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runnning-outof-time · 7 months ago

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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

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @jomarch-wannabe @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

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loulouwrites · 6 months ago

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HELLISH . AFLIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's secretary makes the decision to marry, it's a shame her prospective husbands seem to disappear after one meeting warnings: angst, violence, swearing, jealousy, threats, borderline stalking honestly, muderous thoughts, unedited, unrequited love word count: 3.5k a/n: i've been away for a while bc life is hard. i wanted to write a little alfie story not related to the 'home series' and came up with whatever this is so i hope you enjoy. i'm working on a taglist, so if you would like to be included, lmk <3 also lmk if you'd like a part 2 to this, i've already cooked something up!

She had known Alfie Solomons for about three years, and they had been friends since they had met.

Two years into their strange friendship, she had been sacked from her job as a secretary for an Italian businessman, he didn't say why he suddenly decided he didn't require her services, but they both knew. Tensions were rising between the Jewish quarter and Italian quarter in Camden, and everybody was sticking to their own side of town.

When she had told Alfie about it, he had offered her a job immediately - the rising tensions were partly his fault anyways.

Her mother had not been happy when her daughter came home with news she would be working for Alfie Solomons, but when she saw the stack of notes Mr Solomons had given as a 'pay advance', she warmed to the idea.

It was easy work. He had his men for the nitty-gritty stuff, she merely typed up Alfie's ramblings and sent threatening telegrams to people - it was easier than any legitimate job she had ever had, and it paid better, too.

She would often have lunch with Ollie, Alfie's second in command if you wanted to call him that. She was allowed a longer lunch than he was, Ollie wasn't supposed to have a lunch break at all, but if she were talking to him, it was rare they would be interrupted, unless there was an urgent matter to attend to.

Ollie was a good gossip, better than any of the other men in the bakery, Alfie excluded. But, unlike Alfie, Ollie had no interest in her, sexually or romantically, so she enjoyed the time she could spend talking to him, discussing rumours or chatting about their lives outside of work without it turning into something else within minutes.

"Do you think he'll let me leave an hour early?" She asked from where she was perched on the man's desk, swinging her feet back and forth.

"He'd let you leave now if you asked," Ollie replied, rolling his eyes at the girl. It was true, Alfie would probably still pay her if she didn't show up, he'd let her release a group of pigs in his office if she wanted to.

"He's in a mood, though."

"He's always in a mood."

"Not as bad as this," she pointed to their boss' office, where the blinds were pulled up, showing his figure stomping around the small room, throwing pieces of paper and trinkets onto the ground.

"Fuck," she sighed as a loud crash was heard, though they couldn't see what had bared the brunt of the man's rage from their seats.

"Maybe reschedule?" Ollie offered, his eyes not leaving the glass window of Alfie's office.

"I'm just going to ask him," she planted her feet on the ground, ignoring Ollie's protests. "The worst he can do is say no," she shrugged, walking towards the office door.

"That is not the worst he can do," he called after her in an urgent whisper.

She didn't knock when she entered, she never had, and she wasn't about to start now.

A book flew past her face when she stepped inside, and she quickly stepped to the side, it hitting the wall behind her and falling to the floor.

"What did...that Russian book ever do to you?" She asked, and his head snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide.

"Shit, sorry 'bout that, love," he sighed, wiping a hand over his face but she waved him off, moving to sit in one of the chairs at his desk.

"Bad day?"

"Better now," he winked at her, and she rolled her eyes playfully. "What do you want?"

"I want to leave an hour early," she offered him a wary smile, clasping her hands together pleadingly.

"You fuckin' what?"

"Please, Alfie-" she started, but he was up from his seat before she could finish her sentence, pacing up and down the cramped office with his hands on his hips. "It's only an hour, and I'm not doing anything anyway."

"You're not doing anything?" his eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "You're really admitting that to your boss?"

"Please, Alfie," she stood up, taking a few steps towards him. "I never ask you for anything."

She scowled at the obnoxious laugh he let out in response.

"Never ask me for anything?" his voice raised an octave to mock her. "A pay advance that you still haven't paid back," he help up a finger as he counted. "A weekday off so you can go shopping when it's less crowded, a bonus so you can get your mum a birthday present, a day off when your fucking cat died," he stepped towards her. "Asking me to come to it's fucking funeral."

"You said it was a lovely service," she placed a hand on her chest in offense.

"You know what?" he sighed, rubbing a hand up and down his face. "Just fuck off, yeah?"

"Really?" She smiled, clapping her hands.

"But you will come in an hour early tomorrow to make up for it, or so help me God, I will come to your house and drag you here myself."

It was an empty threat, and they both knew it.

"Thank you, Alfie." She reached to place a kiss on his cheek, not taking offense when he reached to wipe his cheek when she pulled away, already opening the door to leave. "I'll see you bright an early tomorrow."

She couldn't make out what he grumbled after her.

Alfie waited until she had left the bakery to slink out of his office, approaching Ollie's desk, and tapping on it with his knuckles.

"Why'd she want to leave early?" he asked his assistant, not missing the way the younger man sunk down in his seat.

"I don't want to tell you," Ollie replied, sheepishly.

"Ollie," Alfie warned.

"She's meeting up with someone?"

"Ollie."

"A man. She's meeting up with a man, her mum's friend's son or something. Think she's looking to settle down, you know?"

Alfie hummed, a hand coming up to rub his beard. "Interesting," he mumbled, walking back to his office, landing a smack to Ollie's head as he passed.

Her suitor had been a perfect gentleman. Jacob had taken her to a fancy club in a nicer part of London, had bought her dinner and drinks without grumbling about the prices, and had dropped her off at home with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to take her out again the following weekend.

She hadn't thought a man her mother had set her up with would be particularly charming, but she had been proven wrong, the stupid smile she wore on her face all week being proof of that.

She had been thinking of settling down for a while. All of her childhood friends were married with several children at this point, and she didn't miss the sympathetic looks they would give her when she told them she was still unmarried, still childless, and still working.

Marriage was always something she thought would come naturally -as it seemed to do with everyone else around her - but years rolled by and she was still no closer to the life that had seemed so easily achievable when she was young. So, she had decided to take matters in her own hands, informing her mother and everyone else she could that she was ready to marry, and asking them to let her know if they knew a boy they thought would be a good match.

And, she thought she had found the good match on her first try, but when the week after her date rolled on, and there was no word from Jacob, she realised how stupid she had been.

She had been moodier than ever that week, stomping around the bakery with a scowl on her face, smacking the keys of her typewriter harder than necessary, and barely speaking two words to whoever approached her.

She was not dealing with the rejection well.

So, when a handsome worker - who she recalled was named James -- passed her desk, offering a confident smile as he did, she wasted no time.

She wandered into Alfie's office with her hands clasped behind her back, swaying slightly as she waited for him to look up from the papers on his desk.

"What?" He asked, still reading the scribbles on the page.

"Didn't know you'd taken new people on," she shrugged nonchalantly, keeping her tone light and unbothered.

"And? What about it?"

"I don't know," she shrugged again, stepping further into his office. "Just a lot of new faces around here,"

Alfie groaned, dropping the papers from his hand and removing the glasses he wore from his face. "Since when do you care about new faces?"

"I don't," she laughed defensively. "I was just wondering about one of them, is all."

"You were just wondering about one of them," Alfie's eyebrows rose, and he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "What were you wondering about?"

"I mean...maybe some background..."

"Like what? His favourite fucking book? The fuck you expect me to know?"

"I was just wondering, that's all," she held her hands up in defense, and her boss' eyes squinted at her words.

"I thought you were already seein' someone, that is why you left early a couple weeks ago, ain't it?"

"Who the fuck told you that?"

"Don't matter," Alfie offered her a smile. "Didn't work out or something..."

"No, it didn't," she huffed. "So...about James..." she trailed off, waiting for Alfie to step in, but he merely offered her a blank look. "Alfie," she whined, stomping her foot against the floor."

"Don't know 'im. Sorry, love," he waved a hand dismissively.

"Fine," she spun on her heel, storming out of his office. "I'll find out myself."

James was lovely. She had 'bumped' into him when she was leaving, and it hadn't taken him long to offer to take her out for drinks when he finished his shift, which she had accepted with a grateful smile.

He had met her outside of the local pub near the 'bakery', it wasn't a particularly nice establishment, but the lager was cheap, and she supposed he didn't have the money to spend in a fancy club like Jacob had - not with the pittance she was sure Alfie was paying him.

He was funny, and quite respectful in comparison with some of his colleagues. He had asked her questions about her interests, had shared his own, and she was delighted that they seemed to have quite a bit in common.

They had ended the night at her door, with chaste kiss, and another promise to go out again the following week, and she had closed the door with a grin on her face.

"See you at work tomorrow," he had said as he walked away.

When she arrived to work the next morning, the same grin still on her face, she couldn't stop her eyes scanning the floor as she walked to her desk, desperately trying to seek out James, but, when she couldn't find him, she had shrugged it off.

Maybe he was ill or something.

It was now Thursday. Her date with James had been on Monday, and there had been no sign of him ever since.

It was hard not wonder, had something bad happed to him? Had he been hiding every time he saw her walking through the distillery? Had he been so repulsed by her that he had quit his job just to avoid seeing her again?

The thoughts had consumed her all week, and they had affected her mood significantly. Unlike with Jacob, where she had been an angry force at work, she was now forlorn, barely speaking to anybody, and zoning out of conversations with a vacant look on her face.

It was starting to worry her boss, who spent longer than appropriate watching her from his office window.

He had called her into the office that afternoon, watching as she walked seemingly in a daze, her eyes were duller, and he face appeared more sunken.

She didn't say anything when she took a seat at his desk, nor did she meet his eyes when he said her name.

"You alright?" he had asked, his tone more concerned than he wanted it to be.

"Wonderful," she replied, her voice flat, fiddling with a thread on her skirt.

"You've been wandering 'round like a ghost for the past week, love. What's goin' on with ya? Please don't tell me another fucking cat died."

She huffed a laugh that was clearly fake, still fiddling with the thread when she responded. "I think I'm unmarriable, Alfie."

Alfie's shoulder's straightened at her words, leaning his arms on his desk, he studied her face, watching as she blinked away the tears that were beginning to pool in her eyes. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Two men in two weeks, Alfie. I have gone out with two men in two weeks and they have both disappeared...literally disappeared, I haven't seen them since."

Her eyes lifted from her dress to meet his, and Alfie was struck by how sad she looked. He had never thought she would be this upset by a couple of boys not getting back to her after one night.

"That's silly, love," he sighed. "It don't mean nothin'"

"Yeah," she scoffed, "it does."

He considered telling her in that moment, he truly did. A better man would have, would have confessed right then and there.

A better man would have told her that they had cornered Jacob after he had dropped her off at her door. How he had almost certainly broken the young man's nose before he had a chance to blink, how he had had his men hold the boy by the shoulders while he whispered a warning in his ear.

"Stay away from her."

He really should have told her that he had turned up at James' shitty flat on Monday night, waiting for the man to return from his date with her. That his worker's body had began to shake when he saw his boss leaning against his front door, his arms crossed against his chest and a cold look in his eye.

"Have to let you go, son," Alfie had said. "A worker that is more concerned about fucking my secretary isn't one I want workin' with me."

James had begun to splutter a reply, but Alfie was already heading for the stairs.

"Best you stay away from her, yeah?"

It hadn't been a question.

He really should have told her, but he didn't. Instead, he had sighed and rose from his seat, moving into the empty chair beside her.

"You ain't unmarriable, woman," he told her, patting her shoulder. "You just chose two fuckin' idiots."

"Whatever you say, Alfie," she said, standing up and walking out of the office without another word.

He should have confessed, but he didn't. He did, however, promise himself he would not get involved in her personal life anymore. The next man she met, would not have to face a threat from Alfie Solomons.

She had been leaving her home to go to work when she had ran into Elijah on the street. He had chased after her, holding an envelope in his hands, waving it frantically when she finally turned around when she heard the stranger's voice calling after her.

"I think you dropped this," he handed her the envelope, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she took it from his hands.

"Oh, thank you," she laughed. "My boss would have murdered me if I lost it."

He had laughed at her words, not realising she wasn't exactly joking about her boss.

"I'm Elijah," he held out a hand, which she took with a smile.

"He's really nice, Ollie," her words were muffled as they travelled into Alfie's office, and he had to press his ear closer to the door to be able to hear her clearly. "A real gentleman."

'A real gentleman.'

Alfie rolled his eyes, 'gentleman' was just another word for a soft prick.

"We're going out again tonight," she told her friend. "Said he has a surprise for me."

"What do you think it is?" Ollie asked her, and Alfie rolled his eyes again. Ollie was worse than a fucking twelve year old girl.

"I mean we've been seeing each other for a while, he's met my family, I've met his..." she trailed off, and Ollie's gasp was clear as day from where Alfie was standing.

"You think he's going to propose?"

And just like that, Alfie's heart dropped to his stomach. He tore his ear from the wall, storming back to his desk, dropping to the seat with a heavy thud.

Of course Elijah was going to propose, of fucking course. She had been seeing him for the better part of four months, and she spent every waking minute talking about the nice doctor, it was natural that his was how it was going to progress.

He regretted not cornering Elijah on is way to work the moment she had mentioned his name, regretted not giving him the same treatment he gave the two men that came before him. He should have, should have twisted the man's arm behind his back until he was crying like a little girl, should have had his men hold him down while he kicked him in his ribs until blood came out of his mouth, he should have put the barrel of his gun to his head an pulled the trigger.

