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lilahisntsadanymore · 2 years

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The Shelbys find themselves in yet another war with one of other Romani families. Things get even worse when Michael and a girl from the other family mysteriously disappear one day.

The reader pronouns: she/her

Pairing: Michael Gray x reader

Words count: 3.2k

Tw: swearing, mentions of violence, lightly implied sexual intercourse

I see this happening somewhere in season 2 or 3, but it doesn't contain any scenes from the show.

Y/d/n - your dad's name

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Problematic Sweethearts

(gif not mine)

A loud thud of the door sounded through the Shelby betting shop. Tommy walked in angrily, it could be sensed by his steps. He stopped by the table in the middle of the room, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

The rest of the family was very busy that day. Nobody paid attention to Tommy until he furiously hit the wooden surface with his bare fist.

"Fuck!"

John shifted his gaze from the chalkboard he was standing by to his brother. "What have you done this time?"

There were many options. Most things Tommy did brought trouble to the family. But this time it wasn't his fault.

"Not me, the Lovells." Thomas replied. "They stole a horse of mine."

Well, not entirely his fault, but at some point he could have prevented that by either stopping the conflict or not starting it in the first place.

It started when another pub opened nearby The Garrison. The Shelbys were afraid it might steal their clients, so Tommy's idea was to start spreading lies about the other pub to make people not wanna go there.

It worked. And when the owner of the new pub found out about it, he immediately traced it to the Shelbys. In that moment, a war started. Lovells fired back with sabotaging Shelbys' betting business (this one didn't really work, noticing how much work they still had) and then the Shelbys fired back with another 'brilliant' idea and now it was getting more dangerous.

Everyone in Small Heath, or maybe even in the whole Birmingham, knew how important horses were to Tommy Shelby. The Lovells knew that stealing his horse was going to hurt.

"So we're gonna go cut them now, yeah?" John asked, putting his hat on and walking to the door. He was being serious.

"John," Esme spoke, causing her husband to stop in his tracks, "quit being so rash, it could get you killed one day."

Polly would hate to admit that, but in this moment she thought Esme was right. Nothing else needed to be added, although John protested.

"I'm sick of them fucking with us," he gnarled through his teeth, "we have to do something to stop this."

"Cutting them clearly won't help then!"

The small dispute between John and his wife was interrupted by Michael entering the betting shop. He had a grin on his face. Others noticed that there was something dodgy about him lately.

"Morning everyone." Michael's enthusiastic voice said. He didn't sense the tense atmosphere.

Tommy raised an eyebrow. "What's up with you, eh?"

Michael chuckled and shook his head. "What do you mean?" Looking at everyone's faces, he finally noticed something's off. "What's up with you lot?"

"The Lovells stole a horse from Tommy's stable." Polly told him.

The taut atmosphere was ripped to shreds by laughter coming from Finn and Isaiah. At first, they were whispering to each other, but eventually they couldn't keep quiet.

Everyone's eyes were turned to the two youngest peaky blinders. They couldn't understand what's so funny about that situation.

"What're you two laughing at?" Polly asked.

The boys tried to put on straight, serious faces. They gave each other a look, deciding which one should do the explaining.

"It's just amusing," Finn was the one to speak, "how you are all so caught up with that little war between us and the Lovells, while Michael just sneaks out to shag Y/n from time to time."

Now all heads turned to Michael as he shot Finn a death stare. He didn't know anyone knew about his small affair with Y/d/n Lovell's daughter. It was supposed to be a secret, because otherwise some people could get hurt. Some people, including Michael himself.

" Y/n Lovell? Is that true?" Polly asked.

The question was targeted at Michael, but he didn't manage to say anything before Isaiah spoke.

"We're pretty sure he was so jolly when he walked in there, because he had just seen her."

A loud sigh escaped Tommy's mouth. "Michael, you know what our situation currently looks like. Why are you so irresponsible?"

"We started seeing each other before all this happened." Michael defended himself calmly.

"Seeing each other." Polly's quiet scoff sounded in the room as she lit up a cigarette.

"You have to stop it." Tommy continued. "We don't know her intentions, she might want to use you to investigate the whole company."

"We love each other!" Michael's eyes were looking at Thomas furiously, as if he really meant what he had just said.

"Love!" Polly emphasized dramatically. Her free hand found its way to her head to rub the temples.

"Call it whatever you want, Michael, but you're going to tell that girl that it has come to an end. As soon as possible."

"Y/n has no interest in your stupid conflict and neither do I. I won't end things with her."

"We'll make sure you do end it. But this way the ending won't be so pleasant."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"They are so going to regret staring this war," Y/d/n chuckled as he took a sip of whiskey from his glass.

"Are we going to return it someday?" His business partner asked.

Both men were sitting in the Lovells' living room.

"Return? Are you out of your mind, Will? We are not going to return it!"

"Horses are living beings, they have emotions, they get attached to their owners..."

"That doesn't matter! That horse is now ours. It is now mine. Thomas Shelby shouldn't have started this conflict."

Y/n returned back home from a meeting with Michael exactly in time to hear the end of her father's conversation.

"What horse?" She asked. "And what does Thomas Shelby have to do with it?"

"We stole his horse. Silly threats have come to an end, now we're getting serious. If that doesn't help, we'll become handsy with his people," the man pulled out a dagger and started fidgeting with it.

"This is wrong. We came here a few months ago and the Shelbys basically run Birmingham, you should accept that."

"Are you telling me to give up? That would be an embarrassment to our family, Y/n!"

"This whole conflict is an embarrassment! You stole a man's horse to show him what exactly? It's like shooting someone in the back of his head! You were a soldier, should know what dignity is."

"Don't talk to your father about dignity," Will interrupted unnecessarily, "especially when you fraternize with the enemy."

Y/d/n looked at his business partner and then back at his daughter, who had confusion written on her face. She wondered, how and when Will found out.

Nobody was supposed to know. Y/n and Michael were always making sure nobody's following them.

"Fraternize with the enemy?" Y/d/n questioned, his nostrils flaring. "What is he talking about?"

Y/n panicked, she began stuttering and gesturing pointlessly. She wasn't prepared for this. Neither she nor Michael have ever thought of making up a spare, fake explanation in case something like this happened. And the girl wasn't very good at making up lies in seconds.

Noticing how Y/n couldn't find any words, William continued. "She's been seen with Michael Gray, a cousin to the Shelbys, Polly Gray's son."

"Were you spying on me?!" Y/n barked at Will. She never liked him and now she at least had a reason to yell at him.

"So you had been seen with that boy, you're not denying it." Y/d/n said.

"Yes, I'm not denying, because it's true. I love him and he loves me."

"Love? Please, what can you know about love? He is an enemy, you have to stop this!"

"The only thing that should be stopped is your stupid war! I will not be a part of this!"

Y/d/n squeezed his glass so hard that it broke in his hand. "Bloody hell," he cussed, "go to your room and don't even dare talking to me again without changing your mind!"

Y/n ran to her room on the same floor - the ground floor, her footsteps barely audible. It was a great skill of her - walking without making a sound.

The girl sat on her bed until late evening. She didn't cry, it wasn't a good reason to waste tears for. Instead, Y/n was making up a plan. A plan that would let her keep seeing Michael while her father thinks they are done.

Y/n's thoughts were interrupted by an interesting sound. Almost as if someone was knocking on her window. At first, she felt disturbed by the sound. Remembering a few books she read - this was never a good thing.

But Y/n immediately calmed down, when she saw Michael on the other side of the window.

Y/n opened the window. "What are you doing here?" She shouted in a whisper, not hiding her astonishment.

"My family found out about us," Michael informed, "they told me to break up with you."

"I was told the same. I don't wanna break up with you, we have to think of something."

"Come with me," the boy offered his hand to his girlfriend.

Y/n was hesitant. There was a voice at the back of her head saying it's a bad idea. "Where? We have nowhere to go, we have no money."

"I have some money! And a gun. I'm bad at shooting, but I'll figure it out. So, are you going?"

Y/n heard sudden footsteps. Fortunately, it was just someone walking by her door, not entering her room. She looked back at her boyfriend and took his hand, so that he could help her walk out of the window.

It was dark outside, the only source of light were lonely street lamps, many feet away from one another. Although, he lovers were still barely visible, because the light was dim.

"Where are we headed?" Y/n asked, lightly swaying her arm intertwined with Michael's arm by their hands.

"To the train station."

"And then...?"

"To the countryside."

In the morning the couple reached their destination, Michael took his girlfriend to the same village he grew up in. Of course, Y/n had no idea he was taken away from his birth mother as a young kid and Michael didn't feel like mentioning this. He just had to make sure they won't stumble across the family that adopted him.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"Michael is gone," Polly bursted into her nephew's flat, "Tommy, Michael is gone!"

The man had just woken up, it was a very early hour. He didn't expect such sudden visit from his aunt.

"How is he gone?" Tommy asked, his voice even deeper than usual. He decided to lit up a cigarette in the order to wake himself up quicker.

"He wasn't home for the night. It is your fault! First the Lovells stole your horse and now they took my son!" The woman was furious. If it was anyone else than a member of her family, she wouldn't hesitate to cut his throat or put a bullet in his head.

Polly thought they took Michael when he went to tell Y/n this is the end of their relationship. The girl's father could have seen him and hurt him. In the worst case, Michael could be even dead. But Polly didn't want to give up at the beginning. No Shelby would ever do such thing.

