#michael gray angst
Note
I love alfie as the readers dad hahah, how about one where Y/N and Michael are having an argument and she tells her dad and he threatens Michael? Maybe a little angsty?
sounds good! thanks for the request, hope you enjoy 🤍
death wish — m.g
pairings ; michael gray x fem solomons!reader
summary ; you and michael argue about alfie sabotaging the peaky blinders, to which he blames it on you. michael says some horrible things to you which makes you upset. you tell your dad and alfie teaches him a lesson.
warnings ; slight angst, strong use of language, name calling (whore, coward, etc), arguing, shouting, threats, face grabbing, crying. — kind of happy ending
authors note ; i really like this one! i can totally see alfie being an overprotective dad. next time he might actually kill michael😳
“How the fuck is it my fault?” You scream at Michael in his mothers kitchen. “Because he’s your fucking dad” he shouts back. Polly is sitting at the dining table reading a newspaper, trying her best to ignore the two of you.
“That doesn’t mean it’s my fault, I can’t control what he does” your voice raises. Michael is blaming you for something your dad did again. Alfie is known for playing games with the Peaky Blinders, and he’s gone and done it again. This time, you’re put to blame by your own boyfriend.
Polly shakes her head while flipping the page over. You’re both giving her a headache in her own bloody house. “You’re the only fucking person he listens to, Y/n, just talk to the bastard and tell him to fuck off” Michael comes really close to your face at the end, only inches away from yours.
He’s intimidating to say the least but you never fear any man with Alfie Solomons as your father. “Michael” Polly warns him without taking her eyes off her newspaper. “It’s none of my business” you gulp as his threatening eyes stare into yours.
“Yes it is your business, if he always fucks with us, how do we know you won’t do the same?” He acts as if you’re some kind of traitor. “Is that really what you think of me?” You laugh. He clenches his jaw at the sound of your laughter. This angered him.
“Yeah that’s what I think of you, you’re the daughter of that fucking slippery bastard, no wonder you’re the way you are, nothing but a no good whore” he taunts, stepping away from you to put his hands on the kitchen table. Your mouth opens in shock and Polly drops her newspaper in her lap.
“Michael!” Her voice raises. She’s in disbelief of the way her son is speaking to his girlfriend. “What, mum?” Michael shouts, getting frustrated with both you and Polly. “Don’t you dare speak to her like that” she points her finger at him and he rolls his eyes.
“What, you’re on her side? After everything Alfie has fucking put us through?” Michael scoffs. You’re offended by his words but he’s just angry, he doesn’t really mean them. “I’m on no one’s side, Michael” His mum tells him.
“But for you to blame Y/n is wrong. Whatever her father decides to get up to us his own business, not hers, for Christ’s sake” Polly shakes her head. She’s mad at her son but she can’t control him. “Like I said, she’s the only person he listens to so she could do something about it, she just chooses not to” Michael uses sarcasm to speak about you as if you’re not in the room.
Polly rolls her eyes. There’s no point in arguing with him if he’s not going to listen. She picks up her newspaper and continues reading it. “It’s not that I choose not to, Michael, it’s that I don’t want to get involved with stupid little gang business with you and your coward cousins” you snap back at him, causing him to close his eyes and inhale a sharp breath.
He’s trying everything to stay calm and not lash out on you, but the way things are going, he’s ready to break any second. “You’re being a coward right now Y/n” he calmly says, avoiding looking at you. “No you’re a fucking coward Michael, always following orders from Tommy, what are you? His pet?” You laugh. Polly glares at you, telling you to shut up only with her eyes. She knows her son has a short temper, you’re only making things worse.
“Shut up” he says with his eyes shut. His fists balling up on the dining table. But you don’t listen. “But these aren’t Tommy’s orders are they? If Tommy wants to do something about my dad then so be it, but you need to stop acting so fucking tough when you’re too much of a little sap to do it yoursel—”
Your words were quickly cut short by Michael slamming his hands on the table, rushing to grab your jaw with a bruising grip. “Tommy doesn’t fucking tell me what to do” he nastily said through gritted teeth. “Michael!” Polly widens her eyes, hurriedly getting up to pull her son away from you.
“Tommy doesn’t own me, no one fucking owns me, so shut your mouth before I shut it for you, you hear me?” He threatens, his mother gripping his arm to pull him away but he nudges her off. “You hear me?” Michael shouts, making you flinch. “Michael, that’s enough” Polly says, not giving up on trying to pull him off you.
Michael’s eyes stare into yours. His blue eyes glowing with anger intimidates you, forcing you to nod. He scoffs, roughly ripping his hand away from your face. He walks away, his mum following him to scold him. You hear them shouting at each other but you take in no words. You’re too upset and shocked at the way Michael just treated you. Way too overwhelmed to stay, you rush out of the house in tears. Your house isn’t too far from Polly’s so you head home.
↛ at home
Walking into the house and slamming the door after yourself gains Alfie’s attention. “Hey kid, you alright?” He asks from the living room, peeking his head over to look through the doorway. You walk into the room, your dad instantly notices that you’re upset.
“What’s wrong?” He frowns as you throw yourself onto the seat next to him. “Michael…” you sob. He can barely stand Michael as it is, but now that he’s made you cry, he dislikes him even more. “What did he fucking do?” He asks in a protective tone, wrapping his arm over your shoulder to pull you close. He’s always been good at comforting you.
“He… he said it’s my fault that you always cause a war with Tommy” you cry as you explain, Alfie rubbing your shoulder to calm you down. “Did he?” His eyebrows raise. “Yeah… and he.. he called me a whore” you wipe your own tears away.
Those words were enough to make Alfie grab his gun and find Michael there and then. “A whore?” His tone changes. He went from comforting to angry in less than a second. “And he grabbed me and it hurt… but Polly pulled him away” you tell him. He listens to every word you say.
You explained everything else you felt like you needed to before Alfie got up and left. He was heading to Tommy’s house to sort things out between them, but really he was going to teach Michael a thing or two about messing with his kid.
↛ Tommy’s house, 1 hour later
Knocking on Michael’s office door, Tommy’s maid entered and told Michael he was needed downstairs. He heads down with a cigarette in his hand, opening the doors to Tommy’s office to see him, Polly and Alfie all stood. Michael rolls his eyes, knowing what’s coming for him.
“Don’t stand there and roll your eyes, get over here” Polly demands her son to do. Michael follows her orders, walking up to Tommy’s desk to toss his cigarette in the ashtray. He purposely walks closest to Alfie to stand next to his mother.
“What’s he doing here?” Michael asks with a spark of confidence in his voice as he sits down. Polly sits next to him but the other two men stay standing. “You know why I’m here, boy” Alfie’s tone is serious. “Me and Alfie talked business. We’re back on the same side, but I think you know why you’re in here, Michael” Tommy sighs, outing his own cigarette in the ashtray.
“Mhm” Michael hums in response. He seems bored. “Go on then, why are you here?” Tommy asks, feeling like he’s a primary school teacher solving conflict between two kids. Michael takes his time before responding. “Because of Y/n?” He rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, because of Y/n, now are you gonna tell me why you put your fucking filthy hands on my daughter?” Alfie asks, using hand gestures to show his anger towards the boy. Michael scoffs, looking at Polly. “No don’t look at your mother, look at me” Alfie demands, locking eye contact with Michael.
“I didn’t put my hands on her” Michael shakes his head. He didn’t recall grabbing her face meant putting his hands on her. “No? Then why’d she come home crying, saying you grabbed her and hurt her?” Alfie’s eyebrows raise. He’s trying to handle the situation but with how smug Michael is acting, he’s getting angry.
“Because she wasn’t fucking listening to me, she just kept going on and on about how you’re a coward and I’m just a sap who takes orders from you” Michael says, turning his head to Tommy who says nothing. He just blinks with a blank expression.
“You did call her a whore, Michael” Polly steps in and Michael rolls his eyes. With Polly as a witness, she told both Tommy and Alfie what happened before Michael had entered the room. “Yeah, well most of the time Tommy is a coward and you are just a sap who takes orders from him, but calling Y/n a whore is just the bottom line, ain’t it?” Alfie gets mad.
“Well she should stop acting like one” Michael mutters and Polly shakes her head. This could go easier if Michael would just follow. “What did you say?” Alfie asks, turning his ear to face him to hear what he said because mumbling under his breath won’t do him any justice.
“I said she should stop acting like one. She gets male attention all the time and she looks like she fucking enjoys it” Michael responds smugly. He and Alfie are just as pissed off as each other. “She’s a pretty girl, Michael, obviously she’s going to get attent—” Polly starts to say.
“You’re the only man she’s been with. She told me that herself. She fucking loves you, boy, and I’m giving you the privilege to go out with my daughter and you’re fucking it up all because being a Peaky Blinder has gotten to your fucking thick head” Alfie taunts to see Michael scoff. Tommy is just listening to every word that’s being spoken.
“And you’re just gonna allow that?” Michael asks, pointing at Alfie whilst looking at Tommy. Tommy shrugs, not saying a word to show he means not getting involved. Tommy doesn’t care about anything Alfie is saying about him or the Peaky Blinders, he just cares about solving conflict between them both.
“Alfie’s right, Michael. You used to be sweet to Y/n, I remember when you’d come home and tell me everything about her. You’d sit for hours going on about how pretty she is, how much you love her, how you want to marry her. Now being in this gang has gotten to your head” Polly tells him and he sighs.
This time Michael doesn’t have a snarky response or roll his eyes. He just sighs. He knows he’s in the wrong and listening to the words his mother just told him made him realise how different your relationship is now. “And Y/n would say the same. She wouldn’t shut up about this Michael boy, and now look at you, sitting in this room with me like it’s fucking parents evening at school” Alfie shakes his head.
“Yeah, well…” Michael shrugs. Unable to find a response. “You don’t want to lose a girl like Y/n, Michael, it will break your heart” Polly sighs, putting her hand on her sons arm. “There’s a hundred men in Small Heath who would die for a girl like her, and you have her, Michael” Tommy finally spoke, causing all three of them to turn their heads to look at him.
“Do you not hear how much your cousins say they’re jealous of you because Y/n chose to be with you and not them?” Polly recalls, speaking about John and Arthur which makes Alfie’s eyebrows frown. He doesn’t like the way men speak about his daughter, but now isn’t the time to curse out Tommy’s brothers.
Michael nods and looks down in his lap. He has nothing to say, but he’s full of regrets. The whole room can feel his emotions just by looking at him. After a few moments of silence, Alfie breaks it. “Go to my house and say sorry to her” Alfie almost orders Michael to do. “And buy her some flowers on your travels” Polly says, tapping his arm to let him go.
Michael stands up to leave the room. But before exiting, Alfie has one last thing to say. “Put your hands on my daughter again and you’ll have a death wish, boy, hear me?” He glares at Michael. The boy turns around to face Alfie. “Yes, sir” he nods before leaving the room. Tommy, Polly and Alfie are going to finish up talking about the business side of the conflict whilst Michael makes his way to you. He buys you flowers to show his sincere apology. He’ll make it up to you, maybe not right now, but some day.
#michael gray x y/n#michael gray x reader#michael gray#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders#michael gray angst#alfie solomons daughter#tommy shelby#polly gray
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Wish I could - Michael Gray
asked! "Hey hope your day’s going well :) “I wish I could marry you…” & Michael Gray? Thanks so much love 💕" SPOILER FREE! pure fluff, too!
500 words!
masterlist
check out my prompt list! you can send an ask, because i'll be updating A LOT! And also, please let me know what type of thingy you want, fluff, angst, blah blah blah, so i won't dissappoint anyone and everyone will get what they want!
“I wish I could marry you…” he whispered in her ear, while holding her from behind.
The fire was burning softly, and the dog that they found one night a few years ago in the darkness of the alley was now the most loyal guard dog for baby Eliza. Everywhere she went, so did Porridge. And her curious nose was always trying to tuck her safely under the blue blanket. Polly had been wrong, for once in her life. It wasn’t a boy, like everyone predicted, it was a girl. A giggly and calm girl, one that didn’t give them too much trouble.
“You wish you could marry me?” she muttered back, her fingers going up and down his forearm.
“Yes, I wish I could marry you. Again, you know?”
When Y/N met Michael, she thought he was a tough one, a man like Tommy. One that would only keep her warm in the lonely hours of the night, and that she wouldn’t feel seen, admired, obscenely loved. But Michael had that in himself, he was open, yet so private. All, all of his love was just for the two women in his life: Eliza and Y/N. His daughter and his wife.
His family.
His dreams had come true, his truest, deepest and realest dream was now his reality. A family to come home to, a wife that had his back and would stick through thick and thin and a daughter that he would do anything for. He didn’t like to navigate too much into that thought, because the mere idea of having to go to the inhuman levels of brutality to just be sure that her future would be promised, gave him goosebumps and a sense of anxiety. Not because he didn’t want to do those things, but because he wanted Eliza to grow up away from that life. Away from what he once was. What he told himself he wasn’t anymore.
But, was he ever something before her? He could barely remember who he was before her. A man whose heart only had a beat to keep him alive, and now that same heart was full with love, pride and so many other emotions that made Michael realize he wasn’t alive before.
Whoever the person before him was, he was long gone. The feeling of the sticky and warm blood dripping from his hands was now even barely there, since it was replaced by that first feeling of hugging his daughter. So small, so soft, so light and ever so fragile. If there’s anything more precious than his memory of holding her for the first time… he didn’t want to know.
“Tomorrow is our anniversary, you can write some vows if you want. You know I love it when you just tell me over and over again how amazing I am.” Michael laughed a bit louder than he would have wanted, and Liz mumbled something from her crib. They both froze in their place. “If you wake her up, Michael Gray, you’re taking over. I’m too tired.”
He was tired, too. He was a working man and one of the few men in the city that actually did something in the house. But he would put through the baby fuzz if that meant spending one or two more hours with her.
#michael gray blurb#michael gray#michael i love you#michael gray fanfiction#michael gray angst#michael gray fluff#michael gray x reader#michael gray x y/n#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#thomas shelby#john shelby#the peaky blinders#finn shelby#arthur shelby
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Do You Think It's Easy? - Michael Gray x OC
Plot: Thea Sikes had been previously engaged to the infamous, Michael Gray before he was forced off to America due to the Vendetta of the Italians. However, she was left pregnant and a few months later, without a fiancee. Now, Michael has returned however with a new pregnant wife on his arm.
Inspired by Season 2 of Friends (where Ross with Julie and he discovers Rachel's feelings for him.)
disclaimers; swearing and angst.
“We got the books.”
“Oh, that’s…” Thea trailed off, unaware of what to say to Michael’s comment, as she stood there in front of him, tea towel in hand from cleaning up after their daughter. “…interesting.”
“No. Its not interesting, okay?” Michael responded, shaking his head back at her. “Its very very not interesting, Theadora.”
Oh, did Michael strike a nerve there. She never let anyone speak to her if they were planning on using her full name. She hated it as it reminded her of the mother that long abandoned her hence going her nickname instead.
