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theyoungoneed · 1 year ago

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Title: Ch.1: First Impressions

Summary: The year is 1925. Main character Jacqueline Rose is part of an organized crime family in Chicago during the 1920s when a family rival Luca Changretta of the Sicilian Mafia over takes them. Desperate for help, Jacqueline travels to Birmingham where another crime family is experiencing the same thing, to try and join as well as make an alliance with the notorious Peaky Blinders. Meeting with the one and only Thomas Shelby, Jacqueline hopes to persuade him and his family he can trust her to take down their common enemy, but will he? Will the Shelby Family trust her?

Word Count: 2,483

Warnings: mentions killing

A/N: based off of season 4 of Peaky Blinders so spoilers if you have not seen season 4. Some events happened in the show and others I added my own. This is not the official chapter one title. I will be posting each chapter separate some in parts until I am done with the entire fan fic which will consist of 6 chapters total. Once done I will make a big post and link the official chapters in the post. Hope you guys enjoy I've been working on this entire fan fic for six years now lol. Anyway, hope you guys like the first chapter<3

I step out of the automobile and close the door behind me. Standing outside in the foggy streets of Birmingham in the neighborhood of Small Heath, winter of 1925 with my rose print coat and my mini black purse clenched tightly by my side. The cold breeze brushed through my hair as I walked down the lane. Watery Lane, they called it. I inhale sharply. This is what I have to do to save myself. My fear would be hard to conquer, but I had to do it if I wanted to survive.

My name is Jacqueline Rose. I am 23 years old and I am the daughter of once the most notorious gangster in the Midwest, Clifton Rose. My family was the biggest ruling gang in Chicago called The Blood Red Roses. Everyone feared us. Even Al Capone knew not to mess with us. I was born in downtown Chicago. I lived there my whole life. I am the youngest of two brothers. My other older brother, Alex, is still alive and is now the leader of our gang. My oldest brother Charles was killed in a shootout along with my father on the same day by our enemy, Luca Changretta. Leader of an Italian gang and part of the Sicilian Mafia in New York. They were good friends with my family until one day things changed and they turned their back on us. We have allies but once they found out he took us over, they all refused to offer aid because Luca threatened them not to help us. No one can beat their numbers, there are a ton of them.

For a year now there have been bloodbaths between our two families. More like a vendetta, you may call it. Most of the people working for us are not family but close friends. The majority of my gang escaped or were killed. Luca Changretta wants to erase my family's name from the face of the earth, but I won't let him. I was an assassin for my family’s gang and I was good at it. So what am I doing here in Birmingham England? To join a new gang, a notorious gang, to form a new alliance, and to have protection. They call themselves the Peaky Blinders.

I stand in front of the headquarters located on Watery Lane and stare at the two doors which read, SHELBY COMPANY LIMITED. The Shelby family runs it, and Thomas Shelby is their head. I’ve heard about the man and how handsome he is, kind, but also very manipulative. The Shelbys also hate Luca Changretta and his gang, so there’s one thing we have in common, which might help me get this job.

I walk towards the entrance to the building’s headquarters, almost being toppled over by pedestrians. As soon as I walked in, dozens of men with nice suits white collared shirts, gray vests, and peaked caps, were rushing past me. The paper was flying, the phones were ringing, and this was one busy place. I walk to the front desk, to see a woman with black bobbed hair and green eyes.

“Hello, can I help you?” she asks looking up at me.

“ I have an appointment with Mr. Thomas Shelby.”

“Hold on one moment please,” she tells me and picks up the phone. After a few seconds, she hangs up the phone and gestures to me to follow her.

“This way,” she says. Upstairs was more calm and less noisy. The woman told me to wait in the hall for a moment before she would call me into Mr. Shelby’s office. A few minutes pass and the woman comes back.

