#alfie Solomons imagine

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.  

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though... 

“Next lad!”  

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.  

“Next lad!” 

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.  

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”  

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”  

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”  

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”  

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.” 

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.  

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.  

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.  

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”  

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”  

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?” 

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”  

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.  

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”  

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.  

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.” 

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.  

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”  

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”  

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”  

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”  

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.  

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.  

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”  

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.  

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes. 

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.” 

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.  

[anonymooseforever007]

I Know Him

(Platonic Alfie Solomons x step daughter reader) (Background Finn Shelby x Reader)

Summery: Alfie Solomons is in for a surprise one morning when his soon to be step daughter greets him with a hug. Which wasn't unusual in itself, but he never expected it to happen at Tommy Shelby's house... or while she was wearing Finn Shelby's clothes....

A/N: Hi Y'all! I don't think there are any TW's for this! I just wanted to write a fluffy and funny idea about Alfie realising his sweetheart's daughter is dating a Shelby and she's just absolutely oblivious to their past. Also as with all of my Finn stories both him and the reader are over 18. Enjoy! ❤️

WC- 4.0k

Main Masterlist

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He was dreaming.

Yes, that had to be it. She couldn't really be here could she? It wasn't really her was it? Smiling to him at seven in the morning at his friendliest enemy's house? In..... is that the little one's shirt?

He had to be dreaming. There was no other explanation to it.

At least that's what Alfie Solomons told himself once he saw his sweetheart's daughter waving at him when he walked in the front hall of Tommy Shelby's house that morning. Not only was she waving, but she was practically jumping up and down in excitement when she saw him, eager to see the man who would be her stepfather one day.... 

"ALFIE!! Is that you!!! Hi!!! What are you doing here?! My mum said you had a trip this week!"

Bouncy Excitement? Speaking at sonic speeds? Criminal amounts of energy for this early in the morning? Almost falling face first on the floor in her rush to hug him?..... Yep. This was his Y/N.

Automatically, Alfie returned the hug, something he'd grown more than accustomed to doing with his fiancée's daughter. Especially when it had been a few weeks since he'd seen you. You were born when your parents were fifteen, and now twenty years later, you were in your second year at a university, halfway between London and Birmingham. Your father had tragically died during the war, and it had taken your mother almost a decade to start dating again. And if by a storybook miracle, she'd fallen helplessly for the single, "semi-retired", grumpiest neighbor in Margret, who often walked with a cane and whose only friend seemed to be his dog. Three years ago they'd met one day when Cryil had lost his collar and you had found him sitting pitifully under a tree....not even two gardens down from his home. But you hadn't know then, and believing the dog to have no family, took him back to your house. It wasn't hard either, as soon you held out your hand, Cyril was up, eagerly following his "new master" and it wasn't until the next day Alfie showed up, having heard the familiar barking. He'd been searching for Cyril all night, only to finally hear his yapping not even two doors down. Furious at the idea someone had kidnapped his best friend, Alfie had come over, knocking angrily on the door, with half a mind to take up his "old" profession. But when the door opened, instead of a grisly old bastard, Alfie was met with the closest thing to an angel he'd ever seen. It wasn't just her beauty, but her voice and the kind way she looked at him that captivated the man. And then when he looked inside the house he'd seen another young woman, laughing as Cyril attempted to sit on her lap in the small chair. And he wouldn't realise it until a few months later, but that would be a sight Alfie wanted to see every morning. A year later, he'd officially started going around with your mother, though the secret was well kept from any of his business associates. Alfie also saw the younger woman herself as his own child now too. He'd even taking to calling you "Shiny" after your sunny disposition. He wouldn't admit it, but Alfie definitely teared up, more than once, on the first day the couple dropped you off at your University. He also wouldn't admit how he'd never been more nervous than six months ago when he'd asked you for permission to propose. You had obviously said yes, but not before staring at him silently for six minutes with a gaze that could make any Shelby break into a sweat. Speaking of Shelbys ....

"Y/N why are you hugging Alfred Solomons?"

Alfie looked up at the stairs and saw not one, but at least four (and a half) different Shelby watching him from the stairs. Now he could have chosen to make fun of the mess that was Arthur's hair, but instead he focused on someone else. Because Arthur's hair may have look like a drunken bird's nest, but it was Finn Shelby who'd spoken.... And it was Finn Shelby wearing the matching pants to your shirt. So it was Finn Shelby who was currently in a lot more danger than he was five minutes ago. Truthfully, Alfie had only talked to the young man twice and hadn't been bothered by the quiet Shelby too much. In fact, he might even go as far to say the he favoured Finn the most because he'd talked to him the least. And the more the Shelbys talked to Alfie, the less he began to like them. But the sight before Alfie was enough to send Finn Shelby right to the top of the "excruciatingly painful death" hit list he promised your mother he'd "lost" long ago.

"FINN! Look! It's Alfie! I've told you about him haven't I?"

Finn himself was still half asleep, but he'd heard your surprised shout from the bedroom when you went to the bathroom and wanted to make sure you were alright. Only he thought he was still dreaming when he saw you embracing the man who had caused his family so much trouble before. Evidently, your excitement had been brought to more than one Shelby's attention and now he was standing with Arthur, Linda, Lizzie (holding Ruby), and John at the top of the stairs. All half awake and just as confused. Most of them were wondering if this was going to be another Grace situation.... But you hadn't noticed any of that yet. Hurrying up the stairs, you'd grabbed Finn's hand and brought the still tried younger man down to "meet" Alfie. Once the two men were situated in front of each other, you spoke the words that shocked both of them wide awake.

