• TOMMY SHELBY IMAGINES •

black beauty (requested)

"Oh fuck off." You murmur under your breath as water leaks from the ceiling and falls right on top of your head. Pushing your chair back, you quickly get up and look at your accounting papers that begin to get wet and instantly, you shriek, reaching for the papers. You push your glasses up against your face before walking towards Polly who lightly hums to the record player as she has her usual morning smoke.

Your nose scrunches up, as you've never been fond of the scent of smokes.

"The roof of this building needs to be checked out." You tell her before noticing the whiskey in her cup of tea You look at her with a sick look, putting your hand on your hip. "It's the bloody morning, Pol!"

"It's the bloody mornin', Pol." She mocks you, something she typically does because apparently you sound too posh.

Blame that on not being a Birmingham Baby.

Polly, with all of her glory and power lifts the teacup and puts her pinky out. She slammed back the wee bit of whiskey left in her cup before sighing. "You know I love yous to death dear, but you've got to get that stick out 'cha arse."

"I'll get the stick out when you stop it with the whiskey for breakfast." You lean in and smirk at her. She sticks out her tongue making you grin. "I love you too, but I need a number for the leak."

"If the roof is leaking, you phone Finn, who'll phone Curly or Charlie and they'll get it sorted out."

"Alright." You reply as you turn before remembering that soon you'll have to do payroll and Jesus you need a proper dry desk for that.

Spinning back around, you look at Polly and smile slyly. It's obvious that she wants nothing to do with you.

"Say, can I use your desk while Finn calls-"

"No." She laughs, absolutely sure of herself. "No bloody way."

"Why not?!" You gasp, genuinely shocked by how cold she is.

Polly crosses her legs and points at your desk. "Because you can't seem to clean up the mess of your own desk, what makes you think I'll let you make a pig sty out of mine?"

"Ouch!" You laugh, unable to help it. You do have a tendency to be quite the cluttered soul.

She then points across the room to Tommy's part of the office. "Take Lizzie's desk-" she officers up.

Lizzie's desk, clean, neat, tidy, and too close to Tommy's.

"Jesus." You sigh, your shoulders dropping. "Have mercy on me, Polly." Come on!

"What! She's on leave, it's a good desk with plenty of room and you can dirty it all you want."

"Dirty what?"

The door to the office swings open revealing a very handsome Thomas Shelby. You watch him, as he raises an eyebrow at you. He's beautiful, a great specimen to look at. But his soul is probably the ugliest thing you've ever seen.

Truth be told, Thomas and you have shared very little words since you've been hired. And you only come to him when he needs to sign the big company cheques. You really don't mind the lad too much, he's just rotten. It was the story that circulated around town that made you hold your breath around him.

One snowy night years ago, while the night was quiet and everyone was asleep, Thomas ordered a few of his mutts aka Peaky Blinders Boys to ambush a minor. A minor! The boy later died in hospital with trauma to his head, he was twelve years-old.

He's a cold hearted murderer, you murmur in your head as he sends you a welcoming smile.

Polly talks to him as you lower your head. You begin to walk away, heading to your desk before he calls your name.