#Alfie solomons x oc

[followsfrankiep]

Haunted (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Chapter 8 - Gods & Debts

TW: Smut, Explicit Words, Oral Sex, Mentions of substance abuse and alcoholism, etc.

Word count: 6.8k

A/N: OKAY. THEY'RE BACK. My og babies! Let me just tell you that this is MY favorite chapter of this series. Can't say the best but my FAVE for a reason. You may read this, if you're interested to know why, even if you haven't read the first 7 chapters. Letting u know that the word 'love' is overused in this chapter bc come onnnnn they deserve it after everything that happened.

Previous chapter

It had been a couple of weeks since the harrowing night when Alfie had rescued Izzy. The first few days were the toughest, Alfie had been tirelessly taking care of her, ensuring she had everything she needed to heal. He made sure her wounds were cleaned and cared for, gently icing the bruises that painted her skin, making sure she was eating, and always—always—being there when she needed him. When he was needed at the bakery, he reluctantly left her under the care of Ollie, not wanting to leave her alone, thinking she might do something to hurt herself.

She was slowly recovering, both physically and emotionally. Her bruises were fading, and her cuts were starting to heal, but the emotional scars ran deep. She often found herself lost in thought, her mind replaying the events of that night and Alfie would feel his chest ache at the sight. It ate away at him, the fact that there was something weighing on Izzy that he couldn’t fix with his own hands. Alfie wasn’t used to feeling helpless since he always found a way but, this was different. It was something he couldn’t touch, something he couldn’t fix with his hands no matter how badly he wanted to. One way he tried to help was by keeping her occupied. He wasn't wrong. He brought her to his office, claiming he needed her help sorting out some paperwork. Of course, they both knew he could manage it himself, but it wasn’t about the work—it was about giving her a moment to breathe, to focus on something other than her dark state of mind.

During the day, it seemed to help, even if just a little. Alfie couldn’t help but feel a flicker of relief as Izzy settled into work, her pen moving across the scattered papers on his desk. That desk had always been his, a space that felt almost sacred, but now, sharing it with her, didn’t bother him at all. If anything, it gave him a sense of ease. The way her brow furrowed in thought, the faint concentration on her face—these were glimpses of the young woman he knew and loved.

But she wasn’t completely lost in her distractions. Even as she scribbled away, she always seemed to know when Alfie’s temper was about to boil over. When one of his men fumbled or said something that ticked him off, her hand would slip across the desk to catch his. She’d give his hands a squeeze, her eyes never leaving the papers in front of her. It was her way of calming him down. And somehow, it worked every time.

She was still his Izzy.

But the evenings were the hardest. On the ride home, the quiet would envelop them, slowly slipping back into that dark place. At night, she’d lie with her back to him, and he’d find himself staring at her silhouette, feeling the urge to reach out and in the end, he always held back with his hand retreating. On the nights when he realized she was still awake, he’d slip out of bed without a word. Downstairs, he’d warm a glass of milk, and she’d take it with that faint, warm smile of hers. It wasn’t much, but in those moments, he felt like he was doing something.

And for now, that had to be enough.

Alfie Solomons was over the moon having the love of his life back in his arms, though it was hard to say who was more relieved—him or his bakers. The men practically sighed in unison when they saw her strolling beside their boss again, muttering silent prayers of thanks to any god that might be listening. The prodigal bear tamer had returned.

Sunday morning. They just had breakfast and Izzy barely touched hers. She just finished her coffee and excused herself to have a breather at their porch. It wasn't long until Alfie smelled the smoke of what he called "cancer sticks" from where she was sitting.

Ain't fucking eating, just coffee and cigarettes in the morning. He thought, and made his way back to the kitchen.

He muttered to himself as he sliced up yet another round her daily fruit. "Right, apples, bananas… universal fucking medicine, innit? Fruit fixes everything, they say. Fucking Jack Nelson's lucky to be rotting under ground, yet my woman's out there, sulking and staring. Hell, I can’t take it anymore."

He put his pearing knife down a clatter, and stormed out onto the porch, the plate of fruit in his hands like it held the answers to every problem in the world. "Toss that fuckin' thing away, love," he began, "this ends now. You’re gonna eat these bloody fruits, and we’re not arguin’ about it."

Izzy blinked at him, her cigarette resting lazily in the ashtray beside her, picking up an apple slice, and popping it in her mouth. "Here, I’m eating. You happy now?"

She did not have any energy to argue with this old yapper right now so she fully obliged with what he said. He's had enough taking care of her anyway.

"Better." he replied, plunking himself down next to her on the bench. His intense gaze settled on her, studying the bruises fading across her arms and the cut that was healing on her cheek. "Talk to me, love."

Whatever is going on inside her mind was driving him nuts as well. Izzy sighed, her fingers brushing against the edge of the ashtray as she avoided his gaze. "It’s not that simple, Alfie," she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "I had a plan, you know? A way to get out of this shit of a life I was born into. But now… now it’s all fucked and stuck. I can’t move forward, and I can’t go back. I’ve been away from Birmingham for so long, I don’t even know how to return."

Alfie can't believe what he just heard. It infuriates him knowing that she was still considering going back to that shit hole. His grip on the plate of fruit firming as he processed her words. "Birmingham?" he repeated with evident disbelief.

"You’re not seriously thinkin’ about goin’ back to those fuckin’ Shelbys, are you? After everything that happened—after everything we’ve been through?"

"I have to," she shot back, her dark eyes finally meeting his. "I’m almost done, Alfie. I’ve been working on this for a long time, and I can’t just walk away now. I need to finish what I started."

Alfie’s expression darkened and growled. "And then what, eh? You finish your master plan, and then what? You leave? Go back to Brooklyn? Is that it, Izzy? You just fuckin' pack up and go?"

She didn’t answer and looked away. Alfie’s chest clenched at the thought of losing her again. She already slipped out of his hands when she was just in Small Heath, now there's a probability he might not see her again if she goes back home to America. He set the plate of fruit down on the empty space beside him, his hands reached for hers.

"Don’t do this," he said softly, his head tilting as his brows pulled together, and his sharp blue eyes searched hers. "Don’t leave me again. I just got you back, love. Whatever this plan of yours is, whatever you think you need to do—it’s ain't more important than what we have, yeah? It can’t be."

Izzy’s gaze softened, her fingers curling around his as she let out a shaky breath. She was not expecting him to be vulnerable at this moment.

"Alfie," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Y—"

"Camden is your home, love," he murmured, his voice breaking. "Don’t go."

Alfie Solomons.

If you’d asked her a few months ago what mattered most, she wouldn’t have hesitated—her plan was everything, her purpose, the reason why she went to Birmingham. Now, it was different. The thought of being away from the man in front of her was a pain she couldn’t face. People live on borrowed time, and unfortunately, the two of them are trapped in the scarcity of it. She's decided she would rather spend what little time she had in this world with Alfie than waste it chasing something that no longer felt as important.

Her plan did matter, but Alfie Solomons mattered more.

Izzy's fingers tightened around his and her dark eyes searching his face as if trying to find the words she couldn’t quite say. It was him who plead her to stay, and for a moment, she felt the storm inside her quiet just enough to let something else through.

Without a word, she leaned forward, her free hand brushing lightly against his beared as she pressed her lips to his softly, but as Alfie’s hand came up to cradle the back of her head, the kiss deepened, feeling him nibble on her lower lip gently. When she pulled back, her eyes fluttered shut, and she rested her forehead against his, her body and mind calming down. His fingers running through her locks and, his own breathing uneven as he poured every feeling he's been holding back in that kiss.

"You’re alright... We’re alright. Just stay with me, yeah?"

"Okay," she whispered and swallowed hard, nodding as her lips found his again, this time slower, steadier, as if sealing her promise. "Okay, Alfie."

Alfie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his grip on her hands firm but gentle. His other thumb brushed over her knuckles, and he closed his eyes, letting the relief wash over him. He pulled her closer, his arms enveloping around her. "Alright, love. You’re mine, yeah? No more runnin’ off. Just you and me." he said, kissing the top of her head.

"Now finish your fruit." He added.

-

The absence of Isobel Russo did not go unnoticed—least of all by Michael Gray.

It was Finn who had last seen her, slipping into the car of a stranger they later identified as none other than Jack Nelson. But under the terms of the agreement struck between Alfie and Tommy, the latter was tasked with keeping things in line. Like it or not, every member of the Shelby family was forced to move forward with business as usual.

Yet, as ever, that was far easier said than done.

Polly, ever the matriarch, found herself at war within her own home. Michael, consumed by rage and desperation, had taken to wrecking anything within arm’s reach, his frustration boiling over into self-destruction. It fell to Polly to drag him to work, forcing him to focus on business and away from the growing anguish of his girlfriend’s disappearance. It was an uphill battle. With his emotions spiraling unchecked and his worsening addiction, Michael was slipping further into an abyss no one seemed able to reach. Maybe it was his guilt and conscience, but her words from their last fight about her coming to Small Heath for him kept replaying on his mind, and now she's gone. He knew they were not okay, and he even asked her to consider mending their relationship.

Did she leave? Or was she taken away? Is she dead or alive?

Arthur was aware of Alfie’s involvement that night, he saw how he chased after Izzy speaking with Finn and him. Upon hearing this, Michael stormed to Camden to question him.

Arriving in his bakery, Michael bursted the door open in fury. The Alfie remained seated at his desk, leaning back in his chair with his fingers intertwined together, watching the scene unfold. His eyes flicked up, finding Michael Gray storming in, fists clenched looking ready to explode. It had only been a day or two since the night of the attack, wherein he took Izzy. He wasn’t a fool—he knew someone from the Shelby clan would come knocking soon.

Surely, he’d been waiting for it.

"Well, bloody hell," Alfie muttered, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the desk, looking amused. "If it ain’t the lad himself. You come all the way from Small Heath just to dent me doors, or you gonna use your mouth to talk, eh?"

Michael’s hands slammed against his desk, moving his face closer with his gaze sharp. "Where is she?" he hissed.

Alfie’s hand moved lazily to scratch at his beard, pretending to think hard. "Now, you’ll have to be a bit more specific there, sunshine," he replied, feing indifference. "'cause I’m sittin’ here with no bloody clue what—or who—you’re tootin' about."

"Don’t play games with me, Alfie!" Michael spat trembling in anger as his hands rattle the papers and glass resting on the surface. "Izzy. I know you were there that night! Arthur said you came after them. You know something, don’t you?"

The mention of Arthur’s name made Alfie’s brow furrowed, just slightly, though his demeanor remained calm as he leaned back in his chair again. The oldest shelby brother was indeed there, keeping him away from strangling Finn regarding Izzy's whereabouts. He tilted his head, giving Michael the slow, deliberate look of a man considering all his options.

"Now that’s a serious accusation you’re throwin’ about," Alfie said lowering his voice, his blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "You think I’ve got your girl, do ya? What—you reckon I’ve got her tucked away somewhere, just for laughs, eh?"

Behind Michael, Arthur entered the room with a quieter and calmer presence. He pulled the door closed behind him, muttering a curse under his breath before stepping forward. His hat was tugged low over his face, and hands inside the pockets of his coat. "Michael," Arthur barked. "Hold your fuckin’ temper, will ya? You’re makin’ a scene."

Michael rounded on him for a split second, his chest heaving, before turning his rage back to Alfie. "You went after them!" he hissed, ignoring Arthur’s attempt to rein him in. "Arthur said you went out that night—you know something. Where the fuck is she?"

Arthur exhaled heavily, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I saw him leave, alright," he admitted, his voice strained. "But listen to me, Alfie—it’s got to be straight with us. We ain’t here to start a bloody war, mate. Tommy’s clear on that."

These people have no idea how willing he was to go to war just for the young woman situated in his home at the moment. He's already got Jack Nelson's blood in palms, surely he could take out a couple more if needed be.

The faintest flicker of annoyance crossed Alfie’s face, and he set his palms down against the edge of the desk. "Right," he muttered while drumming his fingers. "I’ll tell you what I do know, yeah? I did go out that night. Heard there's trouble. Thought I’d see what all the fuss was about. But as far as your girl’s concerned… didn’t see her. Didn’t speak to her. Don’t know where she is, mate."

Michael’s was not at all convinced and feeling his body tense up, slowly losing his patience. "And that’s the truth, yeah, Alfie? ‘Cause if you know more than you’re lettin’ on, mate, it’s only gonna make things worse for everyone involved."

Alfie’s brow arched, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward in the faintest smirk. "What d’you want me to say, eh? I know you lot think I’m a magician or somethin’, but I can’t pluck answers outta thin air. She probably went back home... if she's still alive."

"If I find out you’re lying—"

"You’ll what?" Alfie interrupted, his voice soft but no less threatening. He leaned forward slightly, meeting Michael’s glare head-on. "You come stormin’ into my office, slammin’ my desk about, waggin’ your finger like you’ve caught me in some grand conspiracy again, yeah? Or maybe you’ll bring your cousin along to try and twist my arm, eh? Whatever you’re thinkin’, lad, let me give you a bit of advice: Camden don’t play by Shelby rules."

Arthur saw how serious Alfie looked as compared to his playful demeanor earlier. He is not one known for empty threats so his hand clamped down on Michael’s shoulder, squeezing hard enough to make the younger man flinch. "That’s enough," Arthur firmly said. "Tommy’ll want this handled clean, not with you makin’ a fuckin' mess."

For a moment, Michael lingered, his glare locked on Alfie’s impassive face. Then, with a sharp jerk of his shoulder, he shrugged out of Arthur’s grip and turned toward the door. His eyes darted around the room as though searching for something—anything—that might betray Alfie’s claim, but there's none. He didn’t say another word as he stormed out, slamming it behind him with enough force to rattle the hinges.

Arthur stayed for a moment longer, his eyes lingering on Alfie with a mix of suspicion and weariness. "If there’s more to this," he muttered, "you’d best hope you’re on the right side of it, mate. ‘Cause if you’re not…"

"Ya'll come back with some damn gypsy pitchforks, yeah? Heard it before," Alfie said, his tone dismissive. "Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, eh? Got enough trouble without fixin’ hinges."

Arthur’s lips twitched, but he said nothing more as he followed Michael out, closing the door with a deliberate finality. Alfie sat back, exhaling long and slow as he stared at the empty room. His eyes drifted toward the window, watching their car go away.

"Peaky Fuckin' Blinders," he muttered under his breath, eyes going back to the papers in front of him. He knew Michael wouldn't stop looking for Izzy anytime soon, but he isn't planning to give her up either. Not today, not as long as he lives. He'll ensure that Camden would be a safe fortress for the woman he loves.

-

Tommy Shelby was a man bound by his word. He’d made a business deal with Alfie, part of his bargain in exchange for his help with the Russians, and he intended to honor it. But there was another promise, one that sat heavier on his chest—a promise to his aunt, Polly. He’d told her he’d look after Michael, no matter how far the lad veered off course. And now, those two promises were beginning to pull him in opposite directions.

When Michael came to him, wild-eyed and desperately begging for permission to return to the States to dig deeper into Jack Nelson’s shadowy world, Tommy hesitated. He knew Michael had been searching for Izzy for weeks now and he could see the torment eating away at the boy. The grief. The anger. The helplessness. It was written all over Michael’s face, in every erratic gesture and every sharp word. And yet, Tommy’s mind immediately went to the practicalities. Losing Michael now—it wasn’t just about family, it was about the sake of the company. Izzy, her operations officer, was already gone, taken by Alfie, and if Michael left too, being the next best thing, he would be forcing the few remaining hands to work twice as hard to keep things afloat.

Tommy calmly voiced these concerns to Polly in one of their private family meetings as he lit another cigarette. He expected pushback, maybe even anger, but Polly’s focus was elsewhere. Her face, lined with worry, was fixed firmly on Michael’s well-being. "Business can wait, Thomas," she’d said with an expression of evident resignation. "You don’t see it like I do. He's my son and he’s falling apart. If you don’t let him go, he’ll drown."

He wanted to argue, but deep down, he knew she was right. Michael’s torment was beyond doubt, and his obsession with finding Izzy was pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Polly’s words replayed in his mind as he weighed the decision, the cigarette burning low between his fingers. He was reminded that Michael wasn’t just another piece on his chessboard—he was family. And when it came down to it, family had always come first. That was the Shelby way.

And so, despite his many reservations, Tommy granted the request. He gave Michael permission to return to the States.

The haunt for Isobel Russo was on.

And so, the wheels were set in motion, each family member grappling with the fallout of her absence. But in the Shelby family, nothing remained unresolved for long—and no debt went uncollected.

-

Camden Town.

Alfie would do anything for Izzy. That was never in question. From the simplest acts of peeling fruit for her to the darkest, taking a life from her past to keep her safe, he proved it time and time again. It wasn’t just about protecting her—it was about making sure she felt untouchable, like nothing and no one could harm her again. And after their long-overdue talk, where they both finally laid bare where they stood in their relationship, something shifted. As if a heavy weight has been lifted off their chests, freeing them from all the things they’d been holding back. For Izzy, it felt like she could finally breathe again. The decision that had been gnawing at her heart for so long was gone.

She chose him. No hesitation, no second thoughts—she chose Alfie.

And for the first time, she felt like she’d chosen someone who didn’t just understand her but cherished her for exactly who she was. Alfie gave her something she’d never known before: safety. Not the kind of safety you find in locks and walls, but in his presence, his touch, his love. His bear hugs would drown the constant noise running through her mind. With him, she felt warmth, comfort—something she never had growing up. She wasn’t alone anymore. She didn’t have to be strong all the time, didn’t have to fend for herself the way she’d been forced to for so long. For once, someone was taking care of her.

Alfie knew her past, the streets that had shaped her, the fights she’d fought just to survive, how she'd weaponize herself to thrive. He knew all of it, and yet it did not faze him. To the point of him saying "Why’d you go an’ say that, eh? Changes nothin’ for me, love, not a thing.". She didn’t have to hide anything, and didn’t have to prove herself to him. She’d grown up never expecting anything from anyone, and here was Alfie, showering her with a love so overwhelming that it left her speechless sometimes. In turn, she loved him for all of it—the sciatica, the witty yapping, even his old man mood swings. But mostly, she loved the way he made her feel like she was the center of his universe.

And oh, again that bear hug of his. That was her favorite. It kept getting brought up since it wasn’t just a hug—it was a promise. A promise that no matter how fucked up things can be, she had him, and he had her. In his arms, she was Izzy. And for a girl who had spent her life believing she didn’t need anyone, Alfie had shown her just how beautiful it could be to let someone in.

He wasn’t just her man—he was her home.

After practically shoving the pasty into her hands and insisting she eat every last bite, Alfie decided it was as good a time as any to take her to the synagogue. He had some accounts to settle, and though Izzy wasn’t Jewish, he figured it was only right to bring her along. Its familiar silhouette stirring something deep in Alfie’s chest. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d stepped inside these walls. Years, maybe. Decades, even. It was quiet and solemn place, smelling like old wood and candle wax, and he lead her to sit in a pew near the back. His hands rested firmly on his cane, his gaze locked straight ahead. The unusual quiet tension that radiated from him was enough to make Izzy fidget in her seat. She leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Alfie, what are we doing here?”

He didn’t answer. Not a word. The corner of his mouth twitched—whether from irritation or some attempt at restraint, she couldn’t tell. His silence only lit a fire under her curiosity.

“Alfie,” she pressed, still keeping her voice low. “You’re awfully...solemn. It’s unsettling. What is this place?”

"Alfie..."

"Mr. Solomons..."

Still nothing. She huffed, shifting even closer, her breath warm against his ear now. "What, you’ve taken a vow of silence now? Is this some kind of elaborate cult thing you didn’t warn me about?”

Alfie closed his eyes briefly, the kind of motion that begged for patience he didn’t have. His grip on his cane tightened just enough for her to notice. “Izzy,” he muttered keeping his voice low, “If you don’t stop naggin' me, I’ll bloody toss you out here m'self.”

She leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips while pretending to be offended. “Oh... you’d never,” she whispered, shaking her head, clearly satisfied from his annoyed reaction. "I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you, old man."

He let out a sharp huff through his nose, his head shaking ever so slightly. His eyes, however, remained fixed forward. "You’re infuriating," he grumbled under his breath, though she caught the faintest flicker of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

That was enough for her—for now. She settled back in silence, though her curiosity still simmering underneath. What were they doing here? She knew Alfie wasn’t much for tradition, especially not when it came to faith. With the way he lived his life, she doubted he’d been in a synagogue in decades—if ever. And yet, here they were. Living together, sharing so much already, and this was a part of him she’d never seen.