”Ma’am? Mr. Shelby is ready for you,” she says, taking me to a set of two tall brown doors that read Shelby Company Ltd. As the woman opened the doors, I took a deep breath, walked in, and saw a tall figure standing in front of the sunlit window with a straight posture holding a drink in his hand. The room smelled like cigarettes, whiskey, and cologne. There was so much space between me and his desk. He turns around and I am stunned by his facial features. His jawline was sharp as a knife, he looked to be in his early to mid-thirties and had the most beautiful ice-blue eyes. Not a wrinkle in sight on his gray vest or the sleeves of his white collared shirt underneath. Half of a golden chain hung out of his pocket, the rest tucked in his vest.

“Jacqueline Rose.”

“Thomas Shelby,” he says, extending out his hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby,” I say, walking up to shake his hand. He clears his throat.

“Please sit,” he gestures and I take a seat in a wooden round armchair, crossing my legs with my purse on my lap to appear a bit more charming. His long polished wooden desk had stacks of paperwork, a bottle of whiskey, a crystal ashtray, a telephone, a bowl-shaped lamp, and some letters. Behind him was a spinning globe and a big brown bookshelf filled with books, family pictures, and on the wall hung paintings of horses.

“Would you like some?” he asks, pointing to the bottle of whiskey in front of him.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” I reply. It would be rude to reject a drink since I am coming to his aid.

“My secretary recalls you are from America, yeah?” He pours me a glass and hands the drink to me.

“Yes. Chicago to be exact.” I take the drink in my sweaty hands, take a sip, and rest the glass on my lap.

“So, Ms. Rose,” he says, leaning back in his leather chair and lighting a cigarette. “What brings you here to Birmingham?” he asks, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I’m here because I want to work for you.” He blinks at me with no expression on his face and leans forward on his desk.

“My apologies, but I’m afraid all the women vacancies have been filled,” he says.

“Oh I won’t be working in the women's positions, I'll be working with the men,” I tell him, giving a half-smile. He stares at me unfazed and takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Are you a whore?” he asks bluntly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you a whore?” he asks again nonchalantly. I clench my jaw slightly.

“No, I’m not a whore, Mr. Shelby,” I implied.

“If you’re not a whore then you’ve come to the wrong place then,” he says, exhaling a swirl of smoke. ‘Or you could be a barmaid,” he suggests.

“I’m not here to be a whore or a barmaid Mr. Shelby. I already told you what I came here for.” I was losing my patience.

“With all due respect Ms. Rose I don't think…I don’t think you are suited for it,” he says plainly. I stare at him, fixing my eyes on him.

“Do you know who I am, Mr. Shelby?”

“Only your name and that’s about it,” he replies, taking a smoke of his cigarette. I stare at him with a fierce look in my eyes and smirk.

“ I guess you can say I am part of an organized crime gang called The Blood Red Roses. As you can see by my coat,” I say, implying my black coat full of roses grinning proudly. He quickly takes back a smile as I continue. “We work with the mafia, we kill anyone who comes in our way, those who betray us, and we are known for showing no mercy. You must’ve heard about us, I’m sure.” He nods slowly.

“You know, I believe I might've heard of your organization.”

“I know you have. We’re hard to miss,” I tell him, smirking.

“I see, and what role did you play in your family's business?” he asks, taking a drag of his cigarette. I stare at him with hostile eyes leaning closer.

“ I was the assassin.” He swallows but tries to act unconcerned. He plays with his cigarette on the ashtray without looking at me due to fear but is forced to because of the information I told him.

“Why do you want to work for The Peaky Blinders?” he asks curiously.

“I want to work for The Peaky Blinders because I need help. My family is ruined and I need your family’s protection,” I tell him.

“Why us? I’m sure you have lots of allies willing to help you back in Chicago, no?” I shake my head.

“No. We don’t.”

“What happened to them?”

“They were all threatened by our common enemy. Luca Changretta.” His face becomes pale as if the blood was drained out of him from mentioning that name.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. I unclasp my purse and take out a white card with a black hand printed on it.

“I’m assuming he gave you this?” I ask, sliding him the card.

“They got you too eh?” he scoffs looking down at the card.

