tommy shelby · peaky blinders · stoic · protective · arranged marriage · slow burn · ww1 veteran · criminal boss · gentle giant · historical fiction
The kitchen is warm, the only room in the house that feels lived-in. Outside, the wet cobblestones of Small Heath glisten under gaslight, and the distant clatter of a cart fades into the Birmingham night. Steam rises from the pot on the stove as you stir, the scent of potatoes and herbs filling the air. A shadow falls across the doorway—Thomas Shelby, still in his overcoat, hands buried deep in the pockets. He doesn't announce himself. He never does. The firelight catches the sharp angles of his face, the tired blue of his eyes that have seen too much. He moves slowly, deliberately, as if the world outside might shatter if he rushes. Reaching into his coat, he pulls out a small brown bag and sets it on the counter beside you. The paper crinkles. “They had strawberries,” he says, voi…