“It’s a debt,” he said simply, finally breaking the silence.

She tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face.

“A debt? To who?”

“To Him,” Alfie replied, nodding toward the front of the synagogue, where the Ark stood solemnly against the wall. "The big fella upstairs.”

She blinked, taken aback. "God?" The word came out incredulous. "You’re repaying a debt to God?"

Well. This is it.

For a moment, she stared at him, half-convinced he’d lost his mind. This is it, she thought, her stomach twisting. This is early-onset dementia. I’m gonna be stuck looking after a senile old man I love.

But Alfie’s face didn’t show any of the teasing or madness she’d half-expected. His jaw was set firm, his eyes forward, his nod steady and deliberate. “For you,” he said. "For sendin’ you back to me." His gaze softened slightly but stayed fixed ahead. "And I reckon I owe Him a nod for that. It’s about respect, yeah? You don’t take somethin’ like that for granted."

The words hit her like drums beating on her chest, leaving her both speechless and breathless. Alfie Solomons, the man who lived like he owed no one and took no nonsense from anyone, was sitting here, quietly repaying a debt to God—for her. She opened her mouth to say something, but the sincerity in his expression stole her words, instead she just bit her lip. His answer was far from she expected.

Of course he means it, she thought, her heart pounding softly. Now I feel bad.

For a while, Izzy didn’t say anything. She let the quiet of the synagogue wrap around her as Alfie sat perfectly still, his hands resting on his cane and his gaze fixed straight ahead. She didn’t mind that he had his own ways of showing emotion—it was part of who he was, and she loved him for it. But as much as she tried to stay still and respectful, the calmness of the place started to settle over her a little too well. It was warm and quiet, and the weight of the pasty she stuffed down her throat earlier was still sitting heavily in her stomach.

Before she could stop it, a yawn crept up on her, loud and completely out of her control. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment as her wide eyes darted toward Alfie.

His head whipped around, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Bloody hell, are you dozin’ off?” he hissed quietly.

“No,” she whispered, though her sleepy eyes betrayed her. “It’s just... it’s warm in here. And peaceful. And, well… you did make me eat a lot of pasty before we came here.”

He gave her an incredulous look, shaking his head slowly. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, leaning back slightly. “Here I am, payin’ me respects, and you’re over ‘ere actin’ like it’s bedtime.”

She hummed softly, unbothered by his scolding as she let her head rest lightly against his shoulder. “If God didn’t want me to nap,” she murmured as drowsiness took over her, “He wouldn’t have made these pews so comfortable.”

“Bloody heathen,” he grumbled under his breath.

Even though he's annoyed, his hand shifted slightly, adjusting his arm to let her lean into him more comfortably. His hand rested against hers, and when her fingers curled around his instinctively, he didn’t pull away. Her voice softened as she mumbled something incoherent, her words melting into sleepy breaths as her body relaxed against his. Alfie stayed where he was, unmoving, feeling at peace in the silence.

This was all he wanted, wasn’t it? Just her beside him, safe and warm, with nothing pulling her away.

A man like him didn’t deserve much—he knew that. But for all the power and wealth he’d chased, this was the one thing that made him feel like he owed something back. He glanced down at her, her breathing slow and peaceful, and allowed himself the faintest smile. For years, he’d lived like God owed him for the life he’d been dealt. But having Izzy back in his life? For that, Alfie reckoned he owed God a bit more than He owed him. And, for once, he didn’t mind paying up.

Of course she wouldn't get off the hook that easily. Their drive home was as tense as his business meetings. Alfie gripped on the steering wheel tightly with his expression looking annoyed. He was obviously not speaking to her since they both got out of there. Clearly, this was his version of sulking. Izzy sat beside him in the passenger seat with her legs tucked up under her, looking at him from time to time with knowing smile tugging at her lips, finding him a bit endearing.

“Come on now,” she said casually. “Are you going to stew all the way home, or are you just going to give it to me right now?”

He let out a groan but did not take his eyes off the road. “Don’t try and charm your way out of this one, love. You bloody well know what you did.”

She bit back a laugh, shrugging her shoulders and pretending to be innocent. “Kindly enlighten me, Alfie. What exactly do you think I did?”

“You fell asleep,” he shot back gruffly. “Dozin’ off in the middle of a bloody synagogue. On me shoulder, no less, like it’s naptime for little Izzy.”

“I wasn’t asleep. I was...resting my eyes.”

“Restin’ your eyes?” Alfie’s head snapped toward her for a brief second, his expression pure disbelief before he turned back to the road. “That’s the excuse you’re goin’ with? In the middle of me payin’ respects?”

“I didn’t mean to!” she protested, though the teasing grin on her face showed her lack of real remorse. “It was warm in there. Peaceful. And I was full from the pasty—”

“The bloody pasty again,” Alfie muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Every excuse in the book, you are. You couldn’t even stay awake while I was speakin' to God Himself..." he continued. “You’re lucky the rabbi didn’t catch you droolin’. That’d have been a right embarrassment.”

At that, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. A laugh burst out of her, unapologetic and loud, as she turned in her seat to fully face him. “Alright, alright,” she said, placing a hand on his thigh and rubbing it in slow, up and down. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? Once we get home.”

Alfie’s eyes darted down to her hand for the briefest moment, his grip on the wheel easing slightly. His eyes sharpened with a flicker of interest and his lips twitched, hinting at a smirk. She knew that look—knew exactly what she was doing. No matter how much she annoyed him, she always had a way of buttering him up. The old man didn’t stand a chance against her. And the worst part? He didn’t even mind.

“Make it up how?”

“Oh, you know exactly how.”

“Do I now?”

“Mm-hm,” she replied, settling back into her seat with a satisfied look. “Consider it my penance. You’ll feel plenty thanked by the time I’m done.”

Alfie shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. She sure is cocky about that no doubt—and annoyingly, she was always able to back it up. As the car turned onto their street, she glanced at him again, her voice softening.

“For the record, though... I do thank whoever’s out there—God, fate, or just plain luck—that I found myself you. My old, grouchy man.”

He glanced at her, his smirk fading into something gentler. “Old and grouchy, am I?” he still couldn’t resist a bit of banter.

“Sure,” she said with a mischievous grin, leaning just slightly toward him. “Let’s toss handsome into it too. You know, as the cherry on top.”

Alfie let out a low laugh as he pulled the car into their driveway. “Never thought I'd see the day I'll meet someone as snarky as me.”

“Eh. Less talking, more penance inside. Let's go.” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt with a wink.

“Whatever you say.” Alfie muttered, though his tone was warm. And as they stepped out of the car and into the house. Ever since she came back, he’d been handling her like a fragile glass, overly careful with every touch. It got to the point where she had to tell him it was okay—he could hug her, kiss her, whenever he wanted in which he did. But weeks had passed now, and though they shared the same bed, his hesitation still lingered. They haven't had sex since, and it was starting to wear on her. She wasn’t fragile. She wanted him to see that—wanted him to see her.

They did not even get to his bedroom. Izzy spent little to no time pulling Alfie into the couch and crashing her lips to his. Oh boy, they were hungry. He was laying down with his head resting on the couch cushions, and she was straddled on top of him, feeling his hard cock underneath his pants. Quickly, she took off her oh-so-modest dress she wore inside the synagogue and unbuttoned helped him strip down his clothes as well. With a use of his left hand, he unclasped her bra and threw it on the floor, pulling her closer to him, aggressively sucking and kneading her breasts.

"Mmm Alfie..."

His tongue felt so good flicking on her nipples, she can't help but breathe out a faint cry. She tugged his hair back and started kissing his jaw, down to his neck, leaving some faint marks on it, proceeding to kiss down to his chest, playfully biting his tattoos while undoing his pants. His cock sprung out of his pants hard, only to be welcomed by her wet and hot mouth slowly taking him whole, as she thirst on his shaft. Her tongue curled into a damp bed where his cock glides in and out slowly at first, until Izzy greedily draws him in deeper.

"God damn it, Izzy..." Alfie hissed in pleasure, holding her bobbing head.

She was fully engrossed in gratifying him, but choked on both his cock and her laugh, pulling away.

"W-what? Why'd you stop?" he panted, looking down on her.

Her hand wrapped around his cock which was already lubricated by her saliva earlier, jerking him off. A faint smirk curled her lips as when she saw his head fall back again. "Out of a sacred place and straight to 'God damn it'? Truly, sinful. Don't you think, honey?"

"Don't be a tease, love. Come on."

He groaned in frustration but was still amused with her remark. He was getting close to the brink and he did not want to waste any of his goodness on her palm. He held her wrist, pulling her up to capture her lips again with her arms falling on both side of his head. Without breaking their kiss, his fingers traced her panties, pulling them down hastily, her legs kicking them off the floor. Izzy still straddled on his waist, Alfie bent his knees to support her, his both hands lifted her ass up while the tip of his cock dipped into her folds, searching for her entrance, then slowly pushing in her silky wet pussy.

"Fuck.. Alfie.." she whimpered, feeling her walls stretch from his size as she push her hips down. "I fucking missed you inside me..."

"Ah, love… you’ve no..." he groaned in between words as he feels her warmth slowly consume him. "..idea how long I’ve been sufferin’ waitin’ for this—"

Alfie was in her deep, his grip on her waist tightened, and his brows drawing together as he looked at her. "Go on, then," he muttered, his tone both commanding and charged. "Show me how you pay your bloody penance, love."

Her hip started rocking forward and backward, sending them in an immediate ecstatic feeling they're both very much familiar with. She was dripping and his cock was hitting her spot repeatedly, eliciting a loud moan from her. His right hand remained the grip on her hips while his left hand reach up to her nape, pulling her down into a sloppy greedy kiss, their sweaty bodies rubbing together as she continued riding him. That lasted for a while but Izzy had to pull away from their kiss and rested her forehead on his beard, gasping for air as she pants, her hips still moving rhythmically with his hips bucking up and down. She arched her back, allowing his cock to enter her more, deeply, and graspingly.

"A-Alfie..." she whined, feeling her stomach coil. "So so fucking good..." her head tilted back and mouth agape, chasing her release. He was hitting it again and again, and she eagerly rides him more.

"Yeah? Fucking cum for me, beautiful." he reached down to her clit rubbing it in a circular motion, sending her to her edge. The closer she felt to her release, her walls clenched around him. It didn't take long until Alfie felt his surge as well. Izzy came and gushed over his cock, still proceeding to ride him.

"Fuck's sake, Isobel..." Alfie groaned when his cock twitched inside her with each release.

"Ohhhh..." Izzy was barely biting her lips, unable to fight a moan escaping from her lips as she feels his hot cum fill her up. She shifted her hips a little bit, ensuring she caught all the drippings from his cock. It felt so damn good.

Catching her breath, Izzy nestled close to Alfie, her head resting against his chest. His arm wrapped around her instinctively, holding her in place like she belonged there—and she did.

She was his.

Alfie’s hand trailed lazily along her back, his fingers brushing some strands of her dark-colored locks. "Well," he murmured, "you’ve got my blessing to sleep through every synagogue visit from now on—might even make a bloody tradition out of it."

Izzy couldn’t help but laugh softly, still catching her breath as she nestled closer to him. "So, that’s your way of saying penance accepted?"

He let out a low chuckle, his hand now resting at the small of her back. "Mm, penance accepted," he teased. "But don’t think for a second you’re off the hook, right? You owe me more than that, love."

"More?" she mimicked, raising an eyebrow. "Greedy old man, aren’t you?"

His hand slid up her back, pulling her just a little closer. "When it comes to you, I’ll take what I can get." he said. "But you’ve never been one to hold back neither, eh?" he snorted, earning a chuckle from her.

For a moment, this was it—the silent warmth she'd thank the Gods for, the kind that didn’t need words or explanations.

Izzy tilted her face up toward him, her gaze locking with his, slowly, Alfie leaned down, his lips meeting hers in a soft, unhurried kiss. When they finally pulled apart, her forehead rested gently against his, a small, breathless smile tugging at her lips.

“I love you."

“I love you too, Isobel."

[loulouwrites]

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.

[w1ngedsoul]

secrecy | a.s

pairings: alfie solomons x shelby sister

warnings: mentions of sex

requests are open!

alfie solomons masterlist

Thomas Shelby was an intelligent man.

He attended all of his meetings, most of them were against his will, but he was aware of the repercussions if he didn't.

He looked after his business before his family, and kept his priorities in a confusing order for many to understand.

Even if he couldn't quite spend time with family, he knew where they were.

He knew what time they arrived at work, took breaks, went to the shop, went out to drink with friends, came home, whatever it was, he knew the whereabouts of them.

Or, so he thought.

His sister hadn't shown signs of suspicion, or at least her movements didn't, how could they? She knew his tactics and stayed where she knew she wouldn't be questioned.

She had gotten the job of a secretary in a local business, that's what Thomas was told and so he believed her.

What he was oblivious to is that her boss was, in fact, Thomas' trusted partner, Alfie Solomons.

He wasn't aware of Alfie's hand that glided up her backside as she reached for files just above her. He wasn't aware of her moans that infiltrated his office as she repeated Alfie's name in cries and muffles of pleasure as she buried her face into his shoulder.

He wasn't aware of her persistent trails back to the man's house, where their rendezvous would continue throughout the night.

He wasn't aware of her making Alfie keep their relationship a secret despite his questioning to make it known.

Alfie Solomons was aware of her surname, he had certainly heard it on numerous occasions. He judged her when he had first met her, but upon the development of their relationship came his carelessness of her background and the reputation that proceeded her family.

Although their affair had began merely from sex, they both had grown feelings for each other, which was particularly difficult for Alfie to admit, perhaps it was in regards to the final acceptance of her family, but his admittance of love came which only further buried their secret.

Thomas was unaware of his sister's flirtatious giggles and words laced with desire as she phoned Alfie late at night whilst staying at Shelby manor.

He was unaware of it all, and had been for the last sixteen months.

All for the sake of secrecy.

[ceirinen]

December 2023

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

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

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

I totally recommend their work.

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

@cillianmesoftlyyy

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

@runnning-outof-time

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

@zablife

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

@gypsy-girl-08

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

@pacifymebby

Arthur Shelby x Reader

@fkmarrycill

Pre-Gaming | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@holacia3

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

@beastofburdenxo

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

@look-at-the-soul

If I let you go | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@your-nanas-house

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

@raincoffeeandfandoms

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

@lis-likes-fics

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

@rafeology

Mentor!Finnick Odair x victor!reader

@wife-of-all-dilfs

Flower Therapy | Finnick Odair x Reader

@darlingsfandom

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

@pinguwrites

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

@http-finnick

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

@acewritesfics

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

@dearshelby

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

@lau219

Red Carpet | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@peakyswritings

I Do Bad Things | demon!Tommy x Reader

@shelbystales

Ceramic Lessons | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@darthannie

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

@hllywdwhre

Afterglow | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@red-write-hand

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

@mysaintkitten

Bad Behaviour | Mike Kiernan x fem!Reader

@notyour-valentine

The Spirits that I summoned | young!Tommy Shelby

@brummiereader

No Son Of Mine | Tommy Shelby

@youbyradiohead

Strawberry Syrup | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillianthinker

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

@cillspropertea

Coming home | Cillian Murphy x Reader

@cillmequick

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

[runnning-outof-time]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your wife…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded in response.

“A proper girl dad,” Alfie commented then.

“A what?” Tommy asked with furrowed eyebrows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your daughter’s lovely,” Tommy commented.

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

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

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

MASTERLIST

The Story of Rose and Alfie

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

[reiwanwan]

A warm place for goodbyes

Summary: Hazel Shelby thought she had left chaos behind when she moved to London, but an unexpected connection with Alfie Solomons challenges everything she thought she wanted.

a/n: This is going to be a series, so do let me know if you want to be tagged when other parts are posted!

Part 1

next >

Content warning: none

1922

London always smelled like rain. Even when the sun broke through the clouds, there was always the faint scent of damp stone and earth, clinging to the city like an old memory. I liked it though. It was much quieter than in Small heath— no roaring of factories, no constant reminder of my family’s empire looming over me.

I worked at the bakery on the corner of Camden High Street, a little place with windows fogged up from the heat of fresh bread and pastries. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was enough for me— away from my family at least, away from the Peaky Blinders. Away from Tommy and his schemes, Arthur and his temper, and the weight of being a shelby.

The bakery was quiet that morning, save for the hum of the oven and the occasional rattle of rain droplets against the windows. I was rolling out dough when I heard the bell above the door chime.

I glanced up, and there he was. Alfie Solomons.

I’d never seen him before, not in person, but I’d heard plenty. Whispers back when I would stroll around the Camden roads, painting him as this mighty being, a man who ruled Camden. Some said he was mad, unpredictable. Others praised him, said he was brilliant and gifted. Either way, I knew enough to recognize him by the way he carried himself—broad shoulders, thick beard, and a strong presence that was hard not to notice.

He caught me staring.

“You’re not gonna make me say it, are ya?” he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot.

I blinked. “Say what?”

“That you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in a bakery. Ever. And I’ve seen a lot of bakeries, love”.

I felt my cheek flush, and I returned to kneading the dough in front of me, pressing harder than I intended to. “You must be Alfie Solomons”, I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

His eyebrows lifted, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me. Can’t say I’m flattered. And who might you be then?”

“Hazel” I replied, glancing at him.

“What, your folks stopped at Hazel?” He commented with a playful smirk.

“Hazel Shelby”

His grin faltered for a moment, just a flicker of recognition at my last name, before that grin returned. “Shelby, eh? Didn’t know one of Tommy’s lot was slinging bread down in Camden”

I paused. “You know my brother Tommy?”. He snickered and crossed his arms. “Course I do, love. Anyway, nuff of him eh? I wanna know what a beautiful woman like you is doing here”

I hesitated. “Needed a change of scenery s’all” I said simply. “Small heath wasn’t exactly…quiet”.

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “No, I s’pose it wouldn’t be. Not with your lot running like a bunch of fuckin sheep”.

I didn’t answer. Instead, I focused back on shaping the dough, my hands and fingers moving with precision. He didn’t press me, which I very much appreciated.

“Nice little place you’ve got here,” he said after a moment of looking around. “It’s …peaceful”.

“That’s the idea” I said, my focus, still on the dough that was on the tray which was now making its way to the oven. “I live with my older sister Ada, she let me stay at her place and I’ve found work here, and Ada, well she works at the library nearby”.

“Ada Shelby,” he mused. “She’s the clever one isn’t she? got a good head on her shoulders, that one”

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

He leaned on the counter, studying me with those sharp eyes of his. “And you, Hazel? what’s your story?”.

I shrugged. “Just trying to live a quieter life, Mr Solomons”

“Alfie,” he corrected, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “No need for formalities love. We’re neighbours now after all”

I wasn’t sure if “neighbours” was the right word but I didn’t ask about it.

“Well, Alfie” I responded as I dusted off the flour on my hands, leaning on the counter and meeting his gaze once more, “I really should get back to work, the customers need my bread” I smiled.

He straightened up, tapping his fingers on the counter and slips the money for the bread onto my palms. “Fair enough. But I’ll be back, Hazel. Can’t resist good bread…or good company”  He said, giving my hand a soft squeeze.

And with that, he left, the bell above the door chiming as if swung shut.

I stood there for a moment with the same flushing feeling on my cheeks, staring at the empty space where he’d been.

Alfie Solomons. Trouble, no doubt about it. But there was something about him—something that made me wonder if trouble might be worth the while.

[sansaorgana]

— FAMILY SECRET

CO-WRITTEN WITH @solomons-finest-rum

🚨 This fanfic is a repost from 16 Aug 2022 from my different blog. I kept the Author's Note and everything from the fic the same as it was back then.

PAIRING — Jack Nelson x Susan Nelson (OC) // Alfie Solomons x Rosemary Nelson/Solomons (OC)

SUMMARY — Mr. and Mrs. Nelson throw a party after their youngest daughter’s Baptism ceremony when two uninvited guests decide to interrupt the event. Turns out that Mr. Nelson has been hiding a scandalous secret from everyone… his sister. Now she’s back, married and ready to take revenge.

AUTHOR’S NOTE [16 Aug 2022] — It’s an idea by my bestie @solomons-finest-rum but she insisted that I should write it, so here we go...  It’s so different from the stuff I usually create that it was super fun to write!

