#isaiah jesus

[warnersister]

Peaky blinders headcannon ->

“the boys finding out the reader is a virgin”

Find the request here

Tommy🪖

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfie🧸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur🍺

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John🥃

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bonnie🥊

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isaiah♟️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael🎱

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finn🎞️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🎞️“Nice.”

[impossibleheartflower]

[jomarch-wannabe]

“I watch Peaky Blinders for the plot”

Most gifs are from @alicent-targaryen, the rest are from Pinterest ;)

[themultifandomgal]

Shelby Sister- Troublesome Twins Pt2

I was asked to do a part 2. So here it is!

Since Finn getting shot, YNs brothers have been even more protective than normal. She's finding it harder to see her boyfriend since Tommy has basically put her on house arrest. YN had been sneaking out during the night to meet Isaiah under the bridge by the cut. Then one day Isaiah asked YN to marry him, she of course said yes, but there's no way her brothers would allow that. So they made the decision to run off, with the help of Finn since he's the only one not to try and control YN's life. Now they're returning home, YN hoping her brothers don't go mad and Isaiah hoping her brothers don't kill him.

"There they are" Finn smiles walking over to them as the get off the train "the happy couple. Welcome back" Finn envelopes his twin before shaking Isaiah's hand

"So how bad will it be?"

"Well Arthur probably will shout, Tommy might have both your heads and Ada well she'll find all of this hilarious" Finn says pulling away

"Looking forward to it" Isaiah sighs

"Just don't tell 'em that your havin a kid because I think that will give 'em a heart attack"

"Well I'm not not for a while"

"Good. You hear that Isaiah. I may approve of you and my sister but no babies us till your like 30" this makes Isaiah and I laugh.

We arrive at the Garrison where I know Finn has gathered everyone

"You ok?" Isaiah asks before we step foot into the pub

"Should be asking you that" I chuckle taking Isaiah's hand in mine "but yes. May as well get this over and done with" I take a deep breath and open the doors immediately seeing it empty apart from my family sat at a large table. Everyone looks at us walking in

"Where the fuck have you been YN?" Arthur yells slamming his drink down

"Let the girl sit down first" Ada says, I give her a little smile in reply. I drag Isaiah over to the table and take a seat next to Polly. Tommy just stares at me while Arthur drinks. Michael sits smoking a cigarette looking between Tommy and I

“So” tommy finally speaks “want to tell us where you were?”

“Errm ok so” I play with my ring nervously under the table “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew you would go mad”

“Spit it out” Arthur grunts

“Isaiah and I got married” I quickly say

“You bloody what?!” Arthur yells

“Finn did you know?”

“Yes, but Tom….”

“You went behind my back”

“I warned you Tommy. I told you Isaiah and I would get married one day with or without your permission”

“Are your pregnant?” Micheal asks

“No I’m not bloody pregnant”

“Then why marry so young”

“Maybe because they love each other” Ada says in my defence, but Tommy scoffs

“They’re kids”

“I’m 21 Tommy. I’m an adult I know what I’m doing” I yell at my brother

“No you don’t YN! What if he fucks another woman? What if he hurts you? He’s going to break your heart. Fuck YN I know what men his age do, hell men my age fuck around while married”

“Just ‘cause you all cheated on your wife’s doesn’t mean Isaiah will”

“Ok I think we need to calm down” aunt Polly tries

“No you know what this was a mistake. Maybe we should have stayed in London maybe I should have made you think I was dead because clearly you’d prefer that than me being married and happy!” I yell one last time “come on Is we’re going” I stand up pulling Isaiah with me. We begin walking out when Isaiah stops, turning around to face my brothers

“You know, I actually really love YN. I respect her as a person, she’s my equal and I will do everything in my power to keep her safe and provide for her and hopefully our kids in the future. I know YN will want you all apart of that, but I guess it’s your choice” Isaiah places his arm around my waist as we walk out of the garrison

“Thank you Is”

“Always”

I groan getting out of bed after hearing multiple knocks on the door and Polly shouting for me. Isaiah and I have been staying with Polly before we try and find our own home. I wrap my dressing gown around my body and make my way downstairs when I see Tommy and Arthur stood at the door

“What do you want?” I ask folding my arms

“You were right” I raise my eyebrows at Tommy. He never apologises

“Continue”

“You told me you would marry him”

“We’re just worried about you” Arthur finally says “we don’t want you hurt. Your our little sister. The baby of the family”

“I’m not a baby anymore. Neither is Finn. I appreciate that you want to keep me safe but I can handle myself and now I have Isaiah, well I guess I’ve always had him. I’m happy and I promise if Isaiah ever does anything to hurt me I will tell you”

“Can we come in?” Tommy asks

“Best ask Poll. I’ll go and get dressed and get Isaiah up”

“Just promise me 1 thing… no babies yet. I don’t think I can handle that as well”

“Ok” I chuckle responding to Tommy.

[lil-bitchy-bride]

I think I'm about to faint 😍🥰🤭

[alicent-targaryen]

ISIAH JESUS ▸ Peaky Blinders, 2.4

requested by @jomarch-wannabe

[peaky1wh0re]

I can take em all (not in a fight)

[sparksetfire]

i just think it's actually so nice how steven knight does care about his actors and wants to show off their talent especially if they aren't that well-known. lizzie was only meant to be in one episode but steven said he had to write her into a bigger role because natasha was too good an actor to just waste on one episode - and the projects she's gotten off the back of peaky like wheel of time are great to see as she's getting recognised more for her talent. sk also said part of the reason he regrets killing off barney was because then he'd be letting go of a brilliant actor he wanted to work with (especially since he was barely in it but would've had potential in terms of his character but also his actor) . and jordan bolger had to quit his role as isaiah in peaky due to scheduling issues and other committments and now sk has him cast in his new show 'this town'. i just think it's great to see how he does recognise the worth of who he's working with

[scorpiussage]

No Fucking Fighting! by scorpiussage

[kkurades]

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ATTRACTIVE WOMAN ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

━━ your little brother’s best friend had always been infatuated by you but only now do you give him a chance.

word count: 1618

pairing: isaiah jesus x fem!shelby!reader

warnings: violence, blood

It was no secret that Isaiah Jesus lived for Y/n Shelby.

Everyone knew of his infatuation for you. You were also aware of his little fixation on you, but anytime one of your brothers mentioned it, you blamed it on his hormones and said that it would pass.

Because that’s what you truly believed, that he wanted you because you were the the typical hot older sister of his best friend who could get any man that she desired.

So, whenever Isaiah would flirt with you, you would harmlessly flirt back, not knowing that you were making him desperate.

But anytime that he wanted to take a step further you refused, telling him that you were too old for him, to which he would respond that it was nonsense and that he would do anything you asked.

You recall Arthur mentioning to you that four years wasn’t such a significant age difference and that you should simply grant him a chance, but once again you refused.

Recently, though, Isaiah had seemingly given up, which made you relieved for the fact that he ultimately moved on. Although somewhere deep inside you, you felt some slight disappointment, but you shoved the sentiments away and proceeded with your life as you usually would.

“Y/n,” you looked up at Tommy who was seated behind his desk, as expected, before nodding in response, prompting him to continue.

“Are you sure you’re alright with doing this?” You rolled your eyes at your brother’s concerns as you lit a cigarette.

“I’ve done this like a thousand times, I’m sure I’ll be able to handle this,”

As a Peaky Blinder, you had no issues with doing illegal activities, which included seducing men before stealing from them.

Tommy benefited from the fact that you were an extremely attractive woman which showed because anytime someone wronged them he would send you to allure them before doing whatever was required of you.