“I got it, Michael!” Thea interrupted, raising a hand to stop the boy from going on any further.
“You had no right to tell you that you still kept feelings!” He snapped back, pointing a shaking finger in the direction of the young mother.
“What?”
“I’m doing brilliant with Gina! Didn’t you hear that we’re fucking married and she’s got one in- “
“Do want a fucking medal?” Thea yelled back, thanking the Gods that Polly was keeping her daughter for the night. “Can’t you see that she’s bloody using you!?”
Michael refused to listen to the accusations (which were probably true) as they didn’t matter to him, at this point in time. “Whatever, just I was doing well with Gina before I found out about you!”
“Hey, I was doing great before I found about you!” Thea snapped back, the tear ducts threatening to break. “You think it’s easy for me to see you with Gina?”
“Well then, you should’ve said something while you had the chance!” He cried back, bringing his hands to run through his gelled curly hair.
“You refused to answer your fucking phone!” Thea was becoming overwhelmed. Hearing those words come out of Michael was much too unlike him. Much different to the boy she fell in love with, all those years back. “How come you didn’t do that!?”
“There was a never a good time!”
“Oh, that makes perfect sense!” She smiled sarcastically, waving her arms around. “You only had a year, and you were sulking in your penthouse all night!”
“How did you—”
“Your mother told me.”
“It wasn’t every night.” Michael responded in a firm stone, his brown eyes glaring back into her green ones. “And it’s not like I didn’t try, Thea, but things got in the way! Like the Italians and Gypsy boys!”
He was referring to her brief fancy with Bonnie Gold, Thomas Shelby’s other kestrel. He couldn’t blame her on the inside. She was on her own, especially due to John’s death and Esme taking off with the kids. Polly was there, as was Arthur and Aberama, but they felt more of parents to her rather than someone she could fling around with.
“Hey! There was only one Gypsy boy!” Thea reminded, pointing her finger back at him. “I’d show him some fucking respect considering he convinced his family to let you travel with him to avoid your fucking death. Do you even have a point, Michael!?”
Michael stepped closer, the gap becoming them now mere centimeters as the tension increased. “The point is, I don’t need this right now. It’s too late.”
“So, you’re just going to put away your feeling or whatever the bloody hell that was?” Thea sniffed, the tears spilling out as she trying to hide them back; refusing to let Michael see her ever so vulnerable.
“Hey, I’ve doing it since for five years, I’ve gotten pretty fucking good at it.” He hissed, his face inching slightly closer, his view was fixated on the wet red cheeks of hers.
“Alright, fine, you go ahead and do that, Michael!” Thea ordered, pushing his chest as she held out her arm, moving him closer to her front door.
“Fine! Fine!”
“I don’t need this!”
Michael followed her request, not even shutting the door, just walking straight out as Thea ran up to the door, stepping out to shut it herself.
“And you know what!?” She yelled, so he could hear. “Now, I got closure!”
With that sentence, she slammed the door, refusing to look back at her once lover, walk down the cobbled streets of Watery Lane. Collapsing on the front step of the staircase, she let the tears dance freely down her pale cheeks.
Her memory became clouded of old memories of the two. The oldest one being of when she first made eye-contact with him in Polly’s old kitchen after he was finally reunited with his mother, thanks to Thomas Shelby. She never thought someone to be so handsome as Michael did in that moment. He wasn’t a Peaky Blinder then. He was a country boy with a true heart and a bold love for horses, especially bay-mares.
However now, it was all corrupted. He no longer had that look of astonishment in his eye whenever they caught each other’s gaze but rather a look of despair and victim as hers was full of shame and worry once she saw Gina approach him, the stupid little smirk playing on her lips.
‘This was silly’ she thought. Realizing she needed her rest, she brushed down her dress, as to avoid any reminders of her crying and went to lock the door however was interrupted by a rather violent knock.
It wouldn’t be Polly, after all she had the baby. Arthur would be at the Garrison or flat out in his armchair, which Thea wished she could be there to look after him. Aberama? He never visited through the night, knowing sleep was the love of her life currently.
Her hand grasped the doorknob, carefully pulling the wood open to see who was frantically asking after her.
Michael.
The two refused to move. Just staring back at each other.
He was soaking wet from the heaving rain and yet he remained adamant to stay in his spot, taking in her appearance, fearing it would be the last time they would lay eyes on one another.
Taking his shot, he stepped a polished shoe forwards towards the entrance of the house of Watery Lane and cupped the two cheeks as he connected their lips as quickly as he could.
Thea gasped at his action however kissing him back as if it was her source of life. Reaching her arms around his back to cradle him close; from what she had seen of Gina, this type of passion was hardly welcomed in his new life.
Michael kept his lips locked onto hers, wanting to live in said moment rather than sulk back to his wife however he knew of Thea’s morality. She relied upon it like Polly relied on God itself. As Thea, brought her hands to rummage through the gelled hair, not seeming to give a flying fuck whether it was messy or not, Michael smiled into the kiss lightly, pulling her closer with the grip he had on her.
Despite her determination to carry on, Thea pulled away, giving herself the chance to stare back at the country boy (now turned Gangster). She ran a soft finger over the now puffed lips while all he could do was melt at the sight of her worrying eyes, soaking every inch of his thoughts.
“Its always been you, Thea.”
#michael gray#michael gray x reader#michael gray x oc#thomas shelby#finn cole x reader#peaky blinder fanfic#michael gray angst#peaky blinders angst#polly gray#bonnie gold x reader#arthur shelby#michael gray fanfic#aberama gold#cillian murphy#angst
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HENRY ~ Michael Gray x OC
Part six: My Mother's Wedding Dress
Warnings: mentions sex, angst, trauma.
Esther arrived back at Watery Lane thanks to Arthur and John taking it in turns to carry her. She was hysterical and in shock, she was shivering like a puppy left out in the winter.
As soon as the three of them stepped over the threshold Polly sprung into action. "Have a seat there love!" She pulled out a chair and sat Esther down in it. Her knees bashed together like a nervous child. "Esme fetch her a cup of tea!" Polly barked.
"Why do I have to -" Esme whined but Polly cut her off by raising a finger warning her to behave.
"Fuck that she needs whisky! That always stops the shakes." Arthur piped in.
"Don't give her any of that crap. Gin" she heard footsteps walking into the room. Then a hand pressing reassuringly on her shoulder. She looked up to see Michael in a half unbuttoned shirt, covered in blood stains. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her feel safe. She didn't notice herself stop shaking, but everyone else did. However they said nothing in fear she would start again.
"I told you to get that off else those stains will set in the cotton!" Polly got up out of her chair opposite Esther, and started unbuttoning Michaels shirt.
"Mum!" Michael sighed at her.
"Alright alright do it yourself and give it to me." She threw her hand in the air.
Michael unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and handed it to his mother who went into the kitchen to scrub it in the sink.
Everyone else had cleared out of the room now. Michael walked round and crouched in front of Esther's chair. Her eyes were still wide and frightened. He cupped her face with his hand. "Do you want me to walk you home Es?"
"You will stay with us tonight Esther." Polly sauntered back into the room, drying her hands from cleaning Michael's shirt. "It's not good to be on your own after something like that." Polly folded the cloth and layed it over the back of a chair to dry.
"Thank you," Esther smiled sweetly.
It was a short drive to Polly's house in Sutton. When they arrived Esther was reminded of the village where her and Michael grew up. The house was much larger however than their little cottages. With a large front lawn instead of a chocolate box garden with a winding path and wild flowers. Michael opened the car door for her and followed her into the house after Polly.
They were greeted in a large sitting room by a maid. "Please fetch clean sheets and get the guest bedroom ready." The maid nodded and headed upstairs. Esther sat down gingerly in the corner of the sofa. Polly sat opposite. Michael perched himself at the other end of the sofa.
Polly chuckled. "Fine pretend you don't know eachother I don't care. I'll fetch some tea." She goes over to a tea tray in the corner where hot tea is sitting in a tea pot and china cups and saucers are sitting ready. She pours the tea and then they all sit around drinking silently. The oral fixation of the hot tea focuses Esther's mind.
On the other end of the sofa Michael is quietly contemplating. The flowers on the saucer reminds him of a day they spent in a medow just outside the village.
They had run into the fields to escape their parents for a while. They were both sixteen going on seventeen. He remembers her that day vividly as if it was a painting in his mind. Her hair was tangled like a child's but her face was beautiful like a woman. A wildness to her. He remembers how she layed in the long grass, the evening sun shining off her face. "Make love to me Henry." She said innocently. Her plump lips still damp from swimming in the stream. This still made him shiver. He remembers that day he was filled with unexplainable anger. This was not how it was supposed to be. She was not supposed to be acting like this. She could do better, be better, be more than this. He laughed and kissed her on the forehead and walked her home. They never spoke of it again. Yet every time they saw eachother it hung in the air like cobwebs on a dewy winter morning. Stringing them together, glistening in the air.
After dinner Esther excused herself to her room. She was tired and Polly thought she could use the rest. The guest room was mostly used for storage. There were picture frames with paintings and photos of people. As Esther looked through them she saw a photo of a man who looked just like Michael, but older. That must have been his real father. There were boxes of old clothes and fabric, as well as a large collection of miscellaneous trinkets.
In the corner of the room there was a large wooden chest with brass detailing. Esther walked over and slowely undid the latch. Inside there was a huge cloud of white fabric. She pulled it out of the chest and tossed it on the bed she stepped out of her own dress and carefully draped the white lace and satin around her. She stared at herself in a floor length mirror.
Suddenly the door latch clicks and the hinges creek. "Esther?" She hears the floorboards creek under the carpet. She turns to look at him. Cobwebs hung in the air; a string connecting the two of them. Like a fishing line, with bait at both ends. "That was my mother's wedding dress." Michael doesn't take his eyes off her.
"Oh I'm sorry I'll take it off-" Esther reaches for the lace at the back to untie it.
"No-" Michael is so still, like he is scared to move as if he might wake up and realise this is all a dream. "I always tried picture how beautiful you would look on our wedding day, but I never could do you justice."
Esther stepped out of the dress. Folding it carefully and placing it back in the chest.
She walked over to him and stood there innocently in front of him. The moonlight shone through the window opposite her.
"Make love to me Michael."
#michael gray angst#michael gray smut#michael gray x reader#michael gray#tommy shelby#peaky blinder headcanon#peaky blinders#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#polly gray#polly shelby
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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
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𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑃𝑡．1
𝐷𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦 𝑥 𝐴𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑒 𝑆𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑚𝑜𝑛’𝑠
𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦；𝐷𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝑇𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑦 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐷𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑡 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑠ℎ 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙 𝑖𝑛 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑛. 𝑠ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛. 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟. 𝐷𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ 𝑠𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑙. 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑡. 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑎 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟. 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦.
When she was young all Dorothy wanted to do was to make her farther proud of her. When he came home from war. It was like the little girl had turned in to a complete stranger. She would draw him pictures only to later find them in the bin. She tried everything. She always did well in school but none of it was never enough for him.
So soon enough the young girl stood trying. She didn’t even speak with her so called farther. Dorothy couldn’t remember a time when the two of them had a conversation. She would watch the way John was with his children. How he would swing Katie around and cuddle her. She often imagined that her dad would do that to her.
But that day never came. And now here she was. in an all girls boarding school. She only had a few months of school left. She hated the place. It was filled with nuns. And there was one strange perverted priest. But Dorothy managed to keep out of trouble. Her quietness kept her away from most of the cruel punishments.
She did have to admit. That the place was incredibly lonely. She had no friends. And she didn’t receive any mail on Fridays like the rest of the girls. And Fridays were the days that Dorothy would spend on her own in her bedroom crying. She just wanted someone to write to her. Ask her if she was ok. Ask her how she was doing.
She just longed for one little letter. And then she received one. But it was far from the one she expected. It was an investment to her farther’s wedding. No are you ok? No. How are you? Just a shot in invitation. ‘𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑇𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑠 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐺𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝐵𝑢𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑆𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟’ that was in four days. And all Dorothy wanted to do was to shove the invitation down her farther’s throat.
But the young woman chose to be civilised and decided to attend. She had taken the train to Birmingham and she would probably call a taxi from the train stations public phone. She had worn one of her best dresses. And she had gotten her hair cut. Her hair was nearly down her back when she was fourteen and now she had it cut to her shoulders with pretty curls.
She had changed a lot in four years. She looked nothing like she did when she had first left for London. And her voice was very much different. Her words always sounded very smart. And she had a strong posh London accent. She no longer sounded as rough as she once did and Dorothy quite liked the change.
She wanted to leave every thing that reminded her of her last life. She watched out of the window as the taxi pulled up to the church. It was large. She saw some men standing out side smoking a cigarette. She had arrived ten minutes early. But it seemed as though she was not the only one which put her mind at ease lightly.
As Dorothy exited the car she handed the money over to the man bidding him a fair well. The young woman made her way over to the church noticing some of the men smoking their cigarettes outside staring at her. They were wearing cavalry uniforms which confused her. She remembered how much her family hated the cavalry.
A lot has changed. She gripped her small purse in her hands. As she walked through the doors of the church. The rows were full and Dorothy could see her farther stood at the front with her uncle. Dorothy walked quickly hoping that they did not notice her. And just her luck they did not. She took a seat next to a large man with a beard. He did seem to mind as she sat down.
She noticed Finn in the corner of her eye looking at her. The two of them were once close. Dorothy would often comfort Finn after he had had a nightmare or when he had been told of for being naughty and he was yelled at. The two of them were friends. Well that was what Dorothy thought until she went a month without a single letter from anyone.
Dorothy looked away from the boys eyes. She also noticed the man next to her starring at her. She felt a soft pink colour paint her cheeks. Dorothy had chosen to sit further away down the church as the family of the groom and bride were sat. She wasn't ready for any awkward confrontations yet.
She turned to look at the man she was seated next to. He was much taller than her self. His face had some scars on it. He seemed rather friendly in his body language. But he hadn't spoken to her. And Dorothy understood. She was a stranger and so was he to her. So she didn't bother to engage in to small talk.
The church looked beautiful and elegant. And her family all looked to be wearing expensive clothes which was very different to what they wore when Dorothy lived with them. She felt out of place. Her dress was cheep and she had bought it in a small boutique in town. She shrunk down in her chair. Now Embarrassed of the way she was dressed.
It felt like they were all going forward and they were just leaving her behind. And she was just like some kind of dead weight. A young man came around with the lyrics of the songs that they would sing in church. The man next to her didn’t accept the paper. But Dorothy smiled taking it from the young man’s hands.
Of course with four years of church every day. Dorothy practically new every word of the songs. But the young boy looked scared from talking to the man next to her. So she thought she should be kind. And it seemed to work. The young boy looked more relieved as he returned the kind smile to Dorothy. And carried on handing the slips of paper to the rest of the people.
As the church choir sang in the bleak midwinter. Everyone sat in silence. And soon Jeremiah Jesus came forward graces side looked disgusted with the fact that their was a man of colour who would marry grace and Tomas. But Jeremiah didn’t let that bother him as he walked forward taking his place at the stand.
