#alfie solomons drabble

[imaginesbymk]

Peaky Blinders Drabble.

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Prompt: #2 “Open this door or I’ll bust it down until it breaks, or something like that.” and #37 “I love you, okay?”

Requested by @fangirlsarah16

—ALFIE WAS POUNDING on the door now. It made you jump, but you stayed curled up in your bed in the bedroom you both shared, still in the middle of crying over the nasty fight you two had.

You didn’t know whether to unlock the door or to give yourself another heartbreak by not answering him. Either one was gonna break you, because all you could do was just cry.

“Y/n, you’re making me feel like a twat,” Alfie‘s voice went muffled through the door. “Open this door or I’ll bust it down until it breaks, or something like that.”

That made you look at the frame. Neither of you could afford repairing the door or even replacing it with a new one if he was being serious about breaking it open. Whatever. You slowly got up and threw it open. He first noticed your face, and you looked messy when you cried. His frustration had to die down just a little because he bare to see see you turn red any longer.

“I love you, okay?” He says softly. He held his hands out for you. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make you stop crying. I’m sorry I lashed out on you, I’ll do better. All right?”

//

tags — @ladyxblake @lotsoffandomimagines @amirahiddleston

[clairecrive]

Hello!! Could you write a Alfie Solomons x reader where he goes to a meeting with Tommy only to find him and reader arguing/negotiating about something, meanwhile Arthur's bleeding out and her refusing to help Arthur until Tommy lets her win? I feel like Alfie would have instant heart eyes!

A/n: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while. It's more of a blurb, but it was fun to get back to it. I feel like Alfie's really into badass women. especially ones that make Shelby's life hell. let me know if you wanna be tagged in my next pieces. enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

"Love at first blood"| Alfie Solomons x reader

"Now, Mister Shelby, I'm sure you'll agree with me but alliances should be equal otherwise you'll risk for your partner to look for a more advantageous deal elsewhere."

"Is that a threat?"

"Merely stating a fact, I'm sure you know more than me on the matter. Do you not?"

"Aye."

"So, you'll agree to my terms then?"

Tommy's mouth opened as if to speak but Arthur's groan hijacked his attention. While his eyes never moved from y/n's, Alfie could see his jaw clenching. And he knew it for it was, a telltale sign of a decision made.

"Provided you aid my brother here."

"But of course. A deal is a deal." Magnanimously, she ripped out a piece of fabric from her long skirt and went to wrap it tightly on the oldest Shelby's leg.

"Here," she said making one last knot in the bandage. Arthur groaned in response. Not many people could put the fear of God in such a reckless man like him. You, however, were on top of that list. If he could, he'd crawl far away from you.

Words were good and all and y/n knew that after her little demonstration, the deal was closed; still, she spat on her hand and offered it to Tommy to do the same.

Once the pact was officially sealed, y/n nodded in Tommy's direction and turned around to leave.

That's when she noticed a man standing at the threshold. He wasn't very tall nevertheless, he managed to portray an imposing aura that, y/n was sure, worked perfectly in his line of work.

The cane and the wide-brim hat were enough to confirm his identity. Y/n had never met Alfie Solomons. They didn't run in the same circle, to put it simply.

Running into the Shelbys had resulted from an unfortunate series of events caused by incompetent men in her life. She wasn't so keen to repeat that experience.

However, if she had to be honest, she had to admit that Solomon's piercing eyes intrigued her. Especially the way he was looking at her, with a mix of admiration, fear, and interest.

"Fucking hell," the man of the hour spoke, and oh my god. His voice.

His fucking voice.

She tried her best to conceal her body's primal reaction to the sound. However, she couldn't help but stay put and wait for what he had to say.

"I've never seen such a small fucking thing put the fear of God in a man," Alfie pointed his cane in their general direction before tipping his hat to her.

"You should never underestimate a woman, Mr. Solomons," y/n quipped with a sly smile.

"Ah pet, am not a fucking fool, am I?" he chuckled with mirt.

The tension in the room was palpable and it wasn't the kind that had been previously present. Oh, no. This one was fire.

It was only Tommy clearing his voice that broke the eye contact between you and Alfie.

"Well gentlemen, my business here is done. I'll leave you to it," she nodded at Alfie as she walked past him. "Thomas, the pleasure was all yours as always."

The last thing y/n heard before leaving was the wonder in Alfie's voice as he demanded to know who was that fucking vengeful angel he had just met.

[acewritesfics]

Drabble 02 | Alfie Solomons - Gif Drabble

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Request: from @/tea-atfive

Warnings: None

Word Count: 198

“What are you doing here?” Alfie hears the stern voice of his wife say from the door way of his office.

“Fuck me. I needed to get up and walk around for a bit. Joints are going all stiff lying in bed all day,” he frowns slightly as a grunt of pain leaves his lips. 

“If you don’t rest, you won’t heal,” she frowns at him disapprovingly.

“And if I don’t move around, my hip will cease up and I’ll be a lot worse,” he groans standing up, the bullet wound not being the one that was causing him pain at this moment. 

“Just take it easy, would you,” she continued to frown at him knowing it would be pointless to argue with the headstrong man she married three years ago.

“I’ll be fine, Sweetie,” he promises. “Many people have tried to kill me and I’m still here.”

“You won’t be if you keep ignoring your wife,” she mumbles more to herself.

Ignoring what she says he tells her, “I love you,” as she leaves his office.

“I love you too, you stubborn oaf,” he hears her shout back to him as she walks further away from him.

[rei-is-still-here]

A gift for Mr Solomons

This is a silly little drabble (?) about Tommy gifting Alfie with a Great Dane. Thought about Alfie and one a lot, but do tell me what other dog breeds you think would suit Alfie!

No warnings!

Alfie was called to the one place he would never visit deliberately: Small Heath. The only reason he was there was because Thomas fucking Shelby had asked for “help.” And being the helpful Samaritan and saint that he is, Alfie, of course, gracefully agreed to assist his good friend in need.

“So, Tommy, I have brought my holy presence here to bless you with whatever shit you’ve gotten yourself into,” Alfie said as he swaggered into the room, arms wide open.

