#Alfie Solomons angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

warnersister · 9 months ago

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How the Peaky boys would react to “you wearing a sundress” -> headcannon

(NSFW) but more implied then truly written, but still read at your own risk

Tommy🪖

🪖it was a hot day, and you were rummaging through your clothing chest to try find something suitable to wear to bear the heat outside.

🪖Tommy had headed out early, business to attend to with Alfie Solomons.

🪖he hadn’t meant to wake you, trying to sneak around the bedroom to get dressed and get out of the house: especially after a… long night

🪖but still, you stirred and whined “Tom?” You breathe with a rasped voice “s’alright, back to sleep darling” he instructed but you endured, sitting up and stretching your arms high above your head and Thomas watched as the covers fell to reveal your bare torso and it took all his self control to stop salivating.

🪖you climbed out of bed and threw the slip dress over your head, heading towards your husband who was buttoning his shirt in the mirror

🪖you turned him towards you and swatted his hands away, and he allowed you to finish buttoning his shirt for him, finishing the top button and pulling the collar down to kiss him.

🪖”Solomons is coming by today” Thomas huffed and you looked up at him with narrowed eyes “long meeting?” You ask and he shakes his head “shouldn’t be” you nod “d’you want me to come by later? Bring you some lunch?” You ask and he connects his eyes with yours “y’know y’worry me when you stay in there all day” you continue and he offers a small smile. “I’ll take that as a yes” you say, kissing the corner of his mouth and tapping his chest, ushering him out of the door. “Go on, shoo.”

🪖he smirked and grabbed his cap on the way out, whistling as he went

🪖so there you were, already sweeting with mere silk on your body

🪖you saw a dress with the tags still on, yellow and billowing at the bottom: sundress

🪖you looked it over one before deciding it was the perfect choice for today’s endeavours.

🪖you’d nipped out to the market first, collecting some supplies to make him some soup or whatever you could conjure up.

🪖you even grabbed some sunflowers too; having bought him a vase for his office, thinking it needed some life brought into it, given the volume of lives that were lost in that room.

🪖later in the day you headed to Tommy’s office, assuming that his meeting must be done by now and to feed him.

🪖you’d headed to the Garrison, greeting Harry and having a few wandering eyes following you as you approached the Blinder’s designated room, thinking nothing of it as you turned the door knob.

🪖Tommy couldn’t be mad at your intrusion for the sheer sight of you. His pupils blew out of his head as he looked you over, he’d never seen this dress before. Yet his jaw gritted at the way Alfred fucking Solomons had the same reaction.

🪖”oh I’m so sorry gentleman” you said, pivoting to leave “no no, sweetheart. Alfie was just leaving. Weren’t you?” Tommy asked and Alfie creased his brows but with the eyes his business partner was giving him told him everything he needed to know. “Yeah yeah, just leaving Tom”

🪖Alfie stood, to leave and smiled at you “lovely to see you, poppet” Alfie said, you’d always gotten along with him; you hugged him as he welcomed it, and he grinned at you “you look gorgeous you, yeah? Lovely new dress. Fabulous it is” “fuck off Alfie” “yeah yeah I’m going, bye love”

🪖Tommy looked you over as the door clicked shut with tight lips. “I’m sorry Tom I didn’t think he’d still be here-” “have you had that on all day?” He cuts you off and you raise your brows “the dress?” “Mhm” “oh yeah, found it earlier. Never worn it.” You say, spinning to give him a giddy look at it.

🪖Tommy couldn’t help but smile “c’m ere.” He beckons you over and you approach him “I brought you some lunch-” you begin “nah, got all I need to eat right here” he says and grabs your hips, prompting you to discard your basket on his desk.

🪖he sits back in his seat; opening his legs to pull you to stand between them. He gently takes the fabric between his fingers, then drags his hands so slowly up to your torso, not looking at your face. You fidget anxiously, his hands dragging back down to the hem of the dress.

🪖”dangerous wearing this, love” he says, dipping his hands under the dress to rest on your upper thighs, finally looking at you. You smile. He realises how easily the fabric is lifted, pushing you back to sit on his desk “can’t do this to y’old Tom and expect to get away with it” he says, with a tut, unzipping his trousers and removing his suspenders as he pushes your underwear to the side.

🪖”I’m buying you more o’ these.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Alfie was sat reading the newspaper in his armchair, Cyril asleep beside him when you came into the room.

🧸”so, what do you think?” You asked and Alfie looked up but had to do a double take. A white sundress with frilled straps and tight torso. “Blimey poppet, what’s this then?” He asked, dropping his glasses to the end of his nose to get a better look at you.

🧸”a sundress Alf!” You say, “y’bought it last year, remember?” “Thought I’d remember buying something like this.” He says, standing to his feet, moving to take your hand in his own “give us a spin then darling” he says, turning you as the fabric billowed as you went only for your gorgeous beaming face to return to him.

🧸”now this is fucking fabulous ain’t it darlin’, fucking fabulous. Bloody love it. Suits you nicely” he mumbles as you smile “but y’can’t wear it” he says and your face drops “y’what?” You asks, brows furrowing. “Y’aint givin y’old man heart palpitations and expecting me to let y’out of the house, flower. Not like this” he says sternly, wagging an accusatory finger at you.

🧸”but we��re got to go to the market-” you protest “nah, we ain’t” he says, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as you yelp. He flips the rim of your skirt up so he gets a great view of your ass, smacking it lightly “Alfie!”

🧸”don’t think I won’t shag y’on these stairs, treacle, now let me get up the fucking stairs, yeah?”

🧸then later in the day when you’d finally manage to coax him off of you and out of the house to the market, there was a hand permanently on your waist. And then at some point you bent over to smell some flowers and Alfie couldn’t help but lean his hips into yours. You yelped “Alfie!” You hissed. “C‘mon love I can’t cope.” He grunts, impatiently prompting the rest of the shopping to go by faster, flipping the skirt of the dress up again when he finally got back to the car.

Arthur🍺

🍺so. Fucking. Antsy.

🍺can’t keep his fucking hands off of you.

🍺left early, didn’t he? Ended up waking you up; banging all the doors shut and all that as he clambered out of the house.

🍺you decided that was your wake up call regardless, knowing full well that if he’d have left in a state such as the one he was in last night then it wasn’t good business. Meaning it’d perk him up for you to visit him and calm down his anger during the day, even if it was only a chat to rectify his emotions.

🍺you’d gotten yourself dressed without a second thought, inly to do a double take and head right back into the house when you felt the sweltering temperatures outside the from door.

🍺you’d rummage through your clothing chest, struggling to find anything suitable for such an occasion, used to the drizzly cool downpour of the indefinite English winter.

🍺then you spotted it; the sundress

🍺Arthur had gone mad for it last year, and it was forgotten about at around Christmas time when it was way too cold for attire like that, but now was the perfect opportunity to wind him up again.

🍺and you were in a teasing mood after the way he’d slammed the front door shut and made a crack in the mahogany.

🍺so you’d slipped it on, it was a lovely shade of pink; baby pink to be exact. Arthur loved that colour on you, made him forget all his troubles and appreciate his woman for a while - especially when he couldn’t get his hands off you. So, giving yourself a once over you spritzed a bit of the expensive perfume Thomas had kindly gifted you the Christmas prior, the one you knew Arthur liked the smell of, and headed out the door.

🍺you decided to stop by the bakery on the way to his office, the bakery with the young cashier who had a large crush on you who Arthur absolutely despised, and you knew it’d get him even more rilled up knowing full well that you’d been in that dress, had leant over the counter while the young lad stumbled over his words and explained what was in every one of them, let you sample the one that the lad knew full well was your favourite, and gave you it on the house with a tip on the hat and a kiss on the hand.

🍺yeah this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

🍺so you waltzed through the building, little spring in your step as you greeted all the turning heads who watched you as you walked.

🍺you knocked on his door “fuck off” and you opened it “sorry Arth, thought you’d want some company” you say in the shyest voice you could manage to muster. His demeanour immediately changed when he heard your voice, his posture settled but when he looked at you his mouth ran dry.

🍺”brought you a bun” you say, taking it out of the bag you’d brought and knew full well he looked at the branding on the paper packaging. His jaw went slack. “Fuck me love, y’tryna kill me?” He asked, taking his cap off his head and shooting his head beneath it. “What do you mean, darling?” You asked, feigning innocence, heading to his desk as you placed the treat in front of him. “You know fucking damn well what. That bastard dress is back again” he says, grabbing your waist with calloused hands to bring you closer to him and he looked you over.

🍺”wearing the nice perfume too, ain’t ya love?” He asked meekly and you nodded “warm day and I couldn’t find anything else. Saw how quickly you’d left his morning so I thought I’d bring you something to eat” you say with a small, innocent smile as you stroked his cheek. He swallowed hard, eyes unwillingly shifting from you to the pastry on his desk.

🍺”y’ve been to that fucking bakery, ain’t ya?” He asked, gritting his teeth “well it’s your favourite-” “and that little bastard was serving wasn’t he?” He asked again, eyes narrowing “who? Daniel-” “yes fucking Daniel that little cock rocket who thinks he can get in your knickers that’s who” he seethed.

🍺then it dawned on him. “And he saw you in this fucking thing” he growled, bunching the pink material in his hands as he huffed “m’sorry Arth. Didn’t think” you reply. Liar. “Nah I think you knew. Knew to tease y’old Arthur didn’t you?” He asked, thumb drawing small circles into your waist. You replied with a small smile “I knew it! Y’little minx!” He chuckled, shaking his head.

🍺”well!“You exclaim, taking his hands and prying them from your waist as his face dropped “I’ll leave you be. Enjoy your pasty. Love you.” You say, turning to make your leave and he almost growled.

🍺”where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He asked, standing up after you as you walked back through his door, failing to suppress your smirk. He pretty much sprinted after you, grabbing you roughly and throwing you over his shoulder to turn right back around and into his office. “Got all I want to eat right fucking ‘ere. You ain’t leaving this office in this bastard dress” he promises, slamming the office door behind the two of you.

John🥃

🥃bold of you to think you’re even leaving the house with it on.

🥃he’s not like his brothers, he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye unless Tommy was literally at the door screaming for him, and even then he was quick to reassure you before he sprinted out the house.

🥃no he liked to wake up with you, especially now there were too many kids to count running around the house.

🥃he liked to wake you up with little kisses, grab you at the waist and pull you back into bed if you tried to leave, brush his teeth beside you in the bathroom, help get the kids ready, pick your outfit, and let you tie his tie which usually took a good half hour between all the songs he’d sneak in.

🥃gave him a sense of homeliness.

🥃a bit of normality.

🥃today was no different, he’d woke you up with little kisses, rolling you to sit on top of him, legs either side of his hips as he repetitively kissed you as you giggled and tried to rise for a breath.

🥃”mammy I’m hungry!” A voice came from the doorway and you saw your agitated son pawing at his pyjamas as he looked at you desperately. “Fucking kid interrupting. About to fu-” John mumbled quietly before you were placing a hand over his mouth with wide, warning eyes. He smirked at you. “Alright mate, I’ll come, leave your poor mammy alone” John answered, finally managing to pry your hand away. “Thanks daddy” he says, giddily, as John reluctantly placed you back in bed and rolled out, chucking a shirt on and turning back to you. “Don’t move” he says, wagging a jokingly warning finger at you and you laugh “yes sir” you salute and he smirk.

🥃”right c’mon mate.” John says, grabbing your son and slinging him onto a piggy back to go grab him something to munch on.

🥃you practically jumped out of bed to go grab the new sundress that you bought last week, you hadn’t shown John yet and decided that today was the day you were going to wear it, especially now you had the quick couple of minutes of peace alone.

🥃”right, little’uns eating his breakf- fuck me” you spun around to look at your husband and smiled “what d’y think?” You ask, “g’i us a twirl” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. You did as he said and pivoted around, showing how the dress spun with you.

🥃”it’s a sundress” you say “I can see that flower” he replies, walking up to you to have a good feel of the fabric, gliding his hands from your upper back to your waist as he pulls you into him “y’can’t wear tha’.” He says simply and you giggle “why’s tha Johnny?” You ask and he raises his brows “that little name tells me you know goddamn why gorgeous.” He says “y’cannea wear it cause I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off of ya.” He says, quickly turning to slam the door shut before picking you up and dropping you on the bed, climbing on top of you and leaning in to kiss you hungrily.

🥃you move to take the dress of and he shakes his head “now, now whole point of this dress is that it’s easy access now, ain’t it?” He hums “leave it on I’ll work around don’t you worry ‘bout me.” He says quickly with his tongue protruding to lick his dry lips as he looks you over.

🥃he dips his head under the hem of the dress and eats you like a man starved. “Mammy! Daddy we’re ‘ungry!” You hear from beyond the door and John stops his movement to come back up for air and clamp a hand over your mouth to stop the sounds coming out of it. John huffs, frustrated but clears his throat. “Harriet darlin’ can you reach the milk?” He asks after a minute “I can da’.” Her little voice replies “Toby can you reach the cereal?” “Uh-huh” the other retorts. “Great and Charlie? Bowls and spoons?” “Yeah I know where they are daddy!” The little one says “perfect. Harriet want you to get the milk, the big ‘un I’m not having you using up the fancy shit your mam bought from Camden. Y’here me?” He asks “yeah dad” “Toby, grab the cereal and Charlie get the bowls and lot.” He instructs “okay!” The collective voices come out. “Hannah need you to make sure it’s all gone to plan, alright hon?” He asks “sure thing” then you hear the patter of feel heading down the stairs

🥃”and I swear to god if any of you little shits make a mess y’ll all be up for the fuckin’ high jump!” He announces loudly, before quieting down and turning back to you “where were we?”

🥃and then when you’d finally managed to pry him off of you, he begrudgingly let you wear it “don’t forget we’re going to Alice’s garden party.” You say “what?” He asks, noticing how you’ve dressed all the kids appropriately “y’ain’t going looking like that flower” he says “I sure am. Come in you lot! In the car!” You say, ushering him out the door

🥃he managed to sneak you away one or two times at the party.

Bonnie🥊

🥊Bonnie’s just as bad as John

🥊cannot keep his hands off of you

🥊”’m takin’ y’ to Bonnie Gold’s fight.” Your brother said walking into the room “wear summot nice, that dress I bought you” “why?” “Just get dressed” you nodded at Tommy, not opposed to visiting Bonnie Gold any day.

🥊”is his sister coming?” Bonnie asked his dad hopefully and the man smirked “why?” “J’st wonderin’.” “Yeah well keep y’eyes on the prize” Aberama told him “she is the fuckin’ prize” “try keep y’hands off of ‘er until the fights over, yeah?” He asked and him and Bonnie just shared a knowing smirk.

🥊you put on the sundress Tommy had bought you the other week, deciding it was a nice enough day to have a breeze against your skin, plus you had a pair of lovely shoes to match.

🥊so you rocked up downstairs, dress on and ready to go and Tommy just gave you a once over “poor lads gonna have a fuckin’ heart attack” John said, laughing “shut up John” you reply, as he opened the door to the car for you, offering his hand to help you up. “You look nice” Arthur commented with a raised brow “damn fucker better win this fight”

🥊”Bonnie” Thomas nodded as he entered the building, followed by his brothers, you at the back with John who’d strung an arm over your shoulder. “Mr Shelby” he nodded at him, but was clearly distracted. “Don’t you worry, Bonnie. She’s right ‘ere.” Tommy says, moving out the way for John and you to come into his view. “Hiya, Bon.” You smile “hiya flower” he manages to muster.

🥊yet, his breath had caught in his throat at the sheer sight of you. Your gorgeous face, hair done up nicely, and a fucking milkmaid dress. Some lovely sundress that other men didn’t deserve to see. Bonnie’s jaw clenched.

🥊”right, we’ll leave the two of you for a minute. Aberama, let’s chat” Thomas said, leading the others away “if he tries anything come and fuckin’ find me.” John said, looking Bonnie over once with narrowed eyes before strutting off after the others.

🥊Bonnie smirked looking at you “y’look lovely” he said quietly, approaching you “not too bad y’self Bon” you giggle as his hands wrap around you, leaning down to kiss you gently. “This fuckin’ dress. Y’do it on purpose?” He asks and you crease your brows “do what?” You hum and he sighs “I guess you’re not beautiful on purpose are you darlin’?” He grins, grabbing your hand to drag you into his changing room and lock the door behind you.

🥊he picks you up and you squeal with a laugh, wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you against the door. He slips his hands under the hem of the skirt and holds your thighs gently.

🥊”this fucking dress” he says, chuffed that he managed to slip his hands all the way up to settle on your waist and you just smiled at him. You could feel him toying with the waistband of your panties and you laugh “Bon we’ve only got ten minutes!” You giggle and he sighs “guess we’ve got to be quick then, ay sugar?” He asks, undoing his trousers and just merely pushing your panties aside.

🥊you lean your head into the curve of his neck, muffling the sounds erupting from your mouth and muffling them with his bear skin and he slid in and out of you. “God ‘m so fuckin’ obsessed with you.” He groaned “y’know what this makes me think of?” He asks and you shake your head in question against him. “Makes me think of a mammy. What a mammy should wear when she’s pregnant ‘nd can’t get into nothin’ else.” He mumbles. “This wha’ya were tryna do t’me?” He asks “tryna get me to make y’a mammy? Cause it’s working darlin’. So well.” You whine at his remark.

🥊and when you both finish you try to pull up from his shoulder but he holds you firmly in place “Nuh uh. You dress like a mammy y’become one” he says and you can’t help but smile at his statement. Eventually, he unwraps you from his waist and lets you down onto shaky legs. A knock comes at the door “five minutes, son. Get your hands wrapped” you hear Aberama say to him followed by leaving footsteps. You smile up at him “c’mon I’ll wrap your hands”

🥊you pull him to where the wrap is, sitting him down on the bench and standing between his legs as you work on protecting his hands.

🥊He was being extremely difficult

🥊trying to wrap a man’s hands when all he wants to do is have them under your dress is an extremely difficult task as he kept groping at your skin rather than letting you work. “D’ya want your hands wrapping or not?” You ask with a huff and he smirks “would rather be doing somethin’ else.” He shrugs, but lets you finish. And when you do he pulls you into a tight hug, leaning against the fabric where your breasts were constricted.

🥊”Bonnie, c’mon lad it’s time” you heard your brother say from beyond the door, knocking on it thrice (sausage roll video lol)

🥊Bonnie groaned from under your dress (you didn’t know when he’d managed to snake his way back under there) but you grabbed his hand and yanked him from his seated position to standing; pulling him towards the door and unlocking it to take him to the ring.

🥊Bonnie pulled the hand that was dragging him, sending you flying into his chest with a force that nearly winded you as he gave you one last kiss. “Bonnie! Go!” You giggled, pushing him away and towards the ring, taking a stand beside your brothers as the match began.

🥊The rounds went by painfully slow for Bonnie; regardless of the fact that he was winning - but in reality it was only a good few minutes of pure fighting.

🥊then when the match was finished, he waltzed over to the Shelby family like he owned the place and offered a blood-filled grin as it dripped down his chin.

🥊”well done Bonnie lad.” Tommy said, lighting a cigarette. “Cheers Tommy.” He replied, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “Didn’t y’get some money f’this match?” John asked, lighting his own. “Nah he’s got his own trophy right over there” Tommy replied, nodding at you as they all turned to see you chatting with Bonnie’s father.

🥊”just do us a favour” Thomas told him and Bonnie immediately nodded “marry her.” “Don’t have to tell me twice, mr Shelby.” Bonnie told him with a chuckle, heading to grab you to resume your activities.

Isaiah♟️

♟️haha.

♟️again, bold of you to assume that you’re getting fucking anywhere with that thing on.

♟️feel like it’d be a black sundress, one with frills on the sleeves.

♟️you’d gone for a walk with Finn, Tommy having told you both to fuck off for a while while they dealt with some deeper business; so a stroll around seemed to be the choice at hand.

♟️eventually though, Finn had gotten distracted by a sign you’d read that said ‘pretty women here shilling for a good time’ and left you to fend for yourself, opting not to follow your twin into the whore house, yet you weren’t in your own company for long, feeling a cap placed on your head and an arm around your shoulders.

♟️“Hey pretty, what’re you doing all alone?” Isaiah asked, as he feel into step with you, but came to a sudden halt almost lurching you back. “And who let you wear that?” His eyebrows raised as he looked you over. “Why what’s wrong with it?” You asked “nothin’ nothin’. J’st don’t understand why it’s not on my bedroom floor” you smacked his chest and giggled “Isaiah!”

♟️”y’shouldnt have been let out wearing this, love” he said, backing you against the wall of one of the nearby buildings. “Well I was with Finn” you reason “hmm? And where is Finn now?” He asks, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to look at him.

♟️”in some whore house” you mumble in reply. He scoffs “some brother”. Then he starts again “why don’t we turn my house into a whore house and get that dress off you and into my room?” He suggests and you roll your eyes “such a way with words”

♟️”y’look fuckin’ insatiable” he says, leaning down to kiss that sensitive spot on the crevasse of your neck. “Dunno how I manage to keep my hand off you most of the time, doll” he shrugs “and in this? Fuck y’not gonna be walking anytime soon”

♟️you laugh at him “you wish peaky junior, now I was enjoying a lovely walk before you came along.” You hum, pushing him back by the chest and he scoffs “I’m a Shelby I can fend for myself” you shrug “not while I make you a Jesus.” He retorts, smirking like he knew he’d won. “Whatever, Isaiah” you say, calmly walking away

♟️he laughs loudly, running after you “c’mon Mrs Jesus we’ve business to attend to!” He announces, swiftly placing a hand onto your chest and pressing you back against the wall, lifting you up and placing hungry hands under the hem of your dress “Isaiah!” You scold, “not here!” He rolls his eyes “fine”

♟️and he places and arm under your knees and one to support your head as he carries you bridal-style back to his house. You clutch at his suit jacket and squeal at his action, holding on for dear life until you got to his home.

♟️did not wait until you got to the bedroom

♟️defo had his way with you against the door once it’d been firmly slammed shut and locked

♟️and on the sofa

♟️and the kitchen table

♟️and then bedroom

♟️(you never took the dress off)

♟️and eventually when you’d decided Tommy was probably done with his important business you managed to coax a begrudging Isaiah to the Garrison with you, who’d initially planned to keep you up all night with him but instead you were heading to a pub instead of his bed; which you’d end up in later anyways

♟️”oh she’s alive!” Arthur said sarcastically as you join them, noticing your presence and subsequently you noticed Finn’s. “How long did you last? Two minutes?” You asked and he scoffed “fuck off” “and of course I’m alive, I’m fine. It was Finn who left me alone!” You say, blame bombing your twin who looked at you with evil eyes.

♟️then Isaiah popped his head round “plus I wasn’t alone I was with Isaiah” you say matter-of-factly and Finn grits his jaw “what’ve I said about staying away from my fucking sister you fucking scrubber” Finn growls, landing a pent-up punch to Isaiah’s jaw who stumbled back slightly. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout fucking her did ya?” He retorted and then he was running for the hills with three brothers sprinting after him.

♟️”men.” Polly said with a roll of her eyes

Michael🎱

🎱he wouldn’t be here nor there

🎱loved how it looks on you

🎱but hates the fact that other men see you wearing it.

🎱he makes heart eyes when he sees you in it, believing it to be the typical dress of a wife and mother; so it pretty much feeds into his delusions.

🎱the only time it saw the light of day in public would’ve definitely been when he’d been courting you. When he’d been invited to some garden party of a rich aristocracy down southwards.

🎱what Tommy failed to mention was that the Capitalist had a daughter a few months younger than Michael, of whom was extremely well spoken, and ridiculously pretty.

🎱he’d obviously weaselled his way over to you and the rest was history.

🎱and of course, history tends to repeat itself.

🎱again, you were heading to a garden party: Shelby arranged this time around, to show your initial family that the marriage between yourself and Michael was going well and therefore Tommy’s expansion to a more wealthier estate was worth the investment.

🎱”I’ll meet you there darling, business to take care of.” Michael had told you that morning while adjusting his collar, allowing you to help him straighten the tie you had wrapped around his neck. “Okay” you hummed, he always loved how you’d never pried.

🎱in reality he was off to see a man about a dog, in other terms; kill a man. Kill a man who’d been eyeing you up like a fucking slice of meat the evening prior. Eyeing you like he wanted to eat you like a man starved, as if your husband didn’t have a firm arm wrapped around your waist and oversized number of carats around your finger.

🎱even had the nerve to try talk to you, had groped at your ass and Michael covered your eyes with one hand while he clocked the bloke around the jaw with the other.

🎱never wanted a woman to see him fight, especially his woman.

🎱so he went about killing the man the next day; well he’s probably dead by now. He took his cap calmly to the man, beneath that bridge by the canal, castrated then blinded the man and left him struggling on the ground, having a couple of lesser known Peaky men surveying the area for the rest of the day to make sure no aid was to come to him, and when his struggling stopped they were to sort his body out.

🎱you made your way to the garden party independently, having worn a darling sundress; white and pristine and freshly pressed, accompanied by a sun hat and some subtle shoes; conservative enough for Michael not to complain that you looked like a whore, but skin-showing enough not to overheat in this sweltering weather.

🎱you were there before Michael, embraced by John and given a kiss on the temple by an already tipsy Arthur who was in that sort of mood where a gent gets rather happy when squidgy, it was a fine line with Arthur.. happy to angered

🎱but you entertained him, saying your hellos and greeting the rest of the family you’d married into, patiently waiting for Michael’s attendance.