And so, a sudden family meeting was called. Every Shelby gathered in The Garrison. Polly told everyone that Michael didn't come home for the night and Tommy proposed a plan. The idea was to locate where Michael could be, if alive, and then just break him out. Maybe they would even manage to get back the stolen horse as well.

Unfortunately (or rather fortunately, because it made them sure Michael is alive), the plan was greatly changed by an unexpected visit. The door of The Garrison opened, revealing Y/d/n Lovell.

"Where is my daughter?!" He yelled, looking around the pub. "How dare you kidnap her?!"

"Oi, no snooping around!" Tommy reminded the man that he can't just walk into a place and start searching it. He wasn't a policeman or anyone of that kind. "Did your daughter disappear?"

"Don't act like you know nothing about this! I know you sent someone to kidnap her. You broke into my house through a window in her room and took her!"

Then it clicked in Tommy's head. It clicked in everyone's heads. Maybe even in Y/d/n's head, but he didn't want it to be true.

"Mr Lovell, I'm afraid it wasn't an abduction," Tommy explained, "our Michael disappeared as well."

"What do you say then, Mr Shelby?" The man knew exactly what his rival meant, but hoped that wouldn't be it.

Arthur stood up. "The lovebirds ran away together."

"Exactly." Tommy agreed. "And we have to work together if we want to see them again in this lifetime."

"Don't be so dramatic, Tommy," Finn chimed in with a chuckle, "how far could they go?"

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Not so far, at least for now. It was the beginning of summer, so as long as the weather wasn't that bad for England, the lovers wanted to stay on the countryside. They would think of another place in the future.

For now, there wasn't a single worry in their minds. There in the countryside they could be themselves and do whatever they wanted.

Michael spotted a small barn he recognized. It had been abandoned for a few years before Tommy came to him and nothing seemed to change. It was a perfect temporary home.

On the day they arrived here, they decided to be lazy. There weren't any urgent things to take care of. In the evening they lit up a small fire nearby the barn and sat down by it.

"Do you really think it was a good idea to set up a fire by a wooden building?" Y/n asked, leaning her head on Michael's shoulder.

"I took all precautions," the boy assured, "I made more bonfires than you can imagine and none ended badly."

Y/n chuckled. "I see, you're an expert."

The couple sat by the fire in a comfortable silence, they didn't wanna talk for a while. Y/n straightened out her legs and as she did that, Michael's hand quickly found its way to her thigh.

Y/n felt goosebumps forming on her skin despite the heat the fire was producing. She turned her head a bit in the other to place her lips on Michael's neck. Y/n started pecking his skin, moving up to his jaw, then along the jawline to eventually end up connecting his lips with hers in a kiss.

Without breaking the kiss, Michael ran his hands to Y/n's waist and helped her straddle him. Then he felt his girlfriend's hands creep up his neck to eventually dive in his short hair, pulling it lightly. That small movement was enough to make him release a throaty moan.

Y/n pulled away for a moment. "Do you wanna take it inside?"

The couple walked into the barn and then up to the hayloft. There was still some hay left, which made them feel more comfortable, more cosy. It was a good replacement for a bed.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"Michael!"

"Y/n!"

"I'll check the barn, you search the surroundings!"

Y/n slowly opened her eyes, the shouting outside woke her up. She was lying down, her head on Michael's naked chest that was calmly moving up and down as he still slept. That lad was a heavy sleeper.

The girl sat up and stretched her arms. Then, she quietly walked to the hole in the barn's wooden wall that was supposed to be a window. Looking outside, she noticed Thomas Shelby walking their direction.

"Michael," Y/n whispered, lightly shaking her boyfriend to wake him up, "Michael, wake up. They have come for us."

"What? Who?" Michael asked confusedly, his mind only half awake.

"Well, I saw Tommy, but-"

"Tommy? What the hell is he doing here?"

"Looking for us. We have to-"

The girl suddenly stopped talking and put a finger up in a sign for Michael to stay quiet as well.

One of Tommy's first ideas was to search for to runaways in the countryside. After all, that's where Michael grew up, he knew this place well and felt safe there. Too safe, that's why he could have wanted to hide here.

When Tommy noticed the freshly extinguished bonfire nearby the abandoned barn, he figured they might be hiding there.

In the silence, Y/n and Michael heard the ladder that led to the hayloft creaking. The girl mindlessly grabbed the gun that Michael mentioned on the previous day. Or a day before that.

"What the fuck are you gonna do with that?" The boy asked, trying to rip the gun form his girlfriend's hand. "Don't shoot him!"

"Relax, I'm just gonna scare him off!"

"I don't think Tommy Shelby is a person you could scare with a gun," he paused, "I don't think he is a person to get scared in general."

"Good day, lovebirds." Tommy said sarcastically, his head peaking into the hayloft.

Y/n set down the gun.

"Hello, Tommy." Michael replied, putting his shirt on.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"Your mother is worried sick, Michael. You've had your fun, it's time to go back home. Y/n, your father is here. He's been worried as well."

"Tommy, we're not coming back."

"Sure, come down and we'll talk about this," he stepped down the ladder.

The couple looked at each other. Whether they wanted it or not, they had to come down, Tommy didn't give them a choice. But they knew he will try anything to talk them into coming home and even breaking up. That meant they had to fight.

When the lovers got down from the hayloft, they saw four men in front of them - Y/d/n and three out of four Shelby brothers.

Y/n had guilt displayed on her face, while Michael didn't show a single emotion. He looked each man in the eyes, stopping on his girlfriend's father.

"We are not sorry," the boy spoke, "we love each other and won't let your stupid conflict ruin what we have."

"How dare you-" the oldest man reached to his gun.

"At ease, Mr Lovell, at ease," Tommy stopped him, then turned to the boy. "Michael, care to explain? Or Y/n?"

It was a rhetorical question, Tommy wasn't asking. He gave an order. And he expected the order to be done.

"What else do you expect us to say?" Y/n snapped. "We're in love and that's it. Have you ever been in love, Thomas? Have any of you ever been in love? If yes, you would have known it's not a choice. It's a feeling you can't control or get rid of."

Then Tommy understood it. His mind wandered to the time he met Grace, to the time he started falling for her. Y/n was damn right, love is a feeling that cannot be controlled, predicted or prevented.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I think she might be right."

Y/n crossed her arms on her torso and sent a triumphant look to her father. "Nothing can do us apart. Just think about it, our relationship is a great reason to stop this war. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet, but without anyone dying!"

"We can't forget about our past that easily," the father looked spitefully at Tommy.

"Not forget, but forgive."

"Let bygones be bygones." Michael added, taking Y/n's hand in his.

They were right. It was the time to end the ridiculous conflict. Maybe Y/n and Michael's relationship could even give a beginning to an alliance between the Lovells and the Shelbys.

#Michael Gray #Michael Gray x reader #Michael Gray x y/n #Michael Gray imagine #Michael Gray one shot #Michael Gray fanfic #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #Peaky Blinders one shot #Peaky Blinders Netflix #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Finn Cole

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eviegray · 2 years

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nod yes and carefully follow his instructions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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rysko · 4 months

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Peaky Blinders Request Rules/Information

Hiya! I'm opening requests because i feel like it's a cool opportunity to write between my main stories, as well as interact with the fandom more!(Yall are the coolest i swear) Feel free to send an ask with your request if the following rules are okay by you <3

This is also my first time in years that i've done this so bear with me xD

Characters: When it comes to PB, i don't have any no/no's when it comes to writing characters. No matter how niche the character, my brain-rotten ass will analyse them to pieces and try my best to write them. Though, if you know me in any way, i'm especially brainrotten about: Luca Changretta, Alfie Solomons, Tommy Shelby and Arthur Shelby, so requests with them will probably be written faster!

Relationships: Character x readers are fine, and i'm comfortable writing for any gender. Character x Character is cool as well, if the ship has a dynamic, i'll try my best!

Dark fics: YES! I love them.

Smut: I'm not very good at smut imho, so for now, it'll be a no from me, sorry!

HC's/ '[blank] with [blank] would include' type fics: YES!!!

AU's?: I love au's, if you want me to write one, give me as much info as you want, or just give me an au idea and i'll try my best :>

I feel like i covered the most important things, if i missed anything, let me know and i'll answer/add to this post. If i won't be able to fulfill a request, i'll be sure to let you know.

See ya in the AskBox!

#Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #Peaky Blinders x y/n #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Arthur Shelby fanfic #Luca Changretta fanfic #John Shelby fanfic #Alfie Solomons fanfic #Michael Gray fanfic #Polly Gray fanfic #Ada Shelby fanfic #Lizzie Stark fanfic #fic requests

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

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Michael Gray x Milf!Reader ~ Headcanon

Note: Too long ago @sonichkkaaascreams snowed into my inbox with the idea of the Shelby!boys x Milf and I do still have an idea for a multi!part series in the back of my mind, I didn't want to keep her waiting so I will publish both this and one for John, Tommy and Arthur. This is my first time writing for Michael!

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes. Here is my Masterlist

Warning: As I am an adult, all my writing I share is unless explicitly stated for adults (18/21+). Expect canon confirming tone, language and depiction of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Request: @sonichkkaaascreams

Wordcount: 530

Tommy had known you forever and trusted you to fill the position in Boston Ada had vacated upon her return to England

He offers good pay and perhaps a change of tapestry will do you good and so you take your boy and move across the sea.