Tommy smirked playfully. “Well, Alfie… I’ve gotten myself in trouble indeed. And I think you’re the best person for this.” Alfie grunted, clearly pleased with what he was hearing.

Tommy disappeared into another room and told him to wait outside. Alfie was expecting him to return with jewelry—maybe something stolen from a royal family—or at the very least something useful, like more rum to sell. But he was definitely not expecting Tommy Shelby to walk out of that room holding a leash—attached to a massive Great Dane.

“Here you are, Alfie. A new dog for you.”

Alfie stared, silent for a moment.

“Nah, that’s not a fuckin’ dog, mate. That’s if a dog mated with a blind horse. Fuckin’ hell… you’re not givin’ it to me, are you?”

“I killed his owner. And the dog happened to be there, Alfie. I can’t keep him. He’ll shit and piss everywhere.”

“This is fuckin Small Heath, Thomas! Everyone shits and pisses everywhere!” Alfie snapped, exasperated—though he was already crouching down and absently rubbing the dog’s belly.

“Well, that’s why I called you,” Tommy teased, trying to hide a smile. “Was hoping you’d take him. Maybe give Cyril a friend.”

Alfie grumbled something about Tommy being a right bastard—which, at that moment, he absolutely was.

“Fine, I’ll take him. Mainly because I know you won’t allow me to say no. Nah, scratch that—sayin’ no weren’t even an option, was it? You know why? Because you’re a selfish bastard. You kill a poor lad and then you give his best friend to me.”

Tommy tried to stifle a laugh, covering his mouth as Alfie continued muttering.

Then Tommy knelt down, scratched the Great Dane’s chin,

“Then that’s settled, now. Ain’t that right, Solomon?”

[novashelby]

"My Obsession"-Alfie Solomons x Reader

Pairing: Aflie Solomons x Reader Warning: Not really smut, but deals with a kink Word Count: 201 Summary: Aflie is obsessed with her, but only under one condition. When she is covered in his knots.

I wrote this because me and @wonderlanddreamer challenged each other to write a drabble for a theme and a character. I also cannot fully accept credit for the plot. Me and another friend were talking about Alfie kinks...

He was obsessed with the way it looked over her skin; tight and unbreakable. Rope was truly a beautiful thing. It snaked around her body, leaving its beauty marks. And the knots the sturdy fibers could make were just as intricate and divine; his ringed fingers traced over them with such intensity and fulfillment. The woman bound by his art could only feel like a piece on his mantel. During the day, clothed and conventional, he regarded her as he would most. But like this, she was his canvas and an unholy obsession filled him like nothing else. This was his pleasure. His left hand, essentially. Most times, he hardly cared about natural needs. The mental stimulation of her bound was enough to soothe whatever urges he had. 

But when he did fuck her, it always had to be like that. It is how she looked most beautiful, most enticing, most…unearthly, but something greater. When his hands pulled the last knot in place and she rested wherever he had wanted her, he became the Jekyll to his Hide. A switch flipped and his fixation took over his body. For hours and hours, until his eyelids felt heavy, he watched and admired.

[alicent-targaryen]

BUTCHER!ALFIE

She takes another wrong turn and ends at the lowest level of the manor. The repetitive sound of metal clinking against something attracts her to a half-open door. “Mrs. Shelby.” She is startled by a rumbling voice coming from the dimly lit kitchen. “Couldn’t wait to meet your dinner?” She feels a chill run down her spine at the odd choice of words. The man behind the countertop is wearing a red-stained apron. He continues swinging his meat cleaver against the cutting board, sorting cuts and discarding innards with ease. “W…who are you?” She asks, shaking. “I’m Mr. Solomons. The new butcher.” He keeps slicing meat like she isn't standing there shell-shocked from previous frights in a bloody dress that used to be white. “What happened to the last?” A stupid question, really. The flesh looks too strange and sinewy to be from any animal she knows. What further horrors could that house have in store for her? A wicked smirk lights up Mr. Solomon’s face slowly. “Oh, Mrs. Shelby. You really shouldn't have wandered tonight.”

for @zablife's 2k followers celebration

[kind-wolf]

"Doesn't matter?!" he exclaimed, his grip tightening.

Now you set him off!

He doesn't care, not anymore. Alfie let you go once, it will not happen again. He will make sure you are safe, whatever it takes.

The One That Got Away

modern gangster!Alfie Solomons x undercover cop!Reader

Summary: this prompt in this AU

Warnings: it's Alfie... so language, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (sort of, not yet bc you know, idiots), you are hurt and Alfie is ready to kill anyone who was involved in it 🥰

You silently prayed he would keep his bad habit of working late so you could find him in his office at his first and favourite bar.

Sighing in relief when the back door opened after a few knocks, you barely held yourself up with one hand on the doorframe while your other palm pressed on the wound on your abdomen.

"What the fuck?" the man standing in front of you exclaimed so loudly you winced at the volume.

Before you could answer though, your remaining strength just left you and you ended up collapsing into his arms. The last thing you were aware of was his worried expression looking down at you.

Waking up to the doctor on Alfie's payroll stitching you up was not how you imagined your day would go. The gangster held you down as the doctor worked and you weren't spared from the questioning even in the midst of pain.

"What the fuck happened?" was Alfie's first question, not even waiting for an answer before the next followed with a growling tone that sent shivers down your spine. "Who did this to you?"

"Doesn't... matter," you wheezed, fighting to stay conscious.

"Doesn't matter?!" he exclaimed, his grip tightening.

"Not...your problem."

"Well, it is my bloody problem now, isn't it? With you fucking bleeding out on my fucking couch from a fucking bullet wound."

You grit your teeth as you answer. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

He sighs and you could leave it at that but you know the man, if he doesn't get the answers from you, he will look elsewhere and you couldn't let that happen. You couldn't put him at risk.

As the doctor just finished, Alfie let you go, not anticipating that you'd try to stand up.

"I will get out of here and you can forget this ever happened," is all you could say before your knees buckled and you collapsed again.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

You wince at the yell as Alfie lifts you up and tells the doctor to get out. You expected him to put you back on the couch but he sits down with you, not letting you out of his arms.