🎱he was there soon thereafter.

🎱and he was fucking seething.

🎱he took one look at you as his mouth ran dry, grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the garden getting countless opposing arguments from the likes of Ada and John questioning what he was doing

🎱but nothing could soften the red he saw.

🎱how dare you wear that dress?

🎱practically threw you into the car, you’d never seen him this upset, let alone have it take it out on you; his loving, doting housewife of whom he trophied for every mistake he made, initially he thought you were his punishment from god.. sent an angel for a devil to take care of. But he’d gotten the hang of switching into a loving husband the minute he returned home

🎱but tonight was different

🎱”Michael, darlin-” “how dare you?” He seethed and you silenced yourself “pardon?” “How many fucking times have I told you you’re not wearing this fucking dress in public, hmm? And you wear it around my fucking horny cousin?” He growls and you don’t know how to reply “he looks at you like you’re a fucking piece of meet, sweets.” He tells you, finally looking at you

🎱”undressing you with his eyes. Watched him myself.” “John has a wife-” “John hires prostitutes. Y’think he’d be a better husband?” He asks, knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel harder “no-” “no. Cause I’ve never hired a fuckin’ prostitute since we’ve been together, and I work hard for you, y’know. Got no where to take my anger out cause I love you so much.” He says and despite the harshness of his words your heart swells.

🎱”killed a man for you and I show up to you actin’ like a fuckin’ whore?” Your mouth opened agape and he chuckled darkly “think I didn’t kill that bloke? Think I’d leave him safe? Nah, not with my missus I wouldn’t” he confirms, placing a hand on your leg as he speeds back home.

🎱he stops the car and doesn’t move for a minute.

🎱”listen to me very carefully, flower. I’m going to change my bloody shirt, and you’re gonna go upstairs, lay on the bed and wait for me. Yeah?” He asks “yeah o’course Michael.” You say as you get out the car

🎱”and leave that fuckin’ dress on!” You hear called behind you.

Finn🎞️

🎞️Finn is just horny 25/8 icl.

🎞️doesn’t know what does it for him about that dress, but it does something.

🎞️it was a hot day, and the family was in some beer garden, Arthur already off his head drunk and the brothers just enjoying one another’s company after successfully ridding the threat of a rival family, the head now dead and the rest cowering to surrender.

🎞️Tommy told Finn to bring his lady friend, the one who worked at the bookshop along, decided it was time to meet the family, and so he did.

🎞️waltzed into your little hole in the wall, grinning as you peered your head around to see the customer who’d caused the door’s bell to chime, and you broke out into a mighty smile just as he did, him opening his arms for you to rush over and into a bone crushing hug.

🎞️even shared a sweet kiss as he said a gentle “hello pretty”

🎞️he noticed the dress you were wearing was new, initially not noticing it as he was too caught up in admiring you. “What’s this? Is it new?” He asked, taking your hand to spin you around. “It is” you grin, allowing the white flowing material to spin as he made you “it’s lovely” he says, noticing something about it but he didn’t know quite what.

🎞️”why are you here?” You hum with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you leant your chin against his dress “aren’t I allowed to say hello to my favourite girl?” He asks with a smirk “yes but I can tell there’s something. A look in your eyes.” You say and he sighs, defeated “party at the Garrison” he says “when?” You ask “right now” he says and you laugh “Finn I can’t just shut shop at 12 oclock on Thursday!” You say, as he reaches into his pocket, throwing ten whole pounds onto the counter “Finn! Where did you get that much money?” You gasp “don’t worry bout it. Enough for you to close?” He asks and you scoff “I can’t accept ten whole pounds, Finn” you tell him “sure you can cause I’m not having it back” he shrugs, pulling your hand to coax you out the door “okay fine!” You surrender as you relent, allowing Finn to pull you out the door and in turn, you lock your door behind you.

🎞️then when you showed to the party, you were greeted by tipsy cheers and hellos as Finn introduced you to his family, Polly and Ada immediately dragging you away to have a separate conversation as they question you about everything to which you giddily go along with.

🎞️John came to stand with Finn, where he was stood still; drink in hand as he watched you interact with his family. “What’s up, Finn?” He asked, nudging him with his elbow and Finn finally broke out of his trace to smile at his brother. “Nothin’.” He shrugged. “Can’t be about your missus, y’head over heels for her.” John said, and Finn immediately raised his brows in panic “no! no! Nothin’ like tha.” Finn said, shaking his head. “Then what is it?” John asked, looking at you, trying to figure his younger sibling out.

🎞️”dunno. It’s summot about that dress” Finn said, eyes raking over you as he tried to figure out what it was and his brother chuckles “easy access, mate.” John said and Finn creased his brows “y’what?” “Sundresses mate, fuckin’ kill me. Easy access innit? Don’t have to even take the dress off” John told him matter-of-factly, necking the rest of his beer in one. Finn’s eyes darkened and John couldn’t hold in his laugh at the realisation that Finn had settled that that was what it was.

🎞️John claps him on the back “if y’wanna sneak off I’ll cover” he said, but by the end of the sentence Finn had already started after you “cheers, mate!” He said to John “sorry, stealing her” he said to Polly and Ada against their judgement, dragging you away from the conversation and into the Peaky office inside the Garrison.

🎞️you giggle at his actions as he locked the dork “what y’doin sill?” You ask “party’s outside!” You say, as he picks you up and holds you against the door, dropping his hands for them to head under the hem of your skirt “right, ‘nd I’ve just figured out that this dress is driving me fuckin’ crazy” he says “you’re fuckin’ insatiable” he says “d’you even know what that means?” You ask and he shrugs “find me a dictionary later or summot.” He says

🎞️”what’s up with the dress” you ask, as he undoes his trousers “easy access innit?”

Aberama🌞

🌞Aberama is a cultured bloke

🌞by that I mean he’s had many a trips around the sun, and in that time good women are few and far between in his opinion

🌞so regardless of you being substantially his younger, he was positive that you were the woman for him and therefore he had to have you.

🌞recently you’d moved into his vardo with him, having left the urban life behind.

🌞he’d woken up one morning to the sun blaring at him through the unclad opening of the vardo, stretching his arms above his head in a mighty yawn, almost certain it was almost midday by this point; especially after the long trek they’d had to get to this sight the night prior.

🌞he reached his arm over, but the spot in the bed was cold and empty, a lone spot where you should’ve been laid. He creased his brows, shooting up in bed to a sitting potion, realising that you were no longer in the vardo at all.

🌞he groaned. Damn you and your early rising tendencies.

🌞he rubbed his eyes and pulled on a pair of undershorts, smirking at the remembrance of the night prior once you’d arrived. He popped his head out of the doorway, looking left and right but curiously not being able to find any trace of you.

🌞he climbed down the steps and placed his hands on his hips, walking around the side of the wooden structure towards the lake that trickled slowly downstream. And that’s where he found you:

🌞his gorgeous bride.

🌞he’d always told you that he never expected you to conform to the traditional gypsy wife role, never needed you to bear him any more children or do the cooking or cleaning. Hell, you could lay around all day doing nothing and he’d look at you with the same adoration he always does. He didn’t even expect you to want to live in a vardo, yet you’d shown up with a bag and a smile when offered.

🌞 yet you refused, you demanded to help. Demanded to conform. You would cook the rabbit he’d kill (given you’d been a bit sick at the initial sight of it). And you’d kill his clothes, paying no mind to any blood shed on it.

🌞you were knelt against the river bank, ringing some clothes out you just washed then placing them into a small wicker basket, in a dress he didn’t quite recognise.

🌞”what y’doin up, sweetheart? Thought I told y’to relax today” he started, beginning towards you. Your head spun and those wide, innocent doe eyes gleamed back at him “had a big journey last night. No good f’little girls to be working the day after” he said, matter of factly with a stern look.

🌞”just wanted to get these clothes washed” you mumble, placing the final garment in the basket. “And what’s this you’ve got on, hmm?” He asked, as you look at your clothes “oh it’s a dress” “Mm I can see that, darlin. Just never seen it before” he tells you and you stand to give him a little spin. “My sister bought it for my birthday” you said and he grunts, gently grabbing your hips to pull you into him and sway you back and forth along with the breeze, dancing to nature’s music.

🌞”well y’know what these dresses are?” He hums and you shake your head, placing both hands on his chest. “These dresses are the kind that mammys wear. The kind you’d wear when they’re all pregnant and swelled up with little babes.” He says, accusingly. “Kind that little wives wear that are asking for a hiding” he warns

🌞”didn’t mean nothing by it, abe. Just thought it was nice” you admit and he smiles “I know you did, princess. Just an innocent little flower y’are.” He shakes his head.

🌞”but y’ve seen the other mammys around the camp haven’t you? Seen how they’ve dressed. Think you know what you were doin’ to your old man” he teases and you shake your head “m too old to be a da’ y’know. Way too bleeding old. Punishing me ain’t ya? Just asking for a little’un” he tuts and you giggle as he picks you up bridal style and carries you back to the bed where he’d began

🌞”Aberama! The clothes!-” “Can fuckin’ wait” he grunts “got a little’un to put in ya first” he says, dropping you onto the bed and lazily flipping up your skirt to do what he did best.

🌞make your skin fucking crawl.

2K notes · View notes

reiwanwan · 1 month ago

Text

A place for the broken

As a child, your mother warned you about the monsters that lay in the woods. But now that she’s gone, you’re left to wander on your own. That’s until you decide to go into the woods to find a missing cattle and you’re met with the monster himself .

Vampire!Alfie and Human!reader. Note that the reader, is 18 and this story is no way intended to be romantic but only platonic

Word count: 4k

content warning: Blood, violence-mentions of unaliving someone.

“Beware the man in the woods, hidden among the tall trees, lurking in the shadows, preying on the weak.”

That was the warning whispered by your mother, passed down to every child in the village—a tale spun to instill fear and vigilance. It wasn’t just a story; it was warning against the enemy who lived on the fringes of your world. Alfie, the Terrible.

He was said to be a giant of a man, towering over his prey like a shadow cast by the moon. Vicious and merciless, he left no trace of life in his victims’ eyes as he discarded their bodies like refuse. Rumors painted him as a monster, his face so grotesque that a single glance was enough to fill one’s heart with dread. His voice, rough and guttural, was laced with venom, spitting curses at those who dared to scream for mercy.

You had never seen this man, but the stories had a way of sinking into your bones. You believed in Alfie’s existence—how could you not? The village itself seemed shaped by fear, its people exhausting themselves in rituals to ward off vampires, beasts, and other creatures that lurked in the dark.

And yet, a part of you wasn’t satisfied. The tales that frightened others only fueled your curiosity. You wondered what truth lay buried beneath the legends. Who was Alfie, really? Was he the monster they described, or was there something more?

But such questions would have to wait. Today was not a day for curiosity. Today was a day for grief.

It had been a year since your mother had succumbed to tuberculosis, leaving you orphaned and alone. Your father had vanished before you were old enough to remember him, and there were no siblings to share the weight of your loss.

“It takes a village to raise a child,” they liked to say. But you knew better. The village had turned its back on you long ago. No one cared for you or your mother. She was a whore, and you were her shadow, wandering the village aimlessly while she worked through the night, her shifts stretching into the pale hours of dawn.

You scoffed at the memory of those hollow words, the empty promises of community and care. The village hadn’t raised you; it had abandoned you. And now, as you prepared to mark another year without her, you felt the weight of that truth pressing down harder than ever.

You were called “trouble” for as long as you could remember. While your mother worked with her clients, you wandered the market, searching for scraps of leftover food. Hunger was a constant ache, gnawing at your insides, a relentless reminder of how little your mother could provide. Most days, your stomach growled louder than the chatter of the villagers.

One day, when you were just eight, you spotted a stall selling fresh bread. The golden crust gleamed under the sun, and the smell wafting through the air made your mouth water. The stall owner was deep in conversation with his friends, his attention elsewhere. Your stomach twisted painfully, and desperation overtook caution. Slowly, you crept toward the stall, heart pounding, and snatched a loaf.

But before you could slip away, a rough hand grabbed your wrist.

“Oi, child! Put that bread back where you bloody took it from!” the stall owner bellowed, his voice booming across the market. His grip was unyielding, and his shout drew the attention of everyone around. Heads turned, eyes filled with disapproval and disgust.

“S-sir, please… I’m sorry… but I’m so hungry,” you stammered, your voice cracking as tears welled in your eyes. You tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

“Sorry’s not going to cut it!” he spat, his face twisted with anger. “If you’re hungry, you pay like the rest of us! Go ask that whore mother of yours to feed her child, yeah?”

His words cut deep, sharper than any knife. Even as a child, you understood what being the child of a whore meant in this village. Shame burned in your chest, and your eyes dropped to the ground. Slowly, you placed the loaf back on the counter, your hands trembling. Without another word, you walked away, your head bowed low as the villagers whispered behind your back. You didn’t need to hear the words to know they weren’t kind.

You found a quiet corner away from the market and slid down against the wall. Exhaustion weighed heavy on you, your body curling in on itself as you held your empty stomach. The sky darkened, and your mother was still nowhere to be found. Your eyelids grew heavy, and despite the discomfort, sleep began to claim you.

But then, a cold hand rested gently on your shoulder.

Your eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, struggling to make sense of the figure before you. The world spun, and your vision blurred, but the voice was clear—soft, almost tender.

“Eat, child,” it said.

A hand brushed through your messy hair, the gesture so gentle it reminded you of how your mother used to soothe you to sleep. Before you could respond, the figure was gone, leaving behind only the faintest trace of their presence.

When your vision cleared, you looked down and gasped. There, in front of you, was the same loaf of bread you had tried to steal—along with several others. You scanned the area, fear and disbelief mingling in your chest. Was this a trick? A cruel joke from the other children?

But the bread was real. Slowly, hesitantly, you reached for it. You tore off a small piece and brought it to your mouth, unsure if it would vanish the moment you bit into it. But the softness of the bread melted on your tongue, and the floodgates opened. You devoured the rest, taking hurried bites, afraid it might disappear if you waited too long.

This wasn’t the last time.

Over the years, it became impossible to ignore the mysterious figure who seemed to appear whenever you were at your lowest. You convinced yourself they were a guardian angel sent to protect you.

At sixteen, you found yourself sobbing alone in your small home. The other children had tormented you again, their cruel words cutting deeper than you cared to admit. “A whore’s child,” they sneered, their laughter echoing in your ears long after they had gone.

As you sat in your kitchen, head buried in your hands, you heard a knock at the window. Startled, you wiped your tears and cautiously approached. Swinging it open, you were greeted by the cool night air—and a single carnation flower resting on your bed.

Your breath hitched as you picked it up, cradling it in your hands. The petals were soft, vibrant, and full of life—a stark contrast to the emptiness you felt inside. Holding the flower close to your heart, you whispered a prayer.

“Lord, if you hear me, please send my gratitude to the kind angel watching over me.”

You held the carnation tightly, its delicate beauty a small reminder that even in your darkest moments, someone, somewhere out there cared.

At 18, life had become a little easier for you. Your guardian angel, who once appeared so often, now visited less frequently. You had managed to secure a job working on a farm, taking care of cattle and horses. Harold, the farmer—a man in his 30s—had reluctantly hired you when you were 17, shortly after your mother passed away. Despite his initial hesitation, Harold had been kind, paying you fairly. Your earnings were enough to buy food for the week and replace your torn, ragged blouse.

But lately, things on the farm had taken a turn.

“God damn it, who’s been stealing the fucking cows?” Harold grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. It was the third cow gone this week. The first time it happened, Harold had found one of the cows dead near the woods. Even you were growing annoyed with the disappearances—it was making your job harder.

“I can try finding the thief, Harold,” you offered.

“Nah, that’s alright, Y/N. You just go take care of the horses.”

You nodded and left it at that, heading to the stables. There, you brushed and detangled the horses’ manes, scrubbed their fur, and fed them. But as you worked, you heard the faint sound of footsteps near the cattle. Your heart quickened—this had to be the thief. Quietly, you followed the sound, slipping through the trees and into the woods where the first cow had been found.

The figure you had been tracking came into view—a tall man, his shadow sharp against the fading light.

“So, you’ve caught up to me, haven’t ya?” he said without turning around.

“Why have you been stealing the cows from the farm?” you demanded, trying to sound firm despite the trembling in your voice.

He turned to face you, and for the first time, you saw him clearly—a rugged, bearded man with eyes that were impossible to read.

“Well, treacle, I’ve been hungry, haven’t I? Forgive me this once, will you, Y/N?” His tone was playful, almost teasing, but the mention of your name made you freeze.

“How do you know my name?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes soften when he notices, he stares at you for a moment before reaching his hands into the pocket in his coat. He pulled out a tiny pony figurine. And you recognised it almost immediately. It was a toy that your mother had gotten for you to play with while she was away. It was broken in half.

“That was yours, wasn’t it? I found it when you were just a little thing, sleeping near the market. I wanted to give it back, but it was broken. Couldn’t give a child a broken toy, now could I?”

And then it all started to make sense.

This was the man that had been watching over you when you were 8. The man you regarded as your guardian angel.

“You remember me now love, don’t ya?” he says with a wide smile and from the corner of his mouth you could see the unmistakable fangs glistening under the sunlight.

Your eyes widened slightly and he chuckled softly.

“And you’ve now found out what I am too, what a great day for me”.

This was Alfie—the terrible vampire you’d heard so many stories about from villagers and even your mother. But he wasn’t the vicious, heartless monster they had described. He was just… a man. A man with scars, rugged skin, and a voice that was gruff but kind.

“You are Alfie?…The terrible? the one who gave me bread from the market when I was sleeping?”

“Oh please, do thank me later treacle” he teases.

“The one people say eats people and throws their bodies aside?”

He smirked. “That’s me, alright.” Then, with a softer tone, he added, “And you’ve turned out to be a wonderful girl.”

You scoffed at his words. “Wonderful? That’s not how others would describe me.”

“Yeah, but that’s how I’d describe you,” he replied without hesitation.

The both of you stood in silence for a bit until you decided to speak up.

“Why’d you give me the bread that day? and the flowers too.”

Well, I couldn’t just let you starve, could I? And as for the flower—your window was open, love. Didn’t anyone tell you to keep it shut at night? To protect yourself from monsters like me?” He gestured theatrically, making you laugh despite yourself.

“You could’ve left me to starve” you said, half-teasing.

“Yeah, but I didn’t. Guess I’m a good guy after all. I couldn’t stand seeing a little thing like you wandering around alone. I’ve lived long enough to know what it’s like to grow up with no one.”

You couldn’t believe it. A so-called heartless monster like him felt sympathy for a mere human like you. Why did people create stories about him, if his heart was so full of kindness? His presence was warm. Sometimes you would know when he was around when the cold air around you became warm, blanketing you in the coldest nights.

“Thank you for taking care of me, you’re my guardian angel” you thanked him, walking closer and held his hands. He held yours back, his rough palms enveloping yours.

He snickered at your comment. “Guardian angel?, my love I am nothing but a useless monster”

You shook her head and squeezed his hands tightly. “That’s not true at all Alfie…you were there for me, you comforted me, you were there”.

He looked at you with a gaze so soft, it felt like a warm,comforting embrace. One that you never knew you needed before. His hands combed down your hair and he looked at you as if you were prized possession.

Alfie shakes his head and straightens his back, “well, I’m sorry for the cows, I like those better than humans, animal blood. Humans yeah? taste fuckin awful, like a load of shit it does”. You laughed at his joke. You don’t remember how long it has been since you laughed so genuinely with someone, and Alfie made it happen.

“You’ve grown so much haven’t ya? ah, look what you’ve done to me…I’m becoming a sappy bastard now, haven’t been like this in a while now”

You tilted your head curiously, “How old are you?”. He looked up and seemed to be counting the numbers with his fingers.

“About maybe 187 years old? give or take. Oh, I don’t remember, I’ve stopped counting after 100, I’ve only got 10 bloody fingers haven’t I?”

“Now, love,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “you’d best get back. Harold’ll be worried sick.”

You nodded and began walking back but stopped halfway, turning to look at him one last time.

“Thanks for everything, Alfie.”

“Take care, my Love”

Harold spotted you running down from the woods, his expression unreadable as he watched your hurried approach.

“Harold, I was trying to find the guy who keeps stealing the cows. I’m sorry for leaving the horses unattended…I can work extra hours to make up for it,” you offered, guilt lacing your tone.

He regarded you for a moment, his face still carrying that strange look—worry? Doubt? You couldn’t quite name it.

“Look, you know what? It’s late. Go home and come back tomorrow,” he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. Yet, that expression lingered, and it gnawed at you even as you nodded and turned away.

When you finally arrived home and laid your head on the pillow, your thoughts refused to settle. They drifted back to Alfie. The stories you had heard painted him as grotesque and terrifying, a monster to be feared. But the man you met in the woods was nothing like those tales.

Yes, his face bore scars, and his blind eye was a stark reminder of battles fought and wounds endured. But even so, you had looked at him—not with fear, but with something far deeper. Admiration, perhaps. Or maybe even love, though it felt too soon to name it. It was as if you had known him your whole life, as if his presence had always been a part of you, quietly watching over you in the shadows.

Why would a monster—a vampire, no less—choose to show such kindness to a mere orphan? Why did the villagers call him merciless and ferocious when his touch and his words were anything but? His voice had been gentle, his gaze warm, his very presence soothing, like a balm to the ache in your heart.

The world, it seemed, judged too quickly. People saw only what was on the surface, never pausing to consider what lay beneath. They feared what was different, what was broken, what was damaged.

But you had learned, even as a child, that everyone carried their own damage. Everyone was broken in some way, shaped by the weight of things they had endured. It was this shared brokenness that should have united people, yet it only seemed to drive them apart.

Lying there in the quiet of your room, you couldn’t stop wondering why Alfie had chosen you. Why he had cared enough to watch over you, to offer you bread and flowers, to keep you warm on cold nights. He was no monster. He was no vampire.

He was an angel. An angel for someone like you.

The deafening noise of an angry mob outside your home tore you violently from your slumber. Jolting upright, you stumbled to the window, your heart hammering in your chest. Outside, the entire village had gathered, their faces contorted with rage, their voices a chaotic cacophony of chants and shouted profanities. They pounded on your door with a furious intensity that made the walls tremble.

Panic gripped you as you scrambled out of bed and threw open the door.

“What is the meaning of all this?” you demanded, though your voice quivered with fear.

From the crowd, a man’s voice rang out above the noise. “You’ve been seen speaking with Alfie the Terrible! Conspiring with that monster from the woods! You must have connections to other creatures—dark, wicked creatures. You’re a cursed girl!”

The crowd roared in agreement.

“Yes, Harold told us!” a woman shrieked, her voice cutting through the din. “He saw you in the woods with him. We were right about you all along! You’ve brought nothing but trouble since the day you were born!”

“We should kill her!” another villager shouted. “Rid ourselves of her evil before she brings more misfortune!”

The mob erupted into cheers, their collective fury swelling as several villagers surged forward. Rough hands grabbed you, pulling you from your doorstep and dragging you through the streets.

“Please!” you begged, your voice breaking as they carried you toward the village pond. “You’re wrong! I’m not conspiring with anyone! You don’t understand!”

But they didn’t listen.

“Alfie’s heart is pure! He’s not what you think he is!” you cried, your voice desperate and raw. “Please, you’re mistaken!”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, drowned out by the mob’s chants. Your eyes darted frantically through the crowd, searching for a lifeline, someone who might listen. Then you saw him—Harold. His gaze met yours for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment. You thought you saw regret flicker across his face, but it was gone before you could be sure.

Strong hands yanked your arms behind your back, twisting them painfully. You struggled, but they pinned you in place, forcing you toward the pond. Another hand grabbed your head and shoved it down into the icy water.

The cold was a shock that stole your breath, your screams reduced to a muffled gurgle. You thrashed, your lungs burning as they filled with water.

In those harrowing moments, your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t control. Memories, regrets, and a deep, aching question: Why? Why did the world turn so easily against you? Why were you punished simply for existing, for a life you never chose?

The mob’s cheers roared in your ears, but they seemed distant, fading as your strength ebbed away. Your struggles slowed, then ceased altogether.

When your body went limp, they released you, letting you fall lifelessly to the muddy bank. Someone bent down to check for a pulse.

“No pulse,” they declared coldly. “Finally, some dirt off our plates.”

The villagers erupted into cheers, celebrating your death as though it were some great victory. One by one, they dispersed, their voices fading into the night.

And there you lay, your lifeless body abandoned by the pond, left alone beneath the cold, uncaring sky.

The villagers’ celebration echoed through the woods, carrying laughter and cheers on the wind. Alfie paused mid-stride, his sharp ears catching the noise. He grunted, assuming it was one of their usual meaningless rituals or festivals. He rarely paid attention to the village’s affairs, only ever venturing near when he wanted to check on you. But tonight, an unshakable sense of unease settled in his chest, pulling him toward the source of the commotion.

As he approached the pond, the cheers grew louder, mingling with the crackle of torches and the clinking of mugs. Alfie’s sharp eyes scanned the area, his presence cloaked in shadows as he moved silently through the trees. He’d always prided himself on how easily he could observe these fools without being noticed. They were blind, ignorant, too wrapped up in their small, pitiful lives to sense the predator in their midst.

But as he drew closer, something caught his eye—a figure lying motionless by the water.