There is a nice house with a cook and maids, and a beautiful garden, with flowers and trees and gardeners to keep it all in line, and a shiny new car, with drivers to take you wherever you want, just waiting for you - provided by Tommy Shelby

At first, life in Boston is terribly exciting, both for you and your son, but no matter what, you miss home a little

So does Tommy’s young cousin Michael who had been sent over too, to watch over this side of the Shelby Company’s business

He is younger than you and ought to find the whole city and the high society girls in it just ripe for the picking, but you can’t miss his unhappiness, nor how he, instead of nursing a hangover, prefers to sit at your dining room table for sunday breakfasts with you and your son

Or how he would rather take him (and you) to a baseball game than to go dancing in the city

You don’t mind - he is a decent young man and is good with your son

Once, when you felt like he had been wasting his time at your house instead of going out and enjoying his youth, he confessed that he used to have a brother and that he missed it, missed playing football in the garden until his trousers were green and dirty, missed having someone to motivate for all sorts of mischief, missed having someone look up to him

The three of you take lots of trips around America during the holidays to see the country, from the east coast to the west, from the Niagara Falls to the painted facades of New Orleans, the Rocky Mountains or the silver screes in Hollywood

You weren’t born yesterday and so you soon noticed his lingering eyes that were followed by lingering touches on your back or on your arm, nor the way his legs would brush against yours, or how he’d pull you in for dances

At first you are incredibly reluctant, because he is so young, and because you fell like it shouldn’t last. He is just lonely in America, and perhaps you were too

And yet, he was handsome and charming and witty and he made you feel so…glamorous

And consequences, whatever they may be, were far away in England

Why should you two not enjoy yourselves?

So that was exactly what you did, all over the shiny house Tommy had bought you, all throughout the young, wild country Tommy had sent you both to

He had spent the night before the crash in your arms so you were right there when he was called home

You thought that meant that whatever you had was over, after all, it was just a bit of fun, right?

But only when it was time for him to leave, did you realise that Michael had no intention of stopping your affair, in fact- he had nothing but the opposite on his mind and all of the sudden all those possible consequences you thought far away and out of reach became very real indeed

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

Taglist

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy

@books-livre @chlorrox @quarterpastmidnight

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders headcanon #michael gray #michael gray headcanon #michael gray x reader #michael gray imagine #valentineswritings #valentinesheadcanons #michael gray fanfic

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blueeyedheizer · 1 year

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✯ L'ADIEU

pairing: Michael Gray x Reader

summary: You attend Michael's funeral

content warning: death, angst, spoiler for season 6 of peaky blinders.

a/n: i'm currently getting rid of some of my drafts and in the process of touching up some unfinished fics to post them.

You stand still in front of the rising flames, silent as you stare blankly into the fire.

Your sobs have now subsided to simple tears, a seemingly endless supply of them spilling down your cheeks as the image of Michael's death repeats over and over again in your head.

The brutality of it.

The sound of your own scream as you fell to your knees and cradled his head, begging for him to 'wake up, stay with me'.

How Tommy walked away from the scene without a glance back.

Michael's lifeless body in your arms, his blood soaking your hands.

The deafening silence surrounding you is only broken by the sound of fire sparks consuming the wood, which pulls you out of your thoughts and reminds you of the equally painful present moment.

Michael is gone, and there's nothing you can do about it.

You let your gaze wander to the ground, your expression unchanging. The pain seems to have momentarily numbed your senses. The only thing you fail to control is your tears; they fall freely and you let them dry in the wind.

No one has bothered to show up. Not Ada, not Finn, not even Isaiah who was once a close friend of his. It's just you and your aching soul mourning your late husband — and you can't help but wonder if Polly's spirit is here as well, looking out for you.

"I'll find him, Michael." you swallow back a sob, choking up again. "I'll find the Devil and i'll make him pay. I'll put a bullet through his skull like it was meant to be."

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders spoilers #peaky blinders season 6 #michael gray x reader #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray fanfic

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peakyblinders1919 · 1 year

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Remember

This was as close to a ball as you were ever going to get. Fancy beaded gowns, men in tuxedos smoking French cigars, fountains of champagne flowing like water, romantic orchestra music and something electric in the air.

Not sure when you were separated from each other, Michael was glowing under the chandelier, his smile wide but fake as he discussed pleasantries with worthy adversaries. He sipped his whiskey, nodded his head, and only truly smiled when he caught your eye. His eyes, emerald green, radiant as the forests of the earth, locked onto yours, and he was offering a less-than-sorry apology to his company, and sauntering to your rescue across the marble dance floor. Checkered black and white like a chess board, he was the knight, the king, dancing effortlessly around other guests holding priceless champagne flutes, to return to your side.

When he invited you to Arrow House, not as a friend, not as a date to show off to his mother, but as the only girl he wanted on his arm to show off, his prized jewel, he waited anxiously for your answer. He kept repeating how he knew it was a lot to ask, warned you how it was all going to end up feeling like one big show of announcing your relationship, you had listened and then you had countered with “do you want me to come or are you only trying to further steer me away? Because it isn’t going to work.”

The way he did smile when he was with you, like now after he was comfortably by your side, was full of freedom, relief, a contagiousness that possess the magic to ease the tense in your shoulders, his jaw. That smile of his was rare, kept locked up only for you and special occasions, and you were more than honored to be the one to guard it. Keep it safe.

He snuck his arm around your bedazzled waist, pretending to play with the dangling beads of your dress to the normal eye, but the way his fingertips pressed patterns into your side suggested he had other motived for his actions.

The company you found yourself around- some young girls who knew nothing of the business world, merely here as things to flaunt by the powerful men who had actually been invited- oohed and ahed at the two of you.

You’d blush if you could.

You’d blush if you cared.

Finishing the last sip of liquid gold, delicate gloved fingers placed the empty glass on a waiter’s moving tray, your hand finding safe purchase on Michael’s chest. You noticed the girls’ wandering eyes as said gloved hand dipped just beneath the expensive suit jacket, as close as you’d dare get to the skin on skin contact you desperately craved. But let them look.

He greeted you properly then with a kiss, chaste, soft, swift.

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt ladies, but I need to steal this beautiful lady for a moment. If you will…” Michael was scarily good at apologies.

He swept you off your feet, leading you out to empty hallway of the house, 5 degrees cooler and providing a break from the opulent madness in the ballroom. Away from prying eyes, save for the maids, you found yourself pushing him against the smart wood paneled walls giving him the type of kiss you had wanted him to give you inside; needy, hot, one to savor, licking the taste of expensive cigarette smoke from his lips, earth whiskey mingling with a hint of confetti and bubbles. He kissed you back all the same, hands becoming greedy as they pushed and palmed at the curve of your hip, pulling you flush against him and still needing a handful more. Somehow, even across the room mid-conversation, he knew you needed this.

Breaking the kiss, you locked your arms behind his back to steady yourself as you looked into his eyes. Pupils blown, lounge darting to lick the traces of you off his lips, he couldn’t hold your stare long, eyes darting back down to inspect the very lips he wanted another taste of.

Like a well-choreographed dance, he leaned forward and you leaned back, only to be met by his puppy dog stare.

“Don’t give me that look. As much as I want to Michael, don’t start what you can’t finish. I just want to have a lie down, my feet are killing me.”

That was met with a chuckle, solidifying what he already knew the second he had seen you bathed in gold, more beautiful then he’d ever seen you, the apples of your cheeks a rosy pink from alcohol, eyelids heavy, gaze starry, wandering around the room in search of something. In search of him.

“Let’s get those heels off then.” He had proven to you already that, though he should, he didn’t much care about what was proper and what was not, the country boy in him shining through at moments like this when he was disguised in a tailored suit kissing you nastily up against a wall and bending down to unbuckle your shoes and carry them by the straps on your journey down the carpeted hall. So plush under your bare feet, hand in hand, you skipped around the halls of the house, Michael checking behind every other door in search of your room for the night. The farther he searched, the more tired you became, Champagne sitting different than gin or whiskey, leaving your chest warm, cheeks hot to the touch, the rest of you weightless, floating on air, except for your eyes, which you struggled to keep open.

“Here we are.” He announced much today your relief, nearly being dragged into the dark room. There was no time to admire the wealth of the room before you found yourself lying on the plus mattress, the soft feather down bed beneath you all that mattered.

Your eyes closed for just a second, an overwhelming feeling of relief washing over you, providing you a little more energy to lean up on your arms when feeling the dip of the bed. In the silence, you selfishly took the time to watch Michael beside you. Study him and the cut of his hair, the form of his side profile, the long hook of his nose, the way his back tensed beneath the jacket, the curves of his body a roadmap of your entire world.

“Let me help.” It wasn’t a question so you didn’t bother waiting for an answer, crawling over to undo his tie and drape it on the headboard. His cufflinks were next, the buttons of his shirt, the shirt itself. Under eyelashes kissing his cheeks he watched you silently. Under other circumstances, there might have been something hot and needy about this interaction, but you were too tired and he was too in awe of how determined you were, how beautiful you looked in rhinestone and sequins in the light dancing over. All for him.

