#Alfie Solomons x fem!reader

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Day 10 - Alfie Solomons

Alfie Solomons x reader

Prompt: "Shhh, I've got you now, I'm here."

Trigger Warnings: Typical peaky blinders level violence, swearing

Summary: Sabini's men kidnap you in a desperate attempt to get a leg up on your husband. When Alfie finds out, he's ready to burn the world down to get to you.

{Really unsure whether to tag this as Gn! or fem! because on the whole the readers gender is not brought up but the situation is something that i've only really seen done with fem! readers}

The building they were holding you in was dark and damp. You weren't sure how long you'd been stuck lying here, the cold concrete sapping all the warmth from your bones.

Sabini's men had left some time ago, but you swore you could still feel their hands on you. You could already feel the deep ache of the bruises forming at your sides.

How long had it been since the car trailing you on your way home was pulling up beside you? How long since you'd been dragged inside off the empty street? How long would it be until your husband realized what had happened?

Sabini had only shown face for a few minutes. Just long enough for you to learn who had taken you and why. Just long enough for you to give him a black eye.

Then he had angrily thrown you to the wolves that were his men, in the darkness of the warehouse. You had fought there too. Fought and scratched and bit, so that if you weren't leaving without a mark, neither were they.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard tires crunching on gravel. You dragged yourself to sit up, heart pounding. Was it Sabini, back again to continue your torment?

Outside, there was some sort of scuffle, followed by the echo of gunshots, as whoever was on guard barked out frantic orders. The fighting seemed to move closer, and you clamped your hands over your ears, silently wishing you back at home, safe and sound.

When the door of the warehouse slammed open, you flinched, searching desperately for the brave front you had put up in front of Sabini.

When you looked up to find a familiar figure in the door, you nearly let out a sob of relief, stumbling to your feet.

"Treacle!?" Alfies voice boomed out through the warehouse.

"Alf- Alfie-"

Before you could take more than two wobbly steps, he was at your side, catching you up in his arms. You buried your face in his chest, all of your emotions boiling over in great gasping sobs.

Alfie ran a hand over your back, "Shh, i've got you. I'm here, I'm here."

"It was- it was so- he-" You stuttered, taking another shuddering breath.

"They can't hurt you, I've got you, petal. Alfie's got ya," He started to pull away, to look you over, but you clung to him, and he sighed, scooping you up into his arms, "Come on, let's get you home, love."

He carried you out to the waiting car, settling in the backseat with you tucked safely against his side. Later, behind the safety of closed doors, he would check you over for injuries, and nurse you through every one.

[futurefamousdeadmusician]

You Have a Deal

Author's note; Hey all, this is my first run at publishing my writing, hope someone likes it and let me know what you think! I have done some mild PB plot alterations to fit my story better.

Summary; When the Shelby family is under attack from the Changrettas the youngest sibling, Lillian, makes a deal with a distant business partner to ensure the safety of her loved ones.

Content warnings; mild spoilers.

The air of the afternoon was cold this day. Impenetrable grey covered the sky above Birmingham and pressed an awful feeling into Lillian. Her gaze down at the cobblestone, she made her way through the lively Calver Lane until she reached her destination, Solomon’s Mill. She looked up at the building and thought once again of her reasons for coming. No one had known she was here, and she liked it that way. With her family under siege and fair reasoning long gone from the Shelby family, she decided that it was her who needed to devise a plan. A way out. A way through. She moved through the final steps until she reached the door of the old brick building. Built sometime in the 1820’s she could tell Solomon’s Mill was a long standing business on the outskirts of the city. A staple of Birmingham that lasted through the most disheartening economic conditions. Owned and founded by the Solomon’s family after they immigrated to England. Nothing shook this old place; not guns, not violence, not the bloody communists. Always there and always of interest to the Peaky Blinders. They were cordial, if not cooperative at times. Now, Lillian relied on that mutual respect to hold steady when she pushed open the large barn-style doors. 

The air sweeping from the factory carried the sent of the fresh grain being processed through the large, rusted machinery. The shadows of the quick moving men bustling around danced at her feet as she walked through the threshold and made her way to a small room attached to right wood slat wall. Rapping three times on the fragile wooden frame a younger man looked up from his desk and cocked an eyebrow to Lillian. 

“Ye’,” he said quickly, barely parting his lips to speak. 

Slowly, calmly, with the utmost care to appear collected in her appearance, she spoke, “ I’m here to see Mister Solomons.” 

Eyeing her up and down, the nameless man gradually stood from his seat and addressed her more directly than before. He stood not much taller than the young Shelby. Short curls held close to his head and a tattered apron hung off his thin frame. 

“And what’s yer’ order of business?” he questioned. 

“I believe that to be a private matter.” 

He walked around his desk and Lillian did her best not to release the stern eye contact she held on him since her arrival. A lesson from Tommy she knew well, for when you look into the eyes of another man it is much harder to lie; and much harder to kill. 

“Open the purse.” He spoke flatly, unblinking. 

She dropped the small purse defiantly onto the wood-back chair in front of her. She flipped open the small titanium latch and took a small step back to allow the gaunt man his inspection uninterrupted. He drew a pencil from behind his ear and flicked through her things, like they were dirty. Like they were not worthy to be touched by the human hand. Without a word, he looked once again into the dark eyes of the woman before him and peaked over he shoulder into the doorway leading back to the vast factory floor. 

“Come with me,” he ordered in the same flat tone. 

Picking up her bag, Lillian followed him as he walked quickly out into the large room and maneuvered through the men and machines working in impeccable rhythm. She willed herself to keep pace with the small man, heels echoing through the loud space and causing men to turn their heads both in amusement and strict curiosity. Once her escort reached the back most offices of the mill he cracked open the door and spoke softly in a language Lillian did not recognize. After a few exchanges the man stepped to the motioned for Ms. Shelby to enter the small, dark closet. 

There, Mr. Solomons sat at an old oak desk, leaned far back in his seat with the amusement of a child lingering on his bearded face. 

“Ahhh Lillian,” he spoke loudly, “to what do I owe this enormous pleasure.”

“Mr. Solomons.” A brief pause as Lillian sat herself slowly on the chair paced strangely close to the overbearing desk. “There are a few matters I wish to discuss with you and I preferred them to be in person.” 

“Ah sweetheart, and what might that be. Did the new sweets parlor open up just past Harding, is that it?” He bellowed with laughter and Lillians eyes remained engrained in his skull. She always thought back to the words of her older brother in moments of this gravity. 

“Don’t look away from them - the men who wish to kill you - it only gives them time to make that decision.” 

Once the fitful bits of laughs subsided and the ringing from the old slat walls hushed away, Lillian spoke in the same calm tone she had mastered years earlier. 

“I believe I have something you want.” 

Another astonished chucked escaped the burly man. 

“And what would that be?” 

A cold breeze moved through the room. It never occurred to Lillian why men of such power chose to have a room so small to reside in. When her family had the means, they awarded themselves luxury. But Alfie, he hid away in this small closet. Maybe it made himself feel bigger in some way. 

“Brooklyn.” 

“The fuck you mean ‘Brooklyn’,” 

“Brooklyn. New York. Chicago. Shit maybe Boston by the time we are done.” 

The boss moved up farther in his seat. He readjusted his head to the side, believing that he may have heard the young girl wrong. 

“Love, what the fuck are you on about? Did you brother send you.” 

Almost too quickly she responded, “I came on my own accord.” She didn’t like always falling under the wing of her family; Tommy in particular. While the Shelby name came with certain privileges bestowed upon her at birth, she valued her identity. So long she had relied on Thomas to protect the family. Now, with the looming threat of the Italian’s hanging over like a dark cloud, she was on her final idea to pull her family through to safety. 

“Shelby company limited has taken a special interest in the American liquor market. We feel that it would be in your interest, as well as ours, if we cooperated on this matter. Together, we both have much to gain,” she continued, finally regaining her full composer. 

“Ye’ and why would I want business in America? What’s the fuckin’ catch?” Solomons pressed. 

“The Changretta family has made advances against my family. We are now using this opportunity to move into the American market while they are occupied here. This is a quite unique chance to collaborate with our American acquaintance without the influence of the Italians. With your power, as well as ours, I think that we could quite a fitting sum.” For the first time, Lillian broke her gaze away, reaching into her purse to exhume a cigarette before flashing her eyes back to Alfie. He leaned back in his chair, the creak of the old wood breaking the frigid silence. He gaze slowly moved back and forth over the ceiling while his hands rested behind his head. 

“Power,” he began. “Your power and my power,” almost as if he was explaining the concept to a child. “Where is your brother at, Lillian?” 

“He is attending to other business in Bristol.” Lillian, as a principle, didn’t like lying. But, as a Shelby, it came as naturally as breathing. 

“Where is Arthur?”

“Overseeing the tracks.” A puff of smoke escaped from her lips following her statement. 

“Then who in the fuck sent you?” His anger showed. Frustration. Questioning. He was half expecting one of Tommy’s men to appear from behind the doorframe and put a bullet between his eyes, finally revealing this to be an elaborate set up orchestrated by the young woman before him and her devilish relatives. But the bullet never flew and Lillian sat motionless in his chair waiting to respond. 

“I come as a representative of the Shelby Company Limited with a legitimate proposal for enterprise cooperation.” 

“And why should I trust the lot of you? Bunch of gypsy crooks.”

She sat once again, silent, patient, and held his gaze for just a moment to long. Leaning forward, she put the stiff out in a small crystal bowl on the corner of Mr. Solomon’s desk. She retrieved her handbag from her feet and pulled out a small, white envelope. After tossing it lightly on the desk in front of the bearded man she returned to her natural position in the chair, arms crossed, the Shelby, deadpan expression returning to her features. Alfie pulled his spectacles onto the bridge of his nose from the chair laced around his neck. He collected the envelope and carefully took out the ivory card within. A black handprint stained the cover. Mr. Solomons didn’t need to examine the paper any further and flicked up his eyes to meet Lillian’s once again. 

“Every one of us got one.” 

“I see.”

“If the Shelby family dies, your possibilities of every entering the American market get buried with us. Or burned rather…” she trailed on, looking off to the side, examining the bookshelf behind him. “You know, Gypsy things.” 

Alfie released a deeply held sigh and placed the card down back onto the desk with more care than the original owner did. Somewhere, deep down, he held grace for the young woman before him. He recognized that she was a result of her surroundings. Born into the small, violent hole that is Small Heath as a Shelby and since her birth has survived through the forces of her family and her gritty resilience. He new she wanted out. She loved her family, that was her weakness, but she longed to see the hills of the Netherlands and the cathedrals of Austria and the new bustling cities of America. To do this though, she must survive.

“I would need a more formal manner of proposal, numbers and such,” he explained still keeping that condescending tone. But Lillian already began to sit up straighter in anticipation carful not to let this emotion overtake her. “But tentatively, I believe we can work something out.”

A small smirk graced across her lips as she extended her hand. “Very well, Mr. Solomons, I’ll have my associates reach out to your tomorrow.” With that, she was on her feet, quickly remembering to pick up the dreadful letter she had pulled out moments ago. Carful in her movements she walked slowly out of office and shut the door behind her, leaving Alfie sitting in silence, wondering what he had just agreed to. He held much respect for Thomas and therefor placed some onto his younger counterpart. 

Lillian exited the factory and began down the darkening street until she was able to hail an oncoming cab. 

“Watery Lane, please,” she said quietly to the driver who nodded at her instructions. She was eager to meet with Aunt Polly and tell her of her plan of action knowing the elder Shelby would be much more receptive to this idea. Her only fear was Thomas, but that would have to wait. She just hoped that she had done the right thing. 

[caffeineaddictwriter]

Alfie Solomon’s with a baking obsessed wife!

Description: headcannons of Alfie with a reader who has an obsession with baking!

Warnings: bit of sexual touching, f! Reader.

•can easily get used to coming home to a kitchen table stacked with trays of baked goods.

•will always give you money to go buy baking supplies no matter the cost or time.

•will wrap his arms around your waist when your mixing something and slowly inch one of his hands up to your breasts.

•always showing off his baking wife.

•likes to rub it in tommys face whenever they have a meeting, will always have cakes that you’ve baked but won’t let Tommy touch them.

•will always be willing to be a tester for new recipes you come up with.

•once death glared Ollie for a solid week because you gave him a bit of cake first.

•scolds you when you give Cyril some of your baking but in reality he loves seeing the beast content as he eats a bit of your sweet treats.

•is so used to the smell of baking when he comes home that if he doesn’t smell it he goes into panic mode.

•will go all soft mode if you start criticising your own baking.

•if you get the need to bake in the middle of the night you bet your ass he’s joining.

•he’ll drink a cold whiskey as he helps you with whatever you need him to do.

•he gives you some of his mother and grandmothers recipe books and almost cries when you make a dish from them.

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hey! Its literally been like forever but I've had some time to myself and actually written something. This was not requested or anything but I just got inspired with all the new content recently. Anyways, pls enjoy. It's a series so there will be more parts to the story.