WARNINGS — mentions of lobotomy

WORD COUNT — 3,150

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FAMILY SECRET

Although it was already sixth child of Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, the day was still exciting for the both of them and all their friends and family. The Baptism ceremony of little Priscilla was much more than a religious milestone in her life; it was an important event for Boston’s society. Absolutely everyone was invited – politicians, high ranked officers, businessmen, bankers, brokers and even a few befriended journalists. Mr. Nelson loved to show off his big family and he never failed to make a point that whichever child they were presenting at the moment – was not their last.

All the boys had brand new suits just like their father and all the girls had white dresses just like their mother to remind everyone of their innocence and good intentions. An image of a perfect Catholic family that no one would dare to disrespect and everyone wanted to be like.

Mrs. Susan Nelson’s dress was perhaps white and quite humble but it was obvious that it had to cost a fortune just like all the alcohol and huge cakes at the party taking place after the church’s ceremony at the Nelson’s mansion in the outskirts of the city.

Little Priscilla was never a fussy baby, she was peacefully sleeping in her mother’s arms when her father was receiving all the congratulations and blessings… Also, most importantly, lots of expensive gifts.

“The mayor has gifted us a diamond necklace,” Jack leaned in to whisper into his wife’s ear.

“Is he mad? Priscilla is not even one year old!”

“Oh, of course,” Jack rolled his eyes, “we will give it to her when she is older. For now, you can wear it.”

“Oh, fine then,” Susan nodded at him and smiled widely.

She was quite a simple woman that Jack had married before getting this amount of rich, therefore he preferred her not to open her mouth during the events unless she wanted to agree on anything he was saying. He loved his wife but she wasn’t exactly the most presentable type when it came to that. She looked like an absolute gem in all the expensive dresses that were tight on her almost always round stomach, showing off his vigor and fertility in front of the society… but when it came to opening her mouth, Jack preferred for her to keep it shut when they were around important people.

“Mommy! Mommy!” six years old Cynthia approached her mother and started to tug on her dress. “Oh, please, can I go upstairs to my room and play with the new dolls Priscilla got?”

She had known already that her sister was too young to play with them, therefore they belonged to her and her sisters now.

“Absolutely not!” Susan Nelson scolded her and adjusted sleeping Priscilla in her arms. “It is the party after your sister’s Baptism ceremony! You have to stay here and entertain the guests.”

“How can I even entertain them, mother?” Cynthia pouted.

“Psst, Heather. Heather!” Susan waved her hand at the eight years old. “Come here.”

“Yes, mommy?”

“Go, play a song on the piano and Cynthia will sing for us,” Susan proposed, excitedly.

“Goodness, no,” Jack gave her a stern look. “Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean?! They’re very talented, it’s always a sensation! I am sure that our guests cannot wait for our daughters’ performance!” Susan scolded him.

Jack chuckled ironically and cleared his throat so everyone would look at him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would love to present to you my two absolutely adorable daughters who – believe me or not – are not only pretty but also bloody talented…” he started and people laughed.

“Jack!” Susan hissed at him. “Language!”

Cynthia and Heather bowed down in front of everyone and they ran to the piano, preparing themselves for the performance.

“What will you sing, Miss Nelson?” one of the men asked.

“She might sing but it’s going to be me playing, Mr. Mason!” Heather reminded him and everyone laughed.

“Of course, Miss Heather. What will you two perform, I mean.”

“Sing something religious!” Susan proposed enthusiastically but to her surprise everyone winced.

“No, no, Mrs, Nelson, please…” the voices surrounded her and she looked down.

“Sing the National Anthem,” Jack nodded at Cynthia, already grabbing a drink to be able to bear with that performance. “Because our family loves America and everything America represents, don’t we?”

“Yes, daddy. I love America,” Cynthia batted her eyelashes and everyone went “awww” at that.

That was of course a game but six years old Cynthia was a perfect player. It seemed like she had always known how to pick up any game her father had been coming up with. He loved all his children the same but Cynthia was – so far – his greatest pride out of all the girls. Heather was too delicate, he would marry her off to some good man who would take care of her but Cynthia was born to shine.

Only time would tell what Priscilla would become.

The boys were a completely different story. They were all trying their best to be just like their father and Jack was sure that he was raising future fighters.

However, he prayed for something to happen at this very moment. Something that would save his ears from Heather’s piano skills and Cynthia’s “O Say, Can You See…?”.

Wishing for that something to happen, he could never predict the event that would occur, though.

“Mr. Nelson, I am sorry, I was trying to stop them by the door…!” one of the terrified maids ran inside the room and everyone looked at her.

“What are you talking about?” Jack gave her a stern look.

“I am so sorry, they…”

The door opened loudly and two uninvited guests went inside the room. Jack felt his heart freezing inside his chest at the sight.

A young woman in a long, black dress, with ruby red lips curved into a contemptuous smirk. Her manicured hand was placed around a man’s arm. The man himself looked extraordinary, too. He was wearing black clothes as well and a hat. In his free hand he was holding a cane and his beard looked pretty ungroomed. However, it was visible that his clothes did not belong to a tramp or a beggar. He was a man of wealth.

“Shalom!” he opened his arm in front of Jack and terrified Susan trying to shush Priscilla who had just started to scream and cry, which was so unusual of her.

“O say, can you see, by the dawn’s early light…” Cynthia started nevertheless but Heather’s firm stare made the girl stop and swallow thickly before looking down.

“Rosemary…” Jack whispered, still staring at the woman.

“Nice to see you, too, brother,” Rosemary snorted. “I was quite hurt, I have to admit, that I haven’t received an invitation to your child’s Baptism ceremony,” she faked sadness. “To none of the ceremonies, to be exact.”

“What… What are you doing here?” Jack squeezed the glass in his hand.

“Jack, for the love of God, who is that?!” Susan handed Priscilla to a maid and stood next to her husband. “What is happening?!”

“Oh, he hasn’t told you?” Rosemary tilted her head. “Why would he tell you about his sister after all…”

“Sister?!” Susan’s eyes widened and all the guests looked at each other.

“Yes, sister,” Rosemary let go of the man’s arm and approached her brother and his wife slowly. Susan swallowed thickly and hid behind her husband’s back. “The one who caused scandal after scandal so eventually my beloved brother’s patience ran out… And he locked her in an asylum, didn’t he?” she stopped right in front of Jack’s furious face.

“It is my daughter’s Baptism ceremony party. You really didn’t have to ruin that day for her,” he drawled out through his gritted teeth.

“Oh, I doubt little Priscilla will remember that day,” Rosemary smirked. “You should be happy, brother!” she screamed out loud. “The lobotomy you planned for me didn’t take place because Mr. Solomons,” she pointed at the man who had arrived with her, “helped me to escape the institution and we got married right after. Now it’s him deciding about my fate and not you, dear brother.”

“Solomons…?” one of the men asked carefully. “Is he family with those Solomons supplying Boston with narcotics?!”

“Awful people!” Susan Nelson suddenly gained the courage to take a step ahead and speak up. “I am one of the founding members of the society’s club opposing the Solomons’ drug business. They sell narcotics to our children and poison the streets of Boston with opium!”

“Oh, come on, lady,” Mr. Solomons opened his arms and chuckled, “we both know, right, that my family got the opium only because my friend Mr. Shelby fooled your husband. It was actually Mr. Nelson who was supposed to supply Boston streets with the narcotics and after his failure he decided to use you and all his friend gathered here to start a legal war on drugs in this city but his real purpose, you see, is to get rid of my family after his ego got hurt badly.”

Everyone gasped and Susan’s eyes widened even further.

“Ah, apparently, you did not know. Pardon,” Mr. Solomons bowed his head down.

“Jack…?!” Susan looked at her husband but it seemed like his face lost all the color. “Jack…!”

He dropped the glass with whiskey, which shattered on the marble floor.

“My goodness, he’s about to have a heart attack!” Mrs. Nelson helped her husband to sit down on one of the armchairs. “Doctor! We need a doctor!”

One of the men emerged from the crowd while Rosemary kept circling around the tables with the cakes and champagne glasses like an animal hunting its prey. Her eyes were focused on her brother and the smirk never left her ruby red lips.

All the guests were gone and probably gossipping all over town already. Jack was still sitting in the same armchair, pale as a ghost. He was given a medicine by Doctor Parton who had assured Mrs. Nelson that her husband would not have a heart attack… At least not on that day.

All the Nelson children except for little Priscilla were sitting on a long sofa and watching the situation with huge eyes while their mother kept crouching down next to her husband’s armchair and caressing his cheeks to calm him down.

Rosemary and Mr. Solomons were eating one of the cakes by the table.

“Are you our aunt?” Richard asked first. He was the eldest and he felt the responsibility to eventually break the awkward silence.

“Richard, don’t,” Susan scolded him silently.

“Richard?” Rosemary snorted at that and looked down at the boy. “So, what do they call you? Dicky?”

“Rosemary,” Jack spoke up finally, “enough. He’s a child.”

“What’s wrong with being called Dicky?” Richard asked.

“I’m William!” the younger boy raised his hand, wanting some of the attention.

“Willy then?” Rosemary kept teasing. “And what’s his name? Peter?”

“How did you know?!” William gasped since little Peter was too little to speak.

“Maybe I’m a witch,” Rosemary chuckled.

“Being a witch is a sin!” Heather pointed out and Cynthia pushed her.

“Don’t be stupid! You can’t say such things out loud in front of her!” her younger sister scolded her.

“And you, sir? Are you our uncle?” Richard pointed at Mr. Solomons.

“Absolutely bloody not!” Susan squealed and stood up rapidly.

“Mummy!” Heather gasped. “Language!”

“Oh, please! Our reputation is already in shreds after that stunt!” Susan clenched her fists and gave her sister-in-law a furious glance.

“So you care more about your reputation than the fact that your husband wanted his own sister to have a lobotomy?” Rosemary smirked.

“Well, as we can see, he had his reasons!”

“How did you two even meet, huh?” Jack came back to his senses and stood up as well before pointing his fingers at Rosemary and Mr. Solomons.

“Alfie was a patient, too. He was there to cure his alcohol addiction,” Rosemary explained and shrugged her arms.

“I highly recommend, mate,” Mr. Solomons gave Jack a contemptuous smirk.

“You…” Jack pointed his finger at the man and he would jump to his throat if it hadn’t been for his wife holding him back. “You better shut your mouth up, you…”

“Oh, please, Jack,” Rosemary rolled her eyes while interrupting his outburst of anger, “can we skip the part where you blurt out all the insults and slurs and finally get to the point?”

“And what exactly is your point?!” Susan screamed at her. “Because I think you have already achieved your goal, which was to ruin our family’s reputation! Congratulations, well done!”

“Oh, my dear sister-in-law, you’re too dramatic. They will say that Jack has a crazy sister that escaped the asylum. It’s not exactly his fault, is it? Nothing’s ruined yet…”

“It is!” Susan angrily stamped her foot and Rosemary laughed at that. “Richard won’t become the President of the United States when the whole of America finds out about this scandal!” she burst into tears and sat down on the armchair before hiding her face in her hands.

“Is she serious about that?” Rosemary pointed at her with her thumb.

“Absolutely, my dear, I’m afraid,” Mr. Solomons nodded and took another bite of cake.

“Mommy, don’t cry!” Cynthia approached her mother and hugged her head. “Being a President is not the best job anyway! Look at Abraham Lincoln! It wasn’t good for him, was it?”

“Yes, yes, you’re right, Cynthia, darling…” Susan sniffled her tears back and took the handkerchief offered to her by Heather.

Jack took a deep breath in and sighed.

“So, we are family now, Solomons,” he started.

“Only on paper. If you want to call yourself my brother-in-law, you have to earn that, mate,” Alfie informed him sternly.

“Earn that?!” Rosemary’s eyes widened. “Alfie, we came here to tell him that we are going to destroy his business! You cannot possibly forgive him for the fact that he wanted to…”

Mr. Solomons raised one of his hands to shush his wife and then he rested it on his cane and squinted his eyes while staring at Jack.

“I think we both can prosper if we join our forces together, don’t you think, Nelson?” he asked and Rosemary gasped before crossing her arms.

“How? My wife is a founding member of the club that wants to legally get rid of your family from this city. I can’t join you now,” Jack sat down by the table and Rosemary ostentatiously left it the very moment.

“No one has to know we work together and actually, that little club… It can be useful, you just listen to me…” Mr. Solomons lowered his voice and Jack leaned in.

Rosemary sighed and crouched down next to the armchair.

“I’m sorry, Susan… But as your daughter said, being a President is not the best job there is. I might have saved your son’s life actually, who knows…?”

“Should have saved your breath instead!” the lady of the house sobbed.

“My name is Cynthia,” the girl introduced herself. “And this is my sister Heather. The one baptized today is named Priscilla.”

“Such remarkable names,” Rosemary smirked.

“My mummy chose the girls’ names and daddy chose the boys’ names,” Heather explained.

“When I was in the asylum, there was an old woman named Cynthia. She was screaming bloody murder all night long and snoring all day in a rocking chair,” Rosemary laughed.

“Oh, that’s so unlike me, aunt Rosemary!” Cynthia giggled. “I’m a good girl. In fact, I’m daddy’s favorite!” she added with pride.

“No, you’re not, you goose!” Heather pushed her. “Daddy doesn’t have favorites.”

Rosemary smiled sadly and straightened her back before approaching the table once again. Her husband looked engaged in a conversation with her brother.

“Jack,” she put her hands on his chair and he looked up at her, “you have lovely children.”

He laughed at that. Rosemary had never been known for adoring kids. Quite the opposite.

“I mean it,” she added with a hint of melancholy. “Doesn’t mean I want my own but I am happy that you’ve got yours. They love you and you love them… You love your family, Jack. Why couldn’t you love me…?” she tried her best to not to cry but she couldn’t stop her voice from breaking.

“I could ask you the same thing, Rosemary. I’ve been asking you many times to behave properly, you knew how important that was for me and your last stunt before I put you in that place… You know very well you did that on purpose. You wanted to ruin me so I took my advantage of being your brother and ruined you before you would do the same to me. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if you were me, because I won’t believe that. We are both Nelsons and it has always been nothing but a cruel game between us.”

They both turned around to see Richard and William trying to calm the fighting girls down. They were still having an argument about being daddy’s favorite but their brothers tried to resolve the conflict.

“We could have been like them,” Rosemary pointed out.

“Could have but you’re batshit crazy, sister.”

“And you’re an ass.”

“Either way, it was a very pleasant party,” Mr. Solomons stood up and put his hat back. “Despite the lack of the invitation, I hope it won’t happen again,” he smiled fakely at Jack and extended his arm towards his wife. “Rosemary, my dear…?”

She took him by the arm to leave the Nelson’s mansion.

“Are you crazy?! You want to work with him now after everything he has done…?!” Rosemary couldn’t wait until they’d be inside the car.

“Don’t be stupid, Rosemary. I’m deceiving him, can’t you see? We’re going to destroy him, absolutely, bloody smash him to the ground and make him suffer, you bloody witch you. They should name a hurricane after you, you know that, my love?” Alfie opened the door of the car in front of his wife.

“Now I do,” Rosemary chuckled as her eyes sparkled.

Meanwhile, inside the house, all the children left the room already to play but Susan Nelson kept crying in the armchair. Jack crouched down and squeezed her hand in his.

“My dear, enough of the tears now,” he lifted her chin up with his free hand. She looked deep into his eyes and sniffled. “I have a plan, my love, don’t you worry. We are going to destroy the Solomons, I promise you that.”

MASTERLIST

[followsfrankiep]

Haunted (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Chapter 4 - A Long Night

TW: Violence, Explicit Words, and Smut

Izzy's days at the Shelby Company had become a relentless grind. Polly Gray, ever watchful, had taken a keen interest in her activities. Every report, every meeting, every move Izzy made was scrutinized. Polly's presence was a constant shadow, her sharp eyes missing nothing. Izzy's visits to Camden, once a routine part of her role, were now handled by one of Tommy's men. Her responsibilities had been minimized, and it was clear she was under surveillance.

It started subtly. Polly would drop by Izzy's office more frequently, asking for updates on her work. At first, Izzy didn't mind. She understood the need for oversight, especially given the high stakes of their operations. But as the days went by, Polly's visits became more frequent and intrusive.

"How's the report on the Rum shipment plans coming along, Izzy?" Polly asked one morning, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

Izzy looked up from her desk, forcing a smile. "Almost done. Just need to finalize a few details."

Polly nodded, but her gaze lingered on the papers scattered across Izzy's desk. "Make sure it's thorough. We can't afford any mistakes."

The constant pressure began to take its toll on Izzy. She found herself second-guessing every decision, fearing Polly's disapproval. Her work suffered, and the stress became unbearable. The fact that she has not been able to visit Alfie after they met at the gym, has been worrying her as well.

One evening, as she was finishing up a draft plan, Polly walked in and picked up the document without a word. She scanned it quickly, her expression unreadable.

"There are so many flaws here, Izzy," Polly said, her voice cold. "You need to redo it, unless you want us dead."

Izzy felt a surge of frustration. "I've been working on this for days, Polly. The plan should be thorough and accurate."

Polly's eyes narrowed. "Didn't you hear what I said? Do it again."

Izzy clenched her fists, struggling to keep her composure. "Fine."

The breaking point came a few days later. Izzy was in the middle of a meeting with a supplier when Polly barged in, interrupting the discussion.

"Izzy, I need to speak with you. Now," Polly demanded.

Izzy excused herself and followed Polly into the hallway. "What is it, Polly?"

Polly's eyes were cold and unforgiving. "I reviewed your revised draft. This is unacceptable."

Izzy's frustration boiled over. "I've been working non-stop, Polly. I'm doing my best, but your constant supervision is making it impossible to focus."

Polly's expression softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. "We can't afford any mistakes, Izzy. You need to step up."

Izzy took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "I understand, but I need some space to do my job. Your constant oversight is making it unbearable."

Polly studied her for a moment before nodding. "We are talking about a huge transaction here. It is your job to make sure everything runs smoothly."

Izzy nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. It has been weeks since Michael left, and Polly has been filling out her son's role. However this time, Polly is the one leading, not Izzy. It made her realize how different Polly is with her son.

One evening, as she was finishing up her work, Izzy overheard a conversation that made her blood run cold. She was passing by Tommy's office when she heard voices—Tommy, Polly, and Arthur. They were discussing a plan to take down the Sabinis once and for all. Izzy pressed herself against the wall, straining to hear every word. She was excluded from the planning, but she made a mental note of everything they said.

Tommy's voice was firm and decisive. "We need to hit the Sabinis hard and fast. No room for mistakes this time."

Polly agreed, her tone equally resolute. "Arthur, you'll lead the charge. Make sure our men are ready."

Arthur's confidence was evident. "Don't worry, Tommy. We'll crush them."

Izzy's heart raced as she listened. She knew this information could be crucial for Alfie. She quietly slipped away, determined to use what she had learned.

The following night, feeling exhausted and frustrated, Izzy decided to unwind at the gym. She was in the middle of her workout when she noticed a familiar figure entering the room. Alfie Solomons, with a grumpy expression, was pointing a gun at her.

"Oi! Where the hell have you been, Izzy? I thought you went AWOL on me," Alfie growled.

Izzy didn't flinch. She calmly took off her gloves and took a sip of water. "Alfie, put the gun down. I'm not going anywhere."

Alfie's eyes narrowed, but he lowered the gun. "Explain yourself."

Izzy sighed, a hint of irritation in her voice. "I have been bustin' my ass at the shithole and it has been a nightmare. Polly's got me under constant surveillance. Every move I make is being watched. They've even reassigned my bakery meetings to one of Tommy's fucking men." she said, wiping off water from her lips.

Alfie's expression softened, and he put the gun back in his pocket. She looked tired, and worn out. "Well... I didn't know.. I thought you betrayed me." he shrugged.

Izzy gave him a warm smile and signalled him to sit on the bench nearby, in which he quietly obliged. A part of her knew that Alfie would have a violent reaction regarding her missing presence. The timing of everything was not right at all so she had to be more understanding of where Alfie's coming from.

Izzy looked deep into his eyes, her voice steady. "I gave you my word, Alfie. I won't break it. But I need your help."

Alfie has always prided himself to be a good judge of character. When he stared at her deep brown eyes, he knew she was a genuine person. At least right now. He nodded, his gaze intense. "What do you need?"

