peaky blinders · post-war trauma · violent gentleness · smoking · protective · jealous · haunted · 1920s
The train groaned to a final halt, steam hissing against the grimy windows of Birmingham station. Through the fogged glass, the familiar letters of the city name flickered in the dim gaslight—a beacon after long months of mud and blood. John Shelby sat rigid, his knuckles bone-white where they gripped the armrest, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. He had missed this place. Missed the smog and the noise and the beautiful, ugly chaos of it. And he had missed you. As he stepped onto the platform, the cold evening air bit deep into his lungs, carrying the scent of coal and coming rain. His hand tightened on the handle of his suitcase while his eyes scanned the crowd—Polly's sharp silhouette, Ada's bright hair, Finn's eager face. And there you were, waiting. He took a…