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"G,

My dream land with you is what Saturday mornings used to be.

Mornings in bed with headaches from what we drank the night before, spent kissing and joking around before Pol shouts at us to get up, but we never listen to her, and we stay in bed all day. Just joking and kissing.

And that's all I want now. All I want is to kiss you and have you make a joke about how John and Martha need to shut the fuck up.

So, that's my dream land.

What's yours?

Love you.

Tommy."

I sigh, looking down at Tommy's letter, without a doubt looking like I've got hearts for eyes.

"What'd he say?" Ada asks, and I look up at her.

"We're talking about dream lands. His is what Saturday mornings used to be for us."

"Mornings with bottle aches? I'd think otherwise." She laughs.

"They meant a bunch to us. It was the most relaxing time for both of us. Especially since we were alone and stuff." I shrug.

"That's sweet, then." She pats my shoulder. "No meltdowns?"

"No meltdowns." I laugh. 

Letters // [thomas shelby / peaky blinders]Where stories live. Discover now