Warnings: Sadness, negative thoughts, flirting if you squint (In the future -- smut 😏)

Part 1

(y/n) hadn’t planned on ever coming back.

“I’ll put your tea here then mum. Alright?” (y/n) spoke fairly loudly so the elderly woman could hear. She was nearing eighty and she had lost most of her sight and hearing. She was a ghost nearing on a corpse. But there was no one else to look after her. As these kinds of responsibilities usually fall on the women, the daughters, they fell on (y/n) just the same.  

“I’m heading to work. Mrs. Iona will check in on you from time to time, alright?” The bedroom door was almost closed when she heard the slight mumble coming from the shriveled woman.

“Not supposed to be here. Don’t want her here. Take her away.”

She paused only for a moment suddenly hit with a wave of the past. The tide so strong it almost pulled her into its murky depths. But with the door closed and the sight of her mother taken away (y/n) turned her back and softly made her way out of her mother’s house.

She waved to Mrs. Iona as she shut the front gate and walked back down the street towards the main road. Her shoes already collecting the terrible coal dust.

She hated it here. The heavy air that the sunlight could never quite penetrate which resulted in the town being in a constant gloom. It made her skin crawl. The unhappiness was crippling. The drunkards already stumbling around the street at eleven o’clock in the morning, the starving children running back and forth, the haggard mothers one step closer to the grave and the dark alleys that were haunted with glistening knives, illegal pistols, and razor-sharp caps.

Get me out of here. Get me out of here. (y/n) screamed internally but she only pushed open the heavy wooden door of the newspaper agency and kindly greeted Mrs. Kelley the receptionist before making her way to the back of the building and sitting down at her desk. Another day. More editing. That was her lot in life: never to be the one writing and creating but only a ghost in the machine, a minion behind the scenes.

By the end of every long day at the newspaper house the words would blur into one huge muddle. She’d pack up her small bag, wish a good night to her boss Mr. Beavers, and head home. Her eyes would be sore and her brain throbbing with a headache. But that was just Small Heath, barely living.

(y/n) felt that she had something missing. She knew she had it when she was younger because of all her memories. The vibrancy of the trees she climbed, the scent of baking in the kitchen, the damp fur of their pet dogs after a rain storm. Everything was so vivid back then and full. Her eyes open and wanting, now she was shuttered, fragile, and tired. Her knees often ached and her neck sore from hunching over papers all day. She was decaying, slowly.

“(y/n)!” Her head popped up from her desk at the sound of her name. Polly Gray was making her way towards her. She was as formidable as (y/n) remembered. She rose up to return Polly’s hug.

“Mrs. Gray, It’s so nice to see you!” Polly squeezed a bit tighter. The warmth of her body rubbing off onto (y/n). She welcomed it. It had been so long since she had received any kind of touch.

“When the hell did you get back?”

“About a year now.”

“A year!? A whole year and you didn’t bother to drop me a line?” Her outrage wore the mask of humor but (y/n) could tell there was genuine worry, genuine hurt lurking behind it.

(y/n) shook her head in apology, “I know. I know. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting to come back here and then a lot happened and I’ve just been so busy Mrs. Gray. I’m really sorry.”

“No, I know (y/n). I heard what happened. Awful stuff. I had no idea you were here dealing with it all. You should have asked for help.”

(y/n) began to shake her head and ward off Polly’s offer when her boss’s door opened up behind her.

“Ah, Mrs. Gray and Mr. Shelby do come in.” He gestured warmly into his office.

Polly rubbed her arm before stepping inside.

A tall man had been standing behind Polly. (y/n) hadn’t noticed him in the frenzy of the greeting but she didn’t need an introduction. Nobody in Small Heath did. He was just as the ladies described him at the grocers she went to weekly: cold, inscrutable, foreboding, and dangerous.  

(y/n) had lived in Small Heath only until she had turned thirteen and then her family had moved away. Her father had been close to Polly and consequently (y/n), over the years, had played with the young Shelby brothers. (y/n)’s older brother had gotten along well with Arthur and if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember playing hide and seek with Thomas and John Shelby. But it was all so long ago, and she realized she hadn’t seen any of them in over fifteen years. And yet she knew it was Thomas. She knew.

She wondered mildly if he remembered her, “(y/n) (l/n).” That was all he said with a quick nod he passed her by not glancing back and nor did she.

Polly left first and, on her way, reminded (y/n) to drop by. An hour or so later Thomas came out, as well. (y/n) was neck deep in the upcoming Sunday issue so she barely registered the figure standing next to her desk.

“Oh, Mr. Shelby! Did Mr. Beavers ask me to get you any forms?” She pushed away her paper hurriedly and stood up.

He shook his head slowly and continued to stare at her, hands deep in his pockets.

She tilted her head as a question, and he only shrugged slightly.

“I was trying to remember why you left, all those years ago.”

(y/n) sat back down. A flicker of fear coursed through her at the reminder of their family’s departure. A broken window, her father’s bruised face, and her mother’s hands constantly trembling.

“It wasn’t my decision; it was my parents.” She didn’t look up at him and instead pulled her papers back towards her. She didn’t want to sift through all those years. She could barely make it through the present.

He must have sensed the finality because he bid her good day and left but his stare stayed with her all day and even into the night. The frostiness of the blue. The condemnation they held for humanity.

Mr. Beavers explained the next morning that they were starting a partnership with Shelby Limited. They would be expanding their sports column to include more articles on the races. Mr. Beavers excitedly described the hope for a few informative articles on the intricacies of horse racing, training, and breeding. But it wasn’t just about horses Mr. Beavers went on, being attached to Shelby Limited allowed them an easy avenue for new stories and information. It was a ready-made news source.

“All this in exchange for what?” (y/n) asked.

“We give Mr. Shelby’s races publicity and well…occasionally we would publish or not publish certain articles for the company.”

(y/n) crossed her arms, “So they can censor us? What stops them from completely taking over the paper? What if next week they decide they don’t want the Theatre column? Evan and Nate would be out of the job.”

Mr. Beavers frantically shook his head, “It’s not like that, not like that at all. I know Mrs. Gray and I trust her. The company is not interested in that kind of control. I mean we’re only a small agency, (y/n).”

And thus, the partnership began and now not just (y/n) felt the steely stare of Mr. Shelby, but the entirety of the agency did.

It started slowly but Thomas began to come by once or twice a week. It was usually on Tuesdays and Thursdays. (y/n) learned from Mr. Beavers that they were working on a contract. She would here the tell-tale sound of expensive shoes on the marble floor and know even without looking up who it was. Thomas Shelby walked with such authority in his three piece suits all the young ladies at the agency were already gossiping about him during their lunch breaks. But (y/n) kept her distance.

She had always been an outsider in Small Heath. The community never welcomed her family, something to do with their Jewish ties. And now, after returning, people were even more wary. (y/n) could tell there were whispers behind her back. She ignored the fake apologies about the missing invitation when she caught her colleagues out for a bite to eat all together. It didn’t bother her, not really.

“Mr. Shelby, Mr. Beavers will be right out. His previous meeting’s running a bit late. Please sit down if you’d like.” She gestured to the few arm chairs by the window. He only nodded and sat. He lit his cigarette and did what he always seemed to do around her, stare. And she ignored him in favor of the monumental stack of paperwork in front of her.

“How much do they pay you here?” He asked out of the blue. His deep voice easily cutting through her concentration.

She looked over, “Minimum wage.”

“For all that?” He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

(y/n) shrugged.

“You edit, organize, design, and manage each issue and only get minimum wage?”

“I’m not in a position to be picky, Mr. Shelby.” She bristled a bit.

He took another drag and let the smoke column upwards. He did look beautiful with the sunlight streaming in behind him. It caught the contours of his angular face and she thought yeah, I think I get it now.

He cleared his throat and sat back satisfied her attention was now on him, “Don’t you remember me?”

“Yes. I mean we were just kids.” She shrugged lightly.

“We met on the platform.” He took another inhale of his smoke, “After the war.”

(y/n) blinked.

“Yes, we did.” Her throat had gone dry.

He opened his mouth to continue but “(y/n)! I need the consumer reports.” It was Evelyn from the market section. Her plump red lips perking up at the sight of Thomas. (y/n) had the feeling Evelyn already knew he would be here; the reports weren’t needed until the end of the day.

“Yes. Here they are.” (y/n) sifted through her desk and handed over the packet.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Evelyn asked. She played with a few loose strands of her hair.

“Oh. Uh-Mr. Shelby this is Ms. Lowe. Ms. Lowe, Mr. Shelby from Shelby Limited.”

“Ever so pleased to meet you, sir.” She placed a sneaky hand on her hip and shifted her weight a tad to conform her body into an elegant pose.

And she was attractive (y/n) had to admit. She was young and full of vigor. Her hair always done to perfection and makeup never smudged. She looked like a movie star. She looked like a woman all men would fall head over heels for. (y/n) inwardly cringed. She could only imagine what she must look like next to this creature of beauty.

But when (y/n) looked over to see Thomas’ reaction, he seemingly hadn’t stopped looking at her. Only when their eyes met did Thomas glance over at Evelyn and give a slight nod.

“Mr. Shelby! Please come in, come in! I do apologize about the delay!” Mr. Beavers rushed out and hurriedly greeted the businessman.

After the door closed Evelyn let out a huff. She handed back the packet to (y/n).

“I don’t even need these. I just wanted him to get a look if you know what I mean.”

(y/n) gave a small smile hoping to be rid of the superficial woman but she had one last request.

“Put in a few good words for me, will you? He always comes by your desk. Just drop in a few hints?”

(y/n) sighed and re-organized a few papers, “I’ll try my best Evelyn, but I can’t promise anything.”

A few hours later, Evelyn really did come and collect the consumer reports but lucky for her the office door opened and the two men appeared.

“And wonderful (y/n) here will get the correct form for you to sign Mr. Shelby. Let’s organize a convenient day for her to drop the upcoming issue down at your office weekly.”

Evelyn who was too quick easily swooped in without any hesitation, “I can help, Mr. Beavers. You know that I have a much more open schedule than (y/n). I’d be happy to deliver the issue.” She smiled blindingly.

(y/n) just sat there watching the whole thing unfold. In fact, she was actually grateful Evelyn was sticking her nose into it because she didn’t want to see more of Thomas than she already had these past few weeks.

“That is true, Mr. Beavers. Evelyn has a bit more time on her hands these days.”

The boss was beginning to make the face of agreement before, “I’d like Ms. (l/n) to be the one making the deliveries.”

And there was no room for argument with Mr. Shelby.

“Of course, whatever works best for Mr. Shelby. Let’s say every Thursday?” Mr. Beavers heartily clasped the man’s hand and then beckoned Evelyn into his office for a round up on the recent reports. (y/n) didn’t miss the venomous look the other woman shot her.

(y/n) opened her desk drawer and took out the mentioned form that needed the signature.

“Just here, Mr. Shelby.” She held out a pen for him without bothering to look up. This turned out to be a bad idea because she jumped in surprise as he partially leaned over her to sign the paper. He smelled of oak and whisky. He carried the scent of the past.

She remembered seeing his eyes in the sea of green uniforms on the platform. And she knew. She just knew. After all those years. She had walked towards him. He stood there waiting for her. His beautiful blue eyes. That beautiful face.

“(y/n) (l/n).” He had said her name then with such certainty like it was law. Like it had some kind of divine meaning and not just a jumble of letters.

“Is that all?” He asked setting the pen down.

She cleared her throat, “Yes.”

She expected him to be on his way, but she looked up when she never heard the retreating footsteps. He still stood next to her one hand on the back of her chair. Looking down at her.

“Did you not expect me to remember you?”

She clenched her jaw, “Why would I expect you to remember me?”

He furrowed his brow and walked away.

Part 2

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 16: 'You're No Good For Me'

Warnings In This Chapter: Hinted affair, mentions of blood, manipulation etc etc. ANGST

Masterlist:

---

It took you almost twenty minutes to calm your children down.

Reassuring them that things were going to be okay. But even you yourself were unsure. Giving them a tight hug and a kiss goodnight, making sure to tell Frances to stay with them until they fell asleep, before you entered the bedroom.

You didn't want them to hear the absolute terror you were about to unleash.

Thomas sat on the bed, his jacket discarded and his white shirt somewhat unbuttoned. His hand was still wrapped in the blood-stained cloth from the dining table. You harshly slammed the door behind you, making the room rattle, approaching him and stopping to stand in front of him with your arms crossed.

“You lost your temper with my kids, Thomas…That can never happen again, do you understand?” 

He only nods once before he purses his lips and looks up at you.

“Your kids are out of control,” He stated with raised brows and condescension behind his words. Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

“They’re fuckin’ kids! That is how kids behave when they’re tired, hungry, and disappointed,” You listed. He arched a brow at you. 'Disappointed' he repeated with a bitter laugh.

