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muneca-lemon-steppa · 7 months

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Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 3

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Words: 4,990, Warnings: Swearing, Violence, Sexism, Arguing, Man trying to get with reader.

A/N: AAAHHHH PART 3?!!? Guys this is so much fun for me and I'm so glad you guys are having fun too. Is it weird that I feel like we are doing this together? Also guys just to warn you... we are getting a little angsty,,, a little violent... So if you are not into it, comment and I will give you the general plot of this chapter if it become too much! Anyway please enjoy, love you guys so much! And if I forgot to add you to the taglist I am so sorry! Just lemme know and I'll amend it! And if you need to see the other parts, click the tag with the title of the series, and it should have all the parts together! Ok I’m done!

The home of Alfie Solomons was the quintessential diorama of an old man's bachelor pad. Despite the anxious and angsty attempts by his elderly maid Sarah, the home still carried the air of a man who not only preferred to be left alone, but also had no plans of adding anyone into his inner sanctum. There was paper and documents strewn about, half read books piled by his favorite chair, a hosting bar cart that was looking more ancient than him, and a massive dog making his home on the floor in front of the roaring fire. Alfie silently thanked Sarah for her efforts. Sarah was the best housekeeper he could have ever asked for, she was essentially silent, and did not scold him for the ever present animal pen he kept. Then only things she asked for was to be paid on time, for her Sabbath to be uninterrupted, and to be warned ahead of time if there was to be company. Luckily, he never had to concern her with the last item.

With a grunt he landed on his favorite chair, studying the unused love seat and the matching chair to his that sat across from him. It was a set that was meant to host, that was meant to have visitors and entertain. He had no idea why he bought them, they looked exactly as they did when he bought them three years ago. Untouched. And yet he couldn't help but imagine you sitting so prettily on the chair beside him. With every inhale he could smell the lingering scent of you on his jacket lapel. Clean, like plain soap and fresh air. A kiss of lavender oil that washed over him as you flipped your hair out of your face. He could see so clearly you laughing at his jokes, pouring out tea for you and him, rubbing Cyrils face and giggling at Alfie's gruffness. He could see you darning a small sock...

With a groan Alfie rubbed the visions out of his eyes like a dream. Because that's what it was isn't it? A stupid stupid dream. You were so... fresh and sweet and... frustrating and loud and obnoxious and such a know it all and... beautiful and kind and smart and...

Alfie huffed and got up to beg for sleep in his room, but his head on the pillow only ran through these reveries even more. You were much to young. 10 years his junior at least. You were pure and kind, and he was a bad man. It was an unequal yoke to carry. He had killed people in the war and at home. He had manipulated and schemed to get this. And you deserved more. You deserved a good man, a softer man. Someone who lived a quiet life and could give you a life above board, where you never had to look over your shoulder. Someone who was gentle and wouldn't argue with you, would just treat you like the Queen of Sheba. That is what you deserved. Not some old gangster with a bad back and dozens of men plotting his demise. With a sigh he resolved his promise. He would take care of you as long as you let him. Protect you from all the mess and nonsense of this job, and let you be the girl you are. And when it was time to let you go... he'd let you go. He could protect you and honor you ask long as you'd let him, but when the right man came along, he’d let you leave, knowing that you were safe. And with a sigh he rolled over, letting himself sleep for a few hours, his mind slipping off into a world where you maybe chose him, and made that other chair your favorite.

Across Camden you had just finished explaining to your mother that your very kind boss had just brought you home after a late night in the office. You had to assure her that you were safe and that he was very respectable, that no danger was present. Though the constant worrying and fussing irritated you sometimes, she was a good woman, a good mother, who just wanted the best for her oldest child.

Your mother and father got married incredibly young, and were forced to become acquainted with the world and it’s imbalances even earlier. Where you still got to be young and childless and educated, your mother at your age had already had you, and was working in the family tailors shop full time. The day you realized your mother could scarcely write her name, you heard your mother sobbing to your father late in the evening. It was then that you resolved to do your best in everything, making sure your mothers sacrifices weren’t in vain. And if it took a little white lie to keep her from having a heart attack? Well… it would be worth it.

“Ah I just don’t know darling, that seems awfully forward don’t you think? I don’t even remember your father being alone with me ever until our wedding night? Are we sure he is a good man? Do you have anything with you in your purse darling?”

“Mama I promise you everything is fine. I think his insistence in NOT letting me walk home is evidence enough yes?”

Your mother fiddled with the end of her long braid, a habit indicating her anxiety, a motion you know well, “Mmm I suppose… but darling I just worry. Young women now… very very independent and it is good but… oh I just don’t want you to be taken advantage of darling. Will you take a weapon or something with you?”

You laughed, and maybe you shouldn’t laugh at your own mother. But… oh it is your mother!!! The sweet woman that she was! Who refused to go to sleep without a candle, and forbid your father from cleaning his gun around her, and dropped many a plate due to loud noises… what does she know about a weapon!! “Mama what weapon?! Shall I bring a hand gun to work? Mama none of us know how to use a gun, except Papa and Eli! I’m ok I promise! My boss is not a dangerous man!”

From her place in the kitchen cabinet you heard her speak, “Oh hush! Of course not a gun!! You are absolutely ridiculous. No just take this pocket knife ok? Oh please don’t look so disturbed! It is in good condition and your father got it for me when he would have to work late at the tailors! Will just put it in your work bag please? For your poor mother? If you love me you’ll do it!”

With a laugh and a kiss on her soft cheek you affirmed her, “Of course mama, I could never refuse your gifts. Now now mama don’t be cross i am not teasing! Just promise me you don’t worry about me anymore! I am a grown woman and I am very capable of taking care of things. I learned from the best yeah?”

You mother nodded and kissed your cheek back, patting your head, “Yes yes. Well thank you my love. Now I’m off to bed, and you should too. Sleep well my darling.”

As you prepared for bed you felt a heaviness in the pit of your stomach. What would your mother say when she found out you had been lying to her? What if she did find out? What if she sees you with Alfie in the street? No no it wasn’t possible. Your mother hadn’t left this side of Camden in a decade, and she hates going farther than two blocks. No no it’s fine. You’re fine. And technically, it wasn’t a complete lie! No Alfie was honorable! And he was sweet! And he was handsome… and kind…. and smart… and rugged… if he weren’t a gangster you would’ve probably been matched with him… to be his wife.. No no! No what a childish fantasy. Those are the thoughts of a love struck child. He was your boss and that was it! So what if he was handsome? You were his secretary and that was it! And if he somehow decided to… promote you… you allowed a giggle to leave your chest as you blew out the lamp next to you. Tomorrow is another day.

Soon you developed a routine with Alfie, and the next few months seemed to fly like a wonderful dream. During the week you woke up, making yourself and Alfie lunch for day. The walk to the bakery was typically a lovely and brisk one, with the rising sun being your partner.

Upon arriving at the office, you make quick work of saying hello to the regular faces, and sneaking a sweet treat to Ollie. You set the kettle on, making sure a nice hot cup is ready for you and Alfie upon his arrival. A healthy amount of milk and sugar for you. Almost no milk for Alfie, but extra sugar. Then the daily schedule needs to be attended to. After working with Alfie for a few months you’ve developed a system of who gets what treatment. Some names get tea and a pleasant seat. Some get very bitter tea and must stand the entire time while they wait. Some get absolutely nothing, and are made to stand with their back to Alfie’s door, wondering how they will be summoned. Shot or call. During the meetings you take copious notes. Partially to make sure you don’t miss anything that Alfie will need to call upon later, partially to make visitors nervous about what is being recorded. You had become quite the necessary tool for Alfie. You added a certain glamour and class to the office. A sort of authority in the way you walked that continued to make weak men sweat in the office. Alfie’s favorite part of these meetings was having you re-read what was said, noticing that you added a certain something to keep the pressure on the other party. You were proving yourself an absolute natural.

It was during a day like this when Alfie came back from a ‘social visit’ with a big smile on his face, “Shalom treacle!! Get your coat darling we’re going out!”

You looked up from the calendar you were organizing, “Shalom Alfie, what do you mean we are going out? You have an appointment at 2, and you need to look at the numbers from last week and-“

“Hush woman, fuck the meeting I said we are going out.”

He grabbed your long coat from the hook, and held it open for you to put it on, “Now my love we have very special things today. You remember the gaming club Tommy mentioned? Well he found a place right? And today we are going to look at it and get a price for it.”

As you put your arms through the sleeves, and grabbed your scarf from Alfie you can’t help but question, “But what does this have to do with me? Why do you want me there?”

Alfie then finished his dressing of you by handing you your bag and offering you his arm, “What does this have to do with you? What does this have to do with you? Have I heard that right? Well my dear you put the fear of the devil himself into men like no other. Make them piss themselves. No no don’t laugh treacle it’s true! I need you to strike fear in the hearts of these sinners and help me find the holes. Think you can do it darling?”

The way he smiled at you… it made you want to do anything and everything for him. You smiled and nodded, “Let’s get on with it then.”

Alfie smiled even greater at the small smirk that played on your beautiful lips. He loved it when you worked with him like this. You walked arm and arm, laughing and carrying on like mischievous children ready to prank their teacher. You arrive at the possible location still laughing when you meet Thomas Shelby, and two other men, who you can only assume are the other Shelby brothers that you’ve heard so much about. Your eyes meet with Tommy’s, and you feel your stomach drop at the wink he gives you before walking toward you and Alfie. “Alfie, glad you could make it, “ he stoops down to grab your hand and kiss it, “Good to see you again darling. Let me introduce you to my brothers.”

You’re introduced to both Arthur and John. Your eyes soften at both their faces. John’s eyes show a soft mirth, a sweetness of a young man who still has so much to learn, much like Eli. Arthur… just looking at him your heart is heavy. You don’t know anything about him but his eyes look sad, and there is a weight to his shoulders that make you already feel quite sorry for him.

It takes about three flights of stairs to reach the top floor of the building. It's musty, clearly has not been used for some time, there are cobwebs and piles of dust over every counter, and the once white cloths covering the tables are now a dingy gray. Your wide eyes look up and around the space, clutching your notepad and pen to your chest, "What did this place used to be?"

Tommy answered, "It was once a bar, a little club run by some young idiot who thought he knew his way around this business. Couldn't make it past a year. Now.... it's been sitting vacant. Waiting for us."

You stray from Alfie's side, making notes of everything that would need to be done, "What all is included in the sale?"

"Everything. Tables, counters, fixtures, chairs. All for a reasonable price if you ask me."

"Mmmm Alfie will be the judge of that I think. Alfie, the wall paper will need to be redone yes? I think a richer color on the walls."

Alfie looked at Tommy and smiled, "Yes you're quite right treacle. A wine red yeah? Something indicative of the debauchery of such a hell hole."

"Mmm yes. Tommy, John, Arthur... how stable is this bar counter? How much would it cost to replace it?"

And so went the rest of the afternoon. You milling around the space making notes and sketches, and supplementing with the comments of the men in the room, who may or may not have been following you like ducklings. John and Arthur pulled curtains to let light in, and frankly John was more than willing to do what it took to gain a pleased smile from you. Once adequate notes had been taken, everyone sat around a table, waiting for the agent to come by and agree to a price.

During this part of the meeting, you tended to hold your tongue, only responding to when Alfie asked you to ‘refresh’ his memory on a particular point. It was these parts of the meetings that you could really see Alfie work his magic. Tommy Shelby and Alfie Solomons couldn’t be more different. Where Tommy was smooth and steady in tone, Alfie was a hurricane. A bear of a man who ripped things to shreds. Though on the surface it looked as though Alfie was merely destroying and rebuilding on a whim, there was a method. Study his opponent, memorize the motions and responses to his moves, and utilize it against them. Use previous information to flip and return on his enemy. It was a studied craft. Something you knew that had worked on for a long time. It was an art piece, and with every wink he threw your way, it was clear it was not just an act, but a piece of him. He was a gangster, through and through.

Soon enough, a deal was reached, and a plan was set in place for renovations to start the very next day. And in accordance with their 50/50 split, equal men of Shelby’s and Solomons’ men would be taking part in the work. All the men shook hands, you nodded and smiled at the Shelbys, quick to rebuff Tommy’s offer to take your hand again. Alfie seemed to be in a particularly good mood, and as you walked out of the building, he looked at you and said, “Oi... you hungry?"

You stopped and peered up in his eyes that were partially obscured by the wide brim of his hat, "Mr. Solomons are you asking me to dinner?"

He rolled his eyes, "Oh goodness... see this is why you can never be nice right? Because there you go... being cheeky with me... can never be a yes or no with you yeah? It's always got to be something with you innit? I mean - "

"Alfie Alfie! Yes I am hungry! Now take me to dinner and buy me a drink yeah?" You laughed at his blustering and grabbed his arm, making him meet your eyes, he huffed in response but couldn't keep the smile off his face.

"Buy you a drink yeah buy you a drink! Buy you a hobby so you stop harassing old men. I mean don't you have anything better to do than just be mean to your old boss?"

You laughed as you both walked away down the street, "What do you mean a hobby? My whole life now is just doing your bidding isn't it? And someone must keep you humble, all that business makes your head explode."

You let Alfie lead you to a clandestine pub a few blocks away, shrouded by family businesses and laughing people. As soon as Alfie walked in, the wait staff scurried around, clearing a table in the corner for both you and Alfie. Soon enough you had been given food and drink, and you felt increasingly more relaxed in your seat, facing away from the door opposite of Alfie. You allowed yourself to day dream in the comfortable silence you occupied. It didn't feel like dinner with your boss. It felt like dinner with a friend. Dinner with more than a friend. You imagined about what it would be like with Alfie all the time. To spend the afternoon with him walking through town, enjoying the sun and the conversation. To be taken to dinner with him, meet with friends and repeating faces. To be taken back home with him... sit in front of his fire... to fall asleep with him...

"Hello... treacle??" You're knocked out of your reverie with Alfie's bejeweled fingers waving in front of your face.

"Oh my gosh Alfie I'm so sorry! Yes whats wrong?"

Alfie laughed heartily head thrown back, "Goodness darling your mind must've been in fucking Timbuktu! I was asking if you wanted another drink?"

You felt the heat flush to your ears and cheeks and chuckled in your embarassment, "Oh my goodness I'm so embarrassed. No no I'm fine Alfie thank you. You go, I'll keep our table."

Alfie nodded and went to the bar to grab another glass of Rum. You proceeded to look around the cozy pub when a man slid into Alfie's seat. "Well hello beautiful. Mind if I sit here?"

Your eyes rushed to him. Young. Could be handsome if he cared to bathe and wash the stink of liquor off of him and change his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was sweaty. Stupid. Clearly so. "I'm sorry but you must be mistaking me for someone else. I'm here with my boss and you are sitting in his seat."

He sneered and winked at you, "Oh I saw the old man alright. Solomons yeah, I know him. I'm not too worried about the old man darling. Why don't you come sit with me yeah? I promise I am much more pleasant company."

The irritation was brewing in your stomach, but in truth you didn't want to cause a scene, "If you know Mr. Solomons then you either have a death wish or you are stupid. Please leave and get away from me. Mr. Solomons will not be happy to see you in his seat."

"You calling me stupid?"

"I am. You are clearly an imbecile, and a drunk one at that, now if you excuse me."

You proceeded to get up to find Alfie, when the man stood up and grabbed your arm, "You dumb bitch, how dare you get up. I'm trying to be nice to you!"

The table fell over with a clatter, and you began to scream, "Get off of me!!"

Before you could say another word Alfie came through wretching the man's hand off your arm, squeezing the man's neck."Now you listen to me right? You apologize to the young lady right now."

The young man's face began to slowly turn red, but he managed to splutter out, "Or what? You're gonna hit me with your cane?"

Alfie only seemed to squeeze tighter, and you saw something in Alfie's eyes that you've never seen before. It scared you. "No... no no... this is what's going to happen. If you don't apologize to the sweet young lady here. I will kill you. If you do apologize, I will not kill you. Now I think... I think that is a pretty generous offer yeah? And little man... I think you know who I am. And I think you know that killing little vermin like you doesn't bother me the least bit yeah? So what will it be? Quickly now!"

Without Alfie letting go, the slowly purpling face gasped out, "I'm sorry. I'm so... sorry ma'am."

You nodded back, feeling bile rise in your throat. Alfie dropped the man unceremoniously on the floor with a crack of the table. Without looking away from the gasping man he yelled to seemingly no one and everyone, "OUT!"

Every patron but you and the owner scrambled out with out a second thought. The bar owner locked the door and went to the back, and you felt your pulse quicken ringing in your ears. The sick in your stomach swirling. Alfie circled the still gasping man, who had bruises blooming on his throat, "Now... who taught you to grab women like that eh? Who said that was ok?"

The man didn't respond, and in anger Alfie kicked him right in the ribs. You screamed behind your hands as you heard the sickening thud and crack. Alfie grabbed the man by the collar and shoved him against the wall, 'WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? YOU THINK YOU CAN GRAB MY SECRETARY! YOU CAN GRAB MY GUEST?"

The young man began to sob, begging, and saying he was sorry. Alfie only continued, "Oh you crying now yeah? I thought you said you knew about me and weren't scared. That's why you thought you could harass my sweet secretary yeah? Well let me get you better acquainted."

With that, you saw the Mad Baker of Camden for the first time. Beating and beating and beating the man in front of you. Blood coating the knuckles of Alfie, as the young man's face proceeded to take the most brutal beating of it's life. You tried to stay quiet but it became too much, "ALFIE ENOUGH! It's enough Alfie!"

He paused, fist mid air as the man quivered underneath him. Alfie turned to you, "Enough? It's enough?? This man touched you without your permission and this is enough?!"

"You're going to kill him Alfie! Please enough!"

"I determine when it's enough!"

And he went back to punching him, growing more and more wrathful. And it became too much when the groans stopped, but the punches didn't. All you could do was scream at Alfie and weep. When Alfie finally finished and was heaving, you shoved a napkin in Alfie's hand and left without a word.

You began walking down the street, the tears streaming down your face. You didn't want anyone to see you crying, and the slowly setting sun aided. It was going to be an hour walk home. Your feet will hurt by the end of the night. But you didn't care. You needed the walk. You needed the air. You needed the scent of blood out of your nose and the sight of Alfie out of your mind. You had walked for who knows how long when you heard Alfie's voice yelling over the sound of a car, "Get in the car NOW!"

You looked over your shoulder, Alfie was yelling your name out the window of the car, with Ollie driving. You turned your head back and kept walking forward. You kept hearing Alfie curse, yelling your name, "Stop being a child and get in. DO AS I SAY NOW!"

"OR WHAT? YOU'LL BEAT ME WITHIN AN INCH OF MY LIFE??"

You tried to keep walking, but in a dangerous move the car sped and swerved in front of you, blocking your walk. You gasped as Alfie got out of the car, with a red stained, jeweled finger in your face, "Listen to me... you stop this act. You get in the car right now. You can be angry at me all you want but listen to me... you do not walk home alone. You work for me, you don't walk alone at night. Now. Get. In. The. Fucking. Car."