He caught your wrists in his as they creeped lower. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, bringing his green hand to your cheek. His thumb grazed over the Apple do your cheek, still warm from Champagne. He traced everything line of your face, thumb pad brushing over your eyebrows, your cheek, down your nose, your bottom lip. You pouted, more than tired, near exhaustion, and needy for his love. You leaned in, a kiss thy was needy in another way, needy for fluid warmth, his reassurance, his soul.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

“You’re a natural.”

“At what?”

“Fitting into this lifestyle and finding your place in it.”

“My place in it is by your side.”

And they’re you were, Hans resting on his leg and moving a bit more towards his length, taught and aching against his pants. Leaning to kiss him again, convincing yourself the electricity of the kiss caused your eyes to close but the champagne was unaccounted for.

Micheal stopped your hand again, ignoring the tired pout on your lips. His fingers found the strap of your dress, causing your back with an unexpected yelp at the coldness of them.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. Undressing you quickly, you kissed his fingers to warm them, slowly coming to find his motive getting you out of your gown was to get you under the covers.

You fit into his side like a puzzle piece that had been missing forever and belonged there. He could read your mind, from the moment ok the dance floor where he rescued you until now, pulling your back flush to his front, strong protective arms wound around your waist. He kissed the crown of your head and held your secrets in the dark.

“I know you wanted to… I…” you yawned, moving further into his embrace and the warmth or offered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. My family is draining. I didn’t want to spend another minute down there away from you.”

“Don’t go soft on me now Michael Gray.” He heard the smile in your voice as strongly as you felt his.

Silence fell around you both like a blanket, oblivious to the party continuing downstairs. You had never been to party like this, and still it wasn’t the expensive drinks or the dance you shared with the man you were falling in love with that you would remember; it was the last hour of the night when it was just you and him against the world, the way you curled around each other, and the way he tried to make it sound like he was upset when he told you “your feet are ice-cold” but he really wasn’t, he couldn’t care less.

happy thanksgiving to those in the States and anyone who celebrates! more than thankful for all of you

#the peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders writing #michael gray headcanon #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray x oc #michael gray imagines #michael gray fanfic

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toms-cherry-trees · 2 years

Text

A Piece Of Me || Michael Gray Flashback

Summary: Not every search ends in a gain

Word Count: 2062

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

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

Let me know if you wanna be in my taglist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The real deal came later on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the splash.

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

But like all highs, afterwards came the drop.

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

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

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

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

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

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mrs-shelbysolomons · 2 years

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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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cigarettes-can-solve-everything · 2 years

Text

'Paper Rings'

Type of fiction: Michael Gray One Shot

Couple: Michael Gray x reader

Summary: After attending a boring party you and Michael decided to have some fun by playing a card game.

Warning: A little NSFW! 🤤

"What a boring party." Michael said and took his jacket of.

"You call that a party?" You asked. "There is only vegetables and champange. Almost an opera is more excited than that." You threw your heels randomly away. That was always the first thing you did. Heels was always a part you wanted to erase from the world. Wouldn't it be nice to walk on barefoot? So your foot wouldn't sweet at all.

It took you a minute to find Michael in a couch and you joined him with lying on the other side of the couch and your feet on his lap. So he could do his daily message on your feet. "When you gonna stop giving me those stinky feet to me?" He slowly squeezed your feet with his thump.

"Well I handle you with your cigarettes smell why you can't do this?"

"I bet they can race with that most stinkest cheese in the world." He said. "So you can win once in a time." And laughed. You punched him with your feet.

"I win always it's you that cheating the whole time. Like that card game before." Your eyes speaked out of revenge.

He bowed a bit closer to you "I was the best one in math in whole school. Don't forget it." Oh he didn't need to remind that. You was always jealous of the medallion he had. 1st in math. Congratulate our classmate for being the winner of 1st in math.

"That doesn't even make sense Mister. In card game it's luck what counts." You was happy to make some point but even on that he destroyed this moment.

"I know I just wanted you to remind my won in which you was the last of the class if I'm not remember me wrong."

On that you punched him again. "I will win and you will be sorry for it."

"Okay than let's make it more interesting. Each rount the winner decide what clothes the loser should take off. Is that a deal?"

"Hmm so you are excited to go naked infront of me? Deal." He grinned on what you said. Ofcourse you had that intention to...

Michael and you took your places at the table and began to shuffle the cards. You hoped that you would win and so it did. In the first rount Michael lost and you could decide it. "The shirt." You said. He obeyed you and slowly took the buttons off. Your eyes followed his hands till he said "So the little witch is excited to see me naked uh." You was so focused on his fingers that you didn't notice his looks on you.

"Can that be faster please. I have a rount to win."

"Impatience..." He said and took his shirt of. You bited your under lip. It was not your first time you saw his torso but it felt like you are in his spell each time. "Lets the second one begin."

Your winst wasn't for that long. He won and you lost. So he will make a decision which was your dress. You stood up infront of him and took your dress off. The fabric slowly left your skin as if you were about to be a model for some potraits. It made you blush a bit and his eyes were travelling your body. You both began to feel hot and you decide to go out the limits which was taking your bra off. "We didn't play a round." He said staring on your naked breasts.

"We don't have to." You took your seet on his lap. "Game over."

"Right. Time to play some other games." He started to play with your nipples. You felt already the wettness trough your pussy. You wispered "Lets begin." And a kiss started your new game.

#michael gray #finn cole #peaky blinders #peaky blinders season 6 #fyp2022 #peaky blinders spoilers #michael gray fanfic #michael gray x y/n #michael gray x reader #so hot 🔥🔥🔥

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hb-writes · 1 year

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Michael Gray & Clara Shelby

✵ The Council: 1923. The boy’s reaction to fifteen-year-old Clara Shelby being friends with the Watery Lane boys.

✵ Thank you. You didn’t have to do that: 1924. Michael helps his little cousin out when she gets caught trying to sneak out of her sister’s London house.

✵ America Looks Good on You: 1926. Clara makes a drunken confession to her cousin and he offers a sober reminder that he’ll always be there for her.

✵ A Little Something: Series 6 AU. Clara Shelby has forgiven her cousin for A LOT over the years, but she cannot forgive him for deciding to grow a literal monstrosity on his face.

✵ LITTLE LADY BLINDER MASTERLIST ✵

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray #michael gray fanfic #clara shelby #little lady blinder #shelby sister #shelby!sister #michael & clara

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zablife · 1 year

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Weathering the Storm

Bonnie x pregnant wife reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————————————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

———————————————

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

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

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

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

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michaelgraysmustache · 2 years

Text

“Haunted Thoughts and Promises” - Michael Gray Blurb

WORD COUNT : <1k

SUMMARY : A look into Michael’s mind during his time in prison and the months after. Missing his mum, feeling regret about Charlotte, and how he wants things to be different.

A/N : Michael changes a lot throughout the duration of the show and we hardly ever get to know what he’s thinking.

WARNINGS : dark themes

Trapped in between concrete walls, alone with his thoughts, Michael Gray had nothing but time to think about all of the wrongs he had done. The what-ifs and echoes of missed opportunities were his constant companions. His only companions really. The guards wouldn’t talk to him. He had been kept alone in a cell and only on rare occasions let out onto the yard. Even then, he was kept away from his cousins. He hadn’t seen John or Arthur since they were all taken in.

One promise he made to himself was that when he got out of this, if he got out of this, he would write a letter to Charlotte. Maybe he could even see again, but he doubted that possibility. She was to be married to another, she was engaged when they met. Charlotte and Michael were never meant to be more than a passing fling. He wasn’t sure if he loved her, it was too soon to tell. Was romantic love even something he was searching out? The Peaky Blinders always had terrible luck in that department, so he figured he might as well avoid it if he could. When Charlotte told Michael that she was pregnant, he knew that he didn’t want to marry her but she shouldn't have gotten an abortion alone. He would have stayed with her that night if Charlie hadn’t been taken.

Michael replayed how different his life would have been if someone else chased after Charlie and Father Hughes and he stayed with Charlotte. Would Finn or Tommy be behind bars instead of him? Maybe Charlotte would have kept the baby and they’d be married right now. Maybe he’d be able to visit his Mum and make sure she was okay. Maybe he’d be able to help Tom get everyone out of prison instead of lying in a dead man’s bed waiting for the guards to take him to the gallows.

One day, sooner than expected, the guards came for all the incarcerated members of the Shelby family. Michael can still feel the three sets of hands on him, the way the fingers curled around his decayed muscles digging in, looking for bone. He fought them every step of the way, trying to shake free of their grasp. But it was no use, he was brought to the gallows, stood next to his cousins, and the rope was slipped around all their necks.

This was it, this was end.

But it wasn’t.

Tommy had gotten the order to free them. The rope was removed but the fear you experience at the moment before death forever marked their souls. Branded them with an unshakable terror. Arthur and John and been to war, they knew this feeling well. But Polly and Michael were a different story. Neither of them slept at night, they just wandered the house like ghosts trying to go about their old routine but the new owners have moved everything around. They bumped into walls and got lost staring at nothing. They were strangers in their own home.

It was on one of these nights that Michael sat down to finally write that letter.

Dear Charlotte,

I hope many things for you. That this letter finds you well and that you are happy in your marriage. Happy with your quiet life in London. And if you have children, I hope that they are in good health.