“I told you I wasn’t ready for this, didn’t I? I warned ya…I fuckin’ warned ya,” He pointed a finger at you with his non-injured hand before he stood up and struggled to unknot his tie with one hand, taking strides to his wardrobe. You stood in your place as you stared at him, bewildered.

“It’s not that hard to ask for help, you could have asked your Aunt or your sister for help, but it’s a little too late to turn back now,” You shook your head in disbelief.

“Yeah, I am sure Aunt Pol would have some great advice on how to discipline your kids for you,” He simply said with a small glance. Perplexed, you screwed your brows together. 

“Don’t you dare,” You seethed.

“What?” He taunted, walking to his wardrobe to put his clothes away. 

“Don’t you dare blame my kids, the only person acting like a child tonight was you!” 

He exhales heavily as he slammed the door to the wardrobe shut before turning to you, the obvious frustration on his face. His normal glacier eyes were dark like the darkest depths of the ocean as he wore a stern look on his face. He approached you, at least a few inches away from your face. Under any other circumstances, he would just be a kiss away. And everything would have been forgotten.

“I’m acting like a child?” Shock laced his question.

“Yes, you are,” You argued. You looked down and reached for his wrist, bringing it up to show him. “You slammed your hands so hard, that you broke a fucking glass and you cut yourself…you threw a tantrum just like a fuckin’ baby,” He jerked his hand away from you. He wasn’t in any pain, his anger numbed it.

“I have made big sacrifices for you…huge fuckin’ sacrifices, I am behind on my work because I spent all my time with you-” 

“And you think I haven’t? I have to commute at least forty minutes back and forth everyday,” You interrupted. 

“And that wouldn't have been a problem if you just took everyone’s advice and hired someone to help you,” He said quietly. 

You took a deep breath before speaking again. 

“You walked into my family…my beautiful family that took years to grow and create, one that you would have started by now if you had any strength, courage, or restraint,” You stepped back from him, glaring at him with disgust. “Esme was right, you’re unstable…I get it…work is hard but that does not give you the right to act the way you do,” 

“And how is that, (Y/n)?” His condescending tone was pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your blood boils with every second. 

“Oh, would you like me to list it off for you, Thomas?” You asked. “Your terrible temper, your unstable mood, your drinking problem, and the fact that I found snow in your office and opium in your nightstand!” You yelled. 

He chuckled.

“Ah, after all this time…I still stand by what I assumed,” 

“Which assumption would that be? Because you’ve made so many,” You laughed. You stood far away from each other. You were by your vanity while he leaned against the bedpost. 

“You pretended to be drunk to get me to fuck you, get you pregent,” 

You both fell silent. The only noises in the room were your heavy breaths and the crackling of the wood in the fireplace as the flames cast an intimidating shadow upon your face. Your chest heaved up and down rapidly as you gulped down the lump in your throat as your hands moved to rub your stomach, protectively as the baby began to move about and kick. 

“Oh God…How could you say that?” You asked yourself as you turned away from him. You held your hand over your mouth to side the sobs as you bent over, one hand leaning on the vanity. Thomas slowly approaches you and attempts to hold you. 

“This is just an obstacle…eh? Listen to me…Listen to me (Y/n), I am sorry I shouldn’t have said that, this was only a setback,” 

You pulled your arms away from his touch. Overwhelmed by everything around you. His smell, his touch, his voice, the hot temperature of the room, the weight of the baby, everything had you wanting to just tear your hair out and scream. 

“No…No this isn’t a setback, Thomas…this is a fuckin’ disaster!” 

“I warned you that the stress of what I do and the stress of this is going to ruin our relationship-” 

“The stress of what?” You asked, turning to him with tears in your eyes. 

“Having a baby together,” He answered. You shook your head. 

“No…Three…” You held up your shaky hand, showing three fingers. “Thomas…Three children!” 

“I didn’t even ask for one!” His voice boomed.

“You act like you’re the only one who fucked up their life,” 

He shook his head before he sat down at your vanity chair, picking up a cigarette to rub it across his lips before lighting it.  

“I guess that’s what happens…” He took a deep breath. “When strangers get drunk and fuck,” he exhales the smoke. 

You paused and swallow thickly. Your eyes scanned him. Until you spotted the red smudge on the collar of his shirt, the red and purple spots on his clavicle. Everything seems so clear now. Your eyes began to tear up as you gasp in doubt.

"I knew it," You muttered as you looked away. Thomas lifted his head to look at you.

"I fucking knew it!" You shouted, picking up a glass perfume bottle and raising it to throw it at him, Thomas quickly leaves the vanity chair and rushes to the washroom, dropping the cigarette as the glass bottle shattered against the hardwood as it merely missed him.

"What the fuck?!" He shouted from behind the door. He could only hear you shouting, crying and the loud crashing of only what he assumed was you breaking the valuables on the vanity. He scrambles to look in the mirror, cursing to himself as he looked at the love-bites and the lipstick that were evidently clear now that he was sober.

"You're a fucking coward Thomas Shelby!" You cried as you leaned against the door.

"It was nothing (y/n), you're overreacting!"

You chuckled sourly. leaving the door to sit on the bed. Thomas cautiously opened the door, looking out into the room, the broken glass of the beauty products were haphazardly spread across the floor. There you sat, tears glistening on your cheekbones as you looked down at the floor.

"(y/n)…please," He held his uninjured hand out as if you were a wild animal. You tsked and roll your eyes at him.

"Oh please, Thomas..." You mumbled.

He threw his hands up, breathing heavily.

"Humor me, Thomas..." You started, slowly standing up. "Who was it?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Stop lying for one second and tell me!" You snapped. He blinks, his body seemed less tense as he conjured up the courage to tell you.

"You know who," He simply stated.

"At least have some courage and say her fuckin' name...you owe me that at least,"

Thomas licks his lips and looks down. Suddenly feeling brave he says her name. It felt like a curse leaving his lips.

"Lizzie Stark,"

You nod bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I’m packing my shit and I’m leaving…tonight,” You told him, turning back around to pack whatever little you had left into a trunk. He watched as you then went into your children's room to wake them up and help them pack a small bag, fetching some maids to help you take them to the car as you threw whatever gifts, dresses, jewelry, other materialistic things he got for you onto the floor. Throwing your coat on as you made your way down the stairs with Frances’s help. Your children, although confused and still tired, sat in the backseat of the company car, knowing this was the last time you would have that kind of luxury. You sat in the middle as they rested their heads on your shoulders and cuddled into your sides. A single tear escaped your eye as the car began to take off down the long entry path. If only Thomas knew of the agony you felt in your heart.

Thomas stood outside, watching in somberness as you left. Without a goodbye and second glance. You and Thomas had argued before, of course but it never got this bad. It was always resolved by the morning, but he feared that this was the last time. 

He wanted to cry, scream, and yell over the fact that he really fucked up his last chance with you. He loved you more than words could say. As the car disappears into the dark distance he retreats back inside. 

"Should I assume she is coming back, sir?" Frances asked. 

"That...I am unsure, Frances..." He shook his head. 

"Please get some rest, Mr. Shelby...have some peace of mind," 

And so he did. He tried at least. He cleaned up most of your mess but as he laid in bed he held the engagement ring between his fingers. You had left it on your vanity before you took off. 

Oh how beautiful it would have looked on your finger when you got married. 

---

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[zkvry]

Head Baker | Billy Kitchen x Fem!Reader

Summary : You meet Billy Kitchen for the first time.

Warnings : cussing, alfie's use of language, brief mentions of sexual themes, sexual tension

Additional Information : > follows events from season 2 of Peaky Blinders (minor spoilers) > written in second person perspective > 379 words | 3 minutes

Author's Note :

I haven't really seen any works done for him and personally, I fancy the man. Please excuse my weak attempt to literate alfie's cockney accent. Let me know if I should do more works on mista kitchen!

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

"Good lad. Fill it up, and fuck off," Alfie huffs as he gestures to the occupational form you were handing out to the men. As they leave, Alfie slouches into his chair sighs deeply.

"Wher' on this fuckin' earth, right? does Thomas fuckin' Shelby get a whole bunch o' blokes to do his biddin' for him?" He complains with furrowed eyebrows.

You look at him amused. Standing right next to him, you cross your arms and lift a brow. "Jealous are we, Alfie?" You tease him.

His head snaps to your direction and blinks furiously, dumbfounded. "What? Lil' 'ol me? jealous of that twink?" His childish retaliation made you burst out in laughter.

Just then, a tall, bulky man - presumably another 'baker' saunters in. Your banter with Alfie cuts short and abrupt as you directed your attention to the stranger.

"Name," Alfie demands.

"Billy Kitchen," He states with confidence. Dominance radiating off him. His stern eyes were unwavering, almost challenging as his eyes looks down at Alfie.

From your point of view, you neck strains a little to meet his gaze. He auburn hair amess hidden under his cap, rough stuble neatly trimmed. His stout built seen clear as day even under his thick coat. Your mouth waters at the thought of those big strong arms holding you down as he thrus-

"Go on then, give the basta'd his papers and apron" Alfie calls to you, proding his elbow to your hip gently.

What? Oh.

You tense up and clear your throat, embarrassed to the bone. Your clammy palms grabbed the papers and apron in a scurry.

His eyes meet yours for the first time, his face still stoic. His gaze was intense. Your arms reach out towards him, handing him the items at hand. He leans closer from the other side of the desk, he takes them from you slowly.

"Thank you, Ms" He says gruffly, nodding his head.

He walks away with his eyes still trained on you. Your lungs burn.

Gasping

You were practically gasping for air from the breath you didn't know you were holding. In the fits of coughing, you hear Alfie's voice again.

"Right, and what in the hell was that?" His eyes wide like saucers, eyebrows halfway up his hairline.

[ryuzakemo128]

Peaky Blinders Headcanons

Pairing: Red x Alfie Solomons

Genre: Fluff

Masterlist: List

Alfie Taking care of Red when she is unwell Headcanons

Red Sick/ unwell Headcanons:

When Red gets sick with the flu, food poisoning, or a simple cold, she experiences some unique symptoms. Despite not being a smoker herself, her cough sounds like that of a heavy smoker. This peculiar symptom has often surprised and amused her friends, who find it ironic given her non-smoking habits. Red's fever also tends to spike quite high, leaving her feeling flushed and overheated. Alfie, being familiar with Red's unique symptoms, often teases her about her "smoker's cough" during her illness, but he also takes care of her and makes sure she has everything she needs to recover.

During the first stages of her illness, Red prefers to stay in either her bedroom or her small office. She doesn't like being idle and enjoys keeping herself busy even when she's unwell. She spends her time catching up on paperwork, organizing business plans, and drinking larger amounts of herbal tea to soothe her symptoms. Alfie, being the attentive partner that he is, checks in on her regularly, bringing her herbal tea and offering assistance with her work if needed.

Despite Red's preference for staying busy while she's ill, she also understands the importance of rest and taking care of herself. She spends most of her time in either her bedroom or her small office, but she makes sure to take breaks and rest when her symptoms become more severe. She drinks plenty of water to stay hydrated and soothe her throat, often adding slices of lemon or ginger to provide some relief. Alfie, being concerned for Red's well-being, reminds her to rest and takes care of any tasks she would normally handle until she recovers.

Although Red is a responsible and diligent businesswoman, she tends to get sick more often than Alfie. Perhaps it's due to her dedication to her work and the stress that comes with it. Despite regular visits to the doctor, she sometimes falls victim to common illnesses. Alfie, who has a more robust immune system, finds it both amusing and concerning that Red gets sick more frequently. He jokes about her susceptibility to illness but also takes on a caretaker role, ensuring she has everything she needs and reminding her to take better care of herself to avoid future illnesses.

As Red's illness progresses, her symptoms worsen, and she becomes more fatigued. She finds it difficult to concentrate on her work and often experiences bouts of dizziness and headaches. Alfie notices these changes and becomes more attentive, taking on a more nurturing role. He encourages Red to take breaks and rest, insisting that she prioritize her health over work.

When Red is feeling under the weather, Galina, her trusted associate, steps in to handle her responsibilities for the day. Galina is familiar with Red's work and can efficiently manage tasks in her absence. She keeps Red updated on any important developments and ensures that everything runs smoothly in her absence. Galina's presence provides Red with peace of mind, knowing that her business is in capable hands while she focuses on recuperating. Alfie appreciates Galina's dedication and willingness to assist, as it allows Red to prioritize her health without worrying about the business suffering in her absence.

Red wears a bed jacket to bed, along with flannel nightgowns underneath and a pair of socks. Like she would when she was still in Russia. Despite her not living in Russia anymore, she still wears a lot of the more traditional Russian clothing, which includes cozy and warm nightwear. She finds comfort in the familiarity of these garments, and they provide her with a sense of home during times of illness. Alfie finds it endearing and often jokes about her "Russian fashion show" before tucking her into bed, ensuring she's snug and comfortable.