Tears were still streaming down your face, and you were so so angry with him, but you didn't have a choice. And your feet were hurting. With a huff you walk in the car, not letting him hold the door open for you. You sat in your seat, nodding at a very embarrassed looking Ollie. As soon as Alfie sat next to you, you stared out the window, looking at all the apartments whose occupants were definitely not listening in to your argument. You sat in silence for a few moments, but you couldn't hold it in any longer, "That was too far Alfie."

"I decide what is too far."

"You could have killed him."

"And the world would be better for it."

"You cannot treat people like that Alfie. He was just a child."

"A child who definitely would have hurt another woman in the future, he needed to learn a lesson."

You turned to him then, "Oh and that's how people are taught then yeah? Beating them to a bloody pulp any time they make you upset?"

He leaned in to your face, getting dangerously quiet, "This is my life darling. This is what you signed up for."

You scoffed, "I did not sign up to be a witness to you being a beast! This is not a way to live! This is heinous! You don't have a right to treat people this way!"

You didn't realize your volume, or the way your heart was racing. You were heaving, tears streaming down your face. His eyes... fixated on you. There was rage but you knew it wasn't at you, "I have every right darling. This is the life that has been given to me. Everything that I have, everything that I can give to you, Ollie, and the rest of the men in that distillery, is because of what I do. This world that we live in darling? You think that's fair? Nah... that ain't fair. If you want anything in this life... you need to take it. Grab it with both hands and never let go and never let anyone else take it. This is the way this world works beloved. This. This is what you signed up for. Now either grow up... or don't come back to the office."

You breath stopped. You didn't even consider that option. You felt more tears fall as you turn to face the window again. The rest of the car ride was in agonizing silence. You hated every minute. Alfie made no noise except a huff. After an infinity, you finally reached your home before you could move Alfie put his hand out, "Don't get up yet."

He grumbled as he got out of the car, looked around at both ends of the street, and then went to your door, opening it and helping you out. You refused to meet his eyes but you took his hand. You also let him walk you to the door, and as you reached for the door, you hear him cough and say, "I want you back at the office treacle alright? Course I do. But you really need to decide whether you can handle this. I hate seeing you upset I do darling. But this is who I am. This is the business. Now you need to decide if you can do it. Alright?"

You nodded your head limply. He just patted your head, feeling sick in his stomach, "Alright then. I'll know your answer if I don't see you tomorrow. Good night sweet heart."

"Goodnight Alfie." You whispered, turning your back quickly to run upstairs. Alfie would drive home in complete silence that night, agonizing about what would happen.

You ran past your whole family gathered around mending the laundry in the sitting room. You refused to tell you mother what happened, and didn't let Eli in your room. When your younger sister asked you what was wrong, you just cried in her chubby baby arms, while she patted your head with her child palms. You cried in your pillow, reliving the vision you saw, wondering what to do. You didn't want to see that kind of violence, you had never seen anything like that. But you loved this job. You loved your freedom. You loved spending time in the office, laughing with Alfie and meeting new people. You tossed and turned all night, but sleep would not take you. It was well past midnight when you finally felt the exhaustion of the day creep its' fingers over your eyes.

And then you smelled the smoke.

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia

#alfie solomons #peaky blinders #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons fanfic #Interviews for New Beginnings #peaky blinder fanfic

211 notes · View notes

enretrogue · 4 months

Text

𝗗𝗘𝗖𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝟭)

.☘︎ ݁˖ = BLACK/POC WORKS | 23' FIC REC M.LIST

PEAKY BLINDERS

ALFIE SOLOMONS

Destiny — @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away

A Brother For Cyril ⎢ Part Two — @muneca-lemon-steppa

You Love Is Enough — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Evenings At Home — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Good Girl — @ukrainianmotherfucker

Interviews For New Beginnings ⎢ Part 2 ⎢ Part 3 ⎢ Part 4 ⎢ Part 5 ⎢ Part 6 — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Kisses For Bad Days — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Change Of Plans — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Married Life w/ Alfie Solomons HCs — @muneca-lemon-steppa

All Kinds of Trouble — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Overstimulation + Praise Kink — @fandom-puff

Rum and Soap — @dearshleby

Always — @muneca-lemon-steppa

MICHAEL GRAY

Show You How Much I Love You — @roguerogerss

I Can Imagine — @xoxoavenger

THOMAS SHELBY

At the End of the Day — @lis-likes-fics

The Complaint — @look-at-the-soul

Midnight Interlude — @awritesthings1

Gone with the Leaves — @awritesthings1

Numbers — @mrkdvidal1989

Train Left - Moments Passed — @mrkdvidal1989

Ignoble Sins — @cillmequick

Empty Promises — @fallatyourfeet

You Have More To Lose Than You Take — @mrkdvidal1989

Bloodstained Hands — @mrkdvidal1989

Look At Me — @simplyundeniable98

Time After Time Chapter 13 — @all-mirth-no-matter

A Moment of Happiness — @gypsy-girl-08

Christmas Lights — @mrkdvidal1989

First Christmas — @acewritesfics

Eye Fucking Each Other — @mrkdvidal1989

All I Need — @gypsy-girl-08

Promotion — @acewritesfics

No Man Works Alone — @muneca-lemon-steppa

TRIPLE FRONTIER

BENNY MILLER

The Best One — @theewokingdead

Are You On Mute? ⎢ Part Two — @rhoorl

Ask Prompt — @bullet-prooflove

Are You Going To Be Quiet? — @rhoorl

FRANCISCO “FRANKIE” “CATFISH” MORALES

Bluffing Season — @beskarandblasters

Mesmerized — @endlessthxxghts

New Year’s Day — @hellishjoel

My Home Is You — @chronically-ghosted

Stars — @trulybetty

Need You — @endlessthxxghts

Cravings ⎢ Crash ⎢ Insatiable — @pedge-page

Merry Christmas Cariño — @joelsflannel

All I Want For Christmas — @morallyinept

WILL MILLER

When Sleep Comes Easy — @laurfilijames

Just A Little Push — @missdictatorme

Kinktober 2023: Sexual Exhaustion — @gosmigenergy

Clusterfuck — @velicibeewords

All I Want — @laurfilijames

TRIPLE FRONTIER BOYS

Company — @pimosworld

The Story of Us Masterlist — @pimosworld

TSOU AU ⎢ Never Have I Ever ⎢ Down The Rabbit Hole ⎢ Santa’s A Homewrecker — @pimosworld

What Benny Doesn’t Know Masterlist — @backtothefanfiction

THE GRAY MAN

SIERRA SIX/COURT GENTRY

The Nurse Series ⎢ 2 ⎢ 3 ⎢ 4 ⎢ 5 ⎢ 6 ⎢ 7 — @heresthestorymorningglory

The Spy Next Door — @renren-006

Homework Problems — @renren-006

Wide Open Spaces — @elusivewildflower

Hurt You — @j4desblurbs

Bodyguard!Sierra Six — @wiidvw .☘︎ ݁˖

Safe Hands — @hollandstrophyhusband

Bodyguard!Sierra Six — @wiidvw .☘︎ ݁˖

Aftercare w. Sierra Six — @ken-dom

Bodyguard!Sierra Six — @wiidvw .☘︎ ݁˖

BATMOM

See You Soon (+ Jason Todd) — @reveluving

Batmom’s Biggest Fan — @silly-thinkings

The Bat in the Shadows ⎢ Part 2 ⎢ Part 3 — @ynscrazylife

Long Overdue Masterlist — @apocalypse-shuffle

Love Thorns All Over This Rose ⎢ Part Two — @youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms

Harmony (+Dick Grayson) — @soriseerakyra

Batprank ⎢ Part Two — @ciaraswritings

Unexpected — @ciaraswritings

Ballet (ft. Cass Cain) — @reveluving

I Want To See My Little Boy (ft. Damian Wayne) — @dragon-chica

BRUCE WAYNE/BATMAN

Gossip and Galas — @ciaraswritings

DICK GRAYSON/NIGHTWING

The Graysons — @hannibals-favourite-meal

BATSIS

Alleviate The Pain (Platonic!Dick Grayson) — @pugh-pugh-pugh-pugh

#navigation

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multifandomwriter56 · 1 month

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His Little Spy: The Fight

Series Summary: Anita Edwards is a spy who works for Tommy Shelby. She is an orphan and longs for a family. Will Tommy ever realize she is his daughter, despite them not being blood? Or will he lose her forever?

Chapter 4 Summary: Anita meets someone she thought she would never get the chance to. Tommy isn't happy about it.

Characters: Tommy Shelby, OC, Polly Gray, some other PB characters

Warnings: language, violence, mentions child abuse

Word Count: 3,199

"I fucking hate this hellhole, don't you?"

Anita jumps, barely stopping herself from screaming. She turns to the owner of the voice that just scared the shit out of her; pulling out her knife. "What the fuck? Who are you?"

Alfie chuckles. "Feisty little thing, ain't ya?"

The eleven year old glances behind her, wondering if she should make a run for it.

"There's no need to be frightened, dove. Ol' Alfie isn't going to hurt ya."

"Alfie?" She lowers her arm that's holding the knife. “Alfie Solomons?”

Alfie grins. "The child knows my name."

"I thought Mr Shelby killed you."

Alfie leans down, pointing to the scar on his face. "Well he fucking tried, didn't he?"

The two stared at each other in complete silence. Eventually Anita holds out her hand.

"I'm Anita. Nice to meet you."

Alfie shakes the girl's hand. "So you're the famous Anita Edwards Ollie has told me so much about." He gestures to the man hidden in the shadows.

Anita frowns. Okay, maybe this was a bad idea. She steps back, gripping her knife tightly in her fist. He might kill her to get revenge on Tommy.

"I'm not going to hurt you, dove. I already told you I wouldn't. I need you to do me a favor, right; I need you to give this to Tommy."

Anita stares at the envelope in his outstretched hand. "Why can't you?"

"I'm dead, remember?"

"If you give this to Mr Shelby, everyone will know that's not true." Ollie argues.

Anita can tell by Ollie's voice that they've had this conversation before.

"He already knows, Ollie boy! When I was fucked up on all those meds, I asked Tommy about Cyril."

"Cyril is your dog?"

Alfie smiles. "Yes. How is my boy?"

Anita grins, putting her knife away. "Fat and lazy." Her grin turns into a full smile when the man laughs. "He loves to cuddle."

Remembering what they were first talking about, Anita's smile falls. "How do you know who I am?"

"Ollie's been keeping an eye on Tommy, you see; making sure that little gypsy man doesn't get into too much trouble. He's noticed you around." He pauses dramatically as he stares her down. "He noticed you were digging up information about me, right; and I wanted to know why."

Anita winces at the mention of her little investigation on the man. "You didn't happen to put that in the letter, did you?"

The grin’s back. "Tommy told you to leave ‘dead’ me be?" The young girl nods. "No, I didn't mention the nosy girl, right; thought it was fun having an admirer."

Anita crinkles her nose. "Who said anything about an admirer?"

"Well, I just did, didn't I?"

Anita decides she's not even going to answer that. "None of your men ever told anyone you were alive." She doesn't admit it out loud, but she is impressed no one blabbered.

"My men fucking love me." He holds out the envelope once again. "So will you do poor ol' Alfie this favor?"

Anita smiles. He is nothing like she imagined; but he's endearing in an annoying, yet amusing way.

So she takes the envelope.

"Ollie, I think it's time we get out of hell. Goodbye, my little dove. It was a fucking pleasure to meet you."

Anita giggles. Tommy at least tries not to curse in front of her as much as he does in front of others; but this man doesn't hold back. "Bye Mr Solomons."

"Fucking hell." He mutters. "It's Alfie. No need to be formal."

Anita resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Bye Alfie."

The man smiles softly before following Ollie into an alley where their car is probably hidden.

Anita knows Tommy hasn't gone home yet so she decides to give him the letter now.

She tries to get into the shop, but the door is locked. She checks the windows, smiling when she finds one unlocked. She slips in, trying to be as quiet as possible.

She only takes about three steps when she hears a gun cock. "Hi, Mr Shelby."

"Anita?" Tommy uncocks the gun, setting it on a table. He takes two large strides until he's standing in front of the girl. He grabs her chin, a little more roughly than he meant to. "What the fuck are you doing, young lady?"

Anita's eyes widened. "I-I knew you were still here." She tells him lamely; not really knowing what to say. Why is he so mad?

"You can't just sneak in whenever you want to. I could've shot you, Anita." He scolds, releasing his hold on her chin. "Why didn't you knock?"

The young girl shrugs her shoulders. She sneaks into all kinds of places to get information for him.

How the hell does he think she gets that information?

She holds out the envelope. "I have a letter for you." She says sheepishly; refusing to look him in the eye.

Tommy frowns at the girl; debating on whether or not to scold her some more. He eventually decides against it, taking the envelope from her. "Who's it from?"

Anita subconsciously takes a few steps back. "Alfie Solomons." She mumbles.

Tommy's hand freezes and his head snaps up. "What was that?" He growls; his eyes hardening when Anita stays quiet. "Answer me, young lady." The fear of her learning the truth rises and even though he shouldn't be as angry as he's acting, he lets the anger take over.

Anita draws a circle on the floor with her shoe-covered toes. Two 'young lady's' in one night is not a good sign. "Alfie Solomons." She tells him a little louder this time.

Tommy leans against the table, a hand covering his eyes. He takes a deep breath. It's not her fault, he reminds himself before focusing back on the letter.

Anita watches him read the letter, her body twitching with anticipation. Even back when she asked who Alfie Solomons was; Tommy lost his temper. He forbade her from talking about him again and she doesn’t understand why he wants to avoid the subject so much.

And does he not understand that telling her no, makes her want to do it so much more?

Once Tommy finishes reading it, he slips the folded paper in his suit pocket.

"What did he want?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows; surprised by her gall to even ask such a question. "That is not your concern. Now-" He bends forward until his eyes are leveled with hers. "What do I have to do to make sure you never crawl through another fucking window?"

"N-Nothing. I won't do it a-again." Anita lies; cursing herself for stuttering.

Tommy doesn't believe her one bit; but if she's really to risk upsetting him by lying, then she must believe she has a good reason for defying him. So he lets it be, for now. He'll have to think on it before he brings it up again.

When he straightens, Anita decides to ask a question of her own. "Why did you tell me Alfie was dead?"

Tommy reaches in his pocket, pulling out his lighter and cigarette case. "At the time, I thought he was."

"Why didn't you tell me when he sent you that letter that he is alive?"

"You spoke to him." Tommy states; wondering why the fuck Alfie came all the way to Birmingham to give him a letter when last time he fucking used the postal. "I don't give you information. That's your job." He reminds her, pointing the lit cigarette at her.

Anita scoffs. "Why is that such a terrible thing? He was nice."

"Go home, Anita." Tommy orders, his voice back to his usual monotone intonation.

That tone hits a nerve that she can't hide. not tonight. "I don't have a home." She snaps. "But don't worry, I'm going." She heads for the window, ignoring Tommy calling her name.

Once she's outside, she turns to face him. "This is how I get your information. I sneak around in places where I shouldn't be. So you better get used to the idea that I do this quite often. How else am I supposed to get inside the orphanage without getting into trouble, eh?" She doesn't wait for a response; her courage draining with each second as his glare darkens.

She hates disappointing him and she hates being upset with him. But dammit! She hates it even more when he uses that bored, monotone voice with her.

It makes her feel like she's just like everyone else. That she means nothing to him.

"I think it's time you took a break."

And with those words with that same damn monotone, her hate shifts. "You know what? I think you're fucking right!" She shouts, slamming the window shut.

Her eyes widen in slight fear when Tommy bolts to the front door. She has no idea what would happen if he caught her, but she's not staying around to find out.

She runs.

Anita stirs as she feels the train come to a halt and a man yells 'London!'

She heads for the door, sighing in relief when she doesn't see a Shelby or a Peaky in sight.

Ten minutes into her walk through town, she spots three men coming straight for her.

"You're the Shelby's little snitch, aren't ya?"

Anita tries to bolt but one of the men stops her; grabbing both her arms. "Let me go!" She tries to sound like Polly when she's telling off the Shelby men, but she knows she failed.

The men laugh at her attempts to escape. "Oh, this is her. You ratted us out to Thomas Shelby and almost got us killed. We only took what was owed to us."

Anita remembers the men and scoffs at his words. "If you're stupid enough to steal from the Shelby's, than you're lucky to be alive. Be grateful I knew where your stash was or else I don't think Mr Shelby would have spared your miserable lives."

The punch to her gut knocks the breath out of her. She gasps for air as the man holding her lets her drop to the ground.

"The little bitch has a mouth on her."

She cries out when one of their boots connects with her side. Knowing that wasn't the end, she clamps her mouth shut and curls into herself to protect her organs; just like how Arthur taught her in case she was ever caught.

When she hears the click of a loaded gun, Anita squeezes her eyes shut in anticipation of her death.

She flinches with each gunshot, counting a total of three. The silence is so loud, her curiosity gets the better of her and she slowly peels her eyes open.

To her surprise, not only are the men gone, but she sees a familiar man standing in front of her.

"Alfie?"

"The fuck you doing in London, Dove?"

She opens her mouth to answer him, but her body gives in to the pain; her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

The last thing she hears, is "Fuck!"

The Shelby family never thought the day would come where there would be tension between Thomas Shelby and Anita Edwards. And they definitely didn't think it would affect the whole family or the business for that matter.

Anita only comes around when she has information or when she's needed.

Tommy tries to avoid being alone with her as much as possible. She doesn't try to stay in his office with him anymore. She doesn't beg to be more involved in the business. And she only comes to the Arrow House when he's not there.

"You need to fix this, Thomas." Polly scolds him one day.

"I'm not the one who needs to do the fixing."

"Oh, stop being a child. You're the adult; fucking act like it."

Tommy focuses on the papers on his desk, letting his aunt know he's done listening to her.

Polly storms out, but her anger drains away when she sees a laughing Anita sitting at one of the betting tables. She's not sure what story Arthur is telling the eleven year old, but it must be funny.

"Anita, love; he's ready to see you."

The smile drops at her words. "Can't I just tell you the information and you can tell him?"

Polly shakes her head, a small smile gracing her lips. "He wants to see you." At least she hopes her nephew does; to make things right.

"I don't know why; he barely says a fucking word." Anita mumbles as she stands to her feet.

As the girl starts to pass by her, Polly gently grabs her chin; her eyebrows raised.

Anita can only keep eye contact for a few moments before looking down. "Sorry."

Polly leans down to kiss the top of her head. "It'll get better; I promise."

Anita wants to believe her, but it's been two months since she gave Tommy Alfie's letter. It was tense afterwards, but when Anita let it slip that her and Alfie started writing to one another; he's been cold.