I would have written or even called sooner but I have spent the last few months in prison for murder. For the man, I murdered the night of your procedure. That was the first time I ever killed and blood seeped so deep into my skin that it touched my soul. I am now no longer any different from my cousins. When we first met you said that I looked different from the others, I don’t think that is true anymore.

You should not have been alone that night. I should have stayed with you, and held your hand for the whole procedure. Things between you and me were never supposed to get serious, but I still cared for your deeply. I hope that you never think of me or Birmingham. I hope that your heart has forgotten me.

Best Wishes,

Michael Gray

There was so more that he wanted to say to her. He wanted to tell her everything, he wanted to have someone that he could tell everything. But that wasn’t fair to Charlotte, the girl who was never really his. She had a chance to go on and live a normal life, he couldn’t pull her back into all of this.

Michael mailed the letter and promised himself that he would do better. He would take over the family company and do things his way. He would study under Tommy and learn to succeed where he failed.

#michael gray fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray #michael gray fic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #michael gray imagine #michael gray blurb #* my fics

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 2 years

Text

Modern AU w/ Michael Gray (a concept)

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

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

Fabric seller/Market boy!Michael Gray

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, before his part of the stall.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she walks off, leaving you two absolutely gobsmacked.

Queue awkward silence!

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Michael, Michael Gray.”

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

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

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

And all those to come.

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

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

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toxic-libra · 1 year

Text

plvto (m.g, eng)

status: ongoing (updated 14/07/23)

sinopse:

The passion for jewels has always been present in her life. Getting the job at the renowned jewellery PLVTO was the same as being designated heroine by the gods. With the company’s anniversary contest approaching, everything was going exceptionally well… Until she lost the ring her late grandmother gave her as a gift when she was born. Seeking solace, she designed a collection for the dispute, which caught the attention of the board… Especially of PLVTO’s heir, Michael Gray.

At Olympus, though, he was known as Hades, God of the Underworld.

chapters: 1-9

|| cover by @poetyeeun

p.s: english is not my first language, so ya’ll already know... any mistakes, lmk!

#michael gray #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray fanfic #michael gray scenarios #peaky blinders #today's his 1 year death anniversary and i'm still not over it :/#miss him </3

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horanghaechan · 2 years

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LOVER (M.G) - Chapter 19

pairing: Michael Gray x original female character chapter: 19 pov: written in 3rd person genre: ‘rivals to lovers’, romance, mature content/smut, fluffy? warnings: mature content/smut in this chapter. S3 spoilers, non canon stuff. main character is BRAZILIAN therefore, there are references to 1920’s brazil. keep in mind that the world at that time wasn't like the world we live nowadays, so there are offensive behaviours along the story. read at your own risk. english is not my first language, so any mistakes please tell me <3 disclaimer: this is the english translation of my portuguese fic ‘Lover’, based on Taylor Swift songs and Peaky Blinders S1-S3. This is PURE fanfiction.

London, England, 1924

When Michael opened the door to Ada’s house, he was surprised to see Polly leaving. Naturally, he questioned what his mother was doing there; Marie, noticing that the woman did not wish to talk about that matter, rushed to her rescue.

“Oh, Pol! Did you bring the dress, then? I was terrified of not having a proper outfit for tomorrow.” Wrapping her arm around her future mother-in-law, Marie dragged her outside and winked. “I imagine you gave it to Ana, right?”

“Sure.” Polly looked half confused, half grateful. “Goodbye, dear.”

“See ya, Pol. Thanks again and sorry to bother you on your weekend!”

“No problem.” She waved. “Goodbye, Michael.”

“Leave him to me.” Marie whispered as she hugged her. “We’ll talk later.”

And with fake calmness, she returned to Michael’s side.

“Are you telling me that she came here just to bring you a dress?” His green eyes flashed in disbelief. “From Birmingham, on a Saturday night?!”

“I didn’t say any of that.” Marie deliberately walked fast, starting to climb the stairs. It was easier to lie without being face to face.

“That’s what it looked like.” He followed her. “Why are you running away?”

“Running away, Michael? At this point?!” Entering her room, Marie started to get rid of her shoes. “Come on, help me with these buttons.” Indicating the back of her dress, she got his full attention.

“Where is Anna? I don’t trust myself to help you...”

“I didn’t send for her. Come on.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “Fast, Michael! I’m desperate to take a shower! I spent the whole day in this outfit.”

“I feel obliged to ask,” He stopped behind her. “are you the type to change your whole personality just because we’re getting married?”

“The fact that you considered this is offensive, you know?” Marie held back a laugh. She couldn’t say she was acting weird just to distract him from Polly’s sudden appearance. “If you don’t open my dress now, I swear I’ll get in the bathtub with it.”

“As always, your wish is my command, milady.” Michael muttered with derision.

“‘Currently’, you mean. ‘Always’ is too conceited even for you...”

“I think we already had this conversation.” He started to unbutton the piece. “And in light of your future as ‘Mrs. Gray’, I suppose I must warn you that only few things will be denied no matter how much you beg me.”

“For example?” She tried not to shiver at his proximity, but it was useless.

“Walking alone, being actively involved with the Blinders and having private meetings with men… Specifically Hughes or Lord Nicholas.”

“What about Stanford?”

“As absurd as it sounds, I trust him way more than I trust Tumblewood.”

“Scoundrels’ Code, I suspect.”

“Mm-hm.” He nodded, attention fixing at the patch of smooth skin that was revealed as he set those buttons free. “You know what else is in that Code?”

“I have no idea.” She felt her dress loose.

“That if a lady wants a bath, a bath she’ll have.”

Surprising her, he pushed the fabric down, leaving her only in undergarments.

“Michael!”

“What? Giving up already?”

“Of course not!” She turned around, her cheeks rosy from what she was going to say next. “I just think it’s bad that you’re still dressed... I was hoping you’d join me.”

“We can work this out.” Excitedly, he got rid of his suit coat.

“Oh, wait! That’s my favourite part.” Marie pushed his hand away, absorbing how gorgeous he looked in his vest, shirt and silver armbands.

And he’d be her husband.

That hypnotic, charming, complex man would be hers.

Finally!

After devouring him with her eyes, she proceeded to undress him too.

There was something very intimate about sharing a bathroom with him, Marie concluded. It had, of course, the sexual aspect; however, it was weirdly romantic. It was noticeable in the soft gleam of his eyes, in the way he moved around the room – gentler, less imposing –, as if he was trying to calm her down. The bathtub was soon filled with hot water and their undergarments removed.

The logistics of two people taking a bath together weren’t that comfortable, but it’d have to do. Before she could even try sink up to her torso, Michael stopped her.

“That’s my favourite part.” He imitated her, placing a kiss on her delicate shoulder.

Closing her eyes, Marie enjoyed the caress, which ended in her jaw. Besides his sinful mouth, skilful fingers brought her closer, flattering every inch of exposed skin. He touched one breast, circling the areola and pinching the nipple; Marie shivered, biting her lip to keep herself from moaning loud.

“Careful with my hair,” She begged hoarsely. “It cannot get wet.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hard to dry... It’s late and I don’t want to wait.”

“I see.” Gathering the strands in a ponytail, he reached for the ribbon that was next to her hair care products. “How do you usually tie it?”

She decided it was best to do it herself, knowing he would do a terrible job and end up getting everything wet, nonetheless. Sitting on his lap, Marie watched the water overflow out of the tub and fall to the floor with a soft clatter.

“Whatever I had in mind concerning bathing with you, I clearly ignored the restricted space we’d have to deal with.” She teased, her cheeks heating up in contrast.

“It’s not as uncomfortable as it looks.” Michael chuckled, adoring that now with her hair up it was possible to see the necklace he had given her. “However, if it’s any consolation, I’ve never bathed with anyone before.”

“Really?” Marie was confused.

“You’d be surprised how little romanticism inhabited my body before you.”

“So, this is a romantic act?!” She mocked.

“Isn’t it?! We’re naked, glued to each other and there’s nothing sexual about it. It can only be romantic, don’t you think?” His voice also contained mirth.

“Nothing sexual about this!” Marie laughed.

“If you had some naughty idea in mind, Your Grace,” Michael resumed to touching her breasts again, teasing her nipple. “it’s best to forget about it.”

“How unfortunate! And here I thought I’d marry a rake...”

“Well, if these are milady’s expectations…” The sentence ended with a kiss on the back of her neck, while his hand slipped to the junction of her legs.

Feeling him through the water was a bit wicked and rather fun. Marie moaned as the tip of his finger touched her clit, her head immediately falling back in pleasure.

“The hair, milady, we gotta be careful with the hair.”

Fucking hair, she cursed mentally.

“I’m not finding this practical at all. Won’t the water ruin…” Marie caught her breath as his index reached her entrance. Oh, the horrible man he was!

“We’re about to find out.” Michael smirked. To spice up the moment, he confessed some of what happened during the days they were apart. “I’ve thought about this for so long… Thought about touching you again, hearing your soft moans and the way you look at me as if I’m giving you the greatest gift of the world.”

“Perhaps you are, milord.” She grunted, feeling his finger opening space inside her.

“How romantic, love.” Michael’s grin enlarged. “Thinking about you made me hard… So, I had no option but to touch myself. Did you touch yourself too?”

Marie flushed at his inquiry.

“I did.”

“Good girl.” Rewarding her honesty, he entered her fully. “Do you want to know which specific thought tormented me the most?”