And then the music began to play. Dorothy and the rest were all waiting for grace to come down the isle. She looked around at the rest of the family. None of them had noticed her here. And she couldn’t lie she felt really disappointed. She thought that at least one of them would have noticed her being at the bloody wedding.
And then grace came out from behind the door with her farther holding her hand as he was dressed in a cavalry uniform. A dark purple vail was placed over her face so nobody could see her face. All of the women on graces side of the family all fussed over about how lovely she looked. But the Shelby women didn’t look very happy. Dorothy wasn’t really bothered.
Tommy removed the vail off of his future wife’s face. They both smiled at one another. Before they both turned towards Jeremiah Jesus. Waiting for him to marry the couple. Dorothy heard the man at the side of her let out a unhappy grunt. Dorothy turned to look at him. He was also looking at her. Making the young woman blush as she turned back around.
“Dearly beloved, we are all gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony. Tomas Michael Shelby and Grace Helen Burgess. Do you Tomas Michael Shelby, Take Grace Helen Burgess to be your lawfully wedded wife ?” Jeremiah asked her father. And he turned to look at grace. “I do” he said proudly.
“Do You Grace Helen Burges. Solemnly swear to love, honour, and obey till death do you part. ?” Jeremiah now turned to grace and asked her. And she once again smiled and turned to her soon to be husband. “I do” she smiled saying it with the same pride as tommy did. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” And the newly wedded couple brought one an other in for a kiss. Making everyone clap and cheer.
Everyone then made their way out of the church and outside. Dorothy was stood on her own. It was like nobody cared about her. She felt like a fool. As she stood with her purse in her hand. She just wished that she could go home. She watched as the two family’s gathered around for a photo. And heat Dorothy was not in it.
She watched as they all smiled together. Tommy and grace then climbed in to their carriage to drive to their home. She turned to see the man she was sat next to in the church standing besides her. “Who are you then.” His voice was rough and his frame was much larger than hers. But Dorothy sent him a soft sad smile.
“Dorothy but it’s not like anyone remembers” she said sadly looking at the man as she played with the purse in her hands. The man studied her. And he looked at her confused. He clearly didn’t understand her answer but he didn’t bother to question her which she was great full for.
“Ay been there. You need a lift.” He asked when he noticed she hadn’t come with anyone and women were not allowed to drive so she wouldn’t be able to get to Arrow house. Dorothy gave the man a genuine smile. No longer sad.
“If you really don’t mind.” Dorothy said. Her voice was soft. She was sweet. And there weren’t many people like that anymore and Alfie could tell that there was something wrong. And he didn’t want to engage In awkward small talk with his driver. When Alfie just wanted to blow his fucking brains out.
“Ay. Not at all” alfie said walking towards his car with Dorothy following behind him. Finn watched from the steps of the church. He knew he had to tell Tommy. He didn’t trust Alfie and he really didn’t trust Alfie around Dorothy. She didn’t know about the business that Tommy and Alfie had. So she was vulnerable.
Alfie opens the door for Dorothy and gave her his hand helping her inside the car. She sat down on the right side of the car. Tucking her purse in at her side. The driver gave Alfie a questioning look. But Alfie just nodded at him to drive.
“Who are you then. I’ve given you my name.” Dorothy smiled. At Alfie who nodded his head at her words. He was nervous that she would know who he was. And be scared of him. His name was well known. And many people already feared him.
“Alfie, Alfie Solomons” he told her leaning back in his seat in the car. His name sounded familiar. But Dorothy couldn’t exactly put her finger on it so she just left it. And shrugged it off and smiled at him.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you mr Solomons, so what are you doing at my dads wedding?.” Dorothy asked. Not noticing the shocked look on Alfie’s face as the words came out of her mouth. But he tried to keep his cool.
“Me and tommy. We’re business partners. Didn’t know he had a a girl. Thought it was just the little one.” He said as he stared at Dorothy who’s expression suddenly changed. She looked sad. Really sad.
“Yeah, I was sent away. For school in London. I don’t even think he remembers me. I don’t think anyone does.” She said sadly looking down at her hands with a sigh. Now Alfie felt bad. And that was a rare thing. Alfie never felt sorry for people. Not even for himself.
“Maybe that’s a good thing ay. You don’t want to be with them. Bunch a bastards if ya ask me.” Alfie said his voice rough as he placed his top hat on his head. Dorothy giggled at his comment finding him funny as he cheered her up. Maybe this whole wedding wouldn’t be so bad.
“I suppose your right.” She laughed. Alfie watched as she did. The way the dimples on her cheeks became more visible and he got to see her beautiful hazel doe eyes. As the car pulled up to arrow house. Cars were all over the place and Alfie ordered his driver to pull up right at the door. And then to park the car once him and Dorothy were gone.
“Wait there” he told her with his thick London accent as he got out of the car. Dorothy did as he had said and remained in her seat. She was not sure as to why. But she did not bother to question him. Then her door opened and their Alfie stood with his hand out for Dorothy to hold so it was easy for her to exit the car.
The young woman smiled at him taking his hand in to hers. As she jumped down from the car. She thanked him as she strained her dress down. And Alfie’s hand left hers. So she used both of her hands to hold on to her bag. Her and Alfie walked in to the large home.
It was beautiful. This was far from what Dorothy remembered living in. She remembered a small home. With stained walls. And dirty floors. And this. This was amazing. She felt so left out. While she was still learning how to cook and clean. Everyone else was living life to the fullest.
But underneath her and Alfie. There was a meeting. And her name might just come up. Tommy took of his jacket with a cigarette hanging from his lips. As John and Arthur finally appeared on the stairs. Finn was eating whatever he could get his hands in and all of the other peaky boys made their way in to the room.
“Right boys, you’re all here. Today is my fucking wedding day.” Tommy was about to carry on with his speech before John interrupted him. “Yeah and you said. There’d be no bloody uniforms” John told his older brother angrily.
“Nevertheless… nevertheless, John…despite the bad blood, I’ll have none of it in my carpet. Now for graces sake, nothing will go wrong. Those bastards out there are her family. And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids. You do anything…” Tommy said in an angry rage once again before he was once again rudely interrupted.
“Tom?” Isaiah said and tommy turned to look at him his face still angry. “What about snow?” He asked curiously. “Yeah their women are sports I’ll say that…” John laughed bringing Isaiah in to a head lock. Scratching his scalp making the younger boy laugh.
“No. No. No. no cocaine. No cocaine. No sport. No telling fortunes. No racing. No fucking sucking petrol out of their fucking cars. And, you Charlie, stop spinning yarns about me, eh? “ tommy told everyone of the men individually.
“I’m just trying to sell you to them. Tom.” Charlie told his nephew. Finn was wondering when he should tell Tommy about Dorothy and the fact that Alfie was trying to get close to her. He knew that Tommy wouldn’t be happy. But then again Tommy hadn’t seen the girl in four years and no one other than Finn recognised her anyway.
“But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers, desire the provocation from the cavalry. No fighting, Oi! No fighting. No fucking fighting. No fighting. No fucking fighting.!” Tommy shouted at the men as he went and stood next to Arthur until a male maid bumped in to him. Tommy pushed the man to the floor. “Get the fuck off me!” And then Arthur through a glass at him.
“Tom. Dolly’s here. But she’s all different her hair it’s short and she’s well she’s wearing a dress.” Finn said out loud. All of the men turned ti look at him. Clearly shocked that Dorothy was here. Tommy looked the most shocked. He didn’t think she would really come. Especially after he had been a massive dick. He hadn’t written her a single letter. No one had. She spent four years off her life by herself. And now tommy was having to come to terms with all of his guilt.
Tommy didn’t say anything as he left the kitchen and back out to the party in the home. He searched around for a young woman matched the description of what Finn had told him dolly now looked like. But what he saw was not what he wanted.
His daughter sat with Alfie fucking Solomons
#finn shelby#peakyblinders#tommy shelby imagine#peaky blinder imagine#arthur shelby#shelby!reader#alfie solomons imagine#arthur shelby imagine#tommy shelby angst#john shelby imagine#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby smut#michael gray smut#arthur shlby x reader#tommy shelby#tommy shelby x daughter!reader#peaky blinders imagine#finn shelby imagine#peaky blinders smut
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I’m listening to Ultraviolence by Lana Del Ray and I can’t shake the feeling of a fic with Arthur based off this song. I feel like it fits him so well! I can just imagine a toxic relationship between him and the reader where he hits her or harms her in some way (intentional or not) but she keeps going back to him
“He hit me and it felt like a kiss..”
Plssss lmao the way this works so well
No need to do anything with it, just wanted to share because I know you’re a slut for Arthur like I am
“Because I know you’re a slut for Arthur” SIS YOU’RE SO RIIIIIGHT. HE’S MY SOFT KITTEN. 😩
Ultraviolence || Dark!Arthur Shelby x Reader
TW: angst ++, abusive husband, toxic relationship, depiction of domestic violence, alcoholism, if you think this trope have a good ending you should not read it, no proof reading: this is raw, unedited and prolly super badly written??
Words: 1k
Each inch gained by the clock’s needle, your heart raced more as if it feared to be pierced by its the sharp steel. Nibbling on your fingers’ skin compulsively, you sat on the large luggage you prepared one hour ago because you knew that when Arthur came home after midnight, he was not the man you fell in love with anymore. His gruff voice, usually lavishing you with the sweetest pet names he could find, would call you deadly nightshade — because when you looked at him with fear and fury in your oh-so- beautiful but teary eyes, it felt like a caustic poison was running through his veins, burning him from within and dissolving his sanity.
The door opened, your soul wept.
“Oi Y/N, where the fook are ye?” The gravel in his tone, who used to make you shiver with desire, sent shivers of fright down your spine. You took a deep breath, struggling to keep composure: this night would be the last you suffered from his violent love. After months of hesitating, coming back to him almost crawling, you decided that this nightmare had to stop. Somehow, you knew you had to flee from his claws before you ended up dead and cold — either by suicide or by his hands.
He stumbled in the living room, an empty bottom of whisky hanging from his hand. His steel blue eyes, half closed due to the amount of alcool he drank and cocaine he snorted, were looking for you, “Bloody hell Y/N, a good wife always welcome her husband when he comes back home. So be a good fookin’ woman and come greet your ol’ Arthur with the warmth he fucking deserve.” He grunted, before his frightening gaze fell on you.
He looked at you, and you could hear the sirens howling in the back of your head.
“What the hell?” He whispered at the sight of your packed stuff, slowly understanding your intentions, “Are you fucking serious?”
“I can’t do this anymore Arthur,” words left your mouth, falling from your quivering lips, “This is going to kill me… I’m sorry.”
“You wanna leave me?” He asked, bewildered. The sound of the bottle shattering on the wooden floor echoed in the living room, answering to the screams of his own heart breaking. You hated yourself at the idea of hurting him but you could not do it anymore, loving him was really hard. At first your thought it would be enough to save him, to heal his soul and mind, but love was not enough— your love was never enough.
“I’m sorry.” You got up and grabbed your luggage, before making your way to the door. Yet, Arthur firmly grabbed your wrist as you passed by, his grip so sharp it bruised your skin almost instantly.
“You’re not going anywhere, love.”
“Let me go. Please Arthur, if you love me you have to let me go.”
“I said you’re not. Going. Any-fookin-where.” He retorted, his hoarse voice growling with more hatred as anger boiled within him.
“Let me go you fucking bastard!” You bursted out, panic overwhelming your aching soul as you felt his nails digging into your skin.
The horrific sound of the blow that followed made the skies shook with sorrow. Pain stung your cheek, its burning sensation spreading on all the left side of your face. You let out a woeful whimper, tears flowing from your eyes almost instantly. He hit you, and it felt like a kiss, because it was his way of loving you when he was drunk.
“YOU AIN’T LEAVING ME, YOU POISON. I’M ARTHUR FUCKING SHELBY RIGHT?” He barked.
His hand grabbed you a second time — but it was not to make you dance anymore, like he used to do when you were kids.
Pain rain down on you,
With his ultraviolence
Ultraviolence.
“I’m … Im so sorry…” Arthur kept saying over and over again, his hands on both side of his head as he pulled his own hair, devastated with the view of crimson stains on your face.
Panicking, he then grabbed your chin and almost suffocated you with his lips, assaulting your bleeding mouth with desperate kisses, “I’m so sorry Y/N, it won’t happen again. I just don’t know what crossed my mind, it wasn’t me… it was the fucking whisky! The bloody snow! I won’t do it again, I swear doll I will never hurt you anymore… I— I love you… God I love you so much I’ll die without you.”
His blue eyes overflowed with tears of gold, like lemonade.
“Arthur… I —“ Words choked in your throat as you saw him cry. The monster had left, leaving him sobbing like a beaten child. He raised your gaze toward yours when you called him, and you knew he was your gentle Arthur again.
But you could not forgive him again and again.
Could you?
He would be the death of you.
“Please, I’ll do anything for you. Please, Y/N.”
The cacophony of your mind almost made you wince, for your thoughts crashed against your skull in a messy bacchanalia. Run away, you had to run away… so why did your body remained petrified? Why did you gently stroke his hair, looking at him, desperately in love?
It was stronger than you, stronger than reason, you hated to see him cry. You despised the way he was hating himself, genuinely guilty.
But you had to go.
To go.
But you stayed.
Don’t beg, stop telling me you love me. Please.
Please I can’t. It’s never enough.
Give me all of that ultraviolence.
“I love you too, Arthur. I love you forever.” Your voice was merely a whisper as warm blood ran from your nostrils, tainting your lips and dying on your chin. Your fingers gently grazed his neck as you knew he loved — all you wanted was to stop his pain. To see him smile with that stupid, irresistible grin that made you fall for him.
“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” His lips laid a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, the tip of his tongue tasting the blood. His voice was filled with sincere love, “I’ll change. I swear to God I’ll change for you,” Somehow he really believed in what he said, but the truth was he would never change… And you knew it.
“You won’t lose me — maybe you could — help me putting my stuff back where they belong?” You stuttered, your whole body about to collapse in his arms for it just wanted to feel his touch.
“Of course I’ll do.”
Arthur smiled.
You did too.
But Angels cried,
for they knew that he hurt you and it felt like true love.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me honey, know that you can make yourself at home in my ask box, especially when it’s about babyboy Arthur.
I love this Lana’s song so much, and I completely understand the vibes you felt. It would suit so well in a Dark!Arthur fic — in fact I loved it so much I could not help but write a little something for ya! Even though I do feel in-character Arthur would be far too terrified to hurt Reader and would not physically harm . Maybe being rougher, bruising her with his grip without doing it on purpose. But he would not hit her (cf: office scene with Linda in S5). Yet — I decided to go dark with this one because, as you said, “he hit me and it felt like a kiss” is just perfect for this sad trope.
