• TOMMY SHELBY IMAGINES •

parenthood

She races across the hallway after slamming the door shut, you were being your innocent self, doing the dishes when you hear her burst into tears. Your heart aches for her as you zip around.

"Mary!" You call for her, wiping your wet hands on your apron. "Mary, what is it? Wait!"

You see her untamed blonde hair blowing in the wind as she spins around and faces you. Sixteen has never looked so beautiful on your little girl as she stares into your eyes and pouts.

"I hate him!" She tells you in anger.

"Who?!" You wonder, your mind instantly goes to some boy in her school. You ball your hands up into fists and your eyebrows pull together. The mother inside of you comes out in that instance, ready to attack whomever decided to be silly with your daughter.

If some chap has tried to touch her, I swear I'll kill him...

"Dad!" She answers you, and instantly, those thoughts of what a boy might have or might not have done disappear as the light wrinkles in your face pull away.

"Mum," Your daughter lets out a whimper, her shoulders dropping, "He told the one boy I liked, who actually liked me back that he'll pick out his bloody eyes! Said that even though the Beaky Plinders were finished, it didn't mean he didn't still have the evil still lived inside of him!"

You sigh, pushing the back of your hand against your forehead as if you've got a fever. Did she just say Beaky Plinders?

You approach your daughter, who is already nearly your height and hug her. Your fingers run through her hair as you smell the tobacco off of her. Your eyes roll back, knowing you want to also confront her about the cigarettes, but you go against it. Knowing that when you were sixteen, you were up to far worse.

The bond between you and Mary is something no one can touch, a daughter you've raised to become a woman who is smart and gentle, fiercely independent and witty.

"There there," You coo, kissing the top of her head.

"He's so mean!" She bites, her eyes filling with rage. "God - does not want me to be happy?"

"Love, he wants the boys around you to behave." You tell her gently, moving her so that she's looking up at you. You run your hand down her face, "Of course he wants you to be happy, but the boys your age-"

"The boy I like is different mum." She replies searching your eyes. "I promise."

"Is this Bradley Haze you're speaking of?"

She struggles at first to admit it, but nods. "How do you know who he is?"

"Mrs. Haze and I talk, Mary." You smile, "He is a good boy, he told you he liked you?"

She nods, flushing. "And I told him,"

"That's wonderful." You bring your lips up into a smile. "Come on and help me with the dishes, we can talk more about this boy and I'll speak to your dad."

"Okay." She pulls away, "I'm just going to change."

"Alright," You turn around, before remembering something. "And Mary," You call, watching as she looks at you. "It's Peaky Blinders, love, come on."

He comes home after dinner, wearing his usual Thomas Shelby attire and kisses the side of your face.

"Where's Mary?" He asks moving his lips down your neck.

"Studying in her room, like a good girl." You smile, moving your hand down his back. You feel the muscles under his dress shirt as he moves his fingers down your arm, trailing back up, granting you goosebumps.

He leaves sweet nothings down your neck, as you clean up the dishes that be in the sink post dinner. Sometimes you think the kitchen is your only home, with the amount of time you waste away there.

"Good." He says against your skin, somehow managing to take your fingers and spin you around.

You giggle against his lips as he kisses you and press your hands to his cheeks, "Tommy," You sour, "What are you doing?"

"Kissing my beautiful wife." He says in a sarcastic voice, pulling back. "What does it look like?"

You embrace him, happy that he's made it home. Sure, the Peaky Blinders have rung in their towel but a certain joy surges through your body when you hear the door open and can hear that he's made it back to you safely.

Thomas took up where he left off before the war, went back to his horses. He owns a dozen, and takes care of them every chance he gets. Somehow incorporating them in the many orphanages he's created. He's still adored by the townspeople of Small Heath, he even has a few schools, parks, monuments named after him. But you two are settled in London, with your not-so-little girl.

Speaking of her, you pull away and watch as Thomas tries to kiss you one last time.

"Tommy," You have him in the right spot, where he's gotten all of your attention and time. He has you lifted off the ground, and puts you town gently. "Mary told me you threatened one of the boys at her school."

He raises an eyebrow, "Did she now?"

You take off your apron, putting it down before moving to the table where he and you sit both. "She most definitely did," You respond, annoyed with his sarcasm. "Listen, you're her dad, you have a right to be petrified that she likes a boy."

He rolls his eyes as if I'm speaking gibberish.

Dads and their fear of their daughters growing up, fucking ridiculous, but so cute...

"You're protective over her, I get it!" You lean in, putting your hand over his.

Again silence.

"But you can't go around telling innocent boys that you'll poke out their eyes, Thomas, not with this day and age. You'll go to jail and embarrass Mary and I."

He nods, licking his lips. "So what? Mary can just fuck whoever she wants?"

Your eyes go wide, as you rip your hand away. "No! Absolutely not."

"Then let me be the dad, y/n. If someone wants to see my daughter, he should come by the house and ask for my permission."

You scoff, the thought sounds like suicide for the man who asks Thomas for his daughter.

"Oh shut up," You chuckle, "Just lay off of her, alright?"

"Like hell." He huffs, smirking at you.

Defeated, you lower your head and run your fingers over your scalp before you think of something.

Your eyes settle on his, "Imagine if you showed up to my dads doorstep asking for me, do you think my father would allow you inside let alone take me out?"

"I was no good back then," He points out, "And I dare a gangster to come to my door step," He leans back now, chuckling as he crosses his arms over his chest. "I dare him, I've still got me pistols."

You roll your eyes. "Bradley is a good guy, Tommy! Not a gangster."

He leans in, swallowing. "I want him to come here and tell me what he wants from my girl, or I'll casually show up at their date. If he touches her in anyway, I get to swing at him."

"Christ!" You shake your head and laugh. "Fine, they go on a date, and we sneak on them. That's it!"

He does that thing you hate, spitting into his palm and waiting for you to do the same. This is something you two do - by force, all of the time to promise each other something. A pact.

You spit into your hand with utter disgust and shake his hand. Your saliva mixes. He gets up to stand, kissing your forehead before grabbing himself and you cups, he pours the deep red wine into the glasses.

"By the way, no one cares about the Peaky Blinders anymore."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Your daughter called you guys the Beaky Plinders."