But to what end?

She was a good girl. She wanted to get married, have a few children and take care of the house while her husband was at work.

Alfie couldn't offer her that.

Everything he could offer her, he already had. He had given her protection, a stable income, and some form of friendship. He could never give her what she truly craved. He knew that, no matter his feelings for her - feelings he didn't understand himself - he couldn't give her the life she deserved.

And that thought made him sick.

The room was too hot for him to sit in any longer. Alfie pushed through the crowd of people, shoving them harder than necessary until he reached the door, the sound of music and laughter fading as the heavy door closed behind him.

He took a seat on a damp wooden bench, his head dropping in his hands.

It had been a lovely ceremony, a bit small, and a bit cheap for his tastes, but she had managed to make it lovely anyways.

He stood when she entered, her parents on either side of her, walking her to the end of the aisle.

She didn't spare Alfie a glance, too busy looking ahead - looking at him. The bitterness twisted in his stomach and it took all the self control he possessed to keep a neutral look on his face.

Elijah met her at the end of the aisle, taking her hand and helping her up the little steps, a sickening smile on his face.

Alfie didn't miss the sympathetic glance Ollie, who was beside him, threw him.

"Not enjoying the party?" her voice was as sweet as anything, full of happiness.

"Weddings ain't really my thing, love," he offered her a smile, it dropping as quickly as it came.

"But this isn't just any wedding, Alfie," she said, taking a seat next to him. "It's mine, you should be happy."

"Why is that?"

"You've finally gotten rid of me," she laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers. "You don't have to pay me to sit around and do nothing all day, should save you a bit of money."

Alfie didn't laugh with her, a bitter smile on his face as he looked down at his hands.

"Oh don't tell me you're sad about me leaving?" her voice held nothing but humour and Alfie wanted to scream at her.

How can you be so blind?

Can't you see I love you?

"Nah, I'm just upset it took this long," he said eventually, rising from his seat, patting her on the shoulder as did. "I'm gonna head out, but congratulations, love. You look very beautiful."

Her eyes softened at his words, her smile widening from where she was sat, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling.

He didn't have time to react when she shot up from her seat, throwing her arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer to her.

"You're the best friend I could have asked for, Alfie," she whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Yeah, well," he cleared his throat, pulling her arms away from his shoulders and taking a step back. "Fuck off, now. You're missing your own wedding you stupid woman."

She laughed, nodding her head and disappearing back into the building before Alfie could blink, leaving him frozen in place, the bitterness that once consumed him being replaced by what felt like an all-encompassing sadness.

'The best friend I could have asked for."

What a fucking joke that was.

#alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x oc

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tickettride · 1 month ago

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Like real people do

Alfie Solomons x Fem!OC

[warnings: war in itself, mentions of blood, wounds and deaths, a lot of angst, suicidal thoughts, English isn't my first language

AN: I know Child 44 isn't set during WW1 and I should be banned from using such a gif. But it's close to the representation of young/soldier Alfie I have in mind, so let's say it is, right? It’s also your sign to watch (again) my fav edit in the world]

masterlist | previous part

— two

July 1917, somewhere in France

The sky was an eerie amber, like hell itself had descended upon earth. Shells exploded so close to the tent you had caught yourself freezing in horror a couple of times, even when the other nurses yelled at each other to keep going and never stop.

It had been your choice to come here, two years ago. Some generous act to show your parents you were a good person. The thing is, you’d prepared yourself to be working in a hospital ward in the city, not so close to the battlefield where you risked your own life every day trying to save others.

Coward. Wimp. You’d heard them all. Only now, you were stuck here.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like helping the men. You really did. It filled your heart with satisfaction every time one of them thanked you for saving their lives, shedding tears as though you were an angel. Reality was just harsh. You’d managed to stay over water for the first months, but witnessing such horrors was getting harder every day. How could you help the men when you could barely stay alive yourself?

Furiously blinking the tears away, you looked at the lifeless body in front of you and shouted at Ellen to get you someone, anyone, to take the young man away. Like assembly-line work–from what your dad had described back at home–the corpse was taken away, and you were met with another man bleeding to death, begging you to help him.

So you did. Everything blacked out as you focused on the crying Tommy, thinking only of your Andrew somewhere on the line. The man looked just like him—soft eyes, freckles over his nose, and dark hair. A faraway gaze and a voice that broke your heart and your soul, until you were unable to move or say something, and your legs seemed wholly unable to hold you up in your current state.

In the distance, the Chief Nurse shouted at Ellen to replace you. God knew how long you had been standing there, staring at the blood gliding off the scalpel and through the gaps in your fingers. It could have been Andrew’s. Your sweet Andrew, whom you’d promised to get to know better after the war ended. What if he’d already died, somewhere in the mud? Had he called for you?

“Out!” another voice yelled.

Now fully hyperventilating, you dropped the scalpel with the other bloodied tools, knocking over some supplies that fell on the floor.

Some unknown force pulled you out of the tent.

The breeze was gentle, but it helped you stay grounded. You pressed your palms to your eyelids and counted up to ten, sweat gliding down your forehead. The display of weakness was ridiculous, especially as some walked by without really seeing you. Everyone had their own issues to deal with, you knew it, but couldn't kindness be reciprocated for once?

So you drew in a deep breath and held it before exhaling slowly, just like Ellen had told you to do the first time. It'd never hit so hard, and it took forever to find some sort of peace again. Though you knew the only peace you’d meet was in the afterlife, wherever it was.

In the shocked calm of your brain, you considered it. How easy it would be to just… stop.

“Miss?”

Your head snapped up in fear, though it was only one of the Tommies. Freshly shaven, his eyes full of horror. And still, you wondered how he could stand so straight.

“Miss? You’re alright?”

Deciding to be honest, you shook your head and felt your body swaying a bit, landing on the ground. You stayed there, sitting on the mud, wondering if the cries reaching your ears were only a part of your imagination.

You hugged your legs and rested your forehead on your knees, not caring that you were soiling your uniform with mud. It was stained with blood anyway.

“The panic, eh? It grips your heart like a snake. Won’t let it go.”

Numb and unable to utter a word, you tilted your chin to look at the man who was sitting down next to you, clenching and unclenching your fists. He looked older than you, perhaps in his thirties. You’d noticed him in the ward a few days ago, but he hadn’t been as vocal as the others back then. A leg injury Ellen had taken care of, you reckoned.

“They said it’ll be over in a few months,” the man went on, strangely soothing. “But they’ve been sayin’ the same shit for years now, haven’t they? So the people like you and me don’t give up.”

His gaze boring into yours was an invitation to be honest, as though telling you that you were safe with him.

So you were honest.

"I won’t last.”

“Ya will, love,” he elbowed you gently, slightly leaning closer to you. “Ya will. I’ll come and find ya, and we’ll have a short conversation every time, yeah? As much as we can.”

For the first time in over a year, you smiled. Not a full grin like you’d offered people at home, but it was still something. And if there was something you had never forgotten, it was that exact moment of hope, as small and stupid as it sounded. Nurses often fell for the sweet and relieving words of the men, but you’d never considered it could feel so nice. Cheerful lads were rare, after all.

"Right."

Even though you weren’t sure you’d see him the next week, you gave a small nod in agreement. It was bad to think he could cure your loneliness, but what else could you do? Andrew was… somewhere else. Probably dead, or writing an apology for not sending letters.

A small pause ensued. The man glanced over his shoulder, pulling at the tight collar of his khaki uniform. He looked terribly hot and uncomfortable, and there was nothing you could do about it.

“Ya need to think about something that reminds you of home, eh?”

It took you a second to realise he was still addressing you.

“Well, I…” you trailed off, ashamed of how weak you sounded. “I wanted to think about my sweetheart, you know, but I don’t even know where he is. I haven’t got any letter in two weeks. I’m worried.”

“He must be thinkin’ of you somewhere,” he replied without a doubt. “The postmen aren’t used to workin’ so much, you see. Workin’ all day long–that’s a first for them.”

Chuckling softly, you hugged your legs a bit tighter. “I’m glad they’re here, though.”

“Me too, me too. Don't get me wrong.”

You shot him a smile, staring at his expression as he watched you back. He looked both gentle and… impressive, came to think of it. Still, you appreciated his desire to make you feel better.

“Sadie!”

Right on cue, one of the postmen sauntered over to you, holding up an envelope that looked like it had crossed the trenches and been stomped on in the mud before getting here.

“Letter for you, darling,” Rob gave you the usual crooked grin, saluting quickly the man next to you.

You took it from him, squinting as you tried to decipher who the sender was. Your mother. Like every time she wrote to you, a sense of unease filled you. Although your brother's disability had prevented him from coming to the front, you always imagined the worst.

“Thanks, Rob.”

You tore the envelope without waiting, exhaling in relief as you read that everything was fine at home, the worry that had been gnawing at you finally lifting. The letter was folded and slipped into your pocket.

The man's thick accent jolted you out of your thoughts, his eyes still trained on you.

“Good news, yeah?”

“They’re not bad,” you replied, glancing at Rob who was now handing another nurse a small package.

You wished you'd got one.

Beside you, the soldier was silent, probably feeling you needed some time. But the thought of going back inside was scarier than usual, and you were desperate to make the moment last.

“You said I’d need to think of something that reminds me of home. What helps you?”

“Bread.”

That one-word response had you chortling. “Bread? Are you a cook by any chance?”

“Nah, something wiser,” the man tried for a smile too, though it looked strained. “I’m planning on opening my bakery, see?”

How many men had told you about their plans, only to die the day after?

“Why, that sounds lovely.”

“I’ve bought the place, right, and…” he trailed off in thought, running a hand through his short hair. “I’ve been waitin' ever since.”

“I hope you make it,” you told him sincerely, frowning at the muddy men running into the tent.

It seemed that another horde of wounded soldiers had arrived. It made your pulse race.

“Alfie Solomons.”

Spotting his hand stretched in your direction, you met his gaze again and shook it. His fingers tracked tiny sparks across your skin until they pulled away, maybe a bit too fast.

“Sadie Murray.”

The image of him glancing up at you as he lighted a cigarette was engraved in your mind. The beginning of a smile on his lips, and the way he ground the white stick under his shoe when you walked inside the tent. It was hard to ignore how your heart thumped under the weight of his eyes tracking you, though it should have been your Andrew comforting you there.

Through the explosions and the daily horrid cries of pain, the first meeting with Alfie Solomons was the one thing that kept you going for the next months.

tags: @hoodeddreams13 @justrainandcoffee ⊹₊⟡ (tell me if you’d like to be added as well!)

#tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 8 months ago

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The Sun and The Moon

(Prologue: Meeting By the Sea) Alfie Solomons x Shelby!OC

Summary: In early November of 1917, you are over a year into your service to the Crown as a volunteer nurse. Following a hollow victory, you make your acquaintance with one Alfie Solomons. WC: 3.1K Warnings: Mentions of war, death, g-re, v-mit, foul language, angst, psychological distress, etc.

November. 7, 1917.

You know you need to hurry. It's almost nightfall; you won’t have much light left to write in. Yet you cannot help but linger at the sight of today’s victory. Before you, there is an ocean. It is a vast sea of gray, thick, and cold. Unfeeling and joyless. An ocean of standing water, crumbling buildings, and miles upon miles of mud. The buildings once housed people, but now they resemble the ruins of a bygone era. A necropolis.

Rolling clouds of dirt and gunpowder float just above the ground like phantoms. It’s the only piece of this that reminds you anything of home. Beckoning to the fog and soot that rolled in the early mornings when you would walk with your brothers to Charlie’s yard. Behind you, white tents flap in the wind, and cloth clings to metal rods that hold the structure in place. A field hospital. The only taste of civilization left for miles.

Rings meant to fasten the flaps down rattle like windchimes against the winds. A sudden updraft carries the stench of decay from the trenches up to where you stand. You press a cloth into a small bottle of peppermint oil. Quickly, you put that cloth on your nose. One of the first things you learned after joining the VADs was to keep your feet dry and to have plenty of peppermint oil on hand. It wards off the smell of rot, both in the living and the dead. The first time you smelled it, you vomited. Now, you barely gag. Still holding the cloth to your nose, you turn back to the field hospital.

Your name is Maeve Shelby, and you are twenty-four.

It’s warmer inside the tents. Uncomfortably so. The warmth is from all the bodies; most lay about in cots; the rest are your fellow VADs and doctors. Humidity mixed with stagnant sweat and all the bed pans that ever come clean enough to be rid of acrid remnants. To save yourself from having to sit in the midst of it all, you set aside a chair for yourself at the mouth of the field hospital. It is a plain, simple wooden chair with one leg shorter than the other three. Beside it is a stack of empty ammunition boxes. You have a small lantern weighing down an unfinished letter. With a sigh, you sit down and resume your writing from earlier that day:

Dearest Aunt Polly, Ada, and Finn ,

I know once my letter finds you that this will be well-known, but the Allies have finally claimed victory here in Ypres. The soldiers say we are nearly finished ousting the Germans from Passchendaele. Only a few remain. Too injured to retreat. It won’t be long before we can claim this as ours. Still, we have yet to celebrate. It’s strange. All these months we spent fighting, and this doesn’t feel like a victory. So many lives were lost. There are too many to even try to count.

