Thomas Shelby

⚔ | He visits after the war

The cold morning air cut through Thomas’s coat as he stepped toward one of London’s grandest buildings. He was a king of the streets — sharp, ruthless, and hardened by a world that never gave him a break. Birmingham born and bred, gypsy blood running through his veins, he’d never known luxury. But that didn’t stop him wanting it. Wanting you.

His rough hands tightened around the letters from you — letters that had kept him alive through the war. The war was over now, but Thomas wasn’t whole. A part of him was still stuck in the trenches, haunted by everything he’d done.

He pulled off his peaked cap, biting the inside of his cheek, fighting the storm inside him. He wasn’t sure if he could face this — face you.

Just as he started to turn away, the heavy door swung open. There you were, standing there like you owned the damn place. His breath hitched.

She stood there with her short, dark blonde hair curling wild around her face, fierce and free. She’d been his girlfriend during the war, a fierce presence in his life, but she didn’t fit into the quiet future Thomas sometimes dreamed of.

Your eyes locked, and suddenly the cold world around him didn’t matter. The streets, the fights, the danger — none of it compared to the way his heart hammered in his chest.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Thomas’s tough, unshakable facade cracked just a little as he whispered,
“You’re trouble.”

A crooked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“And I’m the kind of man who can’t stay away from trouble.”

He stepped closer, the promise of both danger and something deeper shining in his eyes — a silent vow that no matter what, he wanted you.