#arthur shelby#arthur Shelby x reader#Peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinder#Peaky blinders x reader#Peaky blinder x reader#Tommy Shelby#John Shelby#Michael gray#Alfie Solomon’s#Arthur Shelby angst#peaky blinder imagine#Peaky blinder angst#request
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Deceiver
Part Three
Tommy Shelby x Reader
CW: slow burn, arguing, slight sexual activity
You've been involved with the Peaky Blinders business for a few years now, undiscovered as a woman posing as a man. Now the Shelby boys have grown suspicious of you and want you found out.
an: set in season one
”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜
previous part
Your interactions with Tommy lessened over the next few weeks and it felt ridiculous to say that you were hurt because nothing had happened but it still saddened you. You wanted nothing more than for Tommy to touch your hand again, have those private talks with him that made you feel closer to anyone than you ever had before. More recently he'd been getting closer to the new barmaid at the Garrison and it gave you a pang in your chest everytime the Shelby boys joked about the two of them getting with one another. But Tommy owed you nothing so you couldn't exactly be angry, you just had to laugh along with the jokes and not put yourself in a situation where the two of you were alone.
One day where you and the boys were in the side room at the Garrison, Grace came in with a bottle of whiskey and a tray of glasses for you all. As she placed them down Tommy was staring up at her and she glanced at him with a smile. You felt your breath get caught in your chest and you had to reach out for the whisky to distract yourself. You poured yourself what looked like a triple and drank it quicker than you expected.
"Jesus, Eddie. What's up with you?" John asked with a laugh.
"It's just good whisky, gotta get it all down just like your dick when you try to fuck anyone." You retorted with a laugh and John playfully pushed you.
"Oh God, Tom the children are fighting!" Arthur exclaimed and Tommy looked down and smiled.
"It's not as if we are arguing any more than we have before," you nodded towards John and he turned up his nose.
"Only because you're a little argumentative shit." John yelled and you laughed. Tommy's expression was unreadable and you just wanted to ask him what was wrong but you couldn't do that and pretend it was normal.
"Whens your meeting with Kimber, Tom?" Arthur asked.
"Today, I thought it would be best if you were surprised by it because fuck me he's going to surprise us." Tommy commented and as if on cue there was a gunshot and someone yelling about the name Shelby.
"I'll be off then," you snickered and John rolled his eyes.
"No, stay in here. Just in case." Tommy said quietly and you sat back down with a puzzled expression. As the brothers walked out you struck a match and lit your cigarette, what was Thomas planning with Kimber that he wanted you to know? You started to read the paper to keep yourself busy for a bit but it wasn't striking you as that interesting. The reading was to distract your brain from straying too much but you couldn't help it. All you could think about was Tommy and the way he looked at you and then the way he looked at Grace. It was so hard to decide which was better or in which instance he seemed more genuine. Could Tommy even consider having feelings towards you that warranted anything more than friendship? You wanted to be something with him, you didn't know what but you knew that seeing him with Grace always upset you more than it should.
"He's gone," Tommy said as he came back into the room on his own. You hadn't realized how long it had been and as you rose to walk out Tommy looked at you with a gaze that made you sit.
"How was it?" You asked.
"Beneficial, I think so anyways. Everyone else has cleared out, just us now." Tommy took out a cigarette.
"Not asking Grace for another drink?" You asked trying not to sound jealous but you didn't think that you hid your feelings very well.
"Grace? Why are you asking about her?" Tommy looked at you quizzically.
"No reason, I just assumed you might not want another whisky," you stumbled over your words and looked down, leaning your hands against the edge of the table you braced yourself to have to speak out of your arse in lies.
"Whiskey is fine." Tommy commented and you nodded.
"Right, I think I should be off." You looked at Tommy and be furrowed his brow.
"Why's that then?"
"I- there's just some things I need to get done and I-"
"That's a lie isn't it?" Tommy asked and your cheeks went slightly pink.
"What is it to you?" You looked down at the table and took your cap off, ruffling your hair you sighed.
"Y/n, you're being childish."
"Don't call me that here. She might hear you." You scolded Tommy and he looked surprised at your outburst.
"Barmaids don't count." Tommy school his head and took a drag.
"Is that your philosophy for your bedroom as well, Thomas?" You asked in a sudden burst of confidence you weren't expecting.
"So now you want to know about my activity in my bedroom?" He raised and eyebrow and you sighed.
"No, Thomas. I don't." You answered with a scowl on your face.
"Yeah, I can tell that from how pissed off you look." Tommy seemed to roll his eyes and your jaw tensed.
"Is there anything you need from me?" You asked, still looking down.
"I want to know why you want to leave this room so badly."
"There's nothing to talk about, I'm wasting my time here when I could do something Tommy." You didn't know why you were so openly angry towards him, he had acted so differently towards you a whole ago and now he was so cold.
"Leave then." Tommy didn't look at you when you stood up to leave, you walked out of there as quickly as you could.
Tommy didn't expect it, he didn't know you could act with such anger directed toward him. He knew he hadn't been around you so much, it was because he couldn't trust himself around you and it was almost ridiculous. Tommy was acting like a teenager in his methods of avoidance and even though he knew it was stupid he couldn't be honest with you because what if you didnt feel toward him the same he did towards you? Tommy had begun this pathetic flirting towards Grace to redirect his sexual and romantic energy so no one would get suspicious but the fact it had made you angry tod him more. Did this mean you were jealous? Did you want more than what you currently were to one another? Tommy couldn't decipher your outburst but fuck, someone who was neutral towards him wouldn't react like that towards him.
You were so angry at yourself, you were so angry at Tommy and you couldn't decide which was a stronger feeling. Either way you were fucking reeling with anger and you needed to get home before you got into a fight. The moment you closed your front door, you leant against it and closed your eyes with a deep sigh. How the fuck had you allowed a Shelby impacted you emotionally? It felt like if Tommy ever called you'd be there without even a thought and what did that say about your willpower or your self worth. Ignoring your problems was a lot easier than addressing them especially considering it didn't seem like Tommy would be addressing them any time soon. Turning toward the hall wall you punched it, out of frustration and anger, you were so fucking pissed off you couldn't control your emotions. After all this work, all this fucking effort toward creating a life and a lifestyle to yourself was going to disintegrate because of a man and you couldn't take it. You swore under your breath and held your hand gently.
You headed upstairs and drew a bath to try and relax yourself from the ridiculous amount of stress coursing through your veins that threatened to burst out at any point. As you lay in the steaming water you tried to breath regularly but it wasn't working and you just got frustrated with yourself because Tommy was making you so fucking angry. You looked at your knuckles that were still slightly bleeding. How dare he have such an impact on you when you weren't anything to each other.
You didn't remember falling asleep or getting into bed but there you were. You'd put on a chemise top under your shirt and boxers to try and normalise it for you. The silk felt so comfortable against your chest, you were so used to bandages and scratchy shirts that having this sort of relief was unfamiliar. Relaxing into the bed you were falling into a deep sleep when you were awoken by a knock at the door. What you weren't expecting was to open your door and find Thomas there.
The moment you opened the door Thomas had pushed you back against the wall and was kissing your neck hurriedly. You moaned into his touch as he ran his hands up and down your body and cupped your breasts. When you sat up in your bed, sweating and wet you really wanted to punch yourself in the face for having such stupid fucking fantasies. You were angry again after having a blissful few hours without it that you almost didn't hear the repeated knocking on your front door. Looking out your window you saw Tommy and cursed under your breath as your stomach felt warm. You ran down the stairs and opened the door with a scowl.
"What do you want?" You asked, not allowing Tommy in when he went to walk past you.
"Really? This again?" Tommy sounded exasperated and you rolled your eyes before letting him in.
"But really, what do you want? It's late, Thomas." You sat down on your sofa and Tommy joined you in the same familiar positions you knew so we'll.
"I wanted to talk to you, just normally about nothing really I-"
"You're seriously telling me that you'd rather be here with me, in the middle of the night shit talking, than have someone warming your bed? You could take anyone and just entertain yourself for the evening if you wanted and it would be more fun than this. I could talk to Grace if you can't muster up the courage." You smirked at him and this time Tommy rolled his eyes.
"So you really want me to fuck Grace is what I'm getting from this conversation?" He looked at you with a 'shit eating' grin.
"You wish I was that obvious."
"Yes I do, woman. You're so bloody confusing most of the time I have no fucking idea what you want." Tommy rubbed his forehead and stood up, he went over to the radio and turned it on where a soft classical piece was playing.
"I'm a lot easier to talk to when you don't pretend like you want to speak to me when really you just want a distraction." You tucked your legs under your body and placed your hands on your lap.
"Well look, I apologise for stopping," he gestured between the two of you as he sat down closer than last time "whatever this is."
"Why did you act like we were getting close and saying you felt comfortable around me and then just not come back again?" You asked, looking down.
"I was worried you'd think I was being too familiar with the way we were speaking or I'd lose your trust." Tommy explained and it rang false to you but you decided to not press him any further.
"Tea?" You asked and he gave you a look "whisky then." You smirked and went to your side cabinet to grab a not so brilliant quality whiskey with two glasses. You filled them up and sat down on the armchair that was in front of Tommy rather than the side and he seemed offended at the change in position. You believed having space between you would be healthier so nothing like last time happened. If you couldn't explore whatever this was between you and Tommy wanted to put a stop to these emotions.
"Cheers to bad communication," Tommy raised his glass and looked at you with an amused expression.
"Cheers to that." You said back, looking back into Tommy's eyes and then quickly looking down when he held your gaze.
Sitting back in the armchair you were diverting your gaze to anywhere away from Tommy because you didn't want to see the impossible to read expression on his face. There was no way Tommy could know how much you cared about him and how much you wanted to feel his touch on your hand again but knew it shouldn't happen again. No, it wouldn't happen again. Tommy was destined for Grace or someone easier to understand. Keeping distance between you was a safety net because if you touched again you didn't know if you could control the feelings you had and you still wanted to have a good friendship with Tommy.
"Come here," Tommy said looking at your face but you wouldn't look up. "Come here." Tommy repeated in a lower tone that made you form goosebumps, he looked down from your chin to your chest as your shirt opened and revealed the chemise underneath. His tone sounded pleading but rough and your stomach tightened at the thought that he might want to kiss you. Why were you reacting like this?
"What is it, Tom?" You asked, still looking down.
"Your hand," he replied and you looked up at him with sad eyes "what happened?" He asked.
"Oh, it's um… it's nothing." You muttered pressing further back into the armchair.
"It is," Tommy suddenly reached forward and held your wrist in a strong grip, it made you drop your glass with a gasp.
"What are you doing?" You exclaimed trying to pull away your arm but Tommy was stronger and you gave up.
"What happened?" He asked holding your fingers out flat with his other hand to look at your knuckles.
"I slipped and- and banged it on the side of the bath." You stuttered over your words and Tommy narrowed his eyes.
"Well I know that isn't true, have you disinfected it?" He asked.
"I don't think so," his touch was making your chest grow warm, rough hands against your calloused ones made you want to hold yourself and smile. Your face looked terrified and Tommy loved the feeling it was enticing in him. He was holding your hand and examining your knuckles for a lot longer than he needed too but to touch you felt so good he didn't want to imagine it would end.
"Where's your vodka?" Tommy asked and you nodded to the cabinet behind the armchair.
As Tommy stood up he let go of your hand and you let out a breath that you felt like you'd been holding in, you closed your eyes for a few seconds and focussed on your breathing. What the fuck was he doing touching you so much? You were already frustrated and you didn't know how to deal with his avoidance of his behaviour.
"What did you do to your hand, y/n?" Tommy asked as he sat down with the vodka and a clean cloth.
"Why do you care so much?" You asked, looking at him with a frown.
"I'm just asking a question, why are you so fucking angry?" He asked, pouring some vodka on the cloth.
"I'm not angry I'm just AH-" Tommy pressed the vodka soaked cloth onto your knuckles "you fucking arsehole, I just don't know what's going on with us okay!" You yelled
"So that's what it is." Tommy raised an eyebrow as he dabbed your knuckles again.
"Don't do that Tommy," you sighed.
"And what would that be?" Tommy asked.
"Pretending that you don't know what's going on with us, like there's this weird fucking energy." You winced slightly.
"What if I also don't know what's going on?" Tommy asked looking deep into your eyes.
"I-..." You paused, getting distracted at the feeling of his hands again "I don't know, Tommy. All I do know is that I can't deal with all of it, nothings going to happen and nothing can happen between us so I don't know how to act."
"You sound very sure." Tommy softened his expression and you sighed.
"But that's the thing, I'm not sure of anything at the moment." You looked down with a sad expression and then saw Tommy's hand move, he touched your cheek. Almost automatically you leaned into his touch but didn't move your eyeline out of fear of what emotion his eyes would display.
"Look at me," Tommy whispered and you looked up "I don't know what we're doing, but being here with you makes the banging on the wall silent."
"What does that mean?" You asked looking deeply into his sky blue eyes that made you melt under his touch.
"When we were in France it was all we would hear, all we would try to hear and now whenever I sleep, or think or talk it's all I can hear until it's only me and you." Tommy sighed.
"But why? I don't do anything special." You answered with a furrowed brow.
"I don't know, I can't explain it but every fucking time I'm here with you or just alone with you I can't think about anything else other than you and…" he trailed off and you couldn't help but let your heart race "and I can't get that feeling any other way, it's like I need you."
"I think about you, a lot more than I would like to admit." Your gaze flicked between the floor and his eyes because you didn't know how he would react and when he removed his hand from your face your stomach dropped. But then he reached forward and you closed your eyes as he kissed your cheek.
"You're special to me, y/n. And I can't quite explain it to you." Tommy said as he held your hand in his and you bit the inside of your cheek.
"You're special to me too, Tommy. But I don't think we can do anything more than this." You said sadly.
"I want to keep talking to you and seeing you even if I want something more I can't lose these interactions with you." Tommy seemed nervous, anxious even and you didn't know how to deal with the fact that you could be having this impact on him.
”*°•.˜”*°•. ˜”*°•. ˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜
next part
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#love#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#john shelby#arthur shelby#ada shelby#michael gray#peaky fucking blinders#peaky blinder headcanon#peaky fookin blinders#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x oc#tommy shelby x you#peaky blinder x you#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagines
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Brotherly
Pairings: Shelby Brothers x reader
Warnings: based on season 5, no canon events, there's no violence in this only bc idk how to write that properly
Request: I would love something with Finn and his brothers like Finn gets hurt and they all get protective ( John still alive ) thank you xx
A/N: ahhh first time writing Peaky Blinders!! this is around 1.4k words
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We weren’t doing anything, just leaned up against a brick wall talking it up. Just Finn, Isaiah, and I. Normal things that we do when we’re not doing shit for Tommy.
That’s when it hit. Brick flying everywhere, dust sticking to our hair and skin. Ours ears ringing. The bright cloudy sky immediately turning dark as my body collapsed.
I look up from the ground where I laid, the building we were leaning against was blown up. My lungs burned as I got up to my hands and knees, my body tingling. I blinked my eyes up at the bright sky.