Izzy leaned in, her voice low. "I overheard Tommy, Polly, and Arthur talking about a plan to take down the Sabinis. They're planning an attack, and I think we can use this to our advantage."

Alfie's interest was piqued. "Go on."

Izzy outlined the details she had overheard, explaining the timing and the key players involved. "If we tip off the Sabinis, they can be ready for the attack. It will throw the Peaky Blinders off balance and give us an edge."

Alfie considered her words carefully. "It's risky, but it could work. We need to make sure the Sabinis are prepared and have enough men to counter the attack."

Izzy nodded. "Exactly. We need to coordinate with them and ensure everything goes smoothly."

Alfie agreed, a plan forming in his mind. "I'll meet with Darby Sabini and set things in motion. We'll make sure the Peaky Blinders walk into a trap."

Izzy smiled, her eyes turning into crescents, her cheek dimple appearing. "Thank you, Alfie. I knew I could count on you."

Alfie felt a warmth in his chest as he looked at her. She looked wonderful despite the sweaty and rugged appearance after her boxing. Alfie reached out to the clean towel beside her and wiped the sweat off her face. "I'm sorry for pointing the gun at you, Izzy. I should have trusted you."

Izzy reached out and touched his arm, placing it down. "It's fine. I understand. You don't need to worry about me betraying you."

Alfie watched as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the night. He knew they were taking a huge risk, but he trusted Izzy.

The following days were a whirlwind of preparation. Alfie met with Darby Sabini, who was eager to put a stop to the Peaky Blinders. They reached an agreement, with Alfie becoming an unknown trigger in the plan.

"So, Alfie, you invited the peaky blinders here then somehow, you are here to ask for our help?" Sabini asked, his eyes narrowing with interest.

"Oh is that the way you thank me? You will be dead in a few days if I don't tell you this." Alfie said mockingly, holding his crane.

Sabini's men pulled out their guns and pointed it to Alfie and Ollie, who was sitting beside him. In turn, Alfie's men did the same. They have been at each other's throats for years now. Darby's mockery of dirty fucking jews had always agitated Alfie. But business is business, and this time, Information is a valuable commodity. Thanks to Izzy, he's going to make a fortune.

"Put your guns down. Alfie's here as a friend." Darby Sabini signaled his men which they followed immediately, earning a smug smile from Alfie.

"Yes. Friend." Alfie mockingly nodded to his men, telling them to do the same but still kept their guard up.

"What information do you have, Alfie?" Darby asked.

Alfie scrunched up his nose and shakes his head. "Nah, mate. You know how valuable these things can be. I am just here as an instrument of God. Of course, since you are, as you said, a friend, I would be very much happy for a few thousand pounds."

Darby slammed his palms on the table with a resounding thud, muttering under his breath. "Stronzo." He let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes as he glanced at Alfie who is lying back at his chair, casually caressing his beard. "Okay, Alfie. Ten thousand pounds for your valuable information." he said, gritting his teeth.

Alfie's negotiation skills are topnotch. He leaned casually against the wall, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Oh, you see, friend... It is customary for business if you pay upfront, especially for the priceless commodities.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, eyes glinting with amusement.

The Italian man nodded to his right hand man to give Ollie the cash, upon receiving the payment, Ollie gave Alfie his confirmation. Darby leaned forward, his curiosity piqued and a hint of apprehension creasing his brow.

"Tommy's planning an attack on your territory. You need to be ready for them. I'll provide the details, and you make sure your men are prepared," Alfie explained.

"And what's in it for you?" Sabini inquired, his tone cautious. Everyone knew that Alfie Solomons would not give a shit to their war if it wouldn't benefit him or his business.

"Taking down the Peakys weakens Tommy's grip on the city. It's in both our interests," Alfie replied confidently.

"Fair enough. We'll be ready," Sabini agreed, a determined look on his face.

Alfie provided Sabini with the information Izzy had gathered, ensuring that the Sabinis would have the upper hand. They coordinated their efforts, making sure every detail was covered.

-

On the day of the attack, Izzy was at the office, working under Polly's watchful eye. Arthur and his men set out to execute the plan, confident in their numbers and strategy. But when they arrived at the Sabinis' stronghold, they were met with more resistance than expected.

The Sabinis had fortified their position, and their men outnumbered Arthur's. A fierce battle ensued, and Arthur was knocked unconscious in the chaos. The police, tipped off by an anonymous source, arrived on the scene and arrested Arthur, locking him up.

Arthur, disoriented and furious, shouted, "What the fuck is going on? We were supposed to have the upper hand!" From behind, a blow hit his head, resulting to Arthur losing his consciousness.

One of Sabini's men smirked. "Looks like you underestimated us, mate."

The news reached Polly quickly, and she was furious. The plan had backfired spectacularly, and now Arthur was in police custody. Izzy, meanwhile, continued her work, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. The first part of their plan had succeeded, and she knew there was more to come.

The clock ticked ominously on the wall as Polly entered the dimly lit office. Tommy sat behind a massive oak desk, the shadows casting a menacing aura over his stern face. Polly swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the impending conversation heavy in her gut.

“They got Arthur. ” Polly started, her voice low and tense. She could feel her pulse quicken, each beat a deafening drum in her ears.

Tommy looked up and his eyes narrowed, his gaze cold and unyielding. “What? How?”

“The fucking plan backfired, Tommy.” she paused, taking a deep breath, “he's been taken into police custody. They framed him with the murder of our men.”

The silence that followed was suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Tommy's expression remained unreadable, his steely eyes boring into the papers in front of him.

Polly raised the boys like her own, and this situation angered her. "Tommy, we need to get Arthur out of there. This is a disaster."

Tommy's expression was grim. "We'll handle it, Polly."

Izzy kept her head down, knowing that the real game was just beginning.

The news of Arthur's arrest and the heavy losses suffered by their men prompted Tommy to call an urgent family meeting. The atmosphere in the room was tense as the Shelby family gathered around the table.

Tommy addressed the group, his voice steady but filled with underlying tension. "We have a problem. Arthur's been arrested, and most of our men are dead. We'll get him out, but first, we need to secure our position. We can't afford any more mistakes."

Izzy listened intently, her mind racing. She knew she had to be careful. Any slip-up could expose her involvement with Alfie.

Tommy continued, his tone commanding. "Polly, I want you to tighten security. No one gets in or out without our knowledge. Lizzy, you'll take over the management of the office. Izzy, you'll handle your usual operations again, including your Camden meetings with Alfie."

As he turned to leave, Tommy turned his face to Izzy. “And Izzy, remember—no loose ends.”

Izzy nodded, feeling the weight of those final words settle heavily on her shoulders, feeling a chill run down her spine. She knew the stakes were higher than ever. But she also knew that with Alfie's help, she had a chance to turn the tide in their favor.

-

Her fingers brushed the edge of the bedsheets as the hotel phone rang unexpectedly, breaking the heavy silence. She hesitated, her heart pounding, before lifting the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Izzy, it’s Michael.” His voice was soft, almost tender, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She forced herself to take a steady breath, a sense of dread settling in her stomach.

“Michael… Hi.” She tried to infuse warmth into her voice, knowing that she had to play her part convincingly.

“I got the news... about Arthur,” Michael said, his voice tinged with concern. “I couldn't stop thinking about you. How have you been holding up?”

Izzy clenched the phone tighter, her eyes flickering to the suitcase on the bed, half-packed with essentials. Forced to balance the tightrope of emotions, she tried to keep her voice steady. “It’s been… difficult. I didn't expect it to happen so suddenly.”

“I miss you, Izzy,” Michael admitted, a hint of longing in his tone. “It’s just not the same without you. I’ll come home sooner. We’ll get through this together.”

Home. The word felt foreign to her now, disconnected from the affection Michael was desperately trying to offer. It was becoming harder to pretend as each day passed. But she forced a small, strained smile. “I’ve missed you too, Michael. Your support means everything to me right now.”

Unexpected guilt gnawed at her; despite the absence of true love for Michael, some part of her didn't want to hurt him. She felt trapped in a maze of obligations and deceptions.

“Izzy,” Michael’s voice softened, overflowing with affection, “I know it’s been tough. But you’re strong, and we’ll find a way out of this mess. I just want to hold you, tell you everything will be okay.”

Izzy’s throat tightened, and she forced herself to respond. “I want that too, Michael. I really do. We need each other more than ever.”

“Take care, Izzy. I’ll see you soon,” Michael said softly, his words lingering like a bittersweet melody. She could feel his love radiating through the line, only making the charade more painful.

“Goodbye, Michael,” she whispered, hanging up the phone with a heavy heart.

As the line went dead, Izzy turned her attention back to her suitcase. She resumed packing, her mind replaying the events of the evening.

Earlier that night, the gym had been dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of sweat and adrenaline. Alfie's words echoed in her mind. “That whole place is owned by Tommy. He’s got every line tapped, every call reported to him. Be careful.”

Izzy’s hands shook slightly as she folded her clothes, the gravity of Alfie's warning sinking in. She had to be careful, every move meticulously planned. There was no room for error. She couldn’t trust anyone—especially not under these circumstances.

The cold, hard reality of her situation weighed heavy on her chest. She needed to find a way out, and soon. The stakes were too high, and the walls seemed to close in tighter with each passing moment.

The morning light filtered through the dusty windows of the flat Izzy had found on short notice. Over night, she moved cautiously, the feeling of being followed still prickling at the back of her neck. Each creak of the floorboards made her heart race. She meticulously arranged her belongings, trying to make the sparse apartment look like home, though her mind was far from at ease.

-

Fast forward to later that day, Izzy found herself slipping into the familiar scents of Alfie's rum distillery. The heady mix of molasses and spices gave the place an air of dangerous comfort. As she entered, Ollie approached her with a look of genuine concern.

“Izzy, you alright? You look like you’ve run through hell and back,” Ollie said, his brow furrowed.

Izzy brushed him off with a tired wave of her hand. “I’m fine, Ollie. Just need to see Alfie.”

Ollie nodded, though his worry lingered in his eyes as she made her way to Alfie’s office. She pushed the door open to find him sitting at his desk, a familiar look of mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Oi, look what the cat dragged in,” Alfie mocked playfully, his rough voice filled with a mix of sarcasm and amusement. He took in her appearance, the bags under her eyes and the weariness etched on her face. “You look like you’ve been run over by one of them bloody trams.”

Izzy managed a weak smile, dropping onto the worn leather sofa with a grunt. “Thanks for the compliment, Alfie. I’ve had a hell of a night, moving into a new place and trying to do it under the cover of darkness so Tommy’s men wouldn’t spot me.”

Alfie leaned back in his chair, a wry grin spreading across his face. “Ah, Izzy, always the drama, eh? You know, you’ve got that knack for making life a bit too interesting.” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s this about a new place then? And being followed, you say?”

Izzy sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, I couldn’t stay at that hotel any longer. Not with everything going on. I felt like I was being watched constantly. Found a flat, but had to move everything during the night. Didn’t sleep a wink.”

Despite her fatigue, she noticed a glimmer of sly amusement in Alfie’s eyes. “Well, love, you did a stellar job of looking absolutely knackered. But listen, you’re smart, Izzy. If anyone can outmaneuver Tommy’s lot, it’s you.”

Izzy looked at him, grateful for the strange blend of teasing and support that only Alfie could provide. “I just hope you’re right.”

Alfie chuckled, a sound that was both comforting and unsettling. “Well, darling, if you keep running on empty like that, you’re bound to hit a wall. Take a breather when you can. This game’s a marathon, not a sprint.”

Izzy leaned back, her body heavy with exhaustion, but her resolve steadfast. “Thanks, Alfie. You know, for everything.”

“Well, now, don’t go getting all sentimental on me,” Alfie teased, though his tone held a hint of genuine concern. “You know, you keep looking at me like that, and I might start thinking you’ve got a bit of a crush.” He winked, his playful flirtation something Izzy had grown accustomed to.

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alfie, you couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me, love. I might just take you up on that,” Alfie replied with a grin. His demeanor shifted slightly, more serious now. “But seriously, you need to get some rest.”

Izzy’s eyelids felt heavy, her exhaustion almost palpable. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Just a little nap wouldn’t hurt.”

As Alfie kept yapping about plans and strategies, Izzy’s head nodded slowly, her eyes struggling to stay open. Gradually, she leaned back on the couch, her breathing steadying as she drifted off to sleep. Alfie continued to talk, only to realize she had fallen asleep.

For a moment, Alfie was stunned. No one had ever dared to fall asleep in his office before. His initial annoyance was quickly replaced by a rare, genuine fondness as he gazed at her sleeping face.

“Ollie!” Alfie bellowed, startling Ollie as he rushed into the office.

“Yes, boss?”

“Get a pillow, would ya? And a blanket too,” Alfie ordered gruffly.

Ollie returned a moment later, looking flustered. “There’s no pillow in the distillery, Alfie.”

Alfie barked sarcastically, “Well, then, improvise! And find a bloody blanket while you’re at it.”

Ollie scurried off, leaving Alfie to watch over Izzy. Glancing at her peaceful face, he muttered to himself, “What am I gonna do with you, love?”

Once Ollie returned with whatever he could gather, Alfie carried Izzy carefully, positioning her properly on the sofa, ensuring she was comfortable. He chuckled softly, noting how heavy a sleeper she was, not waking up with all the movement. He placed a pillow under her head and covered her with a blanket.

Alfie sat back in his office chair and stared at her serene face, allowing his mind to wander back to the first time they met. The dim, flickering lights of the underground had cast shadows on her determined face as she walked into his life, fearless and fierce. He had been haunted by that moment ever since, recognizing a kindred spirit in her defiance and strength.

He sighed, knowing he couldn’t bear to wake her. “Guess we’re both sleeping in the office tonight,” Alfie murmured, a rare tenderness in his voice. He settled into his chair, keeping a watchful eye over her, as the underground world around them continued to churn.

The morning light streamed into Alfie's office, casting a warm glow on Izzy as she slowly stirred awake. She blinked groggily, momentarily confused by her surroundings. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she sat up abruptly, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She had fallen asleep in Alfie's office, of all places.

Izzy noticed the pillow under her head and the blanket draped over her body. Her mind raced, and she wondered if Alfie had been the one to bring them for her. The thought brought a mix of gratitude and mortification.

Scanning the office, she realized Alfie was nowhere to be found. Glancing at the clock, it was barely 6 a.m. She heard Alfie's unmistakable voice barking orders at his men in the bakery below.

She quickly fixed herself, straightening her wrinkled clothes and running a hand through her hair. Taking a deep breath, she stepped outside the office, where Ollie noticed her and subtly gestured to Alfie that she was up.

Alfie turned his attention to her as she descended the stairs, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Ah, there she is! Well, look at that, those bags under your eyes have vanished, love. Quite the miracle, eh?”

Izzy rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks for the observation, Alfie. And here I thought I’d be dragging them around forever.”

As they exchanged banter, Izzy noticed that Alfie was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “Did you stay with me through the night, Alfie?”

Alfie’s demeanor shifted slightly, guilt flickering in his eyes before he brushed it off with a casual shrug. “Well, someone had to keep an eye on you, didn’t they? Don’t go getting any ideas, though.”

Izzy chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “Thanks, Alfie. By the way, what’s with barking at your workers for being late when it’s only 6 a.m.? Isn’t that a tad early, even for you?”

Alfie’s expression turned mockingly stern. “Watch it, darling. Old men like me have a reputation to maintain.”

Izzy laughed, earning a playful grin from Alfie. Her smile was a rare sight, something that warmed Alfie’s often cold and calculating heart. He was taken aback by her ease and genuine nature, feeling a strange sense of attachment he hadn’t known in years.

Izzy’s presence always had this disarming effect on him, one that made him feel vulnerable yet captivated. Beneath his tough exterior, he recognized a longing to be around her more, to bask in the warmth her genuine nature brought into his life. It was an unfamiliar and unsettling feeling, one he couldn’t quite place or understand.

The scent of molasses and spices filled the air as Izzy and Alfie stood amidst rows of rum barrels in the dimly lit distillery. The atmosphere was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the tension that often surrounded their dealings.

Alfie leaned against one of the barrels, his piercing eyes fixed on Izzy. “So, love, how are things progressing with our little operation against the Shelbys?” he asked, his voice laced with that familiar mix of sarcasm and sincerity.

Izzy tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, a thoughtful expression on her face. “It’s going well, Alfie. The rum is being prepped for shipment, and the logistics are all in place. We’re on track to send the first batch to the U.S. soon.”

Alfie’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “That’s what I like to hear, love. When do you reckon you’ll be visiting us in Camden again to finalize things?”

Izzy considered his question carefully, her hands resting on the edge of a barrel. “Probably in a day or two. With Arthur arrested, Tommy and Polly are all wrapped up in trying to bail him out and dealing with the authorities they can bribe. I’ve been reinstated in their daily operations, so I’ll need to be here.”

Alfie observed her closely, his mind racing through the implications. Though he wouldn’t admit it, not even to himself, the thought of not seeing her for a day or two left a strange void in his chest. He’d have to keep himself fully occupied to manage. “Well, love, I suppose I can survive a couple of days without you. Maybe.” He sounded sarcastic, maybe not? He was used to being not-so-subtle with Izzy.

She chuckled softly, her eyes meeting his. “I'll make it up to you, Alfie. We’ll get this rum shipped, make a fortune, and maybe you can even show me around London when we’re done.”

Alfie’s chuckle joined hers, a rare moment of genuine warmth. “Oh, Izzy, you really do know how to sweet-talk an old man.”

As Izzy listened to Alfie speak, her mind wandered to their secret alliance. She had always been cautious about working with him, knowing his reputation. The dim light of the distillery cast shifting shadows on his rugged face, and she couldn’t help but feel a mix of uncertainty and intrigue. But this morning, she knew he’d taken care of her —bringing her a pillow and blanket, making sure she slept and rested well—she caught a rare glimpse of genuine kindness beneath his gruff exterior. It was a strange, unsettling realization. She watched him as he spoke, his animated gestures and sharp wit captivating, yet her guard remained slightly raised, wondering if she could truly trust the man who managed to both infuriate and protect her.

Since the tension had eased, and they were both in high spirits, she asked a question that had been nagging at her thoughts. “Alfie, what do you think about me visiting Arthur in jail?" A part of her having a hard time to sleep was the thought of being a part of something that harmed Arthur. They were not close friends but the man was one of the kinder people within that company. She cannot help but to feel guilty considering they were secretly instrumental in his arrest.

Alfie leaned back, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “It’s actually a bloody good idea, love. The Shelbys won’t suspect anything if you go see Arthur." As always, she was three steps ahead. That move might even throw the Shelbys off the fact that Izzy was the one who tipped off their enemies. He gave her a knowing look. “Just be careful, yeah?”

Izzy nodded, her resolve strengthening. “You’re right. It’ll help keep suspicions at bay. I’ll make sure to visit him soon.”

Alfie’s admiration for her grew. She handled herself with such grace and determination, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to her. Though his mind was often filled with strategies and cunning plans, thoughts of Izzy had begun to sneak in, bringing a strange but welcome warmth.

He snapped back to reality when Izzy bid him goodbye. “I need to get home and prepare for work. Thanks for letting me stay, Alfie.”

As they prepared to part ways, Alfie teased, “Just remember, love, try not to fall asleep in random places again. I’m not always going to be there with a pillow and blanket.”

Izzy laughed, the sound like a soothing melody to Alfie’s ears. “I’ll see you in a day or two.”

The young woman left the distillery, her laughter echoing softly behind her, Alfie's gaze lingered on her retreating figure. He felt a strange longing, a desire to stay with her longer, even though he knew it wasn’t practical. Her presence brought a rare sense of warmth, something that had become increasingly precious to him.

He had to keep himself busy to distract from the absence he felt when she was gone. Turning back to his men, he barked orders once more, his gruff exterior firmly back in place. But in the quiet moments, thoughts of Izzy always found their way back to him.

Ollie silently observed their interaction, shaking his head with a knowing smile. He saw what was happening, even if Alfie didn’t yet fully recognize it himself. A young woman had captivated the gruff and tough boss, and it was a sight to behold.

-

The prison visiting area was a somber, cold place. The sterile gray walls were lined with rows of metal chairs and small tables, separated by glass partitions. The overhead fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glare on the faces of those who sat waiting for their loved ones. Izzy felt a chill as she stepped through the door, her footsteps echoing on the hard concrete floor.