“For a year now,” I tell him.

“Fuck,” he says leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. I grabbed the card and put it back in my purse, I took a look around the room. The pictures of the family were hard not to miss.

“I can see you’re a family man. You value family and you’d do anything to protect them.”

“It’s true, you’re not wrong,” he says, sighing. “ I grew this business for my family. Started you as a regular working-class family but then we moved up in the world, so yes, I agree. I would say I consider myself a family man,” he says, taking a sip of whiskey.

“If you agree then you should be open to the idea. The idea of me working for you, because Mr. Shelby I too value family and would do anything to protect mine. Even if it means doing sacrifices of the unthinkable. I assume you have made sacrifices for your family before.” He says nothing but looks at the pen he is fiddling with on his desk. “Help protect a family member as if it was your own. I am counting on you and your family Mr. Shelby. Let me prove it to you I can be of good help-”

“I don’t know! I don’t fuckin know, alright?” he yells getting up and walking to the window in frustration.

“I don't even know you,” he says, turning around.

“Then get to,” I tell him. He scoffs smoking his cigarette, fixing his attention back out the window.

“How can we trust you?” How do we not know you’re some spy of Luca’s?”

“Our fathers worked together for years,” I told him.

“Oh did they,” he says unimpressed.

“Yes, they did. They kept it a secret, which is why it makes me believe that if they did, and you let me work for you, then I am in partnership with a very decent family.” He slowly looks at me, switching his eyes to the floor before drawing his cigarette. He stands there gazing out the window, thinking.

“You need me.”

“No, I don’t think we do,” he says, clenching his jaw ever so slightly as if he changed his mind last minute.

“You don’t think you guys need me? How many of Luca’s men have you killed?” I ask him with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t respond and instead looks at his feet.

“Mhm, exactly what I suspected. Zero.” He looks at me and rolls his eyes.

“ I killed four of his men. By myself, while my gang was under attack. Four versus zero here Mr. Shelby, you know who’s winning in this vendetta right now. My organization consists of five hundred and more members stationed all across the globe. How many are there of you? Twenty, thirty perhaps, and you guys couldn’t even kill one?” He doesn’t respond to my question and looks annoyed as he looks out the window.“Also Mr. Shelby I must add, it was so easy getting through the front door of this place, anyone could walk right in here,” I point out. “If I were you, I would invest some time for better security.” He scoffs at me and looks away, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Although, think about this. Hear me out. Together we can defeat this son of a bitch. I know you want to defeat him as much as I do and be free of this burden,” I explained to him. This caught his attention slightly. Judging from the facial expressions, he doesn’t know what to do, to be honest. He doesn't know if he should say yes to me or no. I get up from my chair and stand in front of his desk. “Listen, Mr. Shelby, I am good at my job. I have killed many people. About half of those people were Luca’s.” I trace the outside rim of my glass. “You see, I’ve heard of the notorious Peaky Blinders of Birmingham and knew they’d be good. I know I can trust your family, knowing that I would get the same trust back, and this is why I came here,” I explain. There was a moment of silence before he gave me a response. I couldn’t tell if his face read terror or craziness from what I said. He probably never heard of a woman killing as many people before. He stepped back from the window, took one last drag of his cigarette before pressing it on the tray, and put his hands in his pockets

“If we hire you, what will we get in return?”

“An alliance with The Blood Red Roses. A partnership of course. We’ll provide you with anything you need. I heard you guys are into the liquor business, no? You already have relations in Boston, think of what Chicago can bring you. I’ll make sure to bootleg your product over here,” I say. He nods slightly leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.

“Please. I’ll prove it to you.” I plead.

“Alright,” he tells me. “You’re hired.” A sigh of relief goes through my whole body.

“Thank you, Mr. Shelby.”

“I may have hired you, but I still need to get my family’s approval. Meet me at this address tomorrow night at seven o’clock, wear something nice, but not too fancy, and don’t be late,” he says handing me a piece of paper.

