was to ravish in the praiseworthy weather and give you a modest present to show you just how much he values your friendship. That’s it, friendship. Nothing else, he wished for nothing else. Those strange desires were just hormones, and he owned enough self control to get rid of them.

“Sit up,” Tommy suddenly spoke, taking hold of your arm. “C’mon, get your bloody ass up, (y/n).”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up with your eyebrows raised; an attempt at seeming careless, while in reality all your emotions were dancing freely in a mix of agitation and ecstasy. With some kind of unidentified expression, Tommy took a freshly stolen package of cigarettes out of his pocket, but instead of bringing it to his lips, he handed you the match and sent you an awaiting gaze, signalling he wanted you to set it ablaze.

You did, watching as the fire spread itself across the cigarette in wild pirouettes. Tommy and you shared an intimate stare over the flames, his eyes glimmering in the ruthless luminescence, something dangerous and menacing in his gaze. Perhaps it should’ve frightened you, but it didn’t. Quite on the contrary, it worked like a beacon, drawing you more to him than you thought was possible.

“Make a wish.” He whispered, leaning closer and bringing the lit cigarette to your face. With a smirk, you closed your eyes and blew out the flame, wishing for the only thing in the whole world you truly desired: Love. Not did you know whether it was a crave that could be fulfilled, but it didn’t hurt to try, no?

Tommy’s gaze didn’t leave your eyes for a second as he threw the used up cigarette to the side, making his hand to use by softly grazing your hand with his skin, before interlacing your fingers in a familiar manner. A sigh escaped your lips and you lay your head down on his shoulder, breathing in his scent like a drug and smiling. Being here was heaven, even if your head and emotions were a mess. Why worry? You had all eternity to solve the puzzle, your focus could be on the present time and Tommy.

“What did you wish for?”

“If I tell, it’s not going to happen.”

“I don’t believe in that shit,” Tommy said, brushing some hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. “If something’s meant to be, it’ll happen. We can control our own fate.”

The intimacy of his words caused butterflies to swarm in your stomach, electricity to spark in your veins and it turned out to be the remaining push you needed to take control of your fate. Eyes closed, heart pounding in your chest, you leaned forward and your lips melted together in an ardent kiss, in which everything but you and Tommy went into oblivion.

Fireworks went off in your mind, Tommy’s tender, yet hungry movements causing your brain to go blank; feeling nothing but bliss and absolute adoration. It made you addicted, the kiss worked like a drug, making your aching heart go up in passionate flames that burned only for him. Now you were positive that there were things that lasted forever; like the eternal flame that filled you from bottom to top, an inferno of love that was endless.

In midst of all the chaos, Tommy had found his paramour, and you’d found yours.

The kiss lasted minutes - or perhaps it was days, it was difficult to keep track of time while feeling so high, and so euphoric - but when it ended, you were the first one to speak: “I wished for you. When I blew out the cigarette, I wished for you, Tommy. Because I love you.”

Slowly, a smile formed on his face and he thought that maybe, just maybe, this was a chance for his heart to mend, to heal from all the atrocities he’d experienced. Perhaps that’s why he felt safe around you, perhaps his fate wasn’t to be an amatorculist, but a successful man with a beautiful wife and a virtuous life. With a loving gaze, he pulled you in for yet another kiss: the beginning of something everlasting.

7 years later

Silence. Ear-piercing silence that surrounded those who sat in the kitchen, you and your husband, Tommy, included. None of you moved, not even to light a cigarette. The only thing on the table was a small leaflet, with words written on it. Words that had - and would even further change - changed the Shelby’s lives for good. Words of persuasion. Words of convocation. Words of death.

“So,” Aunt Polly was the only one who dared speak. “Which ones are going? I know you’re thinking about it. I can see it in your faces. Who wants to go?” When she received no answer, she continued: “Which ones of you men are going to volunteer? Who is leaving? I need to prepare your graves. Unless you want to be buried in France, of course, which might be the case, since you’re so eager to visit the country!”