To help alleviate Red's symptoms, Alfie prepares various homemade remedies that he learned from his own experiences with illness and from his eclectic knowledge. He creates soothing herbal teas with ingredients like chamomile, mint, and honey to help ease Red's cough and sore throat. He also prepares warm soups and stews, adding spices and herbs known for their healing properties. Alfie takes pride in his culinary skills, and seeing Red's face light up when she tastes his creations brings him joy.

When Red is really unwell:

If Red is really sick and her condition becomes more serious, Alfie becomes even more attentive and concerned. He recognizes the severity of the situation and takes immediate action to ensure she receives proper medical care. He arranges for a doctor to visit their home and monitors Red's symptoms closely. Alfie stays by her side, offering comfort and support throughout her illness.

During Red's more serious illness, Alfie takes on a caretaker role, making sure she is comfortable and well-cared for. He arranges for a cozy spot for her in the living room or bedroom, surrounding her with blankets, pillows, and anything else she may need. He sits beside her, holding her hand or gently stroking her hair, providing a comforting presence during her moments of discomfort. Alfie also keeps track of her medication schedule, ensuring she takes her prescribed medications on time and in the correct dosage.

Alfie communicates with Red's doctor and follows their instructions carefully. He asks questions to clarify any concerns or doubts he may have, making sure he fully understands Red's condition and the necessary steps for her recovery. Alfie takes her temperature regularly, administers any prescribed treatments, and keeps a record of her symptoms to share with the doctor during follow-up appointments.

During Red's serious illness, Alfie takes on the responsibility of managing their business affairs. He temporarily steps into Red's role, attending meetings, making decisions, and handling any urgent matters that arise. Alfie understands the importance of maintaining the stability of their business during Red's absence, and he takes it upon himself to ensure everything continues to run smoothly.

Alfie reaches out to Red's close friends and family members to keep them updated on her condition. He understands the value of their support and wants them to be aware of Red's situation. He provides them with regular updates and reassures them that he is taking good care of her. Alfie appreciates their concern and finds solace in their well-wishes and offers of assistance.

Red Taking care of Alfie when he is unwell Headcanons

When Alfie is unwell:

When Alfie gets sick, Red immediately shifts into caregiver mode. She ensures he has a comfortable space to rest and recover, setting up a cozy spot in their bedroom or living room with blankets, pillows, and his favorite comfort items. Red knows that Alfie tends to be stubborn when it comes to taking care of himself, so she takes charge and makes sure he follows a regimen of rest, hydration, and medication.

Red prepares nourishing meals for Alfie, making sure he gets the nutrients he needs to regain his strength. She prepares his favorite comfort foods, like hearty soups, stews, and warm drinks. Red knows that food can have a soothing effect, and she takes pleasure in watching Alfie enjoy the meals she prepares for him.

Red warns his doctor that Alfie tends to be stubborn when it comes to taking care of himself and emphasizes the severity of his illness. She ensures that Alfie's doctor is aware of any specific symptoms or concerns and asks for clear instructions on how to care for him at home. Red takes note of his medication schedule and sets reminders to ensure that he takes his prescribed medications on time.

Red creates a calm and comforting environment for Alfie to rest and recover. She plays his favorite music softly in the background and dims the lights to create a soothing atmosphere. Red knows that Alfie appreciates a sense of familiarity and security, so she makes sure their home feels like a safe haven during his illness.

 Red would often make traditional Russian foods for Alfie while he was unwell, as she knew his mother is Russian and Jewish.

Red encourages Alfie to rest and relax, reminding him that his health is the priority. She reassures him that she can handle any business matters that may arise and that he should focus on recuperating. Red understands Alfie's tendency to be driven and stubborn, so she gently insists that he takes the time he needs to recover fully.

During Alfie's illness, Red takes on the role of his personal nurse, attending to his needs and providing comfort. She checks on him regularly, ensuring he has everything he needs and offering words of encouragement. Red brings him warm beverages, like herbal tea or honey-infused drinks, to soothe his throat and ease his symptoms. She also keeps a supply of tissues and cough drops nearby, ready to provide relief whenever he needs it.

Red would also make traditional Russian warm drinks to alleviate Alfie's symptoms. She prepares drinks like Elderberry Tincture: Elderberries were used to create a tincture, which is a concentrated herbal extract. Elderberry tincture was believed to have antiviral properties and was used to support the immune system and shorten the duration of colds and flu.

During Alfie's illness, Red takes care of their pets, making sure they are fed, walked, and given attention. She knows that Alfie loves their furry companions dearly, and she wants to ensure they are well-cared for during his absence. Red often brings their pets to visit Alfie in bed, providing him with some extra comfort and companionship.

Red showers Alfie with affection and love during his illness. She holds his hand, cuddles up next to him, and whispers soothing words of comfort. Red understands that physical touch and emotional support can have a healing effect, and she wants to make sure Alfie feels loved and cared for throughout his recovery.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Hey 😊 if your still taking requests for the peakys. Could I please ask for Alfie Solomons with A "ask me to stay" and D "dark secret" female reader. Thanks 💗💗

A/n: that's a wrap on Peaky Blinders requests from June!!! thx to all the lovelies who participated <3

The Wall Between Them - Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2362 Content warnings: Domestic violence, reader murders the abuser, abuse, violence, blood/gore, protective Alfie, can't-be-vulnerable Alfie, trying-his-best Alfie, hints of soft!Alfie?

Her hands shook so violently it was a wonder she didn’t drop the pistol. If anyone had been watching the scene before them, they would have credited a guardian angel for guiding the bullet straight to his chest despite the treacherous wobble of the gun. Her eyes were closed when she pulled the trigger, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the blood from her mouth. 

He fell like a sack of bricks. One minute he was lunging towards her, eyes trained on the pistol. A cold fear seized his heart as he saw the terror in her gaze melt away to black rage. All those whiskey beatings, harsh words and hateful years had backfired on him. Then, in the next instant, he died to the ear-splitting sound of a gunshot. 

The silence that followed was so loud she swore it would crush her. The walls around her seemed to be holding their breath. Was he really dead? Did she really pull the trigger? 

She didn’t let herself exhale until she saw a pool of blood - darker than she’d imagined it would be - staining the floorboards underneath him. She dropped the pistol; it landed with a heavy thud at her feet moments before her knees folded on themselves as if made of twigs. She pitched sideways, letting the hallway wall brace her fall as she deflated under the weight of realization. She knew in that moment that it didn’t matter how many times he’d hit her. The ghastly bruises and scars he’d left etched in her skin, the nights her mind had divorced itself from her battered body and wandered the halls like a ghost, the mangled monster he’d grown into… none of it mattered. All that others would see was a dead husband and a living wife with motive, means, and a guilty conscience. Even dead, that horrid man was imprisoning her.

She knew there was only one person who could get her out of this. And so, she wiped the blood from her rapidly swelling lip, picked up the pistol and slipped it into the deep pocket of her apron, and tied up the escaped strands of hair. It had been almost seven years since she’d seen Alfie Solomons, but she still knew exactly where to find him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Boss, there’s a lady here to see you.” 

Alfie barely heard Jack’s murmured comment above the jeer of the crowd. The Irishman was swaying unsteadily on his feet in the pen after taking a nasty round of hits to his right ear. Alfie could see his ear filling with blood. A busted eardrum, likely. Circling opposite him, the burly Hungarian Alfie knew as The Red Devil was snarling proudly as he surveyed his quarry. 

“Fuckin’ finish him!” Alfie called out, lifting a wad of bills in the air like a signal fire. The fight was fixed of course, and Alfie had fixed it. The Red Devil was turning into quite a lucrative investment, but his penchant for theatrics was tiring to Alfie. He preferred a quick win, efficient and clean. 

“Boss?” Jack edged slightly closer, waiting for Alfie’s orders.

“Hm?”

“A lady, boss. There’s a lady here to see you. Asked for you by name.”

“Didn’t book a whore tonight,” Alfie replied simply, waving Jack off as The Red Devil moved in on the Irishman, holding the dazed man’s head as he drove his knee up into the exposed forehead until the bell rang to signal the end of the fight. The crowd erupted into a mix of appreciative cheers, boos, and cries to settle up or place new bets as another pair of fighters moved to the edge of the pen. 

“Don’t think she’s a whore, boss. Looks like a respectable lady. Bit beat up though.” 

Alfie fixed Jack with an incredulous stare. He wasn’t accustomed to his men pressing him on trivial issues like this. Especially not on a fight night. Jack flinched imperceptibly; he was well-acquainted with Alfie’s anger and bore a nasty half-moon scar the framed his left eye from being pistol-whipped after pressing Alfie’s limits. Alfie almost moved to strike him, until something about Jack’s words and the odd look in his eyes plucked at something. 

“She give a name?”

Jack shook his head, eyes glued to the ground. “No. All she said was you were ol’ friends. Childhood friends, I think she said.”

It couldn’t be. Alfie shook his head as if trying to shake out the thought. But, then again, there was only one person he’d ever met who’d claim him as a friend. 

“Beat up, you say?”

Jack nodded. “Lip’s split and she got a shiner.”

A memory flickered across Alfie’s mind. He hadn’t seen her in years, but the last time he had, she’d had a ring of purple and green bruises around her neck. She’d tried to hide it under a high collar dress, but Alfie had her pressed up against the wall of his office, their lips devouring each other, and he hadn’t missed the way she winced when he let his hand slide down the side of her neck on its way to undo the line of buttons at the front of her dress. He knew who’d done it and didn’t need her to say a damn thing. If she hadn’t begged him on her knees - her goddamn knees - to spare that pathetic man’s life, Alfie Solomons would have gutted him nice and slow. 

He hadn’t seen her since. She’d stopped writing, stopped answering her own front door, stopped going to the butcher shop below where Alfie kept a small apartment. He’d had her on every surface of that apartment, rabid with hunger for anything she’d give him. Then she’d just vanished. Told him she was due to be married, couldn’t carry on with him anymore. Alfie knew there’d been a silent request buried in her words. He’d heard her ask it with her eyes. Ask me to marry you, and I’ll leave him. Alfie cursed himself every day for letting that moment slip by like water on rocks. He wasn’t any closer to figuring out how to love someone now then he was back then, but in his quiet moments he wondered if maybe he could have figured it out with her, if only he’d been willing to take that chance.

“Boss? Boss, what do you want me to tell ‘er?” 

The sound of the bell announcing the start of another match jarred Alfie loose from his reminiscences. 

“Nothin’. I’ll talk to ‘er.”

Jack eyed him with surprise, but quickly smoothed the spark of interest out of his features rather than risk another scar from his mercurial boss. He’d never known Alfie Solomons to pause his dealings for a woman. Something about her must have been special. Jack followed his boss out of the smoky, cacophonous warehouse and towards the back of the building where Alfie kept his offices. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alfie felt his fingers dig into the wood of his desk as she stepped out of the shadowy corner of his office and into the soft halo glow of his desk lamp. Her lip was split, blood dried on her chin, and one of her luminous eyes was swollen shut. Murder ripped through Alfie’s blood at the sight of her. 

“Before you say anything, Alfie, he’s dead.”

Her voice sounded different, thin and strained, like someone had scooped out her soul leaving nothing but an echo behind.

“He sure fuckin’ is.” Alfie was shaking he was so bloodthirsty. He couldn’t look at her and risk losing himself. How could it still be so fresh, he wondered, after seven long years?

“No, that’s not what I meant… Alfie, I-, I killed him. I shot him.”

A different man might have been horrified, or maybe even a little impressed. Alfie was none of that. Instead, he felt himself pitch forward over the lip of a hole of despair. 

His voice cracked when he ordered Jack and the rest of the boys out of the office. Once the door closed behind them, she sank down into one of the leather-backed chairs across the desk from him. Desperate to be close to her lest she splinter to pieces, Alfie rounded the desk to perch against its edge, stretching his long legs away from her in an attempt to give her space. She hardly looked up at him. 

“What did he fuckin’ do to you?” Barely more than a whisper. Alfie was glad the light was too dim for her to see that he was treacherously close to tears.

She looked up at him, shocked. Her one good eye gleamed at him. 

“Alfie, did you hear me? I killed him.”

He nodded, swallowing thickly. Alfie was full of tender urges and gentle feelings, but his mouth couldn’t seem to give them words or noise. All he knew was harshness and violence. It was the same wall that had kept him from reaching out for her hand and telling her all the things he felt the last night he’d seen her. Here he was, so close he could smell her lavender soap but his affection locked away so tightly and deeply that he couldn’t force himself to touch it even if he tried.

“Nothin’ he didn’t deserve,” he grunted brusquely after a few moments. He dropped his gaze, unable to tolerate the sight of her face bruised and misshapen. He noticed her hands were trembling in her lap. “What do you need, darlin’?”

She stifled a small sob at the sound of the pet name he’d reserved for her. 