“I won’t,” I tell him. He leads me to the door and opens it for me.

“It was nice to meet you, Ms. Rose and welcome to Birmingham,” he says.

“Thank you and I look forward to working with you Mr. Shelby,” I say, shaking his hand.

“Til tomorrow then,” he says.

“Til tomorrow,” I confirm with a smile on my face, walking away with my heels clicking behind me. Victory never felt so good.

To be continued of this chapter...

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #1920s #historical fiction #season 4 #circa 1925 #birmingham #waterylane #smallheath #peaky blinders season 4 #peaky blinders fan fiction

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murderousginger · 2 years ago

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Lovely things

Tommy Shelby childhood

OC Marjorie

Warnings: Implied child abuse, both physical and sexual. Violence. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 2225

1903

It's not that the Shelby children were any worse than the others their age. No, they were all the same level of rambunctious and just as likely to question authority as any. The issue, most adults found, was that they stuck together. If one Shelby was in trouble, they all were, regardless of the circumstance. They all seemingly formed a pact before birth that if one would raise hell, they all would. And usually the perpetrator of said hell was none other than Tommy Shelby.

At 13, it was obvious that Tommy was the ringleader.

His older brother Arthur, freshly 16, was too meek for leadership. He often chose to draw under shade trees rather than think up some scheme for the gaggle of children. He had his father's temper when set off, but the only real way to light that fuse was to hurt his siblings. The moment a threat was uttered for mischievous Ada or his rascal brother John, Arthur transformed from a quiet, gangly boy to a fighter in the ring out for glory and gore.

John, age 8, was a good student when teachers could get him to focus. Mrs. Changretta was his favorite, offering him hard candies when he would tell her about the newest adventure book he read. John was a whizz with numbers, too. His father liked to take him to the cock fights to gather money for bets, teaching him how to put odds in their favor with close-but-not-quite-correct math.

Ada, age 6, was already vocal about what she thought was right and wrong. If any injustice in her eyes was done, she was the first to call it out regardless if it was by another child or an adult. She had no qualms putting anyone in their place. She was tiny and fearless after growing up with three older troublesome brothers.

At 13, Tommy already seen enough of the adults around him to not think much of most of them. They were equals at best, not worth the clothes on their backs most of the time. He adored his mother and Aunt Polly, both strong women that were loving but firm.

Aunt Polly had just birthed Michael, her second child, at the age of 19. Tommy regularly had problems trying to decipher if Polly was like an older sister or a second mother to him; the feelings changed as often as her temperament did for her niece and nephews. He couldn't blame her, he knew both his mother and Polly had their hands full thanks to their alcoholic, useless husbands.

As much as his relationships with his mother and Aunt shaped his opinions of women, his father and uncle shaped his thoughts on men. Both were abusive alcoholics that were either missing or terrorizing their families, effectively leaving the women to raise their children alone, only to return to take their wives' paychecks and leave again for whores and alcohol.

No, Tommy Shelby had no use for his father.

But he hated to see his mother cry.

So every once in a while, after finding his mother crying for his father one too many nights, you could find Tommy begrudgingly on the streets of Small Heath looking through every alley and dark place to drag his father back home in hopes to soothe his mother's broken heart.

His father would sober for a few days and things would calm for a moment, the eye of a storm before Arthur Sr. would get The Itch and blow up on his family, stealing his wife's money and disappearing into the seedy parts of Small Heath for another bender.

Tommy knew the pattern. He often slinked through their home, sulking and walking on eggshells until his father inevitably followed through and disappeared again in a fit of rage. If they were lucky, he left without anyone being bruised or beaten. More often than not, Arthur Jr. would stand between his father and the others, a passive punching bag until their father's rage dissipated and he stormed out. Their mother, often hoarse from screaming, would gather her eldest boy and sob as she soothed his wounds. But she would still grieve for the man their father could be while he was away.