Which was now the case.

Tommy needed you to flirt with an Italian businessman who had a vague association with the Italians. You had to attempt to get him to take you to his house, so you could find the documents that your brother required.

“If you’re sure about it,” Tommy’s retort was short, but you were used to it and took that as your cue to leave and get ready for tonight.

As you walked down the streets to your house, you saw your younger brother with his friends standing suspiciously around a car.

“Finn, you’re not getting into trouble, are you? Tommy didn’t exactly appreciate it the last time,” you spoke, resulting in your brother and his friends turning to you.

You noticed Isaiah straightened up before offering you a charming smile, while Finn looked at you with wide eyes, attempting to find an excuse.

When he couldn’t get anything out of his mouth, you let out a chuckle before patting his back and proceeding with your trek back to your house.

“You won’t tell him, right? Y/n!” You disregarded your brother’s pleas as you took your cigarette out of your mouth to let out a gust of air before you heard audible footsteps approaching you from behind.

“Y/n,” Isaiah, grinned sheepishly at you as he composed him next to you while he walked you home.

“You don’t mind, do you, love?” He questioned with a flirty smile hanging from his lips.

“Of course not,” you caught him staring at your lips as you took a drag of your cigarette before he reached over to take your cigarette and put it into his mouth while maintaining intense eye contact with you.

“But I will mind if you keep stealing my cigarettes,” you told him quietly with a lazy grin dangling from your lips as you rotated the corner where you could catch a glimpse of your house.

“I’ll buy you a new pack,” Isaiah replied as he took your arm to turn you around before you could turn away from him to enter your home.

“No,” you insisted while gazing up at him with a hazy look in your eyes.

You two stood there for a few moments in thorough silence as you gazed at each other with intensity. Isaiah leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you moved away, inducing a pained expression to take over his face, provoking you to frown scarcely.

“Goodbye Isaiah,” his name rolled off your tongue as you carefully removed his hand from your arm before entering your house while looking back only to see him staring at the spot where you once stood.

A sigh left your body as you strained to change your thoughts before you would do something that you would regret later and proceeded to your way to your wardrobe to find an appropriate getup for tonight.

Later on, you found yourself seated in the Garrison while swallowing a glass of whiskey.

When you found your target, you made your way over to where he sat before sitting down, compelling him to look up at you.

“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around,” You surveyed while leaning forward to showcase your cleavage to him.

The man, whose name was Antonio, glanced down at your breast before responding.

“Yes, I’m here for work,” you raised your brows before tracing his fingers in a painfully slow way.

“Mm, do you happen to want a distraction from your work?” Antonio licked his lips slowly before motioning for you to come and sit next to him before wrapping his arm around your waist.

His hand made its way under your shirt as he began kissing your neck roughly, forcing you to falsify a faint moan to make it seem like you enjoyed it.

While he hummed at the sweet taste of your skin, you could sense eyes on you, provoking you to turn your gaze to the owner of those wandering eyes who occurred to be Isaiah who stood in a corner of the pub with clenched fists at his sides.

When your eyes met, he could feel himself becoming infuriated by the fact that a man twice your age was touching and kissing you.

When he couldn’t contain his anger anymore he stormed over to your table before hauling you from Antonio as he commenced a fight with him.

Tommy and John who had also been there to make sure everything would go as planned leaped into action by trying to get Isaiah off the Italian businessman who was shouting at Isaiah.

“I’ll kill you! I promise I will!” Isaiah called after him as you helped John get him out of the pub and into an alleyway.

“Isaiah! What the fuck?” You whisper yelled at him as he started to calm down again.

“Yeah, what the fuck was that for?” John questioned as he fixed his jacket before making his way back inside, leaving the two of you alone.

You examined Isaiah as he let out deep puffs of air through his mouth, as you noticed his busted lip and some blood along his cheek that presumably wasn’t his.

“Isaiah?” You asked with concern lacing your voice, causing him to fully turn to you.

“I just got mad,” he answered as his eyes flickered over your face to make sure that you were alright.

“You got mad? Isaiah, we’ve been waiting for a chance like this for months. So, you got to come up with something better than ‘I just got mad’,” a frown etched onto your face as Isaiah’s hands reached out to hold your face softly.

This time, you didn’t pull away as you waited for an explanation while he caressed your cheek gently with his thumb.

“It disgusted me. His hands were all over you. And I-,” he paused to let out a deep breath through his nose before continuing, “I got protective. I’m sorry for blowing this up,” he mumbled sincerely while gazing into your eyes.

While you knew you should have pulled away when he leaned in, you couldn’t. You were exhausted from trying to dismiss the feelings that he made come to life.

“Just give me one chance,” Isaiah muttered as he noticed your slight hesitance and when you gave the tiniest nod he fully tipped forward.

You could feel yourself becoming putty in his hands as he kissed you so passionately. This was what you always imagined as the fairy tale kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him even closer to you, if that was even possible.

A smile crept onto Isaiah’s face as he kissed you with all he had. With all the bottled emotions that he had since he was twelve. You felt like heaven, and it was even better than what he imagined and dreamt of all those years.

When you were forced to pull away to fill your lungs with air, you slowly opened your eyes but did not completely let go just yet.

You stood there pressed against him with him leaning slightly down. His breath fanned over you as you could still feel the presence of his lips that were just enough removed to get some air.

You tore your eyes from his lips and onto his sparkling eyes that reflected pure joy in them as a small smile was present on his face, causing you to reflect the same small smile.

“Twelve-year-old me would have been so proud of myself,” Isaiah joked softly as you remained pressed against one another.

“Yeah?” You let out a soft giggle, which made Isaiah’s heart flutter as he nodded his head slightly.

“Yeah, definitely.”

©cupidsheqrt , 2022.

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

The Princess of Birmingham

{Prologue: Where Have You Been, Sallyanna Gray?}

Isiah x Sallyanna!OC

Notes: Written in the second-person/"you."

2.6k words Warnings: Use of the word g-psy, angst, language, references to illegal substances, spoilers for Series 4.

The year is 1925.

You have many names. The one that was given at birth is lost to you. All you know is what others have called you and what you’ve made up on your own. Some folks have called you “Sally,” most folks know to call you “Anna.” The police of Western Australia know you as “Birdie Boswell,” and the good folks of Barton & Davies’ Traveling Circus just call you “Birdie.” After escaping from St. Joseph’s, Barton & Davies had been your salvation. You had been only twelve at the time. A real pitiful looking thing. Half-starved and pinching pockets to stay alive. For taking you in to work instead of turning you in, you were forever grateful. 

Barton & Davies were a small circus, owning the train they used to get around. Much of your work involved cleaning up after the elephants and running booze to the clowns. After a few years, you got close to some of the performers. Like Madam Eudora, the fortuneteller. She was a total fraud but was good to you. Aside from Eudora you hung around the knife-thrower and his wife. They weren’t always good to you, but the circus was heaps better than wasting away in that bloody orphanage.

But it still wasn’t your home. Birmingham was. 

The air here is cold, and thick. It feels like you’re swimming on land is a strange forest made of stone and smoke. With wide eyes, you try to find something familiar here. This is your home, Birmingham. Where you were born. Where you were stolen from. It should feel good to be here, but all you feel is damp. You wish you had a fucking cigarette. 

You were taken away from your family when you were very small by people you can’t recall and for reasons that don’t matter to you. For as long as you can remember you’ve been consumed by this need to return home. To find your mother. You can’t remember her name, but you know her face. Dreams have painted her portrait to you every night. It was not until you stumbled across a specific newspaper that you knew what you dreamt of was accurate.