She doesn't understand why he hates the idea of her and Alfie being pen pals. Even though she saw no reason for him to, she let him read some of their letters. They never talk about business. Mostly about Cyril and ships. Aflie likes to describe some of the ships he sees. Anita did mention that her and Tommy are not on good terms, but she didn't show that letter to the leader.

She softly knocks on the door, but doesn't wait for an invitation. If he's expecting her then there's no point of her waiting for a response.

“Anita?”

The young girl takes her normal seat across from the man. “Polly said you were ready to see me.”

Tommy internally rolls his eyes; but on the outside he has his normal, bored expression plastered on his face. “Yes, what do you have for me?”

“Nothing.” This is why she wanted to just tell Polly. She’s not in a mood for a lecture.

Tommy frowns, opening the box of cigarettes. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.” She repeats. “So-” She stands to her feet. “Am I free to go or are going to lecture me about how I need to do my job?”

Tommy freezes at her words; the small flame only centimeters away from the unlit cigarette. It’s like something just clicked in his brain. She’s a ten year old kid wondering about a man, who is not even her family, is going to lecture her about a job. A very dangerous job.

“Anita, wait.”

Anita stops. She looks up at the door to his office. “So close.” She mutters to herself.

She turns around, hoping he isn’t really going to lecture her. “Yes, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy stands from his chair, the cigarette forgotten. He gestures to the chair she was just occupying. “Please sit.” He leans back against the front of his desk, right in front of the chair, her chair.

Anita frowns. Did he just say please? Her eyes scan his, trying to see any hidden meaning behind his words; but all she sees is vulnerability. She sees a softness in his stare that she’s only seen pointed at Charlie. So she heads back to the chair; hoping this isn't some kind of trap.

Tommy stares straight ahead while Y/n stares down at her lap. They stay like this for a few minutes.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been handling things. And I’m sorry for the way I reacted to you and Alfie’s… friendship. I could have handled that better.” Did Alfie tell her the truth? Does she know?

Anita stares at him, her mouth wide open and her eyes as big as they can go. “You’re what?”

Tommy lets himself roll his eyes this time. “I’m fucking sorry, alright?”

‘I was fucking jealous.’

He can’t say those words aloud; but that doesn't mean they're any less true. He keeps playing her words over and over in one of the letters she wrote to Alfie.

'I'm grateful to have someone like you to talk to. Someone I can see as a father figure or an uncle.'

“I see it in your eyes. Just like I did in Michael's .”

Anita never properly met Polly’s son, but she’s heard of him. “And what did you see?” She cautiously asks.

“Intelligence… cunning. You’re a very bright young lady, Anita. I took advantage of that. I keep forgetting you’re only fucking ten. I need someone with your kind of mind, your loyalty. I just need them to be-”

“A man?” She interrupts with a raised eyebrow.

“Of age.” Tommy corrects, but he doesn’t deny her words.

“Polly says you were acting like a toddler who had to share their toy.” She’s starting to forgive him, but a simple apology isn’t enough.

Tommy closes his eyes. His aunt is going to be the death of him. “I don’t consider you a toy, Anita.” He tries not to think about how wrong that sounds. “So-” He’s ready to move this along. “Am I forgiven?”

She stays quiet for a moment. “Take me horse riding and I’ll say yes.” Anita knew there would be a day she would forgive him. She just figured it would sorta just happen; not when he, The Thomas Shelby, apologizes to her.

“You want me to fucking what?”

“I haven't been on a horse for over a month. Lizzie found out I’ve been going by myself since you sent Johnny Dogs wherever and she won’t let me go anywhere near the stables. So I want you to take me.”

“Johnny has been doing what?” Tommy has never felt so confused in his life. How many times has Y/n been to his house and he hasn’t known? When did Johnny start taking her horse riding with HIS horses?

Anita smiles; proud of herself for making Tommy so flabbergasted. “Aw, don’t be mad at Johnny. We always bring the horses back.” She thinks she has the right to tease him some; with what he put her these last two months.

“How do you even get to my house?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s not that far from the orphanage and Johnny showed me some shortcuts. I’m used to walking.”

“How did no one know?”

She smirks, her confidence rising. A side of the young girl that hardly ever surfaces. A side of her that trauma, abuse, and being unloved shoved down inside her. A side she's only shown to two people, rising with the side of her lips.

“Mr Shelby, it’s simple, I’m a fucking great spy.”

Anita didn’t feel like a great anything as she pukes for the fifth time since Alfie helped her into his car. She has the upper half of her body hanging outside of the car as Alfie once again brings the car to a stop.

She groans as her body yells in pain with each movement. “How much farther to Margate?”

“Just another hour, dove.”

“Should you even be driving?”

Alfie grins. “I fucking doubt it.”

She groans again. If the pain doesn’t kill her, Alfie and his one eye will.

Forevers: @desiredposion @theseakrakence @simonsbluee @elenavampire21 @kmc1989

Peaky Blinders: @psychkunox @theshelbyclan @lilymurphy03 @findinghisredrighthand @zablife

His Little Spy Series: @smcc212 @peakascum @auggie2000 @ajwantstohavefun @bloomskater @play-morezeppelin @venomsvl @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @lovemissyhoneybee @theshelbyslimited @bethabear12 @ohshititsfenharel @babayaga67

#his little spy series #tommy shelby #anita edwards #oc #polly gray #peaky blinders series #peaky blinders #oc series

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thomasshelbydrabbles · 10 months

Text

Everything’s a Negotiation (8/?)

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x OC, Modern!Alfie Solomons x OC

Warnings: series typical violence, language, sexual situations, possessive behavior, consensual public sexual situations

Summary: Mac decides to take the train up north, per Sydney’s suggestion. What she hadn’t expected was company during the ride.

Word Count: 4039

A/N: Let me know if you would like added to the tag list.

Mac considered ordering a taxi to get her to the train station, but still thought her best chance of getting out of town unnoticed by the gangsters of London would be public transport. It wasn’t that she thought they couldn’t find her, but more her belief that they would be less likely to cause a scene on the tube. Leaving town mid-week meant slightly less foot traffic. No matter how many times they’d ridden the tube, Mac still found herself surprised that Zeus truly enjoyed it. There were always a lot of people for him to make friends with, even more smells for him to enjoy, but she had wondered if all of it would be a bit too much. He sat leaning against her legs as they rode the Northern line towards Euston station. A young girl with pigtails glanced up at her.

“Can I pet your doggie?”

Mac smiled, glanced up at the adult standing with the young girl. “He’s friendly, but it’s your choice.”

She watched the girl look pleadingly up at the woman. Mac smiled to herself because that’s exactly how Zeus looked at her when he wanted something, and since he always wanted something, it was the main expression on his furry little face. When the woman nodded her okay Mac smiled down at the girl and knelt down next to Zeus.

“This is Zeus,” she said as she scruffed his muzzle. “He loves to make friends. And if you pet here behind his ears, he’ll be your friend and might even try to lick your face.”

At Euston station, Mac waved goodbye to the young girl as she and Zeus made their way to the platform. She’d gotten good at navigating with the dog and her small roller bag, but she still had to deal with people knocking into her, grumbling until they saw Zeus. She found an uncrowded section of the station and pulled Zeus over to sit while she pulled up the ticket on her mobile. Walking towards the first-class cars, she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Of course, she figured Tommy had some of his people watching her, but now she wondered if Alfie did, too. Were they to just watch and report, or would one of them try to stop her from boarding the train? Pulling Zeus in a bit closer, she hoped they’d leave her be. No need to start a scene at the train station, but she would.

“Ticket?”

She smiled as she showed the host her mobile.

“Pleasure to have you aboard today, Miss Theil. Can I help with your luggage?”

Mac nodded as she passed off her roller bag. She got Zeus settled into the car before setting up her laptop at a table near the window.

“Can I get you something to drink before we depart?”

“G&T, please.”

Just as the server left, Mac felt a wet tongue against her hand. Thinking it was Zeus demanding treats for his good behavior on public transport, she smiled before reaching down to scratch behind his ears. However, the fur beneath her hand did not belong to her dog.

“Well hello, sir,” she greeted the giant mut standing next to her, tail wagging. “Aren’t you just adorable?”

“Cyril, you fuckin’ menace come ‘ere.”

At the sound of Alfie’s voice, both Mac and Cyril looked to see him striding into the car. Adeline frowned as she shook her head. She’d been right that one of them would come find her. Since Alfie was the one on the train, she imagined it wouldn’t be long before whatever minions Tommy had tailing her would report back to him about this most recent development. Would he just show up when she got settled in Lancaster? Or maybe, he’d stew on it. Be waiting for her when she came back to London. Neither option pleased her.

“Seems the dog isn’t the only one who’s a menace,” Mac said as she stood from her seat.

Alfie grinned at her. She didn’t want to like the way he looked at her. She did. In fact, she found herself preening a bit under his gaze. The small smile on his face gave a youthful, almost playful air to him. She could almost feel the way his neatly trimmed beard would feel against her skin, the way his plump lips would linger on hers, teasing. Startling her from her daydream, one which, given the knowing look on Alfie’s face she’d been caught in, Zeus came trotting over, tongue hanging out as he moved to sniff at Cyril in greeting. The dogs seemed pleased enough with each other’s company and wandered off to the far side of the car to become the best of dog friends. Mac fought down the urge to call Zeus back to her side. The empty first-class car suddenly felt increasingly small. What was it about these men? Mac found it quite rude that they took up all the oxygen, all the space, as though forcing her to devote her entire focus to them.

Not that calling Zeus would have helped because Alfie swept her into his arms and captured her lips in a kiss before she’d really even come to terms with him being with her on the train. He was so warm. Like a heated blanket on a cold winter day. His hands spanned most of her back, his large fingers pressed into her, holding her tightly against his chest. She brought her hands up, intending to push him away, but instead, they wrapped around his neck, brushed along the nape of his neck, feeling the smooth, silky texture of his hair beneath her fingers. Since he’d taken all the oxygen with his presence, returning some to her was the least he could do. She sighed as she gave herself over to the feel of him, the way he ignited butterflies in her stomach. He, of course, took advantage of this and dipped his tongue into her mouth, chasing the taste of her.

The door to the car opened.

Her drink.

She broke the kiss, his arms stayed wrapped around her, keeping her close to his body. His hands settled on her hips, thumbs stroking along her hip teasingly. A blush bloomed on her cheeks as the host set her drink on the table. She tucked her face against Alfie’s neck, ignoring the way his body shook with silent laughter. Reaching down, she pinched his ass, which caused his whole body to sway forward against hers. The feel of his hard cock had her breath caught in her throat. Through the material of his slacks, through the fabric of her jeans, he still felt…impressive. Long and thick. She groaned as he rolled his hips forward again, teasing her. Testing her.

Alfie’s hands slid up her body, fingers grazing the side of her neck causing her to shiver. His hands cradled her face, thumbs caressed her jaw as he tilted her face up.

“What are you doing here, Alfie?”

“Innit obvious, pet? Thought me holding you in me arms and kissin’, yeah, kissin’ your gorgeous face would be a bit obvious, right?”

Given how her own arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and her lips still tingled from where his beard rubbed against her face when he’d kissed her, then yes, what he came here to do did seem fairly obvious. She still felt as though she’d wake up, find the train gliding along the tracks. Perhaps fan herself a bit, and then go back to her real life.

“Tell me you didn’t get on a train just to give me a kiss.”

Instead of answering, he lowered his face, connecting their lips again in a kiss that was slow, sensuous - as though he literally had all the time in the world to stand here on a train and kiss her senseless. Again, she fell into it, her body molding to his as her hands moved from his shoulders up to his hair. Her fingers sunk into it. The thick strands wrapped around her fingers as she tugged him closer to her. Her whole body fit in the shadow of his, his broad shoulders made her feel small, delicate.

This time it was Alfie who pulled back first. His fingers combed through her hair before tucking it behind her ear.

“My family, we’re bakers. Going back generations, baking bread. Brown bread, white bread…loaves and loaves of it. Now, that’s not all that interesting since many people, yeah, many people can bake bread, but what it does mean, pet, is that I’m good with me hands, right, very good with ‘em.”

As he spoke, Alfie moved around her body. His hands began kneading her shoulders, down her arms, around to the small of her back. A low moan passed her lips as he dug his fingers into her muscles, loosening them even as other parts of her tightened in response. She felt as much as heard his laugh along her spine, his breath warm on her neck.

“Know you’ve been feeling a bit of stress, a bit of stress these past few weeks, pet. Some of it caused by me and that’s bad, right, bad of me. So I’m here, right, I’m here to apologize for my behavior in your office,” Alfie whispered, his lips teasing along her neck.

“You always apologize like this?”

He chuckled, low, masculine - the sound had her vibrating. “No, pet. I don’t make it a habit of apologizin’. See, men in my line of work, right, my particular business, can’t be seen apologizin’ for things because it allows people to get ideas, see, stupid fuckin’ ideas about me, about my nature.”

Mac groaned as she arched like a cat under his hands. “And what exactly am I meant to understand about your nature, Alfie?”

“You, pet? I did not like the way we left things in your office, not a bit. I know it’s mostly my fault because I’m a man accustomed to things going the way I want them, see, and when they don’t, well…”

Alfie’s hands had moved back up to her shoulders. She could imagine him baking bread, could almost see him stood in the kitchen, apron around his waist, kneading the dough with his big hands. Her shoulders began to relax as he continued to weave a magic spell over her body.

“If the whole gangs of London thing don’t work out for you, I’d be your first customer at your massage place.”

“You forgive me, pet?”

Mac’s head rolled forward as Alfie’s thumbs dug into her trapezius. It wasn’t fair. She’d agree to anything right now, and…

With a great degree of reluctance, she slowly drew away from his hands, and turned to face him.

“Why are you here, Alfie?”

“Work for me.”

“No.”

Mac looked around the empty car, brow furrowed. “How is the car this empty? Not that I mind because that would have been quite a show for anyone who might have been in here, and I’m not about giving folks a free show. But it is odd.”

“Bought the whole car when I found out that you’d purchased a first-class ticket for yourself because I did not want us to be disturbed. We have business to discuss, pet, and I thought it best we be alone for it, yeah?”

“And all the bread-making you did when you walked in?”

Alfie smiled. Damn. She wanted to hate it. But. Just like Tommy that smile was her undoing. Made him seem like a friendly teddy bear. Of course, she knew both he and Tommy would bite, but she’d never been good at learning lessons the easy way. Given how flustered they both made her, she did find it a bit of a miracle that they both continued to be so keen on having her work for them. Certainly, the could go to another firm and find a woman who could refrain from becoming a needy ball of sexual tension.

“I told you, pet, that was an apology from me to you for my poor manners in your office. My words, right, they upset you that day, and I found myself not liking, right, not liking that my words had upset you.”

“Now that you’re done apologizing to me, you want me to work for you.”

“Yes.”

Mac reached for her G&T and took a long swallow. She grimaced because a lot of the ice had melted, and she hated how watery it had become. Still, she gulped it down like it might be the last drop of gin this side of the Atlantic.

“Are you and Tommy always like this?” Mac paused, brought a finger to her chin. “Although, I can’t imagine you make out with everyone you want to do business with. Both because I’d feel much less special and because that just seems like a lot of work for you. I’ve explained why it would be a foolish decision to work for either of you. Yet, both of you seem to think you can change my mind by seducing me, and while I’m flattered, and more than a bit overwhelmed, I value my business. As a businessman yourself, I’m sure you can understand my position.”

“I do understand.”

“Then what the fuck, Alfie?”

Her tone drew Zeus’ attention, and soon both dogs had trotted over to where they stood nose to nose. She felt Zeus lick her fingers and she reached down to scratch behind his ears. She wanted another drink. Actually, she wanted to sit down in that chair near the window, put in her earbuds and listen to her true crime, guilty pleasure, podcast.

“Write the contracts in your benefit, pet. You’re clever, and ruthless - I know what you took from Ollie that day,” Alfie said with a wink. “Write them up in such a way that it’s deleterious to either myself or Mister Shelby to betray each other.”

Mac knew her jaw had to be on the ground. He couldn’t possibly have just said that to her.

“What, like bloody primary school? I send you off to the corner when you decided you can’t share the crayons anymore?”

“A bit like that,” Alfie said slowly, his hand stroked his beard. “It is a bit like that, yeah. Because men like me and Thomas Shelby, right, we just can’t help ourselves, pet. And we need, we need someone to provide the boundaries. And in return we make you a wealthy woman, keep you safe.”

She laughed. A great involuntary sound. It had a manic note to it she thought appropriate for the situation, if a bit dramatic. “I swear it’s like you two read the same script. I don’t need money, Alfie. And if it weren’t for you both, I’d not need protecting.”

“Pet - ”

Mac held a hand up to stop whatever nonsense would come out of his mouth next and took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s pretend for a moment that I’ve gone mad, and I’m entertaining this ridiculous idea of yours. Let’s say I have my team of highly paid, very, very nasty barristers draw up a contract that gives you little worms no room to wriggle, one that makes me the queen of fucking everything you bastards own if you so much as glance at the other’s crayons with ill intent. I do that. I have it drawn up. Everyone signs in blood. Everyone’s happy. Until. Until one of you decides that happy is boring. Men like you, Alfie, men like Tommy - you just get bored, don’t you. Just exactly like bloody toddlers, and when you get bored, you break things. But, now, you’ve got this fancy contract that makes me the last man standing. So instead of breaking toys, you break me instead.”

She paused. Met his eyes. He had a good poker face. It wasn’t cold and aloof like Tommy. It was just vacant. Like he’d gone somewhere else in his mind.

“I know how that scenario ends, Alfie.”

“If,” Alfie began slowly. “If there came a time that Thomas and I decided our little agreement, right, our promise to each other, to you, no longer worked for us, right, by the time that happened, Thomas Shelby would be so in love with you that he’d not have you killed, pet. Couldn’t do it.”

Mac ignored the way her heart beat a bit faster at the thought of Tommy being in love with her. Given how he’d responded when Rodney had shown up to her flat, and the way he’d had Michael escort her immediately to him when all Hank had done was cause her a bit of emotional upset, she could see it. What startled her the most was realizing she could imagine herself loving him back. Veering sharply away from that line of thought, she instead focused on what Alfie didn’t say.

“And you, Mister Solomons? Would you be ‘so in love with me’ that you’d not have me killed?”

The silence hung between them. She couldn’t even be angry about it because she knew. He’d told her that day in her office. Forever wasn’t a promise Alfie Solomons could offer to her. Instead, she got massages and promises of Fabergé Eggs. Perhaps giving the order to see her killed would be difficult for him. Maybe he’d even consider a course of action that didn’t end with her lifeless body in a nice pine box. Yet she knew Alfie. At least, she knew the type. Business would come first. And in the end, when it all went tits up, that’s all she would be…a loose end that needed to be tied up. All in service of business.

She nodded. “I believe we have reached an impasse, Mister Solomons.”

“Perhaps not,” Alfie said.

Mac didn’t like the serious tone he used. So many thoughts flashed through her mind.