“Get up! Get up!” I heard muffled.
“Get up!” Isaiah yelled as he pulled me up by my arms, dragging me to the other side of the road.
He sat me down on the floor, holding my shoulders trying to see if I was injured.
"Does anything hurt?" he asked, but my ears were still ringing.
Isaiah did a quick scan of my body, checking my back, my arms, my legs, and more. My mind was running 1000 miles per second, until it wasn't. I had quickly snapped out of it as I was replaying the scene in my mind.
“Where’s Finn?” I was able to say with a coarse throat.
“I-I don’t know.” he looked back at the scene trying to scan the area.
“Did you look for him, Isaiah?” I look up at his face, seeing that he was also covered in stone. He has a gash on his forehead and chin, bleeding down his neck.
“Shit, you’re hurt.” I stood up from the ground, starting to assess his injuries.
“It’s just cuts.” He lowered my hands away from his face. “I don’t know where Finn is.”
Concern was flowing out of him through his tense shoulders and watery eyes.
“Fuck. Okay, go to Tommy. Come back.” I moved past him to look through the rubble as he ran to get Tommy.
“Finn!” I yelled out, standing at the edge of the broken bricks.
I scan the area to see if I can see him. Nothing. Nothing but bricks and wood.
I began to think that he’s dead, wondering what the fuck i’m going to tell the Shelby’s. Started to think about the hell that will be raised if Finn is not found alive.
“There’s a body here!” a elder lady yelled frantically, her weak hands trembled as she began to pull away bricks.
I quickly ran towards her and began pulling the bricks off, revealing a unconscious Finn. His body limp as I couldn’t tell if his chest rose and fell.
“Water! I need water and a towel!”
The lady immediately ran into her home to grab the things I need: water, towels, and vodka. I didn’t even have to ask.
The other civilians watching from afar, gossiping and pointing.
"What the fuck are you all looking at? None of you fucking helped!" I screamed out as I was revealing more and more of his body with each brick taken away.
She handed me the water and towel. I poured the water over him to clean his face, not wanting him to inhale more dust.
I noticed a deep cut on the side of his head, which can even mean brain damage. At this point, I won’t know until he wakes up.
“Where the fuck is he?” I heard a familiar voice yell out into the streets.
“Tommy!” I yelled over my shoulder as I continued to clean up his younger brother.
Tommy, Arthur, and John jogged up towards me with Isaiah following behind.
“Everyone back to your homes!” Arthur advised, everyone obeying quickly.
The streets were quiet with the civilians watching through their windows.
“Fuck, Finn.” Tommy crouched down near me as he rubbed his own face.
"What happened?" Tommy's nose flared.
“I- I don’t know what happened. We didn't do anything." My hands were shaking as I was tending to his younger brother.
Tommy's face was emotionless, it sent more chills around my body. I didn't know what he was thinking about, what he was going to do.
"W- We were just talking a-and then I woke up on the street. Right Isaiah?” I looked up at him as he shared the same hectic look as me.
“You two are fine. Make sure Finn is too.” John spoke up as the two older brothers began to assess the scene.
“Okay, I have to pour Vodka to prevent the wounds from contracting infection.” my face winced at the thought of the feeling.
Isaiah held Finn’s shoulders as I began to pour the alcohol onto the large gash on his head.
A loud and excruciating scream ripped out of Finn’s throat. His body jumping off the ground, legs flying up in the air but thankfully Isaiah held him down.
The brothers quickly ran over from the sound of the scream. Tommy’s face showed how he wanted to calculate and execute this as safely as possible.
“Take him to your house.” Tommy ordered.
“My house?” I yelled out in confusion.
“Your house. Let’s go!” The two other brothers carried Finn to the back of their car with me tending to him while Tommy ordered Isaiah and the others.
The drive was fast, soon enough we were rushing into my family’s kitchen and swiping cups off of our dining table.
“What in God’s name?” my mother yelled as she ran down the stairs from all the ruckus.
“Finn is hurt.” I reassured her.
She immediately grabbed her medical bag from the counter, opening it up to reveal all her tools.
Finn was groaning on the table as she examined his cuts, the adrenaline getting to him.
His eyes blown wide and shaky, his hands trembling.
“You’re in good hands.” I cooed as I cleaned his wounds better for my mother.
“Who did this?” Tommy asked as he leaned against the counter, smoking.
“I don’t know, but I think you guys do.” I looked at him as I crossed my arms.
He silently nodded his head, knowing who he’s pissed off recently.
"The fucking Billy Boys." Arthur mumbled.
"We'll get them for you Finn!" John yelled with a cheer and a smile. "We'll fucking get them!"
Arthur and John is already following behind Tommy as he stormed back into their car, handgun and steering wheel both gripped in his hand.
I didn't know where they were going, but I knew that at least one man was going to die. God knows that it wasn't any of the Shelby boys. Polly made sure God was on her side.
Finn seemed like he was going into shock with the way his jaw clenched and his eyes shaky. I'm holding him down as my mother picks away debris from the open flesh on his head.
"Are you hurt?" My mother whispered as she kept a steady hand.
"I don't think so." I said but got a stern look from her. "No. No, I'm not hurt."
She quickly nodded and went back to tending to Finn.
"You shouldn't h- you shouldn't have been there." Finn was able to speak out through his clenched teeth.
"I'm a Peaky Blinder." I shook my head side to side as I threaded the needle for my mother.
She scoffed from the side. We all knew that's how my father died, being a Blinder. She didn't want me to follow behind him.
"This is going to hurt." she told Finn as she waved the needle in front of his eyes.
I grabbed a kitchen rag and stuffed it between his jaws, hooping that it will muffle his screams.
My mom and I nodded to each other as I held Finns arms down.
The sharp metal pierced his skin over and over, his groans and screams barely muffled by the piece of cloth I lended.
It was quickly over. We splashed some vodka on it and even gave the bottle to Finn so he can nurse it. We bandaged him up and check for any other injuries on him.
Finn rested on the couch, his body tired from the amount of adrenaline that rushed through him.
While my mother and I was cleaning up, the Shelby brothers strutted through our front door.
There the three were, covered in blood but none of them hurt. It truly was a miracle every time.
"He's all patched up." My mother spoke up, eyeing the floor and her furniture to see if they've made any stains.
"Thank you." Tommy reached into his pocket, taking out a large wad of cash and handing it to me.
"Oh no, I cannot accept." I pushed his hand away.
"You put Finn first even when you were in the accident too." he held out the money again.
"For God's sake." My mother walked her way over in front of me. "I accept."
She took the money with a smile and went back to cleaning.
"What'd you all do?" Finn groaned out as he slowly walked from the living room to the kitchen where we all stood.
"Left a little message for Jimmy McCavern." Arthur chuckled out as he held out a bullet to Finn.
Finn was too weak to grab it, so he nodded for me to get it for him. I spun the bullet in my palm, examining each and every crevice.
"McCavern." I whispered out as my thumb slid over the engraving.
"Do I get the shot?" Finns eyes shot up to Tommy.
Tommy silently nodded with the side of his mouth slightly curled up.
"You get to shoot him in between his fucking eyes." John said nonchalantly.
#gxdsfavgals masterlist#cmac</3#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#arthur shelby#john shelby#finn shelby#polly shelby#polly gray#michael gray#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinders fluff#peaky blinders angst
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Thomas Shelby Best Friend XX
Anything. I could handle anything. But this…this, I-I can’t. Why? Why now? I mean, she’s not a saint but neither am I.
She looked inside through the window. She glanced around. Nurses rushing out of one room to another. One or two doctors walking into rooms.
She inhaled and exhaled. She needed answers. She had to get answers.
She walked up to Lucas. “Why didn’t you call me? Why did I have to find out through Jade, huh?” Zoey snapped. She balled up her fists.
“Look at yourself. This is why I didn’t tell you.” Lucas said, pointing at her.
“What happened?” Zoey asked, glancing at her mom. She looked so small and fragile.
“She found out.” Lucas said, gritting his teeth. “Found out about what…me?” Zoey whispered in disbelief. She ran a hand through her long hair.
“Fuck sake.” Zoey said, licking her lips. “How?” She asked Lucas, turning away from their mom and looking at Lucas.
“That nosy neighbor of ours, little Miss Patricia.” Lucas said, glaring as he reminisced
“What..what they told her about, me?“ Zoey hesitantly said, sighing.
“S-she told her about Jade.” Lucas said, bitting his lip.
“As in…” Zoey said, hinting about their relationship.
Lucas nodded, glancing back at his mum.
Zoey frowned. How did she find out? Who told her?
She clenched her jaw and told her twin, “I’ll stay away. Take care of her. Her laying on this hospital bed is loud and clear about what she thinks about what Jade’s and I relationship. Let me know if she wants to see me.”
Her twin watched her. She looked conflicted. Mum needs to accept her. She must. I don’t know how she’ll handle this.
Zoey took one last glance at her mum and felt her anger clash with her sadness. Why must she think like them? Why must she judge me based off who I love? She’s gonna hate me. She’s gonna belittle me, again and again.
Zoey walked out we mums room. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Flashback
Zoey was siting on the couch. Out of nowhere, her mum tells her, “Zoey, don’t become a lesbian. Anyone else can be and live their truth but you. You cannot. You are my daughter and will not be.
Zoey was mine and nodded. Why? Why is it wrong?
Flashback (Zoey’s 14 yrs old)
Zoey glanced at Jade. She looked away. I can’t help but feel. I have to find a way to stop this crush.
Zoey tapped her pencil on the desk. She gritted her teeth. Why is it so hard? Maybe I can just pretend?
Zoey nodded to herself. Yes, ignoring these feelings will be as if they don’t exist.
Zoey sighed. I can’t let her down. I can’t be someone she hate and reject. I don’t think I can handle her hating me.
Flashback (Zoey’s 16 years old)
Zoey accepted she’s different. She leaned that Jade liked her. She happened to overhear a conversation between Jade and her best friend, Sally.
“Shh…you can’t tell Zoey that I like her. I don’t want her to think I’m weird..” She recalled Jade whisper loudly to her friend when she walked into the restroom.
They froze when they saw Zoey. Zoey ignored them. Zoey went into a stall and smiled to herself. Maybe I’m not the only one.
Zoey bitterly laughed once she heard them left. How can I be myself when I know the world and my mum will turn their backs on me or hurt me for being different?
Zoey shook her head. Why should I allow them to push me around? Why should I let society bully me? I’ll hide this from everyone, but not because I fear them but what can happen after?
Zoey clicked her tongue. I’m no lesbian. I simply like a person. I can love a person. There should be no rule to love a person. If both are consenting individuals then love will thrive. Gender should not be an issue.
Zoey got out of the stall. Do I tell my twin? Do I tell the Shelby’s. Ugh.
Zoey inhaled and exhaled
Present
Zoey walked out the hospital. She cleared her throat. She looked around. She felt out of place.
She didn’t know where to go. I can’t to Tommy. I can’t go to John.
Zoey was walking down the street as these thoughts ran in her head. Beep! A car honked beside her. Zoey kept walking, ignoring the honk. Who honks at someone in the middle of the night? Certainly not someone with good intentions?
Zoey rubbed her eyes. She felt stuck. She hated her upbringing. She hated feeling cornered. Why must I hide? Why? Why? Just why? It seems everything that I am causes pain and hurts those around me. Am I in the wrong?
She leaned against a building. What’s another night without sleep? These memories are gonna be the end of me. She pulled out a cigarette and for a moment, contemplated smoking. She shook her head, as memories of the war began to creep in her mind.
You’re okay. You safe. It’s not your fault. She bitterly smiled as she thought about those in her unit who didn’t make it. She angrily crumbled up the cigarette. I don’t deserve to feel at peace.
I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve fought better. I should’ve…ugh. It’s should’ve been me. If only the world was kind to those who are different. If only my mother was less strict and more supportive.
Stay around for more of Thomas Shelby Best Friend
#thomas shelby x reader#john shelby x oc#john shelby#michael gray#john shelby x reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#thomas shelby x oc#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#polly gray#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders x oc#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders x y/n#thomas shelby angst#Thomas Shelby x plus size reader#john shelby x y/n#grace shelby
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Hello To The Void of Tumblr!!!
For the longest time I have been a faceless reader of fan fiction and a lover of words. I created this side blog to forever cherish the writings that many talented people have wrote. For me this is a new era, I was nameless and quite, but with change in the air and filling my lungs; I am updating this blog to have a proper tagging system as well as creating a master list of all of the masterpieces that I personally think should been seen and read. The list will consist of author/title/and it’s overall category (I.e characters from movies/hockey players/actors/musicians and so on). Please bear with me with this process. For now, ravage through the world that has been created and leave a comment to the author!!!
Soon,
Collectionof-words 💖
#fanfic#writing#drew starkey#tommy shelby#mason mount#soccer#harry styles#michael gray#smut#fluff#angst#nolan patrick#actor#harry styles imagine#mason mount one shot
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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.”
#michael gray blurb#michael gray fanfiction#michael gray#michael gray angst#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#peaky blinders angst#michael gray x reader#michael gray x you#thomas shelby fic#the peaky blinders#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby x y/n#thomas shelby#finn shelby#john shelby#arthur shelby
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Thomas Shelby Hogwarts Professor Short Story
masterlist other chapters
Last Chapter: Fucking in Sin
summary: having problems with your essay, you pay a visit to professor shelby’s office
pairing: professor! thomas shelby x fem student! reader
words: 3.2k
sexual content! and this is my first time writing smut so i apologise
You were lounging around in the common room one evening about a month later besides the warming fire, catching up on Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. You were supposed to write an essay on Chameleon Ghouls but you had so many questions and you were the type of person that couldn’t continue their work unless they had all the answers they needed. Penny and Oliver were scattered across the room scribbling away whilst you were dangling your feet off the sofa.
‘Do you know if Chameleon Ghouls have a timeframe of how long they can stay transformed. Or is it like until they feel like it?’ You asked into the room hoping for an answer in return.
‘No idea, but then again, you always ask questions no one would even think about.’ Penny slid down the wall until she was sprawled out on the floor. ‘I hate this.’ She said. ‘Maybe you should go to Shelby? It’s 9 o’clock but maybe he’ll give you an answer.’
‘I’m afraid I might have to.’ You placed your pen between your lips. Pondering hard if you should go.
‘I’ll go ask the Professor.’ You stood up a minute later. ‘Otherwise I’ll never finish your homework.’
‘Have fun.’ You heard Oliver poke fun at me just as you were about to climb through the portrait hole.
Only a few students were in the halls most likely back to their dormitories as the evening came to an end. On your way to the classroom you saw Percy which ruined your mood, but before you could let out a joke you had arrived at the door.
With shaking hands you grabbed the cold, rusty door handle and slowly swung the door open to reveal Professor Shelby sitting at his wooden desk, grading some papers.
‘What can I do for you?’ Professor Shelby flashed you a smile. Good lord in heaven for I have sinned.
You returned the smile, shutting the door and walked to the front of his desk.
