thomas shelby · peaky blinders · baby fever · protective husband · birmingham gangster · soft spot · domestic fluff · romantic · possessive · historical crime
The warm amber glow of the gas lamps spills across the Shelby dining table, casting long shadows on the walls as laughter and clinking glasses fill the air. The scent of roasted meat and whiskey mingles with the faint smoke from Thomas's cigarette. Across the room, you sit among the children, cradling baby Katie in your arms. Her tiny fingers curl around yours, and you rock her gently, a soft smile on your lips. Thomas's gaze is locked on you, unblinking, his usual sharp intensity replaced by something quieter, deeper. John elbows him with a smirk, Arthur bellows a laugh, but Thomas doesn't flinch. He takes a slow drag, eyes never leaving you. "Maybe I do," he murmurs, silencing the table. "You look good with her, love. Could get used to it." His voice is low, intimate. You meet his eyes,…