A story featuring one Mr. Thomas Shelby who had opened a children’s institute in his late wife’s name. He, along with his siblings, were depicted alongside Her. 

Your mother. 

Her face was quite small, as she was stood far from the main character of this play. Still, you knew her. You knew her the instant you saw her. For many nights before finding that news clipping, you saw her face in your dreams. This institute was in Birmingham, you knew you came from Birmingham. The nuns used to talk about it. They would whisper about how you came from gypsies there. To see something physical had given you your last push.

How you crossed from Australia back to the United Kingdom wasn’t precisely… legal. Not that you cared. All that mattered was that you made it here. Home was the closest it had been in fifteen years. Still, it would’ve been nice if someone had warned you how cold and wet Birmingham was. Your thin, tattered coat was made to keep out sand and dirt… not the cold. The boots you wore were thinning in the soles and were letting in rainwater with each step. Everything you owned was in a rucksack hanging over your shoulder. You tried to ask the locals if they knew where “Mrs. Gray,” lived. No one would give you a straight answer. One old woman pushed her bony finger to your chest and told you, “Don’t seek that woman, the whole family is troubled. The lot of them.”

Hardly the homecoming you dreamed of as a little girl.

For the better part of the day, all you’ve done is wear out the soles of your boots stomping around Birmingham. You trudged up and down the streets like one of those private detectives Madam Eudora liked to read. Searching for some trace of her. The woman who matched the photo in your coat pocket. It was well-traveled, that piece of newspaper. Folded into a tight square with soft, frayed creases from being opened again and again. You’d completely forgotten how many people there were in Birmingham. On a map, Australia was massive compared to the United Kingdom. Finding one woman in such a small place had seemed simple. You had no money to pay for a bed or buy a meal. No attempts to save money were made on your end. All thought had been to simply get here. 

“Dedicated and steadfast, but short-sighted and prone to recklessness,” those had been Sister Moore’s words on you. A painfully accurate description. She was the only nun you really liked. 

A chill ran down your spine and your dark curls stuck to your rain-soaked face. She was here. She had to be. Night fell fast, which only deepened the cold that clung to you now. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you passed by a man on a ladder. He was lighting a streetlamp. You asked him if he knew the way to Mrs. Gray’s house, all he did was give a subtle nod further up the road. When you tried to gain better direction, he took down his ladder and walked off as if you’d said nothing at all. With no better leads, you walked on. The further down you went, the nicer the houses got. The neighborhood you now found yourself in seemed wealthy. Two-story houses with shiny Fords parked all along the roads. A part of you wondered if this was the right spot to look. You came from gypsies, after all. Then again, your mother was dressed in a fine gown next to some widow who had enough money to fund an entire institution. 

Headlights came toward you, blinding you for a moment as a well-dressed couple drove past you. This car slowed; the driver gawked at you in your weathered clothes. It was not a look you were shocked or unused to seeing, but you didn’t let it slide without a quick, “Bugger off then!” Which made the car speed up straight after. A groan left you, can’t escape that look anywhere, can you? 

You come upon one house with the gutter coming loose from it. When your eyes fall on this one slight imperfection, it stops you. It wasn’t just an imperfect house. It was the only imperfect house. All others were completely identical, but not this one. There’s a pull here. A feeling that only grows as the door to this house opens. A woman with dark bobbed hair in a long burgundy coat stepped out. She lets the door shut behind her as she fishes through her purse, producing a cigarette and a lighter.  

With a flick, she lights that cigarette. Your breath catches in your throat. From that one, brief flash, you see her face. You know her face. The distance between seeing her and recognizing her does not exist. She lets out a stream of pale grey cigarette smoke from between bright red lips into the night air. It is her. Your mother. Standing in fine clothes and sparkling jewelry, a fur draped over her shoulders and a castle of brick behind her. 

Every nerve in your body is screaming, you can’t breathe, you can’t think. All you can do is open your mouth and shout, “Mrs. Gray!” Your voice seemed to echo in this near-empty street. The woman looked up quickly, her had moving over her purse. Though all that separates you is a road, it feels like a river. Light from the streetlamp illuminates you like a spotlight.

Her hand stays over her purse, she says nothing. Your chest can hardly hold your pounding heart, you shout again, “Mrs. Gray, I want to talk to you!”

Your mother’s head snaps to you. She stays frozen as the photograph in your pocket as you repeat yourself. Heart racing, you will your feet to move, and they obey, taking you into the road. Crossing over. She speaks, finally, a startled utterance of, “Who wants to speak with Polly Gray?”

Hands raised, you cried, “I know this is strange, but---“

With a brutal shove, the door behind your mother flew open. Out came a man with broad shoulders and a dark suitcoat. He charged to you, forcing you to scramble back to the sidewalk. He pointed at you, bellowing “This is private fucking property!” 

“Michael!”

The man waved her off saying, “Get back inside.” She did not obey.

You tried to step around the younger man, “Mrs. Gray!”  The stranger’s nostrils flared, and he caught you by your shoulders. The hold on you was firm but unpainful. Now standing under the streetlamp with you, the man’s face was clearer. His hair was a light brown, it was cut cleanly and close to his head. He was cleanshaven with a wide jaw and a strong brow, young. This man couldn’t have been much older than you. 

He seemed to take your stillness for compliance as he spoke to you in an even tone, “Polly Gray isn’t taking any more visitors and isn’t giving any handouts after tonight. You tell your people to stay away, by order of the Peaky Blinders, you understand me?”

By order of the peaky what now? God, this bloke didn’t even seem that sure of what he said either! Well, this wouldn’t be the first time someone threatened you with words you didn’t understand. His pupils were almost raking up his entire iris, even under the streetlamp. Could be some good Tokyo. The smart thing to do would be to proceed carefully, and coolly. He could be dangerous and not in his right mind. That indeed would be the better thing to do. 

Anyway, you shoved him with both hands and said, “Oi, fuck off mate! This’s got nothin’ to do with you.” From over his shoulder, you shouted again, “I just need a word!“

Again, the young man grabbed you, rougher this time. He gripped you by the fur-covered lapels of your coat. The young man lifted you to your tiptoes, “Get the fuck out of here!” Spittle flicked from his lips to your cheek. You kicked at his knees and gripped his wrists tight. All your attention was focused on the woman who was still making her way into her home. Once more, you shouted, “I need to talk to you! I need to, because… because you’re my mother!”

She stood frozen in the open doorway, a hand over her mouth. Her form disappeared as your feet fully touched the ground. The young brute had dropped you. Now he just stared at you, looking boyish now in his open shock. His shock boiled into a greater rage, “How dare you—”

“Michael, let me see her.”

Heels clicked against wet stone, quicker with each second. The young man, Michael, moved aside. You noted a visible vein throbbing on his temple. He started to speak, and she hushed him with a quick gesture. She was standing in the light now. With you. She was only slightly taller than you, her hair and eyes were a dark brown. Just like yours. Her cheekbones were high and very pronounced. Deep brown eyes took you in from head to toe, her expression unreadable, “You say you want to talk to me, because I’m your mother?”

Swallowing hard, you reply, “I do. And you are. I’m certain.”

She shuts her eyes. Wincing. Michael sighs deeply beside her. He turns his back to you. Your mother opens her eyes again, now dewy with unshed tears clinging to her lashes. Her expression remains ambiguous and her voice cold as she says, “My daughter died, she told me so herself. If what I know is wrong, you had better be good at convincing me so.”

“I told you that I…” was she mad? You shook your head, “Well, you’re wrong because you’re wrong. I’m alive, and I’m here. All I’ve done is try to come home.”