‘Sorry, I know it's rather late to ask questions,’ You admitted. ‘But if I don’t have answers to your questions I find it hard to continue with your work, and I’m having that problem with the essay you gave us, Sir.’
‘If you're having trouble, Miss Granger, you can always come to me— I don't bite." He said, smiling. ‘Nevertheless, it is a little late.’ He placed his quill into the wooden desk. ‘However I’ll make an exception tonight. Just this once, after tonight I’d prefer it if you showed up before.’
‘Of course, Sir. I’m sorry.’
He awaited your next words as you stood in front of him, feet rolling up and down.
‘Ehm, in the book I found nothing on the transformation of the Chameleon Ghouls.’ You placed the book you’d brought with you on the table. ‘When they transform, do they stay like that until they want to or is it limited?’ You lifted your head to look at him.
Professor Shelby continued to listen to your questions and helped you get your answers to all of them. It was nice having a teacher that dedicated his time to his student and actually wanted to help. Unlike Professor Snape who couldn’t give a shit less.
‘By the way Miss Granger, I’d advise you to not give me ‘fuck-me’ eyes during class.’ He nodded. ‘It’s a bit of a distraction to everyone else.’
Your eyes felt like they had popped out of your eye sockets. Your grip tightened around your book not knowing what to do. You were about to leave but it felt like someone was playing around with you like a marionette doll.
He looked at you with lust in his eyes, jaw clenched, inches away from you, nostrils picking up the scent of his cologne.
Seconds later the gap was closed. His hands cupped your face as his lips crashed into yours, lips plump and smooth against your own. Shelby’s arms found themselves to your back, pulling you closer than was possible—you wanted to be closer to him.
Your hands had found his hair that you had secretly been dreaming of tugging on since the moment you saw him in Diagon Alley.
You parted your lips, urging him to open his, moaning into his mouth. Dragging his lips against your cheek up to your ear, his hand found your face, his thumb pulling down your bottom lip.
‘And for the eye-fucking, Miss Granger,’
Your eyes found his; chest rising and falling heavily waiting for him to finish his sentence.
‘I’m just as guilty of that.’ Professor Shelby smirked, pulling you in for one more heated kiss before he pulled away. His breath sent shivers down your spine, raising goosebumps on every available patch of skin that was naked to the open.
Suddenly you felt two fingers mark their touch at your ear, tracing down to your chest.Your nipples poked through the light fabric, earning a chuckle.
‘You’ve been wanting this haven’t you,’ Professor Shelby muttered. ‘So so eager for me to touch you.’
Your breathing hitched. You couldn’t believe what was happening.
Was this truly your reality? Was this actually happening? Were you about to sleep with your Professor?
Professor Shelby stood in front of you again, raising his hand to your head, softly caressing your cheeks. ‘God, you’re so beautiful.’ His thumb inched over your lips, softly touching them. His stare was intense. You knew what he wanted. It was as if a hunter was looking at its prey.
You looked up through your eyelashes to catch a glimpse of his face. Looking up, his thumb pulled down your bottom lip. Your hands were clamped to your side, too awkward to move.
He pushed his thumb into your mouth, slightly catching you off guard.
‘Suck.’
Harsh words left his pursed lips.
Parting your lips, you started to suck on his digit like he ordered. Curious to see his reaction, you stared into his eyes, immediately knowing he was enjoying this view.
‘I didn’t know you were such a horny little thing, let alone for me.’ He finally snickered, pulling his finger out.
‘Do you want this?’ He raised an eyebrow at you. ‘I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.’
‘I—I want this.’ You breathed heavily.
Professor Shelby cupped your face and forcefully kissed you again. Your arms found their way to his neck, to make sure you wouldn’t fall from the force he was impacting you with. His arms were around your lower back, pulling you towards his body.
Suddenly he broke the kiss and stared down at you before muttering a cold, ‘Undress.’ And you did;
You pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your bare chest before you took off your jeans and underwear.
‘God, you are so beautiful.’ He stepped towards you, lowering his head to your chest. Shivers went down your spine when Professor Shelby’s tongue made contact with your hard nipple, gently blowing onto it. His tongue glided on the outskirts of your areola. His right hand found its way to your other breast, massaging it thoroughly and pinching your hardened nipple from time to time. You hissed at the pleasure you were receiving, not ever having experienced anything like this. His teeth found their way to your nipple gently nibbling, before playing with it again.
A moan escaped your mouth making him stop. You could feel your cheeks glow red from embarrassment.
‘You like this don’t you?’
You nodded.
‘You like the way I touch you?’
You nodded again, feeling his hand make its way down to your cunt.
‘Can I?’ He asked for approval, not sure if you really wanted this.
‘Yes.’ You breathed out.
His finger went along your slit, earning a twitch from your body, that was very touch deprived. He parted your lips with his index and middle finger and started to explore your already wet pussy.
‘We haven’t even started and you're soaked? Just for me,’ he chuckled. ‘Are you wet for me?’
You closed your eyes and turned to the side, not being able to answer him.
‘Hey…,’ he softly said, turning your head back to him. ‘Answer my question.’
‘Yes.’
‘Yes, what?’
‘Yes, I am wet for you.’
‘That’s it. You’re this wet only for me.’ He pushed his fingers inside of me, making you arch your back.
‘Does this feel good? Do you like your fingers inside of your wet cunt.’ Professor Shelby mumbled into your stomach.
‘Yes, yes it feels s-so good.’ You moaned.
His lips kept him busy at your neck and collar, leaving dark marks. He began to pump his fingers out of you slowly, too slow for your liking. Your hands grasped his wrist, nails digging into his skin, asking for more.
‘Not satisfied darling?’ He cocked at you in a way like never before. But you could only think of the pleasure you were receiving, and whimpered out a no. You barely had time to take another breath before he picked you up, sat you on his desk, and attached his mouth to your aching cunt.
‘Fuck!’ You yelled out, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair. A deep moan escaped his lips, sending vibrations through your body. He added another finger going even faster than his previous pace, curling his fingers, hitting your spot perfectly, making you lose it.
He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, making you cry out in euphoria. With every forceful hit you felt your orgasm draw nearer and nearer. It felt like a knot inside of your stomach was going to explode any second and Professor Shelby noticed this.
Just before you could release your screams, he pulled out his digits and grinned. But before you could argue with him, he re-attached his mouth to your clit and started to swirl his tongue in every direction possible, gathering more moans that left your lips.
This was a feeling you had never experienced before. Your hands were grasping his hair, whilst your toes were crinkling and your back was arched.
‘Please make me cum,’ You whimpered out desperately.
Professor Shelby’s hand shot up and grabbed your neck, forcing you to look at him. He put slightpressure onto your throat. The second he held your jaw you shut up. It wasn’t uncomfortable. You like it.
‘What did you just say to me?’
‘Can you please make me cum.’
‘From the moment you let me touch that wet little cunt of yours, you were mine. My girl. So I get to decide when you cum. Understood?’ He growled.
He was anything but a nice teacher in private. He was like a beast, but you liked this side of him, you couldn’t lie.
You nodded, signaling you understood.
‘Speak up when I ask you a question, darling.’ He got up on his feet and towered over you, dark eyes staring into your soul.
‘Yes Professor, I understand.’
Taking a huge gulp, you watched him take off his pants and jumper. His chest swelled with air as he trailed his finger down to the base of his cock, twitching under his own touch. Your breath hitched, trying to get as much oxygen into your lungs as I you watched him come towards you. His hand stroked over his hardened shaft, collecting a small speck of pre cum.
‘On your knees.’ He commanded, and like a well trained dog you obliged. He grabbed your jaw, thumb gently rubbing over your lips. You were at eye level with his cock and he was bigger than expected.
‘There we go.’
‘Do you want this?’ He asked.
‘Yes’ You answered very quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up.
‘What did I just say?’
‘Yes, Professor, I want your cock.’ You corrected yourself.
Growling, he pushed the head of the shaft past your lips, hitting the back of your throat. Professor Shelby tangled his fingers into your messy hair, eager to push in deeper. You swallowed around his throbbing member, earning a huffed moan.
‘You like that don’t you,’ he thrusted in and out of your aching mouth. ‘You like the feeling of my cock down your throat.’
You nodded, not being able to speak, but he didn’t like your non verbal communication. He pulled out his cock giving you time to breathe.
‘I said, don’t you?’
‘Yes Professor, yes! I love being used for your cock.’ You gasped out for air, before he slid back inside of you.
You pressed your tongue against his shaft trying to satisfy him. Your cunt was throbbing with lust. After dreaming of Professor Shelby for longer than you should have, you were now taking his cock in what felt like every hole.
‘So, so eager for me, aren’t you?’ He groaned.
His hands found their way to your hair, pulling your head back, allowing him further access to your throat. A mixture of tears, saliva and cum were streaming down your face, but he didn’t seem to mind, deep groans continuing to escape his deep-pink lips.
‘Such a nasty whore. Look at you. Pathetic.’ He glanced down, staring into your eyes. ‘You look so good taking your cock. Maybe this will teach you to not give your professor fuck-me-eyes.’
A pool of cum was now dripping below you. You couldn’t help it, you was so turned on. You needed him. Before you could register, your head was yanked up by your hair.
‘Look at me,’
Your eyes shot up and stared into his.
‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ He moaned loudly before releasing into your mouth, slowly pulling his cock out of your aching mouth.
‘Swallow like the good little girl you are.’ Professor Shelby ordered.
You swallowed his load, which tasted bitter and sweet, with a hint of saltiness. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, showing him that you obeyed.
‘What a good little fuck toy you are.’ He smirked at you before ordering you to lay back on the desk.
‘Do you deserve to cum?’ He asked
‘Please Professor, please let me cum.’ You begged him, ‘I need to cum.’
Professor Shelby laughed, tracing his fingers along his cock. ‘And what will you do if I let you cum?’ He snickered, clearly finding the sight of you amusing.
‘Anything!’ You cried out, realising how bad you needed him.
‘So desperate for me.’ He trailed on. ‘Lets see if I can make an excuse.’
He climbed on top of you and moved to your neck where he started placing wet, sloppy kisses below your earlobe. His tongue drew down to your stomach.
You were speechless. Beginning to become annoyed you breathed out, ‘Just make me cum!’
Immediately regretting your words, your eyes shot wide as he stopped and retrieved his head from your stomach.
‘Watch that filthy little mouth of yours or do I have to fuck it again.’ His thumb swiped over your lips, his bright blue eyes coming in closer. Despite him saying all those dirty words they were spoken more softly than someone would think if you retold this story. It felt nice…good.
Thomas’ lips brushed against yours, soft, yet rough, like you were the air he breathed. You could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all your senses. He kissed you long enough that he could inhale your breath, feel the warmth of your skin, and the taste of your chapstick that would linger far after you had gone. His lips were soft like butter and his tongue as wet as the pool that started to grow between your legs.
‘Now tell me, what do you want me to do?’ He pulled away from you, watching your eyes trail to his cock.
‘I want you to fuck me.’, You said, not being able to withstand it anymore. ‘I need you.’
‘Of course you want me to, darling.’ He pumped his shaft faster, groaning.
Professor Shelby brushed the tip of his cock against your opening, teasing you. You wanted to roll your eyes and swear at him, but you couldn’t. Instead you bucked your hips forward, trying to give him a better reach.
He grinned, placing his knee between your legs, before thrusting into your core, making you yelp out.
‘Fuck!’ You shakily whispered. That one thrust was able to stretch out your wet cunt.
Your face was held in his hand, making you look at him again.
‘God.’ He whispered. ‘Your moans are the prettiest sounds I have ever heard.’
You moaned in response. He felt too good.
‘All I can think about in class is you. Everything you do drives me crazy.’ He continued to pump in and out of you, moans muffling into his chest. The room filled with the loud slaps of your bodies colliding. ‘Every second you’re not near me I feel myself craving for you’
You grabbed him bis his face and pulled him in for another kiss.
‘You’re so fucking tight.’ He grunted into your neck, his hot breath raising goosebumps on your skin. ‘It’s like you were made to make your cock. Look at you, taking your cock like the good little girl you are.’
Those words felt like fireworks started exploding inside of you.
‘Come on.’ He slapped against your skin. ‘Come.’
You cried out in ecstasy, as he pulled you into a climax, sending your body over the edge. He kept on thrusting, overstimulating you, until moments later, he reached his high as well, and filled you up with his cum.
Professor Shelby slid his cock out of you and stared down at the sight of you.
Panting, you laid on the desk not being able to move.
‘Such a good girl.’ He said, as he slid two fingers up your throbbing cunt, collecting your juices. ‘Taste yourself.’
As he commanded, you opened your mouth, letting the fingers slide into your mouth, tongue wrapping around his digits, sucking off all your cum.
‘Such a pretty girl.’
He pulled away from your exhausted body and walked around the desk.
There you were, laying on his desk. Broken and bruised, just like he wanted. You would lie if this didn’t make you realise your feelings for the Professor.
He walked back in front of you holding a small wet towel. ‘Can you sit up?’ He asked deep and soft.
You placed your hands beside your lower back and tried to prop yourself up but your body was a little too weak.
Professor Shelby noticed and placed one of his hands behind your back and brought you to the edge of the desk.
He took the towel and started to clean around your mouth, collecting a mixture of cum and blood. You held your breath not knowing how to react and because of the stinging pain he had caused. Professor Shelby brought the fabric down to your chest and cunt, wiping up all the excess liquids. Once he was done he grabbed your clothes off the floor and told you to get dressed.
‘It’s late, Miss Granger.’ He said looking at the clock. ‘Be careful on your way back. It’s past 10.’
You nodded quickly gathering your things and walking towards the exit.
‘Good night, Professor.’
‘Until next time.’ Professor Shelby said nonchalantly.
Next time.
You nodded, giving him one last smile before stepping into the hallway. You thought about the experience you just had with him. Your body was certainly sensing it. The man that eye-fucked you at the store turned out to be your teacher, and fucked you he definitely did.
BONUS SCENCE
‘Now, since I’m no longer your teacher, I feel no guilt whatsoever for you to know that I love you more than I ever loved anyone. And I will always love you.’ Thomas’ hand cupped your face, his eyes reflecting his heart’s desire. ‘We will no longer hide. I want to be seen with you. I want to kiss you whenever I want to. Hold your hand whilst we walk through the streets.’
‘I love you,’ you leaned into his shoulder, your grip on his hand growing tighter. ‘I’ll love you until my last breath.’
‘Good,’ he smiled down at you. ‘Because I don’t plan to stop loving you until I cease to exist.’
#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#tommy shelby imagine#peaky blinder imagine#period drama#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby headcanon#tommy shelby blurb#tommy shelby fluff#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby imagines#michael gray#tommy shelby angst#tommy shelby smut#john shelby#tommy shelby blurbs#arthur shelby#tommy shelby headcanons#tommy shelby x y/n#polly gray#thomas shelby x y/n#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x you#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fluff#thomas shelby smut#thomas shelby angst#peaky blinders x hogwarts#thomas shelby headcanon
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Take Me Home - Part 5
Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader
Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.
