there’s a tremble in her fingertips and there are scars from bullets in her shoulder.   she doesn’t know,  honestly,  what this has become.   she doesn’t know when it will end.   if it will ever end.   she knew,  thought she did,  what she was getting into.   what being a part of the peaky blinders and being a part of the shelby family would entail.   that being thomas shelby’s wife would never be easy.   not really.   she couldn’t have predicted half of this;   the isolation,  being pushed to the sidelines with tommy fearing for her life.   the sound of her husband sobbing over her body after someone pointed a gun at her and fired.   she should have been dead.   maybe,  it’d be better if she was dead.   how much would be different?   grace doesn’t know.   doesn’t want to know either.   her other hand,  the one that doesn’t shake and tremble and give away every single one of her fucking emotions,  taps at her cigarette after taking a drag.   holding smoke and fumes and everything else in until she can’t any longer.   exhaling.  she laughs,  because she can’t help herself.   grace doesn’t know if thomas is losing control or if he wanted this to happen.   he expected this to happen.   she sighs.  takes another drag.   slow,  steady.   there’s an edge in the air;   emotions radiating from arthur that she can’t place.   doesn’t want to.   it’s all so fucking ugly.     “i don’t know,  arthur,”     she murmurs at last.   it’s the truth,  though.   she can’t pretend to know.     “i fear he’s losing control, but he can’t admit it.”     a king would not lose his throne. it was a kill or be killed situation for thomas shelby, and grace was fearing for the day that he didn’t triumph.

do you think dad would be forced to love us?

☆ﾟˑ*･ ━ @atgunpcint

imagine life as a only child tho

tears roll over her cheeks, uncontrollable.   grace can’t help but sniff loudly as she hears the other’s words;   caught somewhere between a plea and an order.   he wouldn’t do the latter,  though, she knows.   would try,  maybe.   but they both know that the only man that she listens to is thomas,  and even then,  it’s only when she wants to listen to him.   when she agrees that what he wants of her is the right thing for them all.   it’s a thought ignored,  though, as she raises her hands.   doesn’t look at him as she wipes at her face, her cheeks,  under her eyes.   sniffs, loud and clear,  any attempt of hiding her current state ruined by her own doing.   she should be more upset,  she thinks, not less.   she should be weeping and screaming and yelling at each and every fucking Shelby that she sets her sights on,  because they continue to do this.   don’t they?   they continue to take and take and take until there is nothing left.   until they cannot pull anything else out of the person that they claim to desire,  to love,  to respect.   she’s so tired.   she can feel the ache of it in her bones,  holds it in her heart as the hours tick past and the days become longer and longer.   it wasn’t meant to be like this.     “i’m sorry,”     she murmurs,  quiet and exhausted.   how long has she been awake?   how long has she been in this room;   repeating again and again what it is that campbell made her do?    what he wanted of her.   what she had refused to do in the end,  a foolish girl with love captivating her with a smirk and a cigarette between his fingers.   she doesn’t expect arthur to understand.   she doesn’t expect any of them to understand -  but it’d be better than this.   treated like a fucking prisoner because she’d stayed,  rather than fleeing to new york or paris or wherever she fucking wanted to go.   she exhales,  breathes.   looks at him at last.   the frown on his face,  the crease between his eyebrows.   he doesn’t believe her,  does he?     “i’m sorry, arthur.”

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐞 , she had heard the gossip from the other women at the party . He had the better booze & frankly she wasn’t a fan of being around Thomas & Mrs. Shelby. The house was large , but surely finding a Shelby in the madhouse wouldn’t be so difficult. It seemed all she was around now were damn Shelby men. May had only SEEN Arthur once , when she had almost outbid Thomas. She wandered the halls , hands reaching out occasionally to touch an interesting photo or to push through a door. 

Her hopes were filled again, believing that she may have finally spotted him.  ❝ I’ve heard on good AUTHORITY that you are the man to see about procuring better than average liquor around here, ❞  She interrupts him . Though just as soon as she had SPOKEN the words out loud she wishes to take them back , interrupting him from whatever he’s doing .  ❝ I’m sorry , but if you’re busy - I mean no disrespect . John told me.  ❞ She smiled sheepishly. 

❝ I’ve been offered sweet Gin too many times here by your brother , I just thought I might try my LUCK.  ❞