Peaky Blinders Imagines

Michael Grey

"Oh happy New Year my boy!" You watch as the most frightening and strong person you know hugs her son. Polly to you, was by far the scariest out of the Shelby gang. Her son, Micheal Grey caught your eye the second you saw him in the Garrison. Of course, you were accompanied by your husband, as women weren't aloud to come in alone it angered you that you had to be seen with him.

You and Polly had bonded for a brief moment a few nights ago. Your husband was nearly passed out drunk and she was the woman to help you lumber him home. You shared some of your secrets to her then and often wondered if that would come and haunt you later on in life. So far so good, touch wood.

"Darling," You begin, smiling fakely up to your husband, "Please can you get me another drink?" He huffs and stands reluctantly as being taken away from bantering with the men surrounding you was obviously a task.

Polly came tumbling over, fag in hand and Micheal on the other. Slumping in the seat beside me she blows smoke in my face.

"He's a bastard, Y/N)" Polly is obviously drunk and you inwardly cringe at the comment however you don't protest knowing it's the truth. "Oh just look at him! All over that fucking barmaid." You look over and realise the truth in her words, he is in fact all over Grace, the whore.

"I'm Micheal." Her beautiful son introduces himself with a friendly smile, there's no hate in his eyes like you've seen in the other Peaky Blinders eyes, for now, he is untouched and innocent.

"(Y/N)" You nod in acknowledgment and unwillingly blush under his strong eyes.

The front doors of the Garrison swing open with a bash and you jump at the harsh sound. The Shelby brothers waltz over to the table where you're sat at and you glance to watch your husbands reaction when Tommy Shelby takes a seat directly next to you, he's obviously paying no notice to your fear so you take the random drink in front of you and take a swig hoping it will take the edge off. It doesn't.

"My cousin ere seems to like to look of you, love," Tommy doesn't fuck about with being polite and gets straight down to business, "Now grace him with a dance would ya?" He makes it sound like a request but you know it's not. Standing without word, you silently thank Tommy Shelby for giving you this chance, your husband can't object to orders from the Peaky fucking blinders.

Trying to look glum and failing miserably, you fall into the arms of the man you've been attracted to all night.

"Sorry you had to do this." You look up to see a beautiful face that is clouded with hints of embarrassment, maybe? No-not embarrassment but accomplishment. He doesn't sound sorry at all.

"You don't seem sorry at all." You speak your observations and with a flirtatious spin that leads you to getting into a hold much closer than before he smirks edging his hand further down your waist, not quite touching the place that you - not wanting to admit - really wanted his hands to be. "My husband won't be impressed with our Stance Mr Grey."

Micheal leans forward slightly, allowing you to smell the minty and tobacco mixture in his breath and smiles, "You're mine for this dance, (Y/N)"

And little did he know, you really wanted to be his out of the dance too.