"Finn meet Alfie, my step dad. And Alfie meet Finn, my Boyfriend."

"STEP DAD?"

"BOYFRIEND!!!"

"Ahhh yes!! Isn't it great!! You two get to meet for the first time!! Ohh you'll love each other so much!!"

Oblivious to the shock of your companions, you bounced on the balls of your feet, eager for your favourite two men to finally meet. From the top of the stairs, John had rushed off to wake up Esme and Ada, while Linda was coaching Arthur through breathing again. Lizzie just sipped her tea silently as baby Ruby clapped at the drama. Finn stared at the floor, trying to process what he'd just heard. In the end, it was Alfie whose shock was broken first.

"No."

The bouncing stopped and it was your turn to look at Alfie confused.

"What do you mean no?"

"You're not dating him Shiny."

"Yes, I am." 

"No, you're not."

"Yes, Alfie I am." You said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"You're dating him?"

"Yes!"

"Did they kidnap you? Are they forcing you to say this?"

"No?"

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure I'm not kidnapped?"

"He asked you out and you agreed?"

"He took me for dinner and a movie!"

"You agreed to be with him?"

"Eagerly!"

"You and him?"

"Him and I!"

"Him?"

"Yes! Isn't he brilliant!"

Eagerly, you looked towards your boyfriend who looked offend by the fact Alfie didn't seem to believe you could ever have any interest in him. Sure, Finn occasionally questioned it himself multiple times a day, but still. Though you payed no attention to his annoyance and wrapped your arms around your love, happily hugging him to yourself. Then you turned around facing your soon to be step father again, with Finn's arms still wrapped comfortably around your waist as they had been when you'd woken up that morning.

"Why?"

"What do you mean why Ally? He's brilliant! He's nice and strong and respectful. He takes me on fun dates and he listens to me. He lets me hug and kiss him whenever I want and he's not afraid to tell me how he feels, though it did take a bit to get to that part! He lets me hold his hand and steal his shirts and he doesn't mind it when I ramble a lot. And there's a whole bunch more too but that's just the tip. I ran into him at a race with my friends one day and we just clicked. Isn't it great! He treats me exactly how you treat my mom and I think that's brilliant! Finn's brilliant!"

Alfie froze for a second thinking about his options. On one hand you obviously knew nothing about what the Shelby really did for work and must not have realised what you were getting yourself into. On the other hand, you were one of the smartest people Alfie knew, and if Finn really did treat you like Alfie treated your mother, you'd know about his past by the second date... And you'd chosen to accept that. Alfie didn't know which idea scared him more. But right now he could see something else. You were happy....Very happy. Genuinely happy, in the fact you looked at Finn the same way your mother looked at Alfie... Shit you were in love with him. You loved Finn Shelby. And despite the sleep deprived confusion over the boy's face, Alfie had noticed the little spark in Finn's eye that lit up then he'd seen you. Alfie had seen the way Finn had pulled you slightly closer when you'd spun in his arms. You loved Finn Shelby and it seemed he loved you too. Shit. So despite his general distaste for Shelbys, Alfie did the last thing he wanted to do....But he did it for you. Because just like did your mother he'd do anything to see you smile.

"Well then gingersnap. If you treat my girl that nicely... then I guess it's alright to meet you isn't it?"

Somewhat begrudgingly, Alfie stuck his arm out toward the younger man. Finn stared at the arm, hesitantly, as if the moment he touched it, Alfie would pull him on to a knife. And truth be told, if he'd known it wouldn't make you mad, Alfie may have done that. But seeing your beaming grin, made shaking hands worth it. The hidden wince on Finn's face as Alfie increased his grip also seemed to get the unspoken message threat across. One tear from you and every peace deal between the families would be off. And all types of retribution would be fair game.... if your mother didn't get rid of Finn first that was.

 And finally it seemed Finn had processed your earlier words. He had also noticed your eager face and wanted to proceed with caution, careful of crushing your spirits. Obviously you'd mistaken Alfie for your real stepdad? The man you told Finn about so much couldn't possibly be the one who'd thrown his oldest brother in jail and betrayed Tommy every other weekend? Ada and Esme had joined the "observation deck"(second floor balcony) now, and John had gotten his gun incase things went south. Tommy was still no where to be seen.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah Finny?"

"You said this is your step dad?"

"Yes.... well technically not for a few more months, but the wedding is soon and he's basically already it!" 

"Right...but Y/N? You said your step dad was a nice older man who lived by the sea? He's a bit grumpy, but really sweet and likes to make model boats?"

"Yeah he does! This is him! You'll get along great!"

It was Alfie's turn to look slightly offended now. He wasn't that old, and it also occurred to him that while he told your mother about his "past" job, Alfie had never actually explained it to you. You genuinely thought Alfie was a retired baker. Sure, every now and then he'd tell you he was heading to London to consult another friend who was still in business, but that was it. And since you weren't raised in the big city, you really had no knowledge about Alfie's old job. Suddenly, he was dreading the imminent conversation more than ever before. 

"This is him? Are you sure?"

"Yep! I think I know what the guy banging my mum looks like Finny. Not that I ever see it...ew... but you know, Cyril doesn't get locked out of the master bedroom for anything!"

