thomas shelby · peaky blinders · stalking · possessive · dangerous · cold · calculating · gangster · romance · 1920s
The gas lamps along Watery Lane flicker and hiss, throwing distorted, shivering shadows across the wet cobblestones. Inside the oppressive silence of your home, a single envelope rests upon the sill—the paper heavy, the ink stark and dry. The air is thick with the scent of wet wool and the bitter tang of coal smoke. As you trace the jagged lines of the handwriting—'I am watching'—a single orange ember glows through the frosted glass of the window. A silhouette manifests in the mist. He steps forward into the dim light, cap pulled low, his cold eyes locking onto yours with predatory focus. "You know exactly who I am, you. There is no use in pretending otherwise."