#michael gray x you

[warnersister]

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had been courting you for a good few months now; much longer than he would any other woman. But he quite liked you so he was more than willing to make an exception for the lovely young lady that had just moved to the area.

🪖You’d moved for a fresh start, away from your past and to Birmingham. You’d packed your bags and left home and got on the train - taking it as far as it would go and got out when the conductor pleaded with you to disembark as they’d start the journey back to your beginnings.

🪖You’d accepted the job at The Garrison, noting the sign in the window as you aimlessly wandered the streets, mindlessly questioning your intentions. The sign in the window was almost a call from God and you hurried inside, being greeted by the bar man and a few raised eyebrows at the young girl with her life in a suitcase and hair all tangled. “Y’alright love? Look like you need a drink.” You shook your head. “A job is what I need. Still hiring?” You asked and he looked you over once. “When can you start?”

🪖So eleven months deep with a flat and a job you were quite happy in Birmingham. Your specialty straying away from being a barmaid and more towards being a hostess and front of house staff. You’d seat people and prepare the hotel lodgings upstairs, and arrange rooms and port for pesky business when it came down to it. And in the process you’d captured the attention of a certain blinder who believed he had no business interfering with the life of a young maiden just getting back on her feet, but you entertained him so who was he to be so austere and deny himself such pleasures?

🪖You were shutting shop on a Saturday night, footfall substantial and you’d finally managed to kick all drunkards out of the pub after much struggle and a bit of help from John Shelby, who’d tipped his hat and went on his merry way. You’d grabbed your coat of the hanger, hearing the door bell chime behind you “we’re closed” you announced, pivoting on your heel “I know.” That all familiar voice sounded and you peeked your head. “Alright, Tommy?” You ask, getting your bag and fastening your coat; preparing for a cold winter night in Birmingham.

🪖He stepped closer and you, in turn, stepped backwards until you were trapped against the bar. “This has gone on for long enough,” he says gruffly, staring deep into your eyes and studying your face. You’d raised your brows “what has, Tom?” He shook his head and chuckled slightly. “You and I; ‘m so sick of seeing you and not being able to have you for myself.” He tells you, right arm wrapping around your waist and head dipping slightly.

🪖Your hand came up to hold him where he was and he stopped, in question. “Not like this Tommy.” You say, looking away but he grasps your chin gently to pull you back to face him. “Not like this?” He hums “Thomas, I’ve never..” you lead off hoping he’d understand what you were implying. He thought for a moment before it clicked. “Never?” You shook your head “never.” His Adams Apple bobbed as he swallowed a lump in his throat “never.” He mumbled. “And how should I go about this the right way?” He asked, settling his hands on your hips and smiling slightly.

🪖“Dinner and a nice walk.” You say and he nods with a hum. “How’s tomorrow?” You shake your head “not leaving Harry to deal with your lot on a Sunday.” “When you next off?” He asks “Friday.” “Then we’ll go out on Friday.” You nod and smile, but point a judging finger at him. “No guns” he smiles “yes sweetheart, no guns.” “And no peaky business” he shakes his head “no business.” “No fighting either, at all” you warn and he chuckles “I promise” you lean your hand up to caress his face and he leans into your touch. “Take that bloody razor blade out of your cap too.” He raises a brow “how do you know about that?” “You underestimate the amount of times I’ve carried Arthur out of this bar and nearly sliced my hand on that thing.”

🪖“I want to see Thomas. No Shelby.” You say and he blinks. “Then Thomas you shall have.” “May I walk you home?” He asks and you smile up at him “you may” and he offers an arm to walk you to your house, looking forward to taking the last of your innocence the following Friday.

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie recently started attending his local synagogue, at first yes: to reconnect with his faith, but now it was to see the young woman who attended every day, volunteering as your father was the rabbi. Albeit that sounding wrong, Alfie thought the rabbi was bordering on ancient and you were younger than him, but you were nearly twenty six so that wasn’t too bad.. right?

🧸“Ah Mr Solomons, back again I see” the rabbi commented, noted the recent inclination of Alfie’s presence at the house of God. “Well, been trying to reconnect.” He told his superior. “With God or with my daughter?” The rabbi asked and Alfie’s brows rose. “E-excuse me?” He choked on his words. The rabbi smirked with a slight twinkle in his eye “I’m not stupid” “no, of course you’re not-” “I’ve seen how you’ve been eyeing her.” Alfie quietened for a moment. “Well, y’see she’s a lovely young lady” “I agree, that’s how I raised her.” “And I’d like to ask her for dinner, with your blessing, f’course.” Alfie began to ramble but his elder cut him off.

🧸“Not with the business you’re in, Alfred.” And his mouth ran dry. “For her I’d get out of it, move to Morecambe, open a bakery, marry, have kids, y’know I’d raise them proper.” Rabbi Kaplan again hummed “but that sort of business isn’t the kind you can get out of, is it?” “You did, Abe.” Alfie corrects him and there’s a moment of contemplative silence. “You’re right I did. But no one hurts a rabbi.” “Then I’ll get ordained.” Alfie shrugged. Abraham looked at the man before him. “Gods punished me enough. He knows how much physical pain I’m in. And ‘m not gettin’ any younger. Neither’s she. ‘nd I never wanna be in this business anymore. Wanna settle down, dogs, kids, grandkids, the works.” Alfie says and Abe’s tongue protrudes from his lips to lick his dry lips as he thinks.

🧸“If I allow this, he’s watching.” The man looks up “I know.” “And if I allow this, she calls all the shots.” Alfie nods “wouldn’t have it any other way” “as in she says no, means no. She wants to go for a walk at two in the morning, you take her. She wants to come here, you bring her. She wants to get married, you wed her.” The man took two steps closer so him and Alfie were closer than any Rabbit should be with his child “she tells you to jump of the docks, you jump.” Alfie’s eyes don’t falter. “Done.” Abraham closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face “alright, you have my blessing.” Alfie nods, trying to suppress his glee, shaking the rabbi’s hand and walking towards the front of the synagogue where you were sat counting donations.

🧸“Excuse me missus” Alfie clears his throat and you look up at him, swallowing with a lump in his throat “yes?” “I was wondering if you’d like to go for an eat to bite, I mean a bite to eat, I mean-” you giggle at him “yes Alfie I’d love to go out with you.” Alfie sighed in relief and smiled down at you noting how the rabbi had wandered off elsewhere. You sealed and locked the cash box, storing it where I belonged and Alfie held his arm out for you to take “shall we?” You grin back at him “we shall”

🧸You’d been seeing Alfie for going on several months, and today he’d arranged for a restaurant to be shut down in order for the two of you to enjoy some peace and quiet together. You’d enjoyed a lovely romantic meal, accompanied by a bouquet of white tulips and a sneaky kiss to Alfie’s cheek, which he was grateful that they were covered by a large beard - disguising his beat-red features.

🧸Alfie was walking you back to his house, as you’d both previously agreed that you’d stay for the night and head towards Morecambe Bay the following day: to pick out a cottage on the seafront.

🧸You had some clothes at Alfie’s house, for events such as this where you’d decided to stay or go elsewhere the following day without needing to drop back home for anything. You were uncoiling your hair, and your gentle giant came around to hug you from behind, kissing up your neck until you giggled from being tickled, turning to kiss his lips.

🧸Your eyes surveyed one another’s for a moment, him leaning back down to kiss you in a more seriously insinuating manner - sciatica obviously not bothering him today as he managed to pick you up and lead you to his bed. “Alfie wait,” you say quickly and the man immediately stopped “what’s wrong treacle? If y’don’t want to we’ll stop here ‘nd-” “no it’s not that” your left hand fiddled with the rings on your right “what’s wrong flower?” He caressed your cheek gently. “Alfie I’ve never done anything before.” You say and his brows form a line in confusion. “Y’what?” “Alfie I’m a virgin.” You say and time almost stands still, Alfie nearly felt sick as he’d been handling you like a woman of the night and not a dignified young lady of whom was vastly inexperienced. “‘M sorry alf.” You say, looking down. Alfie grasps your chin and forces your eyes to connect with his “it’s me who should be apologising, sweetness. Your old man didn’t know. ‘V been handling y’ like ‘y know what you’re doin’.” He says gently. “And if y’ don’t want to, we don’t have to.” “No Alfie I want to.” And you could swear you could see the hearts forming in his irises, lenses constricting into something unnatural but simultaneously not animalistic. “I’ll take good care ‘f y’ love, just lay down for Alfie and let ‘im work his magic, yeah?” He says, laying you back gently on the bed, vowing to handle you like a porcelain doll in a box of feathers.

Arthur🍺

🍺You were several years younger than Arthur, he never felt like you were - he was as immature as any lad two decades his senior, but with you he never felt his age.

🍺The peaky blinders had been invited to a lavish banquet, black tie, chandeliers, live orchestra, the works. And Arthur never shied away from an opportunity to show his lover off, especially when that dress hugged you perfectly and your matching black gloves made you look so dainty and proper. He was proud to waltz into that event, feeling almost smug with ‘such a babe’ on his arm.

🍺The evening began wonderfully, three courses, all of which Arthur found laughable as he questioned the waiter why his entree was only a piece of rocket and slice of undercooked stake. Drinks were flowing and he was happy to get tipsy while to congregated with Polly and Ada, smitten to see you engaging so well with his family and them requiting his adoration for her.

🍺You’d stood at the bar, trying to gain the attention of the bartender to order yourself another rum and coke and your date an umpteenth pint. “Hiya can I just have a rum and coke and an apple juice?” You ask the man and he raises an eyebrow. “He’s so drunk I don’t think he’ll tell the difference.” He laughs and nods, heading off to get the top of shelf rum Arthur had requested he’d serve you earlier.

🍺“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” A voice asked from beside you and you peer left, a young gentlemen with slicked back black hair asked as he knocked back the rest of the whiskey he’d been nursing for a while, requesting another as well as your drinks being on him. “Yes lovely.” You say shortly. “Well I was just thinking-” he begins smugly, before hissing and you look back at him quickly to see whatever is the matter. His finger was drawing blood as the new glass he’d been given was chipped on the end, in turn slicing the edge of his finger. “Oh dear, here let me help” you grabbed one of the inscribed handkerchiefs from the pile and applied pressure on his finger, only noticing your proximity when he chuckled. “What a first acquaintance” you laugh and agree. “You’re good at this” he hums “nurse in the war.” You say, not really wanting to reflect on the past.

🍺“May I buy you another drink for your troubles? Or possibly dinner?” He inquires with an up quirked lip. “No thank-” “I think she’s quite happy with the fella she’s got, son.” An angered voice quipped from behind you through gritted teeth, an arm snaking around your waist as the boy’s face ran pale. “Mr Shelby, sorry she didn’t say-” “she shouldn’t have too. Now fuck off before I kick the living daylights out of ya.” Arthur threatens and the previously smug man makes himself scarce.

🍺“Arthur,” “c’mon. We’re leaving.” He says, dragging you through the crowds of people and hailing a taxi, still gentlemanly opening the door for you but clambering in beside you, the smoke billowing from his ears fogging the windows. “Fucking little boy thinking he can talk to my fuckin’ woman, fuckin’ bastard” he reiteratively mumbled under his breath until he reached his house, roughly taking you from the car and throwing a wad of cash at the driver.

🍺As soon as you entered the house you were trapped against the closed door, his lips attacking yours unexpectedly as you struggled to keep up with his might. “I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to” “Arthur” “little boy makes up nothin’” “Arthur” “scream my name so the little bastard will fuckin’ hear me” “Arthur I’m a virgin” the man stopped immediately, expression stopping form angered to a more gentle one. “Y’what love?” He asks quietly, tight grip on your trapped wrists loosening “I’ve never had sex before Arth, sorry for not telling you.” You could see him visibly sobering up. “Oh my darlin’ m’sorry I didn’t know.”

🍺This was the only time you’d made Arthur feel his age, his lover a virgin. “I’ll take good care of you sweetheart, if y’let me.” “Show y’ what you’ve missed out on” he chuckles and you laugh, allowing him to pick you up to carry you up the stairs and into the bedroom.

John🥃

🥃Waking up this morning and getting married to a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card. But here you are. Kneeled at the alter beside a smirking young lad who was in a similar situation. “By the power invested in me, I now declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stranger smiled and you and kissed your lips sweetly.

🥃The reception was just as hazy. Drinks were flowing and laughter was heard. Your father and Thomas Shelby seemed at peace for once and all was right with the world. When slow dancing, John had held you close and embraced you like you were young lovers wed, not total strangers at the chapel. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear and smiled as you giggled back at his remarks, fighting with icing on the cake and having an overly fun time with one another’s families after the initial shock from the morning. After all, he was incredibly charming and you couldn’t get out of a gypsy marriage that easily. Not in post-war Britain.

🥃You headed back to the Shelby Manor in a car strung with cans, attached by young children earlier in the day. You looked out the window to the vast house, feeling a hand tugging gently on your hair, the owner tucking it behind your ear as you looked at home. “Glad we’re married cause I could never pull you if I tried, gorgeous.” He comments and you laugh. “You’re joking. One drink and I’d be a gonner.” “At least we got to skip the funny business” he took your chin between your forefinger and chin “cause your all mine now, darling”

🥃He’d hurried you to your room quicker than anticipated, giggling like school children up to no good. He’d kissed you tenderly once inside, behind closed doors and away from the interference of all other prying eyes.

🥃He spun you gently, hands dropping to focus on the details of the backing of your dress; unthreading and untying the intricate lacings applied to keep the gown tight to your person. The dress fell and pooled at your ankles, him attacking the now bare skin with open-mouthed kisses and gentle pecks to the untouched skin.