It was a good thing Alfie still had his beard because it helped hide the slight reddening of his cheeks and ears then. It wasn't that he was embarrassed about repeatedly making love to such a magnificent women, it was one of his proudest achievements actually...... but there was something about the fact her daughter knew that made him want to hide... just a little bit. Finn's face also turned red at the mention of Alfie's physical love life.

"Alright love, I believe ya. Just no more about his bedside manner alright? I don't wanna picture that."

"And I don't think I want you picturing it witchy."

"Finally!!," you cheered, clapping your hands quietly, happy both men finally seemed to understand what was going on. But then it brought you to your next question.

"Alfie?.... Why are you here though?.... oh please don't tell me my mum sent you to pick me up?"

"What no, your mum wouldn't do that...wait she knows you're here? What's she got to say about the lanky carrot top here? And how long has this been going on?" Alfie used his fingers to point between your shirt and Finn's pants, indicating what specifically the last sentence meant. Slightly tired of all the questioning you sighed. 

"I called her last night to tell her. It was too late to go back to my apartment and Finn said I could stay here. His brothers were fine with it too....ohh have you met them? I think you'd like Arthur! He likes boxing too, ya know!....but she knows. Also don't call him the lanky carrot top, that's mean. And it's been going on for almost a year now. Not the sleepovers, but the dating bit. We met right before summer break and you know....kept meeting up."

"A fucking year! Hell Shiny, when were you gonna tell us?" Alfie was shocked once again. You'd been dating Finn a whole year and hadn't mentioned it? A small part of him was hurt too, that you hadn't told him yet. He vividly remembered only a couple years ago, when you'd barge into his house looking for Cyril and just start telling him all about your day. Finn stood by just watching the observation, rubbing his red hair self consciously. It wasn't even that red, was it?

"ALMOST a year, and to be fair we hadn't make it official until a few months ago. I just didn't mention it because I wasn't sure if he was really into me or not....But he was, which is great! And I actually told my mom last month and she said I could bring Finn over next weekend maybe to meet him. She was suppose to tell you.... OHH WAIT! I have an idea!"

You were bouncing again, pleased with your new plan. Your mum said you could invite Finn to the house next week, and even though from your calls she seemed to like him, you knew she wasn't just gonna let him slide right into your bed....figuratively speaking. You were her only child and knew she wanted to make sure you were being treated right, so you figured she'd be a bit hard on him at first. When speaking on the phone last week, you'd also overheard her asking Alfie if he'd mind coming over early that day. You knew she wanted him around for a bit more intimidation. The big, dark, grisly figure standing in the shadows, while she interrogated Finn about his intentions. But maybe this unexpected meeting could work in your favour.

"This is great!! Since you and Finn have just met, and you seem to get along great, you can help me show him off to my mum next week! You can vouch that's he's as good as he looks!"

Alfie just stared at you.

There wasn't a single world in which he wanted to positively vouch for any Shelby. Especially one who apparently thought it was acceptable to get within ten feet of you..... without a shirt too. But then again, you had this slightly infuriating way of looking at Alfie. One smile and he was suddenly letting you paint fucking flowers on his fence to brighten the front yard or blowing up who knows what in his backyard. He really did give you too much power sometimes...

"You want me to vouch for him!"

"Yes, I mean you don't have anything against him do you?"

"Fucking actually..."

"What the hell is going on?"

Finally, Tommy showed up, his boots slightly dirty from the barn outside. He'd woken up early to check on the pregnant mare. Only he came back inside to find almost his entire family staying in the front hall, in their pyjamas, along with Y/N and Alfie. The latter of whom he didn't realise was up. If he'd known Alfie was awake, Tommy would have skipped the horse today. If only to insure Alfie didn't go rummaging around. On top of that, Alfie was shooting Finn a glare, hard enough to make Tommy shiver, not that he showed it. What his youngest brother had done to deserve that baffled him, but Tommy had some idea it had to do with the young woman grinning ear to ear.

"Well?"

"Oh! Morning Tommy! Have you met Alfie? He's my stepdad!"

Tommy's nose wrinkled slightly and his lips drew into a thin line. But his eyes went wide and his brows furrowed in confusion. That was probably the last thing he'd expected to hear that morning.

"What?"

This time it was John who spoke up from the top of the stairs, eager to see more drama.

"Yep Tom! This one here is the spawn of Alfie's soon to be missus! Isn't that something?"

Tommy looked at you, and then Alfie, and then you again, then Finn, and finally back to you. Not because he didn't like you, but because he remembered the past, Tommy glared at you lightly.

"Are you a fucking spy? Because I won't have you going around with Finn if you're going to be sharing everything to Alfie here. And you better tell the fucking truth."

Surprised and slightly scared by his change in tone, you took a step back. Despite his reputation, Tommy had always been nice to you, if not a bit reserved like he was with most people. So hearing his "boss" voice was a bit jarring. Annoyed by his tone towards you, Finn and Alfie both stepped forward, glaring at the man who had spoken. You stared in confusion at Tommy for a second, before shrugging and laughing like he'd told a joke.

"Spy? I'm not a spy. What are you talking about Tommy? That's a funny joke though. Y/N the spy.... na I'm a terrible liar. Can't keep a straight face for the life of me. But why would I spy on you for Alfie? He's got nothing to do with the races or any shipping company like you run. It wouldn't make sense for me to share all your plans with him."

