Blue-Eyed Devil | T. Shelby Imagines

➥ The Proposal

The walk toward The Garrison is silent between you and Ada. You tried to calm your nerves but nothing worked. So you resorted to holding the small handgun that sat inside your purse, perhaps feeling strong would help. Or so you thought, the gun only caused your hands to shake more. You decide to think about when Thomas "gifted" you with the weapon.

⎯⎯

Aunt Polly told you that Tom wanted to speak to you, it confused you as Tom could have just come to the flat you managed to find. After staying in the spare room for almost two months, you decided to actually look for a home of your own. Not too far from the Shelby's house sat an unoccupied home for rent. The second floor was being used by a family which meant you had to share a bathroom so you often would go to the Shelby residence for a bit more privacy.

When you entered the Den, it was strangely empty. It was midday, it should have been buzzing with men placing their bets. But it wasn't, this struck you as odd. That wasn't the only thing that stood out to you either, you had expected to find Tom sitting in his office, looking tired as he normally did. But instead, you found him sitting in the kitchen, with tea instead of whiskey in front of him. He looked up when you saw him and there was something unnerving about the look in his eyes.

You couldn't place what emotion he was feeling but it looked like something unpleasant. "Would you like some tea?" Your answer was a simple nod of your head as you pulled the chair across from him out, scraping loudly on the floor despite you lifting it off the floor the best you could. Sitting down, not saying a word as Tom handed you the cup of tea.

"What's the matter?" You're quiet, worried Tom's going to tell you he never wants to see you again. You warned him about your bad feeling associated with the new barmaid, Grace. The feeling wasn't something you'd never felt before and according to Polly, it was your Gypsy blood from your mother. Usually when you have a bad feeling– or intuition rather –about someone you're typically right.

Tom sat his cup down before reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarette case. "I got you a gift." He runs the end of the cigarette along his lips and you stare at him shamelessly. You knew Tom felt something too, you tried to explain that you felt more than friendship with the blatant flirting and the long stares but it seemed to go nowhere because of Grace.

And you knew you couldn't hate her, but it did feel so nice to try and place blame on her for Tom's... lack of feelings for you. "What for?" You too sat your teacup down and reached for Tom's cigarette, he took it from between his lips and handed you it before grabbing a new one. It was already lit and the damp feeling made you feel sad. This would probably be the closest you'd ever get to kissing your best friend...

"Protection." This made you wonder what it could be. At first, you thought it might be a Shelby ring with a large "S" stamped into the metal or maybe a necklace. Now, you're at a loss. What could he give you that would also give you protection? "You're with us so you've got enemies too."

"Comes with being an idiot."

Tom's lips perked up as he took a long drag from his cigarette, "How so?"

"I'm with the Shelby's, you lot are always in trouble." Your voice is steady but the weight of your words doesn't go unnoticed by you two. Tom nods and holds his cigarette with his mouth as he stands up, leaving the kitchen without an explanation. Instead of following him like a lost duckling, you drink the rest of your tea. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste.

When he returns from his "adventure" in his hands is a large black box. He sets it on the table, you stare at him in confusion, "It's your gift Y/N, open it." He points with his cigarette as you set your own in the ashtray. The box opens with ease and inside sits a small silver gun. You give Tom a pointed look.