He sighs again, trying to calm down, at least enough to get proper answers out of you. Then he huffs as you refuse to meet his eyes.

"You will tell me who shot you and I will take care of it," he murmurs his demand while pressing his forehead against the side of yours. At that you can't resist anymore, you look up at the man who made you question everything you ever believed in and once again, for the millionth time since you've known him, you are tempted to kiss him and if his flickering gaze is any indication, he might feel the same pull too.

Squirming in his lap results in a sharp stab of pain and you gasp before turning away, hiding your face against his bloodied shirt. He feels your tears but you don't make a sound, not even as he hugs you closer, trying to give you some comfort.

"I didn't want to drag you into this," is an apology and pleading at the same time, with the "he's a cop" as your final warning.

He doesn't care, not anymore. Alfie let you go once, it will not happen again. He will make sure you are safe, whatever it takes.

[loulouwrites]

THE NIGHT WATCH . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie's eldest son is sick - he won't leave his bedside. warnings: illness, swearing, thoughts surrounding the death of a child, melancholy, unedited, angst, violence, discussions regarding the death of a child word count: 1.5k a/n: a lil drabble form the home series! i'm honoured by the love people have for this family. i know i'm not the most active on here but i just wanna say if anybody wants to talk to me (about anything) don't hesitate to hit me up! (i am still putting my taglist together but I completely forgot about it when I wrote this - forgive me pls)

It had been going around for a while now.

Some illness spreading around London that had children dropping left, right and centre.

Some children barely got a sore throat, and those that did were usually better after a few days, but he had heard the stories of the unlucky few, the children that had been bed bound for weeks before silently passing in their sleep.

He hadn't thought much of it at first - he found stories about other people's children mind numbingly boring - even the saddest accounts he had heard had barely registered in his mind.

When Benjamin had started coughing one morning, he had rolled his eyes, insisting he wouldn't get out of school that easily. His wife - who was gentler and kinder than he could ever be - had laid her hands on her son's cheeks, instructing him to go back to bed with a kiss on his forehead.

It had caused quite a tiff between the couple.

"You're too fuckin' soft," Alfie had told her, pointing an accusatory finger in her face.

"And you're too fucking hard on him," she had spat back, smacking his hand away.

She had been right, of course.

When Alfie returned home that night, the house was eerily quiet. No children greeted him at the door, even Bubbe the dog had barely looked up from her bed by the fireplace.

He had found them in the master bedroom, his wife had pulled up a chair next to the bed, and was dabbing a damp cloth on his son's forehead.

He would never forget the way Benjamin looked lying on the bed, his face pale and his hair sticking to his forehead, the wheezing breaths he took being the only sound in the room.

"I sent the children to my mum's," his wife had said, sitting with her back to him, her eyes completely focused on her little boy lying in the bed. "The doctor said it's highly contagious so they shouldn't be around him - or us."

He could tell she had been crying, her voice quiet and shaky.

Alfie didn't say anything in response, because what could he say? He stepped further in the room, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, his eyes trained on Benjamin's limp body.

"He's fucking boiling, Alfie," she choked out a sob, "he's so hot but he won't stop fucking shivering, I don't know what to do."

Alfie watched as his wife's body shook with sobs, putting her head in her hands as he sat on the bed, silent, confused, and so very scared.

"He'll be alright," his voice held no conviction, almost as shaky as her's was. "He's a tough lad-"

"No, he isn't," she cried, lifting her head from her hands to look at her husband. "He isn't. He's sweet and gentle, he isn't tough."

"Love," Alfie shook his head, leaning forward slightly, but she cut him off.

"It doesn't matter anyways, it doesn't matter how tough he is - or isn't - kids have died, Alfie, they've died from this."

She stood from her seat, pacing the room as he looked on helplessly. He had seen her scared before, he had seen her sad and everything in between, but nothing compared to how she looked now. Her hair was a mess, her makeup had smudged, and there was already dark circles beginning to form underneath her damp eyes.

"Listen," Alfie rose from the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. "He's going to be fine."

"You don't know that," she whispered, hanging her head.

"And you don't know he won't be," he bowed his head to meet her eyes, "but we're going to do everything we can do to help him, yeah?"

"Yeah," she sighed.

That had been hours ago.

It was almost three in the morning as Alfie sat on the chair beside the bed, a dimp lamp casting a soft glow on his son's pale face. His wife had fallen asleep on the bed next to Benjamin, and the room was silent apart from the occasional raspy breath from his son.

This was all he could do.

All he could do to help his son was to sit by his bedside and watch him breathe, watch for any sign that Benjamin was struggling, and to press the damp cloth to his face whenever a shiver broke out of his body.

He had never felt more useless in his life.

If it were any other situation, they would know what to do. If Benjamin had cut his knee when he was playing, his mother would be able to patch him up and make him feel better, if he had gotten into trouble at school, Alfie could pay the teacher's a visit to make sure it never happened again.

But this was completely in the hands of God.

Alfie wasn't a particularly religious man - not in the common sense of the word, at least. He was proud of his identity, he enjoyed the community and sense of belonging it gave him, but he fell short when it came to the believing part of his religion.

He had always thought God was something people used as a comfort in their darkest times, or as an excuse for things not working out the way they had wanted it to, it was never particularly real to him. Yet, as he sat at his son's bedside, with nothing to offer him but a damp cloth, he found himself bowing his head, and silently praying to God that Benjamin would be okay.

He hoped this would be the first time God listened to him.

The doctor had arrived early the next morning, prodding and poking the sick child and humming to himself.

Alfie stood by the doorway with his wife, both of them shuffling slightly on the feet as they waited for the doctor to finish his assessment, their patience wearing thinner with every passing second.

The doctor sighed when he turned to face the parents, a frown on his old and battered face, his beard moving as he scrunched his mouth.

"I see no improvements," he had spoke, and Alfie had to grasp his wife by her waist when he body began to collapse, another sob racking her body.

"What does that mean?" Alfie asked, his hands still secure around his crying wife.

"It means that you should prepare for the worst."

"No, no, no, no," she whispered, her legs giving way for the second time.

"If he recovers it will be a miracle, I've seen stronger boys succumb to this illness."

