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~♡~
Thomas Shelby was not a man to cross. The streets of Birmingham were well aware of his name, his power, and his cold blue eyes that could strike fear into anyone. People whispered tales about the leader of the Peaky Blinders, about his fierce nature and ruthless actions. But one thing that surprised those who knew him best was how this hard-hearted man could soften for one person: Belle.
Belle had come into Thomas's life like a breath of fresh air. She wasn't scared of him like others, nor was she impressed by his power. She simply saw him for who he was, a man who fought hard for what he loved and protected what was his. And in return, Thomas Shelby loved her fiercely. Perhaps even obsessively.
One evening, Belle decided to go out with her friends. She hadn't been out in a while, and she missed the easy laughter and comfort of her friends' company. Thomas, as protective as he was, understood and didn't stop her. "Go on, love," he said, kissing her cheek. "But don't stay out too late, alright?"
She promised she'd be careful. But, that night, things didn't go as she'd planned.
Thomas was sitting in his office late that night, working through business papers, his mind drifting every so often to Belle. He trusted her, but he didn't trust others around her. That was when he heard hurried footsteps echoing in the hallway. John and Finn, his brothers, burst into his office, faces pale, eyes wide with panic.
"Tommy!" John exclaimed, out of breath. "There's been trouble with Belle."
In an instant, Thomas was on his feet, the papers forgotten. "What happened?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with dangerous calm.
Finn, swallowing nervously, explained, "Belle was out with her friends, but... some man tried to touch her. He didn't take no for an answer."
Thomas's expression darkened. His fingers clenched into fists, and for a moment, the room felt colder. Belle, his Belle, hurt? He wouldn't stand for it. Without a word, he grabbed his coat, his gun, and headed for the door. John and Finn followed, worried yet understanding the wrath they were about to witness.
It didn't take long to find the place. As soon as Thomas entered, the crowd fell silent. People knew who he was and knew to stay out of his way. Belle stood by the bar, her face pale, her eyes wide and filled with a mixture of fear and shock. But when she saw him, a sliver of relief passed over her features.
The man who had dared to lay a hand on her was standing a few feet away, unaware of the storm that was coming his way. Without hesitating, Thomas marched over to him. There was no warning, no chance for apologies. He pulled out his gun, and with a cold look in his eyes, shot him. The man crumpled to the ground, his life snuffed out as quickly as he'd dared to touch Belle.
Thomas didn't look back at the lifeless body; he didn't care. His eyes, instead, focused on Belle. He walked over to her, slipping his gun back into his coat, and gently took her into his arms. She was shaking, still stunned by the violence she had just witnessed, but in his embrace, she felt safer. His hand stroked her hair, calming her as he whispered, "It's alright, love. No one will ever touch you again."
With his arms around her thin body, Thomas took Belle out of the pub and into the car, where they drove home in silence. Belle's heart was still racing, but being by his side helped. She knew Thomas wasn't a gentle man, but he would do anything to protect her, and somehow, that brought her comfort.
Soon he put his cold hand on her thigh as a sign that he is with her. She felt trapped in protection again, so she placed her gloved hand on his and rubbed little circles. In return, Thomas lightly squeezed her hand so as not to hurt her delicate skin.
Once they arrived home, Thomas led her to their shared bedroom. The familiar warmth and comfort of the room seemed to ease the tension in her shoulders. He shut the door behind them, casting his coat aside, and turned to her, concern softening his gaze. Belle, who had been holding back her emotions, finally let her guard down, her tears slipping free.
Thomas crossed the room in quick strides, pulling her into his arms once again. She sank into his embrace, her fingers clutching his shirt as if he were her anchor in a storm. He held her tightly, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, whispering soothing words. "You're safe now," he murmured. "I'm here, Belle. No one's going to hurt you."
Belle looked up at him, eyes still glistening with tears, and managed a shaky smile. "I know, Thomas," she said quietly. "But I feel so disgusted-"
Thomas Shelby wasn't one to let anyone or anything he valued slip away, least of all Belle. He knew her inside and out, every gesture, every glance - she was his, and he would go to any length to protect her. That night had shaken Belle, and now, as they stood alone in the dim light of their bedroom, he could see the vulnerability in her eyes.
Belle tried to tell him how she felt, to express the mix of fear and disgust that lingered from her encounter at the bar. But before she could get another word out, Thomas leaned in, silencing her with a deep, passionate kiss. She stiffened at first, her hands pushing lightly against him as she tried to pull away. But he was persistent, his lips moving against hers with a gentleness that surprised her.
Though Belle's initial instinct was to retreat, his warmth surrounded her like a protective barrier. Gradually, her resistance softened. Thomas continued, his touch delicate, reassuring. His fingers brushed through her hair slowly, over and over, until her breathing started to calm, her heartbeat falling in rhythm with his. He was there, never letting her go.
With care, he guided her down onto the bed, his body hovering over her, protective yet gentle. His kisses continued, each one slower, more tender, as he tried to ease the problem from her mind. Belle found herself melting under his touch, her earlier discomfort slipping away as his presence comforted her, made her feel safe.
Thomas continued to hold Belle close, brushing away her lingering fears with each tender kiss. He could see the tension in her face, the worry and sadness that clung to her. More than anything, he wanted to show her she was safe, cherished, and protected in his arms.
As he held her hands, Thomas felt her tremble, and he knew she needed to be grounded, to feel his control, his steady presence. He gently removed the belt from his waist, and with a quiet, reassuring look, he bound her hands softly to the bedpost. "Trust me, Belle," he whispered, his voice deep and soothing. She nodded, the glint of uncertainty in her eyes giving way to something softer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thomas was no gentle man to the world outside, but here, with her, he was everything she needed - protective, and hers.