“Poor lad,” he muttered, shaking his head. It wasn’t uncommon for the villagers to leave their drunk or wounded behind. He was about to turn away when a sickening realization struck him.

His breath hitched.

No.

His pace quickened, his heart pounding as he closed the distance. And when he finally reached the body, his worst fears were confirmed.

It was you.

For a moment, the world around him blurred. He dropped to his knees, scooping your lifeless form into his arms. His fingers trembled as they pressed against the side of your neck, searching desperately for a pulse.

Nothing.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice breaking. “Fuck, no, no, no. How could I not have seen this? How could I let this happen?”

His curses grew louder, more frantic, as he cradled you closer. Your skin was cold, your lips tinged blue, and your once-bright eyes were shut, sunken into your pale face.

“Is alright, yeah?” His voice cracked, shaking as he pressed his forehead against yours. “Alfie’s here, ain’t he? No one’s gonna hurt ya anymore, I swear it. I fucking promise.”

But the promises fell into the void, unanswered. You were gone.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, holding you as though he could somehow will you back to life. Finally, he stood, your body still in his arms, and began walking toward the village.

When he arrived, the villagers were in the midst of their revelry, toasting and laughing in the glow of bonfires. They didn’t notice him at first, too consumed by their own cruelty. But as he stepped into the light, their laughter died. One by one, they turned, their faces draining of color as they realized who stood before them.

Alfie Solomons.

The monster from the woods.

The tales they’d whispered about in fear had come to life, and he was more terrifying than they’d imagined. But what froze them wasn’t his scarred face or his towering presence—it was the sight of you, lifeless in his arms.

“Someone,” Alfie growled, his voice low and dangerous, “better fucking explain.”

The villagers shrank back, their terror palpable. No one dared to speak until, finally, one trembling man stepped forward and stammered out the truth.

Alfie listened in silence, his expression darkening with every word. When the man finished, Alfie let out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“Right,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “So that’s it, yeah? You killed her. Killed her for talking to me.”

He looked down at you, his jaw tightening as he fought to contain the rage boiling inside him.

“I thought, after all the centuries I’ve lived, I might see some bloody change in this world. Some shred of decency in humanity. But no. You lot are just as vile as you’ve always been. Worse, even.”

He raised his voice, his words cutting through the silence like a blade.

“You see her? This lovely little girl here?” He held you up slightly, his arms trembling with fury. “She’s dead. Dead because of you. And for what? For showing me kindness? For being the only bloody person in this cursed place with a heart?”

The villagers cowered, their eyes darting between him and the lifeless body in his arms.

“You don’t deserve to look at her,” Alfie snarled, his voice shaking with grief and anger. “Let alone bury her. But you’ll do it. You’ll make it bloody perfect, or I’ll show you just how real your stupid fucking tales are. Understand?”

Terrified, the villagers nodded, scrambling to obey.

Alfie stayed long enough to ensure they followed his orders, his piercing gaze never leaving them. And when the grave was finished, he placed you in it himself, his hands trembling as he arranged you gently, as though you were merely sleeping.

As the years passed, Alfie remained by your grave, a steadfast guardian of your memory. The seasons changed, the world around him aged, but he did not. His immortal body remained untouched by time, though his heart bore the heavy weight of grief.

Every day, he tended to your grave with meticulous care, clearing away fallen leaves, planting flowers, and ensuring the earth above you stayed undisturbed. He carved your name into the stone with his own hands, the lettering rough but heartfelt. When villagers passed by, trying to offer help, he would grumble and wave them off, his tone sharp but his actions gentle.

At first, the villagers feared him, their offerings of animal blood and trinkets left trembling at the edge of the graveyard. Alfie would glare at the gifts, muttering curses under his breath, but he never refused them. Over time, their fear softened into wary respect, and eventually, acceptance.

Generations came and went, and Alfie became a fixture in the village’s history. Parents would point him out to their children, telling the tale of the girl who showed kindness to the monster of the woods, and how her death had changed everything.

“Don’t be afraid of him,” they would say. “He won’t hurt you. He’s just looking after her.”

The children, wide-eyed and curious, would sometimes approach him, though always at a safe distance. Alfie would pretend not to notice, grumbling as he pruned the flowers or swept away debris, but deep down, their innocent acceptance warmed something inside him.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why had it taken your death for the villagers to stop fearing him? Why did humanity only seem capable of kindness when faced with loss?

For years, the question gnawed at him, but as time wore on, he grew less bitter. He came to accept that this was simply the way of humanity—flawed, fearful, but capable of change, even if it came too late.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the graveyard in hues of gold and amber, Alfie sat beside your grave, his back resting against the weathered stone.

“Y’know, love,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, “I reckon you’d be laughing at me right now. Sitting here all these years, sulking like a bloody fool.”

He chuckled, though it was tinged with sadness.

“They don’t fear me anymore, can you believe that? Took your death to make it happen, though. That’s humanity for ya, innit? Always takes a bloody tragedy to make ’em see straight.”

He leaned his head back, gazing up at the sky as the first stars began to appear.

“But I get it now. People are what they are. Broken, scared, and stupid, yeah, but… they’ve got their moments.”

A breeze rustled the trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers. Alfie closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the evening settle over him.

“I’ll stay, though. Long as it takes. Make sure they remember you proper. You deserved better, love. But I’ll keep your story alive. Promise.”

And so, Alfie remained, the eternal guardian of your grave. The villagers and their descendants came to see him not as a monster, but as a part of their history, a reminder of the kindness that once bridged the gap between fear and understanding.

In the end, he found a strange kind of peace in his vigil, knowing that even in death, you had left a mark on the world—and on him—that would never fade.

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tommyshelbyswh0re · 1 year ago

Text

the forgotten daughter- Tommy Shelby

summary- tommy sent his daughter away because she was a burden he wasn’t ready for. she went 12 years without seeing him once, what happens when she gets an invitation to his wedding?

trigger warning- talks of abuse, neglect, rape, violence, illness.

angst

dad!tommy shelby x daughter!reader

you were 6 when you were sent away to a girls school in manchester. your father, thomas shelby, had told you that ‘he couldn’t be a father’ and that he was ‘too busy to be burdened with a child’. you were now 18 and hadn’t seen your family since. the last time you had received a letter from your father was when you were 17 and it was to inform you about the birth of his son, charles shelby.

you were enraged. it was unfair that he saw charles as a blessing and you as a burden. that he could step up to be a father then but not 17 years ago. you had practically raised yourself for the last 12 years. every birthday you stole a cupcake from the canteen at the school and sung yourself happy birthday. every christmas you receive pitying looks from the nuns because you were one of the only children to stay in the four walls of your dormitory whilst all the other girls spent time with their families.

you had just finished your last year and was lucky enough to get a job straight out of straight out of school which allowed you to buy yourself a small flat. you sent a letter to your father to let him know that you were safe and you gave him your address although you never knew whether he received the letter because he never wrote back. until a week ago when he sent you a wedding invitation.

deciding to attend was the easiest decision. you knew you wanted to see him one last time before you ultimately cut all communication and moved on, knowing that there was no point in hoping he would acknowledge you as his daughter. you were however grateful that he paid for your education, even if he did abandon you for 12 years.

you used your savings to buy a new dress before getting the train to birmingham and paying for a taxi to the church. as you stood outside the venue you pondered on whether this was a good idea, but you knew you had to do this in order to accept that you were alone in this world. you sat at the back with your head down for the entirety of the ceremony. you didn’t even put your head up to see the bride. as selfish as it sounded, you didn’t care for the wedding and you did not care about their happiness.

when the ceremony was finished, you stood outside of the church with a cigarette in your hand whilst your ‘family’ took photos. next to you, a gentleman was doing the same thing. he was also glaring at the family and you wondered what his issue was.

“what did they do to you?” you scoffed.

“huh?” he raised his brow

“if looks could kill, they’d be slaughtered by now” you joked.

“i just don’t like the groom” he shrugged.

“me neither” you agreed. “y/n” you reached your hand out to shake his.

“alfie” he reciprocated. “so why don’t you like him?” he asked.

“im his daughter” you nonchalantly replied.

“never new tom had a daughter”

“yeah he seems to forget aswell” you shrugged.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“it means he shipped me away for 12 years whilst he fucked off and had a family” you smiled. “fancy giving me a lift to this reception?” you linked his arm.

“absolutely. i think we will get along just fine” he grunted. and you smiled at him.

you both walked to his car and he held the door open for you. “didn’t take you for a gentleman” you bantered.

“is it the cockney accent that gave you that impression?” he wondered. which made you laugh.

“i suppose so” you climbed into the passenger seat and he climbed into the drivers. he started the car and drove towards what you were guessing was your fathers house, not that you’d ever been there.

“so tell me about the relationship with your father y/n” he delved straight in.

“wow you waste no time” you scoffed. “well he impregnated my mother, she died during childbirth, he lazily raised me for 6 years before telling me he couldn’t be a father and shipped me off to boarding school in manchester for 12 years and didn’t visit me once” you shrugged. it didn’t bother you anymore. you have accepted that even though he’s your dad, he’s never really been your father. he never tucked you into bed and read you a bedtime story, he never looked after you when you were ill, he never threatened your first date when he came to the door, he never took you for your first alcoholic drink and he will never walk you down the aisle at your wedding. and even though sometimes you just really need your father to tell you everything is going to be ok, you have been alone for 12 years and managed. you can go the rest of your life.

“oh. daddy issues then?” he tried to banter which made you laugh.

“you could say so yes” you replied.

“so if he’s such a shit dad why did you come to the wedding?” he pondered.

“i need closure. after this we will never ever speak again. all form of communication will be cut off.” you said with confidence.

“fair enough” alfie replied. he felt bad for the girl. she had never had a parent in her life. she had been neglected. and he could tell that even though she gave off the impression that she wasn’t bothered by it, he knew she was hurt deep down. so he left it at that.

for the rest of the drive you spoke about all sorts. your job, where you live, his job and where he lives. it was nice. and when your ‘fathers’ house came into view, you were in shock.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you whispered under your breathe. you don’t know why it was the house that made your heart drop, but it was a reminder that you were unwanted. that your father had abandoned you and started a new family that he lived with and looked after in the ridiculously large fucking house. and then came the lump in your throat.

“you ok?” alfie asked. he could tell that she was not.

you took a deep breath. “yes” you nodded and got out of the car. all the guests started showing up at the same time. you waited for alfie to get out of the car before you went in. he linked arms with you and you both walked in.

the first thing you saw was a stair case with large portraits of the family of three. it made you laugh.

“arrogant arseholes” you whispered to alfie which made him laugh. and it was then that you really looked at them. there was a portrait of what you’re guessing is your father, his new wife and his child. that was the first time you saw mrs grace shelby and charles shelby. and as bad as it sounds, you resented them. you resented grace for not encouraging your father to get to know you which sounds stupid and irrational but you couldn’t help it. you knew logically that it’s not your fault that the relationship between you and your father was none existent. it was his. and you resented charles for having the father you needed and wanted. that was supposed to be you. and again it’s irrational because he’s a child and it’s not his fault but you just felt so angry. so you looked away.

a waiter passed by with a tray of champagne and took a flute and chugged it. this concerned alfie. he didn’t want you to get drunk and say something to your ‘family’ that you would later regret.

“go easy” he sternly told you.

you glared at him.

from the other side of the room, john and arthur had noticed you.

“who is that linking arms with alfie?” arthur asked john.

“i think it might be y/n” john squinted.

“y/n y/n, as in tommy daughter y/n?” arthur responded.

“yeah, kind of looks like ‘er” john smiled.

“well why the fuck has she got her arm around alfie soloman’s” arthur said angrily.

“i don’t know, he’s like 15 years older than her” john looked confused. before tommy came up behind them. “need you in the kitchen now” tommy demanded.

“did you know y/n is here?” john asked him.

“who?” tommy asked

“your daughter, y/n” said arthur.

“what? where?” tommy looked around before he saw you.

“why the fuck is she linking alfie, and why is she downing champagne? she’s a child” tommy asked.

“that’s what we were wondering. and tommy she’s not a child, she’s like 18 now isn’t she?” john asked.

just as tommy hummed, he made eye contact with you and it was you who looked away as soon as it happened. he truly saw you for the first time in 12 years. you were a woman now. he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were. you looked like the spitting image of your mother with your y/e/c coloured eyes and your soft y/h/c coloured hair. and all of a sudden he had a wave of guilt come over him. he knew he’d been a shitty father towards you, but he never really thought about it until that moment. he felt like shit and so he did what he does best and walked away.

on the other side of the room, you had just made eye contact with your father for the first time in 12 years. you had seen him in the papers so you knew he hadn’t really changed. but making eye contact felt so awkward for you. this was the man whose dna you shared and yet you felt no father-daughter connection with him. you just felt hurt. and so you chugged another flute of champagne. to which alfie’s concern grew even more.

the announcement was made that there was food in the other room as they asked everyone to move there.

you and alfie made your way to the table. you sat next to eachother. you looked around and saw your great aunt pol sat opposite you.

“is that you y/n?” she smiled.

“hello” you suddenly felt shy.

“hello darling” she replied. sat next to her was ada.

“how have you been y/n?” she asked.

“good, i graduated school”

“oh brilliant, do you work?” pol asked

“yes, i have a secretary job working at a factory and i’m a barmaid on the weekends”

“why two jobs?” ada asked

“moneys tight, have to be able to pay the bills on my flat”

“tom doesn’t give you money?” she responded

“why would he?” you asked.

“because you’re his daughter” ada said to which you shrugged. this conversation made pol and ada sad. they realised they truly knew nothing about you and your life. they also knew that tommy hadn’t been the best to you, but again, it didn’t dawn on them how neglectful they had also been.

“you recently turned 18 didn’t you?” pol asked.

“yes”

“did you do anything for your birthday?” she asked.

“not really. just went to work, went to the bakery on the way back home and bought a cupcake and went to bed” you shrugged. that was your routine of 12 years.

“you didn’t celebrate with friends?” they asked

“don’t have any” your shrugged.

“what about school friends?”

“well they all knew eachother because their parents were friends so they would see eachother outside of school” and this made pol and ada feel even worse, you truly were alone.

“well i’m sorry we didn’t come and see you, we were just so busy preparing the wedding” ada smiled.

“it’s ok, i didn’t expect anyone to”

arthur got up from his seat to do the best man speech.

“hello everyone, before you eat i just want to say a few words as best man. my brother tommy met grace in 1919, obviously at that point we didn’t know she was a spy from the parish” at this, you looked up to the top of the table for the first time to see arthur and john for the first time, and then you looked towards your dad. he had an uncomfortable face on him, obviously not expected arthur to bring such a thing up in his speech.

you chugged another flute of champagne. and now, alfie, pol and ada all grew concern for you.

“-anyway, enough about that. these two were destined for eachother. if tom can forgive her for it then it shows how much he loves her. tom doesn’t really love anyone besides grace and charles” and at this, your father looked in your direction to see you chugging another flute of champagne. your 4th in the space of an hour. his eyebrow raised.

“-they are the perfect family. tommy, grace and charles. when grace was pregnant with charles you should have seen tommy. constantly talking about how this is all he’s ever wanted. he was bouncing of the walls” a lump formed in your throat. because he already had a child. you.

ada and pol looked in your direction to see your head facing down and you picking at your nails. a nervous habit you have.

“when charles was born, you couldn’t get the smile off tommys face for weeks. it’s obvious he loves his little family. it didn’t take long for tommy to finally start taking days off work for once to take grace and charles on days out. i remember the first time tommy took a week off to take charles away in the caravan.”

you could feel your heart beat speeding up and tears forming in your eyes. and you sneakily tried to wipe them away. but alfie noticed. and he placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed it.

“i remember the dark circles under his eyes when charles had a cold and wouldn’t settle and tommy had been up with him all night”

your dad looked in your direction to see you wiping a tear off you face and put your head up. and he saw the disappointment in your eyes. and he was disappointed in himself. he knew then that he hadn’t been a father towards you. he can’t remember a single night where he stayed up with you as a child and helped settle you. it was mostly ada and pol who raised you for them 6 years.

“grace. we love you, you came into tommys life and made it better. you gave him something to live for, a child” at this you stood up and walked out of the room. at this it dawned on all the family what had happened. arthur hadn’t realised how big he was fucking up until your shoes clacked against the floor as you speed walked out of the room. “shit” tom whispered. grace looked very confused as to what was happening. alfie stood up and went after you.

he found you sat on a step with your head in your hands. he quietly sat next to you and out his hand on your back and rubbed it. neither of you said anything and you just sat there and cried for the first time in 4 years.

a minute later, tommy came out. alfie glared at him. “go away mate” he whispered gesturing to you crying.

“i want to speak to my daughter privately” tommy demanded.

“haven’t you done enough. why now?” alfie asked him as he got up of the step.

“please” tommy pleaded. he looked desperate.

“don’t say anything stupid” alfie warned as he walked back into the other room. tommy sat next to you. you still had your face in your hands and he could just hear you sniffling. it broke his heart.

“im sorry y/n i know i haven’t been the best father” you scoffed.

“you’ve not been a father at all” you muffled from behind your hands.

“i know” he nodded.

“i haven’t been there for you at all. especially in the last 12 years. but i want to start” he tried to put his hand on your shoulder but you shrugged it off. and pulled your face away from you hands.

“it’s too late. i’ve managed on my own for 12 years i can do it for the rest of my life” you turned to him.

“everyone needs someone y/n, trust me. i didn’t know it until i met grace” he sincerely said.

“maybe. but i’m fine without you in my life.”

“you don’t mean that” tommy shook his head.

“i really do. i have my own flat, a job and food in my cupboards. i don’t need you. i will never forgive you. you abandoned me for years. you neglected me. i spent twelve years in the same institute. christmas’s and half terms included. i was stuck in a building with people who would hit, kick and spit on me whenever i did the slightest thing wrong. i spent my 18th birthday being brutally raped by 3 men on my way home from the fucking bakery. i had to nurse myself back to health whenever i was ill. you weren’t there. you don’t need to be here now.” you shouted.

“y/n i- i don’t even know what to say. i overheard you talking to pol and you never mentioned that that’s what happened” you shook your head.

“its not really dinner talk is it.”

“i swear i will hunt those men down and make them hurt” he had a determined look on his face.

“too late. it’s already happened. they’ve already told me that if i tell anyone they’ll come after me” you shrugged.

“they won’t touch you, i’ll protect you”

“for how long? two weeks before you decide i’m too much of a burden again” you shook your head.

“you remember that?” he asked

“what? you telling me that i’m a burden? you don’t just forget your parent telling you that. sticks with you”

“i am so sorry y/n”

“yeah well i’ll get over it. coming to this wedding was a fucking mistake.” you sighed

“why did you come?” he asked.

“i wanted to see my family one last time before i cut all communication. not that any of yous care”

“come with me y/n” he got up and gestured for me to follow.

“why?” you questioned

“just come with me” he started walking so you followed.

you came to a stop infront of a door. he opened it and gestured for you to come inside.

you entered and quickly realised this was his office. “why are we in here?”

he walked towards his desk and grabbed a picture that was stood on it and held it out to you. it was a picture taken on your graduation. you looked up at him confused

“i had your school send a copy to me. i always asked for updates on how you were doing at school. i have every school report in my draw. i always cared about you. i was just terrible at showing it. and i always thought it was too late to try and be your father so i avoided you. which was wrong. but seeing you today reminded me that i don’t want to have regrets in life. i don’t want to be an old man on my death bed and wondering where my own daughter is. i know i cant expect you to just accepted me as your father. but i would really like you to come over for dinner one day. and meet grace and charles properly?” he asked.

“i don’t know. i don’t feel like they would want me here” you shook your head. with tears still rolling down your face.

“trust me, they do. grace has wanted to meet you for years. she was the one who encouraged me to invite you to the wedding. she really wanted family here. and you are family y/n. i know you feel wronged by all of us, and i understand why. but i want to make it better. please, give me a chance” he pleaded.

“okay.”

#peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby angst #grace shelby #peaky blinders imagines #shelby imagine #peaky blinders #polly gray #john shelby #arthur shelby #alfie solomons #angst #peaky blinder fanfic #masterlist

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followsfrankiep · 1 month ago

Text

Haunted (Alfie Solomons)

Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction based on Peaky Blinders. All characters and settings belong to their respective creators. This work is purely for entertainment and not for profit.

TW: Curse words, Smut, Crimes, Age gap, violence, etc.

Chapter 1: The Bond of Survival

Isobel Russo, known to everyone as Izzy, had always been a fighter. Growing up in the tough streets of Brooklyn, she had no choice. Orphaned at a young age, she had never known the warmth of a family. Instead, she found solace in the company of Sophia, a blonde, kind-hearted girl who had also been left behind by the world.

The orphanage was a cold, unfeeling place, but it was where Izzy and Sophia formed an unbreakable bond. They were inseparable, two halves of a whole, navigating the harsh realities of their environment together. When they finally left the orphanage, they faced the streets of Brooklyn with a mix of fear and determination.

Izzy quickly learned to use her beauty and cunning to survive. She became adept at manipulating wealthy men, using their desires to earn money. It wasn’t a life she had chosen, but it was one she had mastered. Sophia, on the other hand, remained a gentle and supportive presence. She took care of their small apartment, making it a haven amidst the chaos of the city.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the streets, Izzy and Sophia sat in their cramped living room. The flickering light of a single lamp illuminated their faces. Izzy’s mind was always racing, always planning. She looked at Sophia, who was humming softly as she folded laundry.

“We need to find a way out of this, Soph,” Izzy said, her voice tinged with frustration. “I can’t keep doing this forever.”

Sophia looked up, her blue eyes filled with concern. “I know, Izzy. But what can we do? This is all we have.”

Izzy sighed, running a hand through her black hair. “There has to be something. Some opportunity we haven’t seen yet.”

Michael Gray had recently arrived in the U.S. to lead the Shelby Company. He was a man of power and influence, and Izzy had met him at a casino a few nights ago. She had overheard his conversation about financial troubles. It was then that she saw an opportunity.

The casino was a glittering palace of temptation, filled with the sounds of clinking glasses and the hum of conversation. Izzy moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her eyes scanning the room for potential targets. She spotted Michael at a corner table, his expression tense as he spoke into his phone.

Izzy’s keen ears picked up snippets of his conversation. “Tommy is going to fucking kill me. What the hell am I supposed to do? I fucking know it's a lot of money!”

Intrigued, Izzy made her way to the bar, positioning herself within earshot. She ordered a drink, her mind already working on how to approach him.

When Michael ended his call, she sauntered over, her smile disarming.

“Rough night?” she asked, her voice smooth as silk.

Michael looked up, surprised but intrigued. “You could say that.”

Izzy leaned in, her eyes locking onto his. “Maybe I can help. I overheard your conversation. Sounds like you need a fresh perspective.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “And what makes you think you can help?”

Izzy smiled, her confidence unwavering. “Let’s just say I have a knack for finding solutions to difficult problems.”

They spent the next few hours discussing Michael’s predicament. The Shelby Company was facing financial ruin due to a series of bad investments and internal strife. Michael had lost a significant amount of money in the Wall Street crash, and the company’s opium trade had been disrupted by rival gang.

“I have an idea,” Izzy said finally. “What if we create a front company to launder money through legitimate businesses? We can use the profits to stabilize the Shelby Company’s finances.”

Michael looked skeptical. “And how do you propose we do that?”

Izzy leaned in, her voice low. “We start small. Invest in local businesses – bars, clubs, restaurants. We use them to funnel money back into the company. It’s risky, but with the right people in place, it can work.”

Michael considered her words, his mind weighing the risks and rewards. “It’s a bold plan. But it might just work.”

Izzy smiled, her eyes gleaming with determination. “Then let’s make it happen.”

As they shook hands, sealing their partnership, Izzy felt a thrill of excitement. Her job was preying on wealthy men to manipulate them into giving her money. The money she earns by embezzling and fraud goes straight to Sophia. For Izzy, Shelby Company was the big fish she was waiting for a very long time and the time has come with her chance to change their lives for the better. And she wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Isobel did not come home that night. Instead, she spent the night at Michael's, setting the bait for her trap.

"Fuck, Isobel." Michael grunts. Her arms are holding unto his shoulders and her legs around his wait as he continues to pound unto her.

"That's it baby. Let it go." Isobel whispered on Michael's ear, softly nibbling them after.

A few more thrust, Michael pulls out and squirts all of his juices on Izzy's stomach. His sweaty body fell beside her with loud pants, giving her a quick kiss on her head. "That was bloody amazing, Isobel."

Izzy gave him a half smile, covered herself with a blanket, and turned to face the wall. When she started doing this, she felt a sense of guilt or shame. Now, she was numb, understanding that she’s doing what she needs to do to get by. Besides, she knew men are trash. They only cared if they get to cum, not always the other way around.

Over the next few weeks, Izzy’s plan worked wonders. Michael’s business started to stabilize, and he couldn’t help but feel grateful for her support. Little did he know, Izzy had also set up a secret account, siphoning off small amounts of money.

Months passed, and Michael’s dependence on Izzy grew. She became his go-to person for every decision, big or small. One evening, as they worked late in the office, Michael sighed heavily.

“Izzy, I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’ve saved this company and, honestly, my sanity.”

Izzy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’m here for you, Michael. We’ll get through anything together.”

As Michael’s trust in Izzy deepened, she took advantage of her position. She began to manipulate the company’s finances more boldly, ensuring that a steady stream of money flowed into her secret account. She was careful, though, always covering her tracks and making sure Michael never suspected a thing. She would always have him occupied with drinks and sex, and Michael has no complaints.