Maybe it was the doctor's tone of indifference when he spoke, maybe it was the feeling of his wife's body shaking uncontrollably in his arms, maybe he was just looking for somebody to take his frustration out on, whatever possessed Alfie in that moment to let go of his wife and grab the doctor by the collar, slamming his body into the wall, was as fierce and raw as the fear gripping his heart.

"Now you listen here," Alfie growled, his face inches away from the doctor's. "My son will not die. You know how I know that?" the doctor shook his head, his face reddening in fear. "I know that because you are going to fix him. If you don't, it'll be your body they wheel out of here."

The doctor's eyes widened, and Alfie was sure he was about to start crying. "Mr Solomons, there's nothing I can do, I would if I could-"

"You will," Alfie roared, pulling the doctor back slightly only to slam him back into the wall harder. "You will find a way."

Just as Alfie pulled his arm back, his hand curled into a fist, his wife's voice called out to him.

"This won't help Benjamin, Alfie. Just stop it."

Alfie released the doctor, who gasped for breath, his face pale. He turned to his wife, his face softening. "He can't die."

She walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "He won't die," she muttered into his chest, "you won't let him."

It was nearing nine o'clock at night when Benjamin started to stir in the bed. His mother had yet again, fallen asleep at his side, and Alfie was sat in the uncomfortable chair by the bed.

"Dad?" He whispered, his voice weak.

"I'm here, mate," Alfie said, his voice catching in his throat. "I'm here."

"I don't feel well."

"You're not well, mate," Alfie leaned forward, placing his palm on Benjamin's forehead, which was already beginning to cool.

"I told you I wasn't just trying to get out of school," Benjamin choked out, and Alfie let out a hearty laugh, startling his wife awake.

"Oh, thank God," she breathed, sitting up and cupping Benjamin's face in her hands. "Thank God."

"You might catch it, mum," Benjamin groaned when his mother bent down to pepper kisses on his face.

"Still sharp as ever, I see," Alfie muttered, the tension in his body seemingly disappearing.

"We need to ring the doctor," his wife said, and Alfie shot her an unimpressed look in response. "A different doctor," she conceded. "Though him being awake means the worst is over."

"What did I tell ya?" Alfie grinned. "Tough as nails, this one."

[followsfrankiep]

Tom Hardy Imagines

ONE SHOTS:

Home Alone (Christmas Special) 🎄

Your prized actor boyfriend, Tom Hardy, can't make it home in time for Christmas.

Again? (Drabble)

You try to break up with your actor boyfriend because of his busy schedule.

Candied Prayers (Johnny Davis x Reader) smut

Summary: Johnny Davis is struggling to make amends with the complications of his marriage. While abiding his wife's wishes, finds himself drawn to you, his kids' Catholic pre school teacher.

Tomorrow Night, Same Time (John Fitzgerald x Reader) smut, angst

Summary: John Fitzgerald believed everything came with a price. He was a practical man with money to spend, and you were unfortunate enough to be needing his help.

SERIES:

Haunted (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

TW: Smut, Explicit Language, Age gap, crimes.

Summary: Isobel Russo, known to most as Izzy, mastered the art of using her beauty and charm to exploit wealthy men. She managed to captivate Michael Gray, seeing him as the key to the ultimate heist to Shelby Company Limited in Birmingham. Immersed in a world of wealth, gang wars, and crime, her carefully laid plans unraveled when Alfie Solomons uncovered her true intentions. Striking a deal with her, she found herself sinking deeper into his world where the fine line between feelings and loyalties are blurred.

Chapter 2 - Small Heath

Chapter 3 - Camden

Chapter 4 - A Long Night (smut)

Chapter 5 - Loose Grip (smut)

Chapter 6 - Dealer's Play

Chapter 7 - Submission

Chapter 8 - Gods & Debts (smut)

Don't Worry About Her (Eddie Brock x Reader)

Summary: They always say, when a guy tells you not to worry about his girl best friend, you probably should. Izzy's wild and free-spirited nature has always contrasted with her best friend Eddie's quest for stability. Now that Eddie is engaged, he never expected Izzy to complicate things for both of them.

Part 1 - Under the table (smut)

Part 2 - Her Emergency Contact (smut)

Part 3 - Thankful Puppy Dog (smut)

Part 4 - Expiration Date (smut)

[acewritesfics]

Drabble 07 | Alfie Solomons

Request: from @/tea-atfive

Word Count: 128

Warnings: None

Alfie Solomons Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"Hey, I'm not your pillow," Alfie groans as Y/N rests her head on his chest. There was no real annoyance in his voice. It sounded more teasing than anything.  

"You're my husband," Y/N smiles and she snuggles into him. "You being my pillow is included in that."  

"Is that right?" he says as he starts running his fingers through her hair.  

"Yes it is," she kisses his chest. "It became that way as soon as we signed the marriage certificate. 

"I don't remember 'being wife's pillow' being on the certificate or in the vows," he smiles. 

"It's a silent agreement," she tells him. 

"One I wasn't there for," he says. 

"You are now," she lifts her head to look at him, a large, cheeky smile on her face. 

[rei-is-still-here]

My Emerald

Summary: Alfie Solomons, a potion-maker from Munchkinland, is tasked by the governor to brew a potion to ease his wife’s pregnancy. But when the child, Elphaba, is born with green skin, chaos erupts. Branded a curse, she is abandoned by her father—yet Alfie cannot leave her behind. He raises her as his own, his Emerald, until the day comes when he must let her go to face the world that once cast her aside.

A/n: Hey guys, I decided to write something for two of my favs. It’s not proofread so I’m very sorry…

Wicked x Peaky Blinders oneshot

Alfie Solomons, the grumpy potion-maker in Munchkinland. Alfie Solomons lived just beyond the fog line of Lower Glint, where the swampy tendrils of Munchkinland clawed upward into brambles of silver-leaf thorns and twisting violet trees. His hut, crooked and perpetually smelling of burnt herbs and old bark. The old potion maker preferred it there— far from the cobbled streets and lantern-lit courtyards where the villagers often whispered. He liked his solitude. He liked his shadows.