🥃Coming to your front, he cornered you backwards in small steps until your legs hit the bed and you fell backwards onto it - him on top of you, kissing down your bodice animalisticly. “John?” He stopped and looked up with a hypnotic gaze in his eye “yes love?” “I’ve never had sex before.” You say shakily and he stops all movement. He falters for a moment, before climbing slightly higher in order to be face to face with you “never? You’re a virgin?” You nod back and he swallows the heavy lump in his throat as his briefs tighten.

🥃“Well then what an opportunity to consummate the marriage, aye darling?” He smirks “if you’ll let me that is” you smile and offer a kiss to his lips, him getting the green flag and go ahead to give you the absolute night of your life.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie was an old fashioned lad. From a young age he drempt of the stereotypical traveller lifestyle - never a singular home, him the homemaker, wife on his arm and umpteen kids running wild. It sounded like heaven. And from the moment he’d set eyes on you Bonnie had decided that that was your role - destined to be by his side. You weren’t a gypsy yourself, but he was certain he could sway you but either way he was happy to compromise as long as he had you.

🥊Tonight was one of, if not the, biggest night of his life thus far. The largest and most important fight he’d ever partake in, not only against the reigning champion which would secure his fate of being the new ruler, but also performing in front of the Peaky Blinders - prove himself to the trust Tommy Shelby had bestowed upon him. And most significantly, you were watching.

🥊He was stood in his changing room, allowing you to gently wrap his hands while his father gave him a pep talk. “Five minutes son.” His dad said, patting his back and nodding at you as he left to give you a minute alone before his spotlight moment. You finished wrapping the cloth around his palms and took his face into your hands, forcing him to look at you. “How we feeling champ?” You ask, trying to wake him up from his dystopian trance. “‘m scared m’love.” He mumbled as you frowned slightly. “Why’re you scared? Talk to me Bon, get it all out. You scared about the Shelby family? I’ll kick ‘em out-" “scared ‘m gonna disappoint you.” He says and you falter.

🥊“Bon you could never disappoint me, why would you think that?” He sighed, looking away before beginning to admit his desires. “Just wanna make you proud. I want to marry you and give you my children and travel as a family. But if I lose you won’t want to do that.” He grumbles. You chuckle slightly. “You’re such a dafty, Bon.” You say and his eyebrows crease. You lean into kiss him as he happily requites the gesture. “Bonnie of course I want to be with you either way. I don’t care if you loose, hell I don’t care if you don’t want to fight and walk out, I’ll walk right out with you.” You say.

🥊“I never knew you felt like that but I’d love to marry you Bon and have your children and I’d be willing to travel with you. I just need you to stop fretting and go win this. I love ya Bonnie.” You say, leaning your forehead against his. “You mean it?” He asks, giddily. You nod “I do”

🥊“God if I win this we’re gonna get started on those kids.” He says, getting riled up as the minutes tick down. You laugh at him “anything you want, Bonnie. Always wanted my first time to be with you.” You say and time stops. His father knocks on the door to hail his son out to the ring.

🥊“BONNIE!” “You’re a virgin?” “Yes” “BONNIE COME ON!” “And you want me to take your virginity?” “Yes Bonnie I trust you. Now go.” He hurries out of the door reluctantly, all riled up and heading for the ring.

🥊The knockout was inevitable, his opponent out cold in a matter of rounds, blood flowing freely from Bonnie’s nose as he celebrated by raising his hands victoriously above his head, father and Blinders crowding him to pat him on the back and exchange congratulations. But none of that mattered. It was just faint ringing in the background. All he could see was you stood a fair way back from the celebrating men climbing over the limb body on the ground no one had seemed to care too. He looked upon your innocent doe eyes and soft smile staring back at him as he blew you a kiss; and never has he been so desperate to get away from his own party.

🥊And after a good few hours and countless attempts to get you all to himself, you were back in Bonnie’s humble beginning: laid on your back as your boy thrust into you gently, trying not to hurt you while simultaneously trying to adhere to his desperation for you. “Faster Bon, please.” “Wanna give me a child? Is that it?” He asks and you nod meekly, as he quickens his pace desperate to bed his maiden in his own place called home.

Isaiah♟️

♟️Isaiah had been trying to get to you for many many years. Countless attempts proving fruitless from not only your rejections, but also your elder brother’s: Finn’s. Any time Isaiah had any suggestion on courting you he was shot down by his friend, who’d smack the back of his head and scold him for thinking such things. “I’ll cut your dick off and shove it in your ear if you keep thinking about my sister with it” he’d tell him.

♟️But tonight, oh tonight. Darling you looked ravishing. The Blinders were celebrating a grand festivity at Shelby Manor, someone was getting married.. or someone was dead, Isiah needn’t have cared less. Because when you cascaded the stairs, Mary Jane’s on foot and tight black dress clung to your bodice, Isaiah had to physically refrain himself from grabbing you from the get go.

♟️Sure, he’d mingled with others and drank freely with the brothers; but not once did he stray his eyes away from your figure, never letting you out of his sight. Not when you looked so delicious and drinkable, mouth running so dry he’d have to reiteratively lubricate it with whiskey. A bit of the good ole’ ‘Dutch-Courage’, aye?

♟️Finally noticing an opportunity when you brother wasn’t lingering over your shoulder, scolding you for wearing such a gown, Isaiah made his move. He slivered to the bar beside you, where Harry was offered a well-paying job serving for the evening and told him to get you another of whatever it is that you were drinking. “Your brother lets you wear a dress like this?” He questions, knocking back the rest of his whiskey and hailing for another.

♟️“No. But I am not Finn and he is nor I” you tell him, nursing the edge of your glass with your finger absentmindedly trailing it. He leant closer. “Tell you, if you were my woman that dress would be on the floor of my room right about now.” He promised and you shivered at the thought. “But I’m not your woman, am I Isaiah?” You rhetorically ask, sipping and please to feel the alcohol running down your throat.

♟️“Oh god if you were.” He said, trailing off. “I’d have you married, knocked up, never not pregnant. Have your last name Jesus. My dad would do the ceremony, y’know. Get you a nice little bouquet and pretty white dress I get to ravish you in afterwards.” He said “well you’ve got it all planned out, huh Mr Jesus?” You snort but you are backed against the bar, two hands either side of your waist as your belittled by the taller between you.

♟️“Believe me I’ve dreamt of the day since I first saw you, just your fucking brother wouldn’t let me.” You eye his lustful expression. “As I said, Isaiah. I am not my brother, nor is he I.” You repeat slowly, relaying that your older sibling(s) had no say in what was going on at that moment. “You’re playing with fire, little girl” he warned “then let me get burned” you say, batting your eyelashes doe-like and innocently, as you dared him to make the move your core had been dying for for decades.

♟️His nostrils flare as you wrap his tie around your hand and yank at it harshly, bringing an ear close to your lips to offer a promise never before foretold. “Isaiah I’m a virgin” you whisper, before releasing his tie and straightening his suit. He follows the lump in his throat before surveying the room once and looking down at you, grabbing your hand to drag you through the crowds of people and into the safe proximities of his bedroom for newly discovered events.

♟️The evening died down and the chatter faltered, as Thomas Shelby announced a new betrothal in the family. However he was unable to promise the two, because the bride and groom were missing.

Michael🎱

🎱Oh god I’ve been waiting for this one. Michael absolutely eats that shit up.

🎱You and Michael were first acquainted when himself, Thomas and John travelled to the Cotswolds in order to engage in some legal business with the Wentworth family - Tommy spoke business with the ceo of the family, while John entertained the mother and Michael; the daughter.

🎱Michael was an old fashioned man with old fashioned views. He liked his women obedient and untouched and willing to listen to his every word - just like they were supposed too.

🎱They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

🎱“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

🎱“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

🎱“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

🎱“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

🎱“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

🎱“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

🎱“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

🎱“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

🎱“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

🎱“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

🎱“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

🎱“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

🎱After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

🎱The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

🎱“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

🎱Before either of you really knew it the two were being wed on the great estate of the Wentworth Mansion, both smiling at each other at the end of the aisle like giddy school children with a secret. Within the hour you were husband and wife and Michael had the life and wife he had so hoped and dreamed for.

🎱The reception was a glamorous event; dancing and drinking and the celebration of you being safe, and the Shelby name moving up in the social hierarchy of local reputation. Yourself and Michael had snuck off for a moment alone with one another, to discuss the whirlwind of a day and plans moving forwards together. “May I say my darling you look absolutely divine.” He comments, taking your hand to make you do a full 360 turn to display your attire to him. He swore the dress was adorned entirely in Tiffany crystals. “Thank you, you are too kind.” He tuts “I can never be too kind to my wife.” He smiles.

🎱“And may I be so reckless to say I cannot wait to get this dress of you either” he smirked and you raised your brows as your cheeks reddened. “If that is no problem of course, my lady?” He confirms and you nod. “I apologise for my experience, for I have never before been with a man.” You admit, bashfully and his mouth ran dry. “Never?” You shook your head in confirmation. “Never, Michael.” You say and he gleefully picks you up to spin you around as you laugh at his response. “Well my darling, I hope you know I am prepared to take more than good care of you this evening. And of course continue the family name.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️You were the first girl Finn really cared about. Sure, he’d been on dates and hired whores to satisfy his desires. But he’d never really given much thought into actually taking his time with a girl. Until he saw you working at the bookshop two streets in the wrong direction from the Garrison.

🎞️Him, Isaiah and Bonnie were basically being little shits on the streets of Birmingham when he’d saw you organising shelves through the window, brow furrowed and tongue slightly protruding from your lips as you struggled to place an old hardback on the top shelf. The other two lads had carried on walking whereas Finn had stopped, the other two halting a few ways down to road to figure out where their third had gone, turning to see him awestruck at the bookshop window.

🎞️They hurried back, laughing at the boy who was notably illiterate. Finn could not read, nor write but was staring into the bookshop. “What y’ doing Finn? No picture books in there!” Isaiah joked, straining to see what Finn was so intently staring at. “Ah the girl” Bonnie elbowed him. “She won’t want you mate.” Isaiah informed him “she’s got Shakespeare and Wordsworth. You don’t even know who I’m on about.” And Isaiah was right. You did look dignified and well read because you were. And he was just Finn.

🎞️But he found himself two street in the wrong direction every day nearly, at least when he could find time to slip away. And Isaiah and Bonnie were sick of their lovesick friend ditching them to stare at a stranger awkwardly through a window. Then one day, when the three were repeating their galavant from the first time they saw you, Isaiah shoved him in the door.

🎞️The bell chimed and you turned from your stepladder “just a minute!” You climbed down and approached the disheveled boy at the door. “Can I help you?” You ask “book” he says and you crease your brows “…book?” Isaiah chimed in behind him “he wants to buy a book” he confirms as he smacks Finn around the back of the head. “Any book in particular?” “My first alphabet!” Bonnie exclaims, and the two boys begin cackling loudly and Finn grits his teeth and pushes the two out of the door.

🎞️“Eh what do you recommend?” He asked, scratching the back of his head and his eyes wander on all the paved backs of untouched literature. “What do you like? Fiction? Non-fiction?” Finn looks at you gone out. You look around for a simple poetry book you know is easy to understand “here, try this it’s one of my favourites” Finn nods and turns the book over in his hands and has a quick flick through. “How much do I owe you?” He asks, pushing his hand into his pocket. You shake your head “just come back and exchange it once you’re done.” Finn nods. He could do that. He thanks you and begrudgingly heads out the door to his friends who were still hounding him for the situation and he just smiles at you through the window.

🎞️Finn was getting ribbed week in and week out by both his friends and older brothers, Arthur drunkenly questioning in front of everyone why he hadn’t hired any whores recently and why books were appearing by his bed when he couldn’t read. The family laughed as his face reddened, Isaiah explaining that the lovely young lady down the bookshop had his interest peaked.

🎞️“Y’got her in bed yet?” John asked with a smirk and the younger boy elbowed him sharply. “No.” He mumbled. “No? Ol’ ‘just want a shag’ here hasn’t gotten a lady in bed?” His brother joked. “No she’s not the kind of lass I want to put off.” “Ah” Tommy ruffled his hair. “She’s the real deal then?” He smiled while lighting up another cigarette. Finn thought for a moment before nodding. Yeah, you were the real deal.

🎞️“Date” Finn said as he crashed through the door of your bookshop. You raised a brow at him. “Date with me, please.” He says, panting. “Finn are you alright?” You ask, placing a hand on his back. Me nods, heaving and placing his hands on his knees. He’d just ran here from being with his family. “Do you want to go on a date with me?” He asked when he’d finally gotten his wind back. You smiled and nodded. “Yes I would Finn, when?” “Now.” You raise your brows. “Right now?” “Yeah. If you’d like.” You look down at the dainty wristwatch you were wearing and decided it was wishful thinking if you thought that you were going to get any more footfall in the next hour before you closed. You hummed and nodded. “Sure, let’s go.”

🎞️Finn took you to one of the nicest restaurants in Birmingham in walking distance, waiter seating you quickly after he noticed who Finn was, handing the two of you two open menus. You looked over the options, but was soon distracted by Finn’s conflicted face. “You alright, Finn?” He nods. “What’s up?” He ponders for a minute before mumbling something. “Sorry?” “I can’t read and this has no pictures.” He admits sheepishly, averting his eyes from yours.