Your mother crosses her arms over her chest and winces again. She didn’t believe you. All this time, all these years, and she just didn’t believe you? Not once had this outcome crossed your mind. Especially not that you had somehow told her you were dead. You briefly pondered the odds of that happening. Was she insane, or you? She takes a long drag of her cigarette, not daring to look at you, “I have already grieved the loss of my girl. I don’t know who you are or why you’ve come here, but you should go back.”

“Yes, you do, you know me,” you spat “I’m Sally!”

Her already arched brows climbed higher up her forehead, “Sally?”

“I’m Sally… or I might be Anna,” you cringed slightly and started to twirl one of your thick curls around your finger. You carried on “I’ve been called both before. Not too fond of being called just Sally. Not sure why I gave that one first. Anna sounds classier but I hate when people call me "Annie." Don’t hardly know how to even introduce myself to strangers, I just say to call me “Birdie.” I gave the fake name of Birdie Boswell to the cops once and I still—"

A warm hand closed around your hand, making you release the curl in between your fingers. She was looking at you, hard this time. Different. Whatever you had said, or done, it had shaken her. What felt like seconds to you had been longer to her. 

“I know your name,” her other hand came up to cup your cheek “your name is Sallyanna Gray.”

A scoff sounded off beside you, your mother hissed a quick, “Michael.” The man in question didn’t spare you a glance. He stormed right back inside, like a bull returning to his pen. She started again, “I saw your face in a hangman’s loop. Just as it is now. Like looking through a window. I… I thought you were welcoming me to the other side. Yet here you are. And it is you. It is.” 

You didn’t know you were crying until her thumb brushed a tear aside, “It is. I’m Sallyanna Gray.” The name felt good to speak. Felt right. 

All composure and dignity crumbled for her then. Her arms came around you, her cigarette left dying on the sidewalk. She held you tight. A barely restrained sob shaking her as you returned the embrace. There was so much to tell you. So much lost time to make up. So many questions. Where have you been? How did you find her? Why were you so thin and filthy? Who gave Tommy that false death report? Or did Tommy—

She sighed, parting just enough to look into your eyes. You still twirled your hair. You still had freckles. You still ramble when you’re nervous. And you knew the name Birdie, somehow. A sign from her own mother? Perhaps. All that mattered was that it was you. Polly smiled, despite all that she knew would come after this moment. She could at least enjoy this. Holding you again after all these years. The cold kept her from keeping you to that spot, she could feel you shivering. Polly squeezed your shoulders once, “My God, you’re soaked to the bone. Come inside before you freeze, we can talk after you put on something dry.”

All you could do was nod, sniffling as you wiped your face with your palms. You took one step before she stopped you. She cleared her throat, blinking back another bout of tears.

“Take my hand, I’d like to be the one to bring you home.”

Your smiled and said, “I would like that.”

She laced her fingers with yours and exhaled deeply before forcing a conversational tone. Your mother asked you the question that be repeated many, many times after this night:

“So, where have you been Sallyanna Gray?”

[warnersister]

How the Peaky boys react when you tell them you don’t want children (and they do) -> headcannon📽️🎞️

Tommy🪖

🪖He almost thought he hadn’t heard you. He was driving you both back from a family event in which his nieces and nephews had attended, momentarily leaving you throughout the evening to bond with the young children and get you accustomed to the toddler-side of motherhood, subconsciously assuming that you winked be pregnant with your first by the beginning of autumn this year.

🪖“So, did you enjoy spending time with the children this evening?” He asked, flicking the dead bluntness of his cigarette out of the window, satisfied with the nicotine intake he had received. “Yes they’re lovely, parents must have their hands full.” You say, agreeing with his comments on their admirability.

🪖He put his hand quite far up your thigh and smirked, taking his eyes away from the dirt road momentarily. “When would y’ like to start trying for one of us own?” He asked, expecting excitable gasps but all he could hear was a deafeningly tense silence as you almost wordlessly rejected his question.

🪖“Well?” He creased his brows. You looked away and out of the passenger reader “I hadn’t put much thought into it.” You speak small and quiet, presumably nervous to hear his response. “Well we can start trying as soon as we get home, how’s that sound?” He suggested, lightly tapping your thigh to which you squirmed in the leather seat uncomfortably. “Tommy I don’t think I want children.” The car was suddenly lurched sideways and you were grateful the road was private so your husband was unable to cause a crash. “You what?” He asked, car now stationary and his body turned towards you; understandably dominating the situation.

🪖“I don’t want to be a mother.” You say again, voice a bit more quiet this time but still trying to maintain your confidence in your decision. Tommy examined your face to try find some humour, that you were joking with him. “What do you mean you don’t want to be a mother?” “Well Ada gave me her child and I just didn’t want to hold it” “her” he corrects. “Her. I don’t have any maternal instincts I felt nothing, no admiration, no desire, no want. All I wanted was for Ada to take her baby away.” You tell him, spinning the wedding ring on your finger and biting your lips nervously. “No one knows what to do, no one knows how to handle children” he says, assuming you’re just scared “it’s normal to be scared or apprehensive. Heard that’s just a part of parenthood” he restarted the engine.

🪖“Thomas-” “we’re trying for our child when we get home and that’s final.”

Alfie🧸

🧸You owned a bakery; where you and Alfie had met - he’d walked in off the street one day and surprisingly, you must’ve been the only person in Camden not to recognise him. You’d simply greeted him with a large grin, excited to get a customer while he chatted with you and admired the adrenaline fuelled step as you dashed around your little shop - enjoying the appearance of your youth, definitely him being notable few years your senior. He’d ordered some treats, you even had some treats to offer Cyril who you’d asked wait outside for hygiene reasons. “This, yeah, this thing love, it’s bloody lovely it is… hands of an angel you have” he’d charmed, praising your baking abilities as he enjoyed your bakes. Admiring the blush on your cheeks as he serenaded you with words.

🧸He’d left that day leaving you with a sum heftier than the goods had actually been valued at and promised to return. And return he did, every day without fail at 10 in the morning to treat himself and his pup, offering reiteratively to teach you to make some Jewish deserts as the religious population in London was growing. Until the day you’d agreed, both in the back while you were simultaneously running out to greet customers and back to Alfie. You were kneading dough when you heard the bell chime “you’ve really gotta get your fingers in love, yeah, I’ll show you yeah” and he’d towered over you from behind you guide your hands through the mixture. Then a baby’s cry. “I’ll be back.” You say, hurrying out to greet your guest.

🧸A woman stood with a newborn in pram, looking over your selection. The baby wailed. “Can I help you lovely?” You asked with a gentle smile, not noticing Alfie leant against the doorway behind you, sleeves rolled up and caked in flour as he watched you engage with the customer. “Yes, I’d like-” the baby cried louder “erm” she was evidently frantic, opting to pick the baby up and try to sooth him.

🧸“Oh im sorry i cant think straight.” She apologised, cringing at the noise from the baby. You inhaled, not believing what you were about to do. “How about you pick something, and eat it in and I’ll hold him for you to give you a rest.” You suggested and he nodded almost too quickly. Choosing a dessert and you swapped the sweet treat for money and the babe.

🧸You bounced the young child on your hip as he cooed, enamoured by the new face and was now too distracted to cry. The mother relaxed into a chair in front of the counter and savoured the moment of peace, eventually taking the sleeping boy back and leaving incredibly grateful, Alfie almost unable to contain his love protruding from his chest as you turned back around to continue baking. “Back to work” you joked, walking past him to continue on the dough.