“He’s still-... the body, I- I don’t know… I guess-”

“It’s done. Write down your address.” Alfie handed her a pen and paper, watched as she struggled to mark the street name and number legibly. Her knuckles were bruised, he noted with a twisted pang of pride and pain. She’d been fighting back, he realized. All alone these last seven years. And he’d let her. He’d stopped fighting to get to her. Let her close herself off to him. Let himself close off to her. And now, it wasn’t until she’d been pushed to the brink - maybe past it - that she’d come to him, and only because she knew that when violence and darkness was needed, Alfie could do it. But he couldn’t do the other things, the harder things. Like love her, protect her, tirelessly fight for her. 

She tore off the page and handed it to Alfie. He took it without looking at the writing, strode over the door and excused himself from the office. He thrust the paper into Jack’s hands. 

“Take care of it, Jackie. No loose ends, you hear me? I’ll fuckin’ rip you limb from limb if it ain’t done right.” 

He didn’t give Jack or the others time to argue or ask questions before he slammed the door as a dismissal and strode back to her. He reached for her, needing to feel her warmth under his fingertips just to prove she was here. She flinched instinctively, sending Alfie deeper into self-loathing.

“Do they know-”

“It’s done, darlin’. It’s taken care of.” 

Alfie poured himself a glass of whiskey, drunk it down in one gulp, and poured another. 

“Alfie…” 

Her voice was so soft and yearning it broke Alfie in two. He turned to face her. Gods she looked perfect. 

“It ain’t fuckin’ happenin’ again.” The most solemn promise he’d ever made. 

She recoiled from him as if slapped. It took him a half moment to process why. 

“I ain’t lettin’ anyone hurt you. Ever again, you hear me? I’ll fuckin’ burn the world and every hateful man with it, it don’t matter.” It was all Alfie could find the words to say. 

Finally understanding his meaning, he watched her relax in the chair. She eyed him without saying a thing, a strange expression on her face. 

“I don’t want that, Alfie,” she replied softly. “I don’t want any more death. I don’t want to see someone hurt ever again. I just… I just want…” 

Her words trailed off into the quiet. Neither of them knew where the end of that sentence would lead. The space between them stretched and morphed until it felt like an ocean separating them. Strange, that two people who both wanted so desperately to be with each other could feel so far away.

“Don’t set any fires on my account, Alfie.” She rose from her chair and walked towards him, taking the glass out of Alfie’s hand and downing the whiskey with a wince. “Just ask me to stay.” 

Alfie felt his heart run headlong into that same old wall that always kept them apart. Here she was, the only woman who’d ever mattered, literally giving him the words she wanted to hear. And all that Alfie’s tongue wanted to say was more promises of vengeance, of violence in her name, of destruction. 

She watched him struggle, her gaze even but tired. 

“Ask me to stay, Alfie. That’s all I need.”

The openness those words threatened to expose in Alfie Solomons felt like a lit bomb nestled in the cage of his ribs. He choked on the air in his lungs. Come on, you fucker, he thought viciously as he struggled to press back on the urge to run. 

She watched and waited. Each moment, her shoulders sagged a bit more.

“Stay.”

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, and Alfie spat the word out as if it had poison between its letters. But was it close enough? 

Her heart thought so. She felt a softness take root there, a shred of hope. 

Yes, it was enough. 

She gave Alfie Solomons a soft smile. The way he crumbled at the sight told her enough about his feelings for her. Even if he couldn’t put them into words, she could see the love that she was so desperate to excavate from wherever he stored away the fragile parts of himself.

“That’s enough,” she told him sweetly, lifting a hand to cradle the side of his face. For the first time in seven years, she let herself relax into a man’s touch as Alfie’s fingers found hers…

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰

Thomas Shelby as a Father

Tommy x Fem!Reader

Trope: Wait till your father gets home Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.

What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.

We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.

Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.

When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.

Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.

That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.

He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.

Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.

His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.

The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.

All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...

Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.

They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.

Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.

Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.

[teddy06writes]

Much Ado About Nothing

Alfie Solomons x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking,

Premise: It's a Much Ado About Nothing AU, with Alfie as Benedick and Reader as Beatrice

Useful links: click here for a plot summary of the play, here for access to a version w/David Tennant and Katherine Tate, here for a proshot of a production at the Globe, and here for a wonderful video essay that discusses the plot and has a very insightful tangent about Judaism in Shakespeare.

{I've got a lot going on right now what with the production I'm in being in tech, plus even if I'm doing a simplified version of this, it's still quite a bit of work to go through the script bit by bit, I've decided that I'm going to just release the bit that I have done, and then if people really want more I'll do it in parts}

{Most dialogue is either directly quoted or paraphrased directly from the original text}

It was a beautiful day in the seaside town of Margate, and for the first time in years, you and your family were finally able to enjoy it. The war had been over for months, and with the arrival of spring, it felt like the world was finally alive again.

You were out lounging on the veranda with your cousin Esme, and her friend Ada, enjoying the fresh air when you heard footsteps coming down the gravel driveway. Esme sat up, in her deck chair, "Are we expecting company?"

"I didn't think so." You frowned.

Ada was already at the railing, peering around to try and make out who it was, "I don't recognize him- but he is wearing an army uniform!"

Esme let out a squeal, all but jumping up out of her chair and rushing over to look over Ada's shoulder. You let out a groan, reaching for your drink.

It only took a few moments for your uncle, Johnny Dogs to come bursting out onto the veranda, a letter in hand, and followed closely by Polly and the messenger Ada had seen, "I've learned, in this letter, that Tommy Shelby and his unit are coming to Margate, this very night!"

Esme let out another squeal, quickly chattering away to Ada, filling her in on the events of the Unit's last stop in Margate just before the war.

"He was very near by this," The messenger offered, "They were just getting into town when I left them."

Johnny Dogs nodded, "And how many gentlemen did you lose in this- action?"

"Our unit seems to oppose the rest of the war: we lost few of sort and none of name." The messenger said proudly. This prompted another little burst of excitement from Esme.

"A victory is twice itself when the achievers return home in full number."

Johnny aimed a pointed look at her, reading a bit more from the letter, "It says here, that Tommy has bestowed much honor on his younger brother John."

You chuckled as Esme went bright red, practically glaring back across the veranda with the look of someone caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by the Sergeant Major. He bore himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion. He has indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect me to tell you." The messenger excepted the drink offered to him.

You pulled yourself up out of your chair, "I pray you, has signor Mountanto returned from the war, or no?"

The messenger turned to you with a frown, "I know none by that name, Lady."

"My cousin means that Captain Solomons from Camden town." Esme spoke up, glad the attention was finally gone from her and her crush.

"Oh, he's returned and as pleasant as ever."

You let off a scoff, "I pray you, how many has he killed and eaten in this war? How many has he killed, for I have sworn to eat all his killing."

"Niece, you tax Mr. Solomons too much." Johnny Dogs scolded.

Polly chuckled from where she'd taken up your empty chair, "But he'll meet with you, I have no doubt."

The messenger still focused on you, "He has done good service in the war, lady."

You raised an eyebrow, "You had stale food, and he helped you eat it. He's a very brave eater. He has good stomach for it."

"And a good soldier, too, Lady."

"And a good soldier to a lady," You shot back, "But what is he too a lord?"

"A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honorable virtues."

"It is so indeed," You nodded, punctuating your words with a sip from your drink, "He is no less than a stuffed man. but for the stuffing- well, we are all mortal."

"You must not mistake my niece, sir," Johnny Dogs interrupted, quickly explaining, "There is a kind of merry war between Mr. Solomons and her: they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them."

You groaned, "He learns nothing by that!"

"It's true enough." Ada teased.

You crossed to the rail of the veranda, leaning back against it, "In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now the whole man is governed with one. So that if he have wit enough to keep him warm, it marks the difference between he and his horse. It is all the wealth he has left, to be known for a reasonable creature."

The messenger let out a laugh, "Truly?"

"Aye," You nodded, "Tell me, who is his companion now? He has a new sworn brother each month."

"Is it possible?"

"Very easily possible, he wears his faith like the fashion of his hat- it always changes with the next block."

"I see, Lady. The gentlemen is not in your books." The messenger nodded as if he finally understood.

"No, and if he were I would burn the whole library." You nodded in a agreement, "But truly, who is his companion? Is there no young man who make voyage to the devil with him?"

"He's mostly in the company of the younger Shelby brother: John." And as he gestured back toward Esme, who blushed again, you had to hand it to the messenger: he was a quick learner.

"Oh lord," You groaned, "He will hang upon him like a disease. Alife is sooner caught than the pestilence and the taker always runs mad. God help young John, if he has caught the Solomons it will cost him much to be cured of it."

The messenger chuckled, "I will hold friends with you lady."

You grinned, reaching out to clink your glass to his, "Do, good friend."

"And you'll never run mad niece?" Your uncle asked.

"No, not till a hot january." You quipped.

Before anyone else could retort, the sound of gravel crunch under tires filled the air, and Johnny Dogs was leading the way off the veranda and around the side of the house to meet the new guests.

There in the driveway, your little party was met with the grimmer one of Mr. Shelby. Thomas himself was leading the way towards the house from the cars, flanked by the others as he called, "Johnny Dogs, you've come to meet your trouble. You know the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, yet you encounter it."

Johnny Dogs let out a barking laugh, "Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of you and your good men. For trouble being gone, comfort remains and when you leave- sorrow abides and happiness leaves with you."

"You brace your charge too willingly." Still, Tommy allowed himself to be dragged into his hug. When they seperated, Tommy caught sight of the rest of the party, "Ah, then this your daughter, Esme."

"Her mother has many times told me so."

Finally disentangling himself from the ruckus being made by the soldiers now that they were out of Tommy's orders, Alfie appear at his side, "Were you in doubt sir, that you asked her?"

"Ah, Mr. Solomons, no, for then you were only a child." Johnny said, slapping him on the back.

"You have it full Alfie, and we can tell what kind of man you are for it," Tommy, turned making his way back to Esme, "Surely the lady fathers herself. Be happy lady, for you are like an honorable father."

"If Johnny Dogs be her father, then she would not have his head on her shoulders for all of Margate!" Alfie laughed, but the group had already moved away, as Tommy caught up with the rest of the household.

From where you had found a perch against the side of the house you sighed, "It's a wonder you will still be talking, Alfie. Nobody marks you."

"What-" Alfie slowly turned on his heel, taking in the sight of you, lounging in the sun, "My dear Lady Disdain- are you yet living?"

You smirked, raising your glass towards him mockingly, "Is it possible disdain should die when she has such food to feed on as Alfie Solomons? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."

"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But, it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepting," He wagged a finger in your direction, "and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart- for truly, I love none."

"A dear happiness to women!" You cheered, pushing off the wall to stalk closer to him. "They would else have been troubled by a horrid suitor. I thank god and my cold blood that I am of your humor for that, I would rather hear a dog bark at a crow than a man swear that he loves me."

Alfie barked out a laugh, pointing a finger your direction, "God keep your ladyship in that frame of mind! So some gentleman or other can escape a scratched face!"

"Scratching could not make it worse, if it were such a face as yours."

"Well, you are a rare parrot teacher!" Alfie scoffed.

Your face suddenly felt hot, and you scrambled to retort, "Well better a bird of my tongue than a beast of yours!"

"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so a good continuer. But keep your way, in god's name, I am done." He all but waved you away, turning to follow as the rest of the company began to make their way into the house.

You sat for a long moment, watching him disappear, before shaking your head and making your way back around towards the veranda, muttering, "You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old."

[ceirinen]

December 2023

I decided to make a list of every fic I read each month.

I would like to interact more, but life has been complicated recently and when it comes to interacting, I get very anxious which is something I'm trying to overcome.

So, here I made this to appreciate such amazing writers and stories that inspire me and others everyday. To the authors, I want to thank them for their dedication and time spent on writing to offer us fascinating stories.

I totally recommend their work.

(If you are in this list and you don't want to, please let me know so I can fix it).