Alfie had animal workers, an owl, a bear, a badger, and a dozen others. They were the only ones he trusted to help with his apparatuses and protect his ingredients. But no owl, bear, or bird ever escaped the wrath of his constant nagging and gravel-throated grumbling.

The bell over Alfie’s crooked little door chimed like it always did—too loud, too cheery for his taste. Munchkinland’s spring air wafted in with the scent of honeysuckle and self-righteousness.

“Potion for childbirth,” the governor, Thropp, demanded.

Alfie looked up from his mortar, one brow raised. “Right. And good mornin’ to you too, yeah?”

“You’re a maker of results,” Thropp said. “My wife suffers. We expect a child soon.”

Alfie grunted. He knew Melena Thropp — young, freckled, dark-eyed beauty always looking away when people spoke too directly. A girl who didn’t smile with her eyes. She wasn’t built for pain, nor for Munchkinland’s political heirs.

Still, he brewed. With reluctance and muttered curses and a bottle of yellowroot wine to numb the idiocy of it all, he conjured a draught of thistlemilk, lavender sprigs, and six drops of nightbark to dull the body’s screaming without muting the soul’s tether. It was not meant for miracles. Just mercy.

But when Elphaba Thropp was born, wailing and slick and undeniably green, Alfie’s potion became the first to be blamed.

Alfie had seen strange things in his time. He’d spoken with river spirits and kissed a woman who had no shadow. Once, he’d watched a tree bleed.

But never — not once — had he seen a child quite like her.

She was born screaming, her skin was the color of forest just after rain — a deep, shimmering green, not sickly or pale, but rich, as if her soul had drunk too deeply from the earth’s roots before slipping into flesh.

He was startled, yes. He was no saint.

But as he looked down at her, her tiny fingers curling like vine tendrils, her moss-colored eyelids flickering open to reveal eyes darker than winter moss, he whispered, half to himself,

“…Beautiful.”

“She’s cursed,” Thropp hissed. “Look at her skin! You've cursed her Solomons!”

The animal nurses recoiled, fur bristling, ears flattened. One almost dropped the child and Alfie’s eyes went wide.

“She’s just a child!” he snapped, rushing forward before the green babe could hit the hard stone. “There’s no poison in that brew! No hex! This isn’t my doing!”

Thropp stepped back as if Alfie had caught fire. “You made her like this.”

“Nonsense! Her color— it’s just skin. Do you think skin decides a child’s worth?”

“She’s unnatural.”

“She’s alive.”

But Thropp would not hear it. The child was swept away to wet nurses and locked doors, and Alfie — angry, insulted, and wrongly accused — stayed behind in the afterbirth silence, the faint echo of the child’s wailing still ringing in his ears.

—

Alfie built a cot from spellwood and lined it with raven-feather wool. She slept soundly in his cluttered hut, among the jars and bones and slow-bubbling cauldrons. And when she cried — which wasn’t often and he sang potion ingredients in lullaby tones until she cooed and curled against his shoulder. He cradled her with the rough hands of a man who’d never held anything so small and murmured,

“You’ll be safe, My emerald.”

Elphaba grew like moss in moonlight in his small home— quiet, strange, and sharp-eyed. The other children feared her. But Alfie… he watched her. He never liked children. But he pitied her. And perhaps, in a secret place, he saw the seed of something more. He gave her books. He taught her about herbs. She would sit in his cluttered hut, legs crossed, asking questions no child would ask. “Why does pain exist?”, “Can a spell make someone love?”, “What does it feel like when someone dies?”

By the time she was ten, Elphaba was reading faster than Alfie could hide the books. She grew tall, her green hue deepened in the summers, softening in the frost. Her hair turned darker than obsidian, falling like liquid shadow across her shoulders.

She called him “Old Gruff.”

He called her “my Emerald.”

Their arguments could shake the rafters.

“Why can’t I go to the Emerald City and meet with the wizard?” she snapped once, stomping her bare foot on the creaky floor.

Alfie didn’t look up from his mortar. “Because the Wizard’s an empty robe and a fraud. Because he’d sooner put you in a cage than a tower. Because I said so.”

“You’re just afraid I’ll leave.”

At that, he slammed the pestle down with more force than needed. “I took you in when no one else would. I fed you. Taught you. And this is what I get? You want to run off and worship some charlatan in a shiny hat?”

Elphaba only smiled — that crooked smile she had when she knew she was winning.

She crossed the room, stood behind him, and wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders. “You’re right,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re an old, bitter man. And I love you.”

He scowled. Didn’t turn.

But when she walked away, he reached up, rubbed the spot she’d kissed as if checking whether it had burned, or healed.

—

Melena grew heavy again, her belly swollen like a ripening peach. And Thropp returned, his face sour with purpose.

“You’ll make another potion,” he demanded. “No more deformities. No more green.”

Alfie scowled. “You can’t brew color out of a soul.”

“Make something. Anything.”

So he lied — or half lied.

“There’s a root called milkflower. It’s known to soothe twisted lineage,” he said, twirling a brittle stem between ink-stained fingers. “But it’s volatile. One drop might help. A sip too much, and the child may never walk. Or worse.”

It was a rhetorical flourish. A warning.

But Thropp, desperate and deluded, took it as a solution.

He fed Melena the Milkflowers daily. Claimed it a divine remedy. Alfie protested at first but Thropp barred him from the estate. And Alfie, for all his cynicism, was not so cruel as to batter down a grieving man’s walls.

When Nessarose was born, she took a while to cry. Her legs were twisted like the roots of an ash tree. Melena bled far too long and unfortunately never woke up. And Thropp, wild-eyed with rage, pointed again to the potion maker.

Alfie said nothing.

He did not fight back.

He let them take his name and his honor and his silence.

Because guilt tastes like bitterroot and he had brewed that tea, hadn’t he? Even if he’d never meant it to be drunk.

It haunted him.

Melena’s pale face, silent and bloodless. Poor Nessarose’s tangled legs. The weight of mistakes that weren’t his, but somehow still belonged to him.

The village whispers grew teeth after that.

They called him the Hex Brewer behind his back. Said his potions twisted bones and cursed wombs. Munchkin mothers clutched their children closer when he passed, and even the bravest animal workers began to fidget beneath his glare.