Behind you, both Alfie and Finn were drawing lines across their necks with a hand. The universal symbol for "don't say a fucking thing, change the subject", but it may have already been too late. You had glanced behind yourself to see if Finn had liked your joke and noticed the cutting motions of the two men. Suddenly your eyes widened, and you started looking between Alfie and Tommy, and then Alfie and the rest of the Shelbys. It was like a light flipped in your head and internally, Alfie winced at what might occur. But once again you surprised all of them.

"Wait! Are y'all working together!!.... Oh y'all do know each other! Alfie why didn't you just stay that in the first place? I wouldn't have made you shake Finn's hand again. That's why you're here isn't it? Y'all have business together? Are ya partners?"

Alfie cleared his throat and prepared to tell you the inevitable. Sure, he knew he should tell you he was a semi retired gangster, but he was slightly worried when you learned, you wouldn't look at him the same way anymore. He was afraid you'd be a bit scared of him, and for all intents and purposes, Alfie didn't want his kid to be scared of him.

"Well, Shiny... yes we are working together. You see..."

"OHH I KNEW IT! Are you gonna start selling bread at the races? I think that would be a great idea!! Like alcohol is great, but it would be so nice to have a muffin or something too.... OH OH OH ... I know! Alfie you should sell your sugar rolls! Finn you have to try them they're so good....Alfie has this special apron he wears when making them."

Alfie groaned at the mention of the pink apron your mother had gotten him last holiday. You really were just revealing all his secrets weren't you? And he couldn't even wack you over the head like he'd do with anyone else.... Finn process your words and then stared grinning as big as you were. He loved it when you started to go off on a tangent. After all it was a brilliant idea too. Finn always got hungry during the races. He was always hungry in general, but the anticipation of what horse would win made him hungrier than usual.

"That is a good idea! I get hungry at those and they never have any snacks. Why don't we do that Tom?"

Tommy just furrowed his brows again, completely lost to what was going on. That was one thing he realised when he first met you. See Finn, when given the chance to speak, could jump from topic to topic within minutes and never seemed to go on a straight path. You did the exact same thing....but much much more. And while it was amusing to watch at times, it could get dizzying when you and your boyfriend went round and round in circles. And if they didn't stop it quick, this would be one of those times.... It was too early in the morning for that. So Tommy interrupted. 

"Yes! That's exactly what we're doing. That's why he's here. To make plans to sell bread at the races."

It was a lie of course, but even Tommy could respect Alfie's wish to tell you on his own time. Besides, it wasn't actually a bad idea. Alfie nodded his head in agreement like they hadn't planned on robbing a train last night. 

"Yep Shiny, you got us. I remembered you mentioning it once, and thought why not see if I could pitch the idea. Didn't know you'd be here though. Kinda ruins the surprise so just promise to act like you didn't know. Be as sightful as my half blind eye yeah?"

Laughing, your rolled your eyes at your stepfather's joke, before yawning into Finn's chest. The early morning hour was starting to get to you again. You really had only come to use the bathroom before noticing Alfie. Now you just wanted to get back in the warm bed for a bit longer.

"Deal, alright. I can keep my lips shut. But only if you also add the knot shaped chocolate pastries to the menu too! Those are my favourite."

Finn's stomach interrupted the conversation causing the both of you to laugh. Even the mention of food was enough to bring his appetite back. Turning to your boyfriend you hugged him again, revelling in the warmth you loved to burrow into. Standing on your toes, you reached up to whisper in his ear and he smiled softly before nodding back. You turned to the rest of the room and addressed Tommy.

"Welp this was nice, but can we go raid your pantry please? It's been at least seven hours since this one's eaten, so soon he'll start to shrivel up."

Good-naturedly, Tommy rolled his eyes, he knew it was Finn sneaking around the kitchen only three hours ago. He was the only one who closed up the bags of food he stole from by placing another bag over the messily folded edges when he couldn't get a knot tied in the dark again. Finn was also the only one who made peanut butter and pickle sandwiches, leaving the dirty knife and plate in the sink for the next morning.

"That's fine, you two can go off, Alfie and I here have to finish a few details for the deal."

Giving Alfie another quick hug, you and Finn headed off leaving the rest of the company in the main hall. His arm was around your shoulder and they could see you laughing at something Finn whispered in your ear. Alfie watched for a moment. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad. At least you hadn't stated dating Sabini's nephew.  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From the top of the stairs Arthur leaned over to John.

"Does this mean we can't slash his tires anymore?"

".....Eh probably."

"Fuck, was looking forward to that."

[imaginesmai]

Alfie Solomons - Night adventures

I've been sick for week now with the worst stomach bug ever, and this has been on my mind for a few days! Welcome back Alfie to my blog!

Plot: Alfie doesn't come home from work and you worry something has happened, so you decided to go to the bakery.

Warning: Alfie's vocabulary is just saying fuck, really.

The streets were empty, too late for the common citizens and too early for the unfortunate first-shift workers. You had only found a beggar sleeping in a pile of boxes and two men trying to get home stumbling through the pavement. The silence, the darkness, would have been a good reason to turn back and worry about him under the covers, warm and safe. When a cat jumped from a window and landed on a car, you actually took a few steps back.

But Cyril stared at the menace until the animal hissed its way back to wherever it belonged.