@cillianmesoftlyyy

So New | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader Method Acting | young!Cillian Murphy x Reader

@runnning-outof-time

Research | Tommy Shelby x Reader Bedtime Stories | Tommy Shelby x Reader & Daughter

@zablife

teacher!Luca Changretta x Reader Funeral | Tommy Shelby x sister!reader A Visit to the Peaky Blinders Set | Cillian Murphy x wife!reader

@gypsy-girl-08

Festive Spirit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader All I Need... | modern!Thomas Shelby x Reader A Gentle Warning | Thomas Shelby x wife!Reader

@pacifymebby

Arthur Shelby x Reader

@fkmarrycill

Pre-Gaming | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@holacia3

Lost and Lucky | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader Surprise visit | modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

@beastofburdenxo

Let Me Praise You | Tommy Shelby x Reader Raising Catherine | Tommy Shelby x Reader

@look-at-the-soul

If I let you go | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@your-nanas-house

What does my princess want? | sugar daddy!Cillian Murphy x sugar baby!reader I'm pretty sure you're mine | sub!William Killick x dom!fem!Reader What are we, idiot? | Neil Lewis x best friend!Reader Thirsty | Tommy Shelby x secretary!Reader

@raincoffeeandfandoms

To the end of the world | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Tommy, the teddy bear | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Emergency surgery | baby!Tommy Shelby Fanfiction | Alfie Solomons x fem!oc Anon | Alfie Solomons

@lis-likes-fics

Loner | Edward Cullen x Reader At the End of the Day | Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader

@rafeology

Mentor!Finnick Odair x victor!reader

@wife-of-all-dilfs

Flower Therapy | Finnick Odair x Reader

@darlingsfandom

Cillian Murphy x Reader Tommy Shelby x artist!reader Soft sugar daddy | Robert Fischer x Reader

@pinguwrites

Home Is Where the Heart Is | William Killick x future!reader

@http-finnick

Skin to skin | Finnick Odair x fem!insomniac!reader

@acewritesfics

Lost Love | Tommy Shelby x Reader 36 Minutes | modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

@dearshelby

Had you first | Tommy Shelby x Reader Little Tommy | Thomas Shelby x oc

@lau219

Red Carpet | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@peakyswritings

I Do Bad Things | demon!Tommy x Reader

@shelbystales

Ceramic Lessons | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@darthannie

Day eighteen: breeding kink with Lenny Miller | Lenny Miller x f!Reader

@hllywdwhre

Afterglow | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@red-write-hand

I'll be home for Christmas | Thomas Shelby x Reader

@mysaintkitten

Bad Behaviour | Mike Kiernan x fem!Reader

@notyour-valentine

The Spirits that I summoned | young!Tommy Shelby

@brummiereader

No Son Of Mine | Tommy Shelby

@youbyradiohead

Strawberry Syrup | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillianthinker

British accent | Cillian Murphy x Reader Young and in love | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillspropertea

Coming home | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillmequick

Operation Christmas Tree | modern!Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Mooooo ! I love you so much bby 💕 my I request one with Alfie with the touch starved prompts “you never have to earn my affection-not now, not ever” and “I’m never more at peace than when I’m in yours arms”? Thank you lovely❤️❤️

My baby girl!!!!!!! Ugh thank you so much for sending this in. Did my heart ache writing this? Yes. Did my stomach hurt? Also yes. Am I sorry for it? NO. WE DO NOT APOLOGIZE FOR EMO HOURS IN THIS HOUSE. Hehehe Anyway I love ya so much I hope you enjoyyyyyy.

100 Follower Celebration: Your Love is Enough

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

There were many perks that came with being Alfie's woman. While there was certainly a good deal of danger lurking around, there was an undeniable air of safety you had due to all the eyes watching. You got access to all the hot goings on around the city. You lived comfortably. And above all, you got to love Alfie Solomons fully and purely and unabashed. There was only one downside really... the talk.

It was no secret that you were significantly younger than Alfie. It was something you and Alfie never shied away from and didn't feel a need to. Regardless of any age difference, you and Alfie understood each other on a cosmic level, a way no one else could. You loved him with your whole heart and soul and Alfie would burn down the world if you asked him to. You were one. And anyone who truly knew you and Alfie knew that this was true love. That this was the type of love and devotion that epics were written about and empires crumbled over. But there were always going to be people who didn't know. Always going to be people who didn't understand.

You were perusing fabric patterns in the shop down the street one early afternoon, looking for the final pattern to add to a quilt you were making for Ollie's soon to be born first child. You delicately touched the cotton blends along an aisle, imagining how it would look along the squares you had already picked, taking mental note as to what was available.

"I just cannot imagine what he sees in her. I mean... she is a child isn't she?"

Your ears perked up to the tone. It was Mrs. Vorsed from down the corner, the one you waved to every morning without even a smile in return. Another voice responded, "You know how men are. They just want a little toy to play house with until they find a wife."

Who on earth could they be talking about?

"Mr. Solomons needs a real woman in his home. My Portia knows what it means to be a lady of the house, and knows her place. I mean that girl he is shacked up with... I can hear her shouts and laughter from down the street! What does she know about keeping a home, much less keeping a man?"

A snicker erupts, "Well I'm sure she won't last long. He'll tire of her eventually when he realizes what he truly needs. Then Portia can swoop right in!"

The cackles fade away with the sharp chops of heavy footed steps. Despite your efforts, the knot in your throat never went down. You lungs refused to take in breath as the words spun in your mind. How could they say those things so confidently? They didn't even know you. They never even stepped foot into the house, how could they know how you keep it? Alfie never said more than a good morning to Mrs. Vorsed. How could they know anything about you or Alfie? Yet their words kept spinning and spooling around in your mind. What if... what if they were right?? What if people saw something that you couldn't see? What if you had deluded yourself into thinking that Alfie was truly happy and in love with you? What if he was unhappy but didn't want to tell you out of duty. It all became too much in your chest, and you left the store without your fabric, but the weight of the world on your chest.

That evening Alfie could not wait to get home to you. Every evening Alfie nearly buzzed at the prospect of coming home to see your face again, and wrap himself around you, getting as close as possible. You made his day better. You made his life brighter and joyful and meaningful. It made all the business and badness worth it. Stepping through the threshold with a press to the mezuzah, Alfie calls out, "Sweet girl! I'm home! You in the kitchen darling?"

He hears you call back and smiles wide, stomach growling hungry for supper and you. Taking off his coat and hat he ambles into the kitchen, watching you stir something magical in the massive soup pot. "My dove ,my angel, my joy, what are you doing? Making food for the Royal Navy are we?"

You turn to him, and he can clearly see that something is wrong. Your lips are quivering and poorly attempting to portray a smile, and your eyes are glassy and red rimmed. He feels a stab in his chest, "Now wait a minute treacle... what's got you crying?"

You wiped your cheek and turned away, "I'm not crying."

With a scoff he grabs your chin gently, turning you to face him, "I thought we didn't lie to each other my sweet. Especially since you're the worst liar since the Garden of Eden. Why are you crying? Come on now confess."

You shrugged as Alfie's hands moved up and down your arms, "It's nothing. Stupid really I shouldn't be crying."

"Nah nah. It ain't stupid if it's got my sweet girl crying like that. Out with it."

The tears kept falling, though you tried to keep an even tone, "I just... I heard some women talking. Mrs. Vorsed and another lady."

Alfie rolled his eyes, "Always a bad sign. C'mon what else."

You sniffled, "And... well... they said that... I wasn't good enough for you. That I didn't know how to be a good woman to you. And that you would be better off with someone else. That you would soon grow tired of me. That I'm not deserving of you, and Portia Vorsed would be a better match for you."

The tears started coming harder, and you couldn't help the shaking of your body. Alfie's stomach dropped, and rage replaced it. Alfie shook your shoulders a bit in his passion, "What the fuck is wrong with them? Treacle, Mrs. Vorsed is the worst gossip in Camden, and doesn't know anything about anything. She hasn't got anything better to do but talk absolute shit. Portia, right? She is the silliest woman in town, she can't even do basic arithmetic because she's too busy being an idiot. I mean fuck me treacle I can barely say good morning to Mrs. Vorsed without getting proper fucking agitated!"

Alfie kissed your forehead and brought you to his chest, "YOU are the one for me. I don't give a shit what Mrs. Vorsed or what any other decrepit woman or idiot man thinks. You are my life. You are my stars and my moon and my sun alright? You don't have to be 'good enough' for me. Fuck you just are. You never have to earn my love. You've always had it. Even before I knew you my old and brittle heart was yours. You got that?"

You nodded, the tears pooling in his shirt. Alfie pulled you away from him to look into your eyes. "And treacle I don't even think Mrs. Vorsed can see more than a meter in front of her so she probably has no clue who she is talking about."

You laughed despite the tears and Alfie grinned. All he wanted to do every day was to make you smile. He was convinced that was what he was put on this earth to do. You put your hand to his face, feeling him lean into the warmth of your palm. "I just want to love you and care for you like you do me. I just worry that I don't do enough sometimes."

He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingertips, "Ah my sweet. I'm never more at peace than when I'm in your arms. I'm never more at home than when you're next to me. The whole business could go to shit and I'd still be the richest man in the world because I have the greatest treasure in you. And I mean that my love. You believe your old man right?"

You nod. The lump in your throat finally dissapated and the weight melted away. There was truly no love like Alfie's and yours. People could talk all they want. People could make any assumptions they wanted. That didn't change what was true. And what was true was that you and Alfie belonged to each other and would for all of eternity.

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform Part 2 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Thank you all for your responses to my first part! You all are so lovely and supportive! Here's part 2 and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Nothing...not yet.

Part 2

For the rest of the week (y/n) worried that she might have offended him. Was she supposed to think he would remember her? Was it an insult to his memory to assume he didn’t? She racked her brains for hours in the dead of night only to feel foolish for even caring. It wasn’t like they had ever been close. They played together when they were kids but then she left. And yes…after the war that moment on the platform as she sifted through all those men, all those men with death in their eyes, for her brother. But that was it.

The Thomas she remembered was a quiet, thoughtful boy. He had a wild imagination and was always coming up with new games for all of them to play. (y/n) didn’t know who this man was now. Small Heath feared him. They feared the Peaky Blinders. And (y/n) was sad to admit she was fearful of him too.

Come Thursday afternoon she gritted her teeth before knocking on his office door.

In and out. That’s all. She repeated to herself.

“Come in.”

He looked up from his paperwork when she walked in. (y/n) did exactly as she had practiced numerous times in her head: she walked over and placed the drafted issue on his desk and said, “Is there anything you would like me to tell Mr. Beavers?”

Thomas stubbed out his cigarette bud and sat back with a sigh. He watched her as she stood like a statue in front of his authoritative desk. She could feel his eyes like a physical touch. She watched as the danced all over her face, her hair, her neck but no lower.

“Have a drink with me.” He got up and turned his back to pour two glasses of whiskey.

“No, thank you. I’m still working Mr. Shelby.” She shook her head as he held out the glass.

He set it down on the edge of the table and took sip from his own.

“How’s your mother?”

(y/n) was taken aback. She stood there for a minute processing his question.

“My mother? She’s sick.”

Thomas nodded, “And you’re looking after her? That’s why you came back?”

“Yes. One of the reasons.” She felt bewildered. What was this?

“What were the others?”

“I don’t understand Mr. Shelby. My reasons for returning are entirely my own.” Was this some kind of interrogation?

She watched him down the rest of the glass and clench his jaw at the sting. Thomas remained standing but slowly walked around to the other side of the desk. But as soon as he came within an arm length of her, she took a step back. It did not go unnoticed. She watched as his eyes flickered towards the distance she had created.

“I’ve heard things, that’s all.”

“Heard things? Gossip, you mean?”

He made a noncommittal noise.

“Well, it’s no one’s business. Keep believing the gossip, I don’t care if the people here spin tales.” (y/n) knew she was being a bit to hostile, but she came in hoping to just throw him the issue and leave and now he was putting her through a round house of questions.

He raised his eyebrows at her tone, “Polly’s just worried.”

She turned her head, so she didn’t have to look at him anymore, “That’s very kind of her but I’m fine. If that’s all, Mr. Shelby?”

“How about after your work?”

“I’m sorry?” Thomas had leaned back against the desk crossing his arms.

“After your work do you drink?”

(y/n) still was unsure of where this line of questions was heading.

“Come to the Garrison to have a drink,” he cleared his throat, “with me.”

Her heart betrayed her by missing a beat, but she ignored it stubbornly. No this wasn’t going to happen.

“No, I’m sorry Mr. Shelby. You’re technically my boss now. I don’t think it’s appropriate.” Before he could argue she left. Her heart jack rabbiting all the way back to the office. She was ashamed to admit she was scared he would run after her with his razors, spin her around, and threaten her, or force her to join him. No such thing happened. The day went on. She stopped by her mother’s on her way home. Nothing changed. The old woman was just one day closer to the end.

(y/n) spent the night thinking of the broadness of Thomas’s shoulders. Silly girl. She berated herself. Silly girl.

(y/n) was a loyal worker. If she was given a job, she would do it. And that’s why every week she dutiful went down to the Shelby Limited offices and dropped off the issue. Thomas never asked for another drink. He would sometimes give her a message for Mr. Beavers but that was it. No more questions. No more interrogations.

One Thursday he had pointed out a packet of papers on the coffee table he wanted her to bring to her boss. She walked over and leaned down to flip through the contents, trying to assess how much time it would take to process. As she straightened up, she flinched at his sudden proximity; he had been leaning over to have a look, as well.

“Sorry, Mr. Shelby. I didn’t hear you.” She admitted softly trying to regain control over her heart.

(y/n) took a small step back. He took a step forward. Her eyes widened and she glanced down at his feet then up to his face. But he never gave anything away. She took another step back and he followed with his step forward. His eyes fixated almost violently on her face. One step back and one step forwards.

“Mr. Shelby…” She began with a slight tremor that she hated herself for.

“Are you afraid of me, (y/n)?”

She watched him bite the inside of his cheek subtly. He was calculating. Analyzing. Waiting.

“Yes.” She admitted softly.