He then faced a critical decision about a major investment. He was torn and unsure of what to do. Izzy, sensing his vulnerability, seized the moment.

“Michael, I think you should go for it,” she said, her voice soothing and persuasive. She made her way to his back, giving his shoulders a slow and sensual massage, easing his tense shoulders. “This investment could be the breakthrough we need. And don’t worry, I’ll handle all the details.”

Michael nodded, feeling a wave of relief. “You’re right, Izzy. I trust your judgment completely.”

Izzy smiled inwardly, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted. "You're the brilliant one here, Michael." He loved it even more when she strokes his ego, making him feel like everything was still his ideas. Men.

Izzy smiled inwardly, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted. She skillfully manipulated the investment to her advantage, ensuring that a portion of the profits would be diverted to her secret account. She knew she was walking a dangerous line, but for now, everything was under control.

Michael and Izzy were huddled over the conference table, surrounded by stacks of financial reports and investment proposals. The company was finally seeing a turnaround, thanks to Izzy’s strategic insights. Michael couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and admiration for her.

As they wrapped up another long day, Michael leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “Izzy, I don’t know how you do it. You’ve been a lifesaver.” Placing a kiss on her neck, his hands rubbing her waist.

Izzy smiled, her eyes meeting his. “It’s all about teamwork, Michael. We’re in this together.”

Michael’s gaze softened. Their intimacy and time spent together had made him value her, not only as a business partner but something more. He was staring at her deep brown eyes, getting even more hypnotized by her beauty. “Isobel, you’ve become someone I really care about.”

She had anticipated this moment and knew exactly how to respond. She reached out, placing her hand over his. “I feel the same way, Michael. More than you know.”

Michael’s heart raced. He had been hesitant to mix business with personal feelings, but he couldn’t deny the connection between them. He placed a deep kiss on her lips, which she passionately returned. However, it was halted when Michael pulled away. This thought has been bothering him the whole day. He gave her a look, the tension palpable as he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. Izzy, sensing something was wrong, looked up to see his eyes.

“What’s going on, Michael?” she asked, concern in her voice.

“Tommy’s ordered me back to Birmingham. He wants me to handle some urgent business there,” Michael replied, his tone frustrated. He does not want to leave, or just the thought of leaving Isobel here in particular. His possessiveness was slowly creeping in, and the thought of having other men around his girl irked him. “I was hoping we could stay here and keep things running smoothly.” he said, but that reason was secondary.

Izzy’s heart sank. She thought about Sophia. They were inseparable since they met as an orphan, but if she wanted to give her the life she believe they should have, she has to think about the bigger picture. Birmingham was the last place she wanted to go, but she knew she couldn’t refuse. Michael needed her, and she had to maintain her facade. “Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, trying to sound supportive.

Michael nodded in relief. He was not sure whether Izzy wanted to tag along with him. He was not completely sure what he'd do, business wise, without her as well. “Yes, I need you there. You’ve been my rock through all of this. I can’t do it without you.”

Izzy forced a smile. “Alright, I’ll come with you.”

Before leaving for Birmingham, Izzy made a quick trip home to see, Sophia. She found the latter one preparing the dining table for dinner.

“Sophia, I need to talk to you,” Izzy said gently, sitting down beside her. “Michael has been summoned back to his home. I have to go to Birmingham for a while. He needs me there.”

Sophia looked up, her eyes filled with worry. “How long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Izzy reassured her. “In the meantime, I’ll keep sending you money. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

Sophia nodded, her expression softening. “Thank you, Izzy. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Izzy hugged her best friend tightly. “We’ll get through this, Sophia. Just a little bit more. I promise.” Mentally preparing herself to catch the big fish.

Next chapter

#fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #alfie solomons #michael gray #smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x oc #drama #angst #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfic #tom hardy

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cosmic-crybaby · 1 year ago

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Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 18: 'Like Real People Do'

Warnings: Mentions of blood, childbirth, last chapter

Masterlist:

---

Months had passed since your relationship with Thomas Shelby had come to an end.

You had someone by your side with every step of the way. Now just a few weeks away from your predicted due date, Ada, Polly, and Esme were there to help you when you needed them. Even Alfie and John had stopped by a few times when you needed them to. But the Shelby women were there through it all. Esme had made an effort to be with you almost every day, even while she was expecting her first child herself.

Esme also kept Thomas' name to a minimum when it came to conversations with you, although she had wished she could gossip about the recent things he had done. Your mind had drifted back to him from time to time, wondering what he had gotten himself into now or how he was doing in that big mansion all alone. You stayed strong and refrained from reaching out to him for your own sanity.

Esme wore she would never give Tommy any kind of update on how you were doing, but Polly and Ada gave him some peace of mind after answering his burning and persistent questions.

“She’s doing just fine,”

“Her and the baby are healthy,”

“Yes, she’s still working,”

But that was the extent of it all.

Tommy really had no idea how you were really doing, and even though you wanted to keep it that way, he still refrained from stopping by your bakery, or sending a peaky boy or two to keep watch on you and the kids. An extra measure to make sure you were safe. He knew you were smart, and would have spotted them right away, but again part of him wished that was the case so you could talk to him again.

But it was better this way, it kept him up at night, thinking you were all alone now. He stayed awake at night with the regret of ever hurting you and jeopardizing your relationship. The one night with Lizzie Stark caused his heart to shatter every night he went without you in his arms.

You, on the other hand, continued to care for your two children and work on your own for the most part, even if you slowed down the further you grew into your pregnancy. You eventually gave into Esme’s request to help you out when the days got busy or when you simply needed to rest.

Tonight was Henry’s first orchestra concert. You were adamant on attending, no matter what. You sat in the front row with Elizabeth in the middle between you and her Aunt Esme. Watching him on stage along with the other kids of all ages. You gushed to Esme about how cute he looked in his suit, but went silent as they began to play. Listening to the beautiful symphony of classical music. You proudly gazed up at him on the stage as he focused on the sheet music and the movements of the bow on the strings. It was times like this where you were thankful that Thomas paid for violin lessons so he could perfect his skills on time for the show. Your smile dropped as you felt a sharp cramp to your side, inhaling quickly. Your hand quickly flew to your stomach for a moment until the pain quickly subsided. You managed to sit through the concert in uncomfortable silence, not wanting to miss a second of Henry’s performance. You shift in your seat as you take slow and deep breaths while rubbing your side to calm down.

Once the curtains close and everyone applauds, you turn to Elizabeth.

“Why don't you meet your brother backstage when he’s done?” You asked her.

“Okay mum,” She nods, watching her stand from her seat and skip off to the side of the stage. Esme looked over at you, worried.

“What’s wrong, love?” She asked, moving to sit in Elizabeth's empty seat. You groan a bit, attempting to stand up but sit back down with a shocked gasp. You feel around your dress, as the clear liquid spilled down to your knees and into the floor.

"I-I think my water just broke,"

You knew your due date was nearing quickly but you didn’t think the baby would come this early. Esme rushes to help you stand, grabbing your arm as you hissed at the aching pain in your back.

“Come on love, not much time now,” She guides you to stand up. Just as you pass the stage, Elizabeth and Henry walk out. Henry held his violin case as he looked at you. You halt your steps.

"Oh, you did amazing sweetheart," You smiled at him as he gave you a tight hug.

"Thanks mum," As he let you go, you reached out for their hands. You glanced at Esme as she nods once to make a call to John.

"Okay, listen..." You paused, taking a deep breath. "We will drop you off at Aunt Adas and then we will come pick you up in the morning when-"

"Rather than staying with their own father?" A strong voice said from behind.

"Dad!" The two shouted happily as they ran to him and hugged him tightly.

"Alfie?" You stood up straight with a groan. After he greeted the kids he approached you.

“No way in hell you’re gonna let my kids be watched over by a Shelby,”

"Alfie I-”

" Right, I will be taking them for the night, I insist…" He dismissively told you.

"You really never miss their performances," You told him quietly with a small smile.

"Of course not, I fuckin' love my family," Even past his burley exterior, you could still see the love in his eyes.

"Mum?" Elizabeth looked up at you. You glance down at her.

"Right! We'll get you in the morning when the baby gets here. okay?"

Their eyes brightened up.

"Okay mum," They said. You slightly bend down to pull them into hug them and give them quick kisses on their cheeks.

"Stay safe, mum" Henry whispered in your ear. You nodded.

"I love you, I will see you in the morning," You handed your children off to their father. Just then Esme had returned, rushing to your side.

"Thank you, Alfie," You smiled at him, wanting to just reach to hold his hand, but Esme grabbed your hand first after seeing the sweat beading on your forehead.

"(Y/n)," She whispered.

"I wish you well (Y/n), may God protect you, Love...stay safe,"

That was the first time you had seen him show real concern for you in a very long time.

"Love, the car's here we've got to go," Esme rushed.

In the car, Esme sat in the backseat with you, helping you breathe through the sudden increase of pain as John drove like a madman back to your flat. As planned, you had arrived home and John helped you out of the car and into your bedroom. Esme was quick to call Polly and had her rushed over, since she was the only person you had trusted to help you deliver the baby and she lived only a few streets away. As you sat on the bed, hunched over and panting, John rubbed your back. Even though he had seen this many times before and witnessed the birth of his many kids and siblings, he still felt anxious for you as his hands shook.

"(Y/n) Polly is on her way but we need to get you ready," Esme hurried into the room, holding clean sheets and a large, thin night dress. She had ushered John out of the room, sending him to gather blankets, towels, and water. She helped you undress and put on your nightgown as you finally were able to catch your breath for just a minute before the cramping started up again, this time a loud cry erupting from your throat as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

"Fucking Christ!" You shouted.

"You're doing great love just keep breathing," Esme calmed you, trying to keep your breathing regulated. She moved your hair out of your face as it stuck to your face the more you began to sweat.

"Esme, it hurts! I can't do this!" You cried.

"Yes you can! Just hold on, Polly's almost here," She comforted you. You whine as John entered the room, bringing the things Esme ordered.

"She's here,"

It was like everything was a huge blur, you had no idea what was going on until Polly greeted you. Hasty, and trying to stay calm as she ordered John to get more water.

"(Y/n), you've got a fever, you need to stay awake so we can get the baby out, okay?" She spoke clearly. You tiredly nodded. She helped you onto the bed, sitting up as she rubbed your back gently. In the midst of your next contraction you held Esme's hand tightly as Polly checked your dilatation.

"You'll need to start pushing soon okay?" Polly asked, standing up to wash her hands and grab the pile of linens and towels.

"N-No, I can't, it hurts," You cried, your words coming out like slurs and your eyelids getting heavier.

"Shit, John! Where is the fuckin' water?!" Polly shouted. The room began to spin as everyone in the room began shouting and yelling at each other. You couldn't comprehend what was happening. Not until you heard him call your name.

"He just turned up, I couldn't tell him to leave, Aunt Pol he has every right to be here!" John argued.

"I don't give a shit, he's hurt her in more ways than one and right now she needs help not a fucking reminder of the man who put her in this situation!" She argued.

"She doesn't even want to hear your name, what makes you think she wants you here?!" Esme spit.

"(Y/n)," He called. "I need to see her, please," He begged as he tried to push past Polly. She glared at him, refusing to let him through.

"Only if she agrees," She noted.

"She's delusional, she can barely speak!" Esme shouted.

"Tommy?" You mumbled. A whimper left your throat as you looked towards the door. A moment of silence filled the room as he was let in, much to Polly and Esme's dismay. Thomas stood by you and held your hand as you looked at him with a dazed look in your eyes. Your face was pale, your pupils wide, as the sweat drips down your temples and neck.

"Hi love...I'm here now, I'm here for you," He nodded.

"Polly-" You quickly turned away from Thomas as you called for his aunt. She walked to the bed once again, lifting the sheet to check your dilatation. With a focused face she ordered Esme to help.

"Give her water, try to keep her cool because this baby is coming now," She hurried. Drinking the water quickly and shutting your eyes as you felt the need to push.

"You're doing great, (Y/n) just keep breathing," Esme encouraged you as she dabbed your forehead with a damp towel. You nod once as you try to focus on your breathing. The impending pain made you open your eyes as you frantically reached for Esme's hand. Esme held you close, looking up at Thomas to step up and do the same. He was almost frozen in his place as he stared at her.

"Tommy," You called for him again, holding your hand out as he tightly squeezed. You cried out in pain

"It'll be okay, keep going," He looked at you with wide eyes.

"Fuck!" You cursed loudly as you threw your head back.

"Almost there (y/n) almost there! One more!" Polly affirmed. It seemed like everything had gone by within the blink of an eye. One last push and one last cry from you and it was all over. The pain became numb as your legs trembled. The warmth of the blood drenched your sheets as Polly gasps in relief. Far too exhausted to lift yourself up to get a proper look at the little bundle as Polly cleaned them up. Your vision begins to double as you sink back into the pillows. The muffled sound of Esme and Tommy calling your name was almost deafened when you heard the coos and crying of the baby. You felt your eyes get heavier and heavier as the sweat and heat began to get too much for you. And with that, you were out. The room was worried for you. Trying to wake you up but the fever, the pain, and the blood loss had all hit you at once.

That summer, Elizabeth and Henry were sitting on an old blanket on the grassy hills under the trees. The very same spot Thomas had taken them, chasing the ducks and flying paper airplanes over a year ago. The sun was warm and bright as the birds sang and the children laughed. A basket full of food and sweets sat beside them, Henry was restraining himself from sneaking a taste of the apple dumplings. You had approached behind them, the small baby in your arms as you set the small bag of necessities for the baby on the grass before you sat down.

"Can we take Evelyn to look at the ducks, mum?" Elizabeth asked, the baby cooed and giggled as she grasped onto your fingers.

"Yeah, let's go before Aunt Esme arrives," You nod as you stand up, and approach the small pond. She was still small, but her chubby hands grasped at the water, giggling as the little gold fish scattered whenever she wiggled her fingers. You chuckled as Elizabeth and Henry fed bread to the ducks, screaming and laughing as the ducks quacked and chased them around if they held the bread for too long.

"(Y/n)!" Esme had called. You stood up, looking at the top of the hill, holding your hand over your brow to shade your eyes from the sun. She waved happily, the baby in her arms bundled close to her chest. John's kids greeted Henry and Elizabeth before they gathered to run about the hill. The two of you sat on the blanket, watching the kids kick a ball around, their laughs were carried with the wind. Behind you, in the car, John stood. Smoking a cigarette.

"You alright, brother?" John turned to his older brother. Thomas leaned against the car. You didn't know he was there, and he didn't want to be known. He held the cigarette in his mouth as his hands were shoved in his pockets. He heavily sighs.

"Yeah..." He mumbled. He hoped to get a glimpse of your new life. You looked happy, laughing with Esme as you held the baby by the hands as she took wobbly steps. The small glance he got at her, in her bright blue eyes. She looked just like a perfect combination of the both of you. It ached him that he had to keep his distance when all he wanted was to be next to you, holding the babe in his arms just as you were now.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" John asked. He didn't completely understand why Thomas couldn't just man up and talk to you again. But it was more complicated than that.

"I can't John,"

"Why not? Tom, you were meant to be, just give it a try,"

The days after Evelyn was born, Thomas tried to reignite that spark in you. And as much as it saddened you, you declined. Your heart wanted you to go back to him, but every other part of you didn’t want to get hurt again. It just wasn't going to work. The amount of times he had hurt you was just too much to overlook the times he cherished you.

"Perhaps meant to be just wasn't for us, John..."

You picked Evelyn up, lifting her up in your arms before bringing her down to give her a kiss. She squeals as you do it again and again.

"That's bullshit," John muttered, flicking the end of his burnt out cigarette onto the gravel road. Thomas only took his hand out of his pocket to do the same. Shaking his head, swallowing thickly as he felt the lump in his throat grow the more he watched you.

And you smiled, maybe not at him, but after all this time you still smiled, so he smiled too. He quickly looks down, licking his lips before pushing himself off of the car.

"Let's go," He mumbled as he got into the driver's side. He gave you one last glance. Evelyn looked at you before turning her head to Thomas. Locking eyes with him. It was like he lost his breath at just how beautiful she was. Making him think, just how could someone as cold and deadly as himself make something so warm and beautiful.

"What are you looking at, love?" You asked Evelyn, she looked at you then back to the road. Pointing a chubby finger in that direction. Confusion washed over your face as you looked over your shoulder. You both stared at each other, doing and saying nothing until you lifted your hand to give him a small wave, as a comforting smile formed on your face. Thomas returned the gesture before driving off. Your eyes followed the car until you couldn't see it anymore.

"You still love him, don't you?" Esme calmly asked. You looked down, swallowing a bit before silently nodding.

"That's okay...You made the right choice," She scooted closer to you, putting a comforting hand over yours. You nod again, your breath shuttering as you look up. The golden sun casting a glow on your skin as you wiped your tears.

"We were always made for each other, just never made to last,"

---

This was the final chapter of 'Blue Skies' I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have another Tommy Shelby story in the works that will be posted soon! In the mean time if you would like a bonus chapter with Tommy x (yn) or Alfie x (yn), feel free to let me know.

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call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

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I’m listening to Ultraviolence by Lana Del Ray and I can’t shake the feeling of a fic with Arthur based off this song. I feel like it fits him so well! I can just imagine a toxic relationship between him and the reader where he hits her or harms her in some way (intentional or not) but she keeps going back to him

“He hit me and it felt like a kiss..”

Plssss lmao the way this works so well

No need to do anything with it, just wanted to share because I know you’re a slut for Arthur like I am

“Because I know you’re a slut for Arthur” SIS YOU’RE SO RIIIIIGHT. HE’S MY SOFT KITTEN. 😩

Ultraviolence || Dark!Arthur Shelby x Reader

TW: angst ++, abusive husband, toxic relationship, depiction of domestic violence, alcoholism, if you think this trope have a good ending you should not read it, no proof reading: this is raw, unedited and prolly super badly written??

Words: 1k

Each inch gained by the clock’s needle, your heart raced more as if it feared to be pierced by its the sharp steel. Nibbling on your fingers’ skin compulsively, you sat on the large luggage you prepared one hour ago because you knew that when Arthur came home after midnight, he was not the man you fell in love with anymore. His gruff voice, usually lavishing you with the sweetest pet names he could find, would call you deadly nightshade — because when you looked at him with fear and fury in your oh-so- beautiful but teary eyes, it felt like a caustic poison was running through his veins, burning him from within and dissolving his sanity.

The door opened, your soul wept.

“Oi Y/N, where the fook are ye?” The gravel in his tone, who used to make you shiver with desire, sent shivers of fright down your spine. You took a deep breath, struggling to keep composure: this night would be the last you suffered from his violent love. After months of hesitating, coming back to him almost crawling, you decided that this nightmare had to stop. Somehow, you knew you had to flee from his claws before you ended up dead and cold — either by suicide or by his hands.

He stumbled in the living room, an empty bottom of whisky hanging from his hand. His steel blue eyes, half closed due to the amount of alcool he drank and cocaine he snorted, were looking for you, “Bloody hell Y/N, a good wife always welcome her husband when he comes back home. So be a good fookin’ woman and come greet your ol’ Arthur with the warmth he fucking deserve.” He grunted, before his frightening gaze fell on you.

He looked at you, and you could hear the sirens howling in the back of your head.

“What the hell?” He whispered at the sight of your packed stuff, slowly understanding your intentions, “Are you fucking serious?”

“I can’t do this anymore Arthur,” words left your mouth, falling from your quivering lips, “This is going to kill me… I’m sorry.”

“You wanna leave me?” He asked, bewildered. The sound of the bottle shattering on the wooden floor echoed in the living room, answering to the screams of his own heart breaking. You hated yourself at the idea of hurting him but you could not do it anymore, loving him was really hard. At first your thought it would be enough to save him, to heal his soul and mind, but love was not enough— your love was never enough.

“I’m sorry.” You got up and grabbed your luggage, before making your way to the door. Yet, Arthur firmly grabbed your wrist as you passed by, his grip so sharp it bruised your skin almost instantly.

“You’re not going anywhere, love.”

“Let me go. Please Arthur, if you love me you have to let me go.”

“I said you’re not. Going. Any-fookin-where.” He retorted, his hoarse voice growling with more hatred as anger boiled within him.

“Let me go you fucking bastard!” You bursted out, panic overwhelming your aching soul as you felt his nails digging into your skin.

The horrific sound of the blow that followed made the skies shook with sorrow. Pain stung your cheek, its burning sensation spreading on all the left side of your face. You let out a woeful whimper, tears flowing from your eyes almost instantly. He hit you, and it felt like a kiss, because it was his way of loving you when he was drunk.

“YOU AIN’T LEAVING ME, YOU POISON. I’M ARTHUR FUCKING SHELBY RIGHT?” He barked.

His hand grabbed you a second time — but it was not to make you dance anymore, like he used to do when you were kids.

Pain rain down on you,

With his ultraviolence

Ultraviolence.

“I’m … Im so sorry…” Arthur kept saying over and over again, his hands on both side of his head as he pulled his own hair, devastated with the view of crimson stains on your face.

Panicking, he then grabbed your chin and almost suffocated you with his lips, assaulting your bleeding mouth with desperate kisses, “I’m so sorry Y/N, it won’t happen again. I just don’t know what crossed my mind, it wasn’t me… it was the fucking whisky! The bloody snow! I won’t do it again, I swear doll I will never hurt you anymore… I— I love you… God I love you so much I’ll die without you.”

His blue eyes overflowed with tears of gold, like lemonade.

“Arthur… I —“ Words choked in your throat as you saw him cry. The monster had left, leaving him sobbing like a beaten child. He raised your gaze toward yours when you called him, and you knew he was your gentle Arthur again.

But you could not forgive him again and again.

Could you?

He would be the death of you.

“Please, I’ll do anything for you. Please, Y/N.”

The cacophony of your mind almost made you wince, for your thoughts crashed against your skull in a messy bacchanalia. Run away, you had to run away… so why did your body remained petrified? Why did you gently stroke his hair, looking at him, desperately in love?

It was stronger than you, stronger than reason, you hated to see him cry. You despised the way he was hating himself, genuinely guilty.

But you had to go.

To go.

But you stayed.

Don’t beg, stop telling me you love me. Please.

Please I can’t. It’s never enough.

Give me all of that ultraviolence.

“I love you too, Arthur. I love you forever.” Your voice was merely a whisper as warm blood ran from your nostrils, tainting your lips and dying on your chin. Your fingers gently grazed his neck as you knew he loved — all you wanted was to stop his pain. To see him smile with that stupid, irresistible grin that made you fall for him.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N.” His lips laid a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth, the tip of his tongue tasting the blood. His voice was filled with sincere love, “I’ll change. I swear to God I’ll change for you,” Somehow he really believed in what he said, but the truth was he would never change… And you knew it.

“You won’t lose me — maybe you could — help me putting my stuff back where they belong?” You stuttered, your whole body about to collapse in his arms for it just wanted to feel his touch.

“Of course I’ll do.”

Arthur smiled.

You did too.

But Angels cried,

for they knew that he hurt you and it felt like true love.

Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me honey, know that you can make yourself at home in my ask box, especially when it’s about babyboy Arthur.

I love this Lana’s song so much, and I completely understand the vibes you felt. It would suit so well in a Dark!Arthur fic — in fact I loved it so much I could not help but write a little something for ya! Even though I do feel in-character Arthur would be far too terrified to hurt Reader and would not physically harm . Maybe being rougher, bruising her with his grip without doing it on purpose. But he would not hit her (cf: office scene with Linda in S5). Yet — I decided to go dark with this one because, as you said, “he hit me and it felt like a kiss” is just perfect for this sad trope.

#arthur shelby #arthur Shelby x reader #Peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder #Peaky blinders x reader #Peaky blinder x reader #Tommy Shelby #John Shelby #Michael gray #Alfie Solomon’s #Arthur Shelby angst #peaky blinder imagine #Peaky blinder angst #request

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everythingelseisextra · 1 year ago

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Love Song (Tommy's POV)

Part Nineteen: No Harm

Part Eighteen out of Twenty-One (Or Twenty-Two, haven't decided yet) Author's Note: Sorry for how short this is, and sorry for not responding to any of your guy's comments on the last part. I did read them, but I've been pretty overwhelmed with work recently and it just felt like Too Much. Description: Tommy formulates a plan. Warnings: language, references to trafficking, and poetic rambling Word Count: 1559 (again, I'm so sorry.) Tag List: @theshelbyslimited @ttaechi @weaponizedvirtue @majesticcmey @optimisticsandwichgladiator @zablife @princesssterek @mm0thie @callsignvenus @ay0nha @mgdixon @fairytale07 @dreamy-caramel @ce1iat @algae-tm @dragonsondragons @trentknd @nothingofsimplicity @babayaga67 @shelbydelrey @globetrotter28 @look-at-the-soul @notalxx @chaengist @cookiez56-blog @skxawngs @h0neylemon

I thought nothing would bring me to my knees like that night. A sapphire on bloodied, pale skin. A gunshot ringing in my ears. Bones cracking beneath my brother’s hands. Glass shattering on the man with the gun. Her weight going dead in my arms. I turn women into martyrs. Does that say more about me or of them? Do we care too deeply for each other, or do we care too little about ourselves that a sacrifice comes easy?