“Ollie, small thing that he is, found somethin’ useful. Not that he meant to, no. Hurt his feelings you did that day. He went lookin’ for somethin’ to use against you, but you’re good at your job, Miss Theil, very good at your job, yeah, so he couldn't find anything. Moped around like a child. For days. Like a fuckin’ child. Then, one day, he comes into me office excited as I’ve ever seen him, and he learned something about you, pet, about your family.”

Mac stiffened. Beside her, Zeus stood, moved to a guard position in front of her.

“None of that, pet. I’m not here to harm you, no. But your family, an uncle of yours I believe, goes by Hank, and what a fucking stupid name that is, but very Gentile, yes, very fucking Gentile that name, Hank. Well, it appears that he has recently made some business purchases that you might find interesting. Thames Security and Clover have been purchased, and see these names, pet, they seemed familiar. I’d seen them before on that nice list your office sent me the first time you told me no. Both companies were on the top of that list.”

Mac stumbled a bit. Alfie reached out and steadied her, hands warm on her skin. She wanted to push him away, but she didn’t want to fall on her ass, so she leaned into him. Felt his fingers card through her hair. Damn him. Damn them all. Why did it have to feel so good?

“He doesn’t have the capital for that kind of move,” Mac said as she pulled back. “He’s old money, but he relies on the reputation of that name, of the fucking gentry politics more than any sort of funding. He’s not broke, but those are large companies, strong companies. How the fuck did he get that kind of money?”

“Before you jump to conclusions because I know my actions might have you thinking foolishness, I didn’t give your uncle, right, I did not give that man any money. Not a bloody pence of my money went to him. Ollie dug up the court documents, right, the documents containing information about his atrocious behavior and the things that he said to you, the fucking words he spoke in a court of law about you. Ollie found those and gave them to me. I read them. Yes, I read them, and you are a good person, pet, a fucking good person for not having him killed for what he said, and for what he did to you, to your family.”

She couldn’t breathe. Zeus whimpered, nudged her with his nose. When had the walls gotten so close to her? Hadn’t there been windows in this car? Hank’s smug, bloated face hovered in front of her, little grin tugging his thin, mustached lips. Mac squeezed her eyes closed, but Hank only grew larger. There wasn’t enough air in the room. She couldn't feel the tips of her fingers. Couldn’t breathe.

Warm fingers on her face gently stroking her cheek. A broad hand on her chest. Her own hand pressed against a warm body. She could feel a steady thump, thump, thump beneath her fingers.

“Breathe with me, pet.”

She knew the voice. Knew it would keep her safe. She tried to do as he said. Kept her hand against his chest, took a breath in through her nose, released it through her mouth.

Blinking slowly, she forced her eyes open. Alfie knelt on the ground in front of her, eyes tracking her movements, concern etched into her face. She hated how weak her family made her. The panic attacks started when her uncle first brought the suit against her. They increased as litigation continued. Thankfully, she’d never had one in front of him. It was bad enough that both Tommy and now Alfie had seen her have one. She knew men like them shouldn't have this kind of power over her. As Alfie said, Tommy might grow to love her enough for it not to matter, but Alfie would always be a wild card.

“Give me a reason for him to keep breathing, pet. This uncle of yours deserves a shallow grave, pet, not worth wasting the work of a proper burial.”

“He’s not worth it.”

“Bollocks.”

Mac laughed. The noise startled her. Now, though she had a problem. Alfie had leverage. And now Hank was making moves that made little sense to her. This all might lead to her needing the protection Tommy and Alfie could offer to her firm. She doubted any respectable lender would front Hank the money, gentry or not. Even more so, she knew the owners of both companies. They had no reason to sell. She sighed.

“Birmingham New Street.”

She’d not noticed the chime for any of the other stops. In her defense, she’d been highly distracted by a man she figured practiced distracting folks daily.

“That’s me, pet. You’ve the rest of the ride to yourself. Bought the car out as far as Lancaster, so you’ll not be disturbed. I’ll ‘ave them bring you another drink, right, another one when I get me and Cyril off.”

She nodded mechanically.

“Think about my offer. Do your research, right, figure out what that worm of an uncle of yours is doing, yeah, and make a plan. Be clever.”

“I can’t exactly say thank you and mean it, but I’m glad I know now.”

Alfie nodded. “Fair enough, pet.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. It didn’t so much feel like a goodbye, which is what she’d expected. Instead, it felt like a placeholder. As though he’d simply pressed pause on their…bread making.

When the door closed behind him, she fell heavily into the chair. Zeus sat near her feet, his head resting in her lap, eyes staring up at her. She scratched behind his ears.

“I have no idea what we’re going to do, buddy.”

The door opened again, and she just about expected to see Alfie again, maybe even Tommy. Thankfully, it was just the host carrying a tray with another G&T and a charcuterie board. Just as it was set down on the table near her, her stomach let out a loud growl. She chuckled to herself. Damn the gangsters in her life. Damn them all.

Master List

Tag List: @allie131313 @highgardenrosexx @stevie75 @polishcrazyone

#peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons x oc #Tommy Shelby #thomas shelby x oc #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x oc

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mariamariquinha · 1 year

Text

Distraction - An Alfie Solomons Drabble

--------------------------------------------

You saw him every day, especially in March. It was more sunny, the weather was noticeably milder, and he sat on the same bench with a beautiful dog that you later found out was called Cyril. Not because you asked, of course, but the owner himself had a deep voice and after the first time you heard him call to the animal, after letting him go for a while to sniff near the grass or the concrete, you never forgot it.

You, on the other hand, lived in constant idleness in a very large house with a mother almost always exploring the business as a personal friend of so many other important women in the city, so you were left to look for distractions - your legs couldn't stand the lack of exercise, so she didn't complain about you going out constantly.

Mr. Solomons captured your attention by reputation, of course, but also by the way he just was. How he walked, how he used a cane on cold days and even how he nibbled on the cakes or bread he brought with him on his morning walks. After the first unexpected meeting, where you sat on benches opposite each other, you ended up making a point of aligning the schedules.

As a woman without many expectations, that lasted like a good occupation. Gradually, when you were unable to go to the park or just swept away by a terrible rain, you would sit by the window with a forgotten book and think about him.

You even asked the family doctor during one of his occasional consultations with your father, who was a man suffering from a blood disease, about the appearance of a limp leg on cold days. You didn't get many answers, but you had an inaccurate diagnosis of back problems.

Medical books became your distractions, the kind that held your attention. Men of war with wounds and, consequently, given over to the follies of their own minds.

The crippling brain diseases that turned them into beasts, into creatures instead of people, and from there you wondered if he, a man of war, also dealt with the fear of becoming a beast.

You started to look at him with different eyes, with more curiosity and incitement to want to ask questions, but gave up for fear of being too invasive or crossing a line, coming from someone like him.

Until one day something changed.

He wasn't in the same place as usual. You thought it was odd, sat hesitantly on your bench and stared at your own feet, frowning.

Suddenly you saw a pair of feet, then a large dog sniffing at your feet, slowly climbing up your leg. Alfie Solomons was there, staring down at you, scarier than you could ever imagine.

“We can have a coffee.”

It wasn't a question, nor an assumption - he was just saying, like someone would say the sky was blue.

“Pardon?”

“I know you won't object,” He pointed out, just to say the name of your father, then your mother, then yours. You stared at him with your mouth agape, a touch confused. “I'm sure your parents don't either.”

And you considered him for a while, not with fear but with intrigue. He had no men with him, nor anything that would induce you to think it was a trap.

So you smiled.

“As long as it's not bad for your sciatica, Mr. Solomons.”

------------------------------------------------

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@buttercup32sstuff

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons drabble #alfie solomons fic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #tom hardy #just a lil something

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solomons-finest-rum · 2 years

Note

Saga, congratulations once again on 1K!! 🎉 I know how much you wanted to write something Halloween inspired so I thought perhaps a modern AU where Alfie forgets what the date is. He's home watching tv while everyone is out trick-or-treating. When there's a knock at the door, he's surprised to see his neighbor, a single mum, and her two adorable children in costume. Now he must play along and find them a treat. Bc he's Alfie and has no idea about kids, I imagine he'd give them an odd assortment of items he collected in haste. 🤣 But their mum would find it sort of charming and maybe she invites him and Cyril to walk with them. Just something humorous and fluffy for a quick blurb. I hope it inspires you!

"Trick or Treat" — (Alfie Solomons x OFC)

SUMMARY — Modern!AU. One Halloween evening, three witches come to Alfie's porch for trick-or-treating. Chaos ensues.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Goodness, how long I made you wait for this one, I'm so sorry my friend! 🙈💕I hope the moodboard I made to accompany this fic and the extended length makes up for it! 💗💗💗💗I really did my best with this I think, or at least beat my temporary writer's block right on the head with it🙈💗💗💗💗

WORD COUNT — 3,599

Masterlist

For one Alfie Solomons, the morning of Halloween began with a haunting.

The doorbell rang at an ungodly early hour and he nearly fell off the bed when he heard it. Knowing full-well he wasn’t expecting anyone, Alfie reasoned quickly that the only possibility could either be a stranger, a neighbour, or the police. Not really sure which one of these was worse, he stomped towards the front door grumpier than ever.

“Yeah, yeah, hold yer fuckin’ horses, treacle, I ain’t decent!” he grumbled when the doorbell sounded again.

Alfie opened the door and immediately closed it as soon as his eyes met with Inspector Campbell’s.

“Good morning, Mr. Solomons!” Chester Campbell exclaimed, entirely all too happily for Alfie’s liking, and he seemed completely undeterred by the treatment.

Which could only mean he had some bad news.

“Nope! Nah! Not doin’ that with ya today, right, so you can go fuck off, mate!” Alfie promptly turned around to locate the closest trousers and check the corridor for anything incriminating while at it.

“Mr. Solomons, we need to talk!” Campbell knocked on the door once more and Alfie grunted when he finally managed to get himself half-way into a half-clean pair of jeans.

“Yeah, we’ve done too much of that lately for my likin’, right, so you can get a warrant!” he shouted right back.

“Is that really necessary?”

“Afraid so, yeah!”

“Mr. Solomons, you’re stalling!”

He absolutely was, yes.

The thing was, Alfie wasn’t exactly surprised that Campbell came to see him—tracked him down, more or less. Alfie’s parole meeting was coming up and the prospect of his earlier charges getting dismissed obviously must have enraged the Inspector enough to come down all the way to Margate.

But then, just as the Inspector raised his hand to knock again, Alfie opened the door once more and squeezed himself right in front of the other man, closing the front door behind him and thus creating the environment he hoped would be increasingly uncomfortable for the cop—at least uncomfortable enough to get him down from his high horse and off the porch.

“Right, there we are then, treacle, nice an’ cosy, just as we like, right? What can I do for ya?” Alfie sneered.

“Mr. Solomons, is that really necessary?” Campbell asked, in a tone that let Alfie know just how exasperated he was with the nonsense.

“Aye, forgot to clean the place, right, ‘s a bloody pigsty it is,” Alfie’s sneer only grew. “If you’d give me a head’s up there—”

“Very well,” Campbell grumbled and looked around to see if any passers-by would witness what he was about to do next.

Unfortunately for Alfie, his house, while comfortably close to the sea, was also the most remotely placed.

Which was why the Inspector could lean in and whisper maliciously:

“Now, I know what you’ve been up to, Mr. Solomons, and I also know that you know how close I am to implicating the Shelbys along with it. So you can consider your parole hearing… How should I put it? Utterly redundant.”

After that delightful little message, Campbell straightened his back and exclaimed, unnecessarily loudly:

“Good day, Mr. Solomons!”

So you could say all of that left Alfie a little enraged. Distracted, even. Truth be told, he completely lost track of time, which angered him even more—that he let Campbell get to him like that.

Nonetheless, Alfie’s foul mood resulted in him frantically going between calling his lawyer, switching from threatening and pleading, and then smoking the cigarettes he swore he wouldn’t touch again.

Somehow, the entire afternoon passed him by and when Alfie finally calmed down enough to sit down and watch a movie, the doorbell rang again.

“Alright, that’s it!” he roared, certain that this time Campbell had somehow managed to make up a reason and come back to arrest him.

Drug charges, you see, were something of a slippery thing; at least when it came to Alfie Solomons. It was a mutual thorn in his and Campbell’s respective sides. Difficult to prove his involvement in, at least that’s what Alfie’s lawyer claimed on the last trial.

Criminal activity, on the other hand… Well, that one had been well-proven and Alfie went down for it for four long years. Would have gotten more, had it not been for Tommy Shelby’s fancy lawyer and a favour that Alfie was still trying to forget ever happened.

But now he had a pretty good chance of these drug charges going away forever—a new thorn in the Inspector’s side, to be sure. Which was why you could say Alfie was a little on edge even without the taunting and the surprise visits.

“I’ll have ya fuckin’ arrested, ya limpin’ old cunt!” were the exact words Alfie shouted as soon as he opened the door, the recipients of his threats being two little girls in witch costumes and their chaperone—a pretty brunette, also in a matching witch costume.

Which was when Alfie’s tired brain connected the dots. Children. Trick-or-treating. Halloween.

“Yeah, fuck, I’m… I’m so sorry, listen,” he muttered, rubbing his hand across his face and trying to at least make up a good reason for the outburst.

He had none.

“No!” the woman exclaimed, though she wasn’t angry; embarrassed, maybe. But surprisingly not angry. “We’re… sorry. We’re gonna go. Come on, girls.” She put her arms around the girls protectively, though Alfie doubted the little shits needed any.

They looked up at him with two identical grins, both no doubt thoroughly amused at his swearing.

“Wait, no, wait… Fuck’s sake, that’s… I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else, yeah, I’ve been through some rough patch lately, you could say, that’s…” As he rambled, Alfie retreated inside the house only to emerge with a random assembly of things that in no way could ever be considered suitable for Halloween treats.

Therefore, in both girls' baskets landed, in that order, two decorative Granny Smith apples made of recycled glass, a pack of watch batteries, Marlboro lights (slightly opened), and a small bag of dog treats.

All three uninvited guests were looking at him now like one would at an utter lunatic, though the youngest of the three was simultaneously completely taken by the strangeness of the man before her.

“Thank you… so much,” the woman stuttered then, unable to say anything else. “Girls, please thank the nice man,” she added unconvincingly.

Both girls exclaimed excited “thank you’s”, obviously having been treated enough for one evening—both by the ensemble of creative swear words and the cigarettes they would no doubt trade for something awesome at school.

“Yeah, listen, I am sorry,” Alfie said once more, feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious. “No local kids come ‘ere for Halloween, alright, and there’s a good reason for it, I suppose…”

“Yeah, and what’s that?” one of the girls, the smaller, immediately wanted to know.

The older was still eyeing the dog treats, but as she saw no dog, she tried to look into the weird man’s house. She expected it to be even weirder on the inside.

“Lydia, that’s enough,” the woman chastised the curious one, rubbing her own cheek in a nervous tick and smearing the dark painted freckles. “Thank you—”

“Aye, ‘cause it’s haunted, innit?” Alfie chose to entertain the question, and entirely seriously, too.

As soon as he said it, the younger girl gasped and grabbed the older one by the hand.

“Yeah, right,” the older one said, suddenly defiant enough to disobey her… mother? Was it their mother? Alfie wondered…

In any case, the older girl entirely ignored the silent plea the woman had given her and instead, she stepped a little closer towards Alfie.

“Who’s the ghost?” the older girl asked, in that sort of demanding tone only children on the verge of becoming teenagers could muster.

“I am,” Alfie murmured in a raspy voice, again completely serious.

The girl took a step back and the younger one shrieked. The unexpected noise managed to finally wake up Alfie’s otherwise retired Bullmastiff, and as the giant hound tilted his massive head back and howled for no reason at all, all three unexpected visitors shrieked together.

All of them at once fled Alfie’s porch, their final goodbye being the man’s raspy laughter that followed them all the way down to the beach.

The devil came to Margate. Alfie was pretty much convinced that was how everyone else referred to his recent arrival to the coast. Actually, to be clear, the devil never really left. He just rented out his property, in which he now so shamelessly hid from the rest of the world.

No, not his house, that one was always cluttered and too personal for renting. You see, Alfie had many properties scattered around London and the coast—which was why he supposed the tax people had so much trouble tracking down his actual income.

One of those properties was a cosy shop just on the corner behind the main street. Alfie rented it to a tiny old lady who turned it into a used bookstore—nothing less in demand in Margate, to be sure.

Profits were minimal, but Alfie was prepared to forgive the rent from time to time for two reasons—he loved hanging around the place, and also his tennant was positively vicious.

Alfie was positively enamoured with the evil old thing. He often remarked they would have been married in another life (at which he either received a scowl or a slap across the head).

(She really reminded him of his grandmother sometimes.)

Mrs. O’Brien was Irish in the strictest sense of the word. She despised the English and everything about them, as she often remarked to Alfie. She often let him know, too, that his only redeeming quality was him being Jewish, at which he only laughed because he really didn’t know what to say to that.

(The strong association with his evil bat of a grandmother continued.)

To be perfectly honest, he often said to her to go the fuck back upstairs if she so hated Margate, but then she always dropped the subject (or a book or a cup or whatever else she might have been holding while losing the argument). Sometimes Alfie liked to think she was a wanted woman in Ireland, which really would explain so much about her.

Mrs. O’Brien, he strongly suspected, was either widowed by choice or never married at all. The choice in the matter could have clearly been murder, as one time while going through the mess at the backroom and searching for the invoices past due, Alfie found a gun in one of the drawers. It was an old one, a Beretta Laramie as he later learned through Google. The name, while rather romantic, made Alfie think his unusual friendship with the woman might not have been as odd as he used to think.

Safe to say, Mrs. O’Brien was no sitting duck. The next time Alfie looked through the drawer, the gun had been removed.

That particularly rainy October afternoon, Alfie came to the bookstore with a clear goal to bother Mrs. O’Brien. He told himself it was to collect rent, but truth be told, he needed a distraction. After that lousy Halloween evening, his thoughts were still riddled with annoyance at strange children and nosy inspectors.

“Aight, luv, how ya doin’ you beautiful thing?!” Alfie hollered as soon as he came through the door, knowing full-well that the cure for his annoyance was usually to annoy someone back.

As expected, Mrs. O’Brien scowled at him from behind the counter, where she sat on the high chair and read Chaucer. Intimidating as she was through her choice of words, the old witch was only five feet tall.

“What do ya want?” she barked, begrudgingly accepting Alfie leaning in and kissing her cheek.

“Got somethin’ for my favourite gal, don’t I?” he replied and produced a small box from the bakery across the street.

He would have been a fool to have come empty-handed.

Mrs. O’Brien put down her book and pretended to still hate him, but as she inspected the contents of the box, her eyes shined.

“Well then,” she agreed begrudgingly at her own landlord’s presence in his own establishment before she bit down on the French lemon tartlet.

Continuing not being a fool, Alfie got her the one with caramelised sugar on top.

