Peaky Blinders Imagines

Under A Gypsy Moon - Bonnie Gold (smut)

Warning: Language and the Sex. Don't let your granny read this over your shoulder, unless she's a cool grandma who's down with the kids these days.

A/N: Yikesyikesyikesyikesyikes this is my first smut so don't set y'alls expectations high. Don't let me snatch your wigs severely with this terrible word sex.

Also has season 4 left anyone else a cold, hollow grinch of a person who will be in denial about it until you're on your deathbed?? Because same! :)))

-Annie
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The cacophony of bellowing spectators experiencing varying levels of adrenaline mixed with every uncomfortably audible jab of boxing gloves coming into collision with exposed torsos caused you to wince. It was extremely unlike yourself to be in the splash zone of a boxing match in Birmingham, but there you were feeling excitement like you never had before. Your friend elbowed your ribs and shouted above the mass, "To think you almost didn't come!"

Miraculously, she had convinced you to venture out on this violent endeavor, and you were ever grateful. Your eyes set on the two men in the ring. You couldn't help but admire their masculine statures. Who knew the view under their tailored suits could be just as appealing. One boxer in particular demanded your attention. He was obviously younger and smaller than his opponent, but carried an eager and enduring need to win. Blood trickled down his temples to his chiseled cheekbones, and his pale skin was covered in a sheen of sweat, beading and dripping between the divets of his defined abs. Your eyes trailed up his body to his dark, focused eyes as he took swing after swing. You hadn't noticed the bell signifying the end of the round had rung, and you definitely hadn't noticed those eyes were locked with yours. For a brief second you broke the eye contact to find a sultry smirk tugging at his lips. He leaned against his corner of the ring, breathing heavily, still looking at you. The bell rung once again, and the moment fleeted. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you caught your stolen breath and processed what just happened.

"Fuck," You whispered to yourself, knowing full well no one heard.

This boy who you in the moment had the nerve to think was yours captured every waking thought in your brain. You noticed a man in a dinky top hat standing at the side of the ring, yelling orders to the boxer, Gold, his name was. The man seemed to be telling your Gold to hold back. You wanted to run to the ropes and tell him to fuck him up. As you thought this, you heard a man holler something to the same effect. "Kick his arse, Gypsy boy!"

You perked up at this. You knew that the family who ran the city were Gypsies. Did they have anything to do with this? Surely they did.

A collective gasp pulled you from this. Gold was on the floor, brand new cuts dripping blood, looking absolutely beat. Your face contorted with fear. In a flick of an instant, you swore he shot you a wink. He stood slowly, a new energy about him. He squared his shoulders and that was that.

You took your time in collecting your things to leave Gold's victorious fight, hoping the night hadn't been a figment of your imagination. Your friend tapped her toe on the dirt floor, complaining about beauty sleep. Abruptly, she stopped, and perked up. "Oh, Y/N! Did you see that Gold? I think he was giving me the look!"

"Giving you the look?" You snapped in her direction.

"Yes!" She clasped her hands together in excitement, oblivious of your harsh tone, "What a looker! Those eyes! We have to go to his next fight and get his autograph. He'll surely be famous soon."

"Right," You all but whispered.

Disappointment mounted as you slipped on your last glove. The rational part of your brain composed itself, coaxing you into believing that it really wasn't you Gold was looking at. How could it have been you? Your friend had a lot more going for her than you could've ever hoped for yourself.