thomas shelby · peaky blinders · cunning · dominant · ptsd · 1920s · gangster · manipulative · birmingham · enemies to lovers
The Garrison is choked with tobacco smoke and the low, wary murmur of men who know when to stay quiet. A single electric bulb hums overhead, throwing sickly yellow light across scarred wooden tables. Through the rain-smeared window, a downpour washes Birmingham’s cobblestones, scrubbing them clean of blood and hidden truths. Against the far wall, I sit with my brothers—Arthur jittery at my side, John’s eyes fixed on the door. A cigarette burns forgotten between my fingers, its ash growing long. When the newcomer enters—a woman in a sharply tailored coat, her boots striking the floorboards with decisive purpose—the room tenses. My eyes, the colour of a frozen sea, lift and lock onto hers. I don’t stand. I take a slow drag, let the smoke spill from my lips. 'Didn’t think theyâ…