My work keeps me busy, but it is at night when my mind is most busy. Even with the fighting stopped, it has been difficult to find the dead and the wounded. I do not know where these men will be put once they’re found. We have hardly any beds left to offer. I have taken to sleeping in a chair by the entry to the main tent. Partly to free a bed for those that need it, partly to keep an eye out for any soldiers still trying to make it back.

For so long, all I’ve done is race from place to place. Now all I do is change bandages, sooth the restless, and listen for the wounded who remain stuck in the trenches. Those still well enough to fight are sent out to recover their comrades. It’s hard work. Idle bombs and lurking landmines are all still out there. Some men come back worse than they left.

I know that the boys aren’t out there, but still, I strain to listen for them. John, Arthur, and Tommy. In my dreams, I do hear them. Just as I know, you hear them in your dreams too, Polly. It makes me wake with such a fear in me that my feet carry me forward before I’m fully awake. I rush toward that ocean of muck and blood, and I stop only when my fingers pierce the earth; the feel of it under my fingernails brings back my senses for some reason.

I wonder if all the victories we’ve won felt like this. I wonder if, when all is said and done, any of this will amount to anything at all. Does anyone remember why we’re even here? Who will take our bodies home if none of us survive?

“God,” you say, taking your pen and scratching out the last line. Then, you scratch out the last paragraph. You cross out line after line. They don’t need to read this. This madness. It was good of Ada to back out of volunteering. Not just because of this lonely sea of mud and blood, but for little Finn, too. With you and the three eldest men gone, someone needed to take care of him. Mom has been dead for almost five years now. Father may as well be dead; he felt like a ghost when he was home anyway. Aunt Polly was holding up “the business,” from what you could gleam from Ada’s letters back to you.

In the year you’ve spent out on the fields, you have yet to receive a letter from your brothers. Not that you blame them. All of you are on the move. What you know of their state comes from Ada, or Polly. Arthur and Tommy are together, which somewhat soothes you. You think of John often. He’s in France with Danny and Jeremiah. I think you joined so that you could look after your brothers. It’s been years since you’ve seen them in person. Who knows what state they may be in? There are men behind you who will never be whole. Broken bodies, shattered minds, and more scar tissue than flesh. Are your brothers as you remember them? You hate to linger on the thought.

You fold your ruined letter three times and rip it in half. The give-and-take of it feels good somehow. It reminds you of something you read once about children being destructive to gain some form of control. You can’t control how long this war lasts, when you can come home, what home you return to, or what state you find your brothers in, but you can control this paper. So, you rip it again. And again. Each tear becomes more jagged and childish. You throw up your hands, and the bits of paper fly away in the cold November winds.

‘Snow from Birmingham to Belgium,’ you crack a small smile.

You once dreamed of journeying across Europe. It was a lovely fantasy filled with long train rides and French pastries. Winking at handsome strangers while hiding your smile behind a lacy white glove. Now, you feel like you’ve seen too much of it. When all this fighting is over, maybe you’ll take a holiday to Margate. Clean your memory with a long look at an ocean of water instead of this hellscape.

“Shelby!” Your head turns sharply to see Nurse Burgess charging towards you. Her round face was blotchy as always, her thin lips drawn down in a harsh frown. “Miss Shelby, you are needed in the back.”

Tucking your scented hanky back into your apron, you ask, “Is someone in throes?” Some men, in the throes of despair, couldn’t always tell the difference between a nurse and a German soldier.

Her meaty hand takes you by the upper arm and says, “No, I need you to keep an eye on someone.” Nurse Burgess drags you through the maze of malaise swiftly, despite the growing night. The nurses have navigated this place in near darkness many times now. You could probably make it from one end to the other, blindfolded. Tonight, the field hospital was quiet aside from the moaning. Nurse Burgess guides you deeper inside the field hospital with a hoarse, “It’s Captain Solomons; that bastard won’t lay still, and I haven’t the time to keep on him.”

You try to keep your voice low as soldiers in their cots roll over to follow you and Nurse Burgess’ mad dash. “Captain Solomons? I thought he was sedated, heavily!”

Nurse Burgess, on the other hand, has no such qualms. She hollers, “That man is a bloody bear. We keep trying to give him more, and he shoos us off. Now, he won’t stop trying to get out of his cot... with a blown-out leg!” Two soldiers sat on their cots with a barrel between them. They played cards under the glow of a flickering candle on their shared nightstand. As you passed, they snickered.

“I can’t imagine he would be able to move much; Doctor Gill said he nearly lost that leg,” you noted wearily. Burgess was nearly done with her escorting or you; the back of the tent was not far off. You stepped over a pool of what could have been rainwater, bile, or piss. There is no point in stopping to check.

At the back of the field hospital lay two specific sorts of patients. Those who could not move and those who absolutely should not move. Captain Solomons was in the former category. Days ago, he sustained a bullet to his shin that nearly shattered it. He had been under strict orders, and a heavy dose of sedatives, to stay right where he was. Each cot in this back section has its own privacy curtain. When you first joined, you thought it was for the nurses to sleep and change in. The other nurses had a good laugh about that. When she comes upon Captain Solomons’ curtain, Nurse Burgess lets you go. S yanks back the curtain, shielding the Captain from view, and lets out a deep grunt.

You peer around her shoulder and sigh. The captain sits on the thin cot with a sterile sheet pushed down to his legs. His back is raised from the metal headboard, and he has his body turned with his good foot nearly touching the ground. Still on the bed rests his wounded leg. It lays at a stiff, awkward angle. You know he must at least be aware of its precarious state. In the dark, it’s difficult to make out all of his features.

“Captain!”

He’s a big man, with broad shoulders and heavy muscle on his back and arms. You can see it pushing against his long-sleeved undershirt. What strikes you most about him is not his mass or his leg, but his grin. His cheeky, cheeky grin.

Captain Solomons keeps on that grin as he says, “Hm, it appears I have been caught, right?” His accent is thick. You know very little about Captain Solomons aside from the most basic of details. You know he’s from London, you know that he’s Jewish, and you know that he can be difficult. The Captain’s tone remains glib as he remarks, “And you brought a friend, ‘ello there.”

“You are to be resting, Captain Solomons!” Based on her tone, you can imagine Nurse Burgess is turning purple about now. Captain Solomons gives her a boyish shrug and stays upright in his cot. That alone makes Nurse Burgess turn to you and hiss and say, “Keep him here so he doesn’t rip his bloody stitches, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you hum. She leaves you there in the parted curtains with Captain Solomons. He regards you for a moment, then restarts his attempt at standing. You let out a sigh and hurry to him before he gains enough traction to hurt himself. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you try to ease him back into his crib. “Captain, you really must follow the doctor’s instructions.” You feel him push against your palms.

“Fuck the doctors; pardon my verbiage, but I’m about to go mad lying about this miserable lump you call a bed,” he says, putting his hands around your wrists. You are taken aback by how easily his hand wraps around your wrist. If he wanted to, it wouldn’t be terribly difficult to just shove you aside. “I need to take a walk.”

Politeness doesn’t seem to work on him, nor does roughness. While you weren’t tough like John or ruthless like Arthur, you were clever with people. You could get a sense of how someone’s mind ticked quickly. You hoped you could catch on about Captain Solomons too. “And when your stitches rip and you’ve lost your leg, what cot would you like me to move you to?”

He stops pushing against you. His chest is still heaving, and his hot breath fans your cheeks. You swallowed thickly; you really underestimated how close you were to him. This is a is a big, big man. One who had rumors of a violent temper that took very little to agitate.

“You have been injured and are lucky to be alive. And you still have all your parts, Captain. Why are you risking that just to go on a fucking walk?” He stares you down with a furrowed brow. For a moment, you worry you’ve poked the bear a bit too hard. “If you refuse to take the doctors seriously, what do you think the men who answer to you will do? They’ll all be trying to walk about despite their pain and end up injuring themselves for pride.”

Solomons puts you at ease when he sits back on the cot, releasing your wrists. “I can’t just lay about like this. I’ll lose the rest of my marbles waiting around for those doctors to get these stitches out. There’s not a single thing a man can do to occupy his mind in this place. It smells of piss, rot, and pus. If they would give me back my knife, right? I could cut out a little window in this tarp behind me and get a whiff of fresh air. But they won’t. Where’s the respect, hm?”

You cross your arms and ask, “So, you’re bored?”

He stiffens. Oh, you hit the nail right on the head with that one. You can’t exactly blame him. The longer you stand still, the faster all your fears catch up with you. All those ugly things you’ve seen and heard find you. That’s why the soldiers play cards and the nurses trade that single copy of ‘Frankenstein’ and ‘A Room with a View’ back and forth. Distraction. “If you can stay still where you are, I can try to get a book or a deck of cards. Would you like that?”

With a sweeping gesture to the darkness, he says, “Can’t exactly read a page or play a hand in the dark, now can we love?”

Shaking your head at his childish attempts at derailing your little plan, you take out a matchbox from your apron. With your last matchstick, you bring life to a lantern by his bed. You turn to face him, a warm orange light reflecting on your face. In the dim lighting offered by the lantern, you can see the Captain’s face. He’s young for a man of his rank. And handsome, you can admit as much in your own mind. His eyes are bright, and his features are deeply masculine. A hard jawline with a prominent brow and pouty lips. Most soldiers, regardless of rank, are required to be clean-shaven. This is not true for Captain Solomons. He has a well-maintained moustache and beard, cut close to his jawline. You heard from somewhere that Solomons was an exception due to his faith or his demeanor. Captain Solomons is looking up at you, too. His expression was all aglow. Bright gray eyes stare at your face. Confused almost as they regard you.

“Do we have a deal, Captain?”

He’s still staring at you, his brow furrowed as he studies your face. Finally, he says, “If you can get ‘Frankenstein,’ I’ll stay put. That’s a piece of fiction I can sit with for a good bit of time.”

You beam at him and take the chance to push his healthy leg under his blanket. Solomons grumbles, “Easy now, easy. I’m injured, remember?” He allows you to gently move him safely into his cot.

Finding the nurse who had taken possession of the book was no easy task, but she was quick to give it to you when you informed her a captain had asked for it. When you came back with the book, Solomons was still in bed. You thanked a God you no longer believed in and handed him the book. Just as you attempted to leave, Captain Solomons made an admission: “My eyes, yeah, they don’t pinch up the written word so easy these days. If there’s not a grisly scene out there for you to attend to, might you do me the service of reading this aloud for me?”

For a moment, you think about refusing. You never know when you’ll be called away. But then again, you’re the one who came up with the idea to get him a distraction anyway. Settling down at the edge of his bed, you take the book from his hand and begin to read. Captain Solomons leans back against the metal headboard, listening to you begin reading the preface. What you didn’t know was that this was the start of a near-nightly ritual. Captain Solomons would attempt to slink out of bed to go'stretch his leg(s)’ until you would rush over to distract him with another book or game of cards. He became a welcome distraction for you as well. A friend, almost. Perhaps more than that, if the way he kissed you one cold night in late November told you anything.

His lips were as soft as they looked.

Whether it was friendship or not, it lasted for about a month. Captain Solomons and his men were removed from the area for transport to the west. You and your fellow VADs would go north. He didn’t stop to say goodbye to you, which bothered you. The morning after he kissed you was the day you found out about the move. And he was already gone.

In one year and three days, the war would be over. You would return home to find that all your brothers had survived. But they weren’t quite themselves anymore, and neither were you.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders oc #peaky blinders x oc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x shelby!oc #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader

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evita-shelby · 1 month ago

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The Wandering

summary: the Nelsons visit the Wandering Jew on Halloween and Rose makes the mistake of asking Eva to investigate the ghost as well as the strange vibe the hotel has.

cw: mentions of injuries and blood, fascism, drinking and unsafe witchcraft, cheating

rose and alfie(as well as their stories) belong to @justrainandcoffee

Their first trip after the pandemic was to London to visit Katie and her husband.

Its Halloween and because they don’t want to make things awkward with his sister and her husband ---because Eva has baby fever after seeing his baby niece---, they stay at the Wandering Jew.

They knew the owners, Rose and Alfie even if neither Jack nor Alfie could stand each other. They were more Eva and Katie’s friends than his and suddenly he and Alfie are sharing a rum bottle because Rose swears there’s a ghost in this place and Eva dabbles in witchcraft.

Jack wouldn’t lie and say he doesn’t believe her if their room and the hall it was didn’t give him a nauseating sense of déjà vu.

The painting with a red bearded knight and the lady that reminded him of Eva had been the first, then the dent on the simple candleholder felt like he’d been the one to drop it and the bed board ,to top it all off, had their initials in a heart with today’s date.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Alfie asks Jack who he assumes knows the answer as he takes another candy from the obnoxiously huge bag of Halloween candy they’d brought from the States at Rose’s request.

“Fuck if I know.” Jack takes a swig of the rum bottle having no fucking clue what this will bring.

And then they woke up alone in the waiting room with a hangover. The Hotel looked the same when he went upstairs to his room expecting to find a sleeping Eva who’s going to tease him for getting blackout drunk last night.

The door opens to reveal a medieval castle, Eva dressed exactly like the woman in the painting and talking like she’s in a Shakespearean play. And because he thought it was just a crazy sex dream, he let Princess Eva led him to the bedroom only to find himself alone and back in the hall of the Wandering Jew.

Not only that he is wearing the heavy steel armor, but the red beard he’d kill to grow out like that and even worse, completely sober.