She walked over to the assigned booth, the tension in her shoulders palpable. Moments later, the door at the far end of the room creaked open, and Arthur Shelby was led in by a guard. Even in his prison garb, Arthur carried himself with that unmistakable mix of anger and defiance that defined him. His eyes were fiery, and his jaw was set in a hard line. He looked every bit the fierce Peaky Blinder, despite the circumstances.

Arthur slumped into the chair opposite Izzy, his eyes narrowing as he took her in. “Izzy,” he greeted her gruffly, his voice tinged with a mix of surprise and suspicion. “How are ya holdin’ up?”

Izzy forced a small, sympathetic smile. “I’m managing, Arthur. But I’m more concerned about you. How are you holding up? How are you feeling?”

Arthur’s expression darkened, his fists clenching on the table. “How do ya think I feel, eh? Bloody furious, that’s what! Can’t believe I got caught up in this mess.”

She nodded, understanding his frustration. “I know, Arthur. It’s a tough situation. But Tommy and Polly are doing everything they can to get you out of here. They’re working tirelessly, pulling every string they can.”

Arthur’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of gratitude flickering in his eyes. “Thanks, Izzy. Appreciate you stoppin’ by. Takes guts to come here, especially with everything goin’ on.” He paused, then added with a hint of melancholy, “Michael’s a lucky man to have you, y’know that?”

Izzy’s heart tightened with guilt. Arthur’s words struck a chord, reminding her of the facade she had to keep up. Her feelings for Michael weren’t as genuine as they seemed, and the weight of that deception bore down on her. But she kept her expression neutral, nodding slightly. “Thanks, Arthur. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing again. “So, how’s the dispatch of rum goin’? Alfie givin’ you a hard time?”

Izzy chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Nothing I can’t handle. The shipment’s on track, and we’re making good progress.”

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, his anger slightly diminishing as the conversation continued. “Y’know, sometimes I feel like I’m the only one Tommy counts on, especially after John, our younger brother, died. I feel useless in here, not bein’ able to help with our operations. It eats me up inside.”

Izzy’s eyes softened with empathy and strategy as she listened genuinely to Arthur’s pain. Taming Arthur, a known wild dog, would be incredibly beneficial for her in the future. She needed more allies within the company to ease the possible complications with her plans. Arthur was known for his ride-or-die loyalty to Tommy, and Izzy knew she would need that kind of unwavering support as well. “You’re not useless, Arthur. You’re important to this family, and everyone knows it. We’ll get you out of here, and things will get back on track.”

Arthur’s expression lightened slightly as he found comfort in her words. “Thanks, Izzy. It means a lot to have someone listen.”

Izzy’s heart ached with guilt, knowing she played a part in his arrest. She masked her feelings, not wanting to get caught. “I’m always here for you, Arthur. It’s tough for everyone right now.”

Arthur’s eyes met hers, appreciating the sincerity in her tone. “Must be hard for you too, with Polly bein’ tough on ya lately.”

Izzy nodded, feeling a lump in her throat. “Yeah, Polly’s been a bit harsh, but I understand why. There’s a lot on her shoulders.”

Arthur reached across the table, his hand gripping hers in a rare display of affection. “You’re strong, Izzy. You’ll get through this. And once I’m out, I’ll make sure Polly eases up on ya.”

Izzy blinked back tears, grateful for his support. Her mind raced with conflicted emotions. On one hand, she was relieved Arthur had taken her bait once again. The promise to handle Polly meant she wouldn’t have to deal with the older Shelby’s harshness once Arthur was released. But on the other hand, the guilt of manipulating him gnawed at her conscience. She wouldn’t let it show, maintaining her empathetic facade. “Thanks, Arthur. That means a lot.”

Arthur leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Y’know, this jail visit has been the highlight of my week.” He let out a small chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing.

Izzy managed a genuine smile, her heart lightening as they shared this moment of understanding. She knew the road ahead was fraught with danger, but for now, she was content knowing she had earned Arthur’s trust and affection.

-

The clang of machinery and the chatter of workers filled the air around the offices of the Shelby Company Limited. It was another hectic day at work, with deadlines looming and endless tasks demanding Izzy's attention. She moved with purpose, her mind already sifting through the day's list of priorities.

As she reviewed shipping manifests and coordinated with the foremen, her thoughts drifted to her dear friend Sophia, who she had left behind in Brooklyn. Sophia had always been her confidante and partner in crime, and the guilt of leaving her alone weighed heavily on Izzy's heart. She wondered how Sophia was managing, hoping that she was safe and well.

The Shelby Company Limited’s headquarters were busy with activity. The imposing brick building, located in the heart of Birmingham, buzzed with the hum of productivity. Elaborate beams and iron structures gave the place a rugged, industrial charm, fitting for the hardened spirits that ran the company.

Around midday, Izzy felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find one of Tommy's men, who informed her that Tommy Shelby wanted to see her in his office. She nodded, setting aside her work and making her way to the upper floors.

As she entered, Tommy Shelby sat behind his imposing mahogany desk, the room filled with the scent of cigars and ink. The soft glow of lamplight bathed the room, illuminating the stacks of files and dossiers scattered across his desk. This office was where the gears of their empire turned, and Tommy’s serious demeanor hinted at the gravity of the tasks awaiting Izzy.

"Ah, Izzy," Tommy greeted her, motioning for her to take a seat. "I need your help with something. Parliament work has been piling up, and I need an extra pair of eyes to review these files."

Izzy's brow furrowed slightly as she took the seat, her mind racing with questions. Why was Tommy asking her, of all people, to handle such important work? She hesitated, feeling a mix of anxiety and curiosity. "Are you sure, Tommy? I mean, isn't this something you would usually handle yourself?"

Tommy handed her a stack of files, his expression serious. "These are reports and proposals related to housing reforms and industrial regulations. I need you to comb through them, identify any potential issues, and note anything that requires our immediate attention."

Izzy nodded hesitantly as she began to read through the documents. Her keen eye for detail quickly spotting inconsistencies and areas of concern. As she worked, looking up, Tommy’s gaze remained, a mix of appreciation and trust.

"You've got a sharp mind, Izzy," Tommy remarked, his voice steady. "I knew I could count on you to handle this."

Izzy glanced up, a small smile tugging at her lips. But her mind was still clouded with doubt. "Thank you, Tommy. I'm glad to be of help. Is there anything specific you're worried about with these files?"

Tommy leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "There are always people looking to exploit weaknesses in the system. We need to stay ahead of them, ensure that our interests and those of Birmingham are protected.”

Izzy nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. As she continued to review the files, her mind occasionally wandered back to Sophia and the world she had left behind in Brooklyn. But for now, her focus was on the work at hand and the trust that Tommy had placed in her.

Hours passed as they worked together, a sense of camaraderie forming between them. Izzy's diligence and attention to detail impressed Tommy, and he felt more confident knowing she was on his side.

As the day came to a close, Izzy gathered the files and handed them back to Tommy. "I've noted all the key points and potential issues. Let me know if there's anything else you need."

Tommy nodded, a rare smile of gratitude crossing his face. "Thanks, Izzy. You've been a tremendous help today."

Izzy stood, feeling a sense of accomplishment mixed with lingering uncertainty. "Anytime, Tommy. I'll see you tomorrow."

The days at the Shelby Company Limited quickly turned into a whirlwind of activity for Izzy. With the added responsibility of helping Tommy with his parliament work, her workload had increased significantly. The promise she had made to Alfie about visiting within a day or two had already stretched into a week without her realizing it.

Izzy found herself constantly going back and forth between the Shelby Company headquarters and Tommy's office in the parliament building. The parliament work involved reviewing documents related to housing reforms, industrial regulations, and various proposals that required a keen eye and sharp mind. She meticulously combed through the files, identifying potential issues and ensuring that Tommy's interests were safeguarded.

In addition to the parliament work, Izzy had to coordinate the upcoming shipment of Alfie's rum to the U.S through Tommy's men. The added security measures meant extra scrutiny on logistical details, securing transport routes, and ensuring their plans would go off without a hitch. She barely had time to catch her breath as she juggled multiple tasks, her mind always racing with the next item on her to-do list.

Her office phone rang frequently, with Michael calling from time to time to check in and discuss business matters. Each conversation was brief, as Izzy barely had time to address his questions. "Hey, Michael," she answered one call, her voice strained with exhaustion. "What’s the issue now?"

Michael’s voice crackled on the line, filled with frustration. “We’ve got a shipment delay here. Customs is holding up the cargo.”

Izzy sighed, rubbing her temple. “Alright, listen, Michael. Have you tried reaching out to our contact in customs? Sometimes it’s just a matter of a small ‘incentive’ to get things moving.”

“Yeah, I’ll give it a shot. Thanks, Izzy,” Michael replied, his tone lightening with hope.

As the days passed, Izzy found herself barely managing to keep everything in line. There were moments when she would stare blankly at the papers in front of her, exhaustion clouding her vision. Her visits to the boxing gym had become nonexistent, and she would often go straight home to rest after a long day’s work.

Every spare moment she had, her thoughts drifted back to Alfie, and the promise she had made. The guilt of not visiting him weighed heavily on her, but there simply wasn’t enough time in the day to manage all her responsibilities.

One evening, as she trudged home, her body feeling like lead, Izzy caught a glance of herself in a shop window. The reflection staring back at her looked worn out and weary, a far cry from the determined woman she prided herself on being.

At home, she collapsed onto her bed, not bothering to change out of her work clothes. The weight of the day’s tasks pressed down on her, but her mind refused to stop racing. She wondered how long she could keep up this relentless pace, juggling her commitments to Tommy, Alfie, and their secret operations.

-

Alfie Solomons sat alone in his office at the rum distillery, his mind restless. He had been looking forward to Izzy’s visit, the promise of seeing her again lingering in his thoughts. But days had turned into a week, and still, she hadn’t shown up. A strange mix of disappointment and irritation gnawed at him, feelings he wasn’t accustomed to.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the intricate patterns of the wood ceiling. Alfie was a man of action, not one to sit idly by. The more time passed, the more his curiosity and concern grew. Something must be keeping her busy, he reasoned, but it didn’t quell the unease he felt.

Unable to shake the feeling, he had discreetly arranged for one of his men to follow Izzy again and keep tabs on her. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her; he just needed to know she was safe and what was keeping her from their plans.

As the days dragged on, Alfie’s irritation grew. He summoned one of his most trusted men, a burly figure with a stern face, into his office. The man, loyal and efficient, had been keeping a close eye on Izzy’s daily activities.

“Right, what’s the update on our dear Izzy?” Alfie asked, his tone a blend of casual curiosity and underlying concern.

The man stepped forward, nodding respectfully. “Boss, she’s been working nonstop, running between the Shelby Company offices and Tommy’s parliament office. From what I can tell, she’s been dealing with a mountain of paperwork and has barely had any time for herself.”

Alfie silently absorbed the information, a flicker of annoyance tempered with understanding crossing his features. “And ‘eems like she's avoiding me, yeah? Been bloody ages since we last talked.”

The man hesitated before continuing, “Not avoiding you, boss. Just heavily swamped with work. I’ve seen her go straight home some nights, completely exhausted. She’s got a lot on her plate.”

Alfie’s gaze softened slightly as he leaned back in his chair. The thought of Izzy pushing herself to the brink concerned him more than he wanted to admit. “Right, well, you keep watchin’ her. Let me know if anything changes.”

The man nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. “Will do, boss.”

As the man left the room, Alfie sat in contemplative silence. Izzy’s absence had left an unexpected gap in his daily routine. He admired her dedication and resilience, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of longing—a desire for her company and the warmth she brought into his life. That was something Alfie wasn’t ready to fully acknowledge, even to himself.

He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to stay busy to keep his mind off things. The rum distillery needed overseeing, there were deals to be made, and additional barrels to execute. But in the quiet moments, thoughts of Izzy continued to creep back in, bringing with them a mix of frustration and undeniable admiration.

-

Days turned into a blur for Izzy at the Shelby Company Limited. The relentless pile of parliament work and her responsibilities with the rum shipment overburdened her mind. Frustration bubbled inside her as she often found herself drifting away from the real reasons she was tangled up in this world.

Her friends, Esme and Lizzy, noticed the strain on Izzy’s face. One afternoon, they made their way to Izzy and Michael’s office, determined to convince her to unwind. They found her balancing stacks of papers and the buzzing phone.

“Girls’ night out,” Esme declared, leaning against the doorframe. “No excuses.”

Lizzy nodded in agreement, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “We all need a break, Izzy. It’s non-negotiable.”

Izzy sighed, her resolve weakening. “Fine, I could use the distraction,” she admitted, setting the papers aside.

That evening, they headed to a beloved Birmingham pub, one protected by the Peaky Blinders. The air was filled with laughter and the sound of clinking glasses. Izzy had dressed the part, donning a sleek, flapper-style dress characteristic of the 1920s, complete with high heels that added a daring flair to her appearance.

Inside, the smell of ale and the crackling fire created a cozy atmosphere as they settled into a corner booth. Drinks were swiftly ordered, and the conversation flowed.

“Tommy’s been driving me mad with all this parliament work,” Izzy ranted to Lizzy, frustration evident in her voice. “Why doesn’t he let you handle some of it?”

Lizzy shrugged, a teasing smile on her face. “He’s got his reasons. Besides, our relationship isn’t like that. He knows I’ve got my hands full elsewhere.”

Oh we know what that is.

Esme chimed in, her laugh infectious, “Plus, anyone not wearing the family name never catches a break around here, huh?”

They bonded over drinks, their spirits lifting with each glass. For once, there were no scheming men, no secret agendas, and no impending threats—just her and her girls, treasuring the rare night of fun.

The night eventually wound down, and Esme and Lizzy were escorted back to the car for their trip home. Living near each other, their return was seamless. Izzy, on the other hand, was dropped off at the hotel where they assumed she still lived. Feeling a sense of invincible freedom, Izzy decided to walk home, the cool night air caressing her face as she strolled, the threat that had been shadowing her slipping from her drunk mind.

One of Alfie’s men, still on her trail, quickly reported her wander to a subordinate. The midnight distillery operations buzzed around Alfie as he cursed under his breath upon hearing the news. Without hesitation, he made his way to her.

Izzy, wobbling in her heels, reveled in the wind's breeze. Her feet ached, prompting her to sit down on a nearby waiting shed, appreciating the brief respite. Just as she considered napping right there, a car honked, jolting her awake.

“Oi! Sleeping in odd places again, are we?” Alfie called out, his voice a mix of sarcasm and concern. Izzy blinked, momentarily believing she was hallucinating.

"Jesus Christ." he cursed softly again, stepping out of the car and instructing his driver to wait. As he approached, the stench of alcohol hit him. Despite her mature mind, she was still so young and wild.

Recognizing him, Izzy beamed, stumbling towards him in an embrace. “Alfie! Finally,” she cheered, her voice slurred but filled with joy. She paid no mind to how he’d found her.

Alfie held her steady, speaking softly, “Missed our meetin’, did ya? What’ve you been up to?”

Izzy drunkenly rambled about her workload, the parliament files, the stress, albeit her words were jumbled. She felt light and unburdened, finding comfort in Alfie’s presence.

Nodding, Alfie guided her into the car. “We’ll get you home, love. Enough of such mischief for one night.”

In the car, the combination of the evening’s events and the warm vehicle air made her feel hot. She shrugged off her coat, revealing a body-hugging dress that caught Alfie's eye for a brief moment before he looked away, a mix of amusement and chastisement in his thoughts.

As the car rolled towards her flat, Izzy’s head rested against the car seat, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Meanwhile, Alfie’s mind wandered to the unpredictable and sometimes exasperating nature of this young woman who had somehow become a significant part of his complex world.

Alfie couldn’t help but shake his head, a mix of concern and curiosity. “What were you thinkin’, gettin’ drunk like that?”

Izzy, still riding the wave of intoxication, giggled softly. “Alfie, it’s the weekend tomorrow,” she slurred, a playful smirk on her lips. “Needed to unwind, y’know? All this stress... couldn’t take it anymore.”

Her skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, the combination of alcohol and the heated car causing her to breathe heavily. Her chest rose and fell with each breath, catching Alfie’s attention and fighting his manly urges himself.

Alfie huffed, his voice a mix of frustration and amusement. “Well, love, you certainly know how to unwind. Just don’t make a habit of it, alright?”

Izzy nodded lazily, her eyes half-closed. “Promise, Alfie. Just this once...”

He watched her, a rare moment of vulnerability in his otherwise guarded demeanor. The sight of her relaxed, albeit drunken, state brought a strange sense of protectiveness over him. As the car continued its journey, Alfie kept a watchful eye on Izzy, his mind a mix of admiration and exasperation.

Instructing his driver, he muttered under his breath, “Just get her home safe.”

Throughout the ride, Alfie’s thoughts lingered on Izzy. As the car pulled up in front of Izzy’s flat, Alfie carefully helped her out, Izzy's arm wrapped around his waist for support. He fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock the door while balancing her weight. After a brief struggle, he finally managed to get the door open.

“In we go, love,” Alfie muttered, guiding her inside.

Izzy giggled, leaning heavily against him. “Thanks, Alfie,” she slurred, her words barely coherent.

Alfie instructed his driver to go home, deciding it was best to stay and make sure Izzy didn't pass out in a precarious state. “Alright, you can head off. I’ll handle it from 'er,” he said, his tone begrudging but resolute.

Inside her flat, Alfie guided Izzy to the living room, gently lowering her onto the couch. “Stay put, alright? I’ll get you some water,” he instructed, heading to the kitchen to fetch a glass.

Izzy’s head lolled to the side, a dreamy smile on her face. “Alfie, you’re too good to me,” she mumbled.

He returned with the water, sitting beside her and holding the glass to her lips. “Drink up, love. You’ll thank me in the mornin’.”

She drank obediently, her eyes flickering with gratitude. “You really didn’t have to do all this,” she murmured, her voice softening.

Seeing her in this vulnerable state, Alfie felt a mix of frustration and tenderness. He cursed under his breath again, knowing it would indeed be a long night. But as he watched over her, ensuring she was comfortable, he couldn’t shake the feeling of protectiveness that had taken hold.

They found their way to her bed room. As Izzy lay on the bed, she suddenly stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “Can’t sleep in this,” she mumbled, her words slurred. She wobbled to her feet, making her way to the closet.

Alfie watched, a mix of curiosity and concern etched on his face. “Izzy, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and cautious.

She giggled, rummaging through her closet. “Need my nightwear,” she replied, her movements unsteady. Without a second thought, she began to take off her dress, much to Alfie’s surprise.

“Bloody hell,” Alfie muttered under his breath, caught off guard by the sudden display. He turned his gaze away, fighting the temptation to look.

Izzy, now standing in her matching black lingerie, continued to search for her nightwear. The sight of her in such a vulnerable state made Alfie curse again, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. She fumbled with her nightgown, Alfie stepped forward to help her, his mind still reeling from the unexpected turn of events. He handed her the nightgown, trying to maintain his composure. “Here, love. Let’s get you sorted.”

Izzy took the nightgown, her eyes meeting his with a playful glint. Without warning, she grabbed Alfie by the collar and pulled him into a passionate kiss. It was sudden, catching him completely off guard. For a moment, Alfie froze, his mind racing with conflicting emotions.

But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he found himself leaning into the kiss, his hands resting on her waist. Izzy’s arms slowly moved from his collar to wrap around his neck, deepening the embrace. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

As they finally broke the kiss, Izzy’s eyes locked onto his, a mix of vulnerability and boldness in her gaze. “I’ve been wanting to do that for some time now,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper.

Alfie’s heart pounded in his chest, a rare moment of tenderness washing over him. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Izzy,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly.

Izzy giggled, her arms still wrapped around his neck. “Stay the night, Alfie. Please,” she asked, her voice soft and sincere.

Alfie sighed, his resolve weakening. “Alright, love. I’ll stay.”

He helped her into the nightgown, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to maintain his composure. Once she was dressed, he carefully laid her down on the bed, pulling the blanket over her. He then settled beside her, feeling a warmth in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

She reached out and embraced Alfie, catching him off guard. He froze for a moment, the sudden turn of events leaving him momentarily speechless. Izzy’s head rested on his chest, and he could feel her warm breath against his skin.

“I’ve missed you, Alfie,” she blurted out, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and boldness. “These busy days... I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

Alfie’s heart pounded in his chest as he gently brushed her hair with his fingers, his other arm wrapping around her back. He did miss her as well. Probably more than words can say. Still, this was an unexpected setup, one that left him feeling both protective and conflicted. He listened intently as Izzy rambled about her feelings, her words a mix of drunken honesty and pent-up emotions.