Once Arthur pulls the bullet from the muscle in my shoulder and once the blood is stemmed, I stand, stagger forward, and almost fall. He catches me with an arm around my back and mutters like a madman, words thick and full of anger. “Where did they take her, brother? Where did they take her?”

He shakes me to break me out of the stupor I swim in. My gaze stays rapt on the door where I last saw her, where a group of hardened men walked her out. She went willingly and I sat and watched. I did nothing to protect her.

“I don’t know, Arthur,” I say quietly. “I don’t know where.”

He shakes me roughly again. “You giving up? You letting that woman get taken by the kind of men who think little girls are all grown up and ready for them? She’s not fucking dead, Tom, use that head of yours and go get her out of there.”

There’s one person in this damned city who could tell me where to hunt. One person with the knowledge of quiet transportation, stealing someone from their fate, bringing them home or into hell. Whether he’ll give me the gift of his advice and help me take her back; that’s a gamble. That’s the game I have to play, and I know for a fact that he will play it, too, toy with me the way I toy with others. Smart as I am, that man. Smarter, even.

I nod slowly and Arthur releases me. I pull a cigarette from its box in my pocket and light it, an excuse to take a deep, smoke-filled breath. An expectation lingers in Arthur’s watchful eyes.

I turn to look at him, faint mirth twitching my lips. “You’re not going to like this.”

—

“Good morning, Mr. Solomons.” Seven hours since they took her. Seven hours since she was walked out of Arrow House and placed in a car and driven off somewhere where hell and earth merge. And I am wasting time with pleasantries, because Alfie has a propensity towards what he refers to as ‘tittle-tattle.’

“Yeah, it is.” He meanders from the window over to my desk, placing a hand on it, leaning his weight on the wood despite the cane in his other hand. “You’re lucky I was passing, weren’t you, because you still seem to believe that you are some god from some religion that has the power to summon up Jews of a particular standing.”

I nod vaguely, wait for him to continue, picking bits of information from his phrasing. Confusing man, he is, with a habit of mixing metaphors and twisting his own words. He takes patience, like a stallion who’s learned he’s bigger than the rest.

“I’ve heard that you took in a girl, didn’t ya, who’s opened her legs to just about every man I’ve met from France! Now, that’s something, now isn’t it? You, a man of some standing, and a girl who used to go from place to place with a collar around her throat and someone begging her to use one of her holes. Now, I don’t know which one she used for you, but word is, she’s got you wound tight. You do know how many of them there are, don’t you? I could get you a man, I could, who would bring you any girl you like. White slaves, and all, you know the like.” He sits down on the chair beside me. Light shines in from the window across from us and plays in his bright eyes, serving to make them almost transparent. “Best thing to do, mate, is to forget about her and stop asking those questions and killing those men, right? You’ve been fucking around with the slavers, now haven’t you, you silly boy?”

I raise my eyebrows and stand, walking over to the windows to stare out at the grounds. “You’ve been keeping tabs.”

“Yeah, well, I was curious, now wasn’t I?” His mouth twitches, not into a smile, but sideways, thoughtful.

The sentiment hovers between us. That I had stepped lower than my standing to be with a woman who hadn’t a clue about the life I live. He doesn’t realize who she is and how easily her world merges into mine. Basic understanding stays preserved through the horrors we both have witnessed. And now, for the first time, she needs me, instead of the other way around. She can’t protect herself against something as big as the organization she’s been taken by.

“Then you should know, Alfie, that she can survive it.” I keep my back to him, one hand on the sill, the other in my pocket.

“Just like you did when you came back from France and like your fucking family did when they put the nooses around their necks. Eh? Just like that, right?”

“Just like that, yes.” I turn to face him, walking forward to put both hands on my desk, looking down at him. “She will survive, and we will bring her home.”

“Yeah, about that, there’s someth—”

“You will be properly compensated once the job is done, Alfie.” I look down at the desk, working my jaw. Reaching down, I slide a piece of paper towards him. “You’ll find the sum appropriate.”

He pulls his spectacles out of his suit jacket, his hand trembling slightly, and peers down through them at the paper. He looks back up at me, eyes bright. “I do, yeah, I do. Suppose you want a miracle worked, do you?”

“Something like that.” I step back, drawing myself up and taking a deep breath, eyes still on the paper.

I pay for her life, for her freedom, in the same way men pay for her body and their own pleasure. It brings a boiling sensation to my stomach and my jaw tightens slightly.

“If you asked, I wouldn’t fuckin bring you a woman.” Alfie shakes his head. “Not from them, anyway.”

“I know.” I move around the desk and sit down next to him again. “While I waited for you to arrive, I formulated a plan.”

—

I don’t believe in God.

I once talked to Him while I stood in my grave. I asked Him to give me a reason and He never could. He looked down on the End and he saw that it was Bad. He turned his back on me, and I turned mine on him. An eye for an eye, like the bible says.

I believe in poets and I believe in lovers. I believe in soldiers and I believe in hatred. I believe in the innocent and the guilty and the men and women and in-between who fought for the right to their lives. I believe in Her.

I know we are not soulmates because I can’t feel what She feels, not at all. We will love each other on purpose when this is all over. We will choose to fight for each other like we do now. We will stop sacrificing for the other and start building.

I don’t believe in God.

This life, this brief glimpse of heaven on Earth, this is all we fucking get. Not what we expected but what we have, and for Her, I would waste this one life on fighting. I would go back into that tunnel, that birth canal, and I would defuse and defuse and defuse and light and light and light until there were bombs under the men who keep Her and a pathway for Her to crawl through, back through my grave, my mother’s womb, and out into the world.

I have always had a hatred for Cain. Am I my brother’s keeper? Yes. We are our family’s keeper. It is being human that bonds us together, and to kill kin is to kill yourself. I have tried to do both, accidentally, on purpose, the line blurs. I understand him, though, in a way. If I was not in God’s good graces, I would want to wander. I would want to roam. His punishment was wanderlust and still, there is more to see. Always more, more, more. No place to go but everywhere.

I don’t believe in God. But I believe in Her.

A defiant act of creation, both haunted and holy, chaotic mess of joy and fear and memories pounding between temples. She is the reason I get up in the morning, and She is the reason I can sleep at night. Like every beautiful thing, She is poisonous, and I know those who bite into Her flesh will feel Her wrath.

There is an intimacy beyond sex or love to self-destruction, and I promise to Her that I will not give to it. I will give to Her and only Her. She saw the worst of me and hardly flinched.

I don’t believe in God.

#only the wild ones #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby imagine #poetry #alfie solomons

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dreamlandcreations · 1 year ago

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Assistant to the Villain got me by the cover title...

fortunately I read/watched a review or two and figured this book is not for me (since apparently the "plot" has very little to do with the title 😒) BUT I did like the idea, so I'm writing it...

The question is:

#a little bit of angst #a lot of pining #and then they were roommates #chaos and mischief #a sprinkle of Nimona vibes #villain x sidekick #poll #my polls #darkling x reader #billy russo x reader #alfie solomons x reader #wip stuff

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traumadumpwriter · 8 months ago

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Heavy trigger warning: Blood, violence, gore. Mentions of self harm, sexual assault and rape.

Check out the other chapters by going on the Freedom tag on my page!

Sorry for the slow updates. I'm much more regular on my Wattpad and already have a lot more chapters uploaded there. The @ is slowlychanging.

Don't forget to like and comment if you're enjoying! It really does mean a lot. Stay safe xx

Freedom: A John Shelby fanfiction

Chapter Eleven: 2900 words

Knuckles white as he gripped the wheel, John raced to the shop without even thinking to pick up Ada - only able to focus on the rage. Red hot, blistering rage, fuelled by the haunting image of Alice's crumpled body. It taunted him like a ghostly apparition whilst the smokey, serpentine roads felt like they stretched on forever.

By time he got out of the car, slamming on the breaks in the middle of the street, his anger had reached new heights. Luckily, it wasn't particularly busy at the shop; just the usual workers sat around, and so there was no halt when John stormed into Tommy's office, immediately met by alert blue eyes.

"You're a fucking prick, you know that?" John's voice was instantly raised as he paced to his older brother, who didn't as much as flinch upon recognising the intruder. Tommy had already received a bollocking from Pol that morning and wasn't at all surprised to see John's furrowed brows and closed fists. Still though, he couldn't help but be annoyed by the disturbance - he was busy dealing with the other results of last night after all - so his mouth remained straight and his gaze unsympathetic.

"She's in hospital right now because of you! Do you even care?" John slammed a hand down onto the desk with a shout, desperate for even a crack in his brothers face. "Huh Tommy? Do you even give a fuck?"

"Yes John, I give a fuck. And that's why everything worked out, didn't it?" The patriarch responded flatly before lighting a cigarette.

"No it didn't all fucking work out! Did you not fucking hear me? What about her being hurt is bloody alright to you? Alice could've died last night." John growled in response, almost spitting in his fury.

This newfound opposition from one of his most loyal soldiers was starting to get under Tommy's skin.

"Well she can't be doing that bad if you're fucking here, can she John? Huh?" His eyes started to widen with irritated energy and his voice got gradually louder. "Because she ain't even your wife and you've gone soft for her! Where's your balls John, she fucking agreed to it and if there's an issue she can come speak to me. Are you a fucking carrier pigeon now?"

John gritted his teeth.

"No, I'm not fucking not. I'll tell you what you are though. You're a fucking cunt. An egotistical fucking cunt. And-"

"Well at least I've not gone soft for a nut job, John. Because that's what she is, a fucking nut job! And you plan on marrying her! You're even thicker than I thought-"

That was it. John leapt across the desk and punched Tommy's face, quickly earning an equal punch back as they started to brawl. The noise instantly caught the attention of everyone in the shop and Pol soon burst in with a drunken Arthur - only just awoken and still stumbling.

Her shouts were being ignored as the brothers hissed at each other in between their attacks, knocking over furniture and sending each other flying.

"You're just fucking bitter that your woman ain't ever coming back, but mine did. You're still fucked off over some clapped cavalry cunt!" John declared before shoving Tommy backwards with a scoff. He went to punch him again but his brother had suddenly floored him.

"Cus' she's such a woman ain't she John? Still acting like a bloody animal whenever there's any opportunity to do so!" Tommy had a grip on John's leg, dragging him with gritted teeth until he was also pulled to the ground.

John used this opportunity to jump up and start kicking his brother, although he quickly clambered up too and threw a heavy punch to his face. Blood spat from John's mouth before he threw a heavier punch back.

"You've got no one." He growled before gripping Tommy's shoulders and slamming him against the bookshelf, classics falling down with the intense shake. John's fingers moved to squeeze Tommy's throat.

"Well last time I checked this so called woman ain't even yours, she's still Mrs Buckley." The elder mocked with wide eyes and a venomously sharp tone. He knew his brother wouldn't kill him.

Although if John was seeing red before, it was now a faded shade in comparison to the colour he saw then. The words made him feel sick. Mrs Buckley. It gave his whole body an intense wave of revulsion as he threw his brother down to the ground and then kneeled over him, quickly starting to pummel his face as Tommy landed punches to his gut.

"Don't you ever fucking say that!" A guttural shout much louder than the others erupted from his mouth followed by a flurry of hits that halted Tommy's arms entirely and finally drew over Arthur.

John didn't stop hitting until he was suddenly grabbed by the eldest, which was a mistake on his part because he swiftly received a punch to the face that also sent him to the ground whilst Tommy was clambering up.

Just as John was about to go for his brother again, Pol's voice finally broke through the violent haze and he turned to her for the first time since she entered, paying attention.

"Alright John, you've floored them both. That's enough." Despite the demanding tone, it was a familiarity he found comfort in and the red began to fade. Unbeknownst to him, she shot Tommy a sharp glare just as he was about to open his mouth and make another taunt.

"What's she in bloody hospital for? I thought you said she was alright last night?" Her words grounded him back into the current reality and his breathing started to even out; followed by a glance down at his fists which he realised were splattered with blood.

It took him a moment to collect his thoughts, looking around the room and seeing Arthur still on the floor. He made a step towards him, an instinctual desire to help his brother but quickly stopped himself as soon as he remembered Pol's question.

"Her ribs.. and the cuts." He answered numbly, staring back down at his hands. "I should get Ada-"

"Leave Ada out of it and go back there yourself. God knows she's got enough on her plate without your bloody mess." Tommy finally spoke, earning a side eye from John who's tone immediately soured again.

"You sold Alice out to get fucking ravaged by those sadistic pricks!" His shout brought a heavy silence to the room, even Arthur's groans stopping. "And you told her she'd be fine."

Everyone in the room felt a guilty pang in their guts at those words, John's pain so palpable it was no longer something even a brother could mock. Tommy didn't know what to say in response, there was no justification that wouldn't just further anger John. And so he pursed his lips and said nothing, resuming his previous cold face.

It wouldn't have to last much longer anyway as John was heading towards the door, spitting on the ground before scoffing "You're lucky, you'd be fucking dead if I'd found her a minute later" and promptly exiting, his miserable pace out considerably slower than his determined march in.

Everyone waited to hear the front door slam before moving, Pol marching across the room and landing a firm slap on Tommy's bloody cheek as Arthur hoisted himself up with a grunt.