Had to be a dream, must’ve been the rum, the candy and the takeout they had last night.

“Fucking hell, what sort of ritual did Evie do?” Alfie, dressed in simple medieval clothes, appears from a different room.

One moment they’re trying to communicate with the ghost haunting the place and the next Eva’s the princess in the painting.

She’d assumed it was a dream and didn’t stop the Knight from trying to fuck her and calling her his wife. After all, it was Jack in the armor and of course she’d be turned on by him in 17th century armor. Then she went out the door to see the rest of the castle only to find herself dressed in the same clothes the knight was supposed to be taking off her.

A little disappointing, to be honest, Knight!Jack had promised to go down on her and it’s been so long since Jack had his beard that long.

“Am I dreaming? I was just in the most beautiful cottage, and I was going to go outside to see Alfie and now I’m back here, wearing this!” Rose is still dazed from whatever she saw. “Where are we?”

“I have no fucking clue.” The witch answered wanting to know if she can go back to that fantasy she just left. Taking Rose’s hand to try something, she opens Rose’s door.

It is not the medieval cottage she’d described. This time they are in none other than the motherfucking Titanic. They don’t even have time to admire their beautiful clothes as they run behind Alfie hoping to get off the fucking boat.

But they can’t get on that boat, they came through a door and any door there would return them to dry land in the haunted hotel. In a moment of confusion, they leave Alfie Solomons and stumble out of the hotel room wearing the clothes of high society women in 1912.

If there was a way to keep them, Eva would do it in a heartbeat. Still, she throws the jewelry into the vase just in case.

“I hope the next one is in the modern world.” Jack complains as they walk back to the hall from the magical woodland they left.

They were dressed in fantasy-medieval-esque clothing, it was not the steel armor but the American’s breeches were a little too snug and he looked like fucking Fabio complete with long flowing locks while Alfie looked more comfortably dressed.

Alfie doesn’t change much; Jack just moments ago had a sick ass beard covered in his normal body hair and now he’s as smooth as a fucking dolphin.

“Next time Evie does her voodoo shit, I’m kicking the two of you out of my hotel.” Alfie stares at his hand in amazement considering he’d been bleeding sparkly red blood from the thrones because the door chucked him straight onto the thorns.

“That’s not my fault, your wife convinced her to do it.” The Bostonian points out missing his scruff and buzz cut. “Should’ve booked a normal hotel room when she wasn’t looking, could’ve been making Gina a cousin instead of trapped in fucking limbo.”

“When did Katie have a kid?” Alfie asks, thinking they’d somehow missed that thanks to the pandemic.

Jack had been wonderfully spared Laurie’s second wedding and only seen his and Caroline’s IVF journey whenever he was looking at their Instagram over Eva’s shoulder.

But of course, they had to meet the baby for the baptism ---Jack was the godfather because Laurie has no real friends--- and Eva had to bring up having one of their own. After all they were pestered by everyone about the topic and then Eva later brought it up knowing he’d agree to give it a try.

“Laurie, my half-brother in New York.” Jack clarified as they headed towards the next door.

The doors on the left were Jack’s, the doors on the right were Alfie’s, or so they figured after they walked into Alfie’s fantasy shit.

“The racist one?” the Jew asks having heard what a piece of shit Jack’s older brother is from Katie and Rose who met him once in New York.

“What other brother do I have?” Jack doesn’t bother hiding it anymore, Laurie always opened his trap and ruined every first impression anyways. “Hopefully baby Gina won’t take after him.”

They enter the door; Jack is dressed like Laurie and has more pomade in his hair than when grandpa dressed him for church on Sundays as a kid.

A tall blonde woman looking eerily like Carrie with Laurie’s bad vibes takes him by the arm and introduced him to an English couple and Ada Throne, Eva’s museum curator ex-girlfriend who happened to be Tommy Shelby’s sister. As if they hadn’t seen the fucker in Alfie’s past doors twice already.

Alfie’s swing at the man and shoves off the blonde woman beside him calling him slurs.

“Where did you even dig up this thing, uncle? I thought you wanted to fascists in your pocket?” Gina asks and Jack drags Alfie back out the door wondering where the fuck Eva was.

“Nazis! Your niece was introducing you to fucking Oswald Mosely and his bitch of a wife, Lady Hitler!” Alfie is breathing hard and reeling from what went on inside the room.

How do you even begin to explain that?

“Why do you have a crucifix?” the American points at the last thing he expected Alfred Solomons to have.

Alfie looks at the thing in confusion before tossing it as far away from him as he could.

“Cutest fucking baby I’ve seen. Makes me wanna have one.” Eva talks Rose’s ear off as they open the door to Eva’s side and reveal a horde of screaming kids at a birthday party and Jack nowhere to be found.

The witch shuts the door and opens it again several times hoping to change the scene. But it doesn’t and instead both women brace themselves because at least they can get cake out of this.

It’s loud, Eva’s being hugged by several children who look like her and Jack and the calendar says 1930.

She knows this place, it’s in Cape Cod and the home to the political family that shares her husband’s last name. And sure, Jack looks like the guy who bought it and sired seven influential people that included two presidents, but it shouldn’t mean they are the same fucking people.

For fuck's sake Eva’s family was related to them. Well, had a common ancestor, Eva is no blood relation to the Nelson family. Evita Nelson ---whom she’s named after--- was her great-grandfather, Francisco Riley’s, first cousin.

But there it is, a portrait of the family with Eva wearing the same locket she has on now. She hadn’t noticed that on every door they step through it never changes, like Rose’s ring.

“These are our past lives. The hotel isn’t haunted, it knows us.” The witch turns to her friend who looks at the ring on her hand coming to the same conclusion. “It’s trying to tell us.”

“We’re soulmates?” Rose asks her, not meaning them but meaning their two respective relationships. “Like born to find each other in every lifetime, like the movies?”

“Only one way to find out.” They leave the seaside manor and return to the hotel.

The rooms are in chronological order, starting with the Renaissance Era and now in the 1930s. Eventually they would reach the modern era, and this would fucking end on November 1st, All Soul’s Day.

“Have you noticed Rose wears the same ring and Eva the same locket?” Alfie asks having formed a new theory after they left a beach house in Margate where his ex-boyfriend shot him in the fucking face.

“Shelby appears half as much, I know the two of you fucked the prick, but that can’t mean he’s your soulmate.” Jack points out, as they take a break between doors.

Jack had gone to his and woken up in the same bed with Eva wearing nothing but the locket and teasing him for carving their names in the hotel’s bed.

It had been October 31, 1924.

Then he’d found himself appearing on a beach with Rose clutching to a barely breathing Alfie. Had Jack not hauled the injured man to his house, Alfie Solomons from the 21st century would’ve died in 1924.

“An eternal thorn in my side, then.” The Jewish man jokes and looks in the mirror to find his face whole. “How did you end up in Margate with me?”

“Opened the bathroom door at the Ritz-Carelton in 1924 to take a piss and ended up inside the house. Apparently in Halloween 1924, I came to London on business and carved our initials on the bed board drunk as hell.” The Boston native answered and looked at the clock, it was just a few minutes shy of midnight.

Before that door he’d been an Irish immigrant in New York coming home with the candleholder that fell from his hands and dented right where the one in the hotel had it. Alfie claimed there had been floating subtitles, but Jack used what little Gaelige he knew from his grandparents to get by.

But that made them figure out they’re moving towards the present from the past, and because it was getting closer to morning, they’d soon end up back in 2024.

“The distillery in 1919 became your hotel, in 1924 you sold it and moved to the wherever the fuck that beach was---” the American goes over what they’ve learned so far.

“Margate, where I got some of the things at a shop there.” Alfie supplied and added to the list, “Even Rose’s ring. Where did you buy the locket?”

“Antique shop in Boston, had our initials on the back. Jack Nelson, who I was named after, was from the South End too, had a wife named Eva, and now I’m thinking these may have been our past lives.” Now that he says it out loud it feels obvious. All of them had the same names ---except Martin Feeney--- come to think of it.

“If we weren’t stuck in this place, I would’ve told you, you’d lost it, Yankee.”

They tried to sleep and see if they woke up and yet the door tossed them in the 1980s where they look great as hell and are, apparently, anarchists.

Since the jewelry from the Titanic hadn’t disappeared ---even if Eva forgot about putting it there in the first place--- Eva tossed the lighter she took from biker!Jack to keep as a memento from this never-ending night. She had taken several things each time and ,with any luck, would get to take them all home.

“We should be getting to the end; our present selves would be born less than a decade after that.” Eva yawns and wonders how their guys are doing. She’d be surprised if they hadn’t killed each other yet.

“Have you noticed Tommy is in most of mine, and in that one from yours in the 20s?” Rose asks, worried that Tommy may be Alfie’s soulmate just as much as she is.

“Yep, I wish he weren’t, but I guess he is also part of this.” the witch didn’t feel like racking her brain about this, she was tired, she wanted Jack to make her feel small and safe and keep her from feeling cold in this fucking weather. You’d think she’d get used to the cold now that her permanent residence is in Boston, but Eva can’t live without her human space heater at night.

“Did you know he tried to bribe me to get me to leave him?” Rose admits and Eva shook her head even if it didn’t surprise her.

He had been married when they dated, his long-time friend and mother to his daughter. Eva liked him, liked his sadness and expressive eyes and when he told her he was divorced, she believed him. She’s not a homewrecker, she steers away from couples with open relationships because it never ends well for anyone, and her mother’s reputation has everyone believing Eva is exactly like her.

So, when she found out about Lizzie and all the men and women he fucked with no consideration for anyone’s feelings, Eva ended things with him and found Alfie stewing over a break up with the same fucking guy.

And now they were friends, so at least some good came out of that.

“I’m glad you didn’t take the money; Alfie deserved a happy ending.” The witch assures her Shelby’s presence doesn’t mean what the Englishwoman fears it does.

“And I’m happy you found your happy ending too.”

They wait for the antique clock to chime at midnight before trying the doors again. Hard to believe they’d only been gone one fucking hour.

And sure enough, the doors reveal their rooms exactly as they had left them earlier that night. They try them several times until both are satisfied, they won’t change before running downstairs to see if their drunk husbands are still sprawled on the floor.

Both men are awake and, surprisingly, not at each other’s throats.

“Evie, I will ban you from my fine establishment if you ever do this shit again.” Alfie swears, holding his head in his hands feeling the effects of the hangover he and Jack share.

The witch pays no mind to his threats, not when she has a vase full of trophies from their time traveling this past hour.

#eva smith #jack nelson fanfic #jack nelson x eva smith #what happens in vegas #the wandering jew #alfie x rose #alfie solomons x oc

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violentlyviolettripledecker · 4 months ago

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A thirsty little snippet

This fic isn't ready to be read in its entirety yet, but I'm going to post this excerpt.

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x OFC

Word Count: 779 words

Tags: Established(ish) relationship, vaginal fingering, cum tasting

Explicit content under the cut!

“Hello, miss,” he said, and kissed below her ear. “Did you sleep well in my bed?”

She giggled. “Yes. It’s a very nice bed. I had lovely dreams.”

He cupped her breast in one hand and felt a gut-punch of lust when she gasped. He rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger until she was pushing back against him, her breath high and shaky. He pulled her even closer and sent his hand beneath the covers, up and under her skirt, her warm bare thigh the best thing his fingers had ever touched. He gave her a short little slap, to make noise not pain, and she gasped again. “Open up for me,” he said.

She did, the obedient little thing. What commands could he give and watch her willingly oblige?

He put his leg beneath hers, propping her open, and dipped his fingers between her lower lips. It would be so fucking easy to pull her back and put her on his aching cock, but instead he swept his fingers up to her clit. Fuck, he’d never wanted to see a naked body so badly, it made him feel a bit mad wondering what color her little pearl was, her dripping folds, the soft curls that kept it all secret and warm.

She rolled her hips up and into his hand, then her round arse ground back against his thigh, his cock against her back.

He looked at her face, setting his pace and movements to her sighs and gasps. She kept her eyes shut, unaware he was watching. He closed his eyes too, the better to savor what he was feeling.

Her gasps and sighs went straight through him and danced along his cock like too-light fingers. The desire to plunge into something unforgivingly hot and tight became a high, whining desperation, so he opened his eyes again and saw Edna watching him.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he said and kissed her. It was sloppy and wet, both of them distracted by his working fingers.

In a quiet, high whisper, she said, “Oh, that feels so good, Alfie. Your fingers… Your fingers feel so good.” She broke off into a whine and one of her hands wrapped around his wrist, not asking him to stop, but keeping his hand where it was.

She closed her eyes again. He could feel her stomach muscles going tense, her leg on top of his drew downward. He pressed back with his leg, keeping her open to him.

“Are you going to come, hm? Make a mess of my sheets?”

She clapped a hand over her own mouth, sending a bolt of bloodred lust right through him. She moaned into her palm as her eyes rolled back. Her hips spasmed. His cock leaked freely by the time she opened her eyes again.

Forgetting her relative inexperience, intent only on his own fucking pleasure, he raised his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucked off her juices. Some salt from her sweat, but mostly she was tangy, a little sweet. He opened his eyes to her shining and shocked dark eyes.

“Never fucking been tasted, eh?”

She shook her head. “What… What do I taste like?”

“Forbidden fucking fruit, you little minx.” He swept his fingers through her soaking folds again and held his fingers above her lips. “Go on,” he said, resisting the urge to just stick his fingers in her mouth.

