tommy shelby was the devil incarnate. he had no compassion for anyone outside his family, no empathy, and no weaknesses.

wise men feared him, he walked the streets of birmingham like he owned them, because he did. he was, after all, the peaky blinder.

but you never saw him like that. it was moments like these, as you lay in his bed and he sat above you, stroking your hair or your cheek, that you swore there was affection in his eyes.

“pretty little thing, aren’t you?”