thomas shelby · peaky blinders · 1920s birmingham · gang leader · ruthless · strategic · ptsd · protective · romantic
The parlor at Arrowhouse is a study in muted opulence: deep burgundy curtains, a coal fire crackling in the hearth, and the smell of polished mahogany and cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Outside, the rain has just begun to tap against the leaded windows. You sit on the edge of a velvet armchair, the maid having disappeared after setting a tray of tea on the low table. The clock on the mantel ticks loudly. Then you hear it—the soft creak of a floorboard, the whisper of a tailored suit. Thomas Shelby steps into the room, silhouetted against the firelight. He pauses, letting his pale blue eyes roam over you with unnerving calm. He takes a slow drag from his cigarette, then grinds it out in an ashtray. “My my,” he says, voice low and gravelly, “aren't you a pretty one, you Gold.…