“I’ve been wanting to leave Michael for a long time now,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “I just want to go back home to Brooklyn.”

Alfie’s heart wrenched at her words, a pain he hadn’t anticipated. The thought of her leaving, of losing the connection they had built, was almost too much to bear. He swallowed hard, his voice vulnerable as he spoke. “If you leave for Brooklyn, you’ll be leavin' me as well.”

Izzy looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and confusion. “I don’t want to leave you, Alfie. But I don’t know what to do.”

Alfie sighed, his fingers gently tracing patterns on her back. “We’ll figure it out, love. Just... don’t make any rash decisions. Not tonight.”

She nodded, her head resting back on his chest. The warmth of his embrace and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat provided a sense of comfort she hadn’t felt in a long time.

His mind raced with thoughts and emotions, but for now, he focused on the woman in his arms. He heard her sigh deeply, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and sadness. “I don’t want Michael to come back to Birmingham, but he will soon,” she confessed, peaking Alfie’s curiosity.

He looked down at her, his brow furrowing. “Why’s that, love?”

Izzy’s eyes filled with a mix of resignation and determination. “Because when he does, I’ll have to go back to the hotel and do things I don’t want to do with him,” she stated bluntly, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Alfie’s blood began to boil at her words, a possessive anger rising within him. He knew what exactly she was talking about. He hugged her tightly, not wanting to let her go. “You don’t have to do anythin' you don’t want to, Izzy,” he said, his voice firm and protective.

Izzy looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and longing. She shifted, positioning herself on top of him, her hands resting on his chest. “I want to be with you, Alfie,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Before he could respond, she leaned in and kissed him deeply, pouring all her unsaid feelings and tension into the embrace. Alfie’s mind raced, but he couldn’t deny the connection they shared. He kissed her back, his hands gently caressing her back, holding her close. She slowly moved on top of him, not breaking the kiss as it deepened further. Alfie felt her purposely grinding her cunt against his rock-hard pants.

As they finally broke the kiss, Alfie’s eyes locked onto hers, a mix of frustration and desire evident in his gaze. But then, he gently pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders. “Izzy, you’re drunk,” he said softly, his voice filled with concern. “We outta stop. I don’t want you to regret this in the mornin'.”

Izzy’s eyes filled with a mix of frustration and longing, bitting her lower lip while staring at his. She did not answer, and proceeded to unbutton his shirt one by one, earning a deep groan from Alfie. He would be lying if he said he did not want this. His grip at her waist became a bruising one, as he fight his carnal urges, but Izzy continued to undress him. Still on top of him, she starts to remove her night gown as well, sitting on Alfie's already hardened bulge.

Alfie held her lovingly, letting her unbuckle his belt and pulling down his pants, revealing his hardened cock, she smirks and places herself in between his legs. Alfie groaned as he felt her palm wrap around him and stroking him slowly. "Fuckin' hell, Izzy." He huffed.

"Mmm... let's just have this night for ourselves, alright?" She seductively whispered, earning an exasperated nod from the old man. A moan escaped from his lips when she started placing his shaft inside her warm and wet mouth, hollowing her cheeks and bobbing her head up and down. He carefully grabbed her head and helped her bob her head in his throbbing cock, feelings the waves of unimaginable pleasure every time.

Izzy looked up to him while doing her thing, her gaze met his, turning him on even more. She could feel him getting close to eruption, she smiled and stopped with a pop. "No, no... Not just yet." she went back on top of Alfie, his concerned eyes before were replaced with a hungry one.

"You like being on top, sweetheart?" Alfie teased with a smug smirk on his face, reaching out to unclasp Izzy's lingerie and pulling her underwear down, throwing it all on the floor. He kicked his pants away as well as his shirt, both of them are fully naked now.

"And you're surprised?" Izzy said, scoffing playfully, earning a growl from Alfie. Holding her hips in place with both of his hands, she tucked her feet under his thighs for stability as she slowly pushes her wet cunt, taking his thick cock slowly. Her eyebrows furrowed as both the pain and pleasure hit her, slowly adjusting to Alfie's size and taking him all in. His hands caressed her thighs lovingly, noticing and feeling her adjust. She wanted more of him, becoming more wet as the seconds go by.

She slowly thrust her hips up and down his shaft with a loud moan escaping from her lips. Alfie huffed and grunted each time she rides him. It felt right. For the both of them, this was bound to happen. He gritted his teeth when he saw her tits bouncing along her rhythm, turning him on even more. Still holding her hips, he thrusted into her faster as well, the sound of her ass cheeks being slapped becomes quicker and quicker. Hitting her spot repeatedly.

"A-Alfie... I... I.." she moaned in between her breath. Alfie felt her clench around his cock, nearing her release.

"Let it go, baby... Let it.. go.." Alfie quicken his pace as well, wanting Izzy to release while he's inside her. Their moans filled the room along with their heavy breathing and sounds of their skin slapping against each other.

"Alf-" Izzy unable to call out his whole name, shut her eyes as she cum. His cock was dripping from her release, earning a playful smile from Alfie who is still helping her bounce up and down.

"I'm gettin' close as well, love.." his breathing getting fainter. Izzy nodded and resumed thrusting her hips up and down his cock. Her sweat was dripping down her forehead, wiping it away and locking her gaze with Alfie. She could tell that he was already near his release, with each thrust going deeper and deeper.

Alfie rubbed her arms, and looked at her rather desperately. Knowing what this meant, she nodded, giving him her full consent. "It's okay, Alfie.."

Alfie did not hesitate, he slammed her hips down with his cock twitching and came inside her. Izzy's head fell back with her eyes half open and mouth agape, feeling his loads of hot cum shooting inside her, some of it oozing out of her cunt. It was a feeling she never experienced before.

She plopped down on his chest, both of them panting. Alfie pulled her into an embrace, covering their naked bodies with her blanket. Neither of them had anything to say. Only their breathing filled the air. He felt Izzy's fingertips tracing the tattoos on his chest, she was not even looking at him. He did not mind that.

Having this young woman to himself and in between his arms was more than enough for him. His mind wandered as he stared at the ceiling of Izzy's room. It finally happened and his feelings for her were confirmed.

-

Next Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/followsfrankiep/773364695196450816/haunted-alfie-solomons-x-reader

[loulouwrites]

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.

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!

[tickettride]

Like real people do

Alfie Solomons x Fem!OC

[warnings: WW1 setting, blood, wounds and mentions of death, angst]

masterlist | previous part

一 four

August 1917, somewhere in France

“Get me bandages!” you yelled so loud that even the dazed Tommy shot up in a startle, eyes wide in fear. “Someone get me bandages!”

You were tired. Tired of being invisible, of feeling drained of life. Tired of seeing men meet their end, most of the time in horrid conditions. The war felt never-ending, and you’d caught yourself thinking of running away a few times already, though you’d never admit it to anyone. Being a nurse was a source of pride, and what kind of coward would show off about giving up? You weren’t much better than the men who left their families at the first difficulty. 

No, you weren’t strong. 

You wouldn't be the model daughter if this war ended. The model woman fighting for her country. You were weak, exhausted, and terrified. The familiar smell of home had become a foreign memory, and your parents’ faces washed by bloody ones. 

On the first day of August, the tents were overflowing with men. You still needed to serve lunches, but you’d been caught trying to stitch a leg up in the chaos of it all while the man screamed his lungs out. The food forgotten, all your focus went on that stranger whose life you needed to save. 

“I’m almost done, alright?” you panted, trying to meet his faraway gaze. “Hold on a second, I’m almost done.”

Every day you met, cleaned, and bandaged hundreds of faces, all different but linked by the same sights. Yet, there was always one you longed to see. 

Captain Solomons. 

Was he alive? Had he been sent off somewhere else? Was he thinking about you at all, like you were thinking of him? 

You’d learned about his title a few days before, when you’d stumbled across his name on a register. At first, you hadn’t understood why he hadn’t mentioned it—the others commonly did—but it soon dawned on you that the titles didn’t really matter anymore in a life in which tomorrow might not exist. Solomons was a man like any other. He might be gone the next day, and you'd forget him by the end of the week.

If only.

It became harder and harder to picture his face in your mind, just as it became hard for you to simply remember things. You were in a constant state of anxiousness, barely eating anymore but always trying to cheer up those who were receptive to your voice. If you were becoming a shell of yourself, then you might as well offer some humanity to those in need. As long as they stopped calling you a coward. 

Still bandaging the poor man’s leg, you glanced up at his pale face and offered a supportive smile. Or what looked like one.

He gritted his teeth with each puncture.

“Is this alright?”

“Tell me I’ll walk again,” his voice reached your ears for the first time, younger than the face attached to it.

“I’ll try my best to make it as it was before,” you promised. “It’s just a matter of time, alright?”

Before the man could even respond, Mary was shouting your name across the tent. That voice was barely believable for a woman so short. She had more energy than all the nurses combined, and you flinched every time, shutting your eyes as if she were a bomb herself.

“Jesus Christ.”

Turning back to the soldier, you squeezed his arm lightly and promised you’d be back. You ran up toward Mary, wondering if you’d done something wrong. You’d checked in with the men as you’d been told, even took time to clean up the trolleys. Self-consciousness prickled at your skin when you met her upset gaze, mingling with guilt.

“That bloody pighead won’t let me touch him until he sees you,” Mary huffed, raising a brow so comically high you had to guess if she was joking.

Frowning, you stepped aside so you could have a look at his face.

She wasn’t joking.

Your gaze landed on Solomons, coughing soil and blood out of his mouth and swiping it from his face. Blood poured from his leg, staining the bedding crimson. Still, he seemed almost… calm.

An icy dread gripped you when you saw his hands. Every scar was fresh and new, forever engraved in the flesh.

“Captain.”

“Sadie, eh?” his voice finally filled your ears, and nothing had ever sounded so close to home. “Would ya like to save my life today?”

“Oh dear,” you muttered as you lunged over, tying a clean bandage around his injury to stop the blood flow.

Behind you, Mary said she was going to eat something. You didn’t pay much attention to her anymore. With a brief nod, you focused back on Solomons and told him to stay still while you cleaned the wound and picked up a needle and a thread, clutching your fist nervously. Why were you nervous for? You did that every single day.

So you started working on the gash with an odd weight on your shoulders, conscious of his pain when he cursed under his breath, although it didn’t sound English. Despite his pale face, he didn’t look like he was near fainting. Instead, he watched you with steady eyes, not bothering to look away when you glanced up to check how he was feeling.

Solomons nodded briefly, telling you wordlessly to go on.

“Why wouldn’t I save your life?” you asked when the thick silence made you uneasy, shooting another glance up at his tired face.

His face. Real. In front of you. His eyes still held the same depth from the first time you’d met him.

“Didn’t know if ya wanted to see me again," the Captain said, as if he hadn’t been close to death for a moment. “But ya see, Sadie, sounds like ya do care ‘bout me, don’t it?"

He was unbelievable. You paused, entranced by him and his ways.

“I do, actually,” you kept eye-contact, your hands trembling when he sent you the tiniest of smiles. “Now please hold still.”

You only tore your eyes away from his wound to fetch sterile dressings from the nearest trolley, putting all your attention on the blood oozing over, staining your uniform with red splatters. Solomons hissed quietly once or twice, but he was quieter than most.

You tied off the final knot firmly, not willing to do this again soon. It felt like stitching your brother up after a bad fall from the ladder—his pain became yours, and you wished you could suffer for him.

“Right,” you looked closer at the cut showing through his torn trousers, careful when you put your hand on him. “It doesn’t look too deep. I don’t think it’s going to s–”

“You’re a real beauty, Miss Murray.”

At a loss for words, you burst into a chuckle and narrowed your eyes at him. Solomons had lifted his head up to have a better look at you, not once bit of teasing in his expression. Just pure sincerity, if not awe.

“Half the men in here have told me the same, Captain.”

“Alfie, right?” he corrected you, his head falling back onto the bed. “They don’t mean it like I do. They’re lyin’ bastards, all of ‘em.”

“Well, I’ve become immune to compliments, Alfie. It was getting boring.”

You swore you saw a tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes when he glanced down at your face.

“Immune, yeah? What a sad thought that is, Sadie.”

Was that another smile on your face? Probably. Your name had rolled off his tongue like honey. Like he had said it all his life.

“Do you want to know a secret?” you added, purely chatting just to have more time with him.

You pretended to be cleaning the trolley up while you watched him nod, the sight catching in your throat. No man had ever looked so fascinated by your words before. It made you want to spill everything—to lay out your life and tell him every last detail.

“Half of them have also asked for my hand," you whispered cheekily, like sharing a bit of gossip.

“Have they?” Alfie’s words sounded light-hearted, but something serious swirled in his irises like lava.

You offered a shrug. “The morphine can mess with people’s heads. The proposals are quite the daily occurrence now, y’know.”

“Yeah, I do know. I do know. Have you told ‘em that someone’s waitin’ for you after this war is over?”

Swallowing in an attempt to slow your pulse, you turned your attention to the bloodied needle, skimming your finger over it.

His blood on your chair.

You weren’t sure who he meant, exactly.

Right then, looking back into his eyes, you wiped your finger on a dirty piece of fabric lying next to the threads and willed yourself to stop acting so odd.

Thinking such thoughts would only cause you pain. Alfie would go back to his life as you would, maybe find a wife or girlfriend to help in his bakery, and you’d be the idiot once again. Andrew was waiting for you, anyway.

“That’s my excuse to avoid insistent men,” you said after a moment.

“Right. Clever girl.”

With the ghost of a smile on your lips, you turned at the sound of the Chief Nurse bursting through the tent, a trail of other nurses hot on her heels. You didn’t think and went back to his leg, acting as if the bandage hadn’t been applied correctly. She’d come and think you were panicking again, and you couldn’t afford that. Not when your time with Alfie was so limited.

Besides, you really didn’t want to have lunch and leave him to be cared for by one of the new ones. They didn’t know what he needed. They wouldn’t get him.

“Wastin’ time on my leg while others are waitin’ for a nurse, huh. I might be the next one to ask for your hand, Sadie.”

Ignoring his last words, you grabbed a random tool and gazed back at him. “I’m due my lunch break. Someone’s replacing me.”

“Wastin’ your lunch break on me, yeah,” Alfie teased, wiping his sweaty forehead with his dirty hand.

“Not wasting. Taking the opportunity.”

“Right,” he slightly narrowed his eyes at you and at the tool that was usually used in much bloodier circumstances. "When do you take the opportunity to eat, eh?"

Your blood heated, just like on the day Andrew had first kissed your thighs. He cared.

“I’m just making sure you’ll heal nicely.”

“You do your job, nurse.”

You smiled up at him, sheepish. Behind you, the Chief Nurse was shouting at the girls to speed up and a man yelled at them to let him die.

Wanting to bring Alfie some comfort–or maybe to yourself–you brushed a gentle thumb on his forehead, wiping off the soil.

"What happened?" It came out lower than intended, as if afraid to stir things up.

Alfie thought for a minute. His hand started shaking by his side, but he remained calm.

“Got stuck in a mine,” his voice turned more solemn, raspy. “Did everything I could to get out. I don’t think the others made it.”

Hesitantly, you put your hand on the leg that wasn’t hurt and squeezed lightly.

“You’re safe now, Alfie. You can rest up.”

His focus narrowed as if peering through a tunnel; as if all he saw was you and the black circles under your eyes.

“It’s not my blood,” he added, drawing your attention to the red spots on his neck. “There was this wop, clutchin’ at my neck. I shoved a nail all the way up his fuckin’ nose. Watched him die without feelin’ anythin’. Not one sorry feelin’ in my bones, Sadie.”

You knew he was testing you. Knew he was only saying this to see how you would react, and how fast you would run away from him. Only you didn’t, and you didn’t want to. Maybe because he was the only person who’d truly seen you since arriving here beside Ellen, and he was the kind soul you’d prayed to meet for two years. You’d saved him, yes, but you could also think he’d saved you in some ways. With his words, with his understanding.

“You did what you had to do.”

Alfie didn’t say anything. He kept his eyes on the pillow, blinking slowly at the ceiling. The conversation had drained him.

“I…” you swallowed hard, pretending to organise the tools on the trolley by lengths. “I’ll get you some water. For your throat.”

He gave you a small nod, his eyes trained on you as you crossed the tent and went out, barely recognising yourself. His compliance was so soft, so intense, that it made you breathless. It was dangerous to find comfort in this war, knowing it could be taken away at any time. You couldn’t allow your heart to be compromised.

So you didn’t meet his gaze as you handed him the glass of water, staying just close enough to ensure he drank it. Of course, you cared. You just weren’t sure why—or if it even mattered.

Then you walked back to the Tommy you’d tended to, who was now sobbing quietly to himself. Across the room, Alfie seemed to find the sight of you a miracle—his eyes traced your movements, lingering like he was afraid you might disappear if he looked away.

[hoteldreamss]

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 маячишь 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.

— ��о, 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.

[novashelby]

Dance with Me, Mr. Solomons

Pairing: Alfie x Evelyn (Daughter!Shelby)

Warning: Mention of war-slight angst, but overall safe for work. Swearing

Word Count: 1,872

Summary: It is Evie's 30th birthday and all she asks is for some human comfort. Stuck in London with no family, there is only one person she can go to.

Evelyn was a child. No, of course not physically. In fact, right at midnight she was due to celebrate her 30th birthday. With whom? Certainly she couldn’t stand to celebrate alone or with a bunch of girls who clearly thought highly of themselves and lowly of her. Evelyn was a child because she had still craved those intimate moments of childhood. Like celebrating her birthday over a piece of cake surrounded by those who paid attention to her. 

Just before sunset, she wrapped a cake she baked herself in a box. Though not good at many things, Evelyn was decent at baking. Whatever decent meant, but it was edible, sweet, and tolerable. That was the word Alfie would use to describe the texture. Cradled in her arms like a baby, she took the cake through the dark London streets. At sunset, when the darkness took over the little light they had, people were expected to shut down. Traversing through the streets with a chocolate cake, Evelyn walked quickly and close to the buildings. She utilized every alley she could, wiggling her way through the city. 

Admittedly, she hated London, but she supposed she hated it for the same reasons she hated Boston, Paris or Liverpool. Perhaps even Birmingham in some ways. There were remnants of her childhood. Even if she never lived in London before the age of seventeen, there were dark, dingy things that felt far too familiar. She knew there were children and homeless unwed mothers taking home up in those alleys with their palms open, but Evelyn didn’t look. Selfish, and in no way would she deny it, either. For her own sanity and peace, she was selfish.  

It took her forty-five minutes to get to where she needed to get. Expectedly, the gentleman on the other side of the door was not happy about her appearance. He, unlike her, was using the times to hunker down and enjoy solitude in his aging life. She climbed down a set of cement stairs, balancing herself with one hand on a black, wobbly iron railing. There was a brass door knocker in the shape of a lion. Sort of. She knocked a few times with it before knocking harder with her fist. 

A boy…a gentleman. God, she was so used to using some type of language over the years. He was a gentleman as she was a lady. About her age, traditionally Orthodox. Opening the door, he eyed her suspiciously. He didn’t have to say anything. Evelyn knew her appearance was out of the ordinary to him. She smiled, “Shelby, Evelyn Shelby…I’m here to see Mr. Solomons.” Her last name was like a key, really. He allowed her in and with respectable space between them, he led her to another door. Inside was a mere closet. The man has gone mad, she thought. A large distillery, a large home, underground bunkers…this man could have stayed anywhere. Yet, he decided to hunker himself in a mere dusty broom closet. 

The young lad knocked and opened the door at the single sound of a grunt. Hardly even a word! Behind it, he sat like a poor fella. Before the lad could speak, Evelyn pushed her way in, holding out a box. She had even decorated it with a bow. Of course it was only left over ribbon from a shop. Had some soot marks and was fraying a tad, but it was perfect for the occasion. But before Evelyn could say anything, Alfie dropped his head, running his ring clad fingers through his hair. She couldn’t quite make out what he was saying under his breath, but it was definitely something along the lines of fuck and why. “I told them to stop letting you Shelbys in.”

