Peaky Blinders Imagines

Done - Finn Shelby

It was another argument - like every other one that took place nearly every day now. You were wrapped in several blankets, to try and stave off the cold, huddled in bed, when Finn opened the door as quietly as he could. When Finn was there, you'd barely need the blankets - his almost feverishly warm skin was like a large, cuddly hot water bottle. He tried, at least , to be quiet, tonight, not that it mattered. You were awake anyway - the baby , due in just a month , was kicking again. You perhaps thought they sensed the stress you were under.

As if it wasn't enough being piss terrified to be a mum for the first time, you now had to worry about Finn as much as if he was a small child. He'd stay out till all hours, coming in drunk off his head - or on something else, something you didn't want to think about. You knew people - soldiers, mostly , who did snow. You saw how it changed them, morphed their features, their personalities, into something unrecognisable. It had happened to your uncle. And now, it felt like it was happening to Finn too. He was changing in front of your eyes.

And you didn't like it. Not at all.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes wearily, switching into the lamp on the table next to you (a new electric one, not like the oil lamps you'd had to put up with your whole life).

"Sorry." Finn winced at the bright light, though tonight he seemed relatively sober - just tired. You could most definitely relate - sleep was almost a distant memory at this point. You were sure the sleeplessness was supposed to come after the baby was born.

"What time is it?" You mumbled, more to yourself, than anything else. You checked the clock on the worn beside table - 2:46 AM. You let out a small sigh.

"Don't start." Finn mumbled, grouchily.

"I didn't say anything."

"Well, you were about to."

"We both know you wouldn't listen anyway. You never listen, not anymore." You said softly, pulling your ball of wool and crochet project off the side table, and beginning it again - you were finishing the hood for a jumper for the baby. You needed something to do with your hands.

"Will you lay off?"

"Come on Finn. I'm not asking a lot."

"Well you're 'asking' all the bloody time, and its fucking annoying." He replied , unbuttoning his shirt, getting ready to get into bed.

"Because when I ask it doesn't seem to go in, Finn."

"Can I just have some freedom? We both know in a few weeks I'll be stuck here."

He looked like he regretted the words as soon as he spoke them, as anger flashed through you.

"Oh, I'm sorry you'll be 'stuck' with your newborn baby." You said sarcastically. "Perhaps you'll do a better job being around for the baby, rather than me, because we both know you're shit at that."

He flinched.

"I'm fucking busy, don't you see? I have a job!"

"So do I! And I still manage to be home on time. I'm tired of being alone , Finn. I wake up alone, I eat dinner alone, I go to sleep alone." Your voice cracked. "I may as well live alone."

He froze slightly. "What do you mean?"

He was just about to get into bed, but now he didn't move.

"I'm so done with this life, Finn.I can't keep living like this, like I'm only valuable to you when you remember I exist." Tears dripped down your cheeks, and you cursed the pregnancy hormones.

"You can't leave me-"

"Don't you see? You've already left me."

"I haven't. I haven't. I'm sorry-"

"Finn."

"I'm scared." He said suddenly, avoiding your eyes.

"What?"

"I'm scared I'm not going to be enough for the baby. I'm scared I'm going to be a shit dad like mine was, and I'm scared I'll mess it up-"

Your lip wobbled. This certainly explained his behaviour- he had never really learnt how to express his emotions, and so he always withdrew when he had strong ones. You mentally slapped yourself for not realising this before.

"Finn. The only way you'd ever mess up this baby is if you keep on going like you are. If you keep coming in drunk, and high." You said softly. "If you are just you, then this baby will be fine. More than fine. They'll grow up happy, and knowing they're loved. I have no doubt you'll be a good dad."

He looked at you, and you extended your hand to his.

"You think?"

"Course I do. But you need to communicate with me. Promise you will?"

"I promise." He said softly, getting under the sheets, you curling up next to him immediately. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok." It wasn't, not really. But it would be. Someday.