“I don’t think... I can’t think right now, Michael.”

“Let me help you then. Remember when we kissed at Arrow House? That day after you’ve accepted me back.” His mouth was close to her ear, his husky voice and thick accent making her a little bit insane. “When you rode my thigh?” Marie squeaked, enough answer to his question. “It was so mind-blowing I almost lost control. My mind just kept bringing me back to when you came, cheeks flushed, eyes shining and hips hot against my trousers… If I was a bit more impulsive, I’d come right then and there.”

Marie remembered that afternoon clearly.

How could she not?! When he gave her first ‘accompanied’ orgasm!

“I just couldn’t stop thinking about how snug you’d feel around me, how you’d fit me perfectly and…” At his words, Marie couldn’t help but clench around him. “Oh, well, that was wicked.” He smirked. “Did you think about it too?”

“Of course I did.” Marie was beyond herself with his teasing. What purpose would it serve to lie?! The faster they got through that, the faster he’d properly pleasure her.

“So sincere.” Michael kissed her nape again. “Do you want me inside you now?”

“You’re already here.”

“My cock, love. Do you want it?”

Something about that sentence made Marie shiver. Was it the nickname? Was it the explicit word? Was it the light tone he used combined with the undeniable sexual tension?

“Oh God, Michael.” She groaned.

“All you have to do is ask.”

“Please!” She begged. “Please, milord. Please!”

Water splashed onto the floor as he turned her so they could face each other. With one smooth movement, Michael thrusted into her, feeling her warmth and holding his breath. Marie’s eyes flew open, the honey-coloured spheres fixed on him as if they could decipher all his secrets… And maybe, if he wasn’t careful, they really could. He stared back, feeling his heart tighten at the way Marie’s nails pinched his shoulder blades and her expression seemed half unsure, half lustful; that perfect mix that she was.

“What do I do now?”

“You ride me like you did with my thigh.”

It was pretty intuitive, she discovered soon after. The first roll of her hips, her body understood that it would have a pleasant result if it continued like that, so it did. Michael’s hand gripped her butt to help her find a rhythm, kneading her flesh and making moans escape against her will. His mouth found her left breast and he licked her nipple, tongue swirling around the bud before biting into it slightly.

Tugging at his hair, Marie felt the damp strands slip through her fingers just like her control did. With each thrust, she felt closer to that wonderful place every girl deserved to know. Then he looked up, resting his forehead on hers and helping her pick up the pace. Giving that the tub was quite small for two people, they were really close, and it felt a lot more intimate than it would’ve been on a bed. Michael whispered wicked nothings against her mouth, pecking it every so often and doing his best not to close his eyes. He slipped a hand between them, finding her clit and pressing it in a circular motion. She clenched around him, stomach dropping and heart racing at the immeasurable pleasure.

“Let go, love. I got you.” Michael bit her lower lip, hip finding hers in hunger.

Maria Clara felt her body tremble, more water splashing out, and she exploded.

The way her pussy tightened around Michael’s cock was enough to bring a man to his knees. He loved that instead of throwing her head back, Marie pressed her forehead against his and hugged him desperately, as if he was the only thing that could keep her steady during a storm. Bewitched by the intensity of her climax, he felt his vision blur.

Remaining controlled after such a passionate display was hard… And Michael had neither the patience nor the desire to do so. By helping her through her orgasm, he ended up finding his, spilling inside her while his mind ran wild and his heart gave up.

They both panted, wet skin against wet skin still burning, but strangely soothing. A few minutes later, Marie was the first to move, her tired legs lifting her up and then nearly falling over as she flopped against the edge of the tub.

“Maybe we should change the water?!” Her voice carried a note of amusement.

“We should.” Michael agreed and proceeded with the task.

After it was half-full, they went back inside, Marie sitting between his legs.

“The thing you did with your mouth…” She commented, sounding totally spent.

“Talking, you mean?” He chuckled.

“Gypsy witchcraft, that’s what I mean.” She referred to dirty talk.

Who would’ve thought that a few sentences could drive her insane like that?!

“Ah… Did you like it?”

“Quite a lot. Please refrain from doing it in public or I might faint.”

“Looks interesting.” Michael jested.

“You’re a rake,” She shook her head, leaning on his shoulder and biting back a satisfied smile. “a lost cause.”

“I thought we had it settled from day one.” He laughed.

Michael tightened his grip on her, the two of them falling into a comfortable silence and enjoying the new hot water… With lust taken care of, they could have a proper bath.

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Birmingham, England, 1924

Many things changed from one week to the next one: Maria Clara’s family had been officially notified of Michael’s proposal, as had the Shelbys. The Lees threw a gypsy engagement party for the two of them, which went off without much trouble – except for Polly trying to talk her out of it, Arthur getting into a fight, and a moment when Tommy pulled Michael and John aside, having a serious conversation with them without letting other people get close. Finally, in that Wednesday afternoon, they received first-hand information that the Grace Shelby Institute was ready to open.

“We need an event.” Tommy put out his cigarette as soon as Marie entered his office.

“Sure.” She nodded. “A brunch, perhaps? Not as early as breakfast and not as late as luncheon. Or an afternoon tea, if you prefer... But I think brunch is more gay and youthful, and we’re talking about children, aren’t we?”

“Tea?” Michael raised an eyebrow, almost in disbelief. “You can’t drink alcohol at an afternoon tea, love. How are we going to celebrate without alcohol?”

“It’s possible to drink at an afternoon tea, Michael.” She looked at him, bored.

“I’ll leave that to you, Marie; you’re remarkably the most skilled one in social affairs and is sure to make the right decision.” Tommy ran a hand over his face wearily. “Your family should arrive next week or so, but I don’t think we should wait that long.” He looked at her. “Can you put a party together for the weekend?”

“Of course.” Marie gave a small smile. She would be very happy if her parents could attend the opening, but she understood Tommy’s point of view. Business didn’t wait, and those kids needed a more… Comfortable home as soon as possible. “Can I borrow Polly and Lizzie? I think Ada would also be of great help.”

“Take whoever you want.” Tommy agreed, attention shifting to Michael. “Except your fiancé, I’ll need him around here.”

“Oh... All right.” She tried not to shiver.

What were the two of them hiding?

“Then set up the event and tell me later about your decisions. You have carte blanche to do anything... Just don’t invite anyone from Russia or Jews, alright?”

She found the order a little peculiar but refrained from commenting. First secrets with Michael, now this… Tommy was up to no good, however, it was better to remain ignorant to his plans.

“Alright.” With a curtsy, she was about to leave when she remembered an important topic. “And what do I do with the Hughes? Should I invite him?”

“Leave him to me.” Her boss said in tired tone.

“Ok. Can I go or do you need me for anything else?”

“You can go. Talk to Lizzie and Polly, call Ada, I don’t know. Do whatever you want!”

“It’s a good thing you don’t have any daughters, Tommy. That’s a very dangerous phrase for us.” Marie joked, walking towards the door and missing the small grin he flashed.

“I consider you a quasi-daughter.” Tommy said, and it was the last thing she heard before closing the door.

“Wouldn’t ‘sister’ be the best option?” Michael looked at him.

“I have no idea.” Tommy crossed his arms. “Now that we’re alone...”

Michael felt goosebumps even before his cousin updated him on their plan against Hughes. Since Tommy hadn’t said anything about the parallel problem with the Russians and the nature of the deals he’d done with the priest, he didn’t feel the need to comment on it, but stressed that his main goal was to kill Hughes after the Institute was open, and make it look like a massive accident... Or nearly so. A suicide, perhaps. If they were very inspired, they could even blame some smaller gang and say things got out of hand...

In any case, there was only one possible ending: Hughes dead.

“Tommy,” Michael took a deep breath after listening to the older man’s instructions. “What if something goes wrong? How will my mother and Marie be?”

“I’ll take care of both, obviously.”

“Yes, I know. But what if Hughes goes after them?”

“He wouldn’t be crazy to get on the bad side of the Ton.”

“But when Marie marries me, she won’t be part of it anymore...”

“Marie was never part of the Ton in her own country, and yet the English chose to see her as one of them. I doubt your marriage will change anything.”

“Weirdly, you’re more optimistic than I.” In his cousin’s presence, he could freely lit a cigarette. He no longer smoked around Maria Clara, and since they now spent a lot of time together, he seldomly ended up smoking.

“I have nothing else to lose, Michael. You do.” Tommy shrugged, a vestige of grief hovering over his face. “Shooting is going well, I hope?!”

“It is. And boxing.”

“So do not fret.”

“I’m trying not to.” He blew out the smoke, trying hard not to let his mind be consumed by insecurity and pessimism. If he kept fuelling his worries, he’d ruin everything.

And Michael couldn’t afford that.

Meeting with Polly and Lizzie, Maria Clara started preparing for the event. Consulting her friends’ opinions, she decided on afternoon tea. Although brunch was jovial and gay for quick celebrations, it was an American ‘invention’ and more conservative Brits might be offended by the choice – it was better no memories of the former colony in the defeated Metropolis. As for the guests, the main sponsors would be invited with honours, and Marie would just give a tiny update to the selection made by Grace on her last dinner.

“Instead of this, we should be planning your wedding!” Lizzie scoffed, crossing her arms like Charlie would do after a tantrum.