AN: Welcome back, friends! We’re gonna start ramping up from here on out.
Word Count: 5K
Tags/Warnings: Angst and tension, a bit of heartbreak, a little Shakespeare, and another small cliffhanger…
❤️ Series Masterlist
Part 5: Not That Simple
“I’m keeping close tabs on Carla and Emily just to be safe,” Beau admitted.
Your face became the picture of concern. But before you could respond, a man approached the table, tall and lean, with a shaggy cut of dark blonde hair. He wore a pair of faded jeans, boots, and a gray Chicago FD t-shirt.
Your face paled, and your mouth parted in surprise.
“Hey there, stranger,” he said with a smile.
“Michael?” you gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Beau’s eyes widened. Michael was younger than him, closer to your age. And cocky too.
“Hey, baby,” Michael said. His smile quirked with charm, but his next words were anything but charming.
“We need to talk,” he said, raising his brows.
“We actually don’t,” you retorted in a firmer voice. Cold even. You straightened in your seat.
Beau saw none of your softness and good humor from earlier. This was a different woman, and he was actually proud of you for standing your ground. Though he realized then that he’d never gotten on your bad side. (He hoped he never did.)
Michael frowned, sighing through his nose. He seemed to expect your reaction, to an extent, but was still disappointed. His gaze slid to Beau.
Seeming to realize his manners were lacking, he reached out his hand.
“Sorry for interrupting. Michael Hadley,” he greeted.
Beau stared at the other man’s hand for a moment. Instead of shaking it, he held all his true thoughts inside and flashed the newcomer an easy grin, as well as the badge on his belt.
“Sheriff Arlen,” he replied, raising a brow. “So you’re Michael.”
Michael met your eyes briefly, then Beau’s again. Michael’s hand lowered back to his side.
“So she’s talked about me,” he said.
Beau’s eyes were sharper when they took the other man in.
“Oh, believe you me, that’s not something to brag about, Mike.”
You had to bite your lip so you wouldn’t smile. Michael’s politeness thinned, but just as his mouth opened to offer a retort, Cassie and Jenny returned with the drinks.
“Hi, there,” Jenny said with civility (sort of), but her blue eyes raked over Michael in an assessing way. She’d clocked your surprise and discomfort from across the room.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to stop the party,” Michael said, making you want to scoff.
Of course you did, you thought.
“I’m Michael, her fiancé,” he tried to introduce himself with an outstretched hand. Jenny also ignored that hand in order to set down the drinks.
It gave you the opportunity to interject with some reality.
“You’re missing an ex in there. As in no longer, and wish we’d never been,” you said. You crossed your arms and met Michael’s annoyed look with your firm one.
He eventually sighed and rested a hand on the back of the booth, behind your seat. You twisted to face him, but you were purposeful in leaning away from him.
Beau had to just watch the scene unfold. He didn’t like the way Michael leaned in, crowding your personal space when you were clearly trying to create distance.
“Can we talk?” Michael asked you. “Please?”
For a moment, you paused with indecision. You didn’t want to make a scene here in the middle of a bar. Not in front of your friends, where half of them were police officers. You didn’t want to stop them from having a good time either.
You met Cassie and Jenny’s eyes, and finally Beau’s. Despite the controlled, almost lazy way he’d handled Michael, you could see he didn’t look happy. You sighed.
“Sorry. Give me a minute,” you said. You got up out of the booth and went with Michael to a somewhat private corner across the restaurant.
Meanwhile, Beau tried not to seem like he was keeping an eye on you two. Cassie and Jenny were too, while sipping on their respective drinks.
“What’s the story there?” Cassie asked.
“Cheating ex,” Beau supplied.
“Great,” Jenny said wryly. Her lips pursed as she met Cassie’s knowing frown. They’d been there before.
Cassie turned to Beau and bumped his shoulder with her own.
“You okay there, Sheriff?” Cassie asked him. Beau flashed her a look that showed he was unsettled.
“I’ve got another one to add to the punch list,” he replied.
“I can’t believe you’d ambush me like this!” you whisper-yelled.
Michael crossed his arms in defense. The two of you ducked a server who was coming in hot with a plate of buffalo chicken wings.
“You came all the way to Montana? For what?” you continued. “I already said everything I had to say to you last year. And at Mary’s funeral. Thanks again for that, asshole.”
“That’s such a lie! You wouldn’t even talk to me at the funeral,” Michael shot back. “And you haven’t been answering my calls, my emails. What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“You’re supposed to respect me,” you snapped. Though you couldn’t help the emotion making your voice shake, just a little. “You’re supposed to respect me, and my choices. That’s what you’re supposed to do. But I don’t why I should expect you to start now."
You started to walk away from him, but he grabbed at your hand. You turned back around and jerked your hand out of his grasp.
“It’s over. It’s been over for months. Damn near a year,” you said. “What do you want?”
He looked down at you through sad eyes under his furrowed brows.
“I never wanted it to be over,” he said quietly.
“Well, you pretty much made that decision for us,” you said, crossing your arms. You didn’t know whether it was to stand firm, or to shield yourself. “And I’m done. Quite frankly, I could live the rest of my life without seeing you again.”
“Come on. You don’t mean that,” he said.
He genuinely looked gutted, which was the confusing part. You shook your head and tried to blink the frustrated tears out of your eyes.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” you said.
“I want to say I’m sorry. And I am, more than you know. I want…I want to ask if you can forgive me,” he all but pleaded. He touched your arms, not quite grasping. For the first time since you’d known him, he seemed desperate. “Look, you know how hard it was for me to come out here and beg like a dog, but here I am…because I still love you.”
You were shocked into silence for a moment, but not out of happiness.
Then, you had to sigh. You held up a hand against his chest, a subtle move at pushing him away.
“I can’t give that to you. Even your apology is hollow. Because what you did…” you said, on a halting breath. “You did it to me for years, Michael. Pretty much from the beginning of our relationship, if it ever was one.”
You shook your head as a tear made its way down your cheek.
“And if you could do that, then you never really loved me,” you said.
Michael’s eyes fell away, to hide the emotion stinging in them.
“So…just go home,” you told him. “Be with Kate if you want. I could really give a shit.”
Once again, Michael held your wrist when you tried to leave, this time more gently. He met you with frustrated blue eyes. Those eyes you used to drown in.
“She’s not you,” he said.
You slipped out of his grip and uttered a laugh devoid of all humor.
“That, you should’ve known from the beginning,” you said.
He was hurt.
And when he was hurt, he tended to cover it up with anger. His jaw began to work with frustration.
“What, so you’re just going to run away? Live in this dusty piece of shit town until you die?” he said, with the derision you’d come to expect from him when he didn’t get what he wanted.
“Go home, Michael,” you repeated. “I’m not going back.”
“Everything okay?” Beau asked, when you finally returned to the table. He didn’t tell you that he, Jenny, and Cassie had been watching on standby, in case Michael tried to press his luck and get more grabby. It had taken everything within Beau to stay in his seat for the past ten minutes.
You gave him a smile and took up the shot of tequila Cassie had brought for you. You downed it and grimaced at the burn.
“I’m good,” you said, with a bit of difficulty. Part of you felt accomplished, that you’d faced Michael and hadn’t let him soften your resolve. Yet there was a big part of you—not so deep down—that felt like utter crap.
“Sorry for the unnecessary drama,” you muttered.
Jenny gave you a more serious look. One that said she had no problem stepping in if she needed to.
“If you ever feel unsafe, just let one of us know,” she said.
“That’s right. If he doesn’t leave it alone, all you need to do is call,” Beau added. Cassie echoed that sentiment with a nod. You met Beau’s gaze, despite the uncertainty inside you.
If you need me, call me, his eyes said.
You nodded then, with a thankful smile.
Beau couldn’t help it. He felt protective of you. It welled up in his chest and simultaneously felt heavy like a stone. And he could admit, if just to himself, that it was in the personal sense.
He tried to remember that his life was complicated right now. Too complicated probably, for all of that…but he cared about you. And he didn’t want to see you hurt.
Out of the corner of his eye, Beau spotted Michael Hadley at the bar. He was drinking a beer with an angry frown, and no good written all over his face.
Carla called Beau in a tizzy yesterday morning.
Not only had Avery bought a gun, but he’d given her some unhinged, quasi- “If I die” speech that had freaked her the hell out.
In searching Avery’s vacant hotel room, Beau found the missing pages of Paige’s journal. Pages that contained a seed phrase passcode to unlock the $15 million crypto account she and Luke had stolen.
If Avery had those pages, then it only confirmed that Avery had made a play for the money in order to save his failing business. He was attempting to break the encrypted code to unlock the account, likely for the shady-ass people Paige stole the money from in the first place.
Naturally, Beau had gone looking to bring the man in for questioning. He’d found Avery at a different, much seedier hotel, being led away by another man who walked and talked like a killer. Beau rightly assumed he was a hitman, gunning for Avery, and quite literally about to take out the trash.
Maybe the people he was working with were tired of waiting on him to unlock the account. Or maybe he’d already done it, and now they’d decided they didn’t need him anymore.
Beau was able to save Avery’s life, shooting the hitman. Then he’d arrested Avery. In return for that save, Avery had been giving Beau the runaround all night, with a side helping of audacity.
“What’s your plan here, man?” Beau asked. He leaned forward in his chair across from Avery’s. A narrow table lied in between them within the small holding cell for questioning.
“New identity? Thailand? Or maybe you’re not into the whole heat thing. Maybe Winnipeg,” Beau posed, with all due sarcasm. “You see, these people don’t forgive. And they don’t forget. And the ones that steal from them rarely die alone, which means you have put Carla, and you’ve put my daughter into danger. Did you even think about that?”
Right about now, Beau himself was beyond forgive and forget. In fact, he was irate. But he held it all down beneath a thin line of professionalism, despite the fire in his eyes.
Avery rested his elbows on the table as well.
“Everything I’ve done has been to protect my family. That’s all you need to know,” he said. “You on the other hand. You’ve made quite the mess, haven’t you? Killing that man put us all in more danger.”
He then leaned back in his chair, as if he held all the cards, and Beau was just a monkey wrench in his plans. It was a good front, but Beau saw right through it all. Avery was bluffing through his ass.
Still, he put on a good show.
“And now I’d very much like to speak to my lawyer,” he said.
It took everything within the sheriff to stop himself from reaching across the table, grabbing the other man by the collar, and yanking him down hard on the table, face-first.
Instead, he got up from his seat, deceptively calm. The only explosion of his rage came when he kicked his chair hard on his way out, making it slide across the room and hit the wall. He yanked the cell door open and closed it firm behind him.
He knew he couldn’t hold Avery, not even on Paige’s journal pages. As Avery had so cleverly pointed out, the money hadn’t been reported stolen (why would criminals drop a dime on themselves?). So Beau would let Avery go, for now. All he could do was wait for the cocky son of a bitch to mess up, even more than he already had.
Beau hated waiting.
But his next step was returning to his office and calling Carla. He asked her to join Emily in staying with him, until this thing with Avery blew over. Likely the people he was working with knew where he lived, knew how to find Carla and Emily.
Carla sounded shaken even on the phone, but she agreed.
“Is Emily at work right now?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’ll tell her,” Carla said, releasing a breath. “I’ll take her to your place again tonight, and I’ll bring an overnight bag for myself.”
“Good,” he said. “Thank you.”
After hanging up, Beau leaned back in his office chair and covered his bearded face with his hands. He rubbed at his tired eyes. What the hell do I do now?
The answer eluded him, especially when a knock sounded against his door, disturbing his thoughts. He sighed.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me,” you answered from behind the door. “I come bearing baked goods.”
Beau’s eyes widened in surprise. He beckoned you to come in, and so you did.
“Working hard, or hardly working?” you teased.
The sight of you was a balm to his frayed mind. Your familiar face, your pretty yellow sundress, the way you’d done your hair. It all managed to kick up his smile at seeing yours. Not to mention the delicious smelling basket you carried on your arm. The top was covered with a red checkered cloth.
“Hey, there. How’re you doin’?” he greeted, trying to hide the brunt of his former frustration and worry behind a more upbeat attitude.
He knew he hadn’t done well enough when your smile began to fall.
“Sorry, did I come at a bad time?” you asked in concern. “Deputy Poppernak told me I could stop in real quick…”
Beau shook his head and waved you in. “It’s all right. Come in, please.”
He stood and walked around his desk to sit on its edge.
“I have a feeling I’m gonna want whatever’s in that basket,” he added, nodding at the whicker you carried. You offered it to him, and your warm hand brushed his on the exchange.
“Just a little something,” you said. “And an apology for making a scene at the bar last night.”
Beau frowned. “You’re not really blaming yourself for that, are you?”
Though he soon brightened, whistling lowly when he found a half dozen chocolate chip muffins under the checkered cloth. A smile grew across his face when it dawned on him. The first thing you offered him when he met you was this very same treat.
He had a feeling your muffins would be even better. (...And he tried not to think about the potential double meaning there.)
“Damn, between you and your aunt Denise, I’m gonna have to start running again,” he quipped. His eyes met yours in amusement. “And between you and me, I freakin’ hate running.”
You chuckled at that. “I’m more of a yoga girl, myself.”
Beau’s brows rose in interest, but again, he tried not to picture you in some tight-ass yoga pants.
“Thank you for this,” he said, instead, waving the basket of muffins. He set it down beside him on the desk. “I definitely needed a pick-me-up today.”
You searched his face and began to frown at what you saw there. He both looked and sounded…tired, down. Not himself.
You drew closer and chanced resting a hand on his arm. “Hey, are you okay?”
Beau glanced down at your hand. He took in a deep breath through his nose before he met your gaze again.
“Yeah, don’t you worry. Everything’s fine,” he said. You gave him a somewhat chiding look.
“Beau, you don’t have to tell me it’s okay when it’s not,” you said.
He considered you ruefully. He should’ve known you were perceptive enough to see right through him. Or maybe he was just a shit actor.
He blew out a breath and nodded. “I asked Carla and Emily to stay with me for the next few days. At least until this investigation of Avery plays out.”
Your patient expression melted into worry. You had a feeling he wouldn’t do that unless things were truly dangerous.
“See, that’s what I didn’t wanna see,” he said, lightly bumping a curled finger under your chin. Despite yourself, you smiled a little. “I just want them where I can see them, is all.”
He was putting on a good front, but you weren’t convinced. And Beau could see that. He nodded at you to change the subject.
“Has Mike tried to contact you?” he asked. It was your turn to let out a sigh.
“Only two calls and eleven texts before lunch, but I’m not answering. He’ll get the hint and go home soon,” you said.
But Beau was perceptive too. He knew you well enough to read your added thoughts as you frowned and looked away. It said, At least, you hope he will.
Beau wanted to reassure you, not just to help make you feel safe, but because his gut churned with both unease and anger at the thought of that guy harassing you.