🎞️“You can’t read?” You ask, mulling over the past several weeks where you’d be too-ing and fro-ing with Finn with your book recommendations. “But you’ve been borrowing books for months-” “just to see you.” He says, looking down as a smile began to grew on your lips. “I understand if you want to leave. You’re smart and pretty and I’m just an illiterate gangsta.” He says, mentally readying himself for your leave. You placed your hand on top of his where it was laid on the table. “Finn that’s so sweet.” His brows shot up. “You did that for me?” You ask, biting your lips as he affirms your question. You place a chaste kiss to his cheek as you realise just how much the blinder truly cared about you.

🎞️“Let’s get out of here.” You say, breaking the silence. “Seriously?” He asks, moving closer for a more private conversation. “I’m serious. Let’s go.” You say, “really? We don’t have too if you don’t want too-” “Finn Shelby. Let’s go.” And you didn’t have to tell him again, running back home like two giddy school children, hiding away in his room for the rest of the evening, ended by you laying on his bare chest while he drew shapes into your relaxed shoulder.

🎞️“That was better than I expected for my first time.” You admit, staring at the ceiling. It takes a few minutes for Finn to clock onto what you’d just said. He looks down at you, movement of his thumb faltering. “You were a virgin?” He asks, lump in his throat growing as he forced himself to swallow it. “Yeah.” He smirks.

🎞️“Nice.”

#masterlist #xreader #smut #fluff #warner sister #angst #requests #x you #imagine #peaky blinders #Thomas Shelby #John Shelby #Arthur Shelby #Alfie solomons #Bonnie gold #Isaiah Jesus #Michael gray #Finn Shelby #Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby x reader #John Shelby x reader #arthur shelby x reader #Bonnie gold x reader #isaiah jesus x reader #michael gray x you #michael gray x reader #finn shelby x reader #Peaky blinders x you #Peaky blinders headcannon #headcannon

[zablife]

Weathering the Storm

Bonnie x pregnant wife reader

Summary: When Micheal comes to your camp for protection, Bonnie is unsettled by his arrogance and hostility toward you.

Author’s Note: This part two to the fic Stay was requested by a lovely anon. However, you do not need to read that fic to understand this one. A bit of angst, but mostly fluff as Bonnie protects his wife.

Warnings: hint of smut, pregnancy, language, ethnic slurs, fighting

Bonnie slung an arm over your waist in his sleep. You clung to him tightly, waking him and he asked, “Everything alright, dove?”

“I’m fine. Just cold,” you said, burying your face against his bare chest. 

“Well, let me warm you up,” he said with a smirk, covering your body with his in an instant. 

He hovered over you for a moment as he arranged the blankets and you looked up at him adoringly. When he lowered himself to you once again, he slipped a hand beneath your neck, cradling you gently and placed his mouth to yours, slipping his tongue inside as softly as possible. Bonnie was always delicate with you, never in a hurry and always so loving. He began rolling his hips over you and you giggled into his mouth.

You let out a quiet moan and he stroked your hair, watching you in adoration. “Do you still want the child we’ve been speaking of?” he asked sincerely.

“You know I do,” you answered, raising your hips toward him suggestively. He smiled at your admission, quickly ridding himself of his shorts and hitching up your night dress. “I love you so much, y/n,” he said as he seated himself within you fully. The rest of the early morning hours were spent with your husband pumping himself languidly within your walls, pulling the sweetest sounds from your throat as you enjoyed one another. As newlyweds, it was expected. However, you had recently become aware that your efforts were redundant.

You would have liked to tell Bonnie of your suspicions, but the recent excitement surrounding the Shelby family and their war with the Italians had made it difficult to find the right time. This morning wasn't ideal either as Bonnie reminded you to dress quickly in preparation for the arrival of a visitor.

------------------------------------

You held Bonnie’s hand tightly as you heard the rumble of a car engine heading down the dirt path toward you, an inconspicuous meeting spot only travelers knew how to find. Bonnie had informed you there would be someone coming to stay in your camp, but he didn’t tell you much else. In truth, that was all he knew himself. So much of his work for the Shelby family was shrouded in mystery. You didn’t like secrets. You and Bonnie had never had kept things from each other and you didn’t intend to start now.

The car came to an abrupt stop directly in front of you and your eyes went wide at the sight of such an expensive automobile. Polly Gray sat in the back seat with a young man in a dapper looking suit and elegantly combed hair. He eyed you suspiciously and you averted your gaze, looking around anxiously before whispering to Bonnie, “Is this the fella we’re waiting for?” He quickly nodded twice before Polly opened the door and exited with a small suitcase.

“My son, Michael,” she said by way of introduction as a young man stood anxiously on the running boards, surveying his surroundings cautiously as he stepped from the car with the assistance of a cane. 

Suddenly he shook his head in disagreement. Then in a firm, clear voice he said, “No. No fucking way!” He jerked his gold cigarette case from his pocket as he warned, “I’m getting back in this car.”

Polly rolled her eyes at him and you looked at Bonnie with a confused expression. Michael acted as though it was an imposition on him to be here and not the other way around. His haughty behavior floored you as he argued with his mother about staying in a hotel rather than following your family to camp with the Palmers and the Boswells. From their heated conversation you could tell that he was a wanted man and his life was in grave danger, yet he acted as though it were a trifle.

Aberama stepped in at that moment to reassure him that your family would put up a fight for him if necessary. Polly nodded appreciatively before diving into the bag she had brought with her. “Take your medicine,” she instructed her son. However, he didn’t seem to be listening as he concentrated on his cigarette.

“I’ll take that for you, Polly,” you said helpfully reaching for the brown glass bottle. Turning to Michael you said softly, “The hills will heal you much quicker, you know.”

Tossing his words in Polly’s direction he mumbled, “Fucking witches, the lot of them.”

Bonnie pushed forward, hands clenched by his side as he issued a warning, “Show some respect, Mr. Gray. We’ve agreed to welcome you on account of your blood.” You could tell he wanted to throw a punch after hearing the insult hurled at you, but thought better of it when Polly’s dark eyes met his. 

You rushed to your husband’s side, placing a hand on his chest to calm him, then led him away as Polly conversed with her son. As you walked away you heard her remind him to take his medicine once more. Then you watched out of the corner of your eye as she handed him a gun and mentioned something about making a plan. Despite your desire to help the family, something about this newcomer made you shiver. You nuzzled into Bonnie's side and he ran a hand down your back to comfort you.

“Mr. Shelby says it won’t be long,” Aberama said to you and Bonnie. “We'll be returning him before you know it so keep the peace, eh?” He looked Bonnie in the eye as he clamped a hand on his shoulder, a silent assurance, but also a warning not to start trouble. 

Bonnie bit the inside of his cheek, a habit he had whenever he disagreed with his father. You gave your husband a small smile as he helped you inside the wagon that would take you back to camp. As Bonnie climbed up front with his father, you snuck a glance at your visitor who had seated himself opposite you in the back of the wagon. He leaned against the side, stretching out his bad leg as he closed his eyes in repose.

“Michael?” you asked hesitantly.He grunted in reply and you decided to continue. If he was going to be joining you for any length of time it would be useful to build a good relationship now, you thought. “Even if you’d rather not admit it, you belong here with us and you know it.”

Michael’s eyes flicked open suddenly as he sat up and looked at you with hatred, “Fucking what?” 

You gulped as he stared you down, wondering if it was possible he didn’t know his lineage. “Aren’t you aware of your grandmother, Birdie?”

“What are you on about?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

You searched his eyes, realizing he had no idea who you were talking about. That’s when you decided to inform him, hoping it would make him feel more welcome. “Birdie Boswell was a gypsy princess,” you said with a note of reverence.

Rolling his eyes, Michael scoffed, “Well I don’t believe in that stuff.”

“Don’t have to. Up in them mountains, you’re royalty,” you replied matter-of-factly. You looked down at your hands nervously. You couldn’t understand why he was so rude and unfriendly. He was completely different from Polly. “I-I just wanted you to know that we’ll take good care of you. We always take care of our own,” you added quietly. The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Bonnie came back to join you and you leaned into him for support as the terrain became more uneven. The wagon pitched you back and forth and he held you tightly, keeping you from Michael’s side of the vardo as much as possible. You could tell your husband didn’t trust this man. 

It was evening when you arrived in camp. The stars were mapped out brightly in the sky and a crescent moon hung above the roaring fire your father had made to keep everyone warm. As Michael was shown where he would be sleeping, you brought a plate to your husband.

“Thank you, dove. Not hungry?” he asked, trying to offer you some of his food, but you declined. The events of the day were still weighing heavily on your mind. As he sat down to eat, you joined your father on the other side of the campfire. Bonnie waved, "Evenin Johnny."

As you approached, you furrowed your brow. Your father knew something was on your mind, but he avoided your gaze, unwilling to discuss your visitor until you asked him first. “Da, I don’t understand,” you began, watching your father stoke the fire.

“What’s there to know?” he asked and suddenly you knew you shouldn’t be asking. However, your curiosity had gotten the better of you.

“He doesn’t want to be here,” you stressed.

“Well, it’s not his decision. It comes from the Shelbys,” your father replied, shoving his hands in his pockets

“Aye, he’s a Gray and he’s kin to the Shelbys, but he doesn’t know the first thing about where he comes from. Told me so today. Why is that?” you prodded.

Johnny let out a long, deep sigh and sucked his teeth while considering whether or not to tell you what had happened so many years ago. Was it worth mentioning now? In the end, he realized he had no choice. Michael’s demeanor was very different from anyone else in the family. You'd already noticed he didn't belong.

“Michael doesn’t know about himself because Polly didn’t raise him,” he said, looking up at the moon. He felt ashamed for having revealed the secret. 

“He lived with his father then?” you inquired.

“No!” Your father called out to the sky. You wondered if you should be quiet. Perhaps asking these questions was forbidden somehow based on the agreement he had with the Shelbys, but he continued. “The parish authorities took him away when he was small. Him and his sister, but Tommy brought him back a year ago to work in the family business," he explained in a hushed tone. 

“And now people want to kill him because people want to kill Tommy?” you added.

Your father grunted an affirmative reply as you sat in amazement. A boy who had grown up without his family only to return years later. And a criminal family nonetheless. How jarring that must have been for him. You suddenly understood his confusion and anger at having been sent to a gypsy camp he knew nothing about. You vowed to keep trying with the man who was around the same age as you and Bonnie. You felt it was the least you could do for someone who had had such a difficult life.

——————————————————

Three days later, you plucked clothes off the line and turned just in time to see Micheal exit his vardo. You crossed to greet him and hand him a freshly washed shirt. 

“Good morning, Michael. Thought you’d like to know, we leave tomorrow,” you informed him. 

He looked at you quizzically. "I thought we were staying on another night."

“We follow the patron and the crows. And as your mum said, it’s safer for you to keep moving so your enemies can’t find you,” you explained, although you weren’t sure he was listening.

Moving toward the pot placed over the fire, you removed the lid and stirred the stew that had been cooking there. “Are you hungry?” you inquired.

“What is it, fucking hedgehog again?” he asked disdainfully, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. You’d noticed he often preferred smoking to eating, but you still urged him to take a few bites to aid his recovery.

You continued ladling out a generous portion of stew into a bowl with a smile. “No, it's rabbit stew today. You’re in luck, Bonnie caught a buck,” you said extending the bowl, hoping to entice him.

“So?” he asked, not understanding your meaning.

“Buck’s taste better,” you explained patiently, offering him the meal once more.

He took it from you hesitantly, keeping an eye on you at all times.

“You don’t have to fear us, you know. We’re not bad people,” you said, coming to rest beside him.

“Didn’t say you were,” he grumbled, picking at the stew.

As Michael ate, you noticed the sun disappear and the wind begin to pick up. You sensed a storm approaching and you began to shiver involuntarily. Wrapping your shawl around your shoulders to stay warm, you tried to take in a deep breath the way Bonnie reminded you to do when he was away from you. He said it would help focus your mind on something besides your fear of the bad weather.

Just then Bonnie arrived with an armful of firewood. He glanced at you with sympathetic eyes before looking up to assess the clouds rolling in overhead. “Y/n, dove, go inside. Michael can help me clean up out here,” he promised. 

“M eating,” Micheal mumbled without looking up from where he sat. “Besides, that’s women’s work,” he said jerking his chin toward the clothes line and the empty plates.

You noticed Bonnie's whole body tense at Michael’s words, hands curling tightly around the firewood he held. He had tried to be civil after Aberama's warning, but it had been difficult the past few days. Michael refused to do any chores. While his injuries prevented him from doing men’s work like lifting and chopping firewood, there was plenty of work he was capable of and chose not to do which bothered everyone, but couldn't be said aloud. Bonnie knew a thing or two about working while injured and had complained to you that he felt Michael was capable of more than sitting by the fire day in and day out.

You gave your husband a pleading look to remind him Michael was an important guest and Bonnie took a deep breath before he answered with an impatient toss of his head, “The work goes faster if we all help.”

Michael snorted stealing a glance at you, “Can’t your fucking witch say a spell and be done with it?” You froze at his sharp tongue and gulped waiting for Bonnie’s reaction, knowing your husband wouldn't stand for Michael talking about you that way a second time.

Bonnie dropped the kindling where he stood and stalked toward Michael. Grabbing him by the lapels of his coat he hissed, “My wife has cleaned your clothes, cooked for you and served you. How dare you disrespect her?” You could hear the anger rising in his throat as he spoke. “You want to stay here under our protection, now you have to earn it. Fight me,” he challenged, throwing Michael away and beginning to remove his shirt as the thunder rumbled overhead.

"Bonnie!" you called out to him, feeling a soft rain begin to fall all around you.

“No, I’ve no problem with that,” Michael interrupted, pushing his overcoat from his shoulders. “Didn’t want to be here in the first place with a bunch of fucking gypsies,” he spat.

