Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 51

Epilogue

I sigh softly. Push open the windows. Allow the sound of seagulls, the fresh sea breeze, to fill the little cottage. Inhale deeply.

Michael's arms wrap around my waist from behind. "Ready to go harvest some mussels?" He murmurs, pressing a kiss into my throat.

I smile. "We come here every summer. I must be getting good at it by now."

"Your cuts are still a little rough," he says.

I hit his hand playfully. "Michael Gray, we've been married ten years, and you still haven't learned not to mock me?"

"Oh god," he groans. "You sounded almost American then."

"Bloody did not."

"We'll have to move back here, if you're gonna start picking up the accent."

"You sound more American than me," I accuse.

"It's settled, then. We'll buy this cottage and spend the rest of our days here. On this beach, where we first met."

"And you won't get sick of eating mussels?"

"My favourite meal," he says, hands splayed across my waist. "Hmm... Second favourite."

I turn in his arms and we kiss, the taste of him heavenly.

"Come on," I finally say. "Before we run out of daylight."

We head down to the beach and find a suitable patch of rocky cliff face. Harvest mussels, smiling at the kids laughing and climbing across the rocks, finding tide pools and discovering the starfish and crabs.

"Maybe one day we'll have kids of our own. Teach them how to harvest the mussels," Michael suggests.

We look at each other in silence for a moment. Then burst out laughing.

"Our nights babysitting John and Esme's kids are more than enough for me" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Too bloody much for me at the best of times," he agrees.

The sun begins to set. Michael builds the fire, and we cook up the mussels. Eat them together, as is our tradition. Sit in silence.

The waves lap at the shore, and we're the only ones left on the beach. Michael takes my hand in his. Our fingers lace together. But this time, he takes my chin in his fingers. His glaze flits from my eyes to my lips.

"I love you, Mrs Gray," he tells me quietly.

"I love you, Mr Gray."

Under the moonlit sky our lips meet. The waves whisper their serenade, and the fire crackles beside us. No matter how much opium we ship to Boston, no matter how much power Michael builds, this is where we belong. Right here.

The stars blanket the night sky. And with our palms joined together and resting, we have found our forever.

THE END