🧸“You’d be a great mummy, y’know sweetness?” He muttered, suggestively. You huffed slightly. “Perhaps” your lips pursed and he stopped you kneading. “What’s ’perhaps’ mean, poppet?” He asked you. “Well I just don’t think I want to be a mum.” The man laughed, assuming you were joking. “What do you mean you don’t want to be a mum? I’m getting old now treacle, I’ve not much time left to have little ones and I’d want them to be yours.” He said, holding your hands in his as you refuse to meet his pleading eyes. “Maybe. Not yet.” You mumble, trying to return to work.

Arthur🍺

🍺Arthur had Finn on his shoulders, drunk off his head as he happily paraded his young brother around the Garrison as the party of success roared, Arthur having one too many to drink and now easily excitable.

🍺Finn was happily playing along, bouncing on his brother’s shoulders and clapping to the music drowning out in the background, enjoying the attention he was receiving from the majority of the pub’s inhabitants. Arthur saw you watching the ordeal, bounding over to you to plant a smiley kiss on your lips and you reach up to ruffle Finn’s hair, hidden under your husband’s cap.

🍺“Could have one just like this, what d’ya say love?” He asks, grinning ear to ear but expression faltering when he saw the distaste written all over your own face. He gently took Finn off his shoulders who ran over to John, who processed to spin the body around - scolded by his own wife for nearly pulling the undeveloped youth’s arms off his body.

🍺“Our own little one?” Arthur suggests. You shake your head, small smile. “Not when you keep coming home in a state like this.” You say and his face drops entirely now, sobering up enough to understand the ultimatum you were offering him.

🍺“I will not have children when you come home every day too drunk to think. I will not let our child see his mother carry his father up the stairs because he forgot how to use his own two legs.” You say, pecking your husband’s cheek and offering a disappointed smile before you wondered off to find Polly.

🍺Arthur pondered your words for a moment, before pulling you and grabbing you back towards him, falling to his knees as he promised for stay sober, to get off the drink, he just wanted you to bear him a child.

John🥃

🥃You and John had just gotten married, a marriage you were both unaware of until you were knelt at the alter but still - the two of you had just gotten married and the wedding bells were playing. Neither of you could say you were annoyed with the outcome of this arrangement, neither finding the other unattractive and prepared to attempt to progress in this diversion of your lives.

🥃The reception was a grand festivity, dancing, drinking, celebrating and toasting to the pact and ceasefire between two rivalling families with conflicts decades old. You and John had your dance, him whispering sweet nothings into your ears as if he’d known you all him life and you’d just giggled and blushed and required his advanced with a giddy look upon your faces - like two teenagers in love.

🥃As the evening died down and you’d been escorted to your shared accommodation to last you the night, you finally had a moment of peace and clarity to be able to come to terms with the events of the day, after all, a mere 24 hours ago you were a single maiden merely dreaming of your eventual wedding to a man you’d become enamoured with someday, not a gangster peace pact, but there you stood; having assistance unzipping your dress from your husband John Shelby.

🥃He kissed along your shoulders, to your neck, spinning you around to eventually kiss your lips and continue to consummate your marriage. “How many kids you thinkin’ the ? Five? Ten?” He asked as you lay naked in his arms, a hand drawing gentle cyphers into your skin. “None.” You whisper and his drawings halt and he pulls away from you slightly to be able to look right at you. “That’s not gonna work w’me love. Wanna be dad.” He said, studying the expression on your face. “It’s not that I don’t want to be a mum,” you say - averting his gaze but he caught your chin and drew you back to be unable to look anywhere but him. “But,” he encouraged you to continue. “But my grandmother died in childbirth, as did my own mother. And my sister is coming to the end of her pregnancy and it isn’t looking positive for her either. I don’t want to leave my children without their mummy and my husband without a wife.” You almost whisper, voice cracking as tears gathered in your eyes. John drew you in to offer you a tight and reassuring embrace. “Is it hereditary?” He asked after a while and felt your head shake against his bare torso. “I don’t know. Either genetic or just bad treatment.” You stay in silence for a moment.

🥃“But I’d be willing to try if being a dad means that much to you.” You say, peering up to your new husband whose eyes soften at the admittance. “Well I’ll tell you what, if it was bad treatment no woman of mine would lift a finger while pregnant. You’d stay in bed and I’d cater to your every need, carry you to wherever you need to go. Pay for the best doctor and the best hospital to make sure my woman and my child both leave the hospital alive and well.” He leant his forehead against yours. “I’ll take good care of you if you let me.”

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie always wanted to be a father. Be a dad. Raise his children the true gypsy way with his wife by his side - let them in the audience when they’re old enough to appreciate his fights, falsely tussle with them and let them win as he begged them for mercy and heard their victorious giggled. Oh he couldn’t wait for the day you’d bear his umpteenth child. That day couldn’t come soon enough.

🥊And when he joined the Blinders, he’d fallen head over heels for the young florist who worked tirelessly across the road from the Garrison, carrying Arthur home as Harry locked up shop and he’d still see you working on a bouquet you’d needed for a client the following day. He admired your work ethic and the old fashioned part of him couldn’t help but imagine you working as furiously in a kitchen while you tickled your children for interrupting your cleaning. You’d make a fine wife in his eyes.

🥊And against no wish of his own, one day Isaiah had forced the young lad into the shop with a laugh and you’d peered up at him form over the counted, cutting the final stem off of the roses you were working on before asking how you could be of assistance and you’d be lying if your breath hadn’t caught in your own throat, also - seeing him to-ing and fro-ing from the Garrison with the rest of those Blinder lads and finding his look rather endearing.

🥊“How can I help you?” You asked with a stressed but gentle expression on your face. “How much do you make an hour?” He asked. “I beg your pardon?” You retort, eyebrows creasing at the nerve of the man and you began to question whether your initial judgement was correct.

🥊“Sorry, no, I meant how much would it cost me to steal you for a few hours for a date without you loosing profit?”

🥊And the rest was history.

🥊He’d taken you to his fights, to restaurants, to his home with the travellers, even to a couple of family meetings as you’d already been acquainted with the Shelby men buying apology flowers for their spouses for coming home battered and bruised with no contact for a few days.

🥊It was a Tuesday, business was slow but you still had a few orders to finish and being not-bust himself, Bonnie was there to offer a helping hand to his lady. The door chimed but you couldn’t see anyone, confused; you leant over the counter to see a young boy, no older than seven stood there. “Please may I have a flower for my mummy? She’s very sad.” The boy pouted. You hummed. “What flower would you like to give your mummy?” The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out two coins, a button and some lint “whatever flower this may get me, if you please miss.” You nod and hand the boy a small bouquet of daisies with a bow to hold them together. The lad grinned and thanked you, offering you his pocket change and you shook your head. “All you owe me is your mummy a smile.” You say and he promises, running back out of the shop.

🥊Bonnie came up and hugged you from behind, leaving a long kiss on your cheek. “You’re awfully good with children, darling girl” he compliments and you scoff. “Yeah sure.” You roll your eyes and go back to your previous activity. And Bonnie’s dream world came crashing down around him as he realised your intentions.

🥊“What? Don’t want little ones?” He asked, keying as to why you’d be unable to offer him an heir. “No because I can’t deal with sick, I can’t deal with whining, I can’t deal with crying and I can’t even take care of myself for crying out pigs. How do I take care of a child?” You shake you head, as if the man was daft.

🥊“But with our child, it would be different.” He says and you look up at him noting the sincerity and desperation in his look. “Maybe when we’re married or something.” You disregard. He shakes his head. “Why not now?” “I have a flourishing business and I’m not just leaving it all to be a wife and mother and traveller.” You say, inhaling sharply and he frowns. You will come around eventually. He bargains with himself mentally.