Stretching his neck and cracking his knuckles, he assessed your husband carefully. He wondered if he had any chance at all with a professional boxer especially one with a personal grievance against him. However, he would not back down from a challenge. He was too stubborn. 

As the men began to circle one another a deafening crack of thunder broke the silence. You knew your father would be angry with you and Bonnie if something happened to Michael, but there was nothing you could do to stop the fighting now. You heard Michael grunt as Bonnie landed the first punch to his gut. It sounded painful as he wheezed out an aching breath. Then suddenly you heard your husband wince and you looked up to see him jerk his head back, licking a bad cut to his lower lip. Blood ran down his chin as the first sliver of lightning illuminated the sky behind him. He nodded at you assuring you it would be alright, but for the first time, you were scared.

 As you looked over at Micheal, you saw a gleam of pure devilment in his eye and you wondered if he was actually enjoying this. He ran at Bonnie again with brute force and it dawned on you that while your husband had the training and skill, Michael had the advantage of his wild anger and hatred. It was a force more powerful than you had originally realized and you shook violently as the fear of the confrontation in the sky and on the ground hit you fully. You shrieked as you realized Micheal had produced a knife from some hidden place and Bonnie’s fist came up swiftly to block Micheal’s wrist. The blade was mere inches from your dear husband’s face and you screamed, not recognizing the sound as it ripped from your throat. 

“Christ almighty, what do you boys think you’re doing!” your father cried, rushing toward them. Michael’s eyes, wide with fear froze in that moment, his hand suspended over Bonnie. As Johnny rushed him, he dropped the knife to the ground and as it hit the dirt below, his trance was broken. You watched him stumble backwards, affecting a limp once more as he went to sit on a nearby log as the rain began to pour down upon you.

“Does one of you want to tell me what the fuck this is all about?” your father asked, looking back and forth between Michael and Bonnie. Then his gaze shifted toward you and his face fell, realizing the quarrel had started over you. You looked at him with wide eyes and somehow managed to nod you were alright before hanging your head shamefully. You hated for him to worry though you knew he would no matter what. 

With that small bit of reassurance, he began again more softly, addressing his son-in-law. “Bonnie, no matter what’s happened, it ends now. Do you understand? Polly will have my balls if that boy doesn’t come home safe.” 

Bonnie clenched his jaw tightly as he glared in Michael’s direction.

“Bonnie, did you hear what I said, lad?” Johnny asked more firmly.

“Aye, I did,” Bonnie replied with a loud sigh. He knew better than to question your father. He moved to offer a hand to you and you clung to him as the lightning illuminated the sky. Bonnie led you to your vardo and you entered without speaking, looking between you both at your soaked clothing.

Bonnie sat on your bed with a plop and you retrieved a flannel, dipping it in a bucket of cool water before bringing it to him. As you ran it over his face, cleaning his lip and chin he grasped your wrist. “M sorry, dove. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t. It’s alright,” you said softly, as reassuring as you could muster. You continued to clean his wound gently as Bonnie fixed his eyes on the wall. 

“He’s arrogant,” Bonnie said, beads of water dripping down his tightly clenched jawline.

“Camp is unfamiliar to him. He’s trying to act brave,” you countered. You discarded the cloth and removed your boots and wet cardigan, crawling into bed behind your husband and wrapping your arms around his waist. Leaning your cheek against his back, you felt his warmth radiate through you as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heart, albeit a bit quickened under the stress. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, hoping it would calm him. After a few breaths, he steadied under your touch.

“He’ll be gone soon and then life will be as it was,” he promised, placing his large hand over yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. 

You nodded against him, knowing he didn’t like the intrusion anymore than you did. 

Hesitating a moment, you began slowly, “He doesn’t know where he comes from, Bon. He doesn’t realize he’s just like us.”

“Even if he did, he’d just reject it. Thinks he’s so much better,” Bonnie said with a shake of his head.

You rubbed a hand down Bonnie’s arm soothingly as you said, “He’s Polly’s son. No matter what he does, you swore to protect him, remember?” 

“Not when he treats you the way he did today,” Bonnie said, voice strained with emotion.

You moved to straddle him and took his face between your palms. “Bonnie,” you said softly, making him look you in the eyes, “I know he made you angry, but he’s a lost soul. And if it were our child. I’d want someone to look after him. That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to help him find his way.” 

You guided Bonnie’s hand to your stomach and bit your lip, gulping as a harsh clap of thunder boomed overhead.

“It’s storming, y/n,” he observed, eyes watching you anxiously. 

“I know,” you replied hesitantly. “But I’m not scared anymore. Can’t be frightened when I have this little one to protect,” you explained.

The lightning outside your window illuminated the vardo and you saw a flash of recognition in Bonnie’s brown eyes. You watched tears gather as he stroked your abdomen slowly with his thumb, a look of awe and disbelief washing over him as he stared at your belly.

Bonnie leaned forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, unable to break from you in his urgency until you finally pulled away for much needed breath.

You sat back admiring his flushed cheeks, stroking your fingertips along his cheek as you asked, “You’re happy then?” 

“Course I am, little dove,” he said, a tear falling down his cheek in unreserved emotion. “Can’t believe how strong you’ve become. You’re going to be a wonderful mother, you know,” he said staring deeply into your eyes. 

“I hope so,” you whispered as you pressed your forehead to his. “We’ll weather the storm together, won’t we?” you asked, brushing your nose against his.

“Of course, we will, my darlin’,” Bonnie replied, lifting you up and placing you on the bed with ease. You smiled as he came to rest beside you, your Bonnie there to watch over you as the wind and rain pelted the side of the caravan. However, you had no need to fear it any longer. 

———————————————

The next morning as Bonnie kissed you goodbye at the doorway, you worried for your growing family. Your husband had confided that today they were going to plan strategy against the Changrettas who had sent several men to the area. You also selfishly worried for yourself. With Bonnie gone, it was up to you to look after Michael. 

As though he sensed your inner thoughts, Bonnie turned to you before he reached the last step and extended his hand to you. “No matter what happens, it’s you and me, dove,” he reminded you. “We’re going to leave this place and soon enough we’ll have our own little one to worry about instead of a grown man, eh?” he said with a smirk. You had to chuckle at his remark. You felt exactly the same, ready to move beyond the dark shadow the Shelbys had cast over your lives.

----------------------------

Tag list:

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@wandawiccan60   

@easilyobessedbutflighty

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@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@peakyrogers

@christinasyellowflowers

@retromafia

@notyour-valentine

@peaky-cillian

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@celticmelody

@theshelbyclan

@bonniesgoldengirl

@amberusso

@cillmequick

@mgcllovdrms

@shelbywhiterose

@l1-l4

@thats-what-cill-said

@dreamlandcreations

#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Bonnie Gold fanfic #Bonnie Gold imagine #Bonnie Gold x you #Bonnie Gold x y/n #Bonnie Gold x reader #Michael Gray fanfic #Michael Gray x imagine #Michael Gray x y/n #Michael Gray x reader #Michael Gray x you

[eviegray]

❛ dating michael gray would include ❜

。michael is super affectionate and protective towards you. this being said, if there’s something or someone bothering you, michael will be there with arms wide open, ready for you to crawl into his sweet embrace and help you the best way he can.

。will ask you to read a book out loud for him whenever he’s feeling stressed out because the sound of your sweet voice calms him down. 

。is always paying attention to your surroundings as the last thing he wants is for you to get hurt. he would pretty much kill anyone that dared to hurt or mistreat you in any way.

。 usually wakes up way before you, however, he never leaves the house without showering you with soft pecks here and there, ending up waking you up.

。loves to spoil you. his sweet baby deserves the best in the world, and so you shall have it. no questions asked.

。will sit and stare at you for hours with nothing but love in his eyes.

。often speaks to you about plans for the future... marrying you, creating a family, moving into a beautiful family home...

。loves making love to you... and does it quite often ;) 

。speaks about you to his friends all the time, and does it with nothing but love.

。most importantly michael respects and admires you a lot. he will always be by your side, ready to support your choices, respect your opinions and give you all the love in the world.

#michael gray #michael gray imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #michael gray x reader #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x you #peaky blinders x y/n

[blueeyedheizer]

Could you do Michael Gray and #3 please?

#3 "bend over the desk" (NSFW - full smut under the cut) 🔞

I got a lil carried away... 🥁🥁 this is pure smut, also it might be cringe because it's late and i'm tired so uuuh read at your own risk 😭😵‍💫

“You think you can flirt with my cousin right in front of me—" Michael seethed, his grip around your throat tightening slightly whilst his other hand fumbled with his belt and pants, tugging them away. “—and not face the repercussions?”

You could only manage a weak whimper, feeling his finger squeeze some more, cutting a tiny bit of your airway off.

Michael swore under his breath as he stroked himself, his left hand leaving your throat to grab your jaw instead and kiss you hard. He let go of his throbbing cock to rid you of your underwear, nearly tearing the material off your legs. You moaned into the kiss, feeling breathless by the time you pulled away.

"Michael—"

"Shut up." he cut you off and entered you in one thrust, his parted lips brushing against yours as he started fucking you, each snap of his hips yanking a choked cry from your throat.

"Fuck!" you moaned out. You clung to his neck when he increased the speed, knotting your fingers in the hair at his nape and bracing yourself on the desk as best as you could with your other hand, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room along with your short breaths and his grunts.

You didn't even try to stop yourself from screaming as he fucked you at such brutal pace, whispering degrading comments in your ear simultaneously which made you dig your nails harder into his back and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Open 'em. Keep your fuckin' eyes open." he said while grabbing your face roughly, his thrusts frantic. And you obeyed, locking eyes with him.

You couldn't help but get louder and louder until you felt Michael's hand cover your mouth, muffling your moans.

"You just can't keep your pretty little mouth shut, can you? Gotta let everyone know what a dirty slut you are, eh?" he taunted.

You were so close, feeling the knot within your stomach tighten more and more with each thrust, when suddenly Michael pulled out. "Bend over the desk." he panted.

You did as you were told, legs already wobbly as you hopped off the desk and bent over it instead, waiting for Michael to use you as he pleased. He rubbed the tip of his dick along your entrance before easing himself back in, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

This was just the beginning of a long, long night.

#michael gray imagine #michael gray smut #michael gray x reader #michael gray x you

[bad268]

Hi! So for a request for ransoms characters you would write for would you write something for either Michael Gray x reader of Finn Shelby x reader where reader gets a camera and is super excited to show it to her bf. So she goes and takes a bunch of photos 1 day with him of random things (him, his friends, the car, Cyril, etc) later when she’s developing them she realises that he took some cute photos of her and him when she wasn’t looking❤️❤️

Anything for You (Michael Gray X Reader)

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Requested: Clearly (I strayed a little, but I hope you still like it <3 Also, happy new year everybody!)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: You/Your

W.C. 1441

Summary: The reader (gn) gets a new camera for their birthday, and they receive a surprise upon developing the pictures.

As always, my requests and ships are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Google/Peaky Characters)

You were a photographer at heart, that’s what everyone told you. You had taken an interest in photography when you were really young. Your parents had an obsession with getting family pictures every year, but you hated how big and heavy the cameras were. When you turned 16, Kodak revealed a small, handheld, portable version of his original camera. You bought the cheapest one you could find, and the rest was history.

You knew this would be how you make a living for yourself; by taking pictures, and it was through this that you met your boyfriend, Michael. He had been looking to get some pictures made for his mom and came across you at a nearby market. You were already taking pictures of the landscape, so he just approached you.

“Do you do that professionally?” He asked.

Being only 17 at the time, you shook your head. “No, I’m not. Just practicing, but hopefully, one day I will be able to do it professionally,” You answered with a smile.

“Oh no worries, love,” he responded with a smile as well before holding his hand out, “My name is Michael Johnson. Who might you be?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N L/N,” You shook his hand. He pulled it up to place a kiss on your knuckles.

“If you’d be interested in practicing portraits, my mother is looking to get some family pictures done soon,” He offered, and the rest was history.

You were by his side for everything from his brother’s birthday to when his apparent ‘uncle’ showed up at the farm. You stayed by his side even when he moved to Small Heath with his birth mother, Polly, and became a member of the Peaky Blinders. While it may not have been the safest option for him, you stayed by his side through it all.

And even though he was in a dangerous gang, that did not stop you from continuing your passion, and he did not try to stop you. He actually encouraged it! He knew how hectic and demanding his family was, so anytime you could sneak away to do what you loved to do was a semblance of normality.

However, you noticed that your camera was starting to deteriorate, so you made a small comment about it to Michael. You said how the pictures were not coming out as clear as they used to, and it was just a generally old camera. Almost immediately after you mentioned it, Michael ran to the store in search of a brand new camera for your birthday. He ended up finding a prototype Kodak that looked more advanced than any other camera he had ever seen, so he was excited to see your reaction.

“Happy birthday, my love,” He greeted you with a kiss as soon as you woke up. You returned the kiss as you sat up in the bed. “How did you sleep?”

“Great, I had you next to me the whole night,” You laughed back, placing a kiss on his cheek. “But what are we doing today? Family meeting or something illegal?”

“No,” He chuckled while shaking his head. He leaned back to grab a wrapped box from under his bed. Then, he handed it over to you. “Start with this.”

“You didn’t need to get me anything, love!” You exclaimed, ripping through the packaging immediately. He laughed at your antics as he collected the wrapping. Once you registered what it was, you let out a gasp, “No way! This must’ve cost a fortune!”