But Alfie never left Lower Glint. Never packed up his brews or shut his crooked door. He stayed — stubborn and silent, as if by rooting himself deeper in the earth, he might bury the blame along with it.

Elphaba knew.

She knew what they said. She heard them in the market, muttering over plums and pickled beetroot. That’s the girl — the green one. His mistake. Her mother died because of him and because of her. At first, she asked, “Is it true?” And Alfie — brushing ash from his sleeves, turning away only muttered, “The truth’s too quiet to survive in towns like this.”

When she reached her teenage years, she stopped asking. But her silences grew longer. Her questions grew deeper.

She started sleeping beside the cot he’d made her — not because she feared the dark, but because she feared being feared. Alfie, snoring in his armchair, would wake to find her curled against the wall, her face half-lit by cauldron fire, her thoughts far too loud for someone so small.

He never told her to stop. He let her stay near. Let her watch his hands stir and grind, mix and pour.

And one night, she asked him quietly, “Can you make a potion to make me normal?”

The stirring spoon paused mid-spin.“Define normal,” he said without turning to look at her. Silence clung thick in the hut, he turned slowly. Elphaba was still staring at her hands, knuckles pale against her skin. “One to degreenify me?”

“You think I’d brew away my Emerald?”

Her lips trembled. “People look at me.”

“Let them.” His voice was gravel. “Let them blink and bow and bluster. You were born in the wrong land, girl, not the wrong skin.”

“But—”

“I’ve seen kings with hearts blacker than coal and children with smiles sharp enough to cut glass. I’ve met people with perfect faces and poison tongues. Normal is the most useless word in the world.”

She didn’t answer. Just curled closer to herself.

He exhaled through his nose. Reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a crumpled handkerchief that smelled vaguely of cinnamon and old parchment. He handed it to her without comment. She wiped her eyes. “You really wouldn’t make one? Just to see?”

He looked at her. With deep loving eyes.

“If I made a potion to change you, it’d be for your sake. Not for theirs. But even then, I’d rather burn it than watch you drink it and lose the one thing that makes you my emerald.”

She blinked. Then smiled, slow and crooked, the way she always did when he said something unexpectedly kind.

“You’re so dramatic,” she said, nudging his arm.

“You’re so green.”

“And you’re so old.”

He grunted. “You ask stupid questions, you get stupid answers.”

But when she leaned against him, small head resting on his shoulder, he didn’t move. He just let the cauldron boil over, forgotten.

—

The day came, like all such days do — inevitable and unwelcomed.

Elphaba and Nessarose were packed and primped, their bags laden with heavy tomes and gifted gowns. Shiz had extended a hand, and Thropp — forever eager to be rid of burdens and had pushed them toward it.

Alfie had watched in silence as the cart rolled in. Sleek. Ivory-wheeled. Gold crests stamped on the doors like polished lies.

“You don’t have to go,” Alfie had said, arms crossed, standing like a fortress in the garden path.

“I do,” Elphaba answered. “If I want to know more about this power I have, I have to discover”

He didn’t argue, just nodded.

He rode in silence with them to Shiz — squashed in a corner of the cart beside Nessa’s trunk, muttering at every bump and sighing every time someone tried to start polite conversation.

At the gates of Shiz, he stood quietly behind Elphaba and her father. Madam Morrible coiled down the steps like a queen spider in velvet.

“Ahh… The Thropps. And… oh, my.”

Alfie’s lip curled. “Morrible,” he said, like someone naming a fungus found in bread. Madam Morrible cleared her throat and directed her attention to shake Thropps hand. “It’s nice to see all of you here in Shiz, Please, do enter, take a look!”. Thropp, ever eager to be done with duty, wheeled Nessarose forward without looking back. Elphaba lingered. She turned toward Alfie, eyes questioning.

He gave her a small nod.

She stepped forward and was gone.

And once Elphaba was away, Madam Morrible cleared her throat again, “Still alive, I see.”

She smiled, “Solomons, You’ve aged… ungracefully.”

“I’d return the compliment, but I’m sure you get enough of those from the mirror.”

Morrible stepped closer, “Still meddling in lives you don’t understand?”

“Still profiting from ones you’ve ruined?”

Madam Morrible did not reply, “How long will you be staying?”

“Long enough to make sure she isn’t devoured.”

“Elphaba is in very capable hands.”

“That’s what worries me.”

The tension hung like thick mist — but Alfie only scratched his beard, exhaled hard through his nose, and entered the gates of Shiz and found Elphaba.

Shiz was a strange, glittering place. Polished marble, floating books, murmured enchantments drifting in the wind. Students in perfect uniforms walked past Elphaba, whispering. Staring.

She stared back harder.

Alfie caught up with her, hands shoved deep in his coat. He grunted,

“You packed the books I marked?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t let any of them charm you with nonsense,” he muttered.

“I won’t.”

“If any man calls you ugly or scary—hex his bed.”

She smirked. “Noted.”

He reached out and rested a heavy, calloused hand on her shoulder. “You write to me. Or I’ll come drag you back to the hut by your green ears.”

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “You always say that.”

“One day I’ll mean it.”

They stood there, just for a breath. A green girl in a sea of strangers. A bitter man who had once sworn never to care for anyone.

And then, just like the day she was born—wailing, slick, and unwanted—he turned.

He muttered curses to himself as he walked away, past Morrible, past the iron gates, past Shiz.

He looked back once.

Just once.

And saw her standing tall.

His Emerald.

[runnning-outof-time]

K’s Reading List — FEBRUARY

Hey there! Thanks for stumbling upon this reading list! I figured that as a way to support the lovely writers within this fandom that I’d compile a reading list of all of the stories I read over each month.

February was a wonderful month filled with incredible stories. Below is the list of stories that I read. I hope you will find some that you like as well!

As always, please make sure you heed to the warnings on each fic!!

@lis-likes-fics

Just a Drink - Tommy Shelby x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@copinghex

Last night’s kiss with John - John Shelby x Reader

@little-diable

Hot Blood - Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

Greedy - Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb — contains 🔞 NSFW themes!