Isaiah♟️

♟️You and Isaiah were upstairs in the Shelby household, getting a few moments of blissfulness together before the rest of your family returned. Especially your twin Finn, who was still unknowing about the blossoming relationship between you and Isaiah.

♟️Isaiah was kissing all up your body, a starved man delving hungrily at his first meal in weeks, leaving piercing bite-sized bruises in places for his eyes only. Places he’d see when he’d draw you a bath after you’d finished doing the Devil’s bidding in your frequenting sinful tango.

♟️The boy thrust into you at a desperate pace, eager to fuck you out in a matter of minutes and prove just how desperate you could be for him, just how quickly he could make you cum under the pressure from his cock and his thumb rubbing quick circles around your clit, mouth silenced by his own as he kissed you passionately.

♟️He pulled back, clawing his fingers into your hips as though you were trying to get away from him - but if anything you were trying to get closer, go reach that release you so desperately craved. “Going to fuck my baby into you. Fill you full with my child.” He promised, thrusting deep and skilfully. You shook your head. “No Isaiah.” His pace didn’t falter but he looked up at you, grabbing your jaw and squeezing your cheeks as if fucking you dumb. “No?” “No.” You say between smushed cheeks. “Don’t want no kids.”he chuckled. “Too late.” And he continued working on his promise, and you were too high on pleasure to argue any further but when he came inside you it seemed all to real, his hand over your mouth to stifle your cries as you came all over him and him inside you.

♟️“Isaiah I don’t want children.” You say in tears, trying to catch your breath but his weight on top of you was too much and he was still buried too deep, desperate not to waste a drop.

♟️“You’ll bare my children whether you like it or not, doll.” He says, stroking your cheek. “Then they’ll have to let me marry you, won’t they?”

Michael🎱

🎱Michael loved parading his fiancée. He’d proposed in a place so public, so romantic, so endearing… how could you ever say no to your charming Michael?” The rock on your finger was substantial despite the promise you’d made him make to not waste his money on some piece of jewellery, but he’d argued that piece of jewellery showed what was his so he’d have to make his as obvious as possible.

🎱And one afternoon he’d found himself free from any Blinder work, able to take you out and dined you at the finest afternoon tea he could find, drinking as his hand lay comfortably on your thighs as you engaged in wholesome chatter about your future together. Discussing a home in the country, him leaving the family business or at least doing the work needed to be done in the green hills of the Peak District.

🎱“-and you’ll make a lovely mother-” he continued but you stopped him “wait, mother?” You cut him off and he nods, nearly confused. “Well yes. Once we get married you’ll leave your job and I’ll lay for that pretty little house you want and you’ll cook and clean and you’ll bare my children.” He instructed, as if reeling off some old fashioned fairytale his adoptive mother had told him of as a child.

🎱“Michael I don’t want to be a mother.” You say, nearly afraid of him. “Well we can start small. Have one and then we can decide how many more we want from there.” “And if I don’t want more” “then we’ll settle with a son. Raise him.” “And what if it’s a daughter?” You ask. “See.” He grits his teeth. “Already thinkjng about gender. You obviously care. You’re just scared.” “Michael-” “you are my woman. You will bare my children and do your duty as a lady. End of discussion.”

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn was head over heels in love with you since you’d started working at the Garrison that one evening in late June. Harry had hired you after you’d lied about your age, and at this point you’d guessed he’d figured it out by now: he was a smart man, but you’d ran away from home and this job was the only form of income or stability you had supporting you and this crumbing life you were trying to withhold. Well, that and Finn’s arm constantly around your waist - ignoring your numerous rejections until eventually managing a date with you.

🎞️The young Shelby smirked at you from across the room, enjoying the sight of you limping around the bar - sore from last night antics. You were staying with the Shelby family, in Finn’s room, where he was determined to take your virginity and bed you in some dark, twisted fantasy. Pump you with his heir so you couldn’t deny him once more, plus the thought of you plump with a child was mouthwatering and he couldn’t wait to see it.

🎞️You’d started the evening quickly, desperate to rip each other’s garments of and clothes pray after you’d sinned to the devil, advocating for his anti-christian tango as Finn fucked you fast into the sheets. You’d done it iteratively, falling asleep only to be woken up by the boy kissing down your back only to lazily thrust into you again with tired eyes. He’d done it three or four times, until the morning when you’d woken up, his cock still buried deep in your velvety walls, a mixture of both of yours productions pooling onto his bed as he tried to act as a cork to not waste a drop of his productivities.

🎞️So he thoroughly enjoyed the sight, and the falsely-annoyed side glances you’d shoot his way when you were presented with the opportunity.

🎞️It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see new faces in the garrison, well they came every day; whether they be travellers passing through Birmingham or illegal businessmen there to drink and tussle before being thrown out. It was a nightly occurrence. And you expected nothing less this evening.

🎞️It was eight o’clock in the evening on a Saturday, the regular crowd shuffling in other than the Shelby family who had already been seated an hour prior. “What’re you drinking?” An unidentifiable voice asked and you spun go see a man you didn’t recognise, age substantially your senior as he grinned rotted teeth at you.

🎞️“I’m not drinking. I’m serving, however may I offer you Shelby Gin?” You offer, trying to be polite. “I’ll take whatever you’d recommend. I’ll have you if you’re on the menu.” You grimace and poor him a glass, attempting to move on with your shift, unbeknownst to your dance partner seething with rage at the conversation and seeing red fury at a man trying to converse with a Shelby reserved girl.

🎞️He’d asked for a refill, and when you were topping up his drink, he’d reached across the bar to grab your bosom. And before you’d managed to fathom the situation, Finn had lurched across the room and tackled the man, who was laying on the floor clutching his bloodied, broken nose adjacent to Finn who’s knuckles were bruised and dirtied. “How dare you fucking touch her? Touch my pregnant missus? I’ll fuckin’ kill you, y’piece of shit.” And after a few more rough punches and kicks the man was kicked out into the blistering cold of a harsh Birmingham winter, Finn rounding the bar to hug you and calm down slightly.

🎞️Soon everyone was congratulating your pregnancy and asking when the wedding was and after a while you’d managed to pull Finn to the side and question these praises “why did you say I was pregnant? I’m not. And even if I was you know my views, I’m not keeping it.” “I had Polly read your leaves when you had tea this morning. Fucked ya again and again to make sure of it. You ain’t leaving me when you’re pregnant and you certainly ain’t killing my child.” He said, kneeling to kiss your stomach with an evil glint in his eye.

[grayisblogging]

i miss them so bad

[jomarch-wannabe]

Vengeance (Isaiah Jesus x Fem! Reader)

Pairings: Isaiah Jesus x Female Reader

Synopsis: Isaiah doesn’t handle it well when he finds out a boy disrespected you

Warnings: Angst (profanity, violence (beating and cutting (he’s a peaky blinder), blood loss, tears, romanticism of violence) Light smut at the end. Implied age gap (reader is a bit younger than Isaiah (but she is >18))

Author’s note: I wanted to write something for Isaiah and this is the first thing I came up with. Read with caution! It is graphic.

——————————————————————————

Soft chatter filled the walls of Tommy’s living room as the family visited into the late night hours.

Isaiah sat nearest the group, drink in hand as he half listened to Arthur ramble beside him. In boredom his eyes wandered across the room to your hunched posture on the edge of the lounge. His eyes fluttered in concern as they flicked over you, holding your head in your hand, seemingly elsewhere with your gaze fixated on the carpet at your feet.