"You happy with yourself?" She tutted and then turned to Arthur "Both of you need to sort your bloody acts out."

~~~~~

Knowing the Shelby's reputation very well, the nurses attempted to give Alice the best care they could. It was just a few stitches and some ribs that needed to be set - the care didn't need to be amazing. But her vacant expression, hollow voice and visibly self inflicted scars made them mostly quite uncomfortable, leaving just one nurse in charge.

"If she were a woman off the streets she would surely be moved to facility more suited to her needs; a nuthouse of sorts. But because she's with that awful gang, that's not allowed. She's my responsibility instead." The nurse thought bitterly.

She stayed sat a few feet away from the bed, keeping her watch on the tangled hair and tired eyes; doing anything to avoid her tattered arms. The nurse didn't know why it made her so uncomfortable but it did. There was something so unnatural about it, so unnerving. And so instead of continuing her awkward attempt at conversation with the sunken down woman, she handed her a small bottle, the glass thick and brown.

Alice shot a confused look to the nurse, knowing the contents of said bottle were quite unnecessary for her current predicament.

"I don't need this." She spoke lowly, earning a hidden eye roll from the nurse before she replied "It's for the pain."

"Yeah I know, I'm not hurting too bad-"

"I meant up here." The nurse pointed to her own head. "Shuts my thoughts right up."

Despite the passive aggressive nature of the nurse's offer, something that Alice would usually call out, she was too tired to voice a response. And she actually quite liked the idea of her thoughts shutting up. Morphine wasn't too dissimilar to the opium that Jones had fed her - something to make her stop fighting back - and although that specific idea made her feel sick, the sweet numbness seemed heavenly.

The syrup was soon dripping down her throat before the bottle made its way into her pocket, something the nurse couldn't even be bothered to argue with. "She clearly needs it." She mentally justified to herself.

It didn't take long after that for the effects to kick in, Alice's body melting into the bed and her brain going numb. There was no longer such an intense shooting pain whenever she moved and the previously shouting voices in her head mellowed out into calm whispers. A sigh of relief left the nurse's lips upon seeing a slight smile finally form upon Alice's, even if it was twitching and tiny.

The mental quiet was so relaxing, a desperately needed reprieve that Alice bathed in for a while. The opium has never been that relaxing, accompanied by the abuse, but by itself Alice could really see the appeal. She lay, blissed out for some time, until the sound of heavy footsteps pacing through the tiled corridor caught her ears.

She opened her eyes and John appeared in the doorway a second later, his body immediately un-tensing slightly upon seeing Alice awake and seemingly okay. The nurse promptly excused herself, completely ignored by him.

Now that they were alone with so many things to discuss, his pace slowed and the lump in his throat started to build again. Every step closer to the bed his brain became more desperate for something to say. Scrambling but unable to choose. There were a ridiculous number of topics to pick from and yet none of them seemed right.

Hurting his brother hadn't made him feel any better, in fact it made him feel worse; even angrier at Tommy than before - and he definitely didn't want to talk about that, let alone let slip the cruel words said about her. There was also the conversation of what to do next - get married soon or don't - and that didn't seem appropriate given the current mood nor did John even want to risk hearing rejection in his current mind state. And then there was the uncomfortable "How are you?" when the answer was glaringly obvious - that would just be stupid to ask.

It was too late now, he awkwardly stood at the end of the bed and still couldn't think of what to say. All air left his lungs and a heavy silence filled the room. What could he do now?

"It's okay. Come here." Alice's soft voice thankfully broke the silence, sounding like an angel choir to John.

Despite her hazey head, not only were his physical injuries visible but so were his emotional. Eyes a dizzying array of sadness, guilt and anger. Brows tightly furrowed. Lips pulled harsh into a falsely apathetic line. A moment passed before he let it up, finally releasing a heavy sigh and pulling a chair to sit beside her.

She held out her hand and he immediately gripped it, holding his head to her cold fingers for a few seconds before looking up again, her face always managing to make him feel extraordinary - bruised or not.

"You alright?" She gently cooed again, moving that hand to stroke his face which was now just as marked as hers.

Her touch made him feel even more strange, a trail of sparks left behind on his body by her beautiful, soft skin.

"How does she do this to me?" He thought as her hand started to feel like a cradle, almost comforting enough to lull him to sleep. Almost. His gut still felt knotted and a lump still danced in his throat.

"It's okay, we don't have to talk." Alice remained soft and calm, her light mood being aided significantly by the morphine. Only an hour beforehand she was certain that she'd ruined everything; her thoughts festering and screaming that John would never want her again, she'd be disowned by the Shelby's, everything had been ruined by her inability to say no to danger. Now those worries no longer bothered her. Instead she was just content with John's presence, comforting him instead of needing it herself.

"For once." A nagging thought attempted to pull her from the comfortable numbness but it was quickly squashed as he finally spoke, his mouth open for a second before he managed to get the words out.

"I want to talk." He stammered, swallowing again before continuing in a tone closer to his usual confidence.

"I want to talk, I just don't know where to start... I'm so bloody angry at you for even putting yourself in danger. You're a magnet for it and the worst fucking part is that you like it. You like the blood. You're sick, Alice." He took a sharp inhale, Alice's hands slowly falling from his face as each painfully honest word landed; the cloud she was on suddenly sinking.

"But I fucking love you." Now his voice quietened and his hand quickly made its way to her still face, rubbing her cheek softly as she had to him. "You're the dream that kept me going somedays in the trenches. And now I've got you, it feels like everything in the world is trying to take you away from me. Yourself included."

His words were slowly sinking in; heavy and hot like tar. It took Alice some time to think of an adequate response, her heart feeling simultaneously overjoyed and broken by the admittance, and just as she was about to mumble a slew of apologies, John spoke again, eyes boring into hers.

"They've given you something, haven't they? I should've waited to talk about this." A humourless chuckle left his lips, not even giving Alice time to respond before pulling his hand away and standing up, the chair legs making an ugly scraping noise that sounded ten times louder than usual combined with the sudden withdrawal of his touch. "I'll go find a nurse and sign you out-"

"W-wait!" She blurted out, anxiety now managing to creep it's way back up her spine. John's stare did nothing to alleviate that anxiety, but she knew she had to push through the fog and say the right thing - something intelligible at least.

"Can we continue.. from yesterday, yesterday morning I mean.. I'll make us breakfast, we can dance and everything will be good... I love you."

The heavy weight anchoring his lips down finally seemed to have been lifted, a smile that met his eyes lighting up his pale face. There was nothing he wanted more than to continue from yesterday morning and act as if none of this had happened.

"You're on bedrest, Alice. I'll make breakfast." He said with a playful scoff.

And just like that, the comfortable adoration had returned at least partially. Rocks removed from stomachs and lumps from throats, Alice sunk back down into the bed with a relieved sigh as her body relaxed again whilst John headed to find a nurse.

Looks of judgement were passed between patients and staff when he speedily wheeled her down the hall, the pair giggling loudly and the occasional gasp escaping Alice's lips at the every sharp turn. The dried blood and dark bruises heavily juxtaposed by their visible joy; as per leaving the nurses with more questions than answers when it came to the Shelby's.

Less than an hour later, the pair were laid back in John's bed and instead of laughter the room was silent. Contently silent. Their fingers were intertwined and their eyes glued to each others faces, taking in each minute detail with deep satisfaction.

The undivided attention was an intense aphrodisiac for the both of them, an unspoken wish that this moment could last forever. It was like a spell neither could explain, no words even needing to be spoke. After a while, John started to drift into sleep but not before Alice mumbled a quiet "I love you" and promptly dropped into a deep sleep moments after.

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cillianmurphylover22 · 1 year ago

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I only want you

Tommy Shelby x Alfie Solomons

No smut (you perv) Just angst

Tommy was getting impatient "Did you love her?" he mumbled angrily.

Alfie turned around slowly with a frown "Is this what it is all about, huh?" Alfie questioned Tommy

Tommy let out a chuckle and Alfie can't define whether he was going to punch him or put a fucking gun in his face.

"You did, you did love her, you fucker"

"I did, I did love her. So what? What difference does it fucking make, mate. I choose you, I fucking choose you to have sex with, to make love with, and yet you're here asking me if I still love her when it was fucking 2 years ago!"

Tommy couldn't think for the first time. He loves Alfie so much it hurts that he fucked others over the years that they were business partners. And it hurts to see him admit it so blandly infront of his face. It hurts because all those years he can't seem to be forward with alfie, always questioning him where he would go or who would he go out with and why.

"I love you more than her, thomas, I always will but I can't do this with you if you keep suspecting me of cheating with someone who isn't you." with that being said Alfie turned and left the house.

Tommy didn't know what to do, he shouldn't, he fucking shouldn't be accusing alfie with all those shit, he knows it wrong and he knows alfie is right, he also knows that one day alfie would leave him for someone because of all those shits his doing.

After a few hours, Alfie went home to see Tommy, maybe apologies for yelling or talk to Tommy about all this crap.

The door creaked open, Tommy didn't move he just drank another shot of whiskey like he always do.

"Tommy, you there? Tommy, darling?" Tommy's eyes light up.

"m'here, alfie" tommy slurs those words.

Tommy was a mess. A fucking mess. Hair rumbled like he almost wants to rip it out of his scalp, bottles of whiskey everywhere, his shirt creased as his collar is up, the sheets of the bed lay down on the floor.

"Tommy, what the fuck have you been up to?" alfie reached down to tommy as he was lying down on the floor.

"alfie, I'm sorry" his voice is rough it's like he said those words down his throat

"Tommy, let's get you to bed" alfie insisted

"alfie, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry" he sob in Alfie's chest

"Thomas, whatever you're saying say it to me tomorrow" alfie changes Tommy's clothes into a new one and fixed the bed so that tommy can lay down.

"alfie, I love you" those were the last words he said before he dozed off to sleep

The sun was bright, glazing Tommy's eyes as he felt a strong arm wrapped around him.

"Treacle, you're awake" alfie reached down to kiss Tommy's cheek

"What happened last night, alfie?" Tommy couldn't remember anything other than shouting and drinking a ton shit of whiskey

"Let's eat first, ey? I'm hungry" Alfie offered his hands to Tommy.

Tommy whines but takes Alfie's hand

They sat down and eat their breakfast with Cyril munching on his food.

"So, what happened?" tommy spoke

"Not much, just me coming home just to see you laying on the floor with whiskey in hand"alfie chuckled

"That's it?"

"Yeah, pretty much, treacle. Finish your food"

They both finished their meal and as tommy begin to walk out from the dining table, he felt a hand around his arms.

"I'm sorry for all the fucking yelling, mate and I'm sorry that I made you feel like I was fucking cheating on you." alfie spoke

Tommy was shocked about this, but he still remembered that it wasn't Alfie's fault.

"you have nothing to apologize about, Alfie. It's on me this time, I love you and I just hate the thought of her with you." tommy explained

"So, you're jealous?" Alfie let out a small smile

"I'm not fucking jealous, you bastard" Tommy exclaimed

"It seems like you're to me, mate. Well don't worry because I only want you, no one else" alfie then kissed him deeply and running down his hands on Tommy's back.

It's up to you whether you think they had sex or not (they did, and it's rough)

Sorry for wrong grammars, English was not my first language.

#Tommy shelby x alfie solomons #Jealous Tommy Shelby #Peaky blinders #Tommy doubts alfie #Angst

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warnersister · 9 months ago

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How the peaky boys react when dating a girl with a praise kink (nsfw) -> headcannon

Goes without saying, nsfw warning

Find the request here, sorry it took so long

Tommy🪖

🪖Tommy had you figured out before you’d figured yourself out.

🪖He knew what was going on in your head before your did.

🪖You were working late one Friday at the Garrison, of course many working men joyously engaging in Friday night drinking and drunkenness while their wives whittled wistfully back home.

🪖You weren’t expecting the Blinders tonight, but of course you’d always find room for the Peaky boys in this establishment, regardless if you were chocker with customers that the bar didn’t really have the capacity for. The door chimed and you spun, peering to see if you had the numbers to accommodate the x amount of customers you had walking through your door.

🪖”Evening boys, meeting or drinks?” You ask, readying yourself to go clean the business Roman that was wordlessly their property. “Just drinks tonight, love” Tommy answered with a small smile and you nod, placing your hands on your hips; balled into fists while you ponder around to find their empty table.

🪖You notice a table of rowdy youngsters occupying the usual Shelby spot and you narrow your eyes at them, internally questioning if you had the inner morals to boot paying customers out of their seats.

🪖”Be a good girl and get us a booth please, sweetheart” Tommy asks, well instructs, as he lights up another cigarette.

🪖He noticed the way your eyes darkened at his request and your lips parted slightly. You nodded. “Of course Tommy, give me a moment lads” you say, heading to the young gentleman to ask them to either head to the open seats at the bar or get gone.

🪖"hiya lads, sorry to bother.” You say as you approach the lot who look at you in question “but I’m afraid we need this booth, happy to serve you up at the bar or I’m sure another will open soon” you wince, apologetically. One scoffs. “Why should we? We’re paying customers?” He asks, beginning to instigate somewhat of an issue, when Tommy swoops in “I believe she asked you nicely” he grunts, and it was almost awe-strucking watching how fast the boys scampered out the door with mediocre apologies.

🪖Thomas wanted to test his small hypothesis again, placing a gentle hand on your lower back “such a good lass to your old Tom, aren’t you?” He hums and he watches as your jaw slackens and you swallow on your own saliva, beginning to stumble around a response. “My pleasure, Tom”

🪖And then a few months later, when he’d taken you out a couple of times you were more widely known as Tommy’s girl than you were your own name.

🪖It was again a Friday evening, usual crowd shuffling to their places and so were the boys.

🪖“evening boys” you smile, handing an older man his shandy as he makes his way back to his missus who was still sipping on her gin.

🪖“evening sweetheart” Tommy smiles, leaning across the bar to peck your lips as the rest of the boys head to their normal spot.

🪖business as usual

🪖you begin pouring their beers automatically, following Tommy to the table with umpteen pints and of course an apple juice for John, whom you’d cut off from alcohol.

🪖“good girl” Tommy applauds as you hand them their drinks, quiet enough that the rest of his rough crowd didn’t hear but loud enough for you to become unsteady on your feet.

🪖you didn’t know when you’d agreed to go home with Tommy. You don’t even remember locking the door to the Garrison. But now he had you buried deep beneath him as he rutted into you and there was nothing you really cared about more right now. If there was a problem you can deal with it when you were finished.

🪖he was trying to coax it out of you. Trying to coax out the fact that you revelled in it when he praised you. And it got him off to see that when other blokes such as Harry called you a ‘good lass’ for a decent shift, you didn’t bat an eyelid.

🪖“Come on love, got one more in you haven’t you?” You shook your head at his question, almost hoping that he’d let you rest after your third. “C’mon sweetheart, don’t you want to be a good girl for your Tommy?” He asks and you nod up at him through dazed eyes. “Hmm?” He asks, holding your jaw still with one hand while the other held him up above you. “Please. Please Tommy. Wanna be good for you” you mumble out, and he smirks - rutting into you at yet again, another relentless pace.

🪖”that’s it. Such a good girl f’me. So so good” he praises as your moans progressively get louder as you mewl beneath him.

🪖and eventually, when you’d both calmed down, he looked at you and smirked “good girl aren’t you?”

🪖”shut up Tom.”

Alfie🧸

🧸Eats that shit up, no crumbs, licks the plate clean.

🧸already kind of babies you, he doesn’t mean too. You’re a few years his younger and as your husband he sees it as his job to protect and provide for you while doting and taking care of you like any good man should.

🧸then one night he comes home a bit late from the bakery, readying to apologise when he’d noticed you’d just finished cooking dinner. “Well here I was all soppy and ready to apologise to you, yeah. And no, my good little girls just gone and made dinner!” He says, almost chuffed. You giggle and plate up the food, sitting across from him as he begins to eat.

🧸”what ‘y doing over there, then?” He scoffs “c’mere.” He instructs as you move to sit in his lap and he relishes in the meal you’d prepared “you’re so good to your old man, aren’t you?” He hums “so so good” he exclaims, only trying to show his appreciation but he noticed your pupils dilate at his words. He brushes it off, nothing major.

🧸later in the evening his sciatica was playing up so you wordlessly left the room to go draw him a bath with some new salts you’d bought from your elderly neighbour whom your husband refused to speak to on account of her being ‘a witch’ as he said.

🧸”oh you are a good’un aren’t you, poppet?” He hums, as he enters the room, allowing you to help him undress and get into the bath, afterwards preparing to make your leave and get him some medicine from the cupboard downstairs.

🧸”and where do you think you’re going?“ he questions, and you raise a brow “to get you some medicine” “I need no such thing. Now get in here w’me.” He grunts and you do as he says, never one to turn down a good relaxing soak in the bath with your husband.

🧸”there you are, good girl aren’t you? Always listening to your old man. What did I do to deserve you. So perfect” he rambled, and doesn’t notice the ever hazing glint in your eye and when he finally looks down at you he narrows his eyes and finally realised what that look was.

🧸his praises got you going.

🧸”tell y’what would make y’old man feel so much better,” he hums and you cock your head ready to help his pain ease “if you be a good girl f’me and give us a distraction” he suggests and you see the smirk unveiling under his beard, as he reaches for your thigh to pull you over his lap and to settle atop of him. “Seeing as you asked so nicely” you mumbled into his shoulder, as you began to rock against him.

🧸”there you go, there’s a good girl” he says as you come undone on top of him and collapse onto his chest, stroking your back gently with one hand and holding you close with the other. “Y’want to move, poppet he asks?” And you shake your head, eyes closed as you recover.

🧸 as soon as his sciatica pain eases up, he was going to abuse that little trick as often as he could.

Arthur🍺

🍺poor baby needs just as much praise as you do. Thinks he’s a shitty partner

🍺but god when he found out it was like finding the fucking Magna Carta.

🍺it was his ticket out of everything. Came home drunk? “I’m so sorry, you’re so good for putting up with me” In a fight? “you’re such a good wife for patching me up” literally anything you’re not agreeing on? “Oh my good girl”

🍺he’d found out when you were already buried beneath his, mewling as he took out his frustrations on you rather than the man he was originally destined to kill that day.

🍺”y’better feel good about y’self.” He grunts “man’s life was saved cause of you, you and this fucking insatiability.” He thrusts and you groan “please” you number “hmm? Feel good? Little saint you are, fuckin’ angel. Stopped me killin’ a man. Wanna get me into heaven do y’angel? Huh? That’s where you’re sending me?” He asks and you groan louder.

🍺”yeah, cause you’re such a good girl aren’t you?” And that’s when you let out the most gluteal pornographic moan that almost stopped his movements, instead it pushes the throttle and sends the both of you over the edge.

🍺”god Id’ve spared hundreds of men if it meant I got to hear that from you”

John🥃

🥃The Shelby family were enjoying an afternoon at the Garrison. Given, it was incredibly backed with gang members and people dissimilar; still the atmosphere was was light and full of laughter.

🥃you’d volunteered for the Saturday shift seeing as Harry needed extra help nowadays seeing as the customer numbers were ever growing.

🥃John was flirting with you, as ever. While you just rolled your eyes at his antics and offered him another drink.

🥃”blimey, I need to drop drinkin’ the hard stuff. I’m seeing an angel!” John feigned surprise, as he took his cap off his head to greet you, plopping it onto your own as he leaned in to kiss your cheek sweetly. “And I’m seeing a man who’s had one too many. I’m cutting you off” you warn, wagging a finger at him. “Well I do like a lady who takes care of her man” he smirks, but was cut off by a voice that altered the atmosphere in the bar.

🥃”I am looking for Thomas Shelby” the voice announced, and you felt uneasy; John’s face darkened as he clearly recognised the man who was a stranger to yourself. You look to the rest of his family who have a similar stature to him on their faces.

🥃”get behind the bar flower” John mumbles to you calmly, “that’s a good girl. Stay down there, sweetheart” he coos as you duck your head out of sight and into the small crawl space under the kegs.

🥃As the conversation continued, John looks over the counter to you discreetly. And your large doe eyes look back, and he could see the trust in them. He leans his hip against the oak bar edge, holding his hand over and motions for you to give him your own. You thread your hand with his, and he strokes the back of your knuckled gently; giving it a squeeze as Harry instructs them to take this out of his pub.

🥃John gives you one last reassuring squeeze of the hand before grabbing an empty beer bottle and heading out the door with his brothers. A few minutes, a couple of shouts and a gun shot the three walked back in as if nothing had happened.

🥃John leans over the bar “y’alright now, good lass” he says as you peer back up and get back up from your seat on the bar. He rests his arms against the wood and grins at you. “Let y’old John reward you f’ being such a good girl, hm?” He raises a brow and honestly expects nothing from his advance.

🥃you look at the clock on the wall and decide Harry could fend for himself for a while. You look at John and wet your lips, leaning down and grabbing his collar to bring him closer to you. “Meet me in the back”

🥃He jumped over the bar.

Bonnie🥊

🥊revels in it without really meaning too.

🥊also uses it to his advantage. He doesn’t mean it, honest.

🥊you were knelt in front of him, sitting back to rest on your ankles as you wrapped his hands for his fight. “You’re so good t’me, thank you angel” he thanks, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

🥊he knew what he was doing to you. Trying to get in your head.

🥊since he’d fallen hard and fast he’d decided that you were it for him. You were his and he was yours and nothing else. Especially when you agreed to live out his gypsy fantasies with him and give up the traditional home you were so accustomed too.

🥊and he was convinced you’d make the best mum.

🥊so this little praise obsession of yours was the perfect way to sway you onto his wavelength.

🥊”you’re gonna be great tonight, Bon” you say, smiling at him comfortingly. “M nervous” he mumbles and you shake your head, holding his hands in yours “it’s gonna be fine, just go out there and do your best. I’ll always be proud of you.” You say and he seems to settle slightly. “Y’d be such a good mother, darling” he tells you, moving some loose hair out of your face and behind your ear.

🥊he notices a slight blush on your cheeks, and decides to pry. “BONNIE; TIME!” His dad shouts through the door and you tap his leg, standing up to give him his good luck kiss. Instead, he slowly walks you back until your back hits the wall, two wrapped hands caging you.

🥊 “hmm, would’y like tha’? A mammy?” He asks and you stare up at him with dazed yet wide eyes. “Oh you’d be such a good mammy. So caring, so sweet. Y’so good t’me imagine how good y’d be to a young’un.” He hums, resting one hand on your waist. “So, so good” he bumps his nose with yours. “Then I’d marry y’a.” He continues “be a good wife too. The best. Such a good girl” he coos and you audibly whine and he smiles.

🥊”y’d like that? Gonna let me make y’a mammy?” He hums, ghosting his lips over yours “BONNIE!” His dad reiterates and Bonnie huffs. “Y’can do whatever Y’want to do to me, bon” you reply hazily and he smiles as you lean up to kiss him deeply, pulling away to lean your forehead on his, hands cradling his face. “After your fight.” You nod and he raises his brows “promise?” You smile back “promise.”

🥊fastest knockout he’d ever done.

Isaiah♟️

♟️uses it against you. Purposefully

♟️defo teases you for it

♟️you’d be at the garrison, having gone accompanying your twin brother Finn and expecting to see your boyfriend there eventually when you weren’t in your usual spot at home.

♟️he’d turned up around half and hour after you had, only looking to get a drink defo not looking for you.

♟️he sees you at the bar, yet by your side was some bloke he didn’t recognise. Some six foot slime ball with his hair slicked back so far it looked like it created a permanent surprised upkeep on his eyebrows. His suit was brand new, Isaiah assumed the tag was still tucked into a pocket somewhere for him to return and scrounge in the morning.

♟️and why were you talking back?

♟️you were drinking something dark, presumably the alcohol Isaiah preferred for you not to have.

♟️had he bought it you?

♟️Isaiah stormed his way over, fully prepared to lay out the man talking to you and throw you over his shoulder and lead you straight out of the pub; but the conversation you were having with the boy stopped you.

♟️”what d’y say love, wanna get out of here?” He asked “and for the fifth time. No. My husband will be here any minute. He’s a blinder y’know?” You scoff “well he ain’t here now, is he?” He asked you when Isaiah sweeper in and pressed his gun to the man’s temple “isn’t he?” He asked, cocking it as the man before you swallowed and visibly began to sweat.

♟️”I suggest you take yourself out of this pub, out of Birmingham and fucking away from my woman.” He grunts, and the man immediately scampers. Then Isaiah looks to you, and the relief decorating your face is immediately apparent.

♟️”oh Isaiah I’m so sorry I tried to get rid of him-” you begin and then your boy begins to smile “your husband?” He asked, raising a brow cockily and you begin to rock back onto your heels “just wanted to get rid of him” you mumble, and he wraps hands around your waist and settles them on the small of your back.

♟️”you’re so good to me, aren’t you doll?” He asks, smirk growing “rejecting other men f’me?” He hums and you nod “y’know good girls get rewarded, don’t you?”

♟️or when you’re not behaving as he’d want you too.

♟️”where d’y think you’re going?“ he asks as you open the door.

♟️”Ada invited me for drinks” “y’not going, not safe. Not w’them Italians crawling round” he instructs, expecting you to shrug off your coat and come join him in the lounge. He turns but hears the door click shut. And when he’d looked, you were gone.

♟️he was fucking fuming, livid, murderous.

♟️and when you’d shown back home at 2 in the morning, hiccuping, he was already stood at the door with his arms crossed.

♟️you smiled “hi Isaiah” you giggled, but he didn’t say anything as he walked you backwards and your back hit the wall. “In what fucking world does a woman not listen to her man?” He asked and you were immediately silenced. “Hmm?” He asks “why did you think you could just go out without me, you know how dangerous it is” he says “well-” “good girls don’t disobey their men, d’they princess” and he noticed how you cowered and sunk into your shell.

♟️he threw you over his shoulder and carried you up the stairs, rutting into you in the bedroom more times than you could count telling you how disappointed in you he was and every time you were close to release, he’d stop and tell you why you didn’t deserve it.

♟️he loved torturing you.

Michael🎱

🎱so belittling with it.

🎱loves to use it against you whenever he can because it always means that he wins

🎱the first time he’d sussed this little predicament of yours out was when you were entertaining him while his brother dealt business with your father deep within the Cotswolds.

🎱you’d served him tea and polite conversation, talking about your purity and how much he idolised you.

🎱”and you’ve no husband?” He asked and he placed his cup on his saucer you and you straightened your posture before responding “no, no husband” you confirm and he is forced to stifle his smirk “well you’d make the perfect wife” he tells you and he notices how you swallow harshly “well that comes appreciated, mister gray” you reply and he narrows his eyes.

🎱and then when you were married and doting on him, he’d always remind you of how he impacted you.

🎱he knew just how to get to you. “Dear, go be a good girl and fix me a drink” and you’d do so. “I’ve got to go to London for the week. Be a good lass and don’t leave the house” and you wouldn’t.

🎱and sometimes he’d take you to family meetings. Personally believing that the women shouldn’t really be at these meetings. But a quick slap to the head from his mother soon sorted him out.

🎱and then he walked in on John shamelessly flirting with you, and he knew full well you weren’t meaningfully engaging with his cousin, it’s what you were taught to do from a young age. But still, you were engaging.

🎱”flirting with my woman, John?” Michael grunted, entering the room to which the former rolled his eyes “just showing her what a real man could give her” he winked at you before swaggering out of the room. “Why did you entertain him?” “I didn’t-” “thought you’d promised to be a good girl for me tonight?” And that shut you right up. The desire to be praised overpowering all.

🎱 “how ‘bout you make it up to me tonight, sweetheart?”

Finn🎞️

🎞️for his whole life, Finn has always been overshadowed by his older brothers. So being able to have so much control over you was so addictively intoxicating that he just loved to abuse his power.

🎞️and he’s at that age in his early twenties when his hormones are heightened and all he wants to do is act like a rabbit in a hutch during mating season.

🎞️and sometimes you weren’t up for it.

🎞️not until he figured you out.

🎞️he’d had you going for three rounds. Overwhelmed from how his brothers had been belittling him all day during business meetings and finally finding a vector to take it out on.

🎞️you’d come undone beneath him, very exhausted from the relentlessness of his actions, when he blurted out “fuck you’re so good at this” as he released inside of you. You mewled and whined, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Again” you mumbled and he raised his brows “you sure?” He asked and you opened his eyes as he recognised how your irises had deepened two shades and smiled giddily “well alright then”

🎞️so whenever he needed something or someone to release his frustrations on all he had to do was stroke your cheek and call you “my good girl” and you were pretty much tearing his clothes off.

🎞️and even sometimes when he’s upset he uses it to tell you just how much he appreciates you. When times are particularly hard and when he just can’t cope with situations; he’d let you hold and cradle him and rock him back and forth while silent tears sunk down his face “you’re so good to me” he’d mumble over and over again in a sleepy voice until he’d fallen asleep in your arms and you’d manoeuvred him into a comfortable position as his arms tightened around you.

Aberama🌞

🌞oh god this man is insatiable.

🌞defo calls you his ‘good girl’ and doesn’t give a fuck who hears it.

🌞likes to shelter you from everything in this horrible world, thinks it’s his job to protect and shadow you from anything. You were just a dainty young thing with no clue, someone had to step up and he decided he was the man for the job.

🌞just loved to take good care of you so those for eyes stayed innocent and undamaged. Bare and pure unlike his that were darkened and locked with such an intricately pessimistic past

🌞one day Thomas Shelby decided to pay a visit to the camp and Aberama had beckoned you over and you did as you were told, he motioned for you to lean closer as you approached him. “Need you to stay out of the way for a while sweetheart, can you do that for me, is that alright? Just until he goes?” He asks with sweet eyes. You smile and nod at him “good girl, off you go” and you were off into the woods to pick some berries for a recipe you had an idea for.

🌞eventually he’d come looking for you, find you deep into a bush trying to reach a berry that you’d just had to have but couldn’t quite get too. He’d stayed back for a while, leant against a tree while he admired you. Until he’d felt the masculine desire to aid his lady. Coming behind you and placing his hands on your waist as he leant to grab the berry for you. You’d gasped but turned to see him, smiling brightly at him. “Thank you” “anything for you” he replied, pecking your lips gently.

🌞”always willing to help my special girl” he says “can always count on you can’t I?” And the grin turns into a gaping expression, wide and heavy eyes looking at him and he’d decided he had to have you right then and there.

🌞he’d hiked the skirt of your dress up to your waist and told you how much he appreciated you as you screwed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