@justrainandcoffee

Happy new y… - Alfie Solomons x OC

@noforkingclue

Consequences - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@lau219

It Can Wait - Tommy Shelby x Reader

@halsteadlover

Unspoken Feelings - Jay Halstead x Reader — contains 🔞 NSFW themes! — from the show Chicago PD

@reiwanwan

Words I Couldn’t Say - May Carleton x Reader - blurb + letter

@look-at-the-soul

Galentine’s - Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader blurb

@darklydeliciousdesires

John Shelby drabble - John Shelby x Reader

@wildrangers

so american - Anthony Boyle x Reader

[enretrogue]

𝗝𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦 (𝟮)

༝༚༝༚ = Black/POC Works ⎢ 24’ Fic Rec M.List

ONE CHICAGO:

Connor Rhodes

Mine — @halsteadlover

Dream Partners — @sjhhemmings

Comfortable — @kiddbegins

Babysitting 101 — @iamwhoami

Emergency Love — @callsign-dexter

Plan — @lcvesjj

Jay Halstead

Kiss It, Kiss It Better Baby — @halsteadlover

Haunted — ^

Night Struggles — ^

Our Little Family — ^

A New Milestone — ^

Under Fire — ^

Shadows From the Past — ^

“Ladies love a guys who’s good with kids” ⎢ Part 2  — @poppadom0912

Uncle and Niece (Platonic) — ^

Love on Ice — ^

30 Hours — @dandelionfairyyy

Halstead’s Favorite Duo — @ballarkeselection

Exciting — @fangirlfrom-hell

CPD Gala — @hereforhalstead

Home — @deanstead

The Way You Are — @loislane41319

PEAKY BLINDERS:

Alfie Solomons

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7 — @muneca-lemon-steppa

Request 24 — @fandom-puff

Living with Alfie Solomons — @heavencanbeaprisontoo

The Silent Treatment — @warnersister

Luca Changretta

Living with Luca HCs — @heavencanbeaprisontoo

Thomas Shelby

Me Time — @garrison-girl-08

Daddy’s Princess — ^

Tommy Convincing His Wife to Stop Being Angry — @wutheringcaterpillar

Of Bending and Breaking — @call-sign-shark

Mr. Forgettable — @mrkdvidal1989

Time After Time Chapter 14 — @all-mirth-no-matter

Wedding Day — @cillianthinker

When She Laughs, The Heavens Hum a Stun Gun Lullaby — @saintmuses

SONS OF ANARCHY:

Filip “Chibs” Telford

The Last to Know — @kdogreads

Imagine Being Chibs’ Old Lady ⎢ Part 2 — ^

Imagine Taking In the Teller Boys With Chibs — ^

Very Soon — ^

My Dove — ^

Ruin — @bullet-prooflove

No Words — ^

Teach Me How to Ride — @violentdelightsandviolentends

Pussyfooting — @indifferent-depravity

Happy Lowman

Violent Little Thing — @fanficimagery

Your Family Disapproving of Happy — @imagineredwood

Angst to Fluff Prompts — @ravennaortiz

Flash Fic Request — @withmyteeth

Cocoa Wars — @darqchilddaydreamz

Miss Me — @marvelous-slut

Just for Today — @obsessedasusual

Jackson “Jax” Teller

Relentless — @violentdelightsandviolentends

Heatwave — ^

Insomnia — @spaghettificationandpretzels

You Aren’t Meant to Be Back Until Christmas Eve — @rebelwrites

Only Mine — @thisreadswhatever

Fluff Prompt — @youvebeenlivingfictional

I’m Sorry — @pumpkin-writes

Rescued — @garbinge

Harry “Opie” Winston

Nowhere to Be — @drabbles-mc

Stolen Sweater — @i'm-just-a-mississippi-girl

Good Honest Work — @spaghettificationandpretzels

[kind-wolf]

Damn! Can't believe how tense I was until the end! 😰

Well done! 👏👏👏

The Meeting

🛑 WARNINGS: Language. 🛑

✧ requested by: @aimkatsz

✧ alfie solomons x reader // Alfie calls reader in for a meeting, for feelings to become surfaced.

✱ "Why are you looking at me like that...?"

✧ Solari Says: Hello, my love! Thank you so much for your patience, as holiday months keep me busy and I wanted a restart on the blog aesthetic. I hope you enjoy!

gif credit to the OP.

masterlist. // peaky blinders. // request here.

You weren't sure as to why Alfie had called you back to the bakery. The reasoning was beyond your understanding, as you had fulfilled your contract as per agreement. No twists, no cut corners, everything had been how it was supposed to be.

So approaching his office left a looming sense of confusion resting on your back, pushing past all the employees that littered the dimly lit corridors. You kept your head low, offering a small sigh of contempt as you approached a familiar, doe eyed young man with messy brown hair.

"Ollie," you greeted him, offering a nod.

He looked up at you with the same doe eyed expression that stayed on his face, returning the nod in your direction. "[Y/N]."

"Is Alfie present? He summoned me back here, but I know the business is ever-moving," you asked him, your eyes flitting towards the office door that Ollie had been stationed by.

Obviously if Ollie was in close proximity to the office, Alfie certainly had been inside. Better safe than sorry, though, as it were.

Ollie nodded in answer to your question, standing up straight so he could open the door for you. "Yes, actually. He just arrived for your meeting."

With that, Ollie turned the knob and opened the door.

You could see Alfie on the other side, hands clasped and eyes focused on the empty chair in front of him. It almost made a lump rise in your throat, the difference possibilities circling around in your head.

Ollie nodded to the inside, a gesture to tell you to get a move on. You took a second before obliging, and the sound of the door closing echoed in the back of your mind. You nervously twiddled your hands, as Alfie's eyes flickered towards the sound of the door closing. To you standing there, unsure what to think.

"Right, take a seat," Alfie instructed to you, his hands unraveling to gesture to the empty seat his eyes had been searing into since Ollie had opened the door.

You nervously dust yourself off and sit yourself down slowly. You had no idea why Alfie had been hardwired to make you feel this way. Maybe it was his unpredictability, his ability for improvisation. Or maybe it was because you seemed to have eyes for him since he contracted you-- but of course, you couldn't say much about that.