The cushions squeaked beneath him as he stood up, striding across the room to meet you.

A figure shifted in your peripherals, breaking your spiraling thoughts. Lazily, you peeled your gaze from the floor, taking in a familiar pair of handsome brown eyes.

Unsure of his intentions, you stayed silent, following him with your eyes as he sat beside you. The little amount of space on the lounge involuntarily nudged his leg against yours, making your breath hitch.

“Are you alright?” He whispered with concerned eyes, hiding your face from the others with his body.

The question made your eyes water. In hesitation you chewed the inside of your cheek, trying to keep from breaking down.

“It’s just- I saw you across the room and you looked off is all.”

You took in a shaky breath, gathering the courage to speak, “It’s just some.. boy.” The sentence left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue, recalling the displeasing experience.

His posture stiffened in alertness, “Did he hurt you?” His head dipped at your level, searching for your eyes. Out of instinct he reached for your face, holding it carefully, with affection.

You blinked in surprise, but didn’t stop him. Savoring the feeling of his warm, gentle fingers on your skin.

“Not physically..” your voice cracked, feeling more vulnerable under his gaze, “He just,” you took in a breath, blinking back tears, “posed as some proper man but then left me after he snogged me.”

The confession was emotional to speak out loud, causing a single tear to escape from your eye, rolling down your cheek onto his finger.

His breath hitched, flicking over your hurt face.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” His jaw clenched seeing you in pain. “What’s his name?”

“What?”

“I’ll make him pay y/n. Give me his name.”

“I-I can’t..” you stuttered, unsure of what to do. You knew what the Peaky Blinders could do with a name. Knew why he was asking. You couldn’t say it. It got caught in your throat.

“Just tell me his bloody name!” He pleaded at an intense volume, catching the attention of the room.

“I’m sorry,” he pulled away from you, running his hands over his forehead in frustration. “I just- I’m sorry he did that to you.”

Observing his concern for you ignited a desire in you for vengeance, committing you to speak,

“We went to school with him.” You finally admitted under your breath, picking at your fingers. “He played for the baseball team.”

“Christ.” He blinked in realization, pulling his hands down to look at you. “I know who it is.”

“Eh, everything alright?” Tommy came into view beside Isaiah, brows knit as he analyzed the two of you.

“Yea,” Isaiah lied, clenching a fist in his lap. “Don’t worry Tom. Just got some business to take care of.”

Tommy saw right through him, directing his gaze to you at Isaiah’s vague response.

“Y/n?” His brows raised, waiting for a response.

“It’s fine.” Your eyelids fluttered, unable to meet his gaze as you let out a breath from your mouth.

——————————————————————————

The door to The Garrison swung open with the push of Isaiah’s furious arm, rattling the hinges.

A creak sounded on the wooden floors as his figure appeared, carried in with wide shoulders. His posture was dominant, calculated.

The hood of his peaky cap hid his dark eyes as they scanned the busy pub, locking on a head of brunette hair. The youth sat hunched over the bar with a drink in hand, following a woman with his eyes passing by him. The sight made his veins course with rage.

“Everyone out!!” He suddenly shouted, commanding the attention of the room. All heads turned up, hesitant as they stared at him in bewilderment.

“I’m a fookin blinder!” His gun rattled as he removed it from his holster, shaking in rage as he pointed it at the room. “If you want to keep your eyes, get the FOOK out!”

Chairs slid across the floor instantly as people hurried out in obedience, leaving their drinks on the tables.

Isaiah’s towering figure lunged through mass of frantic people, bumping into them with his shoulders as he approached the boy, beginning to dismount his seat.

“Get out Harry.” Isaiah’s voice was calm, but stern. The bartender nodded, making haste to follow his instructions and exit out the back door.

Unaware of his surroundings the boy ran into Isaiah’s chest, carrying his coat in his hand.

“So you’re the bastard who treated y/n like shit?” Isaiah glared down at him, pushing him backwards with the force of his hands, like a cat playing with a mouse.

“What?”

He was playing dumb, making his veins fill with rage. Isaiah scoffed, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, before grasping his shirt with a strong fist.

The force took the boy’s feet off the ground, he was merciless, manhandling him as he struggled, feet dangling above the floor.

Gathering a wad of saliva, he spat in the boy’s face, making him wince in disgust. The sight made Isaiah’s mouth curl into a satisfied smirk.

“What a fookin cunt.” He leered, criticizing his actions. Angry breaths escaped his mouth as he stared down the source of y/n’s pain. “Pathetic son of a bitch.��

The boy swung in resistance, but failed, caught with Isaiah’s skilled hand. His jaw clenched as he crushed his fingers, making the boy's face contort in pain.

Having him in a vulnerable state Isaiah maneuvered him to the ground, toppling the barstool to the floor with a loud bang.

The teen squirmed under him, fighting and kicking in attempt to free himself. He was no match for Isaiah’s skill and stature, his knees quickly straddled him, pinning down his swinging arms.

He took in the sight beneath him, fuming as he glared at the boy in hatred. Hating him for causing y/n pain. For taking advantage of such an innocent part of her that he only dreamed he could have for himself.

Isaiah’s chest heaved as he dug in his pocket, pulling out a pocket knife. The blade exposed itself with the flick of his thumb, glinting in the orange light of the bar lights.

“Snogged her and then left her eh?” His free hand grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head back against the floor as he hovered the weapon against his mouth.

“I’ll make sure..” he seethed, digging the blade into his lips, ejecting streams of blood as the boy yelled in pain, “you never fookin.." the knife twisted with his ruthless grasp, creating deep lashes "snog," his jaw clenched as his anger increased, brutally dismantling his flesh. “anyone.. again.”

Once satisfied he pulled back the knife, breathing heavily as his fingers fidgeted around the base of the weapon, now covered crimson.

The boy gurgled on salvia and blood as he writhed weakly on the floor, turning his head in resistance.

“M’not done with you yet.”

His fist gathered the fabric of his shirt, easily lifting his limp body to meet his eyes, blackened with rage. Isaiah removed his cap, making the boy tremble, knowing what the Peaky Blinders do.

“Apologize!” He shouted, as his wide eyes flicked over the boy, nicking his temple with the blade. “Or I’ll cut your fookin eyes out!!”

“M-sorry!” The boy stuttered, helpless in Isaiah’s grasp. “Sorry sorry!!”

Seeing his face covered in blood was enough to bring him satisfaction for now. With a hard shove he let go, leaving the boy a collapsed mess on the ground.

“If I see you again, I’ll fookin cut you.” He threatened, eyes flickering in fury, towering above him as rose to his feet. “Understand?”

A low groan came from the boy, slumped against the floor in a bath of blood.

“Understand?!” He shouted at an intense volume, commanding an answer as he shoved his weak body with his shoe.

“Yes..” the boy groaned in a desperate tone, muffled against the wood. “I understand. I understand.”

——————————————————————————

The fireplace of Tommy’s living room crackled beside you as the flames slowly faded. You sat comfortably slouched against the lounge for most of the evening. It was vacant. Still except for the rhythmic tickling of a mounted wall clock and your shallow breathing.

In exhaustion your eyes began to close, glossing over, blurring the orange hues in front of you. As your head dipped in your hand the sound of a door creaked lowly behind you, accompanied with careful footsteps.

You raised your head at the sound, peering past your shoulder at the figure approaching.

A huffed out breath broke the silence as a head of textured dark hair revealed itself.

“Isaiah?”

“Christ.” He breathed in a shaken up tone, “M’sorry I didn’t know you were in here.”