With the dragon subdued for a good minute, Alfie went around the shop and got lost in the old books. With his tennant’s general unfriendliness and the particularly dark ambience, the bookstore was pretty much always quiet. That’s what Alfie was counting on, but like always, life decided to serve him with a big, fat disappointment.

The bell above the door rang and both Alfie and Mrs. O’Brien looked towards it with equal measures of surprise. In from the rain came two girls, both wearing identical yellow macs that dripped water everywhere they stepped.

“Oi!” Mrs. O’Brien put down the cake and wiped her mouth, all in one swift motion to race to the door and stop the children from doing any further damage to the layer of dust in the bookstore; so carefully accumulated over the years.

“Where ya both t’ink yer headin’?!” she shouted. “Now! Look at dat! That’s water everywhere!

Alfie still stood by the tallest bookcase and held a book opened before him, pretending to read and not spy on the situation.

“Excuse us,” the taller of the girls said and took off her hood. “Our aunt is just across the street. She told us to wait inside if we could.”

“Yes,” the smaller one interjected. “In case there are any perverts out.”

“That’s not what she said!” the older chastised her sister in a hushed voice.

“Oh, look!” The smaller one ignored her completely and pointed to Alfie, who immediately closed the book and tried to dive into the dark passageway in between the bookshelves.

Another conversation with the little shits was the last thing he wanted.

“He’s here!” the girl announced for the world to see. “I told you he’s not a ghost.”

“No, I told you that,” the older one sighed.

To Alfie’s dismay, Mrs. O’Brien said nothing to that, for as much as she was an unfriendly old thing, she also never passed on the opportunity to be a nuisance to him.

“Maggie, can we stay? I’m cold,” the younger girl complained.

“Oh, fine!” Mrs. O’Brien then exclaimed, as if the decision was hers to make anyway. “Just don’t you two touch anythin’! These books are very old, ya know.”

“How old?” the younger one wanted to know.

“Very. Now, ya can hang the coats ‘ere, just don’t make a mess of it.”

Alfie heard the girls do as they were asked and he observed from behind the bookshelves as they walked around, both equally curious about the strange place they found themselves in. And strange it was indeed, starting from the old ceiling lamps that gave very little light altogether, finishing on the stuffed vulture placed on the bookshelf right behind the cash register counter.

The vulture, Alfie often thought, must have been a relative of his tennant’s, as both in their nature brightened up only at the perspective of a meal.

When he finally emerged from behind the shelves, both girls were still looking around with eyes wide open. Nothing in the shop, however, seemed more fascinating than the strange man they met last night.

“We’ve decided to stay,” the younger girl informed him.

“Hm,” Alfie hummed and scratched his beard. “Right, I can see that.”

“You’re not a pervert, are you?” she asked.

“Afraid not, no,” he smirked.

“Lydia!” The older girl smacked her on the shoulder.

“Ow!” Lydia, undeterred, smacked her sister right back. “What?!”

“Stop saying ‘pervert’ to people!”

Alfie cleared his throat then and both girls looked at him, now a little less sure of themselves. Mrs. O’Brien ignored them all and continued to munch on her tartlet.

“So,” Alfie said then to break up their quarrel, “Maggie,” he pointed to the older one who nodded, “and Lydia.” The smaller one nodded as well. “Right, well, I’m Alfie. This here is my shop. You two can stay as long as you like, ‘cause the way I figure I probably owe ya for last night.”

The girls looked at him with suspicion and Alfie returned the sentiment, for personally he had no idea how to manage small children.

“Right, you want some coffee?” he asked Maggie.

“I’m twelve,” she huffed.

“Sure, yeah,” Alfie hummed, then turned to Lydia with raised eyebrows. She nodded eagerly at the offer, obviously excited to be included in something adult.

“Jesus Christ,” Maggie sighed, “she’s seven! You can’t give her coffee.”

“Yeah, why not?”

“‘Cause she won’t grow!”

Alfie squinted at her and finally shrugged, accepting that as fact.

“Suit yourselves.”

But before he could go to the back to put the kettle on, the bell above the door sounded again. In came the woman from last night and Alfie froze a little, suddenly not so sure what to do with himself.

“Good lord, we haven’t ‘ad a crowd like that since the whale!” Mrs. O’Brien exclaimed and rushed to help the woman with her grocery bag—not because she especially cared, but because her red mac spread rainwater everywhere much like the girls’ had before.

“What whale?” Lydia immediately wanted to know.

“Oh,” her aunt noticed Alfie then and he caught her attention immediately. “It’s you.”

Alfie cleared his throat, unable to settle on the response.

“What whale!” Lydia exclaimed and Mrs. O’Brien shot her a disapproving look.

“Well, all right little missy! Calm down,” she said. “In 1973, a whale washed ashore. It was quite the event, I’ll have ya know.”

“You weren’t even here in 1973,” Alfie scoffed.

“Aye, an’ ya weren’t even a twinkle in yer father’s eye, so what? I know things!” Mrs. O’Brien waved her hand dismissively and the girls giggled.

“Well, I…” the woman looked around, appropriately confused by this all. “I’m so sorry if we have disturbed you—”

“It’s his bookstore,” Maggie informed her sharply and pointed at Alfie. “He said we could wait out the rain.”

“Aye, then ye’d be waitin’ all night, it’s always like this in October,” Mrs. O’Brien complained and earned herself a sharp look from Alfie, one which she thoroughly ignored.

“I was just about to make coffee,” Alfie pointed to the back room.

“No, we don’t want to impose,” the woman replied, but when she turned around, the girls were already gone—hiding behind the tall bookshelves and giggling about something.

“Seems you ain’t got a choice,” Alfie smirked.

“If they’re bothering you…”

“Naah, that’s no bother. Now come on, I was a proper arse last night, right, the least I owe ya is a cup of coffee.”

The woman nodded and hung her coat, visibly relieved she didn’t have to go out into the cold October rainstorm just yet.

Since that was settled, Alfie went to make the coffees.

“Sooner or later ya gonna have to tell me what the hell happened last night, eh?” Mrs. O’Brien muttered to Alfie as he put the kettle on.

“Hmm.”

“Dontcha ‘hmm’ at me lad, I’m old enough to be yer grandmother!”

“Naah, don’t say that now, my grandmother was a lovely woman.”

Mrs. O’Brien scoffed and busied herself with finding some clean cups.

“Nothin’ happened, right,” Alfie grumbled, “just a misunderstanding.”

“Aye, that misunderstanding seems to like the looks of ya.”

Alfie looked behind his shoulder and his eyes met the aunt’s. It seemed like she was watching him from afar and now she turned around abruptly, cheeks slightly pink with embarrassment.

“Shut up.” Alfie turned around too and Mrs. O’Brien cackled like an old bog witch.

Alfie finally approached the aunt with two cups in his hands, leaving his insufferable tennant to figure out her own drink. But the suggestion she made stayed at the back of his head, now clouding his judgement entirely.

Five seconds ago he couldn’t care less about the woman and now all he could notice was how her hair curled from the rain and how good she looked browsing these musty old books, mouthing the titles from their spines.

“Oh! Thank you,” she smiled at him brightly when Alfie handed her the cup.

“Yeah, I didn’t know how ya like it…”

“Black.”

“Well, that’s good then, ‘cause we don’t have milk anyway.”

She laughed and, despite his better judgement, Alfie felt a little proud.

“If ya like bad coffee an’ half-decent books, you should come more often!” Mrs. O’Brien then shouted from behind the cash register, at which Alfie turned around to glare at her.

The girls’ aunt laughed again, still a little nervous. Alfie turned to her, suddenly emboldened by the rain and by the girls happily running around the shop, making the place more alive than it had been for years.

“Yeah, but I think so too,” he said, voice lower so that Mrs. O’Brien couldn’t overhear—not for the lack of trying on her part, to be sure.

“What?” the aunt asked, a little incredulous.

“You should come by more often,” he explained.

Either there was something in that coffee or he was going crazy, but he could swear her eyes sparkled.

“Is that so?” she asked, now obviously teasing him a little.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t mind the noise?”

“Nah.”

“We could come by tomorrow, I suppose,” she mused.

“Come,” he assured her. “As often as you’d like.”

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fanfiction #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders x reader #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine

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murderousginger · 2 years

Text

When Will He Learn? Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: smut. Sex. Oral. Blood. Brutality. Filth. Murder. They're criminals, guys, they do bad things. And boy, did Alfie do bad things.

Word count: 4095

"You made the gossip rag, treacle," Alfie hummed amusedly as he sat at the breakfast table, thumbing through the newspaper. "Page 6."

You froze holding your morning coffee, in nothing but his button up shirt, standing across the table. Your bare feet rooted to the wood beneath you as you tried to breathe. Your father always warned you not to make the gossip column or else you'd ruin the family name.

"What does it say?" You said as you licked your dry lips.

Alfie looked at you over the paper and lowered it just enough for you to see his wolfish smile. He let go of one side and revealed his knee, patting it slowly.

"Come sit and we'll read it together, pet."

You floated around the table and sat on his knee without a thought, leaning back into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you to grab the end of the newspaper and lift it back up to read.

You relaxed, content to be encircled by him. You had been hiding out in his home all weekend after leaving the benefit and it felt more like home than your father's home ever did. There was no tiptoeing or niceties; there was only acceptance of what you were and what you wanted to be. Alfie had been your best friend for years and already knew your quirks long before he fell into your bed. The intimacy was always there, the sex only heightened it.

"That asshole fiance is calling for you, pet," Alfie said as he picked up his cane and straightened his clothes.

He extended his hand.

"You told me to fix it," he said. "That might take some time. Do you want to come with me or play house while I bury that piss poor bloke?"

You grabbed his hand without hesitation.

"Take me home, Alfie."

You sipped your coffee as you let the memory dissipate. He cleared his throat and squinted at the article.

"Says here that your father and fiance have been looking for you since the big night of the benefit when you slipped away by cover of darkness."

Alfie nuzzled into your hair for a moment, giving you goosebumps as his hot breath grazed your neck.

"They're calling you wild, love," he purred. "If they only knew what you've been doing with me the last few nights."

"Are you calling me wild, Mr. Solomons?" You exhaled, your heart frozen in fear of his answer.

"No," he whispered. "I'm calling you free. There's a vast difference, love. One the likes of them wouldn't understand."

The emotion in your chest swelled as you did your best to hide a smile against the rim of your cup. You felt Alfie lean back in the chair as he cleared his throat.

"Blah, blah, blah, scandal as the future husband searches high and low," he resumed reading. "Piss poor job searching, in my opinion. You're right here in my lap. Blah, blah, blah. Father refuses to comment. Interesting. I got a message from daddy dearest just this morning asking to meet with me at his place of business."

"What are you going to do?" You asked, startled.

You whipped your head around to look at him. Alfie kissed your shoulder before looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Why wouldn't I visit with dear old dad about his missing daughter?" He asked. "As your oldest friend, I am just as worried as he is. What could that terrible future husband of yours have done to make such a good girl disappear so?"

"So that's your plan, is it?" You gasped, delighted and horrified.

"I can't bloody imagine what you mean, pet," Alfie scoffed, bouncing his leg to bump you onto your feet. "Now go play with Cyril or laze about while I go meet with daddy."

You looked at him for a moment.

"Are you planning my day?" You asked soberly.

Alfie's eyes darted to you before softening as he laid the paper on the table.

"Not in the slightest," he said softly before opening his arms to you.

You sat your cup down before returning to his knee, this time straddling his leg. Alfie grabbed your face before he kissed you softly, pulling back to meet your eyes.

"You can come and go as you like, dove," he said, kissing you again. "You can flit and fly in and out of my home and life without so much as a care. I've told you before, I'm yours. You've never said you're mine. I won't treat you as such."

Alfie let go of your chin, his sweet taste still on your lips. His lips curled into a playful smile.

"But if you get yourself captured again," he teased, "can't say it won't delay any plans to make your freedom a more permanent solution."

He motioned toward the door.

"Go on then, pet," he said as he brushed you off of him. "Stop distracting a old dirty man before I forget the thing I promised I'd do."

"Somehow I doubt you would forget to break my engagement, Alfie," you teased as you walked away.

"That girl? The nice one from the wealthy family?" Alfie asked loudly as he picked his newspaper back up. "Sweet thing. Great in bed. Heard she moved to France with some prick fashion designer husband."

—-

"Mr. Solomons," your father said as Alfie shooed the secretary away and walked through the door of his office.

Your father was a distinguished looking man, with his hair gracefully fading to gray and his suit perfectly fit to his body. His appearance and posture screamed old wealth, the kind that people were raised into and took for granted would always be there. He motioned for Alfie to sit. The secretary closed the door behind him.

"Right," Alfie nodded as he collapsed into the chair opposite your father's desk. "Seen the papers this morning. I can only imagine what anger you're hiding now, huh dad? With that girl of yours causing such a scene."

"Do you know where she is, Alfie?" He said, rubbing his temples. "She's proved her point and made a mess of things. It's time to come home and do her duty. Lord knows she's made the family the talk of London for the next month."

"When I left the benefit she was standing with that useless French fiance of hers, wasn't she?" Alfie spat. "Right piece of work, he is. Never trust a man with that soft of hands."

"You must know something," he retorted. "I know my daughter had … a fondness … for you."

"We have been friends for a long time, yeah," Alfie snorted. "Or are you implying something more impure, there, dad?"

"Don't call me that," he snapped. "The agreements have been made. Just tell her to come home."

"Right," Alfie said as he tapped his cane on the floor before standing up. "Well possibly, just a word of advice from a simple baker, maybe not trade your child like cattle and she wouldn't run away, yeah?"

"It's what she was bred to do, Mr. Solomons," he said exasperated. "That's what a daughter does. She furthers her family through marriage and children."

"Ah. Thoroughbred. Good thing you have such a pretty mare, then, aye?" Solomon grunted as he turned to leave.

"Your people believe in kosher, isn't that right?" He spat as he slammed his hands on his desk and stood. "No matter how respected an animal is during the process, its life is still to breed and die."

Alfie stopped and turned around, giving the father of the person he loved a long look.

"That's the thing about this conversation, innit," Alfie said. "We're talking about a person, not livestock."

Alfie turned back around and opened the office door.

"My people aren't missing a daughter," Alfie called over his shoulder. "Have a good day, sir!"

—-

Alfie found you rolling on the floor with Cyril near the fireplace of the sitting room, giggling as the giant dog wallowed on you.

"Pants?" Alfie asked smiling as he tapped Cyril with his cane. "Where did you find trousers that fit you in this house? You'd swim in mine, much like that shirt you've stolen."

"Ollie must have left some clothes in the guest room," you giggled while you kissed Cyril on the head before standing up. "I needed something that wasn't a ballgown to sneak into a store and grab some new clothes."

"Dove," Alfie protested. "If they tell your father–"

"I know the owner," you said as you pushed yourself into his arms. "And I paid her extra, in case our pleasant shallow friendship wasn't enough. I can't stay in your shirt forever."

Alfie snorted.

"No one in this house would dare stop you from prancing naked if you'd like, love," he said. "I'd prefer it, in truth. Might not get anything done…"

"Alfie," you said sweetly, pressing closer until your lips barely touched his. "Pet."

"Yes, dove," Alfie whispered, licking his lips nervously, which also wetted yours.

"What if I were just to–" you leaned back just enough to look down and pop the shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor as your bra became exposed. You raised your hand to your face in mock surprise.

"I can get another shirt," Alfie said as he leaned forward.

You placed your pointer finger under his chin, pushing his gaze from your breasts to meet your eyes.

"Mr. Solomons," Ollie announced loudly as he scrambled into the house. "I've brought the car for your meeting –"

You looked over Alfie's shoulder to see Ollie's face go white as he froze in the parlor, looking into the sitting room at the two of you.

"Ollie," Alfie growled, slowly building volume. "Of all the terrible timing you've ever had–"

"What meeting?" You asked, cutting him off. "Can I come?"

You winked at Ollie, allowing him to back away slowly with a nod and head back to the car as Alfie's attention refocused on you.

"What?" Alfie said as his eyebrows bunched together. "No."

Alfie exhaled before cupping your face in his hands.

"Dove," he said. "This isn't some rum deal. I've told you, I'm a very bad man. I'm to meet some very bad people today. I can be trotting you around in all your–"

He looked you up and down.

"This," he emphasized. "They'll look at you wrong and I'll have to kill them and then all my bad business plans are fucking done for."

You giggled.

"It would keep them on their toes," you teased, playfully bouncing up on your toes to kiss his nose.

Alfie sighed.

"That is a level of crazy that doesn't last long for business, pet," he said tiredly. "I try to be erratic, but not bloody insane."

"But you'd be insane?" You asked, looking into his eyes. "For me?"

"You could nod just right and I'd leave a wake of bodies behind you, no questions asked," he purred, nuzzling your nose with his before he let out a wheezy chuckle. "Bloody hell, I'd leave a wake of bodies behind you for so much as a bad eye turned your way. You needn't know it even happened."

You softened, losing your teasing smile as you looked back into his eyes and reached for his hand on your cheek.

"Do you love me, Alfie Solomons?" You asked. "I know you've always cared. Even before the trysts. But love?"

"Since I was a boy," Alfie said solemnly.

"Alfie –"

"I've never asked it of you," he said, cutting you off. "I'm just a man, waiting on a woman to know what she wants. And what she wants is to not marry a bloody French designer."

Alfie placed a soft kiss on your lips before letting you go and taking a step back.

"Now," he cleared his throat. "I've got a meeting to attend. I'll be back for dinner and to tuck you in, dove."

Alfie winked.

"But then I have another meeting to attend," Alfie walked backward to the parlor. "Amuse yourself without me for a few hours, pet. I'll be back."

—-

Dinner was good; you couldn't say you hated or loved anything about it. You weren't even sure what you ate. Everything tasted bland. Your eyes were only on Alfie.

You had easily fallen back into Alfie's bed the entire stay in his home. He had set you up in his guest room the night you left the benefit, handing you a button up shirt to sleep in and promising to get you new clothes from the maid or staff in the morning.

You had taken the shirt from him and turned around, wordlessly asking him to undo your dress. He did so without question, and quickly bid you goodnight and left the room before you could drop your clothes in front of him.

You changed into his shirt and left the guest room to go to his room and crawl into his bed. He sighed as you curled into his shoulder. You squinted and could barely make out the look of frustration on his face in the dark.

"Dove," he said quietly. "I didn't bring you to my home to trade one set of chains for another. I don't have expectations of you."

"How very noble," you teased as you settled into his arm more. "Have you ever thought that I like being in your bed, and that without a threat on my wellbeing I wouldn't have stopped finding myself there?"

"Who threatened you?" Alfie asked, turning to meet you nose to nose. "Your father?"

"You spent the entire benefit teasing me," you said as you placed your lips on his. "You took the piss out of Jean every chance you got."

