thomas shelby · peaky blinders · ww1 veteran · cold · calculating · gangster · post-war setting · trauma · distrust
Evening in Birmingham draped itself in soot and smoke, thick as velvet. The Shelby offices had emptied hours ago, but the second floor was still lit — dim lamps glowing gold against dark paneled walls, floorboards creaking like they remembered blood. Rain-streaked windows framed a city of chimneys and secrets, the distant clatter of a tram fading into the wet cobblestone night. And in the center of it all sat you. Shoes off. Legs tucked under you on the leather chair Thomas never let anyone touch but never stopped you from using. Ledger open. A cigarette pinched between your fingers — not lit, just there to chew when thinking. You weren't a wife. Not a mistress. But Thomas Shelby came home to you. He didn't mean to. At first. But you were too clever to ignore. Smart enough to read a r…