“Mama would die if I let her out of the whole planning, Lizzie. Soon she’ll be here and you’ll wish she’d never came.” Marie joked.

“Oh, the matchmaking moms…” The comment came from Polly, who was relaxed against the chair, sipping her whiskey. “I don’t think it has downed in me that you’ll officially become my daughter.” In-law, but who cares?!

Maria Clara smiled, noticing that Polly, little by little, was being more open about their new future. She claimed not to understand how Marie had forgiven Michael, not after all the bullshit he’d done, and she also felt that with a suitor like Lord Nicholas, Marie was making the biggest mistake of her life.

“I will and I am very grateful for this.” She affirmed, taking Polly’s hand in hers. “Besides, you already were my official mother since I came to England.”

“Oh, she knows how to flatter!” Lizzie chuckled.

“I just pray that Michael understands how lucky he is to have you by his side.”

“He sure knows, Pol.” Lizzie comforted her.

“Can we go back to the Institute?” Marie was embarrassed. “I thought we better finish the list today, so that guests from other cities can be notified in advance. Tommy would like it to take place over the weekend, so I think Sunday is the safest option. The last party of the Season is only next Tuesday, so we still have a lot of people in London. As for the menu, maybe we could just...”

“Seriously, Marie, you are so focused!” Lizzie interrupted her again. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather discuss your wedding menu?”

“I want to finish this planning soon so I can visit Apollo, to be honest!” It’s not that she didn’t care about that, but... At the moment there were more urgent things.

“Leave the girl alone, Lizzie.” Polly shook her head. “Let’s focus too.”

“Thanks, Pol.” Marie smiled in relief.

With a little luck, she’d have everything ready by the next day.

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Birmingham, England, 1924

After a busy week, Sunday had finally arrived. With the house full, since the Tumblewoods and Pearsons had arrived, Maria Clara didn’t have time to breathe properly. When she got downstairs, at Arrow House, she found everyone already at the hall, waiting her to head out to the Institute opening.

Marie had some trouble deciding on a proper attire. She thought about making a scene with another tight dress, like the one when Grace died, but it’d be a bit rude since the Bishop and Mayor of Birmingham confirmed their presence. On the other hand, as an independent lady and bride-to-be, she didn’t want to keep on those plain, basic outfits single women used. Going through the dresses made for the Season (which she didn’t get to wear due to Tommy’s accident), she found the perfect middle ground: a salmon silk dress – of a delicate colour acceptable for the evening, but it had its sleeves cut and a tighter upper body, despite the loose skirt. It was simple yet elegant. A white stole would cover her shoulders in case the September wind became unbearable, or to ease the ‘lack’ of fabric.

Her hair, styled in the usual way, was loose and wavy, the pin with the Valença symbol adorning her head. Marie wore no makeup, except for an almost insignificant layer of red lipstick – which turned her mouth more pink than crimson. As the tea allowed not using gloves, she preferred to go out without a pair, so it was possible to decorate her hand with a delicate diamond bracelet and the jade ring she bought at the gypsy fair; in her ears, she put a pair of earrings that matched the bracelet, and around her neck she kept the already inseparable necklace that Michael used to propose.

She realised, with satisfaction, that she had chosen well, as some heads turned in her direction, eyes partially wide and expressions of delight.

“Wow, Marie!” Theodora commented, covering her mouth. “You look exquisite!”

“Thank you, Thea. You, as always, look divine too.” Finishing down the steps, she took Michael’s hand and bit back a smile as he kissed her over the ring.

“I don’t know why I thought you wouldn’t show up with something wicked... It seems like a custom at important Shelby Company parties.”

“Didn’t you like it?”

“Far from it, but... Is it absurd that I feel jealous of people looking at you?”

“It’s ideal.” Marie grinned. “Are we all ready?”

“We are.” Tommy replied. “Let’s go, then.”

Holding Michael as the crowd moved toward the door, she whispered:

“I spoke to Tommy yesterday and he assured me that Hughes was not invited.”

“Alright.” Her fiancé took a deep breath. “Thanks for telling me.”

Arriving at the Institute and seeing it all well-decorated and organised filled Maria Clara with pride. Practically every millimetre of the entire space had been arranged according to her wishes. Surely, once she had her family in Birmingham, she would take them to a tour around it.

At first, they had a small chapel service with the bishop and town mayor reciting a few words of thanks to Tommy and Shelby Co. for the initiative. Afterwards, Polly also made a speech praising her nephew and, to Marie’s surprise, her. Pol openly said that if it weren’t for the Brazilian, the Institute would never have been completed in such a short time or would’ve been so well set up. Marie was thrilled, as she didn’t expect anyone to actually recognise her involvement in that way... Tommy, the owner of the place himself, had appointed someone else to the direction board without consulting her, and therefore, Maria Clara kind of gave up on seeking gratification from people.

Tommy, then, ended the service with a small speech about the Institute’s children being protected from mistreatment and abuse of all kinds... Which made Marie squeeze Michael’s hand in support.

With formalities over, the guests retired to the ballroom where tea was to be held. Because it was a celebration, Marie made sure that champagne would be served… Although the Blinders probably preferred whiskey and beer.

“It turned out great, Marie.” Ada approached her, offering a friendly smile. “Though I think not everyone will be able to enjoy this.” Pointing with her chin, Ada indicated Polly standing in the corner of the room, a discreet scowl on her face.

“Isn’t Ruben coming?” Concerned, Marie looked around, paying attention if Michael wouldn’t show up. Polly had never confessed to them that she had a ‘boyfriend’, but Ada had confirmed it when Marie handed her the London guests list.

“I don’t know. She neither confirmed nor denied anything...”

“Drat!” She sighed. “Why can’t men just do the bare minimum?”

“I hope your man is doing.” Ada grinned. “And here he comes.”

Maria Clara still hadn’t gotten used to that idea. Michael would be hers... Would she ever be able to handle the situation without looking like a love-struck fool?

“Sorry to disturb,” He interrupted, taking Marie’s hand. “But have you seen Tommy? The mayor wants to talk to him, however, I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Really?” Scanning the room again, she realised that the boss was absent.

“Wow, I didn’t even notice him escaping.” Ada held back a laugh. “Typical.”

Frowning, Marie had an idea where the older one might be.

“Come with me.” Pulling him away, she bolted out.

There was a sort of hall between the ballroom and the children’s bedroom wing; in order not to leave an empty space, she decided it would be a good opportunity to ‘honour’ the patron of the Institute, so she set up a small altar for Grace. She’d told Tommy about the idea, and he’d agreed right away. Apparently, he liked it more than he let on.

As they entered the hall, they came face to face with Father Hughes and Tommy. The priest was saying something very close to the Blinder’s ear, wiggling a bunch of keys in his hand. When he saw them, though, he moved away and opened a smile that – if no one there knew him – would’ve passed on as friendly. Yet, knowing the real nature of the man, Maria Clara felt nothing but discomfort and a slight nausea. He was so weird!

Michael tensed as Hughes approached them, nearly breaking her hand with the force of his grip. She noticed how he was holding his breath, eyes wide and glazed over.

“Lady Barbosa.”

“Father Hughes.” Marie bowed slightly.

Before he could say anything else, the sound of several footsteps sounded and then came children’s voices. Hughes opened the door and instructed the little ones to go through, other nuns following along. Gently tugging on Michael’s arm, Marie reached out to Tommy.

“Th...” His attention was still at the door. “The mayor wants to eat cake and have tea with you.” Michael cleared his throat, voice crooked and dry.

Tommy remained motionless, his blue orbs fixed on Grace’s portrait. Maria Clara felt the weight of the atmosphere there, half of her worried about them, and the other half desperate to get Hughes away from those children. Since she couldn’t do so, she decided to focus on what she could mend. Touching Michael’s jaw, she asked:

“Want to have a walk outside? I don’t think you ever got to see the entire Institute.”

The Brit nearly dropped to his knees, heart stopping not from the panic or the turmoil of negative emotions that washed over him as he came face to face with Hughes, but from that wonderful woman coming to his rescue once again.

“Don’t you have to supervise the event?”

“Not if you’re not feeling well.” She denied without hesitation.

“I’m ok.” He lied, staring at Tommy. “Shall we?”

The three returned to the salon, and before Marie could even be sure that Michael was really okay (as far as possible), Mrs. Waldorf approached them.

“I saw the announcement of your engagement in the newspaper!” She got in between the couple. “I always knew you’d end up together! When you walked through parties side by side, I used to tell Mr. Waldorf about how you both fit together.” Michael looked at his bride with a comical expression and Maria Clara needed a lot of strength not to burst out laughing. “Have you decided on the date already?”

“Not really; I’m waiting for my parents to arrive from Brazil. And you, Mrs. Waldorf, how are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.” Taking a glass of champagne, she offered it to the lady. “Why don’t we sit down while Michael gets us a piece of cake?! Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.” The woman smiled. “That would be perfect.”

“Can you get some cake for Mrs. Waldorf, darling?” There was a note of mischief in Marie’s voice when she called him ‘darling’, which made him smirk.

And, like magic, he knew everything would be okay.

“Of course, love.” He winked, retreating.

But there was always a storm before the rainbow.

The one that hit the Shelbys came as a surprise: while talking to Mrs. Waldorf, Tommy and Charlie were surrounded by matrons, the baby started crying while Tommy was to take a picture with the wooden horse given by one of the ladies... A caretaker offered to pick the little one up and he had no problem handing it over.