“It’s not for the frenchmen, Pol,” Tommy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s for the king. He’s asked us to fight, so we will. It’s for the country. For England.”

Seeing Polly’s unimpressed expression, John added: “We’ll get medals and-”

“Medals?” You couldn't stay silent. Not when the conversation had taken such a horrid turn. Your voice shivered as you spoke, but only a little. “What good will a medal do when you’re buried deep beneath the ground? What if you get hurt? What if you die? This isn’t some sort of sick joke! This is war, Tommy, it’s-”

“I know this is fucking war, (y/n),” Tommy’s voice shot through the silence, clear and angry, and enough to make most men curl up in a ball. “I fucking know, okay? But there's a reason behind my choice, and I'm not going to step away from it. I am going to France to fight for my country. End of discussion.”

“Discussion? This is no discussion. This is you, stubborn as always, making a foolish decision that will affect all of us, without talking with anyone. You’re not the only who’ll get hurt if you die! What about me, eh? What will I do, if the man I love dies?”

No answer came. Only a rustling sound of Tommy rising from his seat and abandoning the room, leaving you with tears welling up in your eyes and a painful sting in your heart, as you felt the sorrow plant itself in your mind. The rest of the Shelbys did nothing but watched helplessly as you sobbed, heart already aching from the thought of losing your beloved husband. Then silence. Dreadful, miserable and disconsolate silence.

***

The train made a rumbling sound as it arrived at its destination; the Birmingham train station, on which there stood thousands of men ready for battle. They all wore warm coats and most of them had cigarettes in their hands, releasing swirls of smoke as they breathed out. Merely a third of the men came alone, most had brought their wives, children; anyone they could call family.

Tommy Shelby was no exception, standing on the platform with his hands in yours as he looked you deeply in the eyes, as if he was trying to remember their shade so he could replay the beauty of them in his brain during a battle. His own icy orbs were darker than usual, a severe melancholy vibrant in his gaze. A pit of regret built in his stomach, a twinge of sorrow touched his heart. Was this really the right thing to do?

You, on the other hand, were already on the verge of crying, an uneasiness caught in your throat as you held your husband’s hands in yours, rubbing circles on the inside of his palm. It was supposed to comfort him, yet with the overwhelming feeling of despair it was difficult to make anyone happy. You wanted to speak, say your goodbyes and leave, yet no words left your mouth and you had to constantly fight the urge to sob loudly.

Tearing you away from your depressing thoughts, Tommy brought one of his hands to cup your cheek with a broken smile on his face. He leaned closer, hot breath hitting your cold skin, so your foreheads were barely touching; an action that normally would cause ecstasy to flow through your veins, but didn’t bring any more than a pinch of consolation now.

“Remember the night we spent on the flowerfield?” He whispered, and you recalled the memory. It was the first time you slept together; a night filled with sweet nothings, romance and the smell of love in the air. The thought brought tears to your eyes. “I told you I would love you forever. For all eternity, until the stars would fall and bury the world in the darkness. Remember?”

You did. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to you - it was the grand promise that you knew he would never break, for it had become part of him as much as it had become part of you. You just wished the veracity of his promise wouldn’t have to be put to test.

“Well, it still applies,” Tommy spoke. “I love you, (y/n), I really do. And I'll return from this journey, from this… war. I’ll come back to you. I swear on my life, I'll come back to you.”

You couldn't help but burst out in tears as he embraced you, and you held on for dear life, afraid that if you’d let go too early he’d dissolve. His warm and loving touch spread across your body, reviving your aching heart and mending your wounds, reminding you of his promise. It would be okay, he’d come back to you and yet again, you’d feel his touch and caress. Your love was endless, unbreakable, for all perpetuity.

“And I’ll be waiting for you. For eternity if i have to,” You kissed him passionately, ravishing in the feeling of his closeness for as long as you could. Way too early, the train tooted, and you knew Tommy had to leave.

With a last, longing gaze you touched his cheek: “I’ll be waiting for you, Tommy. I promise.”

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