Swallowed in one of Alfie’s long coats, with his hat covering your face, you finished the thirty minutes’ walk to the bakery. A faint light was coming from the top floor, and anyone would have thought bakers were starting their day early.

You knew it was your husband, Alfie, who hadn’t finished his yet. There was a man posted on the back entrance, the one you always used when you came to see him unexpected. It was closer to his office, it was more discreet, and besides, you knew Ollie. He would be one less problem for you that night.

When the boy saw you approach him, his whole back tensed. His hand made it to the holster on his hip before he recognized Cyril and your soft smile, once you were close enough. The soft street light let you see his panicked stare.

“What – Y/N, what the fuck are you doin’ here?” he quickly grabbed you by your arm and, checking both sides, pushed you inside the bakery. “It’s fuckin’ two in the mornin’!”

“I am aware of that, Ollie, since I also own a watch” you told him, taking down your hat.

“How did you get – does he know you’re here?” Ollie, who had been almost asleep leaning against the door, was now growing agitated. “You didn’ brin’ a car. You walked?”

“Me and Cyril, yeah”

The familiar warmth of the bakery felt good against your sore muscles. Not only you had half-jogged half-ran for thirty minutes, but the tension of the night and the worries for him had made the cold weather of November seep into your bones. You weren’t about to let Ollie notice how glad you were to be finally somewhere safe, because that would only prove a point you were trying to avoid.

“Y/N, it’s the middle of the night”

“So it is for my husband, who was supposed to be home with me. But that big head must have forgotten his own watch at home, given he’s still here”

“He’s not alone. Someone came to see him, and the meetin’… yeah, it was longer than wha’ he thought”

“Oi, wha’ that noise ‘bout, yeah?” a booming voice came from the floor above you, the door of his office banging open. “Didn’ I ask for silence?”

Alfie, in all his grumpy and broody glory, leaned against the railing and saw both of you. You weren’t surprised to see he was still wearing his working clothes, a small, stained pinny wrapped around his waist. His hair was sticking in different directions from being tugged at, and his face complemented his mood when he locked eyes with you.

Of course, Cyril tried to reach him and let his presence be known with loud barks. You passed his leash to Ollie and made your way up to your husband’s office. The metal stairs echoed under your shoes, and even if you kept your eyes on them, you felt his on you every second.

Far from being intimidated or angry, you felt your worries melting away. He usually came home before the sun set – had picked that tradition years ago once you were officially married and hadn’t missed a day. But it had been a rough week for the both of you, and when he hadn’t shown up, you had feared the worst. Patiently, you had waited and called his office. After not receiving an answer and not hearing the door, you had decided to check for yourself.

You weren’t naïve enough to go alone, but since there wasn’t anyone around to accompany you, Cyril had been your bodyguard for the night. Many things could have happened. Some of them you could imagine, some remember from past experiences because of his enemies’ retaliations. All of them were present in Alfie’s eyes as you reached the top of the stairs and met him face to face.

“Hello”

His nostrils flared and he pressed his lips in a tight line, but behind all of that there was just fear. You waited until he looked at every part of your body, from your soft smile to the hem of your skirt. One of your hands took his fist and didn’t let go until he held it. Alfie didn’t let his frown go as he raised it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Aren’ your suppos’ to be in bed” he growled against your hand.

“With you, but you didn’t come and I was worried” you explained, moving a step closer to him. “Called and no one answered. I didn’t know if… so I came to check. Brought Cyril with me”

“Stupid dog knows you ain’t suppos’ to leave” Alfie looked down at Cyril, and his eyes softened. “You alrigh’, yeah? Nothin’ happen?”

“I’m fine. Just tired. And worried about you”

“Come ‘ere”

You fell into his arms and the remains of worry and tension left your body. He smelt like rum, bread and sweat, like home. You closed your eyes when his hand found the back of your head and pressed it against his shoulder. Later, you would probably have a long conversation about what you had done. Not only it had been reckless, but if you had been right, there wasn’t much you could have done.

His life came with highs and downs, and you had been there enough to know them. That doesn’t meant you had grown used to the feeling of not knowing if he was fine or not, if he was alive. When you hugged him closer, your arms around his middle, you let him know that you were glad.

Someone opened the door and you saw Tommy Shelby walking out of Alfie’s office. You didn’t like that man, neither did he like you, but you both respected each other enough. Eventually, their relationship would go south, either because of his or Alfie’s biggest interest; and you just hoped it wouldn’t go too south.

Alfie noticed his stare and turned around. Instinctively, you were covered by his huge back, not seeing anything but the sweaty locks at the back of his neck.

“I believe we were in the middle of something”

“And I believe it’s time for my husband to come home” you said from behind Alfie, trying to move around. Effectively, Alfie moved with you.

“Your’ gonna ‘ave to excuse my wife, mate. She’s right, ain’t she” Alfie said. He gripped your hand again and made you stay in place.

When it came to you and the business, Alfie Solomons had always had it clear. You had walked into his life and turned everything around, and if needed to, he would leave it all behind if you asked to. You always came first, no matter what. He could come home late, share his matters with you and attend to political galas by your side, but if you asked something, he could not say no.

So he stared down at Tommy, who had been arguing for the past six hours. He had just showed up when he was about to close the bakery, and the bouquet of flowers he had bought you was now sad and forgotten in the storage room.

