Peaky Blinders Imagines

Wrong - 3 - Finn Shelby

December 19th, 1925

"He saw my daughter with a Shelby. A fucking Blinder!"

You chew your lip, trying to think of some god damn way to dig yourself out of this mess.

"How can you trust anything he says! He's a drunk, ain't he!"

"Don't you dare speak about your brother like that. At least he has morals, and isn't running around like some low life!"

"Morals? Morals?" You snap. "You'd rather a drunk as a son rather than a happy daughter who's with someone who loves her!"

You realise what you say as soon as it leaves your mouth , and you'd do anything to grab those words out of thin air and stuff them back in your head.

"Love? What do you know of love? Fanciful romance from those bloody trash books ya read?"

Tears start to drip down your face.

"I know love more than you and mum do. I'm not with Finn because of convenience-"

Your fathers face began to turn purple with anger, and the vein in his head became prominent.

"So it's Finn, eh? The boy whose filled your head with all these daft ideas. I expect you think he loves you too?" Your mother's voice interjected - calmer than your Da's, less frightening, but angry nonetheless.

"He does. He treats me well, Ma, can't ya understand?"

"You think a Shelby is going to love you, Y/N? Or does he just want your body?" She had a vindictive look in her eyes.

"How dare you." You spat at her, pushing back your chair harshly, making to leave.

"You're not to leave this house." Your Da's voice was quieter now as he stared into his cup. "Not without me or your mother. You're not seeing this Finn boy again. If I see him within a mile of this house, I'll kill 'im regardless of his last name."

"How are you going to stop me." You snapped.

"You'll do as I say, Y/N. I'm your fuckin' dad, and if you can't respect that, if you want a no good hooligan over us, then there's the door. But don't expect it to be open when you come crawlin' back."

Tears flowed down your cheeks, faster now.

You'd told a Finn this a million times, over the past few months. You were just like him. Your family loyalty ran deep, deeper than your pure adoration for him.
You nodded, briefly, turned to walk up the stairs almost robotically.

Just as you reached the entrance to your room, you saw your brother, standing in the doorway of his own, a cigarette hanging from his lips, an almost vindictive smile on his face.

"How could you." You spat, sobs beginning to wrack your body, feeling the nausea you'd been experiencing for weeks start to creep back, as you slammed the door behind you, and promptly threw up into the basin on the dresser.
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The second time you met Finn Shelby, it was, yet again, a pure coincidence, three weeks afterwards.

You were relaxing by the Cut, eyes puffy and red from another argument with your family - one which George has started, and you'd been dragged into, as was the norm, when you heard footsteps from behind you.

A boy - one you recognised from that day outside the Garrison was kicking the fallen autumn leaves that hadn't quite decomposed yet, angrily, his jaw tight, and it was only when you coughed slightly that he noticed you.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know anyone was-" He started, adorably shy, for who he was , at least.

"S'alright. Thought I had a great hiding place, I guess not." You grinned slightly, tentatively.

He shrugged, turning to walk away.

"Don't let me drive ya away. You look like you need a break as much as I do." You said quietly - quiet enough that he could ignore you, pretend he didn't hear, if he wanted to, but could also accept if he was inclined to.

"I... Alright."

He sat a few feet away, knees not quite tucked under his chin, but almost, staring into the idly moving water. You let him have a few minutes of silence, before you tried to speak.

"So, what's up? I dunno about you, but I only come here to get away from people."

"I could be meeting someone here, for all ya know." A ghost of a grin flickered on his face.

"I doubt it. You'd tell me to leave."

"And you would?"

"Course I would. You're a fucking Blinder boy, aren't ya. I don't know about you, but I quite fancy keeping my eyes. Been told they're pretty, ya know?" You grinned, a teasing tone in your voice.

He snorted loudly.

"You know, you're one of the first people outside of my family that aren't piss terrified of me."

"Oh c'mon, look at those freckles. You wouldn't harm a fly, let alone me." You laughed, scooching closer to him.

"You seem pretty confident in that. Like you haven't heard the stories of what I've done. What my brothers have done."

You shrugged. "Stories are just that, sometimes. And if not ... well, I don't have to believe it. I can live in my own little dream world, can't I?"

He smiled. "Your dreamworld sounds like a nice place."

"It is. You should visit, sometime." You grinned sleepily, staring at the clouds.