Tommy was in the alleys of Small Heath again, looking at every drunk laying in a puddle of their own filth and in every pub that would allow such a man to post in a corner for days at a time. Those pubs were becoming fewer as time went on and Arthur Sr.'s debts racked up. The dark corners he could be found in were more dangerous every night.

Arthur had caught on to what his younger brother was doing over the years. He started to have a habit of checking for his brother before going to bed himself. Tommy had less time to find their useless father before Arthur would drag him back home empty handed.

Much to Tommy's annoyance, his brother was becoming increasingly skilled at finding him with every trip.

Tommy snuck out of their home, quietly slipping out the door during a loud scuffle between John and Ada over if they should have the same bed time.

"I'm older, I should stay up later!" John bellowed.

"Well I'm smarter so age doesn't count!" Ada yelled back.

Once on the streets, Tommy did his best to walk softly and quickly, going straight to the docks and canal streets to start his search near the seedy stretch that was often used for prostitution.

He stayed in the dark off the dim lit paths as he squinted at the faces of the men jeering at the women near the water, their faces frozen in fake warmth as they cooed their prices at the men. He did his best to stay out of sight on the opposite side of the canal.

"What are you doing here, sweetie?" One called to Tommy. "Your father bring you here to make you a man?"

Tommy hastened his steps and moved further down the canal until he saw someone sitting along the bank alone and crying.

She sat under the only street light that worked in the area, her feet dangling in the dirty water as she hid her face in her hands. Her tall willowy frame was definitely a child's, no older than Tommy was himself. He stopped abruptly, his last step causing a thud that caused the girl to look up at him from across the water.

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83 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

They lie together

Tommy Shelby x Lizzie Stark

Word count: 1,505

Warnings: They're criminals, guys, they do bad things.

Tommy liked walking home from The Garrison sometimes. The cool air of a quiet evening helped clear his head. It also delayed the inevitable digging sounds from the walls and the disembodied breathing of the love of his life as he fought his memories to sleep.

Living in Arrow House made walking home near impossible, so instead he would park at the office and walk the blocks to the pub. Tommy liked walking along Small Heath, among the people he grew up with and now employed. It grounded him, a reminder of where he could be if his ambition did not urge him forward.

It also kept him fresh in the minds of the people he wanted to know him. They would not forget him or see him as unapproachable when he decided to stretch his legs into the political ring. They would see him as one of them; a man who changed his stars and wanted to help the people he grew up with. A man who still cared for the working class. That sort of image won races.

A night at the Garrison gave Tommy a chance to see how his brothers were and bettered morale for all the Blinders. The young ones saw their generals in the fields; his brothers felt like they were still heard. Still equal.

Everything was a means to an end. A scheme. Tommy never did anything that didn't have multiple purposes anymore. Every step was part of a plan since Grace had passed. His heart froze when hers had a bullet rip through it that was meant for him. He only allowed his heart to thaw around Charlie, the last piece of Grace he had to cling to. He loved his son more than himself.

The only other comfort he gave himself was his moments with Lizzie. He couldn't find any other reason for his meetings with her other than pleasure. In a way it drove him mad. Guilt seeped into the edges of his mind that he would find pleasure in anything. Even so, he would still find himself at her door late nights looking for comfort. She was familiar. She was safe.

The walk to the office from the Garrison was warm, with spring threatening to break the winter chill indefinitely. Tommy let his mind wander as his steps echoed into the night and he looked at the world around him. He stopped at his vehicle to light a cigarette, only to notice a faint light illuminating a window of the business.

The cherry of his cigarette burned bright as his brows dropped, gears turning in his mind as to who might be working this late. Polly had gone home hours ago. His brothers were still at the pub. No one had any reason to be burning midnight oil.

Tommy took a long drag before tossing the half used cigarette to his feet to stamp it out. He took to the steps of the building lightly, movements quick and quiet as he made his way into the building and up the stairs. Tommy knew every creaky board and squeaky hinge; he moved in the shadows around and past anything that could give him away. As he made it closer to his office, he heard the clack of a typewriter, unsteady in rhythm as if it's author kept pausing to find the words.

