make room (we're taking over here) ━ tommy shelby x male!oc!

1.

Chapter One: 

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Midnight settles over the cobblestone streets of Birmingham, casting an eerie veil as a heavy mist ascends. Tommy steps out of the garrison, accompanied by John and Arthur. He inhales the cold, damp air and glances upward, noticing the street lamps softly flickering, their golden flames dancing to and fro.

The streets are quiet at this late hour, save for the rowdy laughter echoing from within the garrison. Tommy pulls out a cig and lights it, drawing a deep breath of smoke before he exhales it, watching it swirl in front of his face.

"’m not drunk, Tommy," slurs Arthur, squinting his eyes as he leans heavily against John's side. 

John rolls his eyes, a faint grin tugging at his mouth. "Course you aren't," he says, accommodating Arthur's weight by supporting him at the waist. "I'm sure we can fit a few more pints into you, eh?"

"’nother five," mumbles Arthur, resting his cheek against John's temple. They sway backwards, stumbling into the garrison doors with a dull thud and erupt into boisterous giggles.

Tommy can't help the slow, upward curl to his mouth as he watches his brothers struggle to maintain their balance. He's about to tell Arthur that he's clearly had enough to drink, when the sound of soft footsteps catches his attention. 

Immediately the smile disappears from his face as he turns, glancing behind him. 

In the distance, there's a man slowly making his way up the dimly lit street. Tommy can't discern many details about him. This normally wouldn't concern him, however, what catches his interest is the presence of two dobermans flanking the man on either side. They're majestic creatures. With their muscular frames and alert demeanour, Tommy can tell they're very well trained. 

An aura of untamed power surrounds the man and his hounds as they draw nearer. Tommy takes the last drag of his cig, his curiosity fully piqued, and flicks the end onto the ground. He carefully observes the stranger's appearance. 

He's imposingly tall, well over six feet, with striking inky black hair and eyes reminiscent of a turbulent rainstorm. Tommy's gaze follows a jagged, pale scar that slices diagonally through the middle of the man's eyebrow, continuing its path toward his hairline and stopping just behind the top of his ear. Tommy's never seen this man before. He’s certain he would have remembered encountering someone with such a distinctive presence.

Like a moth to a flame, Tommy's gaze is drawn to the strangers. They make eye contact briefly; sharp blue connecting with cool grey and Tommy quickly formulates a plan, pretending to have run out of cigarettes. He makes a show of looking through his coat pockets with great urgency and approaches the man with a sheepish, but genuine tone. 

“Excuse me,” he calls out, dimly aware of his brothers squabbling like children somewhere behind him. “You look like you smoke and I hate to be a bother, but it seems I've run out of cigarettes. Would you mind lending me one?” 

The stranger halts, his piercing gaze scanning Tommy from head to toe. At his sides, the Dobermans sit attentively, displaying unwavering loyalty and obedience. There's a subtle upward tilt to the man’s mouth as he reaches into his own coat pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes. With a smooth motion, he extracts one and holds it out towards Tommy.

"Here," the stranger says, his voice carrying a deep, resonant tone that matches his commanding presence. A chill runs down Tommy's spine at the sound of that single word. Odd, he thinks, attributing it to the chilly night air as takes the offered cigarette, his fingers brushing softly against the strangers. 

“It’s a loan,” the man says, his words carrying a hint of amusement, as if he sees through Tommy's ruse. “I expect it back, Mr…?” 

"Shelby," Tommy responds, placing the cigarette between his lips. "Thomas Shelby.”