“That’s for me to know, and you to never find out,” He laughed, pulling you into his arms. He place a few kisses on your temples as you buried your face in his neck, muttering ‘thank you’s. “I’d do anything for you, love. Now, come on! Let’s go take some pictures!”

You did not need to be told twice as you were out of the bed and in the restroom in a blink of an eye, and you two were on your out the door within 20 minutes. You took his hand and led him through the streets on Small Heath. Passing by the betting shop, the Garrison, and you did not stop until you reached the waterfront because that was one place you had always wanted to take pictures.

“Go,” You pointed toward the shoreline. Michael looked skeptical, but before he could complain, you continued, “You are my muse. If I want my first pictures on my new camera to be of you, who are you to stand in my way?” That was all it took for him to be convinced.

You were out there all day. You were taking as many pictures as possible before the sun went down, and once it did, you both made your way to the Garrison where you met up with his cousins and mother for drinks.

Unfortunately, the next day, you had to get back to work. The betting shop was not going to run itself, and Michael needed to get back to his Peaky Blinders business. What you did not know was that Michael was working in the betting shop that day, and he dedicated his time to taking candid photos of you throughout the day. Polly, Esme, and Lizzie caught him a few times, but he signaled them to not say anything. You would just randomly hear them laughing before suddenly stopping when you ask them what is so funny.

You tried to ask Michael about his day when you go back to his room, but he just responded with extremely vague terms. That just made you assume that it was a bad day, so you did not press him any further. Climbing into bed, you let it go.

About a week later, you remembered all of the pictures you took at the waterline, and decided you would go get the pictures developed. You went to a little shop around the corner from the Garrison to get them printed. The lady running the shop said she would expedite your prints, but it would still take a couple of days to get them all. Confused as you did not remember taking that many pictures, you still accepted before leaving.

You stopped at the Garrison where Michael, Isaiah, and Finn were laughing at one of the tables, so you decided to join them for a drink. Polly and Esme did not expect you back at the shop for another hour, so you had time to kill.

“What made you stop by here?” Michael asked, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you took a drink of his whiskey. “Hey, that’s mine! If you want one, get your own!”

“I don’t want a whole drink,” You deadpanned, “Plus, I still need to go back to the shop after this. I was getting photos developed, but the lady said she couldn’t get ‘em all done today, so I’ll have to go back in a couple of days.”

“Oh,” he laughed.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” You accused.

“No, I don't think I do.”

Well, he lied. When you went back to pick up the developed photos three days later, you saw the pictures of Michael you took on your birthday as well as some candid pictures of you around the betting shop. Some were really cute and some were random but you knew immediately that Michael had taken all of them.

You were sitting on your bed, looking through the pictures, when Michael walked in. As soon as he registered what was in your hands, he started laughing as the first one he saw was you yawning. “You like those pictures, love?”

“I won't lie, some are cute,” You admitted as he sat next to you looking through all of the pictures. You ended up finding one that was stuck to the back of another one, and it was a candid of you and Michael. He was caging you in with his arms against the wall as he kissed your forehead. Immediately, you knew Polly or Esme must have taken it as it was taken from the end of the corridor. “This one, though. This one is my favorite.”

“That one is pretty cute,” He said, taking it from you, and leaning it on your vanity. “Is it safe to assume you like the camera?”

“Like it? I love it! Michael, I love you so much! Thank you for the best gift ever,” You said, setting the photos to the side as you buried yourself in his side. He returned the hug, placing multiple kisses along the crown of your head.

“Anything for you, love.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2023. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

#michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x you #peaky blinders #peaky fookin blinders #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

[amazingmaeve]

KIN (1/?)

Michael Gray (Henry Johnson) x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: meeting henry johnson in the small village that she lived in was the best thing that happened to Y/N. he was always there for her ever since she was little. they were each other’s first everything’s. unfortunately this lead to a pregnancy that y/n’s afraid to tell him about.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: talks of sex, unplanned pregnancy, talks of abortion, angst, fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1437

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: don’t worry im not advocating for teenage pregnancy but back in a those times, there were less contraceptives. there are also these terrible myths about pregnancy AND abortion back then as well. don’t worry im pro choice I didn’t know if I worded this weirdly so I just wanted to come out and say it. also got the gifs and the idea from @blueeyedheizer

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲 |

Y/N stared at her shaking hands trying to control her breathing as she stood in front of the house, the destination she was arriving at. She had just gotten into a huge argument with her mother and she was left with tears streaming down the apple of her cheeks. Y/N didn’t want this to end in an argument with her mother since she thought her mother would always be there for her, but it was apparent that her mother wouldn’t want someone like her in the family.

The Johnsons' house stood tall in front of her, even though the house wasn’t that big or even scary but at that moment everything was starting to scare. After her mothers reaction she didn’t want to see Henrys’ reaction or even his families. But she told herself to swallow the fear and tell Henry. Y/N knew deep down that he wouldn’t be mad, but the sound of her screaming mother drowned out every rational thought she had in the moment.

Henry and her knew each other since they were toddlers, they grew up with each other and became best of friends. That was until puberty kicked in and everything changed in that moment. When she was 15, she and Henry were sitting on grass and at the root was an old tree that they sat at all the time when they were taking a break from chores or school work. Y/N remembers this like it was yesterday, their first kiss. Obviously it was awkward neither of them knew which way to go, so they just sat there moving their lips until they needed to pull away. Also Y/N didn’t know what to do with her hands so she just kept them buried in the grass while Henries went to her cheek. It was something that they laughed at often.

They were each other’s first everything which led to her predicament she is in right now. As any normal horny teenagers they obviously couldn’t keep their hands off each other, until one day they just decided to have sex. Y/N was nervous not because of Henry but her mom told her horror stories that she would get pregnant and no matter what if the guy wasn’t around then to abort it, or diseases but she knew that Henry hadn’t done anything with anyone else so that wasn't the biggest of her concerns.

Now 4 months later she took notice that she hadn’t had her monthly visitor which made her heart drop to her stomach. She had been so consumed with working and helping her family she totally forgot about that.

Turns out she was pregnant.

Her parents knew it was probably Henry's baby but that didn’t make them any less mad. They were the type of parents who didn’t believe in sex before marriage and that it was a sin. So Y/N wasn’t entirely surprised when they kicked her out of the house telling her that they didn’t want a whore for a daughter. No matter what she never thought she’d hear her parents say those words to her and it didn’t stop the tears from falling and they didn’t even look fazed.

She let out a shaky breath and looked around to see if she could find Henry or a family member. When she spotted Henry by the tree where they sit, wrapped in each other's arms as they watched the sunset. When he saw he waved at her and signaled her to come over. She gave him a smile as she swallowed tears back and began to walk to where he was standing.

“Hey you,” Henry whispered, pulling Y/N into a hug when she was at arm's length. Letting out a sigh she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head into the crook of his neck. He planted a tiny kiss on her forehead. That was apparently enough for some tears to escape from the corner of her eyes.

“Hey,” Y/N replied with a shakiness to her voice. She was praying he didn’t notice but today was not her day was it.

“What’s wrong sweetheart,” Henry asked with an urgency in his face as he pulled back from the hug and noticed the tears in her eyes. He sighed, planting one of his hands on her cheeks and used his thumb to wipe a stray tear that cascaded down her cheek. Henry knew this was about her family, since they could be quite mean and Y/N a sensitive girl. ”Come on, you know you can tell me anything you love,” He smiled, trying to get something out of her.

“You’ll be mad,” Y/N whispered as more tears kept flowing out, she couldn’t stop it now.

“How could I ever be mad at you,” Henry replied, grabbing both of her hands and giving them a gentle squeeze. When she didn’t reply and more tears kept coming he bit his lip trying to figure out what to do. “Remember when you forgot about the date that I planned? Did I get angry then? Or when you stole the apple I picked from the tree? Come on there isn’t anything In the world you could do to make me mad at you,” Henry explained leaning down a little to meet her eyes. He smiled in relief when she gave him a tight smile.

“Don’t say anything Henry there’s probably a few things that you could get angry at me for,” Y/N replied with a lighthearted tone in her voice.

“But I know you, this is something about you or something to do with your family,” Henry explained.

“Fuck you know me so well,” Y/N cursed removing one of her hands to put on her forehead and let out a little laugh.

“Well I have known you since we were 3. It would be wrong of me not to know when somethings wrong with you sweetheart,” Henry replied with a reassuring smile. Y/N took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“I’m pregnant,” Y/N whispered looking down at the grass where there were a few flowers growing. His hand still was on hers as she stared at the ground.

“Are-are you sure,” Henry stuttered a bit which made Y/N bit the inside her cheek and nodded.

“Me and my mum went to the doctors and they confirmed it. 4 months,” Y/N blew out some air after that feeling the stress start to crowd her.

“I’m guessing your mom wasn't happy about this,” Henry shakily asked.

“Yeah she kinda kicked me out, dad said they didn’t want a whore for a daughter,” Y/N let out a dry laugh as she wiped the tears away from her eyes.

“Hey you’re not a whore, don’t let your asshole of a dad plant these ideas into your head,” Henry sternly said while his hands cupped her cheeks.

“But it’s true Henry, I’m pregnant at 17 years old while not even married yet,” Y/N whimpered as tears began to come out more and more.

Henry sighed and brought Y/N in for a deep hug which she reciprocated. Tucking her head into his chest she finally let the tears out as she sobbed against his shirt. His hands lightly caressing her lower back trying to calm her down.

“It doesn’t matter what they think, if they can just kick their daughter out over something that could bring joy into the world, then they aren’t even the best of the parents,” Henry whispered into her ear as her sobs began to let down. A few minutes later she finally sighed and removed her head.

“I got your shirt wet,” Y/N let out a tiny laugh which made Henry smile.

“There’s the girl I know and love,” Henry grinned, tucking a loose lock of her hair behind her ear, making her heart race. Even to this day he could make butterflies gather in her stomach.

“What are we gonna do Henry? We have to have some sort of plan,” Y/N explained, biting her lip.

“We’ll figure that out later, let's just go inside and relax for the moment, okay sweetheart?” Henry asked, quirking one eyebrow and letting out a sigh of relief when she nodded. Y/N knew that his family would take this better than her family which let relief sink inside her.

Grabbing her hand he pulled her to the house where she noticed a car that didn’t look like it was around here but she ignored that as Henry pulled her into the house.

#Henry Johnson #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x you #michael gray x oc #michael gray one shot #michael gray imagine #michael gray headcanon #michael gray x reader #michael gray smut #michael gray #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders x y/n

[toms-cherry-trees]

A Piece Of Me || Michael Gray Flashback

Summary: Not every search ends in a gain

Word Count: 2062

Warnings: Violence, mentions of canon death, implied past child abuse and possible PTSD, you know the drill

Author’s note: I have no justification for this one. Enjoy!

Let me know if you wanna be in my taglist

The car jolted gently every time the wheels hit a bump on the road, causing the passengers in the back seat to rock rather abruptly from side to side. Charlie kept dozing off in Michael’s lap, unable to fully fall asleep with the noise from the engine and the perpetual bumping. Or perhaps he felt uncomfortable with the vice tight grip his uncle kept around his little body, as if he feared the little child would slip again at the smallest chance.

Or perhaps it was Michael who needed someone to hold onto.

The events kept replaying over and over again in his mind. Not those of the last 2 hours, but in fact the last 17 years. Every single thing he had been through since he was ripped from his mother and placed in foster care, with the so-called “holy fathers”. Holy my ass, he thought to himself, his arms tightening a bit more around Charlie. They shielded behind their white cassocks and golden crosses, bathed in their feigned purity, when they were as rotten and dirty as the worst ones the world had to offer. Michael wasn’t sure there was a God up there, because no God would stand his envoys behaving the way these men did. 

He entered the parish house, but never left it. The boy who walked out of the orphanage, hand in hand with Mrs. Johnson was not him. Not quite. He had something missing. Something deep and meaningful he had brought with him when the parish took him, but had been lost along the way, bit by bit, every time he saw a child who was not himself leaving with a new family, and every time Father Hughes summoned him to his office for confession, every Monday before bedtime. A little something he had been searching for ever since. 

He could not recall what life had been before. He didn’t have any memories prior to his life as Henry Johnson. They had indoctrinated him until he didn’t know who he was anymore. 

And he could not recall a single moment in his life in which he didn’t feel angry. 

Even in times he truly felt joyous, like sharing with his classmates in the schoolhouse’s little yard, or kicking the ball with his little brother under the scorching summer sun; picking fruits in the orchard with his adoptive mother until the skin in his palms cracked, all of those memories were obscured by the shadow of resentment. Seemingly unjustified, focused on nothing and no one in particular. Just a never ending, seething fury against the world. 

How many hours he spent sat in the meadow, his gaze fixed in the wishing well with the white bricks. Surrounded by little colourful flowers, buzzing with life in the summer, and withstanding the elements in winter. His “mom” used to tell his little brother that fairies lived in the flowers, and the buds closed down in the winter so they could take shelter from the rain. Michael felt like snorting when she repeated that story, every single day when they passed the well on the way home. He wanted to go up and stomp on the dainty little flowers until only roots remained, and then rip the roots off the earth with his bare hands, and spread them all over the bright grass for everyone to see. And then he’d load up the pretty little well with explosives, just like his father had told him they did in the western front, and blow it up to smithereens. He’d probably get blown up too, but it would be worth it just to see it gone.

But Michael never destroyed the flowers, nor did he try to damage the wishing well. Because the only thing he wanted more in this life than ruining that pretty meadow was fitting in. He wanted to belong, fit in, just a regular teenager in a regular world. And for the sake of it, he kept it all inside. All his rage, his resentment, his eternal thirst for revenge, all carefully stored within the depths of himself; far from reach, where no one would ever be able to find it. Buried between the shadow and the soul, where it would hopefully one day wither and die, and he’d finally be able to fit in. 

