Peaky Blinders Imagines

Michael Gray [1]

AUTHORS NOTE : UNTIL I GET REQUESTS I WILL BE WRITING MY OWN IMAGINES

Bess's POV-

"We're closed"

I scoff at the irish accent that tries to deter me from getting a drink.

"Fuck off, Grace" I spit back while making my way to the bar at which I take my usual seat.

The barmaid rolls her eyes and begins pouring my usual scotch.

"What brings you here this late then?" Grace attempts to make a conversation.

"I just wanted a drink" I mutter, swirling the liquid around the glass and not meeting her eye.

Grace seems to accept this as my answer and continues cleaning the glasses.

I'm not sure how much time has passed but I do know that I've knocked back more scotch then I probably should have.

Which leads me to the fact that I'm not sure if it's my tipsy state of mind or if Grace has been watching me out the corner of her eye for the past few minutes.

"Problem?" I question her, my words slurring slightly.

"Yes. There is a problem" she snaps, turning to face me fully.

I raise one eyebrow in question and gesture for her to continue.

"I know that you've been telling the Shelby's about my dealings with Campbell" she begins.

I choke on my scotch.

"What?!" I yelp, my eyes wide in shock.

Grace's posture now resembles that of a startled rabbit as she stares at me, trembling slightly.

"Y-you didn't know?" She stutters nervously, her eyes darting around the room.

I shake my head.

"No but now I know I'll be on my way home" I begin to gather myself together and stand from my seat.

Just as I place my glass back on the bar after taking the sip of scotch Grace lashes out.

She launches herself across the bar and grabs me by the collar of my dress pulling me up close to her face. So close I can feel her breath on the bridge of my nose.

"You'd better not tell Tommy" she threatens.

I can stop the chuckle that erupts from my throat.

"Tommy? Do you fancy him?" I taunt her. She twitches, confirming my suspicions.

"You can't tell him! He'll hate me!" She cries in desperation.

I shake my head.

"You're pathetic, Grace" I spit as I yank myself from her grip. Turning on my heel I begin to walk towards the doors.

Just as I reach them I hear a rush of footsteps followed by a sharp pain to the back of my head and the sound of shattering glass.

Michael's POV-

I sigh and stretch my arms above my head, my spine giving a satisfying crack as I loosen my body up after a day of being sprawled over my desk.

A knock on my door is followed by Arthur's low voice.

"You coming to the Garrison?" I nod and stand from my chair, grabbing my jacket and cap I follow Arthur out the door.

Tommy, Arthur, John, Finn, Isaiah and myself head off towards the pub. As we come within meters of the doors there's the sound of smashing glass from inside.

The six of us pause and glance at each other.

"Didn't Bess come here earlier?" Finn questions me.

My eyes widen slightly.

"Yeah, yeah she did" I mutter before striding towards the doors and shoving through them quickly. The others hurrying along behind.

I enter the pub to find my fianceé unconscious on the floor with a pool of blood around her head, surrounded by broken glass.

Ignoring everything else around me I move quickly towards her, dropping to my knees I strip off my jacket and press it gently against the wound to try and help stem the blood flow.

My cousins and Isaiah advance towards Grace.

"What have you done" Arthur growls at her.

My attention is stolen from them as a faint groan captures my attention.

I glance down at Bess and find her eyes fluttering open.

"Bess? Can you hear me?" I speak clearly.

She nods weakly.

"Come on sweetheart, try and stay awake if you can" I speak up, raising my voice slightly hoping the sound will keep her eyes open.

She nods but I can see her flagging.

"I've called the Doctor and Aunt Pol, they're on their way" Finn assures me while kneeling down at Bess' other side.