Peaky Blinders. One shot and imagines

Blind - Part 5 - Arthur x John x Reader

"Let him go. He'll be right.............." Arthur said, as he pulled (Y/n) back into the chair.

"Its his own fault.............." The oldest Shelby continued, as he placed his hand on the teapot in front of him. Grumbling slightly, as he felt it was cold.

"Just let him blow off some stream, and he'll be fine.........." Arthur added, as he got to his feet, grabbed the teapot from the table, and made his way over to the sink, pouring the contents of the pot down the drain. (Y/n) looking to Tommy, who just gave her a reassuring nod, before lighting his latest cigarette. Her eyes turning to the door through which John had just stormed.

Arthur was right; John had brought all this on himself. He had disrespected her, one too many times. The younger Shelby's eyes always on some other woman, when she was right by his side. (Y/n) having found him on more than one occasion, as he had been last night, screwing some whore that probably thought that being able to say that she had fucked a Shelby, would get her some kind of credibility in town. Yet all that said, it didn't mean that she didn't feel a little something in the pit of her stomach. Something that was gnawing at her insides. And as much as she was still angry at her best friend, she couldn't get rid of the feeling. Of this desire to follow after him, and tell him that no matter what he might think was between her and Arthur, it wasn't true.

Johnny had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. They had been though everything together. If he got in trouble, she was in trouble with him. If he got hurt, she was there to patch him up and come up with a good story to explain it away. She had been there for him when his mother had taken her own life; he had been there for her when her grandmother had passed. She had been there to see him off to the war; and even though he had never sent her a single message in reply to her letters, never let her know that he was alive, she had been there to welcome him back, when he had returned from that war. (Y/n) never happier, than when she had seen his face amongst all the other men that made their way off the train. So, given that, could she ever really ignore the part of her that cared for John? The part that loved her best friend.

"Right. We'll have a brew, then we'll get ta the Garrison." Arthur announced, as he finished filling the kettle and placed it on top of the stove. (Y/n) smiling and nodding, as he looked over at her. The female Peaky hoping that a trip to the pub, and then to see Charlie and Curly, might take her mind off the look on Johnny's face, when Arthur had told him that she was his girl, now.

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John stomped up and down the cobbled stones of the street. His fists still clenching and unclenching. His knuckles turning white, as he dug his nails into the meat of his hands. He was doing his best to take all of this in; to work out what he had just seen and heard. How could Arthur, of all people, say that (Y/n) was getting nowhere being with him, all the time. How could he think that he didn't look after her, that he didn't care about her. That he had never made her happy?

(Y/n) had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. They had gone through the best and worst times, together. If he got in trouble, she would stand by him and take the punishment to. If he got hurt, she was there to patch him up and come up with a good story to tell either her grandmother, or his mother, so that he could avoid more punishment. She had been there for him when his mother had taken her own life. John allowing himself to cry, as she held him close; and he, in turn, had been there for her when her grandmother had passed away in her sleep.

She had been there on the platform to see him off to the war; and even though he had never sent her a single message in reply to her letters, never let her know that he was alive, he had written to her. John just never having the courage to send her any of the many letters that he had penned. The younger Shelby fearing that if he did send them, she might think that he was weak for the emotion, for the pain, fear and horror that he had spilled into them, and she would find herself a stronger man. John not sure that he could face receiving a letter that said she never wanted to see him again. Yet despite that, she had still been there to welcome him back, when he had returned from war. John sure that he had never been happier, than when he had seen her face amongst all the other people that were on the platform.

Then it hit him. How could he have been so fucking blind. So fucking stupid............All this time, all these years, he had been in love with her. He loved his best friend. If he didn't, why would he have worried about sending the letters? About the notion of her being with another man. Why would he be angry at his brother for what he had said? Angry that Arthur had taken his place at her table and eaten the breakfast that should have been his. But then something else hit him, something bad. The realisation that even though he loved her, he had done nothing but hurt her. That every time they had been together, he had looked to other women. He had kissed girls, and done far worse, while he should have been concerned with her. John looking to the door, wondering whether he should make his way back inside and tell (Y/n) all this. That he was sorry for all that he had done, and how he had treated her. Yet he stopped himself. Arthur was right, she deserved more; she deserved better. And if that meant that she was Arthur's girl now...............John turning and making his way down the street, hoping that a few, very large drinks, might just help him forget about losing the girl he loved.