Tommy Shelby Imagines

Something Decadent (NSFW)

Rachel looked up from the floury dough she was kneading. It was as though her body just knew when he was here. The Peaky Blinder. He came to visit Mr Solomons every week or so and every time he was here, she couldn't explain the way her body tingled with knowing.

She had worked for Mr Solomons at his bakery for a few years. What started out as a weekend job had turned into something full time and permanent once she left school. This bakery was of course a front for Mr Solomons' other bakery; the bakery where he really distilled and exported rum, and carved out all sorts of other unsavoury lucrative deals with an array of unsavoury characters.

Rachel could clearly remember the first time she saw him. Thomas Shelby. It had been a cloudy day with a slight chill. Not that she really felt it inside the bakery where the ovens kept the small shop warm and its employees even warmer. She had just finished serving Mrs Abelson with the fruit pie she bought every week for when her daughter visited. And just like every week it had been a mind numbingly tedious affair as she painstakingly insisted on inspecting every single pie closely, convinced that some pies didn't hold as much fruit as others or that the pastry on some was too thick. Rachel's mind had switched off after she had watched her pull out a tape measure because last week she had paid for a nine inch pie, but she had most certainly only gotten an eight inch one.

The little bell above the door had tinkled and Rachel had looked up only to find the breath knocked from her body. She was alone and with a courteous nod to Mrs Abelson she hurried over to the other end of the counter to attend to the mysteriously handsome gentlemen whose ice blue eyes were visible even beneath the peak of his grey cap. He wasn't from around Camden, she had been able to tell immediately. There was just something different about him.

"I'm here to see Mr Solomons," he had spoken in a gruff brum, and up close Rachel noticed that those gloriously sharp cheekbones were cut and he had yellowing bruises on his face.

"Is he expecting you, Sir?" she had asked.

"Yes," the man had nodded, taking a drag on his cigarette as his eyes studied her curiously.

"Well if you'll just excuse me for one moment, Mr uh..."

"Shelby."

"I'll be back in a moment, Mr Shelby."

Rachel had disappeared out through the back of the bakery to the door that led to the factory floor. Ollie had been easy to spot and had confirmed that the visitor was indeed expected.

As she had ushered the man with the battered face and the strange accent around the counter and through the kitchen, she had been assaulted by the smell of musk and something that she couldn't place. All she knew was that it was nice and it was masculine. It was a smell that she would forever acquaint with the man.

Four months later and Rachel still thought of him whenever she smelled whatever that was. One of the other girls in the bakery who worked less frequently had commented that it was the same smell her boyfriend had when he was ready for a fuck. Rachel had frowned at her crudeness but the girl had giggled at her naivety.

"Morning Rachel," Mr Shelby called out as he pushed open the door, yanking off his cap and shaking the rain off of it.

"Morning, Mr Shelby," she smiled, wiping her floury hands on her stained apron. "Want me to take your coat and dry it out beside one of the ovens? It'll be nice and warm when you come back."

"Only if you stop calling me Mr Shelby," he smirked and her stomach flip flopped.

"Sorry," Rachel grinned, taking the coat from his hands, blushing when he accidentally brushed against her own hands. "Mr Solomons is waiting for you in his office. Ollie's had to nip out but he said to tell you to go straight through. I'm presuming you know the way by now?"