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. He looked angry but he turned around and walked all the way back to his desk and fell into his chair.

She grabbed the packet and left. Not looking back. Never looking back.

The next Thursday she careful placed the issue on his desk and he hadn’t even bothered looking up.

She cleared her throat, “Mr. Shelby, I can give this responsibility over to someone else. Ms. Lowe would be more than willing to take over.”

His head shot up, “Are you that afraid?” His question was accusatory.

“No, no. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Thomas snorted placing his pen down, “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? I’m making you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Shelby. I am. I just – over time I’ll become less afraid.” And she meant it. The truth was she wasn’t so afraid of what he had done, of his illegal dealings but more afraid of what she wanted him for. Afraid of how he haunted her mind at night and her day dreams.

“I don’t want Ms. Lowe.” He said while drowning her to death in his eyes. And that was that.

Life didn’t change much even with this new additional Shelby connection. Small Heath was still an unhappy place. (y/n) was still tired. Her mother still mumbled and hissed for her to leave and (y/n)’s head still hurt every day after leaving work.

Only because Evelyn had been pestering her non-stop did she bother to say anything.

“Ms. Lowe wanted to know when the next singing night would be at the Garrison.”

“Ms. Lowe?” Thomas furrowed his eyebrows. He always remained sitting at his desk when she dropped the issue off now, kept his distance and she was thankful. He was much less intimidating this way.

“Yes, Ms. Lowe. The woman you met before, blonde hair, red lips, single.”

He raised his eyebrows, “What about her?”

“What I just said.” (y/n) huffed a laugh at Thomas’s purposeful obtuseness. It was an annoyingly endearing trait that she remembered from when they were kids.

Thomas quirked his lips slightly and (y/n) was astonished to admit that she hadn’t seen him smile once seen she had met him all those weeks ago. Then again, the war changed everyone. He had that look in his eyes same as her brother, that all those men had. The look of absence. The missing piece. Something taken.

“You can tell her there’ll be one this Saturday.”

“Great, now she can finally leave me be.”

“She’s botherin’ you.” His cigarette case opened with a click. He offered her one, but she declined.

“She has quite the crush on you. She’s been asking me to drop hints. Although don’t tell her I point blank told you or she’d have my head.”

He took a long drag while watching her.

“A crush?”

(y/n) nodded.

“Why don’t you come with her on Saturday?”

(y/n) scrunched her nose, “I don’t really get along with her, but I’ll tell her the day. Can I tell her you’ll be there?”

He blew out the smoke, “No, no I won’t be there.”

It was the following week when (y/n) encountered another face from her past. She had entered Thomas’s office before realizing that he wasn’t alone. Another man was sitting in front of the desk.

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Shelby. I can come back later.”

“No need. We just finished.”

The other man had turned around upon hearing her voice, “Bloody hell! (y/n) (l/n). I can’t believe it.”

John Shelby walked over and pulled her into a tight embrace. He was all muscle now. (y/n) remembered how soft and sweet he was as a kid, round face, and chubby cheeks. Always running after her and helping her climb up the trees out in the wild. His face still carried that mischievous twist.

“John, It’s so nice to see you, again.” He put her at arm’s length to have a good look at her.

“My god. You’re an absolute stunner, (y/n). Thomas was right.”

“John, remember what I said about the meeting this evening.” Thomas’ voice was close behind his younger brother and there was an edge to it, a warning.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you ‘round (y/n). Don’t be a stranger, now.”

“Of course not, John.” She chuckled.

Then she was left with the other brother, “Here’s the issue, Mr. Shelby.”

He took it from her and tossed it on his desk without look at her, in fact he wasn’t meeting her eyes at all. Thomas methodically went about taking out and lighting a cigarette. His silence was beginning to unnerve (y/n).

“Is there something I can report to Mr. Beavers?”  

“I want to do a few pieces on horses.” He gestured vaguely, “I want a few articles on their nature, their training, their value.”

He blew out a puff of smoke and walked over to one of the sofas. He gestured to the opposite one. (y/n) followed his suggestion.

“Is that something people are interested in reading about?”

“I’ve frequented the race tracks for several years now. The more people ‘round here who feel like they have an understanding of horses will be more likely to make a bet. It develops a market.”

(y/n) shrugged, “Alright, I’ll take your word for it. I’ll tell Mr. Beavers to assign someone.”

“I want you to write it.” He pointed to her with the same hand that held his burning cigarette finally meeting her eyes. The shocking blue of them always caught her off guard.  

“Me?” She was in disbelief, “I don’t know anything about horses! Besides, I’m a general editor not a writer.”

Thomas scoffed, “I know that you write about half the articles in that paper already. Mr. Beavers told me.”

(y/n) averted her gaze to the beautiful oil painting of a horse on one of the office walls. She sighed.

“I still don’t know anything about horses.”

“I’ll arrange a time I can take you out to the stables. I’ll show you ‘round the horses.”

(y/n) sat there just staring at him. She just couldn’t understand. What was his angle? What did he want? She rubbed her forehead. It was just another chore.

“Alright, Mr. Shelby. If that’s what you think is best. I’ll tell Mr. Beavers.”

She got up to leave but he leaned forward and snagged her wrist. She stopped moving immediately and looked over at him. His hand was gentle around her arm. It was loose enough for her to shake him off. He was surprisingly warm. She saw him looking into her eyes, waiting for her fear, a flinch, a tremor, and she was certain if he saw it, he would let go immediately.

“What do you think of John?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You treat him differently. You’re not the same as you are with me.”

“I – well, he’s younger than me and he’s not my boss. I remember practically babysitting him when we were kids.” She shrugged, “It’s just different.”

His face remained a perfect mask of indifference.

“Maybe you don’t understand how you look, Mr. Shelby.” (y/n) tried again.

“How I look?” His eyebrows raised.

“Like you’d rather be anywhere else than here. You’re very serious, Mr. Shelby. It’s hard to feel at ease around someone like that.”  

His hand slipped off her wrist, “I’ll let you know when I can take you to the stables.”

(y/n) hesitated for only a moment. It wasn’t her responsibility to make Thomas Shelby feel good about himself.

Part 1 ---- Part 3

[cosmic-crybaby]

Blue Skies - Tommy Shelby

Chapter 17: 'On My Own Again'

Warnings In This Chapter: Nothing much, just some fluff. Lowkey filler chapter.

Masterlist:

---

When you awoke the next morning, you were in your bed alone.

The first thing you remembered was the fight you had the night before. And just how scary it had gotten. 

Looking around the room, not used to how lackluster it all looked compared to Thomas’ room. The only thing you really missed was the luxury of sleeping in a large bed with only the finest silk sheets to keep you warm at night. You didn’t miss Thomas. Not one bit after last night. Every time he ran across your mind, you felt a small kick to your side, sometimes you even felt nauseated. However, the somber feeling resonated within your chest as the tears threatened to fall and soak the pillow under your cheek. You had made a call to Alfie that morning, asking to take the children a few days earlier than usual so they wouldn’t have to see you in your condition. Alfie didn’t ask any questions, not having to even ponder what had happened, as the sadness in your voice when you said his name gave it all away. You tried your best to stay strong in front of your children when they were picked up. Elizabeth noticed right away, but didn’t say a word, as to not worry her younger brother. 

"I love you, mum..." She whispered to you, her hand squeezing yours. Within a few moments, they were gone to London. You had locked yourself in your room, not bothering to go to work that day. You rewarded yourself with a day off, you needed it. 

Rubbing a comforting hand over your stomach, knowing the baby might feel all of the emotions you were going through. It was an attempt to soothe it and bring it the comfort you didn’t have at the moment. The more you sat in your silence, the more you began to realize something about your relationship with Thomas. For the most part, he showed you how to love again. Showed you how to remember after all those years of almost forgetting what love was. But Thomas Shelby also brought you so much pain and anger. You didn’t expect Thomas to hurt you the way he did, but you knew deep down that you were thinking too highly of him. This made you feel even more upset with yourself, knowing that Esme was just trying to warn you. But of course, you overlooked them. 

Your resentment for Tommy dominated the fact that the both of you did the ten things you had discussed the night you first met.

It took a few days for you to get back on your feet again, finally feeling some kind of motivation to work. 

It was the middle of the day, you were just cleaning up some tables and taking the dirty tea cups into the back sink to clean them. Your task had to come to a stop once you heard the familiar bells chime as the heavy wooden door opened and slammed shut. 

"I'll be right with you!" You called, groaning a bit as you opted to just place the cups in the sink, reminding yourself to finish it up later when you had the chance. 

"What can I get for-" Your words got caught in your throat once you exited the back kitchen. Your eyes went wide as you looked at the person you'd least expect. 

"Hi love," Her voice was calm. Her hands were clasped one over the other in front of her. 

"Esme," You were surprised. The two of you stood there for a moment until she opened her mouth to speak first. 

"I just wanted to ap-" 

"No," You stopped her, moving past the back counter to stand in front of her. Taking slow steps towards her. 

"I should be the one apologizing, Esme...I am so sorry for not believing you..." You shook your head as you felt yourself choking up already.  "I should have listened to you, I don't know how I could be so selfish," You rambled. 

Esme took fast steps towards you, noticing how your eyes glossed and your nose turned red. Engulfing you into a tight, and much needed hug and closing the space between you. Hushing you as you allow her embrace and wrap your arms around her. 

"You're not selfish, (Y/n) you were in love," She paused. "Ada was asking about you and when Tommy told her what happened, she told Polly and Polly told me...If it makes ya feel any better they're angry with him right now, especially Polly...you might be expecting a visit from her soon," Her voice filled you with warmth as she pet your hair. You sniffled, resting your head on her shoulder. 

"I don't have the heart to face them again, Esme..." You meekly replied. 

"What do you mean?" She asked, pulling away from you. 

"It broke my heart when my parents died before I could even say good-bye, it's breaking my heart again that my new family is forced out of my life because of him," Your voice was full of pain, yet the spite was still evident in your tone. 

"Even if that is the case, the Shelby's will never truly leave your life...Even if you aren't with Tommy anymore, they adored you and they will never leave your side," She comforted you. You look up at her finally. 

"Should I move so he can't fine me...or-" 

"Even if you did leave he would still find a way to find you..." 

"What should I do now?" 

She took a deep breath and held your face with her small hands. Looking at her made you feel at ease, for once. Her kind eyes and warm smile gave you a sense of safety. 

"Live your life...You can still do that, can't you?" 

You nod. 

"With or without him, I will still be by your side through this...okay?" She asked. 

After what felt like days, you finally made up your mind about Thomas. You had told Esme to relay the message to Thomas. That was the last and final straw. You felt desolation after you came to the realization that you and your children would never see him again. You loved him too much for his own good and he ruined that. It took you days to finally feel normal in your life without him.

 Esme was proud of you and therefore you were proud of yourself. 

---

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[runnning-outof-time]

The Joys of Being a Girl Dad | Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons (set in Girl Dad series)

Request: no - written for @justrainandcoffee ‘s 2 year ‘Alfieversary’

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (x Reader mentioned) & Alfie Solomons (x fem!OC & child OC mentioned)

Summary: Tommy stops by Margate to congratulate an old associate…adversary…friend.

Warnings: language (it’s Tommy and Alfie we’re talking about here), a slight bit of Cyril slander

A/N: I’m sorry it took me soooo long to write something for your celebration, Flor!! I guess I could call this a present for Rose’s 1 year anniversary too now, even though she’s not really in it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful au with us!!

A/N 2: I should also say that this story was supposed to be shorter, but I just kinda became invested and ran away with it…I hope you don’t mind. Also it’s been a bit since I’ve written for Alfie, so I hope he’s not too ooc here. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

“Who let you in?” the man who was sitting facing the open balcony door asked.

“How’d you know it was me?” the other man, who was standing at the entrance of the room, responded with his own question.

“Smelt the smoke and horse shit the second you stepped through that archway,” the first man mused, earning a snort from the second. “So I’ll ask again: who let you in?”

“Your wife…”

“Figures she did,” the first man cut the second off, muttering the comment under his breath.

“Your wife’s assistant let me in after she told me to get lost and slammed the door in my face,” the rest of the statement was shared, which made the first man finally spin in his seat to look back towards the archway.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, the two men staring at each other from several paces away…much like they had on that fated day all those months ago. “So why didn’t ya listen to her?” the first man finally broke the quiet, his quip conjoined with a look of query.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Alfie?” the second man asked, his eyebrows just slightly raised.

“It has,” the first man nodded, pursing his lips together for a moment before he continued, “yet it is still sooner than the day in which I thought I’d see Tommy Shelby again.”

Tommy Shelby just shook his head at the man’s remark, looking at the ground as he pursed his lips. It didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Why’re you here then?” Alfie asked, still wanting to get to the bottom of the Birmingham man’s presence. However, he interjected again before said man even had the chance to speak: “you’ve come to finish me off, haven’t ya? Since ya couldn’t get it right the first time.”