He stood in the dark doorway, watching Lizzie typing at her desk close to a small candle. She must have brought it with her so she did not turn the light on. The soft warm light put shadows along her knitted brow as she cursed under her breath and flexed her hands away from the keys. Her teeth worried her lip as she let out a soft sigh and flew back to the keys to write again.

"Lizzie," Tommy said softly, voice smooth and even as his jaw set. "Why are you here at this hour? I don't remember giving you any important business to do."

Lizzie jumped before going very still, like a deer caught in a light.

"Tommy, why aren't you home?" She said nervously. "No one comes in this late on a Saturday."

"So you've done this before, then?" Tommy said as he lit a new cigarette and exhaled slowly as he eyed her from the doorway.

He stepped forward. Lizzie fell into shadow with every thudding step.

"What? No, I just meant–"

"What you mean is that you never meant to be caught," Tommy said coldly as he towered over her. "So what is it, Lizzie? What are you typing up on Shelby Limited paper? What secrets are you selling to my rivals?"

"Tommy, no, I–"

Tommy grabbed her jaw and squeezed until she stopped. The cigarette quivered in the side of his mouth as he spoke.

"I've got to say, Lizzie, whoever turned you into the black cat was smart," he said as he took his cigarette out of his mouth. "You've been loyal for so long, I wouldn't think it would be you."

Lizzie's eyes widened as he played with the cigarette between his fingers as he blew smoke directly into her widened eyes.

"Tommy I wouldn't–"

"Who is it, Lizzie?" He rumbled, his voice getting gruffer as he grew impatient. "I can just as easily burn you as you've burnt me."

Lizzie grabbed his wrist as she tried to pull away.

"Thomas Shelby if you burn me without reading the paper so help me God I will shoot you myself," Lizzie smacked the cigarette out of his hand.

He let her go and grabbed the paper, squinting in the low light to read.

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87 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

All of this is Temporary

Angel on Fire chapter 8

Word count: 2850

Warnings: Oral sex. Mentions of sex. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Note: I THINK I caught everything, but if I didn't... part of this was written with only three hours of sleep. Go easy on me. 😅

You woke up all at once as the sun hit your face. Your head pounded as your palms rubbed your eyes, your bare legs curled to your chest. The curtain was just skewed enough to let the light pour onto your face and drown you in the light. You groaned, moving to get out of bed only to realize your waist was so warm because a hand was holding it.

You froze, frowning as you looked down and realized that you were no longer in your dress, but in a white button-down shirt and John Shelby's fingers were stretched between the buttons touching your bare stomach.

John flexed his hand, pulling your back closer to his bare chest as he murmured in your ear.

"Slow down, love," he rasped. "M'head is going off like a grenade field. Fuck. Whiskey without food was probably a bad idea."

He buried his face into the back of your neck as your head raced to find a memory after the bar but only came up blank.

"John," you said hesitantly. "Where's my dress?"

"On the floor where you left it," he murmured. You could tell he hadn't even opened his eyes yet. He was willing you back to sleep. "It wasn't comfortable for sleep so I gave you my shirt you're wearing."

"I see," you licked your dry lips as your eyes darted around the hotel room. "I need, uh, water."

You jolted from his arm and scurried across the room to the wash room, eyes squinted as the pounding in your head intensified. You turned the faucet on and splashed your face with cold water before catching some in your hand to drink. You held onto the sink for a moment, letting the water drip from your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes were hollowed from lack of sleep, skin and lips parched. You tried again to remember what happened after the bar, after the smirk and kisses and stumbling over yourselves. After your suggestive words to the Shelby known to bed women often and well. Nothing.

You looked behind you, noticing John had appeared in the door frame, a lazy smile spread across his face as you couldn't help but look down at his shirtless chest and then back to his half lidded eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned against the frame, watching you in the silence for a moment.

"We didn't, if you were unsure," he said, voice still raspy from the morning. "Though not from your lack of suggestion."

"My dress?"