“Alfie” Tommy warned him. “We need to close the deal. I’m not about to risk half my percentage if you aren’t willing to take the risk”

“The only risk I’m takin’ tonig’ is this lovely lady back ‘ome”

“You don’t get to kick me out! I am –“

Before Tommy could grow any more aggressive, he had Alfie’s gun pressed tightly against his chin. The baker was a few inches shorter than him, but somehow, he stared down at Tommy, daring him to keep talking. The Shelby brother looked at you with your arms crossed, biting back his next words.

“Listen, now, cause I believe, this¸ right, this is my fuckin’ bakery. My fuckin’ rum. Money. Business. And that’s my fuckin’ wife your’ lookin’ at, so unless you wan’ to go ‘ome wit’ one less eye, Shelby, stop fuckin’ lookin’ at ‘er”

“Get your fucking hands – “

“Shut the fuck up! You, barkin’ orders, at me?! In my fuckin’ work?!” Alfie screamed into his face, making Tommy take a few steps back. When the man once more met your eyes with the same, disgusted face, Alfie struck him with the gun. “Are you fuckin’ deaf?! Don’ look at her or I’ll rip your eyes out with my nails!”

Cyril barked as if he supported his owner’s words. You looked down and noticed Ollie was no longer alone. There were three other men, that had appeared out of thin air, at the bottom of the stairs. All of them looked ready to climb it in less than a second.

Not too far away, Tommy’s men would be close. It wouldn’t be the first time Alfie got into trouble because of you, or the last. His protectiveness was founded, but sometimes he went a little overboard. Tommy had looked at you many times before, and had been threatened each time he had done it.

Some part of you wondered if he was a sucker for Alfie’s threats or was really looking for them to become true.

Before your night could escalate into bigger events, you moved behind Alfie and wrapped your hands around his raised arm. You had gone to the bakery to find out if Alfie was there, to retrieve him from his pile of work and hopefully catch a few hours of sleep by his side. After a long day of own work, you were tired and in need of some peace.

“Let’s just go home”

Under your touch, Alfie relaxed and dropped the gun. He kept his eyes locked on Tommy and the man was smart enough to clean the blood of his lip and turn back. You guessed his men should be on the main entrance, and you were really thankful you had chosen the back one.

You watched him disappear. Watched, in silence, as the group of men that had surrounded you went back to their corners where you couldn’t see them. Alfie didn’t bother retrieving anything from his office, just closed the door and let you lead the way down the stairs.

Once you were down, he nodded to Ollie and the boy disappeared, carrying Cyril with him.

“That was dangerous, pet” he said, his voice soft. There was a rough, scared edge you had grown to notice through the years. “You, yeah, you can’t jus’ come ‘ere. You need to tell me”

“I know, Alf. But I did call. And you always answer. I knew you had a meeting and since you didn’t come home, I didn’t know what to think” you told him, not giving him. “What if it was the other way? What if I didn’t come home one night? Wouldn’t you come looking for me too?”

“I’d burn down fuckin’ Camden, luv, you know tha’”

“Then you can’t get angry at me, not at this. I was careful, nothing happened”

It hadn’t happened, but it could. Not only Alfie’s enemies. Night in Camden Town held more dangers than mobsters or gangs, ones that didn’t know who you were married to and weren’t afraid of your husband. It was irresponsible, dangerous, and you knew better.

It wasn’t the time, though, and Alfie knew it.

“Alrigh’, pet, alrigh’. Jus’ try not to send me to an early gave, yeah?”

“You won’t get rid of me even in a grave, Alfie Solomons”

His laugh echoed in the empty bakery. Alfie wrapped his coat closer to your body, not saying anything about your choices of clothes, and put his hat back into your head. Always the gentleman he opened the door for you and dragged you closer to his side.

You didn’t take the path you had walked, but the opposite way. Ollie’s car was waiting for you at the other end of the street, Cyril probably a looming threat in the backseat ready to tackle Alfie as soon as he opened the door. Finally in peace, you wrapped your arm around his middle and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Love you” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Yeah, luv you too, don’ I”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated!

[pacifymebby]

Cuddle fucking with Alfie Solomons pls

It started slowly. Really slowly.

You woke up to the cold early morning, the sun not yet risen, the sheets half kicked off you leaving your shoulders exposed. You were cold, skin scattered with goosebumps, shivering just a little as you tried to shrink back beneath the quilt and press your body against Alfie's. His body was warm, you knew it would be because Alfie was your personal walking furnace and you were welcome to come snuggle against him whenever you needed warming through.

Half asleep you pressed your body against his, relaxing into the heat which radiated from his restful self. He was still asleep, at least you thought he was because his breaths were slow and lethargic, peaceful. But when he felt your back pressing against his chest, awake or asleep, your presence stirred him enough that he let out a quiet groan and shifted, raising his arm and wrapping it around you, squeezing you tighter to him, possessive as he was.

So, instinctively, you pressed yourself back against him a little more, wanting to be as close as possible to your man, wanting to feel the warmth from his chest radiate through you. And you did. Alfie had such a lulling, calming power over you and as you began to warm up in his tight embrace your eyes fluttered shut and you began to drift off.

There was only one thing keeping you from drifting off completely. The closeness between you, the feeling of his arms gripping you tight, holding your body tight to the curve of his so that not a milimeter of space remained between you. So that the pressure of his morning glory digging into your soft bottom was unignorable.