"Which was constantly," Alfie interrupted. "Fucking frenchie has baby soft hands. Can't trust a man like that–"

"Alfie," you started. "You have me wrapped around you in your bed. Bloody stop talking about men and take me."

And he had. You both had enjoyed every moment; and much like how the trysts started, there were no rules or notions. You were both adults and friends and that was where it was.

"You said you have another meeting tonight," you said before you sipped your red wine. "Are you going to tuck" you paused, "me in, Mr. Solomons?"

"I do and I am," Alfie said. "I've never wanted dessert more."

"Can I join your meeting?" You teased as you stood from the table and crossed the floor to meet him.

Alfie pushed back his chair from the table and you lowered yourself to straddle his leg.

"I promise to be a good girl," you pouted. "I'll sit and be pretty and properly terrified of you when need be."

"I've no doubt you'll be good, pet," he purred as he grabbed your jaw, squeezing just enough to direct your full attention to his eyes. "But you think I'm just a rum runner, and that's not half of my dealings. I've kept you away from the dark things I do, love, and tonight will be bloody."

"Are you an animal?" You said with a lazy smile, your eyes lighting up. "'A fucking monster when allowed,' you said. I'm not afraid of you being filthy, Alfie. I like it."

"You've no fucking clue, pet," Alfie growled as he released your jaw and pushed you back.

He lifted you to sit on the table and pushed you back to lay on it. You pushed his plate off the table with a clang, earning a growl and sharp look from Alfie as he ripped at the trousers to free your legs. A moment later you gasped as he plunged his fingers into you.

"Don't break my fucking things like a bad girl," he warned as he pushed your legs apart and dove his tongue into you, earning your back to arch and a loud moan to erupt from your lips.

He pinched your inner thigh as his tongue swirled, giving you a delicious dichotomy of pain and pleasure. An orgasm rolled through you in moments as he pulled your leg over his shoulder. You bucked against him at the overwhelming feeling and he pulled away, standing with your leg still over his shoulder.

"Forgive me, dove," he said as he wiped his hand across his glistening beard before slapping your thigh, gripping it roughly as he sank into you. "Time is not on our side tonight."

After a few soft moans as he eased into you a few times, he leaned forward and began pounding you into the table. You arched in ecstasy as your knee met your chest and your thoughts disappeared into babbling. Alfie gritted his teeth and went faster as he pinned your wrists above your head.

"That's it, dove," he growled into your ear. "Fall undone. Be a complete mess for me."

You both came with enviable quickness as you wrapped your free leg around his middle to keep him inside you. Alfie collapsed on your chest for a moment, breathing hard.

"Do you have to leave?" You asked, out of breath.

"Fucking hell," he groaned. "I'm never going to get anything done if you stay here."

"Is that a marriage proposal?" You teased as you kissed him roughly, tasting yourself on his tongue.

"I'd lose my business," he said as he left you at the table to rearrange himself and straighten his clothes. "We'd never leave the fucking house and we'd starve. Ollie would refuse to do more than leave food on the doorstep."

He smoothed his shirt before leaning back over to kiss you voraciously.

"But fuck, I'd love it," he chuckled as he kissed your forehead and pulled away. "I'll be back tonight, pet, and after a good bath I might just ruin your sleep for more."

"Or–" You started as you lifted yourself onto your elbows.

"Enough, " Alfie snapped, eyes hardening. "You aren't coming with me."

He reached for his cane as he walked out of the dining room.

—

It wasn't hard to wait a few minutes and then follow him. He met Ollie on the sidewalk and they walked rather than taking a car, so you knew they had to be going to the bakery nearby. The warehouse was too far away from the housing districts.

You changed into one of your new dresses, a simple dark green one, and covered yourself with one of his hats and a coat. You did your best to keep your Oxfords from making noise along the trek.

Ollie scrambled to keep up with Alfie's quick, long strides as the men spoke in whispers along the way.

Sure enough, they stopped at the bakery, a front for Alfie's rum business, and went in. You rounded the back, intent to slip in from the other entrance.

You nodded to a few of the bakers as you slipped in the dark corners of the building to get to Alfie's office. If you looked like you belonged, no one would question you.

The building was deceptively big, with the little bakery in the front and many rooms behind it. The kitchen where actual bread was made, the rooms with various stages of rum, and the storage room of rum were all a maze that no one realized existed.

You placed your ear to Alfie's dark office before realizing that it was empty. Muffled voices were coming from the storage room.

You opened the door, fully knowing that the barrels were stacked in such a way that the door was not visible to the people inside – barrels lined the entrance and made a tunnel to an open area.

You could hear a thud, like someone hitting a bag of flour. When you peeked around the corner, your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Can you smell her on me, frenchie?" Alfie growled, landing a punch square to Jean's jaw. "Better yet, can you taste her?"

Alfie licked his lips before shoving his finger into the man's mouth, hooking his cheek to lift the man's head before removing his finger and landing another punch.

Your fiance's head bobbled with the shock of the punches. He was tied to a chair and looked like he had been roughed up previously to get there. His mouth opened like a fish as his head wobbled on his neck.

"Stay with me, frenchie," Alfie said as he patted his cheek roughly. "I asked you, can you taste her?"

"Please," the man cried. "Please, I'll leave like you asked. I'll leave."

"Too late for that now," Alfie said gruffly. "You already pissed me off. I tried buying you off. I tried to scare you with a threat. Some men only understand one thing."

Alfie continued to punch him as you watched in horror. Ollie was standing a few feet away from the scene, still as a stone as he held Alfie's hat and coat.

You must have made a little noise. You saw Ollie's eyes shoot to your hiding place. He gritted his jaw before his eyes widened and he urged you to leave.

"Ollie," Alfie said calmly between punches to Jean's stomach. "Go see which baker is peeking, will you?"

"I don't think–"

Alfie flew around at tremendous speed to your hiding place, pulling you onto the floor in front of him by your arm. You collapsed at his feet.

"What did I tell you?" Alfie gritted out, his tone low.

"You told me not to come," you whimpered, looking up at your fiance's limp body.

You hung your head.

"No no no no no, love," Alfie said as he kneeled and grabbed your chin to raise your eyes to meet his. "Look at me. Look at all of me. This is it, love. This is who I am."

A tear fell down your cheek as he squinted at you for a long moment. His eyes were wild.

"You thought that I was soft because I was soft with you," he hummed. "No, pet. You made me soft. I'm a very bad man that does very bad things. You said to fix it. I'm fixing it the way I know how, with blood, right?"

"I told you I'm a fucking monster when allowed, didn't I, pet?" He said softly. "These same hands that caress your skin have blood on them. Will you shrink away from me, knowing fully what I am?"

"You're scaring me, Alfie," you said, pulling away. He held you still.

"I'm not a good man."

He fell quiet. The only noise in the room was Jean's labored breathing. Alfie sighed.

"Ollie," he said evenly. "Get two of the men to throw him in the river. Tie stones to his body so it won't be found."

"No," you bark shortly, starting to weep. "His family deserves a burial."

Alfie looked at you long and hard.

"He," you stuttered. "He enjoys gambling."

Your eyes bulged as your hand flew to your mouth in shock of yourself. Alfie watched you closely.

"Big tables or little tables, pet?" Alfie asked.

"I'm not sure," you wavered. "It was always in a back room."

"Big tables, then," Alfie said to himself. "Right. Now is the time to go home, pet, if you don't want to see my business."

Your throat went dry, but you did not move. Time stopped as you both looked in each other's eyes. Alfie made a small nod as he stood and dusted his knees. He turned and pulled out a gun from his waist and shot your fiance in the stomach. You squeaked, your eyes wide as Jean slumped in the chair.

"Ollie," Alfie said. "Have the boys take him to the Chinese and drop him in an alley."

Ollie nodded. Alfie gave him a look and Ollie opened his mouth to protest, his eyes shooting between you both, until you nodded slowly at him. Ollie sighed, but handed you Alfie's coat and hat and left.

"Alfie," you said in a small voice as you looked at your dead fiance, his blood pooling around him.

The casket would be closed, you thought, as you saw the swelling and bruising continue to form on his face. The papers would flood with stories about the great fashion designer who died from gambling in the Chinese dens.

You tore your eyes away to look at Alfie, who had been given a rag from Ollie before he left. Alfie wiped his hands, trying to mop up the blood, before folding the rag and dabbing his his forehead, smearing more blood on his face.

"Yes, dove?"

"Kiss me?"

#storytime with murderousginger #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders

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buttercupsandboys · 1 year

Text

Sunshine & Rainbows

Alfie Solomons x Livy (OFC) — Chapter 14

18+ NSFW - minors don’t interact 🙅🏻‍♀️

MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

CHAPTER 14: descending into madness

Summary: Alfie meets with Bernard and discovers Livy is missing. It doesn’t go well.

TW: language typical of Peaky Blinders, violence and angst

Word count: 4376

A/N: It’s been a while, so here’s a quick recap! (Or click here to read Chapter 13 again!)

Alfie and Livy were having a private moment by the Cut when they were interrupted by Thomas, and Livy learns the men are working with Bernard McCall from the High Rip Gang—the man responsible for her abuse and trafficking as a child. Livy panics and flees with the help of Polly and Esme.

This chapter starts with a small time jump. We’re back at the Cut, only this time, it’s from Alfie’s point of view…

"Livy, I need you to know that I—"

… that I love you.

Fuck, he was so close to saying the words that had evaded him for weeks, but as always, Thomas Shelby has the worst possible timing.

"We need to talk."

"No, we don't. Leave before I shoot you in the face."

Alfie refuses to turn around, his broad shoulders shielding Livy from view, his fingers gripping her hips as he contemplates pulling the trigger.

It’s fucking tempting. After a long week, the last thing he wants to do is talk business. Especially not now, with Livy in his arms, staring up at him with wide eyes and swollen lips. How someone like her finds pleasure in his company, Alfie will never understand. She deserves better, surely, but it’s too late for that. She’s his now, and he’s going to finish telling her how much he loves her just as soon as he can get rid of—

"Bernard and his boys are making a move."

Oh, for fucks sake.

Alfie knew getting involved with those useless cunts from up north would end up biting him in the arse. He curses, slamming his fist into a crate, wishing he wasn’t right all the damn time.

"He's on his way from Liverpool. He knows about Sabini and would like to renegotiate."

"Yeah, I bet he does," Alfie grumbles as he helps Livy down, his frown deepening when her heels narrowly avoid a murky puddle. It’s yet another reminder that she doesn’t belong in this filthy fucking city, but he’ll have to tolerate it a bit longer. There will be no getting out of this meeting now, not with Liverpool proving such a valuable asset.

Begrudgingly, he admits that expanding their network has been profitable. But at what cost? Bernard is no fool; he demands a premium for access to the docks, and now that Sabini’s gone, Alfie can only imagine what else he’ll ask for.

Or at least … that's what he would be doing if he wasn’t so fucking distracted.

Alfie prides himself on staying two steps ahead of his associates and rarely enters negotiations without knowing what the other party hopes to achieve. It’s what sets him apart; while his capacity for violence is legendary, along with his fiery temper, it’s his dangerous mind that’s responsible for his astonishing rise to power.

He’s astute, focused, and cunning.

But not tonight.

After being away from Livy and coming so close to confessing his love to her, he feels more like a nervous schoolboy than a criminal mastermind. Fucking hell. It’s taken him so long to get to this point, to find the courage to say what needs to be said, but with every passing minute, fear and doubt are creeping up his spine, the foreign emotions slowly consuming him.

Vaguely, he’s aware of taking Livy’s arm and leading her to a car, Cyril yapping at their heels, a cutting breeze chasing the setting sun, chilling without the familiar presence of his hat. But Alfie observes these things as if from a distance, still lost in thought.

I love you.

It shouldn’t be this hard to say, should it? They’re just fucking words, and he’s never been short of them before. In fact, he considers himself something of a master when it comes to weaponised conversation.

Maybe that’s the problem.

Alfie uses words to control, confuse, and manipulate; they’re like tiny foot soldiers in his one-man army. He’s confident on the battlefield, making deal or die offers with dangerous men, but here, with her … well, fuck.

As the streets fly by, a blur of grey and cobblestones, Alfie wonders what type of man he’d be if he hadn’t been hardened by life. Would sweet words—soft words, beautiful words, words a woman like Livy deserves to hear—roll as naturally off his tongue as the curses that pepper his speech? Would he have courted her, taken her to dinner at least, before fucking her at the goddamn breakfast table?

He’s never been prone to second-guessing himself, but as Thomas rambles on about Bernard, Alfie tallies his list of regrets. There’s so much he would do over if he could; fuck, he should have sought out Livy as soon as the war ended, protected her like he promised, instead of waiting for her to show up on his doorstep. If only he hadn’t been such a selfish bastard, she would never have set foot in the Eden Club, and those fucking wops would have never laid a hand on her.

Of course, Livy finds trouble wherever she goes, and under normal circumstances, Alfie would never allow himself to wallow in the past. But he’s not accustomed to feeling vulnerable or insecure—love is toying with his mind—-and she’s everything he never knew he wanted.

He’s afraid of losing her, scared of the moment when Livy comes to her senses and disappears from his life. Like a rainbow after a storm, here one minute, gone the next, leaving nothing behind but brightly coloured memories.

His chest clenches painfully at the thought, but Alfie quickly shuts it down. It won’t happen; he won’t let it. She’ll be back in Camden Town soon enough, and then he’ll take her somewhere, somewhere expensive, and tell her properly, be a fucking gentleman for once in his useless life—

“Esme.”

Livy’s soft voice catches him off guard, and Alfie finds himself blushing under his thick beard, grateful for the fading light. The car comes to a stop as he turns in his seat and fights to keep his expression blank.

“Probably putting the kids to bed," Thomas replies.

Alfie nods, avoiding her eyes, sure that if Livy looks too closely, she’ll see right through him. And now is not the time, not with Thomas Shelby watching on silently and Bernard McCall arriving any fucking minute.

"Why don't you go and say hello—alright, pet? I'll come and find you when we're done here.”

Time seems to freeze as he waits for her response, and there’s a strange tension in the air he would normally remark upon. But nothing about tonight feels normal, and he’s never felt less like himself as he hurries to help Livy out of the car, holding her close when she nearly trips over Cyril.

“Fucking mutt,” Alfie growls, his frustration bubbling over.

But to his surprise, his mild-mannered pup growls right back.

Alfie frowns at the odd behaviour, the hair on the back of his neck suddenly standing at attention. His instincts urge him to pull Livy close, to look deep into her golden eyes before she rushes off. But then her full lips brush his cheek, and Thomas is leading the way to the betting shop, and business is business, after all.

He lets her go.

“Right, Thomas, I think we both know this is a waste of fucking time.” Alfie is irate and can’t be bothered to hide it. “He wants a piece of London, and that ain’t fucking happening.”

“Of course not,” Thomas scoffs, pausing to light a cigarette before taking a seat behind his large desk. “But Bernard is … optimistic. Just talk to him, eh?”

“Talk to him,” Alfie repeats dryly, crossing his arms as he leans back in his chair. He hates everything about this fucking office; the trinkets and the smoke and, most of all, the smug fucking man sitting across from him. “Well, I know this is hard to believe, but I’m just about out of words tonight. So why don’t you stop dancing around and fill me in on your fucking plan?”

With Livy gone, Alfie has finally managed to gather his wits. Bernard is on his way because the Blinders and Jews are dividing up territory, and it’s so fucking obvious he can’t believe he didn’t see it earlier. But Thomas did—and judging from the look on his face, it can only mean one thing: a ridiculous, overly-ambitious plan.

And fuck, he’s too tired for this.

While part of him reluctantly admires Thomas for his initiative, and his ability to twist anything to his advantage, lately there have been rumours of Russians and Americans, politics and weapons, and silly things Alfie wants no fucking part of. Especially not now, with Livy in his life. It’s a ballache waiting to happen, and he has a bad feeling he’s already an unwilling pawn in one of Thomas Shelby’s games.

“We’re just buying time tonight, Alfie. That’s all. Send him back to Liverpool, let him find his head, and I’m sure we can all come to an agreement.”

“Fuck off, Thomas. Do I look like one of your dumb fucking brothers? I know you’re playing at something—“

Before Alfie can finish, they’re interrupted by a loud knock on the door.

“Come in,” announces Thomas, shooting Alfie a stern look.

Alfie grunts, eyeing a pretentious bronze horse from across the desk, fighting the urge to smash Thomas in the face with it.

His temper fails to improve when the door opens, revealing Arthur and Bernard. Now he’s stuck in a room with who he’s sure must be his three least favourite people on this fucking planet.

“Bernard,” greets Thomas. His tone is polite, but he doesn’t stand or offer his hand, and neither does Alfie. “Take a seat.”

Bernard doesn’t take offence. Instead he smiles, a crooked smile, revealing a prominent gold tooth.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replies, dropping into the seat next to Alfie and nodding when Thomas offers a whiskey. “Straight to business then, lads?”

Alfie huffs. “Well, here’s the thing, right. I recall us making a deal just the other week—did we not?” He strokes his beard before pointing accusingly at Bernard, shaking his finger at the older man.

“Yeah. Yeah, we did, mate. And yet here we are again, sharing air in this godless city.” Alfie’s voice drops dangerously. “So I’m guessing you have something of considerable importance to tell us. Unless you enjoy wasting my fucking time?”

“Wastin’ your time?” chuckles Bernard, sipping his drink and wiping his mouth with the back of his weathered hand. “Oh, that’s funny, that is.”

“Is it?” Alfie glances across at Thomas. “‘Cause I’m known for a lot of things, mate, but my sense of humour ain’t one of them.”

Arthur snorts from his place near the door, having witnessed Alfie’s ‘humour’ firsthand.

“Well, ‘ere’s the thing, big fella. When we was negotiatin’, you failed to mention your plan for the Italians.” Bernard’s smile disappears and is quickly replaced with a menacing scowl. “Now I can’t ‘elp but feel you’re wastin’ my fuckin’ time here, mate.”

Alfie isn’t easily baited, but he can feel his patience slipping away, his temper rising in its place. The more he thinks about it, the less he cares about Liverpool, and he’s not sure how much more he can tolerate from this ugly scouse fucker. Right now, all he wants is to be home with Livy, and he’s not afraid to break a few bones if it will hurry things along.

“Is that so? Well, don’t be shy then.” Alfie leans forward and looks Bernard straight in the eye, just inches from his face, daring him to look away. “Tell us what you want, treacle.”

Bernard refuses to back down. “A third of the Italian’s territory,” he snarls.

“A third of …” Alfie can’t help it; he throws his head back and laughs, a barking sound from deep in his chest, eyes crinkling with amusement. “Right, well, that ain’t ever going to happen, now is it? So thanks for coming. Now, why don’t you fuck right off—“

“I think what my colleague is trying to say”—Thomas gives Alfie a pointed look—“is that London is off the table. But you already know that, don’t you?”

Bernard narrows his eyes, jaw clenched as he waits for Thomas to continue. Alfie follows suit, wondering where the fuck he’s going with this.