Perplexed, Evelyn frowned slightly, narrowing her eyes. Putting the box down on his makeshift table desk, she commented, “it’s my birthday-”

“And?” What a bloody fucking grouch, she thought. Wonder why he lived alone in a broom closet. Taken aback, she put her hands protectively on the box. If he wasn’t going to be kind, he wouldn’t be allowed to have cake, she decided. Especially one she made herself. His eyes traveled to the lopsided box. “Then what fucking is it then?”

Pouting, she said, “cake. It’s my birthday, weren’t you listening?” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “I’ve got no one to celebrate with and I’m turning thirty.” With his ringed pinky, Alfie lifted the cover the best he could with the ribbon still on. The poor cake looked as if it was run over and then thrown from a cliff. He could lie, he thought. I’m kosher. She would not have known the difference.

“Your father trying to, y’know,” Alfie asked, running his index finger over the line of his neck letting out a sound. She was mortified that he’d think so lowly of her. The same girl-sorry, woman, who saves house flies! 

Huffing, she sat down. “For fucks sake, Mr. Solomons, you’ve gotten paranoid in your old age. It’s cake!” She ripped the bow off of it and flung it behind her. In her purse were two forks. One for him and one for her, no plates. “See?” Showing him the lopsided cake that was almost one with the box. Digging her fork in she took a large helping, shoving it in her mouth lacking any manners. He was quite appalled, mouth agape by her manners. “What?” she asked, mouth stuffed. With her thumb, she cleaned up the corner of her lips and sucked off the chocolate.

“My fuckin’ God,” he whispered. “Didn’t even get the bloody fuckin’ song out!”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up like a tree at Christmas. “You want to sing me happy birthday!? Oh, Mr. Solomons! I’d love to hear you sing in Jewish-”

“Jewish?” he questioned. She couldn’t be Tommy Shelby’s daughter. The girl hardly had two brain cells to rub together. “No, I fuckin’ can’t sing in Jewish.” He took the fork and stabbed around the area she wasn’t eating before putting some to his nose. Sniff sniff. Then he stuck out his tongue, just gently licking it. Smelled alright, tasted alright. He shoved it in his mouth, chewing before the texture hit. “Tolerable,” he complemented. 

“I’ll accept it,” she said. 

In silence, they messed around with the cake, pushing it around with the forks. Every so often, they’d take a small bite. It wasn’t so bad, he thought, realizing it had been quite some time since he had chocolate. She must have paid quite a bit for it. “Whiskey?” he offered randomly, breaking the silent air between them.

“You shouldn’t be drinking, Mr. Solomon,” she said. 

“So you brought cake,” he noted, motioning to it. “And stress?”

Cracking a smile, she shook her head, “no whiskey for me. I don’t drink.” He grabbed the glass bottle and poured himself a heavy hand. Randomly, she commented, “I turn thirty at midnight…I guess. I don’t know.” Alfie gave her a look. Explaining, she forced a smile, “I don’t know my actual birthday.” 

He pitied the girl, really, but there wasn’t much to say. She was, essentially, turning thirty. “It’s just a day until we die.” Stuck in London without family. Perhaps he was doing the right thing despite being a bit hesitant. Then he started to question if Tommy Shelby would do the same? Probably not, that fucker. But it made him happy to have a point higher than him on the morality scale. “Fucking prick,” he said, cheering to that as he downed his brown liquor.

“I’m sorry?” she questioned, not quite hearing him.

“What would you be doing on your birthday if we weren’t, you know, getting fucked by Germans?” He swirled his finger in the air, looking up. 

She thought for a moment, before getting up. “Dance with me!” She extended her arm. “Please? Oh, Mr. Solomons, please have a dance with me! I beg of you!”

“Oh, fuckin’ ‘ell,” he grumbled. There was no music. There wasn’t even a sound. What had she wanted to dance to? The tiny speck of wind whistles? “I don’t dance. We can’t dance-”

“We’ll do ghost hands,” she suggested. “Meaning I won’t touch you and you won’t touch me-”

“That’s stupid,” he commented, but got up. The room being so tiny, his wooden chair hit the bookcase behind him, things toppling over. It was his only entertainment. Well, and temporarily, her. “Ghost arms? Pftt.” 

“Please, Mr. Solomons?” All she wanted was human intimacy. Not in the slightest she meant sexually or even romantically, just connection. She wanted to feel real again. Life. She wanted to feel life. And right in that moment of time, no one was living. There was no life because there was no music or dance or art. Just darkness and war. He joined her around the desk in that small space and hovered his hands over her hips and she did so above his shoulders. It was stupid, really. Pathetic, even. But she wanted to respect his culture. Which he appreciated. It was more than her father ever did. 

But dancing as such was silly. And he felt that God would probably take more of an issue with him not comforting, what he considered a youngin, lost without her family. “Come here,” he whispered, and he didn’t have to ask twice as she rested her body against his. He smelled of dust and whiskey with a hint of woody cologne. Both of them starved of human affection, for one night, relied on one another. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. With her arms tightly wrapped around him, she rocked back and forth. “Why don’t you go home?” he asked, gently, his hand soothingly rubbing up and down her back. 

“I sometimes feel home is worse,” she whispered, and he accepted that. He didn’t argue, he didn’t protest. He left all moments of sarcasm and humor aside, for once. All in the sacrifice of her. Together, they danced to no music, but it was beautiful. Out of all the eeriness, for once it was beautiful. “Thank you, Mr. Solomons.” He answered with a low hum, resting his chin on her head. Never wanting to admit it to anyone, but himself, but Alfie could fall asleep like that. For the first time in a few days, he could truly sleep. 

“You can’t go home tonight at this hour,” he settled. “It’s unsafe-”

“I know,” she admitted, pulling away just enough to look at him. “I can sleep here with you?” There was a mat on the floor made for one person. They both looked at it together and she slowly went to the floor, laying down on it. His blanket and pillow were just as musty as everything else, but it felt warm. She patted the edge and he joined her, taking over the mat. She laid over him, resting her head against his chest, listening to his heart.

“Thank you for having a fuckin’ birthday,” he said, twirling his fingers in her curls.  “You ruined the moment with your language,” she chuckled, letting out a long yawn. “We’ll sleep into the light and never tell my father of a single thing.” Never, he agreed.

[reiwanwan]

A warm place for goodbyes

Summary: Hazel Shelby thought she had left chaos behind when she moved to London, but an unexpected connection with Alfie Solomons challenges everything she thought she wanted

Part 5

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content warning: Mentions of death, Casual Racism, slight violence

1925

A week before Christmas Eve

The morning was cold, the kind of biting chill that crept into your bones and made you want to stay in bed. But the bakery had to open, and the bread wasn’t going to sell itself. I unlocked the door, rubbing my hands together for warmth, and stepped inside, flipping the sign to Open. Everything smelled of flour and yeast, comforting and familiar. I had come to cherish the quiet routine of it all—the simplicity of kneading dough, the small talk with customers.

As I moved behind the counter, my eyes caught on a piece of paper lying near the door. At first, I thought it was just a stray receipt or an advertisement someone had slipped under the door. But when I picked it up, my stomach turned.

It was a photograph of a black hand, stark against the white background. Beneath it, scrawled in elegant handwriting, were the words: Happy Holidays from Luca Changretta and family. I stared at it for a moment, my hands trembling slightly. I knew exactly what it meant. It wasn’t a holiday greeting—it was a warning. A promise. I folded the letter quickly and shoved it into my pocket, trying not to think about it.

The bell above the door jingled, and I turned around, forcing a smile. “Good morning! What can I get for you?”

But it wasn’t a customer. It was Tommy.

“Loaf of bread,” he said finally, his voice as casual as if he were ordering a pint at the Garrison.

I nodded and went to grab a loaf, pretending everything was fine. But I knew better. Tommy didn’t come all the way to London for bread. He was here for something else, and it wasn’t going to be good.

When I placed the loaf on the counter, he leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, “Did you get a letter?”.

My hand froze for a fraction of a second before I shook my head. “Not that I remember.”

His gaze hardened, and I knew he didn’t believe me. He reached into his coat and pulled out a letter, placing it on the counter. It was identical to the one in my pocket—the same black hand, the same chilling message.

“It’s from the Changrettas,” he said, his tone flat. “They’re coming for all of us. Happy holidays, eh?”

I turned to face him, my jaw tightening. “I don’t want to talk about this, Tommy.”

He studied me for a moment, then nodded slightly, as if he understood but didn’t agree. “You need to come back to Small Heath,” he said. “By next week. Everyone will be there for Christmas eve, and it’ll be easier to protect you if we’re all together.”

“I don’t want to go back”.

“It’s your choice,” he replied, slipping the letter back into his pocket. He placed some coins on the counter for the bread and left without another word.

That night, I came home late. Ada wasn’t there, probably off at one of her meetings or running errands. I went into my room, pulled the letter out of my pocket, and sat down at my vanity.

I stared at the black hand, the words mocking me. My mind drifted to something Arthur had said months ago.

It was after the family had gathered for a meeting, all of us crowded into Polly’s parlor. Arthur had been pacing, restless as always, while Polly sat in her chair, her sharp eyes fixed on him.

“I shot him,” Arthur said abruptly, his voice loud and raw. “I shot him for mercy so Tommy wouldn’t keep torturing him.”

Polly had stood up then, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You fool! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Mercy? Mercy, Arthur? You’ve just signed our fucking death warrants!”

Arthur had just shrugged, muttering something about how it had to be done.

Now, sitting in my room, I cursed under my breath. One act of so-called mercy, and now the Changrettas were here to bury us all. Fuckin hell.

The next day

I went to see Alfie. He was down at the docks, his men unloading crates and barrels while he barked orders.

“Hazelnut,” he said when he saw me, his voice softer than usual. “Come to check on me, have you?”

“Something like that,” I said, trying to smile.

We talked for a while, the way we always did, but eventually, I brought up the letter. I knew he already knew about it—Tommy probably told him—but I needed to say it out loud.

“I got one too,” I said quietly.

Alfie nodded, his expression unreadable.

“I was thinking,” I continued, “maybe we could leave. Go to Margate. You’ve always talked about moving there, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his tone was firm. “I’m sorry Hazel. It’s not possible.”

“Why not?” I asked, frustration creeping into my voice.

“Because it just isn’t,” he said, avoiding my gaze.

I sighed, shaking my head. “Alfie—”

“Listen to Tommy,” he interrupted, his voice low and steady. “Go back to Small Heath with your family.”

I looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Hazel,” he said, stepping closer. He gently took my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I’d rather see you safe and alive, dying from natural causes, than lying in a bloody grave because of some big-nosed fucking wop.”

I pursed my lips together and furrowed my brows disapprovingly.

“Have you been walking around without a gun?” he asked suddenly, his tone sharp.

I didn’t answer, which told him enough.

“Christ,” he muttered, pulling a gun from his pocket and handing it to me. “Keep this on you.”

I nodded, tucking it into my jacket. He kissed me then, a quick but lingering kiss, and told me to go home and pack.

When I got home, Ada was there, packing up her things.

“Tommy’s an idiot,” she muttered as she folded clothes. “Arthur’s an idiot. They’re all idiots.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Need help?” I asked.

She nodded, and I started packing too. After a while, she asked me to check on Karl.

I went into his room, watching him sleep peacefully. Sitting down beside him, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Luca and his men wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a child like Karl if it meant getting to us. My family isn’t any better of course. They kill and stain the clothes of those their enemies with their blood. And that’s why I fucking hated being called a Shelby.

When I came back, Ada was talking about her trip to Boston, laughing about the strange American customs she’d seen. But she noticed the look on my face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

I hesitated, then told her about what happened with Alfie.

She gave me a look, one that said she knew exactly how this was going to end. I changed the subject. “What about John? heard you visited him.”

Ada sighed. “I told him to come back to Small Heath, and he said he would. But Esme…” She trailed off. I understood what she meant. John wasn’t coming then.

[evita-shelby]

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.

[violentlyviolettripledecker]

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!

[followsfrankiep]

Haunted (Alfie Solomons x reader)

Chapter 6 - Dealer's Play

Word count: 6k

Previous chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/followsfrankiep/773364695196450816/haunted-alfie-solomons-x-reader

Ollie moved through the bakery, the usual scent of yeast and alcohol hanging in the air but the rhythm of the workers was off, their movements more hesitant, their eyes darting nervously toward the office where Alfie Solomons paced like a caged animal.

It had been weeks since Izzy left, and every day since, Alfie had become more unpredictable, his behavior swinging from volatile outbursts to brooding silence. Ollie had seen the signs—the erratic commands, the cutting remarks, the sleepless nights that left Alfie looking more like a haunted specter than the commanding figure he once was.

"You! Get those fuckin' barrels moved to the other side. And be quick about it!" Alfie's voice sliced through the air, causing the worker to jump and scramble to obey.

Alfie's attention shifted, his voice growing harsher. "And you lot! Do I have to do everything myself? Get a move on!"

Ollie watched from a distance, his mind was heavy with concern. He is Alfie's right hand man for years now, his usual gruff and rough persona is not new to him and he'd known about Alfie's feelings for Izzy, seen the way she brought a rare calm and happiness into his life. But now, without her, the chaos was consuming him - so much than before.

His boss stood there, his shirt untucked, hair unkempt, and his facial hair grew even more darkening his face. The circles under his eyes told the story of countless nights spent driving to Birmingham, hoping to catch a glimpse of Izzy at her flat, only to return with nothing but disappointment, loneliness, and anger.

Each time Ollie approached Alfie's office, Alfie’s eyes would momentarily brighten, a flicker of hope igniting. "Ollie, any word from Izzy? She been by?" Alfie would ask, his tone a mix of impatience and longing.

But every time, Ollie had to shake his head. "Not today, boss."

Alfie would let out a frustrated sigh, the hope extinguishing as quickly as it had appeared. "Bloody hell, Ollie. What's it take for her to show up?"

"Boss, she's the only one who's kept you sane. You do not look... alright.," Ollie thought as he approached cautiously. "What would she say if she saw you now?"

Alfie shot him a glare, eyes blazing with a fire that was as much pain as it was anger. "Alright? Do I look alright, Ollie? Bloody hell, everything's a mess!"

Ollie swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "What's going on, boss? You've been different."

Alfie let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and broken. "Different? That's an understatement, mate. I've been a bloody fool, yeah that's what I am. Let the best thing slip through my fuckin' fingers."

He let his boss ramble on, heavy with unspoken truths. No matter how scary and intimating the old man is infront of him, he knew the man needed to let it out. Ollie had known all along about Alfie's feelings for Izzy, had seen the way she brought a rare happiness into his boss's life. But now, that happiness was a distant memory, replaced by an all-consuming regret.

"Pride, Ollie. Pride's a killer," Alfie muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "Pushed her away when all I needed was right in front of me."

Ollie stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "You still want her back, boss?"

Alfie's gaze softened for a moment, vulnerability flickering in his eyes. He thought about the nights he spent driving to Birmingham, waiting in the shadows, hoping to see her silhouette against the window. "Want her back? I need her, Ollie. But it's not that simple."

Alfie's thoughts turned inward, reflecting on the moments he spent with Izzy. "Izzy is not that kinda girl... She's decided.. all 'cause I fucked it up! What kind of fool does that?"

His frustration erupted again, his hand slamming down on the desk, rattling the items atop it. "Why'd I have to be so bloody stubborn?"

Ollie watched as Alfie's emotions surged between anger and regret, the storm within him raging unchecked. The workers outside glanced nervously toward the office, hearing the muffled sounds of Alfie's outburst but knowing better than to intervene.

Taking a deep breath, Alfie tried to calm himself, the resolve slowly building. "Alright, Alfie. Enough of this. You want her back? Then bloody do something about it."

But instead of making a move to go to Izzy, Alfie sank back into his chair, the weight of his actions settling on him like a heavy cloak. He wasn't ready yet, wasn't sure how to bridge the chasm he'd created.

Ollie stood by, the silence stretching out between them. He knew better than to push. For now, all he could do was be there, a steady presence in the midst of Alfie's turmoil. If he'd make a bet with his future self that he would see the day that the mighty Alfie Solomons would crumble down because of a young woman, he'd be paying off the loss of this moment.

And so the bakery continued to hum with activity, but the heart of it—the man who once commanded with authority and ease—was caught in an unlikely battle he hadn't yet figured out how to win.

-

Michael Gray had returned to Birmingham, his presence immediately shaking up the carefully balanced routines Izzy had established in his absence. Izzy had known he was coming back to work, but seeing him walk through the door of the Shelby Company office still sent a jolt through her system. The office, usually a place where she could find some semblance of control, now felt charged with a not so new energy.

As Michael settled back into his role, Izzy found herself constantly adjusting. It was harder to distance herself since they shared an office. She tried to keep their interactions within her own personal boundaries, restricted to hugs and brief kisses, but there was an underlying tension she couldn't ignore. Every look, every touch, felt like a reminder of the facade she was struggling to maintain.

To keep her distance, Izzy started spending more time with Esme. They talked about everything and nothing, their conversations a way to escape the emotional storm brewing within her. Esme was happy to spend time with her too. Having lunch, tea time, or sometimes helping Lizzy with her kids.

Dinners at the Gray household resumed, and with them came Polly's sharp comments and veiled criticisms. Michael wanted his mum and girlfriend to get along but Polly's presence was a constant reminder of the expectations placed upon Izzy, and she had to navigate the minefield of Polly's words with care. Each meal felt like a test, one she had to pass to keep up the appearance of normalcy.

Despite her best efforts to maintain control, the emotional turmoil within Izzy was undeniable. She avoided going back to the boxing gym, knowing Alfie might be there. The pain of their last encounter was still fresh, and she wasn't ready to face him. Alfie had been a source of strength and passion, but the tangled web of their relationship had left her feeling vulnerable.

-

In a newly established hotel and casino, a private poker table in a dimly lit corner became the stage for the tense game. The clinking of glasses and murmurs of other players provided a backdrop to their high-stakes match.

Michael had just returned from handling their operations in the States, his confidence high but tempered by the expectations placed upon him. Once the golden boy, he had been expected to take the baton from Tommy. He had brought Izzy to Birmingham as his queen, but as the game progressed, the realization dawned on him that things were changing.

Tommy dealt the first hand, pouring them each a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the low light. "Welcome back, Michael," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "We have a lot to catch up on."

Confidence unwavering, Michael nodded. "Good to be back, Tommy."

With fingers steepled together, Tommy leaned back as he eyed his cards. "I need you to handle the gunpowder operations. We've got some rivals sniffing around, and I want our supply secured."

Michael's expression grew serious as he examined his poor hand. "Consider it done, Tommy. I'll take care of it."

Attention shifted to Izzy, Tommy's eyes narrowing as he gauged her confidence. "Izzy, you're still with Alfie on the rum shipment. It's about to go out soon and I trust you'll handle it efficiently."

Hesitating, Izzy took a deep breath, looking at her cards with a stoic expression. "Actually, Tommy, I think it would be best if Michael takes over the rum export operations as well. I've got my hands full with your work at the Labor MP and the usual operations in the Company."

Tommy's eyes narrowed slightly, studying her before glancing at Michael, who looked surprised but willing. "Alright, Izzy. If that's what you want. Michael, you think you can handle it?"

His eyes filled with adoration, Michael glanced at Izzy. "Of course, Tommy. I'll make sure everything goes smoothly."

Izzy's voice remained firm as she added, "I'll guide him if he needs help, but I really need to focus on my other responsibilities."

Considering this, Tommy nodded, his gaze shifting to his cards. "Alright, Michael. Just make sure you don't let any personal feelings get in the way of the job."

Defensive, Michael peeked at his cards again. "I won't."

The game continued, the tension rising with each round. The dealer dealt the flop: Ace of hearts, Ten of spades, and Six of diamonds. Izzy's eyes lit up as she saw her hand: a pair of Aces. Michael, on the other hand, had a King and a Nine of clubs, leaving him in a precarious position. Tommy held a Jack and a Seven of hearts, appearing nonchalant.

Leaning back, Tommy took a sip of his whiskey and exhaled a plume of smoke. "In this business, you need to think three steps ahead," he said, his voice calm and composed.

Izzy smiled, her victory within reach, but Tommy's words carried weight. She knew not to let her guard down. Every move Tommy made, every word he spoke, felt like a lesson. He was mentoring her in his own way, teaching her the art of strategy and foresight.

Michael's hands trembled slightly as he placed his bet, trying to mask his anxiety. The turn card was revealed: Queen of clubs, elevating Izzy's hand to a strong position. Tommy's expression remained unreadable as he pushed a significant stack of chips into the center, a confident smirk on his face.

