A Collection Of Thomas Shelby Imagines

Angry Gardening

[07:39]

Leaning down to pull out some weeds, you found yourself huffing for breath as you tried your best to pull them out at the root. You were currently working off some anger that Tommy had caused. It was over something small but it had been something that meant a big enough deal to you for you to be out in the garden in the sweltering heat as the kitchen staff watched you muttering to yourself.

"'Don't worry', he says, 'just do what you want' he says, 'take a break from your work' he says, 'let's not go away this year' he fucking says.

"Why can't he actually listen to me sometimes? All I ever asked for was for someone who would listen to me when I talk to them and clearly," you yank on the weed that was being difficult, finally pulling it out successfully, "that fuckin' worked out for me."

Continuing around the garden, you stare at the rose bush that you had convinced Tommy to let you plant last year despite his protests of it harming you from all the thorns when you were to plant it and think about when he had sneakily cut some roses and given them to you as a gift when he had upset you massively the last time.

Shaking your head ot rid of the thoughts, you step forward to cut it back and trim it a little but someone grabs your wrist.

"Don't," Tommy says.

Instantly, you pull your wrist from his grip and hiss at how tight he had grabbed you, "What did you do that for?"

He rolls his eyes and lets his arm swing down and using the other hand to wipe down his face, "Listen, love, I know that you really wanted to go away this year but we can't."

"And why's that, hm?" you muse and walk around the rose bush to tend to some other weeds that you had spotted.

"Look, the Company—"

"Oh, the company," you mock, "the Company this, the Company that, let's not blame everything on the fucking Company, Thomas, I know just as well as you do that you could very easily let one of the boys handle anything you tell them to do and I know full-well that Polly is more than capable of handling anything that might not go to plan."

He pulls his pocket watch out of it's pocket, checks the time and puts it back, the glint from the reflected sunlight catching your eyes you chuckle hysterically, "Got somewhere to be Thomas?"

"Don't call me that."

"Why? It's your name isn't it?"

He sighs again and makes to move towards you but you take a step back, eyeing him to make sure he doesn't do anything unexpected again. He begins, "You only call me that when you're mad at me."

"Hilarious. Maybe it didn't occur to you that I'm mad at you," you state, matter of factly.

"But I already told you that it wouldn't be beneficial at this moment in time if I were to take some time off, especially with Michael in America, I need to be here when the numbers come in."

"Thomas," you glare at him, "you're aware I'm holding a pair of shears in my hands, right;" you wave them in the air and he nods, "don't say anything stupid then."

Tommy looks around before muttering something under his breath and stepping forward and pulling you into him. At first, you fight him as best you can but he has a rather strong grip on you and holds you in place and prys the shears from your grip before wrapping his arms around you.

"Put your arms around me."

"No."

"Just put your arms around me," he huffs in annoyance.

Reluctantly, you wrap your arms around his torso and wait for what he is about to say next.

"I love you —"

"Tommy is that what you really came out here to say to me?"

"Ah, shut up and let me finish before you jump to all of those conclusions that you like so much," he waits until you stop fidgeting beneath him to continue, "if you want to go away that badly we can. There's trouble here, much more trouble than what I've been letting on. I've told Michael to get out of the stock market too and I'm waiting for him to say he's done so. I'll have words with him and then we can do whatever you want."

You sigh and pull your arms tighter around him in anticiaption, "And how long will that be?"

"A couple of days... a week maximum. 7 days isn't that long in the grand scheme of things."

"Okay," you reply softly, breathing in his musk that made you feel so comfortable and had been doing so for the past few years of your life.

Tommy presses a kiss to the crown of your head, "I'll get Ada up here for the weekend; tell her she can have the run of the house with Karl and then we can go wherever you want."

"Promise?"

"I promise you I will make this happen if you want it that badly."

"I love you."

"I know."

You slap his chest and feign anger, "You're supposed to say it back," you pout and look up to him.

He grins at your expression, "I love you."

- - -

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