But destiny had handed him an opportunity. A new family, although it didn’t exactly count as new. They were his family, the one he had been unjustly taken from; the one where he truly belonged. Where he didn’t have to change himself to fit in; he didn’t need to struggle to find a place. What had Tommy said to him? “You are Polly’s son alright” And he had just proven it, twice in one day. He may carry the Gray surname, but he was a proper Shelby now.

The gun had felt natural in his grip, an extension of his own arm, just like they told him that night in Arrow House, when John and Arthur filled him with liquor and thrusted a pistol in his hand. He felt all the boundaries built over the years melt away in a wave of whiskey and testosterone. All that pent up rage, bubbling from the bottom of his soul like a shaken up champagne bottle, ready to pop the cork and spill out. He had tethered so close to the edge that night, so fucking close, he had tasted it. They drove him to madness, and he had played along. He could have let loose and released the beast, but fate and his nosy mother had stopped him last second. But who knew, perhaps it had been better that way. He had saved his first time for something bigger. 

But that first shot had been nothing. Just a blur, and act without thought, something which entered his brain and immediately slipped away. All he could remember was a surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He didn’t even see the face of that man; he didn’t know his name. All he saw were a pair of large hands holding Tommy’s collar, and then a hole right through the skull. He didn’t falter, didn’t stutter and didn’t miss. As if he had been meant to hold onto that gun all along. As if he had been meant to kill someone. 

The real deal came later on.

When he left the parish home, he never expected to encounter any of them again. Not any of the orphans…nor any of the fathers. When he laid eyes again on Father Hughes, an icy coldness spread down his body. His muscles tensed and his pulse picked up; he walked on the tips of his toes, ready to sprint into a run at the slightest hint of danger. Fly or fight mode, acquired over long nights where the boys took turns guarding the door at night, perking up their ears in anticipation of steps going up their stairs. They had learned to distinguish between the low heels of the sisters and the polished shoes of the fathers, and could tell the priests apart by the sound of their gait and the smell of their clothes. He could recall Hughes smelled of cheap cigarettes and dampness. 

He could still remember the crack. A crack in the wall behind Father Hughes’ desk, right in middle, almost reaching the roof. It was shaped like a spiderweb. When Michael stared long enough, he could imagine a big spider, with long legs and a big red splotch on its back, crawling out of it, its pincers clicking and its beady black eyes fixated on him. The idea of something coming out of that crack terrified him, but he still stared. Because he didn’t want to look the priest in the eye. Because he wanted the big black spider to come down and eat him whole. 

But he had no crack to stare now to distract his mind, nor any hopes that a magical creature would aid him in his cause. Just his gun, the life of his nephew on the line and an unclenched thirst for revenge. 

He could have shot, point blank, the moment he set foot through the door. He had him, right in his line of vision, no obstacles in the way. The gun uncocked, the bullet in the chamber. But he couldn’t. Because he wanted Hughes to know it had been him. He wanted to stare at him, right in the eye, in the same way he was forced to do while he “took confession”, while the bullet went through his brains. He wanted Hughes to know he had come back,  like the ghost from Christmas Past, to claim what had been taken from him.

But even there, with the upper hand, with the surprise factor, the barrel of his gun shoved right into Hughes’ eye, he couldn’t help but shiver. His own body betrayed him, his palms sweating and his heartbeat quickening. His mouth dried up like sandpaper. And for a moment, for a split, fateful moment, he was once more little Michael, aged just five years old, sitting in front of a big desk, his feet dangling from the chair, while a grave looking priest told him that he had been given up by his mother for being a bad boy, but that they would help him atone for his sins. The priest had placed a big, coarse hand in the back of his head and given him a piece of candy, whispering that he would take good care of him. 

Just for a moment, his determination faltered. Fear had overpowered his determination. And in that brief hesitation, he had lost his upper hand. Hughes had beaten him and trashed him around, and now he had him on a table, his hands tightly wrapped around Michael’s throat. He could see black spots dancing on the edge of his vision. The images in front of him blurred and he seemed to be slipping away…

And then the splash.

Michael couldn’t even recall putting a knife in his pocket. He didn’t know why, or how he got it. But he felt so thankful at the moment. Yes he had brought a knife to a gun fight and not he did not care it was honourable. He wasn’t honourable. He was a gangster through and through. And the satisfaction he felt, pushing that blade through the priest’s neck, couldn’t be compared to anything in this world. He felt again that coursing of adrenaline through his veins, stronger than any drug they could offer him. It got to his head and warmed him from the inside out. His pupils dilated and his cheeks flushed. He could breathe easier, a heavy weight finally being lifted from his shoulders. He stood on top of the world.

But like all highs, afterwards came the drop.

He had not noticed the car halting to a stop, nor the driver opening up the door for him. He moved like his body did not belong to him; like a puppet, with an unknown puppeteer. Charlie had calmed down, clinging to his uncle’s shirt with his head propped on his shoulder. 

Somehow, Michael had found during the journey the integrity of mind to wipe his face, but that only left a dried red smear across his cheek, with dark specks dotting his skin and the collar of his shirt. 

When he crossed the threshold of Shelby Company Limited, in less than a heartbeat he had two crying women on him, prying Charlie away and making the boy cry too. He stood there, a dumbfounded grin tugging at his lips as his mother finally locked eyes with him. Their shared glance made up for unneeded words. She knew. She knew he had taken a step that could never be undone, one she had hoped and prayed he would never do. Something she didn’t believe her darling son was capable of. Her fingers caressed his face, and Michael only smiled, and walked away, his grin never faltering as he moved past Polly.

He may have gotten back what the holy fathers took from him. What he spent his whole life searching for. But he had lost something else, and that one, he’d never get it back. No matter where he went, nor what he did. That piece of him was forever lost.

#michael gray #michael gray fanfic #michael gray one shot #michael gray imagine #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders s3 #father hughes #michael gray solo #michael gray x oc #marsie writes #marsie posts #finn cole #Michael gray x you #charlie shelby

[christinasyellowflowers]

Night Swimming | Michael Gray

Michael Gray x reader

Prompt: #1 Night swimming

Requested by: @peakyswritings

Warnings: none I suppose.

Note: English is not my native language so beware there may be grammar or spelling mistakes.

Do not repost please!

Feedback is appreciated!

You were sitting at the edge of the deck, legs swinging against the water, whilst you watched Michael swim laps around the lake.

"Won't you join me?" Michael asked, swimming towards you and resting his chin on your knee.

"I'm good, thanks." you bit your lip, trying to hide your nervousness. Truth was you didn't know how to swim that well, and you weren't fond of lake water were everything was blurry and couldn't see what was underneath you.

"Please?" he begged, although he had a cunning expression on his face.

"We should go." she tried to argue. "It's almost dark, and we've been h- Michael, no!"

The cold water muffled out your piercing squeal as you went underwater. Michael had yet again taken you by surprise, only this time it wasn't a pleasant one.

Once he acknowledged your distress, Michael immediately moved your body that was glued to his by his hands upwards.

"Goodness' sake, Michael!" you breathed still shocked, when you resurfaced.

"I didn't mean to scare you, babe." he said apologetically, as you placed your hands on his bare shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"I can't swim that well." you admitted, embarrassed. However he didn't laugh or anything like you expected, but tightened his grip around your waist instead.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he frowned, and you bit your lower lip yet again. " I could teach you. Right now if you like."

"Ri-right now?" you sounded unsure.

"We're already in the water, are we not?" he pointed out. "I won't let go unless you tell me ." he reassured her, before kissing her gently.

"Alright." she nodded. " I won't miss an opportunity to be inside your embrace."

He chuckled, kissing her lips once more.

As it grew darker, the only light source beside the full moon from above you was the lantern Michael brought with you when you arrived.

Soon you forgot your fear of water and what could be hiding underneath. Your only full attention was on your boyfriend and his strong arms that guided you.

What you thought would be your worst date by far, turned out to be the best in the end.

~

#chrissyscelebrationblurb #peaky blinders #michael gray x reader #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #christinasyellowflowerswork #my*fanfic

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Modern AU w/ Michael Gray (a concept)

I visited the local weekly fabric market (Dutch: Lapjesmarkt) for the first time and, my days, what an experience. Ngl, I went overboard buying fabric, but it’s been a while since I had such a blast.😅

Anyways, I was by far the youngest there though I did see a couple of girls my age (early 20’s). Otherwise, the ones closest in age were the sons/cousins/nephews dragged to the city by their fathers/uncles to help out selling. Which got me thinking…

Fabric seller/Market boy!Michael Gray

He’s very competitive with his uncles when it comes to selling, but could do without the early mornings.

Also, he’s not too fond (not at all, in fact) of the family business, Shelby Cloth Company Ltd., but always is taken along to the city on Saturday morning whether he wants to or not.

Around the marketplace, he’s known as a quiet, pensive, and even a bit brooding character.

An image he can easily contradict once someone breaks through his shell and gets him talking. Though he might not have a silver tongue like rival merchant Aberama Gold, there’s a chance of him turning into a chatterbox if and once you get him started.

However, there’s no need to pop his bubble or, rather, break down his walls when you drop by the family stall to browse.

There’s a tendency towards seeing the same faces every week, but he immediately noticed a new one in the crowd: yours.

The lady running the mobile coffee cart, another steady local presence, confirms this when she asks him whether he’d like another cup of coffee or tea.

Although you try to hide the fact you have close to no idea what you’re doing or what fabrics are officially seen as suitable for your projects, he picks up on your slight awkwardness when you finally stand before him.

Well, before his part of the stall.

Though he normally waits for customers to approach him for a purchase, he forces his shyness (the underlying reason for his distant attitude) aside to greet you.

(By the way, he totally did not mentally prepare himself beforehand, trying to anticipate the moment you’d finally drop by😜)

The conversation starts out a tad awkward, neither of you knowing what to do.

Nevertheless, once you tell him what type of sewing projects you’re into and/or want to try out, the conversation starts flowing more as he points out fabrics and offers further advice on sewing, techniques, and tools.

He also may or may not inwardly moon over the picture you made of your latest project: a ‘real Dutch’ whale shark.

(Yes, I’m referring here to my own project, but the thing is chunky and bloody cute! Bite me😤)

When the coffee lady walks by, Michael waves her over and orders for the both of you.

You politely try to decline, saying you should pay for the beverage considering you’re not a merchant like him.

But the coffee lady rejects your offer, leaving you both blushing madly when she blatantly states you need to be sweet to him “because he’s a nice boy who could do with a friend” and she expects to see you next week. Otherwise, you will have to pay regardless.

(Don’t worry, it’s only a half-loose threat)

Then she walks off, leaving you two absolutely gobsmacked.

Queue awkward silence!

A silence which grows more comfortable when you remark she’s quite the character. He nods in agreement, but before he can open his mouth to reply, one of his uncles, the notoriously hot-headed Arthur Shelby, cuts in.

“Oi, Casanova, that’s enough faffing about. Lend us a hand!”

Michael grumbles something under his breath, glaring at his uncle, before throwing you an apologetic look. ‘Seems like I need to go back to work.’

“It’s alright, I should get a move on too. By the way,” you hold up the coffee/tea, “thanks.”

As you make to carry on, he suddenly jolts forward, looking like he’s ready to jump over the pile of fabric rolls on the stall. “Wait! Before you go, what’s your name?”

You tell him, not missing out on the glimmer in his eyes. “Yours?”

“Michael, Michael Gray.”

“Well, Michael, it was a pleasure meeting you,” you say, starting to feel rather hot under the collar at the sight of him biting his lip when you say his name.

You two exchange numbers and Instagram handles before cracking on with the day.

And repeat that cup of coffee/tea the Saturday after.

And all those to come.

An additional thought: You make a Dutch whale shark as a gift to him, having picked up on how he barely contained his reaction in the face of a cuteness overdose. It’s sitting snugly in the side pocket of his backpack, keeping him company wherever he goes.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders imagine #Michael Gray #michael gray x reader #michael gray x you #michael gray fanfic #Finn Cole

[thepeakygurl]

hi lovelies, I’ve decided to make a new multifandom blog @khaleesiofwritings

As a multifandom blog, I will be writing for Stranger Things, Peaky Blinder, MCU, Harry Potter and Bridgerton as a start… so if you are a fan of any of those, what are you waiting for? Go make a request!

I will still be active in here, but I will gradually move to @khaleesiofwritings as I intend to write for more fandoms, so yeah. Make a request if you like, i’d be happy to write for you☀️

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders fluff #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #john shelby fluff #john shelby x you #john shelby smut #michael gray x y/n #michael gray fluff #michael gray x you #michael gray angst

[warnersister]

“Tea in the Cotswolds” Michael Gray x Reader

Michael Gray x Reader

When Thomas has business with Archibald Wentworth, a prestigious delegate in the Cotswolds, Michael is tasked with occupying the man’s adult daughter - getting more acquainted than expected.

The Blinders had expanded their business - all the way to the Cotswolds, Tommy had taken John and Michael for the ride; leaving Arthur back in Birmingham as he didn’t find this the right environment for any sort of negative articulation to be breaking out; especially at Wentworth Family Manor.

The houses became progressively larger as the carriage rolled down the cobbled street, some with drives too large to be able to see the house it belonged to at all. But eventually, the vehicle came to a stop at the looming house; substantially larger than all others. In his head, the only similar build Michael had seen to this was Buckingham Palace - large and awe-inspiring enough to be the encasings to a proud museum, contents sacred and protected.