Beau reached out and gave into the temptation to stroke a thumb across your cheek, earning not just your attention, but your widening eyes.
“Hey. No more worrying, huh?” he said. His voice was quieter, warmer. He gave you a smile, along with an assured look.
“If anything happens—” he started to say, but you actually beat him to it. You held his hand to your cheek, surprising him this time.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve got the sheriff on speed dial,” you said. Your smile was sweet and teasing.
Beau had to smile back. His gaze roamed your face. Then your eyes dipped down to his lips. There was heat between you, prickling across your skin and zipping up his spine. It was an inevitable, raw kind of feeling.
He wanted, more than anything, to lean in those precious few inches and find out what you tasted like… He wanted nothing more than to haul you up on this desk, hands sliding up the skirt of that sundress.
But he held himself back with more self-control than he thought himself capable of. His hand fell away from your cheek. You looked up at him in confusion, and a bit of hurt.
“I’m sorry,” he said, in a lowered voice. “My life is…complicated.”
“And mine’s not?” you countered.
“Not the same,” Beau said. “Trust me. I uh, I’ve got some things in my past that I’m not proud of. Let’s just say you’re better off steering clear.”
“Let’s just say?” you repeated. Your brows drew together in frustration. “Why don’t you just say it? God knows you know everything about my messy life.”
Beau sighed. His gaze fell away from yours.
“It’s not that simple, darlin’,” he said.
He saw your disappointment, tinged with disbelief. As much as he didn’t want to hurt you, he also didn’t really have time to explain things properly to you. The truth was, he didn’t have time for this.
“Look—” he tried, but you cut him off.
“No. It’s fine, I guess,” you said. You looked down at your shoes and muttered, mostly to yourself. “Em was right. You are an old clam.”
“What?” Beau asked in confusion.
You shook your head and withdrew from him.
“Okay, sorry. I just…you know what? I need to go,” you stumbled over your words a bit, and you backed away.
It had Beau feeling at a loss already, not to mention the lance of guilt hitting him between the ribs. He stretched out a hand to you.
“Wait—”
You were too quick for him to stop, however. He watched you leave his office in a hurry, and mentally kicked himself all the while. He sighed and looked over at what you’d left behind—the damn basket of muffins. They smelled heavenly. Torturing him.
Damn it all, he thought, until he played back the reel of what you’d said in his mind.
“Old clam?” he repeated.
Once again, a knock on his office door disturbed his thoughts. Except this time, it was Deputy Poppernak.
He stopped short, seeing the furrowed look of confused, guilty frustration on the sheriff’s face.
“Everything okay, boss?”
“Fine,” Beau said, shaking his head. “What d’you got?”
Poppernak hesitated for a second, but he held up a file that he passed along.
“Here’s everything I could dig up on the guy from the hotel shooting,” he said.
Good, Beau thought. A worthy distraction.
You gave Poppernak a belated wave on your way out. You didn’t want to answer any questions or talk to anyone else. You just wanted to escape to your car, where you covered your face with your hands and tried to breathe through the tears stinging in your eyes.
Once again, you felt stupid. Your heart was racing in the worst of ways.
So you peeled out of the police station and headed home…
Or rather, you almost headed home. When you saw Dewell & Hoyt P.I. coming up on the right side of the road, you turned into the parking lot and went inside to see if your aunt was working.
Cassie wasn’t in, but Denise and Emily were. You greeted them both with warm hugs (and you tried to hide your frustrations from the latter, especially).
“What brought you in, hun?” Denise asked.
“Nothing really. I was just in the area and decided to pop in,” you replied with a shrug. Denise smiled and rubbed your arm.
“Well good. Em’s actually going on a coffee run for us. You want anything?”
“No, no, I’m good,” you said.
“You sure?” said Emily. “I can get you a banana bread or something.”
You smiled and shook your head, touching her arm in thanks. “It’s okay, honey. I just had lunch not too long ago.”
“Okay. Oh hey! Did you ask Dad about being on the podcast?” Emily asked.
You blinked as you went blank for a moment. The last thing you wanted to do right now was see that man (even if your heart called you a liar). You narrowly kept yourself from lying to Emily as well.
“Uh, yeah, we did talk about it. He’s on board with the idea,” you said, trying to give her a smile. Maybe it didn’t reach your eyes, but Emily seemed to buy it. She smiled back in triumph.
“Yes! Okay, this is good. Now I just gotta start thinking of some questions and we’ll set a date to record the first episode,” she said, doing a little fist pump into the air.
You tried to match her enthusiasm, but you knew you were falling short. Denise could see it too. Lucky for you, Emily ran off to get to the nearby bakery, the excitement keeping her face bright all the while.
Denise turned to you knowingly.
“Okay, grab a seat. I’ll make us some tea, and you can tell me what’s got you looking white as a sheet,” she said.
You sighed and sat down in the lounge area—a seating of couches and a chaise. You sat on the couch while Denise took the chaise. And between mugs of jasmine tea, you told her everything that happened at the precinct when you went to visit Beau.
When you were done explaining, Denise looked contemplative and sympathetic. However, you knew there was more to that look.
“Okay. Honey, I know you don’t want to hear this, but he’s in a complex situation right now,” she said. “Between investigating Avery, and how it’s falling back on Carla and Emily—”
“I know. He told me about that,” you said. You were worried about them too. While you didn’t know Carla all that well, your friendship with Emily meant something to you. And not just because you had some…unnamed feelings for her father.
Your bond with Emily had started at that damned camp, and solidified the night of Mary’s murder. “Trauma bonding” was a thing for a reason. But besides that experience, you genuinely enjoyed the girl’s company, hearing her talk about her interests in school, careers she was considering after college, and even helping her explore her creative side. She was young, but she was bright and mature for her age.
You cared about what all this was putting her through…though you finally realized that Emily might not be comfortable with the thought of “you and Beau.”
“I don’t want to upset Emily with all this either,” you admitted. “I don’t even know what she thinks of her dad possibly dating again.”
And something else you hadn’t considered. Could all this shakeup between Avery and Carla, not to mention her and Emily staying at Beau’s place now…
“God. Maybe he wants to get back together with his ex-wife,” you realized, with some small shock.
It wasn’t inconceivable, and it had tears welling up in your eyes for a whole different reason.
"Oh, honey, you don't know that," Denise started to say. You shook your head and set down your tea.
“You know what? I’m just gonna go home,” you said, but Denise tried to keep you with gentle hands on your arms.
“Come on. You don’t have to go,” she said.
You shook your head and eased out of her grasp.
“Sorry. I just…it’s his choice, and if he’s already made it…” you trailed. You didn’t want to even acknowledge that your heart was fracturing. “Well, if that’s the case, then I have to respect that.”
Denise didn’t know what else to say to you. But that was just as well.
“Tell Em I’m sorry, but I had to go,” you said.
Denise protested, but you left Dewell & Hoyt before your tears could fall in earnest.
When you actually got home, you were exhausted. It was a case of emotional stress weighing down your body as you forced yourself up the stairs to your second-floor apartment.
You didn’t bother changing. Instead, you grabbed a familiar book of plays from your desk and dropped yourself onto the couch. You got comfortable with Much Ado About Nothing. You hadn’t finished reading it while at the camp, and you needed to brush up on it if you were going to be mentally prepared for the coming school year.
It felt like a world away, but at least with the characters in Much Ado, you had familiar ground. In the scene you were reading, the main characters, Beatrice and Benedick, were already at each other’s throats:
BENEDICK: What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?
BEATRICE: Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence.
BENEDICK: Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted; and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none.
BEATRICE: A dear happiness to women. They would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.
It was hard to believe that these two were supposed to fall in love. Actually, their later “epiphanies” would lead them to realize that the sniping and the arguments and the misunderstandings between them had been love all along…
But you’d come to realize that there was no “Benedick” for you in real life. Sometimes, the angry sniping wasn’t sexual tension. It was just a man who’d never truly respect you.
And sometimes, the arguments and misunderstandings were just two people in the right place at the wrong time, never quite meant to be.
Thankfully, a knock at your door interrupted your romantic musings.
Releasing a sigh, you set Much Ado on the glass coffee table in front of you. You got up from the couch and went to the front door, where you looked in the peephole. Your lips drew into a frown, but your disbelief had you unlocking the door before you could think better of it.
“Michael?! What are you doing here?” you asked.
He stood there with determination set across his face.
“We really need to talk.”
AN: *Sigh.* This guy just doesn't learn, does he? And I'm not just talking about Michael.
Next Time:
“If you give me one more chance, I promise I won’t mess it up again. I’ll be the man you deserve,” Michael said, taking your hand and uncrossing your arms in the process.
“Believe it or not, I took a week off without pay, just to be here and get a chance to say this to you: I love you. I love you. And I know now that it’s meant to be you.”
You hesitated, and even made the mistake of looking up into his eyes.
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HENRY
~Michael Gray x OC
Chapter 5 : what makes a monster?
Warnings: SA threat, violence, derogatory language, guns, angst
Esther woke with a heavy head this particular morning. She made tea and read the paper as usual. She wore a dress that Tommy gave her. It was an old one of Lizzie's that he had had hemmed as Lizzie was much taller than Esther. Last week Lizzie had given her tips on how to act like a prostitute, but not be suspicious, 'the tips and tricks of the trade' she said. She also taught Esther where to hit a man if she was in trouble.
She walked down the stairs and out of the house. She smiled at the old lady walking her yappy terrier. Today she was going to kill a man. Either by her own gun or by scaring him to death. Same result either way.
She arrived at the office at half past nine. Tommy was not yet there. Polly was trying to convince Esme to get back to work, but Esme was insisting that she needed regular breaks as "growing a baby was no small feet." To which Polly reminded her. "I bore two children while working full time Esme. See my husband worked in the coal trade, so I couldn't afford to sit on my arse while a fancy bookie ran around after me. John is far too soft on you Esme, it won't do you any good when the baby comes."
I walked past and smiled at Polly. She acknowledged me with a nod but didn't fully smile. The edge of her mouth twitched like she was going to but she thought better of it.
Lizzie walked out of Tommy's office. "Tommy said to go and get the name and address from Michael. Basically a guy lost out on a bet and he's not coughing up cause he says it was fixed. He's also threatening to go to the local authorities although what they would do god only knows. Would you like a cup of tea love?" Lizzie smiles.
"I'm ok thank you, I get the feeling I won't be here long enough to drink it." I smirk and make my way to Michael's office.
I knock delicately on the door, three times.
"Come in!" A deep voice commands.
As I open the door I see him sat at his desk pouring over papers with a cigarette hung loosely from his lips. His hair is perfect and so is his suit but there is something messy about him I can't quite put my finger on.
"Tommy said you have the name and address." I stare at him, waiting for eye contact.
He looks up. "Alright, take a seat and I'll find it for you." He gets up out of his chair and goes over to a large filing cabinet. He flicks through files and pulls out a piece of paper. He takes it to his desk. Leaning over it to copy something down. He then holds out a small piece of paper for me to take.
"Thank you." I say monotonously, taking the paper from him and standing up. I turn to leave. Five steps across the room and my handle is on the door.
"Esther!" He calls out to get my attention.
I pause.
"Be safe." There is a softness in his voice that the concern shines through like a lighthouse through the mist.
I walk to Tommy's office. He hands me a revolver, some extra ammo, and a knife. I tuck the knife into my stocking. The revolver I hide in an inside pocket of my over coat, and the ammo I hide in my bra. "Good luck." Tommy smiles. "Don't take any prisoners."
I take a taxi to Mr Brown's place of work in the jewellery quarter. I find the shop he works at and hang around outside. I had been assured by Tommy that he frequently picks up women from street corners and that I would have no trouble in getting him to take me home. Eventually his shift ends. He comes out alone. Perfect. He's taller than I expected. Stocky built. Like he ate too much spinach and drank too much milk as a kid. He notices me, he has icy blue eyes like Jack Frost and small dark eyebrows that sit rather out of place, very low on his large forehead. "Hello, love." He says towering over me in an attempt to intimidate me. "6 shillings." I squeek out quietly. "You got the clap or something?" He says slapping my arse hard with a large rough hand. It makes me jump for a man to be so forward is something I am not accustomed to. I shake my head. "Good girl." His words drip like oil and grease. "Alright then I live just around the corner follow me." By follow he was serious, I trotted along behind him trying to keep up. Eventually we arrived at a small terraced house. He flung open the door, turned to me and pushed me inside. I sit down on a sofa in the front room. As soon as he has locked the door he starts taking off my coat, putting his hands in the pockets. He pulls out the gun and I wince. "Well well well, what is this then? You filthy fucking whore, you were planning to shoot me? Trying to have boundaries eh?-" he gets really close to my face "I'm paying for you, so I can do what I like." He grabs my face and forces me to kiss him. I feel a tear rolling down my face. When he notices he slaps me hard across the face. "Don't fucking cry he screams at me." I freeze. He grabs my chest and feels the ammunition. "Give it to me, his hand is outstretched." I give him the ammo and then reach for the knife.
I hold it to his throat. "Kindly take your hands off me" I didn't realise that he had the revolver in his back pocket. He pulls it out and points it at me. "If I have to fuck you with a gun to your head I will."
(Back at Watery Lane)
"Alright Mrs Canahan I understand I'll send someone over. Just stay inside we'll sort it." Tommy puts the phone down. Mr Brown's neighbour Mrs Canahan was a long standing friend of the Shelby family and had phoned up about a noise disturbance. Instantly Tommy knew something was wrong. He saunters our of the office to the board room where Esme has her feet up on the desk. "JOHN! ARTHUR! COME HERE!" Tommy yells. As if from no where the brothers appear. "Right, I've just gotten of the phone to sweet little Mrs Canahan and she's very worried about a disturbance next door. You see next door to her lives the gentleman that I sent Miss Charlestown to see this morning."
"Alright Tom, we'll go and fuck him up a bit." Arthur looks visibly excited.
"Careful there brother, there's a lot of ammunition in that house that I sent in with Esther, if it's got into the wrong hands you will need some heavy duty equipment." Tommy reaches under the table and slams two machine guns down onto the wood, which makes Esme jump.
Arthur and John march through the jewellery quarter with their guns slung over their shoulders. When they make it to Mr Brown's house they shoot the lock off and kick in the door. I jump at the sound. Mr Brown reaches for my gun and points it at them, cowering away from them he falls on the floor. Both brothers are pointing their machine guns at him at point blank range. I hear footsteps walking over the broken door and between them appears Michael. He has a revolver that he is holding with both hands. He walks past his cousins and towers over Mr Brown. He pushes his gun up to Mr Brown's forehead and pulls the trigger, shooting straight through his head. He gets up and kicks Mr Brown's lifeless body. He walks out, passing his shocked cousins. John walks over to me and helps me up. I collect my things and they take me home.
#michael gray angst#michael gray smut#michael gray#michael gray x reader#tommy shelby#esme lee#john shelby#arthur shelby#polly gray#henry johnson#peaky blinder headcanon#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders
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“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?”
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