Unprofessional, it would be. At least, you would think so. It was always unclear about what the etiquette for a job in the underground is.

He folded his hands once more, the same stern look now searing into you rather than the back of the chair. It was silent for a minute, the intensity in the air palpable by most means. You could cut it with a knife, you were sure.

And then he spoke.

"Right, so," he began, finally dropping his hands to the top of the desk," your job was to find Sabini's right hand man and assassinate him."

"And I had done so," you respond to him quickly, earning a raised finger from him to silence you for a minute.

"I'm not finished," he stated, before continuing once the silence fell onto his ears. "You did so, but the way you handled it has Sabini and his crew chasing their fucking tails."

You remained quiet as you held his eye contact, his gaze unwavering as his face remained serious. The couple of seconds you took just observing him felt like forever, really, unsure of what he thought of you or your extra performance with Sabini's men.

Until his face cracked into a small smile.

When the smile happened, the entire atmosphere in the air changed. His gaze softened, replaced by something that clued him into being more amused than anything negative.

"Why are you looking at me like that...?" you ask him, almost feeling like you were dancing around the more upfront question of whether or not he found that more funny than anything else. Better safe than sorry, as it were. Not that you were afraid of Alfie-- far from it, really. It was more of a curiosity of how he conducted himself in private, compared to his more brutish act when he was with his workers.

"I'm just bloody amazed, is all," he admitted with the smile still stricken on his face. "I didn't think you were the type, is all. You amaze me every fucking time."

You could feel the color begin to flood to your cheeks at the compliment, usually not something Alfie went out of his way to do. You wondered how you became the subject of his fascinations, but... there could be a worse man curious of your methods.

Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad business transaction.

◈ peaky blinders list - @sazafraz :|: @angelaiswriting :|: @kind-wolf :|: @tsumethedrifter

if those you wish to be included in the tag list, feel free to leave a comment or DM. If you wish to be removed, please feel free to do the same.

[novashelby]

Evelyn Shelby(OC) x Alfie-AU EVIE Verse. Meaning no connection to the main fic or timeline. Just playing around with Evie and different characters. Enjoy! I'm trying to write Alfie more.

TW: Mention of bombs and sex

It was her second attempt at university. She was turning thirty that October. However, life had other plans. Germany had other plans. When she was a little girl, she always asked her daddy if there was ever going to be another war. Either Tommy lied to make her feel safe or he truly wanted to believe it himself.

"You know, I don't feel so comfortable with you going far from home, Evelyn-London-"

"Daddy, I'll be thirty this year. I'd like to go to London, alright?" She stopped speaking, noticing his tense nature. "I'm no safer here." He couldn't argue with her. His eight year old girl was in fact thirty. She was going to do what she wanted.

So, she went to London in late August and in September of 1940, everything changed. They were so loud. The bombs. Her and the rest of the ladies were forced to live, breathe, eat, and study in a shelter that was really just a makeshift basement where the university kept files. They were only allowed out during certain hours and had to be back before a certain time.

But Evelyn never followed a curfew. If Tommy Shelby couldn't make her, fuck Germany. Hitler wasn't going to make her follow no stupid curfew.

"Un-fucking-real," the gentleman said when she walked through his underground distillery and into his 'office'. It was less of an office, more of a closet. "Not even a fuckin' air raid gives me a fuckin' break from you fuckin' Shelbys-"

"Nice to see you, Mr. Solomons-"

"Shouldn't you be home?" he asked, fixing his specks. He was observing some type of trinket. Evelyn looked over the desk at it, humming. "What?"

"I was sick of living with fifteen other girls in a file room," she explained, looking around the place. "Thought I'd get some fresh air." She sniffed in the dust. "Though, I don't think your office is that fresh-no offense." She looked over at him. "It's dusty-"

Alfie put down the trinket, and leaned back, unamused expression. "It's a fuckin' closest." Evelyn sat on a pile of boxes, folding her legs. "Make yourself at home," he said, sarcastically, of course. "Just like your daddy-barge right in. You know modern people call before they visit? or they write?"

Evelyn chuckled. "Well, Mr. Solomons. You and my father also have something in common."

"Fuck off with that-"

"Both old, grouchy, miserable," she started, rising from the boxes and walking over, leaning on the flimsy desk. "Dusty, unmarried men. Would you not like some company? You've aged a lot since I've last seen you-"

"Are you going to try and fuck me again?" he asked before settling on, "you can sleep on the makeshift bed." Alfie wasn't going to make a young lady traverse through the dodgy London streets risking getting stuck in an air raid.

"And where will you sleep?" she asked.

"I won't-"

"But what if it gets cold and I'll need more warmth? Mr. Solomons, you are an awful host." He commented how they were, once again, in a closet. That it was a....bloody fuckin' stuffy in there...and he was...nearly sweating my arse off. "Then you should have no qualms about me undressing-"

"Bloody fuckin' 'ell...alright," he groaned. Evelyn was a strange woman, he thought. "Desk or cot?"

She hummed, looking at her watch. "It's early...surely we can make our rounds. I bet we'll even make it against the ceiling if we get our position right."

[wonderlanddreamer]

Edits, Drabbles & More.

Lydia Elizabeth Shelby

The Early Years -

OC Interview

Things that Lydia would love if she existed in 2025.

Lydia & Tommy

October 🎃 & December 🎄

Modern! Lydia & Finn

Lydia & Johnny Dogs: Headcanons

Lydia & Alfie Solomons

Rusty 🐾

Lydia does Disney

Wolf

GOT AU - Lydaerys Targaryen

Lydia & Evie [ft. Evie]

Lydia & Lucy [ft. Lucy]

Lydia & Eva [ft. Eva]

Lydia & Heaven [ft. Heaven]

The Later Years -

The Mature Era

A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More 'Touch Me'

Sunshine & Rainbows

Lydia Shelby x Bonnie Gold: One • Two • Three

Ringside

His Gypsy Girl

Bonnie × Lydia - Ship in 5 Minutes

Call Your Sister || Ada & Lydia

Gold for Gold

Shelby Sisters vs. Breakables

The Bride

The Devil Hides