But potentially Michael’s imagination wasn’t too far from reality.

“Right,” Tommy began, eyes flicking between the two men whom had accompanied him. “Today is a very important meeting. And i need to leave a good impression on the Wentworth’s. So we leave our egos and our guns in the car.” John’s brows creased in confusion. “Leave our guns?” “They’re not dangerous. This is legal business; real estate - dabbling a bit in the illegal side of things but not enough go start a fight. Mr Wentworth is an extremely prestigious man, as is his wife and daughter.” He told them calmly. “I’ll talk with Mr Wentworth, John you’ll talk with his missus and explain what we do: nicely. Michael - I’ll leave you to get acquainted with his daughter, yn.” “You’re leaving me with the child?” He asked, confused. “Yn is twenty.”

They were welcomed into the home by several butlers, two to open the grand doors - three to take their caps and the others to lead the family to their guests. “Thomas Shelby.” They heard, and a dignified gentleman descended the stairs, an unnecessary cain in one hand, the other wrapped around his wife as they descended the central staircase to the visitors, a young lady trailing behind.

“Archibald Wentworth.” Thomas smiled at the man and nodded out of respect. The man walked up to him and shook each of their hands firmly. “How longs it been old chap?” He asked Thomas. “Too long, old friend.” Thomas replied, and they engaged in friendly conversation as neither had seen each other since their fathers dealt with similar business in their own youth. The elder woman approached John who kissed the back of her hand and she curtsied, him remaining respectful as their shared introductions. You however, approached Michael who looked back at you fondly. You curtsied to him and he bowed slightly. “It’s a pleasure Mr Gray.” You say, voice soft and unbroken. He took your hand and kissed the back of it gently. “All mine, Miss Wentworth.”

“And please, do call me Michael.” He told you, smiling gently. “Well in that case you’re compelled to call me Yn.” Michael studied your face; never in his twenty one years of existence had he seen such beauty before. Your skin was fair and undamaged - soft to the touch. Your nails were clean and manicured with a neutral colour. Your hair was cascading down by your ears, as if instructed to sit perfectly, framing your face. You eyes were innocent yet appeared all-knowing - your mouth formed into a graceful smile. And you carried yourself with such proper dignity; it was admirable.

“Yn my darling?” Your father spoke from beside him and you turned to face him on command - trained to do this. “Yes father?” “Please will you accompany Mister Gray into the living area? I’m sure you’ll both be quite comfortable in there.” You nodded once at the man. “Certainly, father.” “It was a pleasure to meet you gentleman, and see you again Mister Shelby.” You say to the other two, before leading Michael into the living area - which was nothing short of double the size of his childhood home.

“May i offer you some tea?” You ask, as you settle in the room. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” You nod as the maid by the for stepped out to grab tea. “Normally I’d make it myself, however it is improper to leave your company unaccompanied.” You joke and he laughs in response. Soon, the tea arrived and you served it for Michael, who took the cup and saucer thoughtfully and nodded in thanks.

“It’s a lovely home you have.” You smile up at him. “Thank you, I’m sure my father works tirelessly to afford it.” “You’ve no job?” He asked, awaiting the words that he was utterly and totally in love with you. “No, I’m trained in etiquette - to be polite, to cook and to clean.” Michael listened to you thoughtfully. “So you’re kept awfully busy then?” You nod. “Busy however I don’t mind it, I get to live in this glorious building with a loving family and life skills. What more could a girl want?” You confirm and he was sure his eyes were forming hearts.

“And I’m sure you have quite the line of suitors with your beauty.” You giggled but tried to compose yourself. “No sir.” His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Surely you’re already married, how has a man not captivated a lady such as yourself. I’d do it myself if it wasn’t for the line of men ahead of me.” You looked down, blushing, before looking back up at Michael. “There is no line and there are no suitors. It is simply me, myself and I.” You tell him.

“And you Michael? Have you a wife?” You asked, batting your eyelids. “No, in your words it is simply… ‘me, myself and I’.” “And what business do you do yourself, Mr Gray?” You ask. “That is not the sort of information for a lady’s ears. It is not good business.” He almost scolds and you nod. “Oh I understand, my father is not too dissimilar. Staying safe in your business, I hope?” He basked in the way you simply understood, didn’t pry. “Not quite.” He said, raising an eyebrow. He rolled up his left sleeve slightly and you gasped. “Oh you poor man,” you say. “You must treat these with oil, that way they shall heal better.” You scold, touching his skin gently. “Well if you were my wife you could sort it out for me.” “Oh certainly Michael, I wouldn’t allow you to come home damaged as such without properly patching you up.” You say, seriousness written all over your facial features.

“And what do you do with the rest of your time, this afternoon per se?” He ponders, sipping his tea. “Well as you said yourself I’m quite a busy person regardless of what I occupy my time with.” You peer down at the dainty wristwatch wrapped around your wrist, Michael estimated the small device at a hefty sum. “At two o’clock I have etiquette lessons.” You say “and at three?” “At three I read in my library” “how about four?” “At four I have a date.” His face dropped. “A date? With who?” “William Wordsworth.” You giggled at his expression which sighed a breath of relief. “Oh I see, she lives the poems she could not write.” He says, quoting the famed poet. “More like she writes the poems she could not live.” You reply, and Michael notices a longing stare as you probably imagine the life you would have, if not the heir to an infamous delegate.

“And no man has yet compared me to a summers day.” You admit. “You have not yet met your Shakespeare.” You smile, enjoying how he understood your references. “Nor my Victor Hugo” “ah but you have not yet died so nobody may quote ‘Demain, dès l’aube’.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “For I am always the poet, never the poem.” You speak; in words of your own. And Michael cannot stop himself from reaching up with his free hand to caress the soft skin of your cheek gently. “It is impossible. How can a man write anything short of a novel about a maiden so fair?” He question, and you find yourself absentmindedly leaning into his light touch.

“You’re a charmer, Mr Gray” you speak, voice barely above whisper “I’m no charmer, just a man who knows what he wants” he leans to whisper in your ear “is it working?” He meets your eyes with a cheeky grin on his face. “Certainly.” You both finished your tea and the trolley was taken away, miscellaneous chatter arising from each of your lips.

“Madam?” A voice squeaked from the door behind you both. You spun on a pivot to look at the young maid by the entrance. “Yes Beth?” “Mister Wentworth has requested you and Mister Gray return to the foyer” she said, avoiding your stare. “Thank you Beth, we shall be there shortly.” The woman nodded before clicking the door shut behind you to allow you to make your own way there along with the company. Michael’s face contorted: annoyed, but relaxed it when you faced back to him.

“I believe it is time for us to depart.” You tell him. “When may I see you again?” He asks, holding your hands in his own. “Whenever you wish, Mister Gray; should my father allow.” You tell him, before slowly leading him back to where you originally met. There, the rest of the men along with your parents stood as you’d left them - engaged in unwavering chatter. “Ah, Mister Gray - treated well I hope?” Your father asks and Michael nods at the man. “Certainly.”

After some goodbyes and a hug for your father’s old friend Thomas, Michael smirked at you and kissed the back of your hand and whispered promises that you shall meet again.

The men walked back to the car in silence, Thomas lighting a cigarette once inside. “How’d you like her?” He asked, eyeing Michael before nicotine smoke billowed from his lips. “She’s a lovely young lady.” Michael tore his eyes away from his cousin and back to the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of you as you drove away; but to no avail.

“She’s a gentle lass. Innocent and proper.” Thomas continued and Michael squinted at him, wondering what the man was getting at. “Doesn’t need corrupting.” “I know that Tommy, what you on about?” “We’ve come to a business agreement with Archibald Wentworth. They in exchange for protection and a good deal of Shelby business, his daughter would marry a gentleman.” Thomas stubbed the last bud out on the leather of the car. “I trust you can fit that role?”

#masterlist #xreader #smut #fluff #warner sister #angst #requests #x you #imagine #peaky blinders #michael #gray #michael gray x reader #Michael gray #michael gray peaky blinders #Michael gray x you #Cotswolds #John #Shelby #John Shelby #Tommy #Tommy Shelby #Thomas Shelby #Arthur #Arthur Shelby #Ada #Ada Shelby #Polly #Polly gray #Finn

[zablife]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well! I was wondering if you’d like to write something with this one, I’m not too late and your gif requests are still open🫶🏻

Hi Reb, tysm for the ask! I haven't written Michael much recently so this was a treat! I went for dark!Michael bc he's so perfect for that characterization. I hope you enjoy it!

I Told Them

"How? How the fuck did they know?" Michael asked, running his hands through his neatly combed hair.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, you stroked along the silk backing of his waistcoat. "Michael, I....there's something I need to tell you," you said in a trembling voice.

He turned capturing your small hands in his as his brow furrowed in confusion. "What is it?," he asked. Noticing how unsteady you looked on your feet, as though you might faint, he motioned toward a chair.

You searched the kitchen nervously, taking a seat across from your husband before clearing your throat. Michael paced to the other side of the room nervously as you collected your courage to speak.

Then finally you looked up at him, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes. "It was me," you said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I told them."

Michael stopped with a jerk and turned to face you, allowing your confession to wash over him slowly. "You fucking what?" he spat suddenly as he pressed his palms into the table, leaning forward to challenge you. You could see the rage building within him as his breath quickened.

"I told them," you repeated. With no servants bustling about, the sound of your words echoed off the tiled walls, amplifying your timid voice.

Michael's jaw clenched and his upper lip snarled with such animalistic aggression you thought he might lunge across the table at any moment. You clutched your arms tightly to your chest fearful of what he might do next.

"Was this your plan all along? Have me arrested so you could take my money?" Michael asked, walking around the long table toward you slowly.

You gulped as you shook your head. "No, of course not! I love you, Michael. I was only trying to help," you explained. The closer he drew to you, the more afraid you became.

Michael had changed in his brief time with the blinders. He was not the same boy you'd known in the village and he certainly wasn't the husband who vowed to love and cherish you. He was capable of anything, you knew that the night he came home covered in Father Hughes' blood.

Michael towered over you, a dangerous gleam in his eye as he raised you from the creaking chair by your elbow.

"They already knew about your family's involvement. It wouldn't have been long before they connected it to you. I thought if they knew the truth about the priest's past, you'd be granted clemency. Anyone who knew would surely show mercy because that man did terrible things and he deserved what he got," you rambled, hoping he would see you'd tried to be a loyal wife. No matter what he'd done, you were on his side.

His hand flew to your throat as he hissed, "If you believe one word of the shit you just said, you're dumber than I thought. They'll hang me for this!" He shook you with brutal force and you felt as though you might lose consciousness.

As he held you up against the cold iron sink for support, he inhaled a ragged breath. "Only one thing you said is true, Hughes deserved to die for what he did to me," Michael said, a distant look in his eye as the painful memories resurfaced.

The moment was not to last as his grip soon tightened painfully. Your vision went spotty from lack of oxygen and Michael leaned in to whisper, "And so do you."

#zablife ask box #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Michael Gray #Michael Gray fanfic #Michael Gray imagine #Michael Gray x you #Michael Gray x y/n #Michael Gray x reader #rebelwriter ❤️‍🔥

[eviegray]

imagine: michael gray comforts/helps you during a panic attack

you've never felt this way before. sure, you've been anxious before but had never gone through something like this.

you could swear you couldn't breathe. it's like your throat was deliberately closing itself and not allowing the air to circulate through, your heart racing at unbelievable speed... dizziness... palpitations and chest pain.

it felt like you were slowly being detached from your own body... almost as if you were watching yourself from someone else's perspective and you could do nothing about it.

lost in your thoughts, you didn't realise michael had entered the room.

as he stepped into the living room, michael's smile slowly faded as he saw you standing, almost as if you were in pure shock, trying your very best to breathe.

when his eyes landed on your figure, he dropped all the paperwork he was carrying and went to your rescue.

"sweetheart, talk to me. what is happening?" he asks, clear worry in his voice.

in all honesty, you tried, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

"it's okay baby, come sit down with me. it should help." he holds your hand and carefully guides you to the sofa with him.

michael's heart broke seeing you like this. he hated the fact that he wasn't there to help you since the beginning and you almost had to go through this horrible thing alone.

not anymore. he was there now, and he was going to help you.

"it's ok love. try to focus on your breathing only. is it ok if we try to breathe at the same time together? very slowly?" he asks.

you nod yes and carefully follow his instructions.

slowing inhaling and exhaling... you both do it a couple of times until you start feeling yourself coming back.

while he tries to get you to come back to your senses, he holds you close to his body.

"you're doing so well baby, I'm so proud of you. let's just keep going for a little bit longer until we get there ok?" he asks.

"okay, but can you please keep holding me?" you ask.

"of course I will. I wouldn't let you go, especially now." you can feel his arms getting tighter around your waist, his face around your neck... how comfortable and warm he feels against your skin...

michael brings you such comfort that it doesn't take too long for you to be back to normal.

"there we go. that's my baby back. how are you feeling now love?" he asks as he softly caresses your face.

"i think i'm alright now. thank you for helping me michael." you say, voice low.

"i'll always be here for you love. I'll never let you go through anything like this alone. never ever." he replies as he lays down with you, pulling your body next to his, giving you a gentle forehead kiss.

#michael gray x you #michael gray #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #michael gray fluff #michael gray fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #michael gray masterlist #michael gray headcanon #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky fookin blinders #finn cole #finn cole imagine

[blueeyedheizer]

❝DECISIONS❞

pairing: Michael Gray x Reader

content warning: none, just gina being an annoying cunt as usual

a/n: first michael fic in a long time :) it was originally supposed to take a veeeery different direction, super angsty, with the reader being angry at Michael and extra sassy, but oh well. I think Michael deserves some love after what they did to him in s6. || wc: 0,7

(gif not mine: ?)