She opened her lips and closed her mouth around his fingers. His cock twitched. “Oh,” she said, opening her eyes. “It’s different than I thought,” she said, and he didn’t rightly know what that meant, but if he didn’t come soon he was going to be a right terrible person to be around.

“Fucking hell. I’ve got to go. Give me a kiss first.”

She turned her head and he lowered his until their lips met. He could just roll on top of her, rut against her a few times and come all over her tits. He broke the kiss and took his leg out from between hers.

“You should go back to sleep. I’m off to the office.” He stood up, his muscles like a cramp around the hard root of his cock. “I’ll take Cyril wif me, you and the rat can have the whole house.”

“It’s Sunday,” she whined. “Why do you have to work?”

He smiled. “Bakery’s open seven days a week. No more whinging sweetheart, or I’ll give you something to moan about.”

As he thought she would, she blushed and smiled and generally looked like a woman who’d spend the night getting thoroughly fucked.

He had a terrible feeling he was fucking everything up.

---

If you liked this, you might like Water and Earth a Tommy Shelby x OFC I'm writing on AO3.

Edited 10/31 to add: This work is now being posted on AO3! If you like this, you can currently read chapters 1-8 of Monkey Puzzle Tree here!

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons smut #peaky blinders fanfiction #monkey puzzle tree

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novashelby · 3 months ago

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#peaky blinders #fanfiction #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #peaky blinders oc #fanfic #peaky blinders smut #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader

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justrainandcoffee · 6 months ago

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Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

Masterlist 3

Masterlist 4

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x ofc #tom hardy #peaky blinders #masterlist

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kikheda · 2 years ago

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Alfie Solomons SMUT Oneshot

Alfie Solomons x (Female)OC (I-perspective) / kinda y/n

Okay this is super random and I haven't written in a long time but I was so horny for Alfie that I had to write this down. Here you go :)

Warnings: SMUT, SMUT and SMUT, pet names, consensual relationship, unprotected sex, oral sex (both receiving) (please let me know if there are any other triggers I should put in the warnings, thanks) Also English is not my mother language!

Words: 2364

I recommend listening to one of these audios but it's not obligatory

It was raining like hell. I stood in front of Alfie’s secret apartment, the one that is close to the bakery. I knocked four times. So, he knew it was either me or one of his men. Heavy footsteps came closer and when he stopped, I could hear the floor creaking. He slowly opened the door and when he saw that it’s me, he looked like he was relieved.

“Fuckin’ hell what are you angel doing here at this time, looking all soggy.” I didn’t know why but I suddenly got nervous, so I looked down to the ground and mumbled “I missed ya’.” He didn’t even let me finish my sentence and had me already pulled into his entrance so he could close the door. He shoved my wet rain coat off of my shoulders and put it over the chair that was seated next to the door.

“’gonna get a bloody cold when you walk around like a wet dog, pet.” Alfie mumbled, mostly to himself and walked into his kitchen. “I will make you a cup of tea, some delight to warm you up, right.” he said and already put the kettle on the stove.

“I didn’t come for tea, Alfie.” I sighed and he turned his head at me. “Right, so you just came for the honey huh?” he mocked me and put his hands on my waist, then he lifted me up and I sat on the woody counter of his kitchen. I looked down on him while he smirked up into my face. I chuckled. My right hand caressed his cheek and I started to kiss him. His hands on my waist gripped my flesh more firmly. Alfie let out a grown, his way of telling me that he enjoys this right now.

“Ya’ know I wished I could have you on my side every second of the day but it’s ain’t safe for you coming here. I don’t even want to know what might have happened to you.” he said while looking at me with furrowed eyebrows. I sighed once again and stroked the curls of his hair with both of my hands. “Fuck that, Alfie. I’m here now. Let’s not waste any time.” I breathed into this ear and started to kiss his throat right under his ear as soft as I could. I could feel his breath on my neck as well and I knew he probably had his eyes closed by now, surrendering to my delicate touch, coaxing him to forget about all these worries he had stacked up in his mind.

His hands moved over my back and up my shoulders while he kissed me again, this time with more intensity. He put his hands on both of my thighs and softly kneaded my flesh, I moaned into his mouth and while my left hand stayed on his waist, my right hand went to his crotch. Starting to stroke him through his pants, Alfie moaned and let go of the kiss.

“Fuck, you really just came for one thing didn’t ya angel?” he asked with a thick voice. “Yes, that is true, Alfie. I came only for you.” I replied smiling into his face.

“Not quite yet.” he said and touched my pussy through my underwear as well. I let out a huff and closed my eyes as I enjoyed his fingers drawing slow but firm circles on my clothed clit. Suddenly my whole body turned into jelly, his touch, his scent, the way he was breathing, it all took me into a deep, lovely, delicious void that I did not want to escape. Alfie trailed his mouth along my cheek and kissed me gently there, his beard tickled on my skin while his movements quickened and got my heart beating faster.

“Oh, Alfie, never fucking stop, please.” I whined while my face fell into his shoulder. I was so turned on, I wanted to make him feel as good as I possibly could make him feel so my hand went into his trousers and grabbed his naked cock. I wanted to tease him, I wanted to make him beg for me like he made me beg for him. My hand gripped his shaft but barely made any movements. His breath quickened and Alfie chuckled. He knew exactly what I was trying to do.

We both loved these little silly games between us when we wanted to tease each other but also pleasure the other one like there is no tomorrow. He let go of my pussy and I whined at the loss of his touch. Both his hands held my face, and he kissed me. “You’ve got no fucking idea what you’re doing to me, pet.” he whispered, his lips gently touching mine. “I could take you right here and now, but I should bed my princess a little more comfortable.” saying that, Alfie lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder. I laughed as he did so and held onto his back, so I did not fall down. He carried me into his minimalistic bedroom that only contained a bed and a night table with burning candles on it.

He put me down on to the bed and made me sit on the edge. His hand held the left side of my face and made me look up at him. The expression on his face was serious, but his eyes revealed more. I smiled up at him and leaned into his hand on my cheek. Alfie just stared down at me in silence.

“Are you gonna obey?” he asked in his intimidating voice while he narrowed his eyes. I, surprised by his sudden change of dominance blinked a few times, after gulping down my spit I nodded at him. “Well, go on then.” he said and started to shove down his pants. “Take my cock in your mouth like the good girl you are.”

He directed my head towards his dick but then let go of it. I took his shaft into my hand, which already made him moan, and started to wrap my lips around his tip. Alfie let out a long breath. “Right.” he said and started to moan louder as I let my mouth slip down a little more. I let my head bop up and down, my hand starting to touch his balls, teasingly kneading them. “Yes.” he breathily said, and his hand started to caress the back of my head.

He was hard and thick in my mouth, twitching once in a while. Without any warning I slid down the whole of his length in one movement and had him moaning my name in pleasure and agony. As quick as I slid down, I let go of his cock and wrapped my hand around it to slowly pump it. Then I shoved myself off of the bed and kneeled in front of him. This way I could keep pumping him while my tongue deliciously licked over his balls. “God, I’m…” he panted, having trouble to form a full sentence, “…not gonna last long like this, sweetheart.”

I chuckled, proud of my actions that made him feel so good. Only now I realized how wet I was and how hungry I was to get satisfied myself. Letting go of his balls and cock, I looked up at him for a short second and my eyes turned into hearts looking at his aching, pleasure-drunk face. Quickly I took his cock into my mouth once again and bopped my heart up and down as fast as I could. After moaning a little more, Alfie took my face and removed his cock from my mouth. “Fucking hell, you need to go slow on me, darling, I need to save this for later.“ He opened his hand waiting for me to let him grab mine so he could help me standing up. His cock was still hard and angry, so Alfie’s movements weren’t so patient anymore. He unbuttoned the white blouse I was wearing within seconds and threw it on the ground. He continued undressing me, while leaving kisses on my jaw, my neck, my chest. And when he shoved down my skirt, he kneeled in front of me, taking my feet out of my shoes, his hand grabbed my calf and slid up my whole leg. His hands grabbed both sides of my hips and he softly pushed me down to sit on the bed. He looked right at my still clothed pussy as I still had my tights on. Kissing the skin on my hipbones, he got up and his demeanour changed again, looking down at me, his dominance came back to his mind.

I put my hands on my tights and wanted to get out of them, but his hands quickly grabbed for my wrists and stopped me. “No, no, dollface. Not yet.” He straightened his body and started pumping his cock. “Touch.” he commanded, and I obeyed quickly, letting my hand slide down the inside of my tights to my pussy. I was so god damn wet, my fingers almost drowned in pleasure. I circled my clit and let the tips of my fingers slide up and down my entrance once in a while. When I started to moan to my touch, I sensed that it did not help Alfie at all to last any longer.

“Fuck, come here.” he whimpered and shoved me up his bed with one move. Gripping my tights and my underwear, he ripped them off of my legs, letting them fall down behind him. He laid upon me without putting any weight on me and his hands grabbed for my tits where he hungrily kneaded them. His hard cock pressed against my pussy, I moaned into his mouth while he kissed me and kept massaging my tits.

“Alfie, fuck me please.” I whined, looking into his eyes, pleading like a puppy. Putting wet, sloppy kisses on my jaw, down my neck, he moved his mouth to my breasts and took one of my nipples into his mouth with force and determination. Moans uncontrollably escaped my mouth, my legs locking his body in. He flicked his tongue over my nipple and sucked on it, just the way he knew I loved it. Frantic breaths and growls coming out of him, he was full of desire. After sucking on my other nipple as well, he lost no time going down further and putting his pretty wet lips on my clit. “Oh my god, ALFIE.” I moaned at him sucking at my bundle of nerves with perfect intensity.

I was so close to cum. I could have cum right here and there but I tried to last as long as I could. My hand tapped on his shoulder. My upper body rising up and looking at him. “Alfie, please, I beg you, put your dick inside me.”

He smiled and followed my order within seconds. My legs were wide open for him to enter and while his hands hold my waist, he shoved himself up my pussy with such an ease. Both of us moaning into the other one’s mouth. Alfie’s face turning into a pleasured, whining mess. “You feel so perfect, angel.” he moaned, his moves quickened pretty fast. Noises of skin slapping against skin filled the room. “So” “fucking” “good” Alfie panted in between harsh thrusts. My legs started to feel loose, my lower body just perfectly crashing together with his. I was in heaven as I felt my orgasm coming closer and closer.

“I’m gonna cum.” I whimpered so quiet that he could barely hear it. “Tell me I’m the only man who can make you feel this good.” he panted while his thrusts got faster. “You’re the only man who can make feel good.” I whined, I would say anything he would want to hear right now, I was all his. His movements got slower, and he heavily breathed into my face. “Tell me I am the only man who can make you cum.” “You’re the only man who can make me cum.” I moaned, saying the complete truth. “Please, Alfie, let me cum.” I whined and he chuckled. Even though he must have been close too, he still gained a little self-control back.

“Beg me to let you cum.” he ordered, and his movements almost stopped. I cried out and my hands caressed the back of his head. “Don’t play any games with me now, Mr. Solomons.” I moaned while I pushed myself more into him to get more friction and penetration.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can do it.” He teased and I sighed at him. “Please, Alfie, please! I beg you, make me cum. Please.” he was quick to release me from the agony of his tease and started thrusting into me again. Waves of an orgasm beautifully crashed in, and it was only a matter of seconds before I would cum.

“Good girl.” Alfie panted and I knew he was about to cum as well. His hand wandered to my clit and circled it in a fast, pleasuring pace. That was it. I felt my orgasm finally coming in and I let out a loud moan. Alfie growled into my neck and bit into my shoulder as he came right after me, releasing all of his warm cum inside me. He kept moaning and growling into my skin, both of us exhausted and in a blissful state.

His body was limp on mine, his mouth kissing all over my face and my neck. We laughed into each other’s faces and after a moment of silence and just looking at each other, he finally decided to get out of me. His hands caressed my skin, everywhere. He got up and helped me getting up as well. Then he took me into his arms, and I sighed into his chest. His hands went over my back, and it sent shivers down my spine. My legs still felt like butter but luckily, Alfie held me up.

“You made me really feel so so good, you can come anytime you want, even when it’s bloody 2 AM in the morning, angel.”

Part 2

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons oneshot #alfie solomons fluff #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine

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runnning-outof-time · 5 months ago

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Just One Last Present

This is for the lovely Flor @justrainandcoffee , who’s incredible OC’s - Rose Solomons - birthday is today (I’ve got roughly 30 minutes to midnight here). I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t formally attend the birthday party that she was thrown … I hope you can accept this rather late present.

Thank you for creating this wonderful woman and sharing her and Alfie’s story with us. I still can’t believe this amazing world that you’ve created around here.

Here’s to many more stories and birthdays! ❤️

Rose was thankful to finally be dressed in comfortable clothing. Sure, she enjoyed every second of the surprise party that Alfie threw her on one of her favorite beaches, but wearing a fancy dress and mask and walking around in the sand all evening had sure worn her out.

She had just lowered herself down onto the couch, right next to Cyril, who was sprawled out and already fast asleep. A soft laugh escaped her lips as she pet him gently. The pooch had had the time of his life earlier; getting many treats and compliments on his dapper attire.

She let out a sigh of content as she dropped her head back against the couch, closing her eyes and soaking in the silence. Today was a good day, she thought to herself, smiling as the events played in her mind.