🌞then he’d carried your worn out, sleeping figure bridal-style back to camp with your basket selection of berries resting in his arm as he looked down at you lovingly.

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reiwanwan · 30 days ago

Text

A warm place for goodbyes

Summary: Hazel Shelby thought she had left chaos behind when she moved to London, but an unexpected connection with Alfie Solomons challenges everything she thought she wanted

Part 6

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1925

I wrapped my coat tighter around me as I walked toward Alfie’s warehouse. The streets were quieter than usual, as if London itself was holding its breath. I told myself I wasn’t being reckless—I just needed to see him. Needed to hear his voice, feel the weight of his arms around me, even if only for a moment.

When I arrived, the warehouse was buzzing with activity. Men hauled crates and shouted orders, the air thick with the tang of salt and the faint metallic scent of blood. Alfie was in the middle of it all, his coat flapping as he gestured wildly, barking commands. He hadn’t seen me yet.

I hesitated by the door, suddenly unsure. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I should’ve stayed at the bakery, like he told me to. But before I could turn back, his voice cut through the din.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

I froze, my heart sinking. He was striding toward me now, his face a storm cloud of frustration and something else—fear, maybe?

“I needed to talk to you,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Needed to talk to me?” he repeated, his tone sharp. “Hazel, have you lost your bloody mind? You think this is a good place for a nice little chat, do ya?”

His men were staring now, their movements slowing as they watched the scene unfold. Alfie noticed and turned on them with a snarl. “What’re you lot lookin’ at? Get back to work!”

They scattered like leaves in a gale, and he turned back to me, his eyes blazing. “Inside. Now.”

I followed him into his office, the heavy door slamming shut behind us. The room was dimly lit, cluttered with papers and bottles and the faint scent of cigar smoke. Alfie paced in front of me, his hands flexing at his sides.

“What were you thinkin’?” he demanded, his voice low and furious. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near me right now, Hazel. You know that.”

“I had to see you,” I said quietly, my hands twisting in front of me. “I—”

“You what?” he interrupted, his tone rising. “You thought you’d just waltz in here, yeah? Like it’s a bloody tea shop? D’you know how dangerous this is?”

“I know,” I said, my voice trembling. “But I don’t care.”

“Well, you fuckin’ should!” he snapped, slamming his hand down on the desk. I flinched, and his expression softened for a moment before hardening again. “You think I can protect you here? With Luca Changretta breathin’ down our necks? You think he won’t use me to get to you?”

“I’m not afraid of him,” I said, though my voice wavered.

“Well, you bloody should be!” Alfie roared, his tone sharp and biting. “Not just him—this whole life, Hazel. You don’t belong in it. You’re not made for this mess, this filth.” He gestured wildly, his frustration spilling over. “You’re better than this, better than me…I’m afraid of what’ll happen if you keep showin’ up like this, Hazel. You don’t listen. You never bloody listen.”

His words hit me like a slap, and I felt tears prick at my eyes. “I came because I care about you, Alfie. Because I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his beard. “You think I’m okay? Hazel, I’m a dead man walkin’. I’ve made my peace with that. But you—you’ve got a chance. A life. And you’re throwin’ it away every time you come near me.”

I stepped closer, my voice shaking. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Then he turned away, his shoulders slumping. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, Hazel. And it’ll be my fault.”

The quiet desperation in his voice broke something in me. I reached out, touching his arm. “It won’t be your fault. I make my own choices.”

For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the fire in the corner. Then he turned back to me, his eyes tired but still burning with that fierce intensity I loved.

“You’ve gotta go,” he said softly, his voice raw. “You’ve gotta leave London. Go back to Small Heath with your family. Let Tommy keep you safe.”

I couldn’t bear it anymore. I could not waste my energy to continue arguing and trying to prove my point. I left without a word, my tears flowing free as I walked through the streets, ignoring stares from onlookers around.

Alfie had been ignoring me.

All my calls went unanswered and when he did pick up he’d rush through our conversation, sounding disinterested, and he would tell me he was busy or that it wasn’t a good time to call. But I knew better. Alfie was never too busy for me—until now.

Five days of silence from Alfie. Each day felt heavier than the last, the weight of his absence pressing on me like a stone. I tried to focus on the bakery, on Ada, on anything but the sinking feeling in my chest.

That night, after closing the bakery, I decided to try calling him one more time. It had become a ritual by now, dialing his number at the same time every evening, knowing he wouldn’t answer. But this time, the line clicked, and his voice came through.

“What is it, Hazel?” he asked, his tone gruff but familiar.

He never called Hazel over the phone. It was always either Hazelnut or my love.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. I had been so sure he wouldn’t pick up that I hadn’t prepared for what to say if he did.

“Alfie,” I breathed, relief washing over me. “You finally answered.”

“Yeah, well, figured you weren’t gonna stop, were you?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it was guarded, distant.

“I just… I wanted to talk to you. It’s been almost a week.”

“Been busy, love. Got a lot on my plate.”

swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know you’re busy, but that’s never stopped you before. Are you still mad at me?”

There was a pause, long enough to make my heart race. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost apologetic. “Nah, I’m not, why would I be? you didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Just tryin’ to sort some things out, that’s all.”

“Can we meet?” I asked quickly, before he could change the subject. “Tomorrow. Before I go back to Small Heath.”

Another pause. I could hear him breathing on the other end, the faint sound of papers rustling in the background.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “Come by the house after work.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He didn’t say goodbye, just hung up, but I didn’t mind. For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again.

The next day, I closed the bakery a little earlier than usual. I didn’t bother going home first; I didn’t want Ada to ask questions or try to stop me. As I walked to Alfie’s house, my hand brushed against the gun in my purse. I hated carrying it, but Tommy’s words rang in my ears: “You can’t be walking around unarmed, Hazel. Not now.”

It felt heavier than it should have, like it knew I wasn’t the kind of person who used weapons. But I kept it with me anyway. Just in case.

When I arrived at Alfie’s house, the door opened before I could knock. He stood there, his broad frame filling the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Hazel,” he said simply, stepping aside to let me in.

I walked past him, setting my purse down by the door. The house smelled like him—whiskey, smoke, and something earthy, like cedarwood. I turned to face him, and for a moment, we just stood there, looking at each other.

Then he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. It felt like coming home after being lost in a storm.

“I missed you,” I said quietly.

He didn’t say anything, just held me a little tighter.

We stayed like that for a while, neither of us speaking, just holding onto each other. Finally, he pulled back, his hands resting on my shoulders as he looked down at me.

“Come on,” he said gruffly. “Let’s sit.”

We moved to the sitting room, where a fire crackled in the hearth. I sat on the worn leather couch, and he took the chair across from me. For a moment, it felt like old times, like the days before the letter, before everything started falling apart.

But the silence between us wasn’t comfortable anymore. It was heavy, filled with unspoken words.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” I asked finally, my voice barely above a whisper.

Alfie leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his beard. “I wasn’t avoidin’ you.”

“Yes, you were,” I said, my tone sharper than I intended. “You’ve been shutting me out ever since I came over to see you at work. Why?”

He sighed, looking away. “Because I don’t want to lose you, Hazel. And if I keep you close, if I let myself think about what could happen—” He stopped, shaking his head. “I can’t do it.”

I stared at him, my heart aching. “You think pushing me away is going to make it easier? It doesn’t work like that, Alfie.”

He didn’t respond, just stared into the fire.

“I’m leaving for Small Heath tomorrow,” I said after a moment. “Tommy thinks it’s safer if we’re all together.”

Tommy’s right,” Alfie said, his voice low.

“I don’t want to go,” I admitted. “I want to stay here. With you.”

Alfie looked at me then, his blue eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name. Regret, maybe. Or sadness.

“You’ve gotta go, Hazel,” he said firmly as we walks towards me. “It ain’t safe here, not for you. Not with the Changrettas sniffin’ around.”

I looked down at my hands, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said softly. “I do too.”

He stood then, crossing the room to sit beside me. He took my hands in his, his grip warm and steady. “Listen to me, love. You go back to Small Heath. You stay with your family. And you stay alive. That’s all I care about.”

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I meant what I said, Hazel. You’re too good for all this. Too good for me.”

“You’re all I ever wanted Alfie”

“And you’re all I’ll never bloody deserve”

“Don’t say that,” I breathed, my throat tightening. “Don’t you dare fucking say that.”

His hand reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. His touch was rough, calloused, but so achingly gentle it made my heart ache. “I just wanted to keep you safe,” he murmured. “Even if it meant keepin’ you away from me.”

I swallowed hard, my vision blurring with unshed tears. “But I don’t want to be away from you.”

For a long moment, he just looked at me, his expression torn. And then, before I could say anything more, he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in the softest, most tentative kiss.

It was slow and unhurried, as though he was memorizing the feel of me, the taste of me. His hands cupped my face, holding me as though I might slip away at any moment. And I clung to him, pouring everything I couldn’t say into that kiss—my love, my longing, my heartbreak.

When we finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re leavin’ tomorrow,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation.

I nodded, my chest tightening. “I have to.”

He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as though he was trying to keep himself together. “Then let me have this, just for tonight.”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. Instead, I leaned into him, letting the weight of the moment settle over us. For tonight, we could pretend. Pretend that the world wasn’t pulling us apart, that tomorrow didn’t have to come.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #tom hardy #alfie solomons #tommy shelby #alfie solomon fanfic #alfie solomons headcanon #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy imagine #angst

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 8 months ago

Note

hello!!! hope you’re doing great, I kinda wanna ask about Thomas x Sister Shelby if you do that ? And if you do I’m thinking she’d be smart, has a very quick tongue and she wants to get out of the Shelby business to marry the love of her life (alfie😝😍) so she fakes her death and ofc everyone is distraught and angry than after a few years Thomas sees alfie at his home and than comes his sister who he thought had died and he berates her than she says something like you’re a worse person than me always killing for money like he can’t live without a war. Also I am in the mood for a very angst ending

A/N: Hello my love! How are you doing? I am so so sorry that this has taken forever. Truthfully, I had no clue how to do this. I thought about this long an hard, and though some things I switched up, I hope you enjoy this. I feel like this got me to stretch my writing muscles, and it was really fun. Let me know what you think darling!

Run Away With Me Darling

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader; 3.8k words; fluff, angst

Warnings: language, contentious family relationships, arranged marriage???

It started innocently enough.

You bringing tea and biscuits to meeting rooms where the men started their schemes. Listening and taking notes alongside your ever watchful Aunt Polly. Sneaking glances at the big brute in the chair across from your big brothers.

“Thank you treacle. Yeah that’s real kind of you.”

That brute is the only man that would say thank you for the tea you bring by. And when you go to pour more for him, he’s the only man who says, “No need for that darling. Grown men can pour their own tea yeah?”

It wasn’t meant to be anything more than professional. But you should’ve known. Known from that first encounter outside those Shelby walls… you and Mr. Solomons shared a single soul… and heaven nor hell could keep you from each other’s grasp.

It was hot. London is not a tropical city by any means. But the sheer amount of bodies, activity, and warm rain, had transformed the city into a sauna. The wisps of your hair along your neck and forehead are plastered to your body. Rivulets of sweat sneak down your chest. The heat could only be described as oppressive. You were counting down the steps till you could go home.

On the one hand… it was strange having a home all to yourself. Truthfully, it was the Shelby homestead in London, where the family would stay when business needed attending to. However, when they all left, you stayed. Carrying delicate messages. Keeping a close pulse on the going’s on of the city. And perhaps most importantly… remaining a pretty show pony for the Shelby family.

You hated to admit it. But you were desperately jealous of Ada. She had the guts to sneak past Arthur, Tommy, and John. She had the foresight to marry her true love before Tommy could marry her off to the highest bidder. You had no such luck. No childhood love. No sweetheart to campaign for. The boys had made sure of it. Despite Ada and your protests, and Polly’s discrete ploys; Tommy had decided. The sweet, pure, and innocent youngest Shelby girl will be auctioned off to the richest and most lucrative partner for the Shelby Company. And she will remain pretty and docile. A prize.

The mere thought made your stomach twist and churn and burn.

You loved them. Your family. More than most love their family. But you could barely breathe under their watch. Even in another city you felt the reach of their eyes. Felt the whisperings of potential matches for your hand and womb. The sweat on your brow burned your eyes. Taking place of the unshed tears you long abandoned.

All you longed for was cold water. A cool bath. Anything to scrub off the sweat and dirt and exhaustion. However, shade covered your front door, casting a shadow over the threshold.

“Sweetheart! Been waiting a bit for you!”

No matter where you see Mr. Solomons, he seems to take up all the space. You don’t know how he is able to stand the heat, with his coat and hat and bushy beard. But he looks unfettered. Cool even. You finally felt the kiss of the breeze on your neck as you approached.

“Mr. Solomons. How can I help you?”

“You going to invite me in like a good girl?”

“I’m not in the business of inviting strange men into my home.”

“You think me strange?”

“Oh Mr. Solomons you are the strangest man I’ve ever met.”

“Makes you a little excited though don’t it? A hint of danger yeah? Big brute standing at your door.”

You stuck your chin out, staring directly into his stormy eyes. “I’m not afraid of you Mr. Solomons.”

His mouth quirks up in the corner. A twinkle in his eyes, and your breath hitched as he leaned into your space, “Oh I know sweet. You ain’t like the others ain’t ya? I saw it… the first time I laid eyes on you I knew you were different. Those boys… cold blooded little snakes… you… nah… there’s a flame in you treacle…and I look forward to see you set things aflame.”

Before you could respond in any way, he leaned away, smiling at your response. He pulled out an envelope from his coat and handed it to you, “Contract and information for your devious brother my sweet. Don’t worry, put a little something in there for you too for your trouble.”

You snatched the envelope from his hand. Unsure of how to respond to his… behavior. His rumbling laugh set a shiver down your spine, but you pushed it down as you appraised him, “This seems below your job description… don’t you have messenger boys?”

He further smirked, “I hope you’ll forgive me, that I want to keep you to myself.”

“I’m not a kept girl.”

“That you are not. Just have to inform your brothers of the fact don’t you?”

Hot shame rose in your cheeks. The envelope in your hands crinkling sharply. You felt the cool brush of gold rings on your cheek, “I have a standing dinner every Thursday evening. Let it be our little secret, hmm?”

Before you could react, a coarse kiss is pressed to your knuckles. As he started walking away, you called out, “And if I don’t show up? What then?”

He turned, with a boyish smile, “You’re not a kept woman treacle. Not my business. I’ll just send my messenger boys in my place.”

That was a year ago. Things were so simple then. Secret dinners. Secret mornings. Secret dalliances and outings around town. And when the family came to town, you placed that mask back on. Sweet, innocent, and docile Shelby girl. Ready at the beck and call of her family. And when they left, you ran right into the arms of Alfie. Because where it all started as something to feel disobedient, it grew into something deeper and more ancient. You felt your soul intertwine with his, as if it was always searching for him. In the evenings when he whispered his love for you and kept you close, you had never felt safer. Never felt more alive.

But dreams are not forever. Sooner or later the bubble must pop.

“You’ll need to come back to Birmingham dearest.”

“For how long?”

Everyone looked up at Tommy. Tommy didn’t even look up from his dinner plate, “Permanently. I’ve got a husband for you.”

Your fork dropped. Your heart stopped beating.

You faintly hear Aunt Polly call your name.

“Husband?” You whispered.

Tommy sighed, “That is what I said. High time you married, you’re old enough. Mr. Gorman has multiple factories both here and in the states, and his son is set to inherit them all. It’s a good match, it’ll be very beneficial to the company.”

“Tommy I don’t even know him.”

“You have your entire life to get to know him. Now finish your dinner.”

“So you just decided is that it? You just decided to that I’d belong to some man? Tell me Tommy… how much did you sell me off for? How much is my womb worth?”

“Watch your mouth!” Polly hissed, with Arthur wincing at the cutting words.

“I’m not going.” You stood from your chair. Preparing for battle.

“It’s not up for discussion.”

“I’m not going! You cannot make me!”

Tommy rose from his seat, John putting his head in his hands with Arthur knocking back a drink. Low. Deadly. Tommy always could command a room with his voice. Cold finger pointing at you like a deadly weapon. “You will do as you’re told. This is not about you. This is about the family. In a week, I will come fetch you. I will drag you back to Birmingham if I have to. And you will marry the young Mr. Gorman, and you will have as many of his fucking babies as he chooses. You will be rich. You will be safe. And you will be set. I am not about to argue with a child.”

You felt the tears well up in your eyes. Sorrow. Mourning. Hatred. “I hate you Thomas Shelby. I hate you.”

“You will get over it.”

You ran to your room. Weeping the rest of the night.

Because how can your body and name be given to a man, when your heart and soul belonged to another?

They left the next morning. Arthur knocking on your door to announce the departure, and trying to convince you, “He’s a good lad darling. Trust Tommy alright? Wouldn’t let nothing bad happen to ya, even though it seems like right shit. Don’t be too angry at us. We’ll all still be close. And anyway… it’s what’s good for the family.”

You didn’t look at him. Not even a hum of acknowledgment when he kissed your hair tenderly. A regretful sigh leaves his body as Arthur walked away, taking one last look at your quivering body on your maiden bed. Arthur always had a soft spot for you. Always defensive for you unlike your other siblings. He had tried in vain to get Tommy to rethink the arrangement. You didn't need to get married. The company didn't need such an alliance. They'd get by as they always have. But Tommy's sights were set much higher. He wanted that name of honor. And to get it, he was willing to play by the rules of old money. Tommy had convinced Arthur enough. Enough that you'd eventually forgive them all.

The orange sky illuminated your bedroom in a bloody hue. Your throat dry and head hot and pounding. The creaking and settling of the house had become a steady ring in your ears, you didn't even hear the bedroom door open.

"Treacle. What are you doing? Eden said you haven't left since last night. You ill?"

Maids hear everything, you think bitterly. But you couldn't be too cross with Eden. Not really.

"He's done it Alfie."

Alfie toed off his boots after the hat and coat. Sinking into the too ornate duvet. "Who treacle? What happened?"

You faced him, deep creases of the duvet threads divide your hot wet cheeks. Lashes clumped together and soaked. "Tommy... he... he finally did it. He's married me off. In a weeks time I'm to belong to some... Mr. Gorman. His father owns factories, and I suppose that's enough for my bride price."

You feel your body being gently tugged up and into Alfie’s embrace. Despite any protest from you about how it may affect his back, he shushes you instantly, “Now now my little dove. Nah you ain’t going back to Birmingham. You ain’t getting married to some prick. Nah you’re staying here with ol’ Alfie.”

You force your face under his chin, letting his unkempt beard absorb your sobs, “No Alfie it’s true! Tommy told me yesterday at dinner! He… he’s taking me away Alfie! I hate him. I hate him so much. I don’t want to marry some man I don’t even know!”

“I already told you darling, you’re not going to! It’s not happening.”

You push his shoulder, “You’re not listening to me! Tommy said-“

“I don’t give a shit what Tommy said! You’re not marrying the shit because you’re marrying me!”

Like an unpracticed magician, he pulled out a gorgeous diamond and sapphire ring. Its glimmer and fractals made it look as endless as the night sky. You felt the breath in your lungs catch, anger and fear simmering down and cooling. You dared not touch something to precious, “Alfie Solomons…”

“Was my mother’s. Gave it to me when I came back from the war. On her death bed. Made me swear that I wouldn’t give it up for any pretty girl on the street. Had to give it to the one.”

You struggled to meet his gaze, “And I-“

“The one treacle. If you’ll have me.”

He shifted you in his lap, fully facing him, “Now… I had a whole event planned out. Garden stroll. Drinks. Music playing. And I know I’m a sorry old monster and you have loads of suitor-“

“Alfie-“

“But I swear on my life treacle, you’ll never want for anything. You will have freedom to do whatever you would hope to do. We’ll go anywhere. I’ll love you till the stars go out-“

“Alfie! Yes! Yes yes yes! I’ll marry you! You silly old man!”

You pushed him back and kissed him fiercely. With all the passion you had been hiding from your family for years. Until the acidic burn of reality came down, “But what about Tommy? Alfie you hate each other, he’ll never let me go.”

Rough hands running up and down your thighs, gazing in awe at the fiery halo surrounding you. “I was willing to go in and threaten blessing or death.”

“I won’t have you put in danger for love. This isn’t Shakespeare.”

With a laugh and kiss to your fingertips he whispers, “You got any ideas? I’m all ears.”

You try to think, but kept coming across a wall. Any option you thought of ended in bloodshed. You fell into the bed next to Alfie, curling into his chest, “I wish we could just run away.”

His arms tighten around you, “What if we did?”

It would happen three days before Tommy would come to fetch you. You dismissed Eden with an oath to secrecy, and for four days you played the part of excited bride to be. Purchasing things for a new marital home, a wedding dress and new wardrobe. Who cares if the detail of the lucky husband was slightly off?

Whenever your family called, you lied happily through your smiling teeth. At first you felt a twinge of guilt. But in the end, they stood by as your brothers sold you off. They lost the right to the truth. They hated Alfie, said as much any time they came to the house. They would never understand. They would never allow it. But this was your life. And you would be damned before you were cleaved from your beloved.

The men from the distillery made regular visits to the house in the middle of the night, picking up your things to take to Margate, dropping off love letters and updates from Alfie. With each passing day, your heart became lighter. The binds lessening. Freedom was right on your tongue.

Three days before Tommy, Arthur, and John are to pick you up, the horrific news explodes through Birmingham. The Shelby home in London: set ablaze. No survivors. The beautiful bride, burned alongside her wedding dress hanging in the window. The youngest Shelby girl, an angel amongst demons, taken too soon from the earth from a horrific accident. The fire so destructive, not even a body is there for a proper burial. Just ash and a memory of that sweet face. The funeral is horrible. Wailing and weeping from all of Birmingham. Aunt Polly could barely keep it together, blaming Tommy for it all. Even business acquaintances from London and beyond come to pay their respects. The most shocking visitor, was Mr. Solomons, who paid for the funeral itself, “I’m sorry Tommy for your loss. I really am. She was a sweet girl. But… she’s in a better place I’m sure.”

And what a better place that is. White washed home right on the beach, windows open at all times, with the sea breeze billowing pristine gossamer curtains in the wind. You spend your days reading and writing to your heart’s content, strolling the beach, playing with Cyril like a child. As Alfie settles affairs in Camden during the week, he visits during the weekend, serving and worshipping you like a goddess. He never gave you information about the family. You didn’t want it. That was your old life. A you that you couldn’t recognize. Here, in this life, you were free. Free to speak. Free to argue and give your mind.

After a month, Alfie permanently moves to Margate. Home. Retired from the gangster life with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, with more than enough to comfort when he’s gone.

And the years pass blissfully. Just how it was in the beginning. Kisses and dancing and laughter and arguing and love and joy. 3 years of absolute heaven, you had nearly forgotten how it all was almost taken from you.

But the past does have a way of rearing its ugly head doesn’t it?

It’s the dawn of summer. The final kisses of spring bringing crisp clean air through your marital home. Alfie had never felt better. The pain in his body had long left him, only flaring during the coldest evenings. The dark circles under his eyes have dissolved. His face and body, fuller, firmer with the glowing health of a man at peace who works for life not death. You were upstairs, searching for the a particular spool of thread you had been working with for a blanket you had spent days on. But it needed to be done soon. Alfie shifted through the records you both had been collecting. Symphonies had become his special interest in the recent months, and he was looking for a particular composition that he felt would make your heart sing.

The heavy knock on the door sent the hair on his neck stand at attention.

Only one demon knocked like that.

His eyes shifted to the stairs. He could still hear you moving things around. Searching tirelessly for that spool. You’d be missing for a couple minutes. Enough to rebuke the vile creature from the door without your discovery.

With a deep breath, Alfie tries to remember the armor of his past. The Mad Baker. Just as another round of knocks was about to come, Alfie opened roughly, “Tommy! What are you doing here? Gates of hell need their master don’t they?”

He looked thinner than normal. It’s been years since the men had seen each other, but the difference was still shocking. Those icey blue eyes even more haunting than they were at the funeral. Gaunt cheeks and pale skin made him look like a living corpse. A flicker of a flame winked behind those eyes. Hope for another fight. Something to set him aflame. “Hello Alfie. Enjoying retirement?”

“Yeah actually I am so whatever you have up your sleeve I want no part in it so if you’ll just fuck off.”

Before Alfie could slam the door, Tommy stuck his foot in the door, “Not that simple Alfie. Worlds gone to shit and it needs Solomons to set it to right.”

“Your world not mine. Now get out.”

“I’m not going to leave until you let me in Alfie.”

Your angelic voice danced on the breeze down to the front door, “I found it! Alfie you would not believe where it was! I swear I’m losing my mind.”

Tommy’s face some how went paler. As if he heard Satan’s whisper of condemnation. Alfie tried to push the door closed, but with the strength of a mad man Tommy pushed past the threshold.

Tommy almost fainted.

This must be hell.

He must have died.

It’s the only rational idea.

God chose to lock him in the home of his biggest agitation, with the ghost of his dead baby sister.

But this couldn’t be your ghost. Your swollen belly proves this.

“Holy shit.” You drop the tea cup in your hands when you see Tommy. Tommy who wasn’t supposed to be here. Tommy who saw you buried and dead.

Alfie rushes in, pulling you behind his broad frame. Through his linen shirt, you feel the ragged breath and hammering heart of your husband. You feel faint. “Tommy… you need to leave right now.”

“You paid for the funeral.”

“Tommy we can do this later but you need to get out right now. I’m asking nicely.”

“You knew she was alive… you knew.”

“She is very delicate right now she does not need any excitement.”

“You fucking made her delicate! You compromised her you fucking bastard!”

You cried out as Tommy lunged for your husband, “Stop it Tommy! Enough! Get out of my house!”

Tommy stumbled, pointing at you, “You… you’re fucking sick. You’re demented! You caused Polly a near heart attack. You are disgusting!”

You push past Alfie, who is left watching, “I’m disgusting! You sold me off to some man. And for what? To get people to see you as a big man? Guess what Tommy, you will NEVER be good enough for them! They’ll always see people like us as trash! But you don’t care. Anything to get ahead right?! You’ll stoop as low as you need to ahead.”

Tommy laughed bitterly, holding back the urge to spit, “And what about you yeah? So spoiled that you throw the biggest tantrum of the century. Whore yourself out to the Mad Baker, and get knocked up with his bastard.”

“I’d stop talking if I were you Tommy.”, Alfie snarled darkly. Fists curling in. Like a wolf ready to devour.

“I’d rather be his whore than be a part of any family of yours. You can’t leave well enough alone. Murdering and slaughtering for some honor so quick to tarnish and fade away. You tried to lock me away, never taking a care to what I wanted or thought. But you can’t do that to me anymore. I’m a Solomons, and I carry his child. You can’t touch me.”

Tommy settled, steel washed over his face. “They have a right to know.”

“You all have a right to nothing. I’ll see the family when I’m good and ready.”

His eyes shift to Alfie, “You are evil incarnate. You are cursed.”

No sign of mirth reaches Alfie’s eyes when he smirks, “Careful Tommy. You know what they say about curses. Especially when you curse family.”

Without another word, Tommy storms out. As soon as the door slams, shaking the lamps, you let out the breath in your heavy lungs, “Holy Shit”.

Your knees give out from under you, and cold shakes roll through your body. Alfie grabbed your body, helping you into a chair. “Settle my love it’s alright he’s gone. What do you need? Baby ok?”

“No I’m ok thank you my love. I just… I need air. I can’t believe he came here. He knows. They all know.”

“Hush darling, breathe for me, settle your nerves, you don’t need to worry. They know but they can’t touch you. You’re my wife and they can’t get to you. You are your own woman. You are safe.”

“But what are we going to do. What if they come?”

“Then we’ll deal with them. I’ll have some boys come in, set up a watch. We won’t be caught off guard ever again.”

You nodded. Trusting the words of your husband. You felt an affirming kick in your ribs. The rushing of your heart. You had paradise for three years. You couldn’t run forever, no matter how far you got. The bell had finally tolled, and it was time to face it.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders

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loulouwrites · 9 months ago

Text

HELLISH . AFLIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's secretary makes the decision to marry, it's a shame her prospective husbands seem to disappear after one meeting warnings: angst, violence, swearing, jealousy, threats, borderline stalking honestly, muderous thoughts, unedited, unrequited love word count: 3.5k a/n: i've been away for a while bc life is hard. i wanted to write a little alfie story not related to the 'home series' and came up with whatever this is so i hope you enjoy. i'm working on a taglist, so if you would like to be included, lmk <3 also lmk if you'd like a part 2 to this, i've already cooked something up!

She had known Alfie Solomons for about three years, and they had been friends since they had met.

Two years into their strange friendship, she had been sacked from her job as a secretary for an Italian businessman, he didn't say why he suddenly decided he didn't require her services, but they both knew. Tensions were rising between the Jewish quarter and Italian quarter in Camden, and everybody was sticking to their own side of town.

When she had told Alfie about it, he had offered her a job immediately - the rising tensions were partly his fault anyways.

Her mother had not been happy when her daughter came home with news she would be working for Alfie Solomons, but when she saw the stack of notes Mr Solomons had given as a 'pay advance', she warmed to the idea.

It was easy work. He had his men for the nitty-gritty stuff, she merely typed up Alfie's ramblings and sent threatening telegrams to people - it was easier than any legitimate job she had ever had, and it paid better, too.