"Are you sure this is what you want, Michael?"

The room had been plunged into a heavy, awkward silence before you interrupted it, the sharp sound of the slap Michael had received from his mother just moments before still ringing in your ear.

"Turning your back on your family and risking everything by becoming their enemy? Is that what you want?" you continued, pushing yourself away from the counter you were leaning against to take a step forward. You heard a scoff coming from behind you, but you knew better than to give Gina the attention she so desperately wanted. Instead, you kept your gaze on Michael and crossed your arms over your chest as you got no answer, his jaw clenching being the closest you got to a reaction.

"Don't worry about him." Gina eventually chimed in, seeing Michael wouldn't answer. Her signature sardonic smile was glued to her red tinted lips as she pushed herself up from her chair, approaching you. "We know what we're doing and I'm sure Michael can make his own decisions."

"What's your plan?" you questioned Michael, ignoring the american woman. But within a second, Gina was opening her mouth again.

"Tell her, baby." she said. You cringed at the pet name, your cheeks flexing. "At least you know this one is willing to listen."

"How about you shut the fuck up, huh?" you whipped around, taking a menacing step towards her. You'd had enough. "This is a conversation between me and Michael. Mind your own fucking business, Gina."

Gina's eyebrows raised at your sudden outburst, a mocking grin on her face as she directed her gaze toward Michael. She probably expected him to say something but he didn't, his expression unchanging.

"In business it's called a hostile takeover." he explained, catching your attention. "That doesn't mean anyone needs to get hurt." You held back a scoff. Non-violence has never been an option in this family. "I'll make an approach to the chinese suppliers and offer them more favorable terms."

"And more access to american buyers." Gina added. You cast her a pointed glare before focusing back on Michael.

"Gina's uncles are in Chicago, Boston, and Long Island." he continued. "They run whisky and gin from Canada, but booze is now being legalized again. So narcotics is the future. Tommy is taking too much on, his business is too big for him to handle."

Sucking in a breath, you ran a nervous hand through your hair as you began to pace silently around the room, taking in everything Michael was telling you.

You had a bad feeling about this. Tommy would have no mercy on Michael if he were to go on with this plan and try to outsmart him. He was risking so much.

Your pacing finally came to a stop and you took a hold of Michael's hands, forcing him to keep his attention on you.

"You need to tell Polly everything." you said calmly. Once again Gina shared her exasperation, the clicking of her heels resonating as she paced around you.

"Why? So she can read into our future and tell us something really bad is going to happen if Michael sticks to the plan?" she mocks. "You cannot be serious. Listen, honey...Michael laughs at this witchcraft bullshit when his family's not there. We don't need Polly's approval." she came up to Michael and placed a hand on his shoulder, clinging onto him. "Let's just go, baby. It's not worth it."

"Shut up, Gina." Michael finally snapped, giving his wife a cold glare. Gina's expression dropped and if you weren't so worried you would've smirked at the expression on her face when she drew back, walking back to her seat while mumbling something about 'this fucking family' under her breath.

"Michael, listen to me." you continued, lifting a hand to cradle one of your palms against his cheek. "I need to know you'll be okay. Please, if you won't do it for me or anyone from this family, do it for our daughter." you begged.

"Jesus Christ." Gina sighed.

"We'll speak to Pol, Y/N." Michael responded, taking your hand that was still on his cheek and giving it a squeeze. He could tell you were genuinely distraught. Although you and Michael had been divorced for two years you still cared a great deal about each other, therefore the thought of him getting hurt or possibly dying had you panicking. "I promise." he added softly, staring into your eyes as if to let you know he truly meant what he said.

A couple seconds passed until you nodded, releasing a breath of relief. After a quick moment of hesitation you cupped Michael's face and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, resting yours against it afterwards. Michael's hands came to your sides, his thumbs subconsciously stroking your skin in a soothing manner.

"I know your heart, Michael." you murmured, just loud enough for him to hear. "Your family has always mattered more than your business. Think about it, that's all i'm asking. And if you change your mind, just know that you'll always be welcome home. Your daughter misses you."

#blueeyedfinn #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray x you #michael gray fanfic #michael gray x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #michael gray imagine #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders fic

[peakywitch]

Old Chapters - Michael Gray

A/N: Season 6 spoilers AND PURE PURE PURE MICHAEL ANGST, quite the harsh vocabulary, mentions of a hypothetic abusive partner (there's no violence towards anyone!), almost a love triangle, michael x reader & tommy x reader, harshness level season 6! If you dont understand the story, don't worry neither do i lmaoo anyways enjoy xx

2k words

masterlist

The bell on the door rang, snitching on whoever got into the bookstore. Maybe it was Adam, who couldn’t take a no for an answer and came today to bother, yet again. But the guards that watched over the shop had strict rules from Tommy himself to not let him anyway near the door. Y/N listened carefully, trying to decipher the noise, if the intruder did any. She was kneeling down, and the stranger interrupted her while she was doing some stock review. Slowly, the small notepad that was in her hand was placed on the floor, and this helped her to find balance with the shelf in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” she said a few seconds after not hearing anything, “we’re already closed, we close at six, please come back tomorrow!”

She heard nothing in return, so maybe it was Tommy. But even the man announced himself every time. She waited a few more seconds but still, no noise. Not even Adam tumbling around and making books fly down. This silence was more dreadful than the Welsh curses that came from her suitor.

With a trembling hand, Y/N found reassurance when she hid the small gun in the pocket of her long, brown skirt. Before leaving the room she took a deep breath, trying to force a steady, undoubtful grip if needed. But, when she entered the main salon, a man was looking through pages of a book that had been bought more often than any other. But it wasn’t just any man.

It was Michael.

He was just standing there as if he owned the place and was doing some stock research.

“Hello, Y/N.” his low voice vibrated through her whole body, “long time no see.”

Indeed, long time no see.

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. There was no possible answer, there was no need for a warm welcome. He didn’t deserve the Welcome back to Birmingham Michael! nor did he deserve her tears. Yet, she couldn't control those.

“You own this place now?” He asked, and for the first time in years, she saw his eyes, again. The last time she had seen him, it was at Polly’s funeral. His eyes expressed many more things than he had ever expressed. But now, he looked shallow, bored to death and stuck in limbo.

“Only one thing has changed in the last few years, and it’s something I thought you’d never lose. Your way with words.” He closed the book softly and left it in its original place. Now, all of his attention was directed to her.

“I ran out of words that morning, Michael. I don’t have anything else to say to you. Not that you would care, or that they would matter.”

When Michael left for Boston, it was a Thursday morning. She found out after she spent the night at Polly’s because of a fight the afternoon before. She was in Tommy’s office, and the leather couch was acting as a safety net because after he left without her she found herself spiralling out of control in her anxiousness. In the shatters of her heart, now scattered all over the place. Tommy took matters into his own hands when he found out that his cousin didn’t have the courtesy to tell his girlfriend that he was leaving. Without her.

Michael cleared his throat.

“I’m not here to talk about the past-” he took both of his gloves off, and the shinny wedding band that was hiding under the leather twisted a knife that she thought was long lost.

“There’s no past to talk about.” She muttered, trying to sound confident. He stared at her while taking off his hat. Those same, deep blue eyes always gave him a smug look, yet a kind one. His hair was smoothly brushed, and there wasn't a strand out of place. He was looking as if he had a nice life.

“I’ll be quick, and I’ll be blunt, too. Tommy wants me dead-” His voice sounded loud and clear, he obviously developed confidence out of nowhere.

“That much I know.” Y/N voiced out with a bit of sarcasm and Michael raised his eyebrows, surprised at her newfound tone and continued.

“And I, also, want him dead. But not just because I want to live enough to see my and Gina’s son grow up, but also because I want him to pay for what he did to my mum.”

My and Gina's son.

Lawrence Gray.

She saw the boy once, in a picture that was published in the papers in an article about Gina’s uncle, Jack, opening a new hospital for children and using his nephew and media bait. Blonde hair, and Michael’s face. There was no denying it. That’s what hurt the most. Because if the baby looked a bit more like Gina, she could have brushed it off. Maybe think of her as a whore. But it wasn’t the case. Same soft nose, long lips and that smile she had once seen in him, as he was a boy in the village.

The village.

That haunted, forsaken place that they wanted to leave way behind. That place that they left behind, together. Only for her to be left behind next.

“I want you to help me to take him down, Y/N. I can’t do it without you.” Y/N snorted out a laugh, he couldn’t be serious! He had to be joking!

“Oh my God, I think you should ease it with the snow, Michael.” she laughed out, but he remained unmovable in his place. He wasn’t joking.

“He trusts you, Y/N. And this is not for me-” his voice started to raise, letting her know that he took her laughter as an offence.

“Everything is always because and for you, Michael!” She fought back.

“This is for my mum!” he yelled. And Y/N stood in her place. The only time that she heard him yell, was the day of the fight, she would be lying if she said Michael was a verbally abusive partner. Maybe a dickhead, an idiot and sometimes a fucking twat. But he never abused her, in any way. Which made Y/N hate him more because if he was as nasty and as easy to hate as Adam, she wouldn't have had a tough time getting over him.

She stayed there, petrified in front of him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”

Fuck you, Michael Gray. Let me hate you.

“I want you to help me. And then, I will help you to keep the bookstore, or I can help you move out of Birmingham. I just… I need to trust someone inside.” He was trying his best to look… sensitive. To provoke something.

Y/N stared at him, not believing what he had just said. He became a stupider man.

“Gina sucked the intelligence out of you, Michael?” She laughed in disbelief.

Michael looked away. His ex-girlfriend talking about his wife and- yeah, she still had her thing with words.

“You actually want me to join you because you want to see how I'll stick with Tommy and want to convince yourself that you were right, that I would have eventually betrayed you. Or left you for Tommy or some shit like that. But guess what? I am not taking sides here-”

“There’ll be a day where you will need to choose a side.”

He sounded like a holy man, talking about judgement day. It made her crawl in her own skin.

“Jesus, Michael, who do you think I will choose? The man that left me and married someone else without notice? Or the man that took a chance on me and is now helping me? Do you want me to choose if the day comes? Fine, I will. But just know Michael, I would never betray you.” he smiled, “but then again, I will never betray Thomas. Because, unlike you, he never betrayed me, or my trust.”

“He betrayed me, and my mother!”

“You failed him first! You set him up, you sold him to Changretta, Michael! The man that killed John and almost killed you! And then, you betrayed me, I was your girlfriend! You told me you loved me!”

“Oh, come on! We were both barely 20, what did we know about love, ey!?” There it is, there it fucking is. A reason to hate him. “I heard you say that you loved me, night after night! And then, you just evaporated, and he was the one that told me, he was the one that helped me move out so I wouldn’t have to be the one to take everything out of your house, Michael! I was distraught!”

“I was young, Y/N!” he stated, trying to defend his reckless actions.

“I was younger, Michael! Three, almost four years younger! Fuck! But I always had at least a bit of human decency in m’self! I would have never, ever done something to you that would hurt you in the very least! And guess what? Age is not an indication of emotional responsibility, my son is ten times more considerate than you, and he is three years old!”

The sentence ripped apart her throat and her heart. Months of anger, nights of tears and mornings of dread. His ghost danced around the house for months on every sleepless night. Michael stood there, frozen, and she kept on speaking, allowing the words she only dreamed of saying to come out.

“So guess what? I will stand by the man that never betrayed me. You just want to see me sell you out, because you know I would if you ever told me about your plan of killing Thomas. Because he’s the only one left that I have, and I would sell you out if that meant I got to keep him. You wanted to see if you could trust me? Well, guess what? You can’t! You fucking can’t! Just like I will never, ever trust in you again!”

He laughed bitterly, and putting on his hat again, he spoke grimly.

“I always knew you’d betray me in the end.”

“No, you got this wrong. I will never betray the man that I love. Neither the man that I once loved. And.. not only did I love you, Michael. I adored you. Shit, I would have left for America with you! But… but now I’m so glad I never did. I have a loyal man by my side who cares for me and our kid. And I have barely any time to think of you and how you broke my heart. So go ahead. Go ahead and try to make me betray my husband, Michael. Because if you ever get a bullet in that fucked up brain of yours, it will be because of me. Don’t try my limits, because I am not the same stupid and disposable girl you once knew.”

The shallow and gloomy facade he once had, was now long gone. Even though he was the one to force her to move on, he was shameless enough to believe she actually would move on.

“So…” he said, putting on his gloves, “you have a son?” Was this some attempt to guilt-trip her?

“Yes, James. Causes more trouble than I ever did. But then again, it’s the Shelby blood, they were also quite the thing.” She smiled for the first time she had seen him that day. A small, shy and sad smile. Michael's eyes roamed her entire body, and smiled, after noticing one small detail.

“That they are.”

They stayed in silence looking everywhere but at each other. The books, the shelves, the chandelier, and the small cat sleeping in the staircase that everyone seemed to love. Without a word, Michael walked to the door and Y/N followed carefully every step. He placed his hand on the doorknob and opened the door after twisting it softly. The cold, winter air filled the shop.

“I’m happy you have James now. But you also forgot three small details. You’re not wearing a wedding band, nor is your finger shaped to its form, I doubt Tommy would allow that. You also forget that we both, too, were quite a handful. And the last one, you were never a good liar. Goodbye, Y/N.”

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[calummss]

okay serious question and it would be great if some could answer :)

reader stories in second person or third person?

would be great if i could get a few answers :)

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