“You’re a smart man, Bernard. You know you can’t maintain that kind of territory from Liverpool.” Thomas stands and looks out the window before turning back to face the others. “But you didn’t come here to talk about London.”

“Then what the fuck am I doin’ ‘ere? Since you know so fuckin’ much.”

Thomas reaches forward and places his palms on the desk. “Because we both know I’m a man of considerable resources.” He straightens up and inhales from his cigarette before pointing at Bernard, the smoke coiling between them. “And I have something you lost. Something you want back.”

And there it is, thinks Alfie.

The pieces are falling into place. Thomas Shelby has pulled a bargaining chip out of thin air, and Alfie would bet his left nut it’s because he needs Liverpool for more than his sad fucking gin.

He has a bad feeling about this …

But Bernard grins.

“There’s only one thing I want more than London.”

“Patience,” Thomas promises. “Go back to Liverpool. Give me 48 hours, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Bernard nods agreeably, leaving Alfie feeling like a third wheel with no clue what they’re talking about. But he knows better than to show his frustration and instead sits in stony silence, hands fisted by his side, fuming as Thomas wraps up the meeting.

But when the door closes, he explodes.

“What the fuck was that?” Alfie demands, coming to his feet, ready to wrap his fingers around Thomas’s scrawny little neck.

“Alfie,” he replies, raising his hands in peace. “I just needed to buy some time.”

“Yeah, you said that,” Alfie growls dangerously, stalking closer. “But time for what, mate?”

Thomas takes a cautious step backwards.

“To call in some favours. I want Liverpool, and I want Bernard out of the picture. It’ll be better for both of us.”

Alfie stares him down as he weighs up his options.

Beneath the whiskey and smoke, he can smell Shelby bullshit, and there’s no doubt in his mind Thomas would play him for a fool. The intelligent thing would be to keep pushing for more details—by any means necessary—before this whole mess has a chance to blow up in his face.

But he’s exhausted and just about out of fucks tonight, so for once, Alfie chooses the easy way out. Maybe he really is getting soft, but right now, he can’t find it in him to care. Not when he has other, more pleasurable, things on his mind.

“Right, Thomas. Well, as you know, I am a man of faith. So I’m going to let your blatant fucking lies slide—for now. But know this. I can smell your pikey nonsense a mile off, and I will only allow your little games for so long.”

Alfie steps back and collects his cane, absently reaching for his hat before remembering its fate. He curses, leaving Thomas with a final warning.

“Do not tempt me because I will not hesitate to end your measly excuse for a life.”

And with that, Alfie stalks out of the room, ready to collect Livy and finally get the fuck out of Small Heath.

“What the fuck do you mean she isn’t here?”

If Alfie thought Shelby men were infuriating, that was before coming up against Shelby women.

Esme leans against her battered door frame, arms crossed over her chest, shooting Alfie a look that would melt steel. Polly stands behind her, smoking a thin cigarette, looking bored.

But Livy is nowhere to be found.

“What are you deaf?” snaps Esme. “I told you she left earlier with your big oaf of a dog.”

His hand grips his cane as he silently counts to ten. Alfie isn’t the type to hit a woman, but he wonders if tonight will be the night he makes an exception.

“Listen, love. I’m just about out of fucking patience. So stop with the bullshit, yeah, and tell me what else you know before I knock it out of ya.”

Esme practically snarls, reminding him of one of the small yapping dogs he’s seen on Cyril’s walks; she looks ready to chew his ankle off when Polly intervenes.

“Look, Mr Solomons,” she proclaims, pushing Esme aside. “Livy left a half hour ago, said she was looking for you. That’s all we know.”

Alfie frowns and tries to hide the panic slowly rising in his chest. “Well, she didn’t fucking find me, now did she? Do you have any idea where she might fucking be?”

Polly shrugs, taking her time, inhaling from her cigarette before continuing. “Ask Thomas. He thinks he knows everything. Let him help you.”

Fucking hell.

At this point, Alfie is so tired he can barely stand, so angry he can barely speak, and so worried he can barely breathe. And now he has to drag his arse back down Watery Lane to enlist the help of Thomas fucking Shelby.

He wonders if this night could get any worse and then berates himself because of course it could. Fear settles in his gut, memories of Livy’s kidnapping fresh in his mind, the worst-case scenario increasingly possible.

Because how could she just get lost?

Lost …

The fear suddenly turns to ice, like glass shattering into a million shards, exploding, slicing him to ribbons from the inside out.

“And I have something you lost. Something you want back.”

He’s still in the dark, still missing vital fucking information, but a sixth sense tells Alfie that Bernard’s visit and Livy’s disappearance are no coincidence. With a speed he shouldn’t possess, not with his sciatica flaring up the way it is, he finds himself banging on Thomas’s front door.

When he doesn’t immediately answer, Alfie signals to Ishmael, who’s been patiently waiting by the car all evening. He has him blow the horn, not caring if he wakes the street. He’ll wake the entire city, burn it to the ground if that’s what it takes.

He promised Livy, promised her father, and promised himself this will not happen. Not again. After years of merely existing in this wicked world, he finally has something real—someone worth living for—and he’s not going to give her up without a fight.

Alfie feels a fresh surge of panic, and he’s ready to smash the door down when Thomas casually opens it, a cigarette dangling from his lips, wearing a bored expression just like his fucking aunt.

“Alfie,” he greets dryly.

“What have you done with her, Thomas?” asks Alfie, his voice deadly calm.

Thomas frowns, an unusual show of emotion. “I don’t know what—“

Alfie slams his cane against the door, splintering the wood, the sickening crack echoing down the empty street.

The floodgates have opened.

“No, Thomas,” he bellows, spit flying from his lips, rage thundering through his veins. “This is your fucking town. So tell me, where is she? What fucking happened to her?”

He reaches for Thomas, blindly shaking him. The fear is so much worse than the last time Livy went missing. Too much is unknown. He can’t make a plan, can’t mobilise his men; he’s fucking helpless, and all he can do is take out his rage on this cunt because Alfie is sure he’s involved somehow.

His fists start flying before he can stop himself, and he must break Thomas’s nose; there’s blood, warm and wet, coating his hands as he drags him into the street. The residents of Small Heath, accustomed to violence, shut their curtains and look away as Alfie continues to unleash his fury.

He knows he should stop—he needs Thomas’s help—but Alfie can feel himself descending into madness, fear and anger blinding him to reason. Flashes of Livy alone in the dark run through his mind, and he can’t control his body’s violent reaction. Every cell is calling for her; she’s the light in his life, and he needs her back.

“Where is she?” he roars, over and over, as the coppery scent of blood fills the air. Alfie barely notices when Arthur and John appear, shouting and pulling at his arms, or when Ishmael cocks his gun, bringing the others to a standstill.

It’s only when another voice rings out, strong yet feminine, that everyone stops and listens.

“She left,” Polly announces, standing in the street, surveying the scene with disgust. “And can you blame her? Look at the lot of you.”

Silence rings out, and Alfie‘s heart skips a beat.

“She left?” he repeats dumbly, oblivious to the eyes on him as his mind struggles to make sense of her words.

Polly nods.

Alfie lets go of Thomas, not looking when he lands in a heap, not caring when his brothers drag him away. His attention is on Polly, and Esme when she joins her from the shadows.

“Why?” Alfie asks, in a whisper so broken he barely recognises his own voice.

But he finds no sympathy among the Shelby women.

“Because she’s not fucking safe here, now is she?” snaps Esme, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Of course she is,” Alfie scoffs, his anger returning. “I keep her fucking safe. She’s safe with me,” he roars, thumping his chest with his bloody fist.

Polly raises an arched brow. “And how’s that working out for her?”

He opens his mouth, ready to unleash hell, but finds he can’t because she’s fucking right. Livy’s been in danger since the moment she showed up on his doorstep.

And Polly knows it.

“That’s what I thought,” she replies, her voice softer this time. “Listen. If you care about her, you’ll leave her be. She’s safe, for now.”

“I can’t just fucking—“

“Yes, you can,” Polly commands. “Get a room at the Midland and clean yourself up. She wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Alfie wants to protest, but the look in her eyes compels him to listen. There’s more to this, and he intends to find out. Besides, what choice does he have? He glances around and finds himself surrounded by angry Shelbys, with more Blinders lurking in the shadows, their familiar peaked caps concealing dangerous blades.

Yet they keep their distance when he turns away, and he can’t help wondering why they allow him to walk off after smashing Thomas in his pretty face.

It doesn’t add up, any of it.

His hip is grateful for the comfortable bed, but despite the late hour, he can’t fucking sleep.

How could he?

The clock on the mantle ticks loudly, keeping pace with his heart as he stares at the ceiling. Alfie’s deep in thought, trying to put himself in her shoes, trying to understand why Livy would leave him.

Just hours ago, she was wrapped in his arms, staring at him like he mattered … and now she’s gone? What is she so afraid of that she’d leave without saying goodbye? Why wouldn’t she let him protect her? Doesn’t she trust him?

These questions swirl around his brain with no sensible answers, leading him to the real possibility that Polly is lying. She is a Shelby, after all, and it’s not unreasonable to imagine her covering for Thomas and whatever he’s plotting. But if she is, she’s a fucking good liar.

Either way, Alfie can’t figure out his next step.

He could call for men, head north to Liverpool and track down Bernard. He still suspects the fucker has something to do with her disappearance.

But it’s risky. They’d be outnumbered, and what if he’s wrong? What if someone else has her? The last thing he wants is to waste valuable time on a wild goose chase.

Or what if she left of her own accord, as Polly claims, and wants nothing to do with him? The thought is heartbreaking, almost too painful to envisage, but he knows he has to consider the possibility. Is it worth chancing a war with Bernard when he might not have her?

Absolutely.

He’s already written off Liverpool; it’s too much fucking hassle, and there are easier ways a violent man can make a fortune. But more importantly, there isn’t anything he wouldn’t do to get Livy back. With every minute she’s gone, Alfie realises just how much he would happily sacrifice to be by her side. He’d give up a thousand Liverpools without a second thought if that’s what it takes to get her back in his arms.

But right now, he doesn’t know where to strike, and the best he can do is weigh up the odds. It’s all a fucking gamble, and Alfie isn’t a betting man, especially with no clear favourite and so much at stake.

He stands, growling with frustration, fighting the urge to break something, when he hears a soft knock on his hotel door. His heart leaps, hope rising in his chest as he crosses the room in two long strides, praying he’ll find Livy on the other side.

For a moment, he swears he can smell her sweet scent, cherries and vanilla, flooding his nostrils and warming his heart. But then he flings the door open, and his smile disappears, disappointment washing over him when he sees Polly and Esme instead of his beloved.

His first instinct is to slam the door in their smug faces, but fortunately, the logical side of his brain takes over. He takes a deep breath and arranges his features into what he hopes is a welcoming expression.

“Come in,” he invites, standing aside.

Polly nods, sweeping into the room like she owns the place (and probably does). Esme follows close behind, looking less than pleased to be there, throwing herself into a chair by the window and planting her boots on a small table.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” mocks Alfie, sweeping his hand in a broad gesture and making no effort to hide his irritation.

“What was that?” snaps Esme, staring him down as she deliberately ashes her cigarette on the carpet.

He glares back. “Did I stutter?”

“Fuck off, you—“

“Enough!” shouts Polly, coming to stand between them. She turns to face Alfie. “We didn’t drag ourselves out in the middle of the fucking night for the fun of it. Now, do you want to bicker like a child, or do you want to find Livy?”

That shuts him up. He gives a slight, sober nod.

“Good. Now take a seat. We need to talk.”

Tag List: @noz4a2 @confessionbrain @omgeternal @potter-solomons @quarterpastmidnight @woofgocows @shaddixlife @redhead7799 @cillmequick

#Livy x Alfie #Alfie Solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons x ofc #peaky blinders alfie #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fandom #peaky blinders fanfic

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themultifandomgal · 2 years

Text

Alfie Solomons- Begging

"Please?" I beg Alfie for the 10th time today. A friend of mines dog recently had puppies and she's asked if I wanted one, obviously I said yes, but now all that's left to do is convince my husband

"No YN"

"Please?"

"I said no"

"Why? we already have Cyril and I think he needs a friend" Alfie finally looks up at me while I pout and bat my eyelashes

"What makes you think Cyril needs a friend?" Alfie puts his pen down sighing

"Because..." I try to think "because he hasn't got anyone to play with"

"He has you and me"

"So are you doing to put a rope between your teeth and play tug of war because I'm not. And anyway Florence's dog is a Alsatian so it would be good protection for me"

"I thought she had one of those... balls of fluff that yaps" Alfie goes back to his work

"A Pomeranian? no that's her other dog, little shit it is" I cross my arms "but the Alsatian is a beautiful dog and just think when the Shelby's come over we can intimidate them more. Arthur's already scared of Cyril so imagine if we had another dog. What do I have to do to make you say yes" Alfie looks back at me with a smirk

"I can think of a few things" I know exactly what he's thinking about

"Alfie" I whine "focus"

"Right ok, so the reasons you want to get another dog yeah, is so that Cyril had a friend right, and that you have protection and to scare Arthur" Alfie rubs his temples

"Also it would be good practice for when we have a baby"

"A baby?" Alfie's eyes widen

"Well yeah because Cyril wasn't a puppy when we got him so we should see what a puppy is like before we have a baby"

"I think there a little different love"

"Of course they are, but Alfie I really want another dog. I'll train it, clean up after it and if it's a female then Cyril can have a girlfriend"

"Right" Alfie sighs. His entwine his fingers and leans his chin on them while leaning on the desk. I once again pout while batting my eyelashes at him "fine" I smile widely at my husband and squeal while running over to him

"Thank you thank you thank you" I kiss all over his face making him chuckle "plus I already said yes so even if you kept saying no I would have still got a puppy. Just happy you're not going to shout at me"

"You said yes already?" Alfies smile drops

"Erm no, I don't know what I was saying. Oh would you look at the time I need to go feed the fish" I pretend to look at a watch on my wrist

"You don't have a watch on and we don't have fish" Alfie stands up from his desk

"We don't. Oh well guess I better give Cyril a walk then" I slowly back out towards the door

"The maids will do that" Alfie moves round his desk walking towards me

"Then it's time for me to go have a nap" I fake yawn as I reach the door handle

"You just woke up from one" I try to open the door, but Alfie closes it with one hand and leans over me "I think you need to make up for lying to me and also thank me for say yes"

"Really? well then Mr Solomons care to join me for my nap?" I raise an eyebrow

"Love to" Alfie leans down and kisses my lips

"I love you Alfie"

"I love you to YN"

#alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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transhenryjekyll · 3 years

Text

Thinking about the fact that Tommy said he wouldn't take care of Alfie's dog, but ended up doing it anyway

#this just makes me so soft #aaaaaa #imagine taking care of your business partner's dog after you kill him #love it #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #tommy x alfie #cyril #thomas shelby

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beautifultypewriter · 3 years

Note

Happy new year! If you aren’t totally swamped with requests, could I request Alfie Solomons for the jar 💖💖💖

Hello and Happy New Year! Oh this has made the day better. Thank you. Also this is kind of a fem!reader, but it only becomes obvious at the end. Hope that’s okay.

The Prompt: Fairytales

Pulling your feet up onto the couch, you tucked your legs under you. You readjusted the book in your hands, flipping to the first yellowed page and reading the title. Hansel and Gretel. You had found the d fairytale book in the attic and you had wanted to relive your childhood a bit, so you brought it down to read. Plus you thought it would come in handy one day.

As you read the first line, you heard a whining sound from in front of you. Tilting the book slightly, you peered over the top of it to see Cyril staring at you. When he saw that he had gotten your attention, he layed his head in your lap, whining again. You fought back a smile as you sighed, “Come on then.” The big dog wasted no time in crawling up onto the couch and draping himself over your lap. You moved your arms, so that you were hugging him around the neck, “You know, your Da is not going to be happy to see you on the couch.” Cyril whined again, pushing his head into your stomach. You chuckled, “Alright. Would you like me to read to you?”

Cyril made himself even more comfortable, if that was possible, as you started reading aloud to him. When you got to the part with the witch, Cyril made a small noise and you patted his head, “I know. It’s okay, just wait until the end.” You kept reading, even as you heard the front door open and your husband step into the front hall. Cyril lifted his head, but made no move to get down and you didn’t make him.

Alfie stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing at the sight, “What’s this then?”

You kept your eyes trained on the book in your hands, pausing your reading to say, “Hi, Alf,” then you were back to the story.

Alfie cleared his throat, “Are you readin’ my dog a story?”

With a sigh, you closed the book, keeping your thumb between the pages, so you wouldn’t lose your place, “Well, I’m trying to, but you keep interrupting.” You smiled at him.

He grumbled, “Right, well if you’ll allow me to bother you a moment longer... why are you readin’ my dog a story?”

You patted the cushion next to you and waited until Alfie settled next to you, his eyes still narrowed, before you held the book up, “I found this in the attic and thought it might be nice to have around and I decided to read it while I was waiting for you to come home.”

Alfie nodded, his hand moving to rub his chin, “And Cyril?” he motioned to the dog, who was still sitting pretty in your lap.

You rubbed behind Cyril’s ears, “I thought it would be good practice to read him a bedtime story.” You looked over at Alfie and you could see the cogs turning in his head.

“Practice?”

You nodded, moving to catch his eye, “Mhm.” You took his hand in yours and gently placed it over your stomach. His eyes widened and you grinned as his hand pressed a bit more against you. He returned your grin as he leaned forward and placed his lips against yours, the book of fairytales falling to the floor as your hands moved to rest against his cheeks.

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders imagine #mystical magical friday #oh man I really need to stop adding cyril all the time

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

The Love Yet Known Part 2

Summary: Tommy Shelby needs to make sacrifices to ensure the safety of his family. So he concocts a plan to marry off his sister to the one and only Alfie Solomons.

Thanks for the love for the first part! Heres for you, @97freaknik. Sorry the tagging system isn’t working.

And thank you to my permanent tag who have yet to block me despite my spamming of works.

The drive to London was almost absolutely silent. Neither Alfie nor Eliza really knew what to say to one another. It was as if they were just acting out something for the sake of Tommy. Neither of them exactly knew how they’d ended up in such a predicament.

Alfie’s mind was racing, wondering how stupid he was to agree to something like marrying a Shelby. He thought about the ramifications, was there even a rabbi who would consider converting her and allowing them to marry? What sort of effect would this have on his life in the long run?

He glanced to his left where Eliza had been sitting quietly since they’d left Warwickshire. Her eyes were locked on the window, never turning her head. He wondered if she was wishing she was on the outside, not in the car with him. Maybe she figured if she didn’t look at him, she wouldn’t have to think of the arrangement.

Alfie cleared his throat, the silence too uncomfortable for his liking. “Erm, you like dogs?” He asked.

She looked away from the window to show she had heard him. “Pardon?”