She was so deep in her reverie that she didn’t hear the footsteps sounding off of the hardwood. Because of this, she just about jumped in surprise when something was set down on her lap.

“What’s this, Al?” she asked her husband, confusion now present on her face as she tried to figure out how he managed to sneak in without her noticing.

“Bet you thought my company was all I was goin’ to give you,” he answered her, a grin present on his face.

“You’ve given me plenty today,” she answered him, her heart swelling just thinking of all of the things he’d done for her over the course of the day. Alfie shook his head in disagreement, nodding to the present as a non-verbal direction for her to open it. “Really, Alfie, you have.”

“Just one last present, Rosie,” he insisted.

Rose titled her head slightly, staring at him for a moment to see if he might take the gift back. She should have known better to even think that. With a soft sigh, she accepted defeat (like it was so hard to) and looked down at the present sitting in her lap.

The wrapping was beautifully done…she almost didn’t want to open it. The pattern on it was floral and blue, and it was tied together with a big, powder blue bow on top.

“Go on, love,” Alfie softly prompted her to continue, watching intently as she began to untie the bow.

Silence hung in the air as she went about the motions of pulling away the wrapping paper. A box greeted her when she had placed the outer layer aside. It had no giveaways on it, and it made her look to her husband with furrowed brows.

Alfie gave no hints either, and it prompted her to keep going. Slowly, she lifted the lid of the box. A gasp left her lips when she discovered what was inside.

“Alfie,” she breathed, her eyes now wide, “is this…?”

“The one you were lookin’ at,” he finished her question before she could ask it.

Rose’s eyes stayed locked on the absolutely stunning diamond necklace as she tried to decipher if she was dreaming or not. She’d look at it almost every time she’d go into town, and she always wonder what it would look like draped around her neck. Now it was sitting in her lap. It was hers.

“This must’ve cost a fortune,” she commented, finally looking up at Alfie again, her eyes still wide.

“You’re worth it,” Alfie concluded, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

The widest smile formed on Rose’s face as she heard Alfie’s declaration. She haphazardly placed the box down beside her — Cyril didn’t even mind that it bonked him on the nose — and stood from the couch to wrap her arms tightly around her husband’s shoulders. “I love you, Alfie,” she breathed as happy tears formed in her eyes. “This was the best birthday I could have ever asked for.”

“I love you, Rosie,” Alfie responded, smiling at his wife as she pulled away to look at him once more. She looked so sweet, her smile nearly touching her ears as her eyes shined with tears. “Happy birthday,” he whispered one last time before leaning in and kissing her.

A happy birthday, indeed.

I decided to write this because I remembered this lovely necklace from one of the polls you shared. I hope it made sense, and that you enjoyed it!

I also realized while I was making the moodboard that one of June’s birth flowers is the rose … did that play into her name? Or was it a beautiful coincidence?

Happy Birthday, Rose!!

#alfie solomons x oc #peaky blinders x oc #alfie x rose #rose’s birthday celebration #k makes moodboards

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loulouwrites · 8 months ago

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HOME . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie comes back to a not so peaceful home warnings: unedited, pregnancy, period typical sexism, gender roles, angst, alfie isn't a very good husband but he's trying, they're a lil toxic but they're in love, swearing, slight sexual content (literally one mention of it), lmk if i missed any. word count: 3.8k

The days were too fucking long.

That's what Alfie thought as he walked through the front door, the sun had set hours hours ago, a nighttime fog clouding the dimly lit streets.

His day had been an easy one, by all accounts. He hadn't had to reprimand anybody, he had received minimal visitors in his office, and his knuckles were not bruised from where he had to smack a man for mouthing off. All in all, it had been a good day for the gangster.

Home had always been a welcome reprieve from his day job. Growing up in Camden, with no money and without a pot to piss in, he had never known the comfort of having your own home to come back to, one without the shouts of arguing neighbours coming through the walls, or black mold coming through the peeling patterned wallpaper.

Once he had finally made enough money through his multiple business ventures, he had bought a pretty house on the corner of a nice street - a street with trees that blossomed in the summer, one where the residents had time to take pride in their gardens - a truly upper class paradise.

He always thought his mother would have liked a home like this one.

It didn't come without its challenges - his neighbours would tend to cross the road when they saw him walking home, they would rush back in their houses when they saw him leaving his, even his dog was isolated from the other canine residents of the street - still, it was his home.

It was the home in which he had held his wedding reception, big enough to host the many people that came to wish him and his bride a happy life together. It was the home in which his first and second child had been born in - the first tears they cried occurring in their parents bedroom. It was the house the baby that was still growing in his wife's belly would be born in, too.

The house was different now. When he had first moved in - a single man that spent more time in his distillery than the expensive home - it had been slightly cold all the time, bare walls and empty cupboards. Now, the house was always the perfect temperature, the walls were decorated with stylish wallpaper and art he didn't understand in gold frames, there wasn't a cupboard in the house that wasn't full, perfectly organised and tidy.

It had gone from Alfie's status symbol to his family home.

It was hotter than usual when he walked through the foyer, though he didn't have time to dwell on it, the screams of his youngest child piercing his ears the second he opened the front door.

It was unusual and it made Alfie reach for the gun he always kept tucked into the back of his belt. The house was always filled with laughter when he arrived home from work, especially when he was home as early as he was now.

He crept toward the kitchen, the pained cries of his little girl getting louder with every step he took, his gun held in front of him.

"Daddy's home!"

He barely had time to register what was happening when he reached the kitchen, a harsh shove to his side sent him flying into the door frame, the gun going off and shooting a hole in the china cabinet before he even knew what was happening.

"What the fuck, Alfie?" He could barely hear his lovely wife's voice over the cries of his children. Looking to his right, his son was crouched on the floor, his hands covering his ears as he cried for his mummy.

His little girl was crying even louder now from her place on her mother's hip, her small hand gripping the woman's hair that had fallen out of her up-do.

"It was an accident," Alfie held his hands up, quickly dropping them to his side when his children cried louder at the sight of the gun in his hand, "he pushed me," he gestured to the boy that was still crouched on the floor.

"He's fucking eight years old, Alfie," his wife scoffed, rushing over to the little boy and kneeling beside him, running a hand through his hair in the comforting way only a mother was capable of.

"Stop swearing in front of the children."

"You just fired a fucking gun into the china cabinet," she shrieked, struggling to stand with the pronounced bump of her belly and child in her arms.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, tucking the gun back into his belt and running a hand over his face. "Benjamin," he held a hand out to his youngest, who had stopped crying, his face stained with tears. The young boy ignored his father, tucking himself into his mother's side, throwing a glare at the man.

Alfie sighed heavily, hands on his hips as he studied the three most important people in his life as they stood in front of him, a team that he was not on.

He was about to open his mouth and apologise when a cloud of smoke drifted over to him, stinging his eyes. He glanced to the oven, where the pot on the stove began to shake. The liquid inside bubbled furiously, its simmering turning into a violent boil. The aroma, once promising and inviting, transformed into an acrid, burning smell that hit everyone in the kitchen all at once.

"Shit," his wife spat, shoving their daughter into her father's arms carelessly before rushing to the stove, grabbing the pot with uncovered hands, and throwing it into the sink. She hissed as the pain registered, running her hands under the cold water, the skin red and angry.

"I can get these two ready for bed," he offered meekly, shrinking back slightly at the glare he received.

"Oh, how kind of you," she hissed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, turning back to the sink before anyone in the kitchen could see them fall.

Bedtimes were not Alfie's forte. He would usually arrive home after the children had been bathed and changed, just early enough to dip into their respective bedrooms and kiss them goodnight. Even when he was home, he was too tired from his day to do much more than that, leaving it to the woman that seemed to be a natural at such things.

"Bessie, please," Alfie huffed as the two year old splashed him with water. It had taken him longer than he would like to admit to even get her in the bath, her body straightening into an unbreakable line when he tried to lift her in, wriggling through his hands in a way that made him feel like he was holding the world's strongest jelly.

The little girl laughed as she continued to soak her father with bubbles, blowing them from her tiny hand in his face whenever he tried to reach over and rinse the suds from her curly hair.

He gave up eventually, hoisting her out of the bath before she knew what was happening, wrapping her in a towel and carrying her to her bedroom.

She sat on her little bed, watching him with curious eyes as grumbled to himself digging through her wardrobe trying to find a pair of pyjamas.

"Don't suppose you fancy wearing this to bed?" He held up a frilly dress he remembered her wearing to his cousins wedding, throwing it back in the drawer when she giggled at him.

"Her pyjamas are in the drawers, not the wardrobe," Benjamin's voice called from the door frame. He was stood in his nightwear, his hair still damp from his own bath.

"I knew that," Alfie scoffed, slamming the wardrobe closed and stalking over to the other side of the room, pulling open the chest of drawers less than gently.

"Second drawer, not first," Benjamin stated, and Alfie failed to recall a time he felt more judged than in this very moment. He finally located a pair of pyjamas, moving to sit on the bed next to his daughter as he began to dress her, thanking his lucky stars she seemed to have burned off most of her energy in the bath, her body floppy with tiredness.

"Mummy cried a lot today," his son said, leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed in a way that reminded Alfie too much of himself. "Bessie was being difficult."

"Bessie is two years old," the older man's eyebrows pinched together. "You were difficult too at that age." He finished dressing Bessie, gently pulling the covers back and placing her small head on the pillow as her eyes began to droop closed.

"How would you know?" Alfie's head snapped towards his son at his words.

"Excuse me?" The question was asked through gritted teeth.

"Bubbe came over," Alfie fought the urge to roll is eyes at the mention of his mother-in-law. The old cow had never liked him. "Mummy told her you were never around when I was little and you're not around now."

"Did she now?" He muttered, his fists clenching at his sides.

"Bubbe said you always have been a bad husband, and you're an even worse father."

"Now you listen right here," Alfie rose to a standing position, pointing a finger at his son, his voice quiet despite the anger he was feeling, careful not to wake the sleeping terror now tucked up in bed. "I am your father. You do not speak to me like that."

"I wish you weren't."

Alfie didn't know what to say, it was as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He had received gun shot wounds that were less painful than hearing those words come from his son's mouth. Benjamin didn't wait for a response from his father, pushing himself from the door frame and storming to his bedroom, slamming the door shut.

His eyes drifted to his daughter, now dead to the world, her long eyelashes fluttering as she dreamed of whatever two year old girls dreamed about. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, his stomach clenching as the words repeated in his head.

I wish you weren't.

She was sat at the kitchen table when he eventually made his way downstairs. The shattered glass from the china cabinet had been cleaned up, and he made a mental note to have someone come out to replace it as quickly as possible.

Her cup of tea had gone cold, but she still had her hands clasped around the delicate china.

"Your hands alright?" He asked, throwing himself down in the chair on the opposite side of the table. She hummed in response, her eyes not lifting from the kitchen table. "Is dinner ready?"

That got her attention, her narrowed eyes meeting his, and she scoffed in disbelief at his audacity. Her chair scraped against the tiled floor as she stood, stalking over to the other side of the kitchen. He kept his eyes in front of him, his hands resting on the table, not hearing her until she came up behind him, throwing the burned pot in between his hands on the table.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the silver pot that had now turned black on the bottom, before he slammed his hands down on the table, his own chair scraping as he stood up angrily.

She rolled her eyes at him, walking out of the kitchen carelessly and into the living room, her husband hot on her heels. It was as if he wasn't there, the way she strolled into the room and sat on the dark blue velvet sofa, crossing her legs as if she were about to pick up a book.

The living room was always his favourite room of the house. It was warm and inviting, a room that had been filled with so much laughter and happiness. Now, it felt like the coldest room in the house.

"The fuck have I done now?" Alfie stood in front of her, hands on his hips and chest puffed out, ready for a fight.

"Besides shoot at me and your daughter?" She raised a brow, it could almost come across as playful to someone who didn't know her as well as he did.

"Fuck off," he sneered. "You were nowhere near."

"The bullet went right over my head, Alfie."

"I've shot a gun in this house several times - I know you're not upset about that."

"Aren't I a lucky lady?" She shook her head, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

"Fuck-"

"Tell me to fuck off one more time," she rose up from her seat on the sofa, poking a manicured finger in his chest.

"Tell me what I've fucking done, then," he tried to grab her wrist, but she shook it out of his grasp, taking a step to the side to avoid his reach.

"Nothing, Alfie," she groaned, running her hands through her hair. "You've done absolutely nothing."

Alfie Solomons was not a stupid man, nor was he ignorant to a woman's tone. He knew exactly what she was implying with her words, and it did nothing to stop the anger that was bubbling in his stomach, creeping up his chest, and out of his mouth.

"For fuck's sake, woman," he shouted, his anger growing when she turned her back to him, beginning to leave the room. "I do fuckin' everythin' to provide for you and this family, and you sit there with your fuckin' feet up, tellin' me I do fuckin' nothing."

She spun back around at his words, "keep your fucking voice down, the kids are asleep."

"Yeah, I know," he offered an exaggerated smile, "I put them to bed while you sat down here drinking fucking tea."

He could see in her eyes that she wanted to slap him, and in his anger, he wanted her to.

Just give me a fucking reason.

But she didn't, she barely acknowledged him, leaving the room and walking up the stairs. When Benjamin had been born, they had both agreed arguments occurred downstairs when he was asleep. Neither of them were naive enough to think they would never have fights - both outspoken and stubborn by nature - and they had honoured that agreement for the past eight years.