You were trying your best to think of anything else, to focus on anything else. To settle and go back to sleep even, but that slight pressure, the warmth of his erection, was impossible to tune out of. Perhaps if it had been anyone elses it would have been easy to drag yourself away from the bed, forget about them for the rest of the day and go about your business, but not when it was your Alfies. Not when only last night you'd come undone on it, his cock burried deep inside you, fucking into you even after he'd cum and his milky liquid was oozing out of you.

Not when you knew just how easily he could undo you all over again.

But he was sleeping. And Alfie liked to live slowly these days. Now that he had you. Now that he knew he could spend every morning with you wrapped up, naked, in his arms. Now that there was no rush he didn't like to rush. No. If there was one thing Alfie liked to try and teach you, it was patience.

So despite the instinctive roll of your hips, the way you wriggled against him, only almost subconsciously, he didn't stir. Instead he lay there, enjoying the feeling of your needy little wriggles, the way you tried to pretend at innocence when you rubbed your bottom against him and tried to feel a little friction. Instead he just lay there, still holding you nice and tight and snug, making sure you couldn't move too much, making sure you were still close enough to him that every move you made he certainly could enjoy... He wanted to make you wait. He wanted to leave you to your imagination for long enough that your thighs would be sweet at sticky before he'd moved a muscle.

And the more you wriggled and tried to get closer to him the harder he got, the heat between you almost as torturous for him as it was for you.

And even when he did decide to give you a little more, he didn't say a word and neither did you. You smiled to yourself as his calloused fingers teased over your skin, caressing first your shoulder, down your arm, then your waist. He tickled over the soft curve of your belly making you squirm against him, enjoying the way a giggle escaped your lips and ruined your pretence at sleep. He smirked to himself doing it again just for good measure, struggling to hold back the sigh of pleasure when your wriggling hips pushed back against his cock.

You squirmed again, enjoying the feeling of him digging into you, the pressure increasing as he got a little harder with your every move.

And when his hand moved over your breast and squeezed a handful, it was all you could do not to hum in pleasure and push yourself back closer to him once more. You needed him to touch you elsewhere. The more his fingers trailed over your hips and thighs, the more he massaged your breast and pinched at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb abd forefinger absentminded and behaving as if he had no idea the effect on you he was having, the more you needed him. Your core beginning to ache for him. A pulse circulating between your thighs which forced your hips back against him in a gentle, needy motion. Your persistent rhythm pleasing him more than he was letting onto you.

You could feel your arousal between your legs, sticky and desperate, gathering quicker than you'd have liked to admit had this been anyone but your Alfie. But this was your Alfie and your heart was racing in your chest because you knew that sooner or later he was going to take you somewhere no one else could.

You let out a devestating little whine when he hooked your leg with his and dragged your thighs apart, trapping you with your thighs split so that for a moment you were tortured by a breeze glistening over your sticky core, your clit shivering with the cool air stirring your senses.

You bucked your hips against the air and heard him chuckle, he was enjoying your frustration and naturally, that only frustrated you more.

But this was his favourite way to spend a lazy Sunday morning. Teasing you. Working you up into a needy, sticky mess between the sheets so that he could revel in the sight of your shivering body shaking with ecstacy when he finally gave you what you wanted.

He always told you that was his favourite view. Looking down at you bundled up in his arms, your fingers clutching at him as you shivered with your orgasm, moaning and whimpering into his chest. And even though every time he told you that you got embarrassed and blushy, shying away from him, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck, that only made the sight even more spectacular to him. Because he had all that power over you, and in that moment you needed him so much, holding onto him like your life depended on it, little tears of pleasurw gleaming in your eyes.

That was the sight he hoped to work towards that morning as he teased and toyed with you. Enjoying the way his touch left a trail of goosebumps wherever he traced his fingers.

He carried on wordlessly, listening to your breathing and smirking to himself when he recognised how shallow and needy you were beginning to sound. How when he took your hip in his hand and squeezed, when he rubbed his hand firmly over the curve of your bottom and massaged you, taking his time to feel every inch of your body, your breath hitched and you struggled to hide how desperate you were getting.

Because he'd been making a point of avoiding any real pleasure points. Had skimmed his fingertips briefly over your nipples but refused to give you any real satisfaction. Had let his fingers stray close enough to your core to remind you what you really needed, but hadn't so much as ventured to test how wet you were. Then again he didn't need to test that. He knew you well enough to know that by now your arousal would be slick and shining on your inner thighs, that when he did finally glide his fingers between your folds he'd feel that thick warm juice overflowing from your needy little cunt, just the way he liked it.

And he did. When he finally gave you a taste of what you'd been desperate for all this time, he dragged his lips over your shoulder and kissed a trail of warm notes up your neck, his breath tickling your skin, teasing your senses. His fingertips sliding slowly from bottom to top drawing a line between your lips and then finally brushing over your clit. Not enough pressure to truly satisfy you but enough to leave your heart racing, your whole body jolting with the shock of it.

You couldn't help the gasp which left you, sharp and, if he was being honest, music to his ears. You couldn't help the way your hips bucked forward to press yourself into his hand, your cunt rubbing over his two fingers, begging them to touch you harder and longer.

You wanted to whimper and whisper to him, beg him to stop teasing you, but that wasn't how this worked. It was an unspoken rule between you, that you didn't speak. That you kept that sleepy charade up until you were both exhausted and satiated, holding onto one another as you came down from your high.