“Dogs? Do you like dogs? I have a dog.” He clarified. “He ain’t mean or anything. I bought him to be a guard dog but he had other plans. Too nice for his own good.”

A hint of a smile formed on her lips. The sense of humor didn’t exactly fit his image. But it did help her relax a little. “Yes, I like dogs.”

“Good. That’s good. I sorta have a nasty habit of picking up strays.” He admitted. “I don’t keep all of ‘em. There’s a charity that a dear friend of mine runs. They train dogs to help blind people. So, they take in most of the strays.” He rubbed the back of his neck. It was strange. It was almost as if he was trying to list off his good traits so Eliza wouldn’t look at him like he was a monster. Maybe he could put her mind at ease. “But, Cyril I kept. Cyril’s me dog. I kept him, couldn’t give him away.” The silence on Eliza’s end was killing him. He wanted her to say exactly what she thought about him. Most people who worked for him kept their opinions to themselves. Most of his business partners/enemies were vocal about what they thought. But neither of those opinions mattered. Because none of those people were intending to marry him. If they were to marry, Alfie wanted to know Eliza’s opinion of him. Even if she said she hated him and wished him dead, at least he would know.

“He sounds lovely.” She said politely.

“Yeah…he is.” Alfie fiddled with one of his rings. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make this work. It gave him a headache thinking about it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much to Alfie’s relief, Eliza took immediately to Cyril. The bullmastiff seemed to enjoy a female presence in the flat. At least she didn’t feel completely alone in Camden Town. Alfie just felt a little guilty that her only companion was a slobbery, goofy dog.

Still, he capitalized on her affection for the mutt. He allowed her to take Cyril out for walks whenever she pleased and didn’t say anything when Cyril started to sleep in her bedroom.

Meanwhile, Alfie was trying to figure out the complicated matters of converting Eliza so they could get married. Tommy continued to call to push the matter. It was clear over the phone that he was desperate to make the union complete. The Italians would be closing in at any time and Tommy didn’t need another threat from Camden Town to weigh on him.

“Y’know, I know you’re godless, Tommy. I understand that, but us godly men have rules and those rules simply cannot be tampered with. Centuries of laws, mate, can’t be overturned ‘cause you find it inconvenient.” Alfie said over the phone.

“I gave you money to ensure it.”

“Right, well some rabbis take bribes as an insult, mate.”

“Alfie, if you’re holding out on me…” Tommy warned.

“She’s been living with me for nearly a month, Thomas, if I really wanted to back out, I would’ve sent her home to you.” He cut the man off.

Tommy muttered something over the line but Alfie couldn’t hear what it was.

“There’s a rabbi that Ollie found that might go through with the conversion and marriage,” Alfie said. “When I hear from him, I’ll let you know.”

The Blinder seemed to have his worries put to rest at least for the time being. “And how is she doing there?”

“Well, her best friend is me dog,” Alfie replied honestly. “She hardly speaks to me, not that I blame her much.”

“She’s always been quiet,” Tommy assured him.

“Well, circumstances ‘n such.” Alfie sighed and cracked his knuckles. “Anyways, I’ll let you know, Tom. I’ll let you know.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

One night a couple of days later, Alfie and Eliza were sat down together for dinner. “I just wanted you to know that I’ve found rabbis who are willing to convert you.” He brought up the topic.

“Oh. Okay.” She nodded.

Alfie had learned over the few weeks together that she was a difficult person to read. She was a lot like Tommy, and less like her other brothers who were prone to showing their emotions on the outside. She always spoke to him in a calm, steady, and polite manner. Almost as if she were afraid of setting him off, or it was simply just her demeanor. Alfie would’ve preferred if she were a bit more like Arthur, as terrible as that would be. At least he would know what she was thinking instead of having to guess.

“Didya…well…have ya put any thought into it? I mean, ain’t a small decision.”

Eliza shrugged as she pushed her food around the plate with her fork. “I haven’t put much thought into religion.” She admitted. “Polly was the only one who took Christianity seriously in our family.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Still, being Jewish is more a way of life, innit?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.” Alfie had arranged for Ollie’s wife to give some insight to Eliza into what it meant to be a Jewish wife. He assumed they’d bonded, but Eliza didn’t say much about it. Though, she did frequently visit Ruth and her and Ollie’s pack of kids. She never said what they spoke about.

“Right. Well, just wanted to know what your thoughts about it were.” He posed the question again, hoping to get a little further into her mindset.

“Ruth said if we were going to have children, they needed to be brought up fully Jewish. Or at least, that’s what she thought your intentions were.”

Alfie cleared his throat. How could they discuss children? Of course, it was a factor but a child wouldn’t just magically appear once they were married. And they hadn’t even touched each other aside from the mistaken brush of an arm. “Well, right.” He tilted his head to the side, hoping suddenly for an interruption so he could leave the conversation.

“Alfie?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. It was the first time she had addressed him by name. The way she spoke his name was so soft. Like nothing, he’d heard before. “Hm?” He couldn’t exactly speak properly.

“Do you think I’m afraid of you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Afraid? Well, I’d hope not. I told your brothers that I ain’t here to hurt you.”

“Then why do you walk on eggshells around me?”

Alfie opened his mouth but only let out a small, confused grumble. It must’ve been that Shelby wit that had gotten them there. She was so good at concealing her feelings that Alfie looked like a fool. Dancing around the topic, trying to please her, giving her everything she wanted. God, he must’ve looked like a sap.

She smiled slightly. “I didn’t expect you to try to impress me so much. The way my brothers spoke of you, I was expecting something else entirely.”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “There’s a difference, yeah, ‘tween business and me personal life. What your brothers see ain’t what you’ll see.” He tried to explain.

It was different from her family’s mentality, or Tommy’s to be more specific. In the Shelby family, everyone dealt with family business. There were no exceptions unless you absconded. Even then, it was tricky to escape business. But it appeared Alfie was keener to keep his two lives separate. Eliza considered how this difference might benefit her.

“All the day’s shit, yeah, it gets left at the fucking door.” He pointed down the hall toward the front door. “This is sorta a sanctuary, innit?”

Eliza nodded. “That sounds nice.”

“Nice, yeah it is nice.” He agreed.

They were quiet for a moment, neither of them really wanted to return to the conversation topic of children. It seemed too fresh.

“Ruth is trying to teach me how to cook kosher.” She spoke up after a bit. It was the first time she offered any information without Alfie prompting her. Maybe because now she felt the flat was a safe place for her. “Just, I dunno if you were wondering why I’m there for so long.”

Alfie shrugged. “I’m glad you two have gotten along. Didn’t want you to feel lonely here.” He admitted and went back to eating before his dinner went cold.

Eliza watched him for a split second. So, he cared about how she felt? Imagine that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took quite a bit of convincing to get the rabbis to convert Eliza. Wrestling with tradition, Alfie knew he was asking for a lot. But the conversion went through and under Jewish law, he was allowed to marry her. Not that he was looking for some massive wedding. It would be best to call the least amount of attention to himself as possible. The Camden community might not take kindly to his bride-to-be if they found out she was a convert. And if they found out she was a Shelby? Well, granted, Alfie was scary enough to thwart off criticism. But he didn’t want the rumors to get around to Eliza. He didn’t want her to feel unwelcome.

In reality, Alfie felt as though he was going mad. Since when had he given two shits about someone’s comfort? His job was basically to make people feel uncomfortable so they’d be more willing to listen. But apparently, Eliza had made quite an impact on him.

She fit in very nicely in his flat. Never made a fuss or anything. That wasn’t to say she was like a little dormouse. She wasn’t very tidy. Alfie chalked this up to her growing up with five siblings. He didn’t particularly mind, though. It was nice to see the flat actually lived in. For so long it had been just a place to sleep. But Alfie realized he had grown fond of coming home late from work and finding traces of Eliza throughout the house.

A dirty pan in the sink, her book on the sofa, a couple of hairpins on the coffee table, and the stray teacup with cold tea that had been forgotten about.

For a brief moment, as he cleaned up, he wondered if their children would be just as messy. Alfie could imagine coming home to the floor littered with toys. It brought a smile to his face.

Of course, children was still a conversation they had to have. Alfie loathed the fact that they had to get over that little mountain of a decision. He wouldn’t dare force anything onto her. Purely by his own standards and morals. Plus, the added benefit of getting a bullet in his head courtesy of the Shelby boys.

So, he waited and hoped that was something they could get to. Because, despite their relationship still being merely two people who lived together, he did like her. More so, even.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wedding, although very traditional in the ritual sense, was very small. Only a few people very close to Alfie attended if only to witness the union. There wasn’t a reception or party to follow. No grand affair.

They simply walked out of the building as man and wife.

“Alfie, can I ask you something?”

“’Course.” It was a bit strange. Eliza was standing in the foyer as he went to go feed Cyril. Standing in her wedding dress, she looked a bit out of place.

“I know what is…expected of us tonight.” She wrung her hands together. “But I don’t think I’m quite ready. I’m sorry I just…”

Alfie felt oddly relieved. He was hoping she would say something, otherwise, he’d feel like a monster if she went through with consummating the marriage and she wasn’t ready. “No reason to apologize, love.” He walked back out of the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket. “Ain’t any rush.”

“I appreciate that.” She said softly. “Thank you.”

“So…I’ll see you tomorrow then? I’ve got to work early.”

“I’ll make breakfast.” She offered.

“Nah, that’s alright. You don’t need to get up so early.”

“I don’t mind…”

“S’alright, love.” He gave her a warm smile and held out an arm, allowing her to go upstairs first.

Eliza smiled back, feeling her cheeks warm a bit. She went upstairs, allowing Cyril to trot by her.

“I had a few things shipped in from Paris. Sorta wedding gift, if you will. I hope you don’t mind, I asked Ruth if she could help me.” Alfie said as he climbed the stairs behind her. “I left it on your bed.”

“Oh, Alfie, you didn’t need to-”

“S’alright.” He assured her, meeting her at the top of the stairs. “You Shelbys like nice things, aye?”

She shrugged. “I’m a Solomons now.” She pointed out.

He let out a brief chuckle. “Yeah, that’s true. F’ya want, we can get a nice box for your dress. Maybe to store it? I dunno, me mum did the same thing. I still have her dress, fuck if I know what I’m gonna do with it. But she-well it were the only thing she brought from Russia.”

“I understand, it’s important to you.” Eliza agreed.

Alfie rubbed a hand over his beard. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. Well, I won’t keep you up.”

“Goodnight, Alfie.” She smiled at him before going down the hall to her room. Like he said, there was a large box on her bed. After shutting the door, Eliza opened the top and found an array of beautiful pieces of clothing that must’ve cost a fortune. Beaded gowns, satin gloves, a fur-lined coat, and much more. Eliza carefully unpacked everything, folding the items or hanging them up in the closet. Then she landed on a pair of silk pajamas that looked like what picture stars wore. A gorgeous burgundy color with embroidered designs on the cuffs of the shirt and pants.

She smiled and felt her heart skip a beat. It had been a little unnerving knowing that she would become a Jewish wife. There were a lot of changes she had to make, moving to Camden, marrying Alfie, and trying to keep her end of the bargain by converting. But in the end, she was still married to a gangster. One who, although he looked simply, did like luxury items. And maybe it was how he was trying to show his affection for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Married life wasn’t all that different for Alfie. He continued to work the same tireless hours and continued to keep up his agenda of legal and illegal operations. Mostly illegal.

What changed was coming home to a gentle person who had a good skill of keeping the flat calm. Alfie assumed that like the other Shelbys, Eliza would manage to only raise his blood pressure. But she had the opposite effect.

She had become more of an open book with him, which led Alfie to believe they were moving in the right direction. She told him more about what she did during the day. Mainly, she spent her time with Ruth and some of the other women in the neighborhood.

It was nice to hear things that weren’t related to business. Alfie’s entire life was business. Now he had someone else to occupy his thoughts.

As the weeks wore on, both Eliza and Alfie began talking on a more intimate level. Soon she found she was telling him things not even her siblings knew. Things that were very personal to her.

She also began to notice Alfie stealing a few looks her way. Meanwhile, she found herself looking forward to seeing him every day and often was disappointed if he worked late and she fell asleep before he came home. Her heart skipped a beat when he smiled at her or called her pet names. She figured it was just instinct, something he did to everyone. But it felt special to her.

Eliza realized, when winter came, that there was no reason for her sheepishness. They were married, after all. If she wanted to further their relationship, all she had to do was ask.

So, she did. One night, Alfie came home late from work. He picked at some leftovers waiting for him, before heading upstairs. His hip was bothering him as the days got colder, so he wasn’t in a grand mood. When he reached the second floor, the door to Eliza’s room opened.

“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t, I was waiting for you to get home.” She lingered in the doorway for a moment. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in, I would’ve kept you company while you ate.”

“S’alright, didn’t eat much.” He shrugged. “There something you needed?”

“Well, yes.” She walked into the hallway. It felt a little silly asking her husband what she was going to ask. So, Eliza gained some of that Shelby confidence and looked him in the eye. “Will you kiss me?”

It certainly wasn’t what Alfie expected. He thought maybe she wanted to use the car or needed some spending cash. So, he felt a little bad that he was silent for so long, but he didn’t know what to say. “Erm, I didn’t-well-”

Eliza began to clam up, fearing she had overstepped a line. Maybe it was all in her head and Alfie didn’t really like her all that much. “Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve asked…”

Alfie caught her hand before she could scurry back to her room. He drew her closer and his other hand cupped her cheek. His eyes searched her face before he kissed her, trying to get a mental image of her locked in his head. The tiny bit of freckles on her face, the wintery blue eyes looking up, yearning, and the way her lips parted slightly. He would catalog the little bits of information away because he couldn’t imagine how this would last long. Nothing good in life ever lasted long and Eliza was one of the best damn things that ever happened to him.

That night, Eliza slept in Alfie’s room for the first time. It was how she came to the realization that her husband was just a big bear. Grumpy, stubborn, yet he cared for his own. Eliza liked that. She had grown up around bristly love. Polly marched them to mass every Sunday no matter how much they complained because she wanted to ‘save their souls’. Arthur would gladly murder any boy who gave her even the slightest of looks. Tommy was stern but she found out later it was because they had no father figure so he had to take on the role. And John? Well, John pretended to hate his twin sister. He wanted to appear tough in front of his friends and teased her at school. But every night, when there was no available light to read, he conjured up a story for her.

Other people may not have understood, but Eliza knew that real relationships couldn’t be found in the pages of her books. She liked Alfie because he was real. The most real thing she’d ever known.

After that night, their relationship bloomed much faster. They found married life soothing when others found it stressful. They enjoyed each other’s company so much that Alfie started to cut back on late nights at the bakery. It meant more to Eliza than he might have realized.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the situation with the Italians got more intense, Alfie started to realize how much their relationship had grown. He found himself contacting Tommy more often, demanding information about what Luca Changretta was doing. He wanted to ensure there would be no threat to his London empire and there would be no threat to his wife.

His anxiety about everything reached a boiling point when Eliza disappeared one morning. Had he looked in his study, he would’ve seen the note she left for him saying that she was taking the car to visit her family in Small Heath.

But he didn’t. So, he naturally assumed something bad happened and rallied a search team. He was at his wit's end, practically tearing his hair out.

When Eliza arrived home, unharmed and acting normally, he lost his cool.

“Where the fuck have you been?” He demanded when she walked through the door as if nothing had happened.

Eliza looked taken aback. He’d never taken such a harsh tone with her. “Pardon?”

“I’ve half me men out looking for you, you think it’s alright to just disappear like that?”

“Alfie, I left you a fucking note on your desk.” She snapped, not happy he was talking to her in such a way. He usually was very respectful.

He looked a bit hesitant, maybe he had neglected to see the note. But he was still too upset to admit he was in the wrong. “You could’ve told me, aye? Where were you?”

“What does it matter?” She asked defensively, trying to pass by him in the hallway.

“Because there’s a man out there who wants to wipe out your entire family, Liz!” He snapped, standing in her way so she couldn’t shrug off his concern.

“You don’t think I know that?”

“You have no idea where he could be or what he could’ve done to you!”

“I was in Small Heath, I was perfectly okay.” She retorted. “I have the right to go where I please.”

“Small Heath?” Alfie looked at her in disbelief. To think she could go that far and think she would be fine on her own. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Do not take that tone with me!” She held strong against him. “If I want to see my family, I can. You can’t keep me locked up in Camden.”

“That ain’t…” He let out a frustrated noise. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel trapped. “I don’t understand why you just up and left. What did you need to do there?”

“That’s my business.”

“Liz-”

“You don’t control me, Alfie.”

“I know!” He shouted. “You don’t think I know that? But I care too much about you to let you be killed because of what your fucking brother has gotten your family into!”

Eliza’s lower lip wobbled and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I went because I was late. My aunt confirmed it, I’m pregnant.”

Alfie was knocked right in the gut by the news. What he thought would never happen was now a reality. “Liz…”

“Just fuck off.” She spat and turned to head upstairs. But she paused halfway. “I was so excited to tell you and this is how I’m treated? You can sleep on the couch.” She stomped upstairs and slammed the door shut before locking it.

Alfie felt like an absolute imbecile. He was notorious for letting his temper get the better of him. But he was proud of himself for never letting Eliza see that side of him. Now he had mucked up what they’d been building for months.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eliza didn’t come down for dinner or breakfast the next day. Alfie decided to try and speak with her before he went to the bakery for the day.

His first knock was met with silence.

“Eliza, please, just let me apologize.” He said as he knocked again.

“Go to hell, Alfie.” She finally replied.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Love, I’m tryna apologize, here!” He exclaimed. “What else do you want me to do?”

There was another bout of silence before the door swung open. “You think an apology is some grandiose gesture?” She demanded. “Alfie, I’ve walked across hot coals for you and you don’t even realize.”

“M’tryna…I don’t know what you want me to say.” He grimaced, realizing how shit he was at relationships sometimes.

“I went to Small Heath and you know what Ada said to me? She asked me about my headscarf. She said it was oppressive and I never should’ve converted for you. She said you would never be able to do anything that comes close to what I’ve done for you. Do you want to know what I said?”

Alfie nodded.

“I said she was wrong. I told her that you treated me right. You respected me. You were there for me and appreciated the person I was. I converted for you, I married you, and now I’m going to give you a child. So, don’t act like you have this authority over me when I’ve done so much for you.”

He sighed. “You’re right, love. It were wrong for me to treat you like that.” He acknowledged in a rare event of humility. “But me worst fear is losing you. ‘Cause you’re the only thing on this Earth that means a damn to me. If I lost you if that fucker killed you? I’d never forgive myself. I would spend the rest of me days mourning.”

Eliza’s tense stance relaxed a bit when she heard the genuine concern in his voice. His anger was out of fear. She knew men like Alfie had a hard time addressing their fears because they weren’t meant to be scared of anything. Her voice softened. “I’m not going anywhere.” She promised. “You have me until the end of time.”

“And you have me.”

She smiled and stepped into his arms so he could hold her close. “That’s good to know.”

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