But not tonight.

Alfie stormed out of the living room, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up with her. He pushed the door to their bedroom open, finding her stood there with her arms held out, a pillow and blanket in them, offering them to him wordlessly. He grabbed them out her hands, throwing them to floor without a word.

He couldn't count how many times she had rolled her eyes this evening.

"It's that fucking woman again, isn't it?" He spoke finally, and she breathed deeply at his words.

"Alfie, my mother has nothing to do with it."

"Really? Because every time she pops in you suddenly have a problem with me."

Alfie's feud with his mother-in-law predated his relationship with his wife. The woman had never liked him, her lips would purse whenever she saw him at a mutual friend's wedding, she would glare at him in the street when she was walking home from the market.

When she found out he had been fucking her only daughter, she had gone ballistic, and they had shared a mutual dislike for each other for decades now.

"Don't be ridiculous, Alfie. She hasn't even been around today."

"Oh, really?" He crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips, and the way she avoided his face confirmed she was lying. “She didn't pop round, call me a bad father in front of my fucking son?"

His wife's brows furrowed at his words, her mouth opening and closing around words she couldn't speak.

"Let me tell ya, I don't give a shit what you and that woman talk about," he stalked towards her, every step forward matched with a step back from her. "But if she comes 'round, bad mouthin' me in front of my children again - poisoning their minds against me, me and you are goin' to have a big fucking problem."

"'Poisoning their minds?" she sneered. "You think they need my mother to do that?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"You think she's the reason your son fucking hates you?" He took a step back at her words, Benjamin's words from earlier ringing in his ears.

I wish you weren't.

"You're never fucking here, Alfie. Benjamin spends more time with Bessie than you do, he's the one who has to take her when I'm sick all morning, he's the one who sees how hard it is for me. Not you. You're always at work, even when you're home."

Alfie was floored by her words. He thought back to hours ago, when he was walking through his door with a smile on his face, ready to have dinner with his wife and go and kiss his children goodnight. How did the evening get away from him so much?

"Well he shouldn't have to do that," he spoke eventually, his voice softer.

"No, he shouldn't," she agreed, reaching to touch his shoulder gently. "But he feels like he has to-"

"Why are you making him do all that?"

Her hand dropped from his shoulder heavily, moving to place it on her chest in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

"He's a boy. You're his mother, you shouldn't be makin' him pick up your slack because you're not feeling up to it," her eyes widened at his words, tears pooling in the corners. "I mean, what kind of mother are you?"

"I...I..." The words wouldn't come for her, as if they were getting caught in her throat. She stopped trying in the end, nodding at his words and sniffing quietly. "I'm going to sleep with Bessie tonight."

He didn't try to stop her from leaving.

It was nearing 9 o'clock when he knocked on Benjamin's door, stepping in before the boy had a chance to say anything. He knew he wouldn't be asleep, his son - like him - was a night owl by nature, staying up until the early hours of the morning.

He was sat up in bed when his father walked in, reading a book in the dim light of his bedroom. He reminded Alfie so much of his mother.

"I talked to mum," Alfie said, closing the door gently behind him, lingering in the room as if he were a stranger.

"I heard," Benjamin said, closing his book.

"I'm sorry," the words felt wrong on his tongue, he had never been one to apologise to anybody. "I know mum asks a lot of you, but you shouldn't feel like-"

"Mum doesn't as a lot of me," the young boy interrupted, shaking his head in protest.

"Benny, I know you think you have to defend her-"

"I don't. Mum never asks me to do anything. I like helping her, someone has to."

That feeling in Alfie's stomach returned, the twisting pain in his gut, it seemed his son was determined to kill him tonight.

"Today, Bessie wasn't feeling well and neither was mum, Bessie wouldn't stop crying and mum was being sick and then bubbe came over and kept telling mum the house was too messy and Bessie wasn't dressed properly and when she left mum kept crying."

"I get it's hard, but everyone has hard days, Benny."

"Not mum. She told bubbe she's scared to have the baby because she doesn't know if she can handle three alone. Mum's never been scared before."

"She said that?" Alfie asked, his voice breaking slightly and Benjamin nodded in confirmation.

"I lied before," Benjamin told his father, ducking his head in shame. "Mum didn't say anything bad about you. Only bubbe did. Mum said you were doing your best."

And just like that, the animosity Alfie held towards his wife disappeared, replaced by a shame he had never felt before . He had stolen, betrayed and killed, and yet, he had never felt worse than how he felt in this very moment.

"Thanks for tellin' me the truth," there wasn't much else he could say. "Now go to bed, it's late." He opened the door to leave when Benjamin called out to him.

"I lied too. I'm glad you're my dad."

"So am I, son."

Alfie leaned against the closed door, his eyes on the one opposite him. His hand reached for the doorknob but he pulled it back before he touched it, making his way to his empty bedroom.

The sunlight crept in from the cracks in the curtains, bleeding into the bedroom, casting the pink floral wallpaper in an orange hue. She reached over for the little girl that had slept by her side the whole night, finding the spot next to her empty, the sheets cold beneath her hands.

"Fuck," she muttered to herself, pulling herself out of bed with a struggle, the growing bump making it harder to move every day.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she kept muttering, rushing down the stairs. She had overslept and her two year old daughter was probably missing. It felt like she cried more often than not lately, tears spilled from her eyes as she glanced in the empty living room before rushing to the kitchen.

She released a breath she didn't know she was holding when she entered, seeing Bessie sat in her highchair, laughing in delight at a piece of toast.

"Mornin," she approached the kitchen table apprehensively, the sight of her husband and children sat there, already dressed and eating breakfast with smiles on their faces, not feeling real. "We made toast, know that's all you've been able to keep down lately," her husband told her, standing up to pull out a chair for her. She took it with a smile.

"Aren't you needed at work?" She asked, nodding a thanks as he poured her a cup of tea.

"I am," Alfie nodded, "but Ollie can deal with it, I've given him strict orders I am not to be disturbed today."

"Alfie," she shook her head in protest. She didn't want this, for him to feel obligated to be here, for him to take over her duties in the home.

"None of that," he stopped her spiralling. "They can manage without me for a few days until we figure out something."

She smiled gratefully at him. She knew he understood, she didn't need him there all the time, she just needed a break.

"I also spoke to your mum," her brows raised at his words. The only time Alfie had spoken to her mother voluntarily was when he rang her to call her a dozy cow before hanging up without another word. "She's going to come over more, take the kids out, pick Benny up from school and all that."

"Thank you." She reached out to take his hand on the table, linking their hands together, squeezing in appreciation.

"Just don't expect breakfast everyday, that toaster is a fuckin' nightmare."

thanks for reading. i enjoyed writing and am considering making a lil series of this family so lmk if that's something you'd like to see!

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons

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hoteldreamss · 1 month ago

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Alfie Solomons || imagine

Метки: магия (магический реализм); приворот; немного dark!Alfie

Слов: 1 068

Алфи не верит в магию, даже если является немного суеверным человеком. Он верующий, что ещё больше вызывает чувство вины, когда он стучится в незнакомую дверь. Дом, адрес которого ему дал Шелби, выглядит весьма ухожено, никто бы не сказал, что здесь живёт женщина занимающаяся магией. Конечно, это она так утверждает, но люди продолжают ходить к ней, говоря, что она помогает. Алфи проклинает Томми и себя, как он мог вообще подумать, что это хорошая идея, как он мог дойти до того, что забрёл в незнакомый район и надеется, что его просьбу исполнят.

Он раньше не был в этом месте, даже если знал о нём. Ему просто не приходилось посещать эти улицы, и он не хочет, чтобы кто-нибудь застал его здесь.

Дверь после пары стуков наконец открывается. Женщина кажется старше Алфи, смотрит на него заинтересованно, и уже знает кто перед ней.

— Я звонил вам, мисс...

— Корнуолл. Проходите, мистер Соломонс. — Она пропускает его в дом.

Алфи проходит в небольшой и тёмный коридор.

Женщина ведёт его дальше, по освещённым тёплым светом ламп комнатам. Уже поздний вечер, и не удивительно, что в доме потребовался дополнительный свет. Алфи лишь немного удивляется обстановке вокруг, нет никаких излишних странных атрибутов, а леди пустившая его не похожа на ведьму, которой её именуют. Аккуратная, ухоженная, немного загорелая кожа, подведённые глаза, как и у большинства женщин по нынешней моде, фиолетовая блуза и длинная тёмная юбка, скрывающая ботинки явно с викторианской эпохи.

— Вы принесли, что я просила? — интересуется она проходя в комнату, просторную, но заставленную всякий мелочовкой.

— Да, конечно. Я совершенно не чувствовал себя глупо делая это. — Алфи достаёт твой браслет. Явно не самый дорогой, но кажется имеющий огромную ценность для тебя, учитывая как ты нервничала, когда не смогла его найти. Он чувствовал себя подлецом, делая вид, что ему не известно, где твоё украшение. — Совершенно нормально воровать у девушки, верно? Вы всех заставляете это делать?

— Только тех, кто желает любовной магии. — Она забирает браслет, завёрнутый в белый платок и приступает к своим магическим делам.

Алфи не хочет находиться здесь слишком долго, даже не уверенный, что его время стоит этого. Но он отчаялся. Это не то, что он считает правильным, но это то, что у него осталось. Он ходил вокруг тебя несколько месяцев, ты не обращала внимание ни на что. Ты отвергала его ухаживания, его подарки, его признания, приглашения. Ты дала ему ясно понять, что не желаешь ни его сердца, ни его статуса, ни его финансов. Он даже надеялся подкупить тебя выгодным браком, но ничего не работало. Алфи на самом деле чувствует себя беспомощным. Ему хотелось оставить это, суметь проиграть достойно, но он не смог, особенно когда ты мая��ишь перед его лицом каждый рабочий день.

— Что-нибудь ваше? — интересуется женщина, повернувшись к нему, и тогда Соломонс может увидеть пару склянок на небольшом столике, засушенные растения, должно быть полевая трава, и открытая уже старая книга.

Алфи отдаёт свою золотую печатку, которую он носил на мизинце после возвращения с войны. Ведьма возвращается к своему заклинанию, стоя спиной к Сломонсу и убивая его ожиданием.

Когда мисс Корнуолл разворачивается, то держит в руках небольшой пузырёк, прозрачный, из-за чего можно видеть алую жидкость. Это похоже на вино, но более красное, нежели бардовое.

— Дайте ей это выпеть. Не важно как. — Она передаёт Алфи бутыль и выглядит не так взволновано как её гость. — Верните ей браслет, главное наденьте на её руку сами.

***

Алфи наблюдает за тобой, пока ты пьёшь свой чай, сидя за столом и почти не обращая внимание на своего начальника. Он почёсывает своё бороду, не способный оторвать от тебя взгляд. Соломонс не может сказать, что именно его привлекло в тебе, и он так и не знает, что тебя отталкивает от него из раза в раз, заставляя игнорировать бедного мужчину и не желая принимать его ухаживания.

Но теперь это не имело никакого значения. Алфи всё ещё не уверен, сработает ли заклинание, но он не тот человек, который не попробует. Если есть хотя бы мизерный шанс, он им воспользуется.

Браслет уже на твоей руке, и ты даже не улыбнулась, когда Соломонс отдал его тебе, сказав, что кто-то из его людей нашёл твоё украшение здесь, в пекарне.

— Дорогая, как насчёт того, чтобы уйти после обеда? — он делает вид, что предлагает тебе, а не отдаёт требование. Ты знаешь, что Алфи никогда бы не стал обращаться с тобой так же, как с мужчинами в его пекарни. Ты его секретарша, одна из немногих женщин в этом месте, и Соломонс оберегает тебя, ты чувствуешь это. Он пытался уволить тебя, невольно сберечь от того мира, в котором живёт. Но оказалось, что уволить человека не так легко, а тебе нравилась работа его секретаря и оплата за эту работу.

— Но, у вас встречи после обеда. Разве мне не нужно присутствовать? — интересуешься ты, хотя уже готова согласиться уйти.

— Нет. Можешь быть свободна, займись своими делами, ладно? Да, у тебя наверняка есть дела поважнее, чем терпеть сальные комментарии моих посетителей и записывать наш разговор.

— Хорошо, мистер Соломонс, — произносишь ты, отставлять пустую чашку и возвращаясь к работе.

— Алфи, дорогая, я уже просил тебя, верно?

— Да, Алфи, — произносишь ты, поджав губы, воздерживаясь от оговорок.

Соломонс не замечает никаких изменяй в твоём поведении.

Ты спокойна, прощаешься с ним после обеда и уходишь из пекарни.

***

Алфи смотрит на тебя с подозрением, когда ты заходишь в кабинет.

— Доброе утро, Алфи. — На твоём лице расцветает улыбка.

Обычно ты не такая дружелюбная и милая с ним. Может дело было в твоём отношении к нему или в желании соблюдать границы, быть профессионалом, и ты всегда сохраняла серьёзность. Соломонс не может точно знать причины твоей холодности по отношению к нему, но видеть тебя такой радостной, будто ты светишься от счастья, доставляет ему огромное удовольствие.

— Доброе, красавица. Ты кажешься весёлой, что-то порадовало тебя уже с утра, не так ли? — интересуется Алфи, стараясь звучать как можно более непринуждённо.

— Нет, просто хорошее настроение. У тебя нет? — Это кажется в первые, когда ты интересуешься у него о чём-то не связанным с работой. Обычно ты даже не спрашивала у него как дела, ради приличия.