"Took it off in front of me, devil woman," John said with a smirk. "Took all I had in me to fight you off me trousers."

"Why did you?" The fear of bedding him turned into fear of his rejection. It burned through your veins and cheeks.

"I promised you'd scream my name," he said as he pushed off the door. "No use if you can't remember you did it."

John walked to the sink, grabbing a cup and filling it with the running water. He threw his head back and greedily gulped it down, lines of cool water overflowing the cup and running down his neck. You watched the water intently, droplets now running down his chest.

He lowered the empty glass and licked the water from his top lip. You suddenly noticed how close he was as you fought to focus back on his bright blue eyes. The skin crinkled around them as he looked down at you.

A thought bloomed in your head, pushing through the pounding pain and blossoming into a devilish smile.

You slowly took the cup from his hand and bit your lip as you refilled it and brought it to your lips. You mimicked his chug of water, allowing it to overflow and run down your face. Right onto his white shirt.

He exhaled long and slow, his eyes trailing the water as it seeped through the shirt and cooled your skin.

"Fucking hell, woman," he exhaled as his hand grabbed the back of his head. "Is it your personal goal to make me cross the line?"

"I told you last night that I don't want a good man," you said as your fingers trailed your lips, your neck, the collar of the shirt. His eyes bulged as you popped the top button and then the second.

"I want John Shelby."

John moved to take a step but stopped. He dragged his eyes from your chest to your face, finding a smile and a small nod.

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89 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

When Will He Learn? Part 2

Part 1

Warnings: smut. Sex. Oral. Blood. Brutality. Filth. Murder. They're criminals, guys, they do bad things. And boy, did Alfie do bad things.

Word count: 4095

"You made the gossip rag, treacle," Alfie hummed amusedly as he sat at the breakfast table, thumbing through the newspaper. "Page 6."

You froze holding your morning coffee, in nothing but his button up shirt, standing across the table. Your bare feet rooted to the wood beneath you as you tried to breathe. Your father always warned you not to make the gossip column or else you'd ruin the family name.

"What does it say?" You said as you licked your dry lips.

Alfie looked at you over the paper and lowered it just enough for you to see his wolfish smile. He let go of one side and revealed his knee, patting it slowly.

"Come sit and we'll read it together, pet."

You floated around the table and sat on his knee without a thought, leaning back into his shoulder as his arm wrapped around you to grab the end of the newspaper and lift it back up to read.

You relaxed, content to be encircled by him. You had been hiding out in his home all weekend after leaving the benefit and it felt more like home than your father's home ever did. There was no tiptoeing or niceties; there was only acceptance of what you were and what you wanted to be. Alfie had been your best friend for years and already knew your quirks long before he fell into your bed. The intimacy was always there, the sex only heightened it.

"That asshole fiance is calling for you, pet," Alfie said as he picked up his cane and straightened his clothes.

He extended his hand.

"You told me to fix it," he said. "That might take some time. Do you want to come with me or play house while I bury that piss poor bloke?"

You grabbed his hand without hesitation.

"Take me home, Alfie."

You sipped your coffee as you let the memory dissipate. He cleared his throat and squinted at the article.

"Says here that your father and fiance have been looking for you since the big night of the benefit when you slipped away by cover of darkness."

Alfie nuzzled into your hair for a moment, giving you goosebumps as his hot breath grazed your neck.

"They're calling you wild, love," he purred. "If they only knew what you've been doing with me the last few nights."

"Are you calling me wild, Mr. Solomons?" You exhaled, your heart frozen in fear of his answer.

"No," he whispered. "I'm calling you free. There's a vast difference, love. One the likes of them wouldn't understand."

The emotion in your chest swelled as you did your best to hide a smile against the rim of your cup. You felt Alfie lean back in the chair as he cleared his throat.

"Blah, blah, blah, scandal as the future husband searches high and low," he resumed reading. "Piss poor job searching, in my opinion. You're right here in my lap. Blah, blah, blah. Father refuses to comment. Interesting. I got a message from daddy dearest just this morning asking to meet with me at his place of business."