The cushions squeaked beneath you as you sat up, “No, it’s alright.” Your eyes took him in, landing on the spots of dried blood staining his collar. “Sit down.”

With your permission he did, sinking to the left of you with a heavy exhale.

His hands ran over his face. He was holding something in, evident in the slight twitch of his fingers. You studied him, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“Where were you?”

He lowered his hands, meeting his dark eyes with yours, flickering in specks of orange from the flames behind you. He took in a breath of hesitation before speaking,

“Taking care of business.”

“Oh.” It was the only thing you could muster as you took in his words, blinking in shock. As your mind processed what he said your eyes found themselves on his lap, studying his fidgeting fingers.

“M’sorry, I’m just.." your eyes lifted, finding his again. "Not used to men caring about me.”

He took the window of opportunity, extending his hand to reach for yours, “I care about you.. always have."

Warmth covered your skin as his large hands enveloped yours. They were worn, scarred from the beatings. Strong and manly. The sight stirred something in you. Knowing he could protect you, knowing he would protect you.. that he did.

Your lip trembled as a wave of emotions came over you, sucking in short breaths through your nose. He couldn't resist reaching for you, guiding your small frame into his chest with a gentle hold on your shoulders. You didn’t resist, breathing him in as you wrapped your arms around his torso, craving his closeness and comfort.

The weight of his arms around your shoulders evoked a feeling of safety that was foreign to you, one that gave you the space to cry. A few pent up tears unleashed from your eyes, silently rolling down your cheeks onto his shirt.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his chest, sniffling as you relaxed to the careful rhythm of his breathing.

“I’ll never hurt you.” He spoke against your hair with a tone of sincerity, gently sliding his hand down your head. “Not like them fookin school boys.”

Your head raised, meeting his eyes in a shared gaze of affection.

“Promise?”

“Yes.” His lips connected with your forehead, making your eyes fall closed at the gentleness of his mouth against your skin. “Yes, I promise.” He whispered against you, resting his chin on your head. Your grasp tightened, savoring the feeling of his strong body against yours.

“You don’t see me as dirty?” You pulled back in apprehension, looking up at him. “Y’know.. for kissing him?” Your voice grew meek as the feeling of shame rose in you. “I wish I could undo it.”

He shook his head, “No, no of course not love. He’s the bastard. Not you.” His dark tender eyes didn’t leave yours as he spoke. “Any man would be lucky of the chance to kiss you.”

A moment of pause occurred, rendered speechless by his praise. You shared breaths, flicking over each other's face in an unspoken share of affection.

“Will you?”

A soft gasp elicited your mouth, shocked at the words that slipped so easily from your lips. Before you could react he pulled you in, capturing your lips with his in a passionate kiss. The contact of his plush, pillowy mouth against your made your heart race. They were soft, and full, molding against yours in an intoxicating way.

Goosebumps raised on your skin as his hand slid up your back, stopping at the base of your neck, intertwining with your soft strands.

You let out a breath, shaken by the intensity and passion in his touch. This was real. Different than that boy. This was a man.

The force of his kiss slowly pushed you backwards, guiding your frame into the plush cushions. Held up by an extended arm he straddled over you, fanning your cheek as mouth worked against yours.

The sensation was erotic, making you whimper softly in anticipation. You reached for his tie, pulling him closer to you in eagerness as your hands explored his clean shaven jaw, clenching against your fingers.

He smirked against your mouth at your excitement, huffing out an aroused breath as his hand found place against your face, thumbing your cheek.

“Oi!” The sudden intrusion of a masculine voice made you jump, disconnecting your affair.

Isaiah pulled off of you, instinctually reaching in his holster in a quick manner. You sat up in bewilderment as Tommy stood looming, observing the two of you.

“Isaiah, get yourself cleaned up.” He scolded with a stretched out hand.

His face burned as he looked down at his collar and shirt, stained with blood. "Right.."

“Y/n,” His tone was blunt, letting out an exasperated sigh, “don’t get pregnant, we don’t need anymore Shelby’s running around.”

“Eh!” Isaiah, defended you, sitting up. The touch of your gentle hand brought him back to you.

“Alright Tommy.” You let out a laugh through your nose. “Understood.”

——————————————————————————

Hopefully I did my man justice. There aren't many fics of him out there!

[themultifandomgal]

Isaiah Jesus- We’re Getting Married

When I told my brothers that Isaiah and I were getting married, they were not happy. I am the youngest Shelby, as Arthur puts it 'our baby sister'. Thankfully though my brothers came around and now here I stand smoothing down my dress as Esme places my vail in my hair

"You look beautiful YN" Lizzie gushes

"Thank you, but so do you both" I look at Esme and Lizzie through the mirror in front of me

"Ready?"

"Yeah" I smile turning around to Lizzie

"I'll go let Arthur know" she says leaving the room. A few minutes later Arthur knocks the door with his hand over his eyes

"We're all decent you can come in" I tell him. He takes his hand away and I can already see the tears in his eyes "don't cry because you'll make me cry"

"I'm sorry. It's just... my baby sister is getting married"

"Ok no smudging the makeup" Esme says stopping both me and Arthur from crying

"I think Isaiah is waiting" Lizzie places her hands on her hips

"Your right. Come on" Arthur holds his arm out for me to take.

As I wait for the doors to open to reveal Isaiah I start fidgeting

"Don't be nervous"

"I'm not. I'm excited. I love him Arthur"

"I know you do" finally the doors open and in walk Lizzie and Tom, then Esme and John. Then in walk my bridesmaids and finally Arthur walks me to Isaiah who's stood at the end of the aisle looks so freaking good. I notice he's got a tear running down his smiling face which cause me to cry a little. Arthur gives Isaiah my hand then kisses my cheek before taking his seat next to the rest of my family

"Welcome" the priest starts "today we are here to witness the marriage and bond between YN and Isaiah. Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do"

"I do" we both respond

"Before we start. Is there anyone here who has reason that these two should not marry?" Thankfully neither Isaiah or I have to be nervous about anyone standing up "since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church" Isaiah and I hold hands

"I, take you , to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life" Isaiah says looking into my eyes. I repeat what he says

"May the Lord in his kindness strengthen the consent you have declared before the Church and graciously bring to fulfillment his blessings within you. What God has joined, let no one put asunder. May the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob, the God who joined together our first parents in paradise, strength and bless in Christ the consent you have declared before the Church, so that what God joins together, no one may put asunder. receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit. Who has the rings?" The priest asks. Charlie steps forward with both of our rings. Isaiah then takes my left hand

"Receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the father, and the son, and the Holy Spirit" he then places the ring on my finger. I repeat

"Now let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favor with his help those on whom he has bestowed the Sacrament of Matrimony. In the sight of God and these witnesses, I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss" the room is filled with applause while Isaiah and I share a kiss.

It's now the after party at the Garrison and I've changed into something a little more comfortable so I can dance in. Isaiah and I had our first dance then Arthur clears his throat

"Can I have everyone's attention" I take Isaias hand in mine "I'd like to raise a toast to my sister and now brother in-law. Now when you first starting courting I wasn't happy" this makes us all laugh "in all seriousness though, I saw the way YN looked at you and the way you looked at her. It's a love that can't be ignored. I can't wait to see where life takes you both, but no babies yet I'm still not recovered from this wedding" again this makes everyone laugh "to YN and Isaiah"

"To YN and Isaiah" everyone shouts before we all take a sip of the champagne. I turn to my now husband and look up at him

"I love you"

"I love you too" he leans down and kisses my lips.

[lil-bitchy-bride]

Hotties 😍😍