— О, моё настроение стало определённо лучше после того, как я увидел тебя, дорогая. Верно, ты всегда радуешь мои уже старые глаза.

Ты хихикаешь, заваривая себе горячий напиток, и делая за одно порцию для Алфи.

— Ты не такой уж и старый, — произносишь ты, кинув взгляд на Соломонса.

Он чувствует как уголки его губ слабо поднялись вверх. Алфи уверен, что поход к ведьме оправдал себя полностью. Он знает, что заплатил немало, в конце концов услуга от Алфи Соломонса это не просто пара крупных купюр, это намного серьёзнее и ценнее. Как и его желания. Алфи просто не может избавиться от того, чего хочет.

#imagine #русский imagine #imagine на русском #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie x reader #alfie solomons #alfie imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #tom hardy imagine

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tickettride · 2 months ago

Text

Like real people do

Alfie Solomons x Fem!OC

[warnings: war trauma, slight violence, OC is getting followed by a creep, cursing, angst, mentions of death.

AN: I wrote this first chapter weeks ago when I still had no idea where this would lead, and it's surely the most cliché of all. I really, really love it though. I hope you do too.]

— one

May 1928, London

The contact of your palm against the man’s jaw echoed through the silent street, louder than the pigeon's fluttering wings as it startled into flight. You froze for a second, not quite believing you had really slapped a stranger—though he deserved it—and suddenly took off, running like you had never done before across the slippy cobblestones. Your heart threatened to burst out of your chest, but you didn’t stop. With one glance behind, you cursed when you saw his short frame getting closer, racing behind you.

He’d get you and do more than call you a whore, wouldn’t he? The mere thought made you stumble over your feet when you took a sharp turn, nearly falling face down into a puddle.

“You fuckin’ bitch!”

A whimper escaped your throat. It felt like you were merely running anymore, just taking large steps that would be enough to get you killed, one hand holding your hat on top of your head. There was only one solution left if you wanted to escape the man: burst through the first door you found and try to hide. The sun was setting already; now wasn’t the right moment to get lost.

And burst through a random door you did. You slammed it behind you with trembling hands, the back of your head thudding against the wood as you leaned against it.

It was only when you opened your eyelids that you saw the men standing across the room, visibly interrupted. You couldn’t discern their faces due to the lack of light, but you knew you had cut into something important anyway.

A faint smell of alcohol lingered in the air, but you didn’t focus on that. You stared at the shadows crammed between barrels, gasping breaths as you tried to think of what to do. Open the door again and head out, where the other one was waiting? Pretend you were lost?

“You are…?”

Flinching at the voice addressing you, you licked your lips nervously and cleared your throat.

“Lost,” you said, which made the shorter man scoff.

“Clearly.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you added, your left hand growing closer to the doorknob where freedom might await you if you were lucky enough.

Though you knew you were trapped in here too, and luck was a foreign concept. It made no doubt when the tallest one limped over to you, his burly frame causing you to swallow down any other stupid word that might come out.

Your heartbeat quickened as he stopped in front of you, staring down at your face like you were nothing but a lost deer. He was a large man, and in all honesty, his white shirt did nothing to conceal the musculature of his chest.

You’d never been so troubled by another human being before, and yet here you were. Or perhaps once, long ago. Love at first sight didn’t exist in this world, but you were close to it. Yet, there was something so… familiar to him, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. Some… feeling at second sight, that was. His eyes reminded you of something long forgotten.

“Fuckin’ hell," he turned around to his friend, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Is she any of yours, Tommy?”

God, that voice. It would command an entire squadron.

“What use would she be to me?” the other, Tommy, replied from his spot.

His sharp features had you staring a second too long. He looked almost bored, though, not half as interested as the one leaning closer to your face.

“Who are you?” the tall one demanded, his sweaty warmth coasting over you.

“I–” you started, trailing off when you thought about the shitty position you were in. “Look, I’ll just go home and we’ll forget about this, alright? I’ve made a mistake coming here. It's on me."

A boisterous knock on the door had you sauntering further away. Fuck. It could only be that arsehole you had managed to leave behind.

Your gaze slowly traveled back to the tall man, whose bearded chin gave a persuasive jerk toward the door.

“Right then. Go home, love.”

After a long hesitation, your feet led you back to the front of the door. No matter how much you willed yourself to open it, you were terrified at the idea of meeting the creep again. It was easy for them, doing whatever business they had in a safe and slightly scary storage building, while women like you had to physically reject men’s advances. You bet they even found it funny. Could they not guess you'd sacrificed yourself for men all those years ago, only to get this as a payback? You’d open the door and run until your lungs threatened to explode. And then? Where even were you?

“Fuckin’ knew it,” the marked accent spoke behind you, as if detecting your inner turmoil. “That was in your plans, wasn’t it?”

Spinning on your heels, you opened your mouth to repeat it was just a mistake, but the other man cut you off. Better to keep your mouth shut, then.

“I don’t know the girl, Alfie,” the second one shot a glance at you, clearly unwilling to help if needed.

“You don’t?” that Alfie said, his tone warm as honey as your hand tightened against the doorknob.

Did he really think you’d come all this way to spy on him? How stupid was that?

Think, damn it! His name was not so foreign.

Maybe this was your way out. Alfie. You’d met three during the war, but they had probably left this world by now, carried off by grief or their mental and physical wounds.

“Maybe our new friend is going give us a fuckin’ clue at some point, yeah?” he nearly spat in your face, seizing your arm.

Rough but warm. That’s when it clicked.

“Captain Solomons,” you breathed out, allowing yourself to slightly relax.

He wouldn't hurt you.

Yet, you felt slightly wounded by his lack of response, watching his breath get heavier like the two words had shot him once again. This time, no piercing cry filled the hospital tent. You bet it was as painful, though.

“Sadie Murray, sir," you removed the hat from your head, hoping the face reveal would have some sort of softening effect on the situation. "I reckon I’ve stitched you up a couple of years ago.”

Holding out your hand, you tried desperately to reach for a white flag, only met with Solomons’ blank stare. So you lowered your arm, taking a step backward instead–as much as you could, as you were now leaning against the door. Something flashed in Solomon’s eyes as he visibly realized something, too. He scrutinized you longer, examining every controlled breath, the flutter of your lashes, and the details of your cheeks.

Your heart drummed erratically with each passing second. Not all memories were good to be reminded of.

“Leave us now, Shelby,” Alfie’s voice suddenly filled the room, making you flinch.

Tommy released a strained sigh. “Not until we agree on my terms.”

The staring contest between the two men was ridiculous. It was only when a door opened in the back of the building, sunlight flooding the room, that you recognized the second man as well. The name Shelby now rang a bell. You remembered all the stories you’d heard about him–and judging by the meeting that had occurred just a few minutes prior, you could only suppose Mr Solomons was not someone you'd want to associate with either. It was too late to think of the consequences now anyway.

You had no time to slip through the doorway, as swift as you were. Despite being focused on Shelby, Solomon’s hand had grasped you even tighter, not one look shot in your direction. Instinct and panic overtook you instantly as you tried to wiggle out of his grip. The fucker was strong.

“Let me go!” you hissed, ignoring Shelby’s sardonic snort a few feet away.

“No,” Alfie Solomons’s eyes met yours again, and you hated that amused spark in his eyes. “You, Mrs Murray, are stayin’ with me. We’re gonna have a short conversation, yeah?”

You couldn’t believe a conversation with him would ever be ‘short’ anyway. You’d experienced it once. The hours spent talking about everything that came to your mind. He’d been a different man then. Not the frightening… hot as hell kind of man. You barely recognised him, and the contrast hurt. Who had you loved?

“Don’t touch me,” you pushed against his chest in one last effort, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "We can talk without you locking me up, can't we?"

A few heads popped out from nowhere, curiously gazing at the reason you were shouting. Clearly, no one else was going to get you out of here.

Andrew wouldn’t come. Whether he was at the theatre or the pub–if you believed what he told you–he would tell you to stop being paranoid. He was quite right, deep down. You really were.

“Bye, Tommy. Fuck off, Tommy,” Solomons almost chanted, walking away, and you had no choice but to follow.

And that hallway was fucking endless. Where was the end of it? Why did the men stop moving every time Solomons walked past them? He was like a hurricane. Not even his slowed movements made him any less intimidating.

You remembered him telling you about a bakery one day, but the memory was as hazy as the rest, and it had sounded less… important, coming from his mouth. You'd imagined a small family-owned shop, not an entire dark building where men stored bottles.

After what felt like forever, still clutching your arm like his life depended on it, Solomons walked up a narrow flight of stairs. He hollered something about flour to a young lad and finally pushed open a door. A new wave of panic flooded you as you studied the room that featured a single window, a disorderly desk, and dark wooden furniture. You wished you knew how to compliment one's office, but you lingered on the threshold, already picturing him hitting you, or… shooting you, or anything you could think of.

“Take a seat.”

His tone could have been mistaken for welcoming, but you were on watch. Raising your gaze to his, you slightly narrowed your eyes in wariness and checked that no one was standing behind you.

“Have you become deaf by any chance, Miss Murray?” Solomons’ voice, though sweet once, became harsher.

An odd thumping began in your chest as he stepped in your direction, as though he wouldn’t be afraid to throw you on the armchair himself.

“Don’t touch me,” you repeated before you could even think, feeling his inquisitive gaze on your back as you went to sit down shakily. "I'm sitting down."

The leather of the armchair reeked of alcohol.

Solomons headed to a small wooden cabinet behind his desk, pouring himself a drink while taking all his time. You stared at his back and every move he made, knowing where it hurt and when the random shootings of pain likely occurred. Others would never know about it; you knew he was too full of himself to admit he was weakened. But you did know, in a deeper way, and it felt like a secret only the both of you shared.

Checking the golden liquid in the light, Solomons turned around to have a look at you. Like he was weighing the pros and cons of having you here against your will.

But once again, what could you threaten him with? Reveal to everyone he had killed that Italian man eleven years ago with that nail up his nose? What was scary about that? They’d probably seen worse, all of them.

“I hadn’t recognized you at first,” Solomons broke your frantic train of thought, settling comfortably across the desk. “Must be the hair.”

“What can I say?" you mumbled, the phrase painfully shy. "War changes people, doesn't it?”

He made a sound in his throat. “War, huh? Hope you were a bit bolder there.”

The irony of it all.

“You’ve seen it with your own eyes, haven’t you? I didn’t really have a choice.”

The corner of his lips tugged, taking his beard along with it. “I do remember, yeah. Fierce little thing you were.”

You scoffed softly at that, looking down at your hands resting on your lap. Red and orange streetlights blurred beyond the windows, adding to the warm light coming off his lamp desk. It felt like a completely different world here.

“You didn’t seem so cruel back there, M. Solomons.”

“War changes people, right,” he slouched in his seat, so damn intimidating. Definitely a different man. “I’d be dead if I weren’t cruel, as you say.”

It sounded silly. You couldn’t believe a baker had to be cruel to survive. If he had ever been, that was.

Talking about death.

“Well, most of them did leave this world after you left,” you muttered, willing yourself to speak a bit louder. You weren’t sure why you were coaxing him into feeling the weight of the aftermath, but it was the only thing you could think of. The only thing you’d wish to confess about after he was gone, when no one was willing to listen. “Thought you’d… I didn’t think you’d made it back to England, actually.”

“Didn’t think I’d make it either.”

Glancing up, you met Alfie’s gaze and it was suddenly clearer. As if the bombs were still exploding near you, and the ground was still shaking. You saw his face then. The fear had wrinkled his face, and that brown vest made him look older. Just like you, you supposed. Beneath that beard, he probably thought he’d been reduced to nothing more than a veteran.

You knew he was so much more, even remembered all his layers, but what good would it be finding all about it again? Eleven years had passed. He had moved on, just like you had.

Shutting your eyes close for a second, you tried to get a hold of yourself, rubbing your eyes. If Alfie wasn’t willing to speak, then maybe you could fill the silence and gently ask him to let you go home.

“I–I have trouble. Remembering faces. Um… They call that dissociative amnesia. Whatever that means. I’m not… I’m not so bold anymore, you see.”

“But you remember me, yeah? You do.”

At that, your heart beat a little faster. All his focus was directed at you. The centre of his world for a minute, like he had been yours during the fights.

“There are things I find rather memorable. Some faces.”

“Memorable, eh?” Alfie leaned forward on his seat, resting his elbows on his legs. “I could say the same about you. I’ve dreamt of you stitching me up more than I can count, you know. Almost shot myself to see you again."

Your soft chuckle pulled another smile to your lips. Now filled with deep feelings of sorrow and sheepishness, you could only think of crying in bed. God, that day couldn’t get stranger.

"I'm done stitching people up," you admitted, holding his gaze. "Now I deliver babies."

Alfie nodded slowly. "A midwife, right?"

A gentle smile curved your mouth. "Yes, sir."

"Yeah, I always knew you'd end up doing something like this."

Alfie's lips twitched with something you thought was pride, filling the void in your stomach with so much warmth.

You hadn’t meant to get so defensive and hysterical so fast, but he’d been scary as hell, hadn’t he? It was hard to find the balance between the two personalities now. In the mayhem of it all, you didn’t know what to believe, and whose face to talk to. One thing was sure, Alfie had not forgotten about you.

#alfie solomons #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy shelby

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