"What are you going to do?" You asked, startled.

You whipped your head around to look at him. Alfie kissed your shoulder before looking up at you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Why wouldn't I visit with dear old dad about his missing daughter?" He asked. "As your oldest friend, I am just as worried as he is. What could that terrible future husband of yours have done to make such a good girl disappear so?"

"So that's your plan, is it?" You gasped, delighted and horrified.

"I can't bloody imagine what you mean, pet," Alfie scoffed, bouncing his leg to bump you onto your feet. "Now go play with Cyril or laze about while I go meet with daddy."

You looked at him for a moment.

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95 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

When Will He Learn?

Alfie Solomons x reader

Word count: 2933

Warnings: Smut. They're criminals guys, they do bad things.

Note: ... this was a smash and dash, so I probably missed some edits. I'm sorry!

"Alfie," you smiled your first real smile of the evening. "Father didn't tell me you were on the list."

You leaned in to hug your oldest friend, confidant, and – most recently– ex-lover.

"I'm not, pet," he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek. "I'm just here to tell you how beautiful you fucking are and to whisk you away from that poor sod you're engaged to."

"What say you," Alfie said as he wiggled his eyebrows. "I'll find us a cozy place away from this fucking wank event."

"Alfie," you laugh as you playfully smack his shoulder. "You know I'm to work the event for more donations."

The fundraiser was going to be much like the other ones; rich people finding excuses to wear expensive clothes and compliment each other. They were so exciting when you were younger, but you grew bored of them as you got older and realized they were just another place for society to play its games.

Your father was a prominent man in London and although it afforded you some small freedoms, it mostly caged you. The expectations of society were bars to your cell, and although your father loved you, he did not know you.

You had nervously smoothed your red dress multiple times, making the rounds of the fundraiser without your fiance all evening. Although he was there, your father thought it best you start apart and then meet together to converse with the larger donors. Always a plan.

"Who would notice, eh," he said as he took your hand and spun you before pulling you to his chest again and murmuring. "Who would truly notice if you skipped out back with me through the servant doors and we go skip down the merry fucking cobble, eh?"

"My father, for one," you replied weakly, looking from Alfie's blazing eyes down to his lips. "And my fiance."

"Don't stare at a man's lips unless you want them to work, love," he teased. "I'll cover you from head to toe until you scream. Again."

"I told you," you said as you shifted uncomfortably and broke away from his arms. "We can't. I'm to be married soon. I can't skip around town with you like a common whore when I'm to marry and be a respectable wife."

"Who told you that?" Alfie said as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you away to a corner of the room, hiding you both behind a pillar.

"The words sound recited, pet. Better try again. I'll bet anything," Alfie ran his hand along your jaw. "That you want nothing of becoming a respectable wife."

"Do you remember Margate? The waves hitting us–"

You leaned into his warm calloused hand, enjoying his touch.

"The sea air cool against the skin," he said as he leaned closer, lips nearly touching yours. "And those little sounds you made–"

"Alfie, enough," you snapped back to reality, realizing where you were.

You moved to walk away but Alfie's hand shot to your throat, pinning you to the pillar.

"He doesn't know, does he, pet?" He murmured, wetting his lips as he squeezed your throat a little tighter. "He has no bloody clue how fucking filthy you are. How you can be. Poor bloke, innit."

"Alfie, this is hardly the time–"

"What, love, afraid your new little friends will get the wrong impression?" Alfie chuckled darkly as he ran his thumb along your lips. "I'm full of wrong impressions, but I've never been wrong about you."

"I told you it's over," you said weakly. "We're in the middle of a fundraiser–"

"Not quite," Alfie mused as he let go of you before looking side to side and leaning in. "We're hiding in a dark little corner, aren't we pet? Because as much as he expexts you to shine for him, you're still in the dark with me."

"You led me here," you said indignantly as you went around him to join the party.

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586 notes - Posted May 23, 2022

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