“I’ve come with something,” Tommy answered, not even bothering to respond to Alfie’s second comment.

He then stepped towards the chair that the other man was sitting in, his hands still behind his back. Anyone else would have wondered if maybe they’d got it right…maybe he was actually there to finish his old adversary off. But Alfie wasn’t bothered in the slightest. No, he could tell from the manner in which Tommy approached him.

“I want to offer a congratulations…on your daughter,” Tommy finished his statement once he was standing in front of Alfie. Alfie looked him over with raised eyebrows, wondering just how a busy, business-minded man like him would have gotten such information. “(Y/N) told me the news. She got word of it from Rose,” Tommy gave the curious man some more information.

“That Rosie…” Alfie mused with a slight shake of his head, “I had a feelin’ that she hadn’t cut off all contact with you Shelbys.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his wife still keeping up a regular correspondence with the wife of the man who’d shot him.

(Y/N) and Rose had hit it off practically from the moment they met each other. Their friendship went beyond their husbands’ business partnership, and so when one disgruntled husband aimed a gun at the other and pulled the trigger, the two women tried hard not to let it come completely between them. There some time where radio silence prevailed…actually most out the time over the course of the last year was filled with radio silence, but it didn’t seem like a beat was missed when Rose contacted (Y/N) to tell her of the newest addition to the Solomons family.

Although Tommy was more hesitant to make amends, he couldn’t deny his wife’s request to deliver something to the newest Solomons.

“She wanted me to give you this,” Tommy then said, finally revealing the tan, stuffed rabbit that he’d brought with him. “To give to her,” he included, making his intentions more clear.

“I knew you weren’t givin’ me a stuffed rabbit,” Alfie quipped, snorting to himself before continuing, “or at least I hope you were plannin’ to.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing that, Alfie, no,” Tommy shook his head, dismissing the comment before it gained any ground. “The rabbit’s for your girl.”

Alfie took a moment to look over the other man again. He was still holding the rabbit out in front of him, waiting for Alfie to take it. Tommy wondered how long Alfie was going to make him stand like this.

Finally he took it. “She’ll like it,” Alfie stated, eyeing over the animal from close up now. He couldn’t deny that it felt soft in his hands. Allie would surely love it. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“My three couldn’t go to bed without it,” Tommy commented, a small smile gracing his lips as he thought of his three daughters and the love they had for that very stuffed rabbit.

A look of realization flashed across Alfie’s face as he heard Tommy’s comment. He brought his hand up to his jaw and ran it down his cheek slowly, stroking his beard as if he was in thought. “Have a seat,” he then said, gesturing to the chair that was set directly across from the one he was sitting in. He waited until the other man was seated before continuing, “three girls, huh?” he mused, sounding like he was talking more so to himself than anything.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded in response.

“A proper girl dad,” Alfie commented then.

“A what?” Tommy asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re a dad that’s got all girls, hence the fucking term girl dad…stick with it, Tommy,” the response came laden with derision.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at the other man’s comments, looking to the ground as he let the air cool off before he cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Yeah, a girl dad then.” He ran a hand along the back of his head as he spoke, wondering if he was even using the term correctly. Alfie didn’t comment, so he guessed that he didn’t seem to care none.

Instead the newer father continued on with the conversation. “Does it ever get hard?”

“What? Being a girl dad?” Tommy looked over at him again.

“No, not being able to hit your fucking mark when you’re fifteen fucking paces away,” Alfie retorted, “yes, being a girl dad,” he then exaggerated his words.

Tommy bit his tongue yet again. He wasn’t here to get into a fight with Alfie Solomons. The rabbit currently sitting in the other man’s lap was supposed to serve as a sort of olive branch.

“It does,” he finally answered after a moment’s pause.

“Give me some fuckin’ detail, mate,” Alfie asked.

“Fuckin’ hell, Alfie,” Tommy sighed under his breath, pressing the pads of his thumbs against his eyelids. He cleared his throat again as he thought of how he’d answer the question. “It’s been hard from the moment we brought Thea home. A different sort of hard than the ‘hard’ I’ve experienced prior. But it’s also been rewarding...with Thea, then Evie and now Juniper. I’ve learned more from them than from anything else I’ve ever done.”

Alfie took a moment to digest what his confidant had just shared with him. He truly didn’t expect Tommy Shelby to come out with such meaningful statements. I guess even the worst of men can change their tones, he thought to himself. “I didn’t know ya had it in ya, Tommy,” he commented, exuding a breath of a laugh as he shook his head.

Tommy kept his eyes locked on Alfie unsure of how to respond to his comment. He wondered if this was all some sort of game…if Alfie now wanted to toy with him; getting him to open up just to use the information against him.

“Thanks for sharing it though. I, uh…” Alfie paused, the sound of his voice cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and making him focus in again. “I’ll take all of the help I can get with this one. They say that raising a child takes a fucking village, or however that fucking saying goes.”

“There’s a great deal of joy in it too,” Tommy made sure to add, hoping to convey that having daughters, or kids at all for that matter, wasn’t only stressful. “I just know that I wouldn’t be able to do it without (Y/N) though.”

“That’s the same with me and my Rosie. A fuckin’ trooper, that woman is,” Alfie agreed in regards to his wife. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for Rose Solomons. He genuinely owed his life to her…and he was going to spend the rest of it showing her.

Silence fell between the two men then, both sitting comfortably in their thoughts of the women they had in their lives, and of how much their respective wives meant to them. The silence hung until the sound of small feet came pattering off of the hardwood in the hallway.

“Daddy! Daddy!” a shrill voice of a small girl soon accompanied the hurried footsteps. Said girl quickly appeared in the archway of Alfie office. Along with her frantic demeanor, Alfie was also able to see streaks of tears on her chreks.

“What’s wrong, Allie?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.

“Cyril chewed on my stuffie, daddy!” she exclaimed, hiccuping as she spoke through her tears. “It was my favorite stuffie!”

“Awe now love, I’m sorry about that,” Alfie began, opening his arms to the child as she came over to him. She quickly fell into them, and he wasted no time in hugging her tightly. “He’s just a brute that knows nothing of favorite stuffies,” he consoled her as she continued to sniffle her tears away.

Tommy watched on as the moment played out in front of him. He laughed to himself as hearing the reason behind the problem at hand took him back to the moments where Cyril had chewed his girls’ stuffies; there had to have been several instances during the dog’s stay at Arrow House.

“I don’t have a stuffie now, daddy,” Allie whimpered, finally lifting her head from her father’s chest. “Mum said it was too covered in slobber to be saved.”

“Well I’ve got just the fix for ya, Allie,” Alfie began, unwrapping one of his arms from her so that he could blindly search for the stuffed rabbit that Tommy had just handed him. He continued when he found the animal, “now I know it’s no bear, and I know that your favorite stuffies have all been bears, but this lovely little lass was just placed upon my lap moments before you came runnin’ in.”

Allie’s eyes immediately found the rabbit, and she had it in her tight embrace within an instant. “This stuffie is so soft! And she has a lovely bow!” she observed, now beaming with excitement. “Thank you so much, daddy!” she smiled at her father.

“Thanks have to go to that man,” Alfie told his daughter, nodding in Tommy’s direction. He bit his tounge and stopped the urge to add ‘the one who shot your father’ because even he knew this wasn’t the time for that. He didn’t want to bring that feud into Allie’s realm.

“What’s his name?” Allie asked in a loud whisper, her shy eyes finding Tommy’s.

“Tell ‘er your name, mate,” Alfie beckoned Tommy to share the information.

“It’s Tommy,” the other man followed suit, smiling as he spoke.

Allie observed him for a moment, surely trying to decide what she felt about him. A few beats of silence passed before a smile formed on her face. “Thank you, Mr. Tommy,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re welcome, Allie,” Tommy nodded, his smile widening.

“Dad you have to yell at Cyril now,” Allie turned back to her dad, a deep frown present on her face.

“I’ll make sure he knows what he’s done,” Alfie assured her, “go play, love.”

With one last smile, Allie hopped off of her father’s lap and exited the room almost as quick as she entered it.

“That fuckin’ dog…” Alfie trailed off, shaking his head, “why’d you give him back?”

“You wanted him back, Alfie,” Tommy answered in a monotone voice.

“You may be right,” Alfie conceded, cracking a smile as he thought about the dog.

“Your daughter’s lovely,” Tommy commented.

“She is, ain’t she?” Alfie answered, “light of my fuckin’ life, that girl…both her and her mum.”

Tommy nodded, his mind going to his wife and daughters. There was no doubt that he shared the same sentiment towards his girls.

Oh, the joys of being a girl dad…even if — or rather when, because it’ll surely happen again — Tommy and Alfie were at odds with each other, they’ll always have the shared title as something they can both relate to.

MASTERLIST

The Story of Rose and Alfie

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[ryuzakemo128]

Four Horsemen

Chapter Seven: A house to call my own.

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Red (Female Reader) Genre: Modern, sci-fi, mystery Trigger Warnings: Graphic Scenes Mention of violence and criminal activities Cursing, Swearing Rating: MA15+

Masterlist: Link

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[Red's Point of View]

The circular bathtub, made of exquisite black and gold marble, took pride of place in the center of the spacious bathroom. It was a drop-in style tub, seamlessly integrated into the smooth floor. Its large size provided ample room for indulgence, allowing one to sink into the depths of relaxation.

The surrounding tiles, a rich obsidian black, adorned the walls, reflecting the gleam of the candlelight that danced throughout the space. Their glossy surface added an air of sophistication to the room, while also creating a sense of depth and mystery. It was as if the tiles held secrets within their dark embrace.

A magnificent window, framed with elegant curtains, overlooked the enchanting woods beyond. Its generous proportions allowed streams of sunlight to filter into the room, casting a warm glow upon the luxurious surroundings. Nature's artwork became an ever-changing backdrop, with dappled light and swaying branches, offering a serene connection to the outside world.

Nestled near the window, on a small table, sat the silver incense burner. It took the delicate shape of a lotus flower, its petals gracefully unfurling, symbolizing purity and enlightenment. Fragrant smoke curled upward, carrying scents of sandalwood, lavender, and other calming essences, infusing the air with tranquility.

Adjacent to the bathtub, a shelf held an assortment of bathroom amenities, neatly organized. Shampoo, conditioner, and various oils awaited their turn to pamper and nourish the body. The bottles glistened in the sunlight, their labels a promise of luxurious self-care. Black towels hung on the towel warmer, I had a large de-humidifier inside the bathroom and another one just outside the bathroom to ensure air remains dry.

On the sink in a medium sized glass jewelry casket for my rings like my diamond and fire opal ring, my brass pair of cufflinks with several myriad amber stones, a gold pendant with several myriad diamonds given to her by several exes in the past.

There was an hourglass with white sand which timed how long I was in the bath for, the light red curtain for the large window and the midnight blue walls of the bathroom. I have several small velvet purses filled with coins in case I needed them, along with a small ceramic dish held my favorite blood red lipstick along with my favourite palette of neutral eyeshadow shades and jet black liquid eyeliner.

My pair of crimson silk slippers are always outside the bathroom to put on after having a bath. I kept a hairbrush with an ivory bone handle to brush my hair before I go to bed, usually keeping it in the end table drawer beside my bed. I lived far away from the hustle and bustle of the city, in a large cottage surrounded by a forest behind it.

Steam rose from the scalding hot water from inside the bathtub, the warmth embraced my body as I stepped into the tub sinking further into the water. Letting it envelope me, a sigh escaped my lips as the tension left my body, the pure bliss I felt. My friend was staying over for the night, she wanted to see the place for herself and she planned on taking me to an art auction in town the next day.

Adeline was visiting for two days and planned on staying over for two nights at the very least. She wasn't too sure about me living on my own for a while, stating she was afraid something could happen to me while I lived in a secluded area. I assured her every precaution was put into place long before I moved in.

She walked into the bathroom fifteen minutes after I started bathing to tell me what she was going to do while she was here, interrupting my moment of tranquility. Adeline was a lively and inquisitive woman, always eager to explore new adventures. Her vibrant red hair and mischievous smile were a stark contrast to my own calm demeanor.

"Red, darling, have you decided what you'd like to do tomorrow?" Adeline asked, her voice echoing in the marble bathroom.

I leaned back against the edge of the tub, allowing the warm water to support my body. "I was thinking we could start the day with a visit to the art auction in town. You know how much I adore discovering new artists and their creations." she continued.

"As much as you enjoy baking that's for sure." I replied thinking about it further, "Anything you wanted to do tomorrow? I assume the auction would be held during the night,"

Adeline replied, "Well, during the day, I thought we could take a stroll through the local market. They have a wide variety of fresh produce and unique crafts. It's always a treat to explore and support local businesses. And perhaps we could grab lunch at that charming little café we passed by last time."

A few hours later, we both went to bed, Adeline stayed in the guest room with her fiancé, James. Unlike them, I have dated around since I was 18 and never found someone who captivated my heart. It came close though, timing was never right and it was often due to them falling out of love first.