Glancing at Tommy, Michael felt a pang of frustration. He couldn't shake the feeling that Tommy's attention was shifting towards Izzy. The realization gnawed at him, making his confidence waver. With a sigh, he laid down his hand, forfeiting the game. "I'm out," he said, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil.

The final showdown was between Izzy and Tommy. The river card was turned: Nine of hearts. Izzy had the best hand with her pair of Aces and the Queen, but Tommy's demeanor never wavered. He exhaled another plume of smoke, his eyes locked onto Izzy's.

"You're bluffing," Izzy said, her voice steady but her eyes betraying a flicker of doubt.

Tommy's smirk widened. "Am I? Call, and find out."

Hesitation overcame Izzy as her fingers hovered over her chips. Despite having the winning hand, Tommy's confidence was unnerving. Finally, she folded her cards, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

Tommy laid down his hand, revealing his bluff. Despite his weaker cards, his psychological play had worked. He exhaled a plume of smoke, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Remember," Tommy said, looking at both of them, "it's not just about the cards you're dealt. It's how you play them."

Shifting the conversation, Tommy continued, "Welcome to our newest acquisition," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "This place is now part of the Shelby Company Limited. We're expanding into gambling."

Michael and Izzy exchanged glances, both understanding the gravity of Tommy's words. Michael's frustration deepened, sensing that Tommy was slowly favoring Izzy. His position in the company felt threatened, not just by the game but by the dynamics unfolding before him.

As they all rose from the table, Tommy turned to Izzy and said, "You're on your way to win, Izzy. Don't let anyone distract you."

Michael's eyes narrowed, his resolve hardening. He knew he had to prove himself, not just to Tommy but to himself and to Izzy. The game was far from over. The realization hit him hard—Tommy held all the cards.

-

A few days later, Alfie Solomons stood at the center of the shipyard, barking orders at his men. It was the day of the export, all of the hardwork he and Izzy has put into this operation will soon bear its fruit. However, Alfie is not exactly the happiest man at that moment.

"Move it! We don't have all day!" Alfie shouted, his voice carrying over the noise, his eyes scanning the scene for any sign of Izzy. He couldn't shake the unease that had settled in his gut.

"Ollie, has Izzy arrived yet?" he asked, his impatience growing.

"No, boss," Ollie replied, shaking his head.

Alfie let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Bloody hell. What's keeping her?"

As the work continued, Alfie's agitation grew. He paced the shipyard, his mind racing with thoughts of Izzy. She'd been a steady presence, a rock in the midst of chaos. He has been expecting to see her today.

Just as he was about to lose his temper, Ollie called out to him again.

"Boss, someone's here to see you."

Alfie turned, expecting to see the woman he longed for, but his face fell when he saw Michael Gray approaching. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Izzy was back with Michael all this time. His expression hardened as Michael drew closer.

Michael offered a polite smile, though it was tinged with unease. "Alfie, good to see you."

Alfie's eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with condescension. "Michael Gray. Didn't expect to see you here. Where's Izzy?"

"Izzy's busy working with Tommy back in Birmingham. I'm here to oversee the shipment."

The older man crossed his arms, his gaze piercing. He was not buying it. "Funny, isn't it? Izzy's been handling this operation from the start. Now you're here to take over. Makes one wonder why."

Michael straightened, his tone firm. "Tommy trusts me to handle this. And I trust Izzy's judgment."

Alfie let out a low chuckle, the sound laced with malice. "Trust, eh? Trust is a fragile thing, Michael. Easily broken." He leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting with a hint of something more. "You know, I've always found it fascinating how well Izzy and I work together. There's a certain... understanding between us."

Understanding that he's trying to get under his skin, Michael tried to rise above Alfie's barbs, focusing on the task at hand. "Let's get this shipment off without a hitch, shall we?"

Alfie's expression remained cold, but he nodded. "Fine. But remember, Michael, this is my territory. You'd do well to respect that."

The two men moved through the shipyard, giving orders to the workers and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Alfie's condescending comments continued, each one a subtle dig at Michael's competence.

As they worked, Alfie couldn't resist another jab. "You know, Michael, Izzy always had a knack for this sort of thing. Shame she couldn't be here. We did some of our best work together, really."

Michael's eyes darkened, but he kept his voice steady. "She's doing important work with Tommy. We'll manage here."

The rain picked up, the drizzle turning into a steady downpour. The workers hurried to finish loading the ship, their movements more cautious on the slick planks. Alfie watched them, his mind a tumult of emotions. Every barrel loaded onto the ship felt like another nail in the coffin of his relationship with Izzy.

Alfie leaned in closer to Michael, his voice low and hinting at deeper truths. "It's interesting, isn't it? How some people can have such a profound impact on your life. Izzy's definitely one of those people."

Michael's resolve finally cracked. "You know, Alfie, Izzy warned me about your tendencies. She told me how you can be... difficult. It explains why she was fussing over me this morning. She knew I'd have to deal with you."

Alfie felt a sharp pang of jealousy and pain just at the thought of Izzy taking care of another man. The memories of her caring for him flashed through his mind—the way she tended to him when his sciatica acted up, the gentle touch of her hands, the warmth of her presence whenever they were together. His chest tightened with longing and regret.

Alfie masked his pain with a cold smile. "Did she now? Well, I suppose she was just looking out for you, Michael. As she always does."

The ship's horn blared, signaling the final preparations for departure. Alfie and Michael stood on the dock, watching as the last of the barrels were loaded onto the ship. The workers moved with purpose, their steps quick and deliberate despite the rain-slicked planks.

Alfie turned to Michael, his expression inscrutable. "Well, Michael, looks like you managed to get it done. For now."

Michael nodded, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Thanks for your... assistance, Alfie. I'll be sure to pass along your regards to Izzy."

Alfie's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, simply watching as Michael walked away. As the ship began to pull away from the dock, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. Izzy's absence was a void he couldn't ignore, and the realization that she was with Michael only fueled his frustration. His thoughts churned with memories of her—the way she laughed, the way she made him feel alive.

The rain continued to fall, the shipyard emptying as the workers finished their tasks. Alfie stood alone, his thoughts consumed by the woman who had left a mark on his heart and the man who now stood between them.

The ship disappeared into the horizon, the dark silhouette fading into the mist. Alfie remained rooted to the spot, the weight of his unspoken feelings and the reality of his situation bearing down on him. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—jealousy, regret, longing. He clenched his fists, struggling to hold onto the fragments of his composure.

The rain washed over him, mingling with the sweat on his brow. He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself down. The image of Izzy fussing over Michael haunted him, a cruel reminder of what he had lost.

-

On the other hand, her day had been long and demanding. Izzy had spent hours assisting Tommy in Parliament, navigating the political landscape and managing the intricate details of his Labor MP paperwork. Her mind was still buzzing with the complexities of the day's work.

The city of Birmingham rushed past the windows of Tommy's car as they were driven back. Inside the car, the atmosphere was heavy with the day's tension and unspoken thoughts. Tommy Shelby and Izzy sat in the backseat, their expressions reflecting the weight of their responsibilities. Izzy was doing her best to distract herself with the paperwork, knowing that the rum export was taking place today.

Breaking the silence, Tommy's voice was calm but probing. "Letting Michael go to the shipment alone, was that your idea?"

Without looking up from the papers, Izzy responded. "Yes, I thought it was important for Michael to feel in charge."

A slight smirk played on Tommy's lips as he nodded. "You know how to play the game. I'll give you that." He paused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "But I've been watching you. You were so lively and proactive with the rum export. Now, suddenly, you pass your work to Michael."

Izzy's response was cold and measured, her eyes still on the documents. "It's about what's best for the company."

Narrowing his eyes, Tommy studied her reaction. "Is it? Because it looks to me like there's someone else who's got your attention." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "You are distracted, Izzy."

Her hands paused, heart racing. Was it that obvious? Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady herself before slowly looking up from the papers, meeting his gaze. "What are you saying?"

Unwavering, Tommy replied. "I've got an upcoming transaction with the Russians. It's a delicate matter, and I need someone I can trust. A certain jeweler, someone who knows the business inside out."

A chill ran down her spine as she realized who Tommy was referring to. Alfie Solomons. The name sent a wave of conflicting emotions through her. She turned to fully face him, eyes narrowing. "And you think I can make that happen?"

Tommy's expression remained serious. "You have a way with people. Especially with Alfie. If you can get him on board with this transaction, it would benefit the company immensely."

Her mind raced. She had tried so hard to distance herself from Alfie, to keep their worlds separate. The last thing she wanted was to be used as a pawn in Tommy's game. "I told you before, I will not be used like that. I won't talk to Alfie, nor see him."

Leaning back slightly, Tommy's tone was reassuring. "You don't have to. You just need to be where I want you to be. Leave the rest to me."

The car fell into a heavy silence, the weight of Tommy's words lingering in the air. She knew he was right in his own way, but she couldn't let her feelings for Alfie cloud her judgment. She had to stay focused, for the sake of the company and for herself.

They arrived Shelby Company Limited around late afternoon. Michael was seated inside of Tommy's office, waiting for them to arrive. The hum of typewriters and distant chatter from the adjacent rooms barely registered in his mind. He was consumed by the events of the day.

Resting his head in his hands, Michael replayed the confrontation with Alfie over and over again. The rum export had been a success, but it left him frustrated and seething. Alfie's constant interference and undermining remarks had gnawed at his confidence. He felt the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him, amplified by the ever-present shadow of Izzy's competence and past achievements.

The door creaked open, and Tommy entered the office, followed closely by Izzy. The tension in the air was almost tangible as Tommy's eyes flicked to Michael, assessing his cousin's demeanor.

"Michael," Tommy greeted curtly, taking his seat behind the desk. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it, the flame briefly illuminating his face. Izzy offered a brief nod, her expression neutral but her eyes holding a hint of concern as she noticed Michael's tense posture.

Exhaling a plume of smoke, Tommy leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "Tell us about the shipment. I heard it went well."

Straightening, Michael tried to mask his irritation. "Yes, it went well. The shipment was successful, but Alfie... he made things difficult. He questioned our methods, interfered with the process. It was a constant battle."

Tommy's gaze remained steady, but his lips curled into a faint, almost dismissive smile. "Childish complaints, Michael. If you're going to take on responsibilities like this, you need to handle them like a professional. You think Alfie respects whining?"

His frustration grew, but Michael forced himself to remain calm. "It's not whining, Tommy. Alfie undermined our efforts at every turn."

Sensing the rising tension and feeling a pang of sympathy for Michael, Izzy stepped forward, her voice soothing. "You did well, Michael. Alfie can be challenging, but you managed to get the job done."

As she spoke, Izzy couldn't help but recall her own encounters with Alfie and the challenges she had faced. She understood the pressure Michael was under and wanted to offer him some support. Seeing Michael struggle pained her, especially knowing how hard he'd tried.

Tommy's eyes narrowed, his focus shifting to Izzy. "You know, when Izzy took charge of this operation from the beginning, she didn't let Alfie or anyone else get under her skin. She got the job done without any drama."

The comparison stung. Michael felt the fire of resentment burning within him. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

Izzy glanced at Michael, noticing his growing tension. She felt a mixture of empathy and frustration—empathy for the pressure he was under and frustration at Tommy's harsh words. "Tommy, the shipment was successful, and that's what matters."

As he took another drag from his cigarette, Tommy responded. "Sure, Izzy. But success doesn't come from avoiding conflict. It comes from handling it."

Humiliated and inadequate, Michael's anger simmered beneath the surface. His mind raced with thoughts of proving himself. He stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the wooden floor.

"I need to step out for a moment," he muttered, his voice tight. Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the office, leaving Tommy and Izzy behind.

Watching him go, Izzy felt a flicker of concern. "That was harsh. He's trying his best."

Impassive as ever, Tommy exhaled another plume of smoke. "Harsh is what he needs, Izzy. If he can't handle the pressure, he shouldn't be in this business."

Sighing, Izzy knew there was no changing Tommy's mind once it was made up. She could only hope that Michael would find a way to rise above the challenges and prove his worth. As she returned to her work, thoughts of Michael's frustration and the weight of expectations he carried lingered in her mind.

Later that evening, tension hung heavy in the air as Izzy found Michael pacing back and forth in their shared office. She closed the door behind her, the soft click echoing in the silence. His restless movements reflected the turmoil inside him.

"Michael," she called softly, walking towards him. "We need to talk."

He stopped pacing, turning to face her with a mix of anger and frustration. "What is there to talk about, Izzy? Tommy doesn't believe in me. He thinks I'm a child."

Taking a deep breath, Izzy tried to keep her voice steady. "Tommy is harsh, but he's trying to push you to be better. You can't let his words get to you."

Stepping closer, Michael pointed a finger at her. "Easy for you to say. You're his favorite. You're the one he trusts with everything."

The sting of his words hit Izzy, but she stood her ground. "Michael, we're supposed to be partners. We're supposed to support each other. This isn't a competition."

Pacing again with agitated steps, he scoffed. "Maybe it's time you took a backseat for once. Or better yet, maybe you should just stop working."

Disbelief washed over her as she followed his movements with her eyes. "You're asking me to give up everything I've worked for? Just to make you feel better?"

Turning to face her again, his jaw tightened. "Yes, Izzy. Maybe that's exactly what I'm asking. I'm tired of always feeling like I'm second best."

"Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe you are a child. A child who can't handle the pressure and needs someone else to blame for his own insecurities." Izzy said coldly. She's had enough of this.

Fury twisted Michael's face. "So, you think I'm a child too. You're no different from him."

Patience snapping, Izzy's frustration boiled over. "What kind of support do you need, Michael? I came here all the way from Brooklyn for you! I stood by your side, dealing with your mom, and this is how you treat me? By asking me to give up my work, the reason why I left home?"

His expression faltered for a moment, but pride kept him from backing down. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under, Izzy. You make it look so easy."

Shaking her head, she found it hard to comprehend his mindset. "You think it's easy for me? Every day I fight to prove myself to this family. A family which you're already a part of. But I don't let my insecurities turn me into an asshole."

Their voices had grown louder, thickening the tension in the room. Passing by, Esme and Lizzy paused, exchanging concerned glances as they overheard the escalating argument.

Grabbing her bag, Izzy started packing her things, her movements sharp and angry. "You know what, Michael? I'm done coddling you. If you can't handle the pressure, maybe it's better if we don't speak for a while."

Stunned into silence, Michael watched her walk to the door. Upon opening it, she saw Esme and Lizzy standing in the hallway, their looks filled with concern. Giving them a brief nod, Izzy left, feeling a mix of anger and sadness.

-

The sound of tires crunching on the gravel announced Alfie Solomons' arrival at the Shelby Mansion. His car came to a halt, and the driver opened the door. Stepping out, Alfie adjusted his coat and hat as he took in the imposing structure of the mansion before him.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and one of Tommy's men greeted him, leading him through the opulent halls of the mansion. Alfie smirked at the ostentatious display of wealth and power, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Finally, they reached a large room where Tommy stood by the fireplace, staring into the dancing flames. The crackling fire filled the silence as Alfie entered, his presence commanding and unmistakable.

Turning from the fireplace, Tommy's eyes narrowed with a slight smirk. "Morning, Alfie. Glad you could make it."

Alfie scrutinized his surroundings, removing his hat and taking a slow, deliberate step forward. "Yeah, well, you know, Tom... I'm a bit curious why you'd drag me out to the middle of the goddamn forest first thing in the morning."

Tommy's smirk widened as he motioned for Alfie to take a seat. "We have important matters to discuss."

Settling into a nearby chair, Alfie crossed his arms, his curiosity piqued. "Alright, Tom. What's this all about?"

Tommy's expression turned serious as he took a deep breath. "I'm about to strike a deal with the Russians. They have some valuable jewelry, and I need your expertise to appraise and handle it."

The mention of the Russians made Alfie's demeanor shift, a frown creasing his forehead. "The Russians, eh? You know I don't like dealing with them. Bunch of dishonest bastards, the lot of them."

The truth is, Tommy anticipated his resistance. "I'm aware of your feelings, Alfie. But this deal could be highly profitable for both of us. Your mastery of jewelry is unparalleled, and I need someone I can trust. Besides, you'll get your cut from the profits too."

The Jewish man wasn't convinced. Leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. "Trust, is it? You think throwing a few shiny trinkets my way is gonna make me forget who we're dealing with?"

Tommy leaned forward, his voice dropping to a menacing tone. "There's another job I plan to give to Izzy."

The mention of Izzy made Alfie's demeanor shift. "Izzy, eh? What's this job you're talking about?"

Tommy's eyes narrowed further, a sinister edge in his smile. "She's been taking a step back from our operations. She's even let Michael take over tasks we both know he's not... knowledgeable of handling."

A snicker escaped Alfie, his amusement clear. The flickering shadows added an eerie edge to his smirk. "That lad's an incompetent child, that's what he is. Can't believe Izzy puts up with him."

Tommy's smile turned more calculating as he continued, "To compensate for her lost work, I've informed some of my business partners and certain politicians about Izzy's... companionship. I believe you know what that means, Alfie."

A surge of anger welled up inside Alfie, his fists clenching at his sides. The shadows seemed to close in around him. How dare Tommy use Izzy as leverage? His protectiveness over her intensified. Alfie's jaw tightened, his rage simmering beneath the surface. The room felt colder, the tension palpable. He leaned forward, eyes locked on Tommy's.

"You ruthless son of a bitch, Tom. Using Izzy to get what you want..." He took a deep breath, trying to contain the fury that threatened to boil over. Thoughts of Izzy filled his mind—the woman he cared for, being used as a pawn in Tommy's game. He wanted to lash out, to make Tommy regret his words, but he knew he had to play it smart. The stakes were too high.

"You know, Tom, I've met some right bastards in my time, but you—you're something special. I should knock that smug look off your face, but I'll tell you what... I'll play your game. For now."

Alfie's voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl, his eyes never leaving Tommy's. "But if anything happens to her, if she gets hurt because of this... I'll personally deliver you to God himself. You hear me, Tommy?"

Tommy's eyes met Alfie's with a steely resolve. He understood the depth of Alfie's anger and the seriousness of his threat. "Agreed, Alfie. We'll make sure nothing happens to her. We have a deal."

Alfie sat in heavy silence, he could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. Every fiber of his being wanted to lash out, but he knew he had to keep his composure for Izzy's sake. They weren't on speaking terms anymore—Izzy's absence had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. But that didn't change how he felt. He was determined to save her from Tommy's machinations, no matter what it took.

Rising from his chair with a grunt, Alfie put his hat back on with a swift motion. He fixed Tommy with a hard stare. "When I take Izzy away, Tom, make sure there's no disturbances. Keep Michael and the rest of your lot on a tight leash. I ain't got time for their antics."

With that, Alfie turned on his heel and strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing through the halls. The weight of their agreement hung heavily in the air, as the door closed behind him.

Tommy Shelby lit his cigarette, the faint trail of smoke curling up toward the ceiling. The room was still thick with the tension from his meeting with Alfie. He watched through the window as Alfie's car screeched away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Satisfaction crept across his face, the proposition secured.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open once more. Tommy's gaze shifted to the entrance, where Izzy appeared, clutching a folder of parliament paperwork, blissfully unaware of the storm that had just passed.

Tommy's smirk widened as he realized how narrowly Alfie and Izzy had missed each other. Minutes apart. Just minutes.

"Izzy, just in time," Tommy greeted, his tone smooth and almost mocking.

"Tommy, here's the paperwork you need for tonight," Izzy said, handing over the folder.

Tommy took the folder, the weight of it grounding him in the present moment, yet his mind danced with the sinister intricacies of his plans. The web of alliances and betrayals spun ever tighter around him.

"We've got another business meeting to attend to. Let's go," he said, his voice carrying an undertone of hidden machinations.

As they walked out of the house, Tommy couldn't help but reflect on the eerie precision of his orchestration. Alfie, Izzy, Michael—they were all pawns in his game, moving exactly as he intended. The cold morning air hit his face, but his resolve was unshaken.

He glanced at Izzy, who remained oblivious to the full extent of his schemes. To her, it was just another task. But to Tommy, it was a carefully laid trap, every piece falling into place. The game was far from over, and he was determined to emerge victorious.

Izzy, still unaware of the near-miss encounter with the man she loved, and the sinister plans swirling around her, followed Tommy to the car. As they drove away, an uneasy silence settled between them, a stark reminder of Tommy's intricate schemes.

-

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