She would often have lunch with Ollie, Alfie's second in command if you wanted to call him that. She was allowed a longer lunch than he was, Ollie wasn't supposed to have a lunch break at all, but if she were talking to him, it was rare they would be interrupted, unless there was an urgent matter to attend to.

Ollie was a good gossip, better than any of the other men in the bakery, Alfie excluded. But, unlike Alfie, Ollie had no interest in her, sexually or romantically, so she enjoyed the time she could spend talking to him, discussing rumours or chatting about their lives outside of work without it turning into something else within minutes.

"Do you think he'll let me leave an hour early?" She asked from where she was perched on the man's desk, swinging her feet back and forth.

"He'd let you leave now if you asked," Ollie replied, rolling his eyes at the girl. It was true, Alfie would probably still pay her if she didn't show up, he'd let her release a group of pigs in his office if she wanted to.

"He's in a mood, though."

"He's always in a mood."

"Not as bad as this," she pointed to their boss' office, where the blinds were pulled up, showing his figure stomping around the small room, throwing pieces of paper and trinkets onto the ground.

"Fuck," she sighed as a loud crash was heard, though they couldn't see what had bared the brunt of the man's rage from their seats.

"Maybe reschedule?" Ollie offered, his eyes not leaving the glass window of Alfie's office.

"I'm just going to ask him," she planted her feet on the ground, ignoring Ollie's protests. "The worst he can do is say no," she shrugged, walking towards the office door.

"That is not the worst he can do," he called after her in an urgent whisper.

She didn't knock when she entered, she never had, and she wasn't about to start now.

A book flew past her face when she stepped inside, and she quickly stepped to the side, it hitting the wall behind her and falling to the floor.

"What did...that Russian book ever do to you?" She asked, and his head snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide.

"Shit, sorry 'bout that, love," he sighed, wiping a hand over his face but she waved him off, moving to sit in one of the chairs at his desk.

"Bad day?"

"Better now," he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. "What do you want?"

"I want to leave an hour early," she offered him a wary smile, clasping her hands together pleadingly.

"You fuckin' what?"

"Please, Alfie-" she started, but he was up from his seat before she could finish her sentence, pacing up and down the cramped office with his hands on his hips. "It's only an hour, and I'm not doing anything anyway."

"You're not doing anything?" his eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "You're really admitting that to your boss?"

"Please, Alfie," she stood up, taking a few steps towards him. "I never ask you for anything."

She scowled at the obnoxious laugh he let out in response.

"Never ask me for anything?" his voice raised an octave to mock her. "A pay advance that you still haven't paid back," he help up a finger as he counted. "A weekday off so you can go shopping when it's less crowded, a bonus so you can get your mum a birthday present, a day off when your fucking cat died," he stepped towards her. "Asking me to come to it's fucking funeral."

"You said it was a lovely service," she placed a hand on her chest in offense.

"You know what?" he sighed, rubbing a hand up and down his face. "Just fuck off, yeah?"

"Really?" She smiled, clapping her hands.

"But you will come in an hour early tomorrow to make up for it, or so help me God, I will come to your house and drag you here myself."

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.

"Thank you, Alfie." She reached to place a kiss on his cheek, not taking offense when he reached to wipe his cheek when she pulled away, already opening the door to leave. "I'll see you bright an early tomorrow."

She couldn't make out what he grumbled after her.

Alfie waited until she had left the bakery to slink out of his office, approaching Ollie's desk, and tapping on it with his knuckles.

"Why'd she want to leave early?" he asked his assistant, not missing the way the younger man sunk down in his seat.

"I don't want to tell you," Ollie replied, sheepishly.

"Ollie," Alfie warned.

"She's meeting up with someone?"

"Ollie."

"A man. She's meeting up with a man, her mum's friend's son or something. Think she's looking to settle down, you know?"

Alfie hummed, a hand coming up to rub his beard. "Interesting," he mumbled, walking back to his office, landing a smack to Ollie's head as he passed.

Her suitor had been a perfect gentleman. Jacob had taken her to a fancy club in a nicer part of London, had bought her dinner and drinks without grumbling about the prices, and had dropped her off at home with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to take her out again the following weekend.

She hadn't thought a man her mother had set her up with would be particularly charming, but she had been proven wrong, the stupid smile she wore on her face all week being proof of that.

She had been thinking of settling down for a while. All of her childhood friends were married with several children at this point, and she didn't miss the sympathetic looks they would give her when she told them she was still unmarried, still childless, and still working.

Marriage was always something she thought would come naturally -as it seemed to do with everyone else around her - but years rolled by and she was still no closer to the life that had seemed so easily achievable when she was young. So, she had decided to take matters in her own hands, informing her mother and everyone else she could that she was ready to marry, and asking them to let her know if they knew a boy they thought would be a good match.

And, she thought she had found the good match on her first try, but when the week after her date rolled on, and there was no word from Jacob, she realised how stupid she had been.

She had been moodier than ever that week, stomping around the bakery with a scowl on her face, smacking the keys of her typewriter harder than necessary, and barely speaking two words to whoever approached her.

She was not dealing with the rejection well.

So, when a handsome worker - who she recalled was named James -- passed her desk, offering a confident smile as he did, she wasted no time.

She wandered into Alfie's office with her hands clasped behind her back, swaying slightly as she waited for him to look up from the papers on his desk.

"What?" He asked, still reading the scribbles on the page.

"Didn't know you'd taken new people on," she shrugged nonchalantly, keeping her tone light and unbothered.

"And? What about it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged again, stepping further into his office. "Just a lot of new faces around here,"

Alfie groaned, dropping the papers from his hand and removing the glasses he wore from his face. "Since when do you care about new faces?"

"I don't," she laughed defensively. "I was just wondering about one of them, is all."

"You were just wondering about one of them," Alfie's eyebrows rose, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "What were you wondering about?"

"I mean...maybe some background..."

"Like what? His favourite fucking book? The fuck you expect me to know?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," she held her hands up in defense, and her boss' eyes squinted at her words.

"I thought you were already seein' someone, that is why you left early a couple weeks ago, ain't it?"

"Who the fuck told you that?"

"Don't matter," Alfie offered her a smile. "Didn't work out or something..."

"No, it didn't," she huffed. "So...about James..." she trailed off, waiting for Alfie to step in, but he merely offered her a blank look. "Alfie," she whined, stomping her foot against the floor."

"Don't know 'im. Sorry, love," he waved a hand dismissively.

"Fine," she spun on her heel, storming out of his office. "I'll find out myself."

James was lovely. She had 'bumped' into him when she was leaving, and it hadn't taken him long to offer to take her out for drinks when he finished his shift, which she had accepted with a grateful smile.

He had met her outside of the local pub near the 'bakery', it wasn't a particularly nice establishment, but the lager was cheap, and she supposed he didn't have the money to spend in a fancy club like Jacob had - not with the pittance she was sure Alfie was paying him.

He was funny, and quite respectful in comparison with some of his colleagues. He had asked her questions about her interests, had shared his own, and she was delighted that they seemed to have quite a bit in common.

They had ended the night at her door, with chaste kiss, and another promise to go out again the following week, and she had closed the door with a grin on her face.

"See you at work tomorrow," he had said as he walked away.

When she arrived to work the next morning, the same grin still on her face, she couldn't stop her eyes scanning the floor as she walked to her desk, desperately trying to seek out James, but, when she couldn't find him, she had shrugged it off.

Maybe he was ill or something.

It was now Thursday. Her date with James had been on Monday, and there had been no sign of him ever since.

It was hard not wonder, had something bad happed to him? Had he been hiding every time he saw her walking through the distillery? Had he been so repulsed by her that he had quit his job just to avoid seeing her again?

The thoughts had consumed her all week, and they had affected her mood significantly. Unlike with Jacob, where she had been an angry force at work, she was now forlorn, barely speaking to anybody, and zoning out of conversations with a vacant look on her face.

It was starting to worry her boss, who spent longer than appropriate watching her from his office window.

He had called her into the office that afternoon, watching as she walked seemingly in a daze, her eyes were duller, and he face appeared more sunken.

She didn't say anything when she took a seat at his desk, nor did she meet his eyes when he said her name.

"You alright?" he had asked, his tone more concerned than he wanted it to be.

"Wonderful," she replied, her voice flat, fiddling with a thread on her skirt.

"You've been wandering 'round like a ghost for the past week, love. What's goin' on with ya? Please don't tell me another fucking cat died."

She huffed a laugh that was clearly fake, still fiddling with the thread when she responded. "I think I'm unmarriable, Alfie."

Alfie's shoulder's straightened at her words, leaning his arms on his desk, he studied her face, watching as she blinked away the tears that were beginning to pool in her eyes. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Two men in two weeks, Alfie. I have gone out with two men in two weeks and they have both disappeared...literally disappeared, I haven't seen them since."

Her eyes lifted from her dress to meet his, and Alfie was struck by how sad she looked. He had never thought she would be this upset by a couple of boys not getting back to her after one night.

"That's silly, love," he sighed. "It don't mean nothin'"

"Yeah," she scoffed, "it does."

He considered telling her in that moment, he truly did. A better man would have, would have confessed right then and there.

A better man would have told her that they had cornered Jacob after he had dropped her off at her door. How he had almost certainly broken the young man's nose before he had a chance to blink, how he had had his men hold the boy by the shoulders while he whispered a warning in his ear.

"Stay away from her."

He really should have told her that he had turned up at James' shitty flat on Monday night, waiting for the man to return from his date with her. That his worker's body had began to shake when he saw his boss leaning against his front door, his arms crossed against his chest and a cold look in his eye.

"Have to let you go, son," Alfie had said. "A worker that is more concerned about fucking my secretary isn't one I want workin' with me."

James had begun to splutter a reply, but Alfie was already heading for the stairs.

"Best you stay away from her, yeah?"

It hadn't been a question.

He really should have told her, but he didn't. Instead, he had sighed and rose from his seat, moving into the empty chair beside her.

"You ain't unmarriable, woman," he told her, patting her shoulder. "You just chose two fuckin' idiots."

"Whatever you say, Alfie," she said, standing up and walking out of the office without another word.

He should have confessed, but he didn't. He did, however, promise himself he would not get involved in her personal life anymore. The next man she met, would not have to face a threat from Alfie Solomons.

She had been leaving her home to go to work when she had ran into Elijah on the street. He had chased after her, holding an envelope in his hands, waving it frantically when she finally turned around when she heard the stranger's voice calling after her.

"I think you dropped this," he handed her the envelope, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she took it from his hands.

"Oh, thank you," she laughed. "My boss would have murdered me if I lost it."

He had laughed at her words, not realising she wasn't exactly joking about her boss.

"I'm Elijah," he held out a hand, which she took with a smile.

"He's really nice, Ollie," her words were muffled as they travelled into Alfie's office, and he had to press his ear closer to the door to be able to hear her clearly. "A real gentleman."

'A real gentleman.'

Alfie rolled his eyes, 'gentleman' was just another word for a soft prick.

"We're going out again tonight," she told her friend. "Said he has a surprise for me."

"What do you think it is?" Ollie asked her, and Alfie rolled his eyes again. Ollie was worse than a fucking twelve year old girl.

"I mean we've been seeing each other for a while, he's met my family, I've met his..." she trailed off, and Ollie's gasp was clear as day from where Alfie was standing.

"You think he's going to propose?"

And just like that, Alfie's heart dropped to his stomach. He tore his ear from the wall, storming back to his desk, dropping to the seat with a heavy thud.

Of course Elijah was going to propose, of fucking course. She had been seeing him for the better part of four months, and she spent every waking minute talking about the nice doctor, it was natural that his was how it was going to progress.

He regretted not cornering Elijah on is way to work the moment she had mentioned his name, regretted not giving him the same treatment he gave the two men that came before him. He should have, should have twisted the man's arm behind his back until he was crying like a little girl, should have had his men hold him down while he kicked him in his ribs until blood came out of his mouth, he should have put the barrel of his gun to his head an pulled the trigger.

But to what end?

She was a good girl. She wanted to get married, have a few children and take care of the house while her husband was at work.

Alfie couldn't offer her that.

Everything he could offer her, he already had. He had given her protection, a stable income, and some form of friendship. He could never give her what she truly craved. He knew that, no matter his feelings for her - feelings he didn't understand himself - he couldn't give her the life she deserved.

And that thought made him sick.

The room was too hot for him to sit in any longer. Alfie pushed through the crowd of people, shoving them harder than necessary until he reached the door, the sound of music and laughter fading as the heavy door closed behind him.

He took a seat on a damp wooden bench, his head dropping in his hands.

It had been a lovely ceremony, a bit small, and a bit cheap for his tastes, but she had managed to make it lovely anyways.

He stood when she entered, her parents on either side of her, walking her to the end of the aisle.

She didn't spare Alfie a glance, too busy looking ahead - looking at him. The bitterness twisted in his stomach and it took all the self control he possessed to keep a neutral look on his face.

Elijah met her at the end of the aisle, taking her hand and helping her up the little steps, a sickening smile on his face.

Alfie didn't miss the sympathetic glance Ollie, who was beside him, threw him.

"Not enjoying the party?" her voice was as sweet as anything, full of happiness.

"Weddings ain't really my thing, love," he offered her a smile, it dropping as quickly as it came.

"But this isn't just any wedding, Alfie," she said, taking a seat next to him. "It's mine, you should be happy."

"Why is that?"

"You've finally gotten rid of me," she laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers. "You don't have to pay me to sit around and do nothing all day, should save you a bit of money."

Alfie didn't laugh with her, a bitter smile on his face as he looked down at his hands.

"Oh don't tell me you're sad about me leaving?" her voice held nothing but humour and Alfie wanted to scream at her.

How can you be so blind?

Can't you see I love you?

"Nah, I'm just upset it took this long," he said eventually, rising from his seat, patting her on the shoulder as did. "I'm gonna head out, but congratulations, love. You look very beautiful."

Her eyes softened at his words, her smile widening from where she was sat, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling.

He didn't have time to react when she shot up from her seat, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to her.

"You're the best friend I could have asked for, Alfie," she whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, pulling her arms away from his shoulders and taking a step back. "Fuck off, now. You're missing your own wedding you stupid woman."

She laughed, nodding her head and disappearing back into the building before Alfie could blink, leaving him frozen in place, the bitterness that once consumed him being replaced by what felt like an all-encompassing sadness.

'The best friend I could have asked for."

What a fucking joke that was.

#alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x oc

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cosmic-crybaby · 2 years ago

Text

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 15: 'Alone Tonight'

Warnings In This Chapter: Hinted affair, excessive alcohol consumption, arguing, Thomas really messing things up for himself etc. etc. etc.

Masterlist:

---

The distance between you had only grown with the passing weeks.

The more time had passed, the more Thomas had to work. The more he was gone, the more you realized you had been sleeping alone most nights. You understood how busy he was and how his job and family relied on him to make the right choices, but you were a part of his family too, You wanted to keep reminding him, but you knew it was useless when he couldn't put off business any longer.

It was the the night before Elizabeth's performance, and you had finally caught a moment with him. You didn't want to be a bother as you caught sight of him sorting through endless piles of papers on his desk.

"Thomas..." You meekly called as you stepped through the threshold and into the office. He looked up at you for just a moment. And in the split second, you saw just how overworked he was, slowly being consumed by his work. He acknowledged your presence with a small raise of his brow. His blue eyes lit up behind his glasses. "I didn't want to bother you, but I wanted to remind you that tomorrow is Elizabeth's first performance, and she really wants you to be there," You told him, walking further into the room. By the time he nods at your words, you were already at the front of his desk.

"You could have told Francis to deliver the message to me instead of getting out of bed to tell me yourself...you know you need to rest more now that you're further along," He simply stated.

"I wanted to deliver it to you myself so you know just how important this is,” You stood up straight, making sure it was known to him that you were not to be taken lightly at that moment.

“I’ll surely be there,” He sighed.

“If you can’t make it, tell me now so-” You rambled. Thomas takes a heavy, slightly frustrated sigh.

“(Y/n),”

You shut your mouth as he stated your name. ‘Hm?’ You hummed, raising your brows in acknowledgment.

“I would want nothing more than to be there, I promise I will go,” He calmly stated. You nod once.

“It’s late, please try to come to bed tonight,” You reminded him of the time. By this time he was fully invested with his work again as he just hummed at your request. Without another word you were gone. You read his actions loud and clear before going back to the bedroom, holding on to the railing to help you along the way. You slept alone that night once again.

The next day was a busy one. Your kids were taken to school in the company Bentley as you were off to work. Sitting in the office, doing some last minute paperwork and orders for inventory. Ever since you started seeing Thomas, you and your family were put on the protection list, on behalf of the Peaky Blinders. Thomas even managed to have your bills paid and taken care of. It made you feel uneasy to have your independence taken away, but you wouldn’t emasculate him when you knew he was doing it to not only ensure you were taken care of but to ensure you put all of that money into your own wallet for once. The Peaky boys would often linger around the front and back of the bakery to make sure you weren't in harms way. It's not like you ever were in the first place.

Winter was slowly rolling in and you were preparing hot drinks and baked goods for the customers who just wanted to keep warm during the cold seasons. You even offered to serve hot whiskey cider to the workers who came in at the end of their shifts when the snow really kicked in.

And that was why you were everyone’s favorite baker.

After you had closed up the shop, you were picked up and taken on the trip back to Arrow House. You got yourself and Henry ready for Elizabeth's first big performance at the ballet. Frances was there to help get Henry dressed. You struggled to clasp your earrings on you asked her:

“And where the fuck is Thomas, we’re late!”

Much to your knowledge, he was in his office. The pub was lively that night, but he was sitting like a dead corpse at his desk. Smoking a dull cigarette while staring into the flames of the fireplace. The music and laughter muffled by the thick, wooden doors. The heat filled the room but Thomas was still as cold-hearted as ever. Thomas was a smart man after all, but his weakness had just strutted through the door. Holding an even bigger vice than herself, right in her thin hands. Two crystal glasses and brand new bottle of whiskey.

If his recent days hadn’t been so hectic he would have declined her advances and her offer to share a drink. And maybe he would have remembered the promises he made.

At the theater, the show was just starting. You sat in the second row, your son beside you to your left and an empty seat to your right. You watched in amazement and excitement as you spotted her on stage amongst the other swans. Her small height compared to the taller women giving herself away. She looked so beautiful and grown up it nearly made you cry. She didn’t show any sort of hesitation or insecurity as she hit every step, spin, and leap in tune with the orchestra. But in the back of your mind, you still wondered where Thomas was.

“Why aren’t you out there? Arthurs’ just started singing,” She chuckled as she closed the door behind her, drowning out the loud noise and music.

“Lizzie,” He blinked at her as she sat in the chair across from his desk. The red dress she wore exposed her shoulders and her long arms, the necklace that hung around her neck was shining under the lights.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked, sitting up and putting the cigarette out in the ashtray. Assuming she was inquiring about her job. She shrugs a bit, setting the whiskey and cups on the desk in front of him.

“I just wanted to speak with you,” She reached for one of his cigarettes, and being the gentleman he was, he lit it for her. She continued to speak, but he began to drown her out.

He eyes the alcohol for a moment before clearing his throat and reaching to check his pocket watch. He could have sworn he had somewhere to be, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I didn’t ask you to put anything on my schedule for tonight, did I?” He interrupted. It was unlike him to forget things so easily.

“Um…” She paused to think, but it came up empty and she shook her head. “No, you didn’t tell me anything about tonight. Why, am I keeping you from attending something important?” She asked. His gaze was distant as he slightly shook his head.

“I suppose not, now…what did you want to speak to me about?” He asked. He watches as she stands up to open the bottle and pour him a glass as well as herself. Watching him as he took a small sip, longing for his touch again…missing him deeply. Loathing him for what he did behind her back. But then again, she still wondered…

“Are you happy, Tommy?”

“No…No not always,” He gruffly answered, but his answer was honest nonetheless. But, she already knew that. Everyone already knew that he wasn’t a happy person. After France, after Grace and Charles, after constantly worrying about losing his family. But then, there was you. You helped him little by little to gain that happiness again. To maintain that feeling of being alive.

But that was only temporary when Luca Changretta had his family's names engraved on bullets.

“But there are things in me life that help…still working on those things,” He said. Lizzie nods along.

“What things?”

“Being a good man…a good father,”

She hums.

“Yeah…kind of wished you worked on that when we were together,” She takes a deep inhale of her cigarette. And if Tommy Shelby wasn’t so cold already, her words would have cut him like a knife.

“Why did you do it?” She finally asked after they sat in their silent tension. He set his glass down, looking away from her.

“I wasn’t in love with you,” He told her honestly. She held her stare on him for a moment. Nodding bitterly.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar,” She accused. Tommy chuckled as he leaned back in his office chair with a creak.

“If you really didn’t love me, you would have let me marry John, or fired me after I spoke to your mistress, or wouldn't have given me this fucking job in the first place…so explain that to me, you at least owe me this,” Her eyes were glossy with hot tears. The blinder hesitated before he took one last finishing gulp of the whiskey in his cup.

After the performance, you waited for her in the hall of the theater. She skips to you and Henry, already carrying a bouquet of roses, wearing her boots and a coat over her leotard. Her hair and makeup are still on. She smiled brightly as you opened your arms to engulf her into a hug.

“You did amazing!” You praised her proudly, letting her go as Henry stood beside you.

“I saw you almost tripped,” He teased.

“Shut up,” She nudged him

“Henry that’s-” You started to scold the younger son before you noticed Elizabeth glance around the room.

“Where is Thomas?” She asked, her smile was still on her face but you saw the faintest dismay.

“He really wanted to come, Love but he got stuck at work,” You lied. You had hoped that was the case, but even you weren’t sure. You rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. She stutters.

“That’s okay, can we just go home? I’m starving,” You nodded, your arms over her shoulders as Henry held your other hand, slowly leading them out of the theater and to the car.

At home, you tried your best to hide your disappointment in your fiancé, who still hadn’t shown up. But regardless, the three of you sat at the dining table as the maids served Elizabeth’s favorite dish. Roasted chicken, potatoes, salad, and bread. It was simple compared to the other dishes the kitchen staff make, but it was more than enough for your family. In her opinion, your home-cooked meals were better.

“Did you know dad came tonight?” Elizabeth stated as she picked up her silverware.

“Was he the one who brought the roses?” You asked, desperately wishing you could guzzle some wine to distract you from the growing stress in your chest. The feeling of dread coming and going with every ticking second on the clock.

“Yeah...he sat in the back, he saw me just before you did,”

“That’s nice, darling I’m glad he came,”

‘At least he made an effort, can’t say the same for Thomas,’ You bitterly thought. Your eyes were dark as you stared at your plate. Aggravation causes your appetite to greatly decrease.

“Should we wait for Thomas?” Henry asked. You shook your head.

“Go ahead and eat,” You gave permission as you moved the food around your plate, attempting to at least eat. You, rather aggressively, cut into your chicken as your silverware clanked on the ceramic plates. Your children watched you, giving each other a knowing glance to not ask as they followed and hesitantly began eating. You heard the heavy footsteps of your fiancé walking into the room. “Sorry I’m late,” He apologized as he went around the table, rubbing Elizabeth's shoulder and tussling Henry's hair before he approached you. Henry fixed his hair as he smiled up at him while Elizabeth gave him the silent treatment. He placed a hand on your shoulder before kissing your temple. “Hello, sweetheart,” He whispered. Your lips form into a tight line before you acknowledge him. Your jaw clenched a bit as you refrained from pulling away from his touch. He sat down in his own seat across from you.

“I’ve been trying to reach you for hours,” You stated, a hint of displeasure in your voice as you take a sip of water.

“I was at work,”

“All day?” You quickly shot back.

“Yes, darling I was stuck at work and then I attended a very important family meeting,” His tone slightly changed, exhausted from his long day and the interrogation he had to go through with you. As he got situated, the only noise was your children eating and quietly whispering back and forth.

“Well, Elizabeth did amazing tonight,” You reminded him after clearing your throat, keeping your eyes down on your plate. Thomas formed his lips in a thin line, internally scolding himself. He knew deep down he had forgotten something important. He glances at you but your eyes were elsewhere, the dead and tired look in his eyes showed only a bit of guilt as he looked from you to your daughter.

“Elizabeth,” He called. She only continued to eat, not looking at him when he spoke. “I had a terrible and busy day at work today, but I apologize for not showing up tonight, I was really looking forward to seeing you,”

Elizabeth just glanced at him.

“It’s fine…” She simply said before going back to pushing her food around her plate.

“You know, next time you’re going to be this late, I would at least appreciate a call,” You told him, quietly enough so only he could hear.

“And next time when I have a shit day at work, I would appreciate it if you didn’t badger me the second I walk through the door,” He said in the same volume, but in a more apathetic tone.

Your eyes scanned him, examined him as he just stared at his plate. Your eyes quickly scan your children before turning back to pick up your glass of water.

“Eat some bread for Christ sake,” You hissed your Small Heath accent thicker than he had ever heard. Thomas widened his eyes a bit in disbelief as he started dismissively yet obediently eating the food on his plate.

“Henry, how was your day?” You asked him. He looked up at you and smiled. Thomas' gut sank at the change of pitch in your voice. The sweetness as you spoke to your children was like honey.

“It was good,”

“And your lessons?” You pondered again.

“I’m getting better, Miss Matisse says I might even have a part in the orchestra this year,” You smiled warmly at him.

“I’m glad darling…what about you, Elizabeth?” You turned to her.

“It was fine…just uneventful before the show,” You nod at her words.

“What about you, Thomas?” You asked, sarcasm and accusations seeping from your words.

“It was fine, (Y/n)...How was your day?” He feigned interest.

“Oh, I think you should go first,” You mumbled.

“You can go first,” He scoffed, arguing.

“No,” You set your silverware down with a loud clank and looked at him. Sharply lifting your head to make direct eye contact with him. Your eyes darkened as your tone and demeanor completely changed, it was something he had never seen before. “Tell us, how was your day?” You faked a smile at him as he just stared at you. His eyes are low and dark.

“I said my day was fine…” He said back to you, spitting as much venom as you did. You heavily sigh through your nose. Bringing your water to your lips. As dinner went on, Henry had brought one of his toy cars to the table. Rolling the wheels over his napkins and silverware. The irritating squeaking of the wheels caused everyone at the table to feel vexed, but Elizabeth was the first to snap.

“Will you stop?” Her brows furrowed as she looked at him. He grinned as he stopped momentarily before continuing.

“Stop!” She shouted.

“No,” He argued, sticking his tongue out at her. The two continued to bicker.

“We all want to hear what happened to you today,” You said again. Thomas sat back in his chair, pressing his thumb and index fingers to the bridge of his nose. He pulled his fingers away as he stared at the nearly full plate before him. His mind was practically numb at this point, and the anger began to bubble up with every passing second. The frustration radiated in his head, jaw, and shoulders as he shifted to try to calm himself. The more you questioned him and the louder your children fought made his head ache and his jaw clench. Just then, Elizabeth grabs the toy car and begins to run around the table as Henry chases after her.

“Elizabeth, sit down please,” You sternly, yet tiredly ordered. “Mom, she won’t give it back, make her stop!” Henry complained as she held the toy over his head, just barely out of reach.

“Both of you come sit back down, I won’t ask you again,”

They continued to chase each other and argue as Thomas sat in silence, the pending anger just waiting to be set off. The two children began to yell and whine.

“Mom!”

“Knock it off, let go of me!”

“Stop it, both of you!”

“Stop!” They repeated loudly. Just as you were about to stand, Thomas abruptly stood from his chair, it loudly scraped against the floor as he slammed his hands on the table.

“Shut the fuck up!” With each word he yelled, his hands came down to slam on the table. You covered your ears, startled by the sudden loud noise as Henry and Elizabeth stopped in their tracks, in sudden shock as they stared with wide eyes. The room was suddenly silent. You kept your eyes down at the table and your hands were on your lap. Upset and angry but not sure how to react. Thomas takes a deep breath to calm himself down. Hanging his head low before standing up straight.

“I…I am so sorry, but you really need to listen to your mother, eh?” He asked. Breathing heavily, he takes a cigarette out of his pocket. He didn’t even notice the blood on his hand until he saw the red stain his sleeve, the table, plates, and silverware below. He simply uses one of the napkins to wrap it.

“She asked multiple times to stop, you have to listen to her, she is your mother,” he excuses himself and leaves the room, a trail of smoke follows. You shakily stand up, giving your kids a tight hug, holding them into you tightly as you reassured them that things were going to be okay. You sent them to have a bath as you sat in silence at the table. Holding a hand over your mouth, feeling nauseated and shaken. You stand and slowly walk to Thomas’s side of the table.

“Fuck,”

---

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