No one would find the child’s absence strange, but with a reasonably paranoid father involved in a number of shady affairs, it was only natural for Tommy to be concerned. Marie noticed the commotion, especially because when Michael returned, he came empty-handed.

“Can I borrow my fiancée for a second?” He asked Mrs. Waldorf.

“Of course, sweetheart.” The woman waved.

Bringing Marie closer to a window, he took a deep, weary breath.

“I’ll need to leave.” He cleared his throat. “It’ll be a quick thing, though.”

“What happened?” Marie felt her heart stop.

“We can’t find Charlie... He may have gone out to play somewhere else or something, but Tommy is starting to get neurotic, so we’ll search around the area. Before you know it, I’ll be back.” Michael was moving away when he felt her fingers in his.

“Hang on!” She pleaded anxiously. “I know this place like the back of my hand. I can help with the search, I just need to...”

“Under my dead body!” Michael denied. “You stay here and get party going. Stay close to Thea and promise me you won’t roam these halls with Hughes on the loose.” He looked at her, his face as serious as ever. “Please.”

Marie wanted to argue, wanted to insist on her participation, but those green eyes disarmed her. It would be foolish to ignore the danger the priest offered, or what she would put herself in walking alone... Even though she wasn’t an active Blinder, Marie was a Blinder; her status became undeniable with the wedding’s announcement.

“Promise you’ll be careful.” And wanting to lighten the mood, she decided on joking a little. “I still haven’t stolen your last name.”

“Is that your concern?!” Michael laughed, relaxing for a few seconds.

“If I think too much, I’ll probably have a stroke and do something stupid.”

“Then think too little, Your Grace.” With a kiss on her forehead, he murmured. “Or shall I call you ‘Mrs. Gray’, due to your fixation over my last name?”

“Call me whatever you want, milord.” Marie blinked, loving how his breath hitched.

“Stop distracting me, you minx.” He shook his head, as if getting out of a spell. “I’ll go and come back in a jiffy. I promise.”

Giving her no space to reply, Michael turned away and headed for the door.

Keeping up appearances was something Marie knew how to do almost naturally, so she picked up the cake for Mrs. Waldorf herself and followed the best advice her brothers ever gave her: if you’re going to lie, lie as plainly as possible. If the lie is very detailed, then the greater the chances of it being discovered.

However, she didn’t lie: she simply didn’t offer any explanation for all the Blinders’ disappearance. She clung to Thea, as instructed, and never was so happy as to hear Mrs. Pearson recount Robert’s childhood while Edward played with the horse that was supposed to be Charlie’s. The lull didn’t last long, since Polly called her into a corner.

“I’m going to the office with Tommy.” She announced.

“Right now?!”

“Yes. Charlie…” She looked around, then lowered her voice. “Was kidnapped.”

Maria Clara’s heart skipped a beat, but she tried not to look shocked or distressed. Holding onto her future mother-in-law’s arm, she asked the only question she could:

“Do you already know where he is?”

“Not yet, but Arthur and John are talking to people. I need to go with Tommy, he won’t be able to do anything wise when he finds out.” While mentioning her nephew, they saw him quickly passing down the hall. “I have to go, dear. Can you stay here?”

“Of course, Pol. Now go, go!” She waved, hand shaking a bit. “Fuck.”

Before she could regain his composure, Michael appeared at her side.

“Marie...”

“I already know.” She nodded. “Make haste, Tommy needs you.”

The truth was, she was panicking at the thought of Michael getting involved with whoever had taken Charlie, but since he was also someone who took loyalty to his family seriously, she knew her fiancé had no choice but to help.

“I’ll go and come back.”

“In a jiffy.” Maria Clara added.

Michael faked a gentle, calming smile, though he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Stealing a kiss, he whispered:

“I’ll be back, Lady Gray, it’s a promise.”

Marie struggled to let go of his suit’s lapels.

In less than two hours, Michael had given free rein to his demons. Tommy wasn’t all that different – if possible, crazier. Michael showed up in the middle of the whole chaos, but whatever they were discussing, he knew it was the Jew who had aided in Charlie’s kidnapping. To protect his cousin, he shot the other man who was trying to get him off Alfie.

And Maria Clara still wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt...

They did the right thing by keeping her away from dealing with the Peaky Blinders.

Alfie gave a speech (annoyingly true) about karma, mentioning something that would stick in their heads for a long, long time:

He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword.

When Michael was less busy with problems, he would spend a good few days thinking about it... But here, he needed to stop his cousin from committing an early murder.

“Tommy, killing Alfie now is not the best solution. It can get really bad for the company.”

Tommy sucked in a breath, eyes still fixed on the Jew.

“Michael, call Inspector Moss.” He instructed. “The man’s name is Palmer.”

Only then did Michael deign to look at the corpse on the floor.

He had killed someone.

For the first time in his life, he had taken it from someone else. He always knew that moment would come, but in a way, he also hoped it never would. Despite the remorse that was beginning to bite his resolve, the sense of ‘duty accomplished’ easily overshadowed it. If he didn’t show up, Tommy would probably have died, and he’d blame himself forever... That could be validated as self-defence, couldn’t it?

Perhaps Marie would choose to view it through that lens.

Or maybe she would never want to see him again...

But that would only be decided after they got Charlie back, so Michael moved.

After he spoke to Moss, Isaiah informed him that John and Arthur had a possible address for Hughes’ whereabouts. Without further ado, he found his cousins and took it.

Night was falling when the car stopped in front of said house. Despite orders being for Michael to accompany the rescue, he informed the Blinders that they should wait outside.

He would go in alone.

He would kill the priest.

His courage rippled as he approached the door. But he was here to say goodbye to his past once and for all; he needed to bury it in order to build his future.

And he wanted it desperately.

He wanted Shelby Company’s success, he wanted Maria Clara and the children they would have. He wanted happiness and the feeling of wholeness, of satisfaction.

He didn’t realise he’d entered until Hughes came out of the room, standing in front of him. A rush of adrenaline swamped him, but his body didn’t understand it right away. Words escaped his throat and all the trauma paralyzed him. Michael had some idea that this was the best time to pull the trigger, but his fingers were frozen.

“What do you think you’re doing here, boy?”

Hughes’ voice remained the same, the cynical and cruel timbre easily detectable. Michael’s breathing became as raged as his heart rate. One second, he had the gun against Hughes’ nose, the next, he was getting punched and losing his balance. The priest didn’t spare him, throwing punches and kicks while cursing him.

With both hands around his neck, Hughes forgot that gangs played dirty. Michael didn’t know what lit him up, but as the older one tried to push him on the table, he felt the coldness of a silverware; touching it blindly, he made a small cut on his finger… It was a knife. Investing against Hughes’ eye with his own head, he managed to push the priest away and knock him down. At the same time, the Blinders that were with him entered, probably overhearing the fight. However, Michael demanded that they stay out of it.

His nose was dripping with blood, his hands were shaking absurdly, and his eyes were glassy. Little Michael came to say goodbye to Adult Michael. Ordering them to call Finn, he bent down and, without further hesitation, pierced the priest’s throat with the blade.

Maria Clara and Polly couldn’t remain seated. The Pearsons and the Tumblewoods returned to London shortly after the end, taking a huge weight off Marie’s back.

She was soon to be declared a lunatic, for apprehension had taken over her in such a way that the only possible outcome was to freak out.

She was already freaking out.

“Pol, what if...”

The door opened, causing everyone to stare at it. Ada was the first to move, running there. Marie and Polly went afterwards, their hearts racing as they saw who had arrived.

Michael, with Charlie in his arms, walked down the hall in an uneasy tranquillity. Ada quickly took her nephew away and Polly hugged her son, doing her best to ignore the smell and dirt of blood. His green eyes were paler than usual, but they lit up again when he found Maria Clara just a few steps away from him. Reaching out, Michael beckoned her closer and opened a small smile.

Marie felt her body tremble. There was something really different about him now, despite the fact that physically he didn’t have any alarming bruises. His smile was tired, but it carried a discreet note of relief, perhaps like Atlas would feel if the gods took him out of the eternal punishment of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Maybe Marie was wrong all along and her Apollo was an Atlas?

Accepting his hand, she realised how she, too, was trembling. Polly made room for her to hug him, a mixture of emotions hitting the woman at the knowledge that her son was so loved and cherished by someone else.

“I’ll call Tommy. Ada, make sure Charlie’s all right.” Pol instructed.

“Michael?” Marie touched his cheek, above where Hughes had hit him.

“It’s over, love.” He announced, because he didn’t know what else to say.

“Want to go home? We can have a bath and...”

Michael hugged her again, pulling her against him and burying his face in her hair.

“I don’t have a suitcase with me.”

“It does not matter.” Marie felt her eyes sting with tears. “It doesn’t matter today.”

“Then I’ll just say goodbye to Mum.”

“Sure.” She sniffed, pulling away.

Walking up to Polly, Michael couldn’t help the absurd thought that popped into his head: he’d killed two men today. He had taken two people’s lives, yet he knew with a frightening certainty that he’d sleep peacefully for the first time since Hughes reappeared.

Like when Grace was murdered, his acid humour got the best of him, causing him to chuckle and mutter to himself in Marie’s tone:

“That’s so rude, Michael Gray.”

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