So even when he really tried to torture you, dragging his fingers in a slow teasibg circle around your clit only to trail them up and away, painting a sticky sweet line of arousal along your naval to your belly button, you didn't say a word. You just closed your eyes and ground your bottom back against his cock, feeling its heat radiate through you, feeling the push as Alfie responded instinctually, grinding harder against you, scraping his teeth over a sensitive patch on your shoulder, kissing you there with his open mouth so that the pleasure washed over you from several places at once and left your head spinning. Your whole body tingling with that need, that desperation to satisfy your desires.

You whimpered again, your mouth open in a little oh as he trailed those two fingers back down your belly, back down your hips, returning to the warmth of your thighs. He held you in his rough palms, massaging your thighs, forcing your legs open a little wider so that your glistening core was left exposed and vulnerable. Throbbing between your legs. The draft torture. The way you bucked your hips and and met nothing but cool air driving you to despair so that when Alfie took your cheek in hand and made you look silently up at him, he saw those tears of desire in your eyes and he couldn't resist you any longer.

His fingers found your clit and pinched, your body jumping so that you wound up pressed even closer to him, him holding you tight and secure, pushing you down into the mattress beneath him. He propped himseld up to get a better view, looking down at you with lustful eyes which trailed the contours of your body slowly and took every inch of you in. He didn't just love you, you were his own private slice of heaven and on mornings like this he wanted only to devour you. Only to send you to heavenly places himself.

He rubbed you slowly at first, watching your breasts as if hypnotised by them, the rise and fall of your chest, the way your body began to shiver and tremble eratically when he rubbed you hard and then soft, slow and then fast. He touched you in a quick, slippery circle, his fingertip rolling over your little pearl over and over so that you began to lose control of yourself and your body quickly. The cascade of whimpers and whispered needy moans music to the older mans ears. You were coming undone for him so so easily and the sight was truly something to behold. Your trembling body spurring the ache inside him, his cock twitching against your soft curving ass. He wanted nothing more than to slip into you there and then, bury himself inside you.

And you needed to feel him inside you too, he could tell because your head had tilted back, resting on his shoulder, your eyes rolled back as the first intense wave of pleasure began to radiate through you. He'd hardly had to do a thing, barely had to touch you and there you were shaking, firework static pleasure errupting inside you, your skin tingling all over with the power of your orgasm. It left you feeling weak, needing him to keep you held together, your body pressed hard against his as he held you firm and secure and scattered hungry kisses over your neck. But he didn't stop, didn't bring you down from your high gently. Instead he acted almost as if he hadn't noticed your cumming at all. Instead he carried on playing with you, rolling your clit beneath his fingertips, rubbing your juices all over your perfect cunt, letting his fingers tease your opening so that you felt yourself clenching and twitching needily for him.

You could feel his cock digging into you from behind, so hard and hot, the heat teasing you, the weight of it as he took it in his hand and let it fall back against your glistening wet thighs, tormenting you because all you wanted then was for him to use it. To ruin you with it. Fill you up and fuck you until your sleepy little body could take no more.

His whiskers tickled your back as he nuzzled into you from behind, trailing his fingers over your thighs as he pushed your legs apart and adjusted you. You whimpered and gasped at his every movement, your senses heightened and over stimulated by his touch. His warm wet trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, his cock rubbing between your folds, collecting the slick of your cum, his fingers flicking your swollen clit. Everything he did took you a little closer to the edge and even though you'd barely caught your breath from your first orgasm, you could already feel the tension in your abdomen as he built you up to another.

And then finally you felt the warm relief, the ache in your core finally satisfied as he pushed his cock into you slowly from behind. You were so sensitive that you were convinced you could feel every detail of his erection brushing up against your walls, stretching you out. Your pulse and his pulse racing together as he let out a low sleepy groan, one laced with desire.

He held himself there for a moment, pushing his hips against your bottom, burying himself as deep into you as he could. He held you still too so that although you were desperate to push back against him, to writhe against him and revel in that delightful friction, you couldn't. All you could do was give into him, let him do as he wanted with you, let him hold you there, your cunt clenching and relaxing around his throbbing cock.

Every now and then he flexed it inside you and you couldn't help the needy whimpers which escaped you. Couldn't help the little tears in your eyes. He was driving you to despair because it felt so good but it wasn't enough. You needed more of him, you needed the push and pull. And again you almost started begging, almost said Please, Alfie, please... But instead you whimpered, let out another trembling little moan and let him slip his fingers into your mouth, sucking on them to silence yourself as he used his other hand to carry on playing with you.

He groaned when, as he pinched your clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it between them mercilessly, you moaned over his fingers and your cunt clenched and squeezed his erection. Your whole body flinching, still trembling and shaking. He could feel your heartbeat in his chest, his racing in time with yours as finally he began to thrust in and out of you. He took it slow, he wanted to go gently, wanted to fuck you slowly and draw your shared ecstacy out for as long as he could.

He held you so tightly against him, digging his hips into you from behind as he pushed deeper inside you. His tip brushing your gspot with every thrust he made, the returning pleasure rolling over you like waves. It was heavenly and you could feel the tightening of another high winding inside you like a coil as Alfie rubbed his calloused fingers over your clit, the roughness of his touch against your swollen bud bringing you that burning pleasure, hot and almost unbearable.

You had that feeling like you could cry, like you just felt so good that that was all you could do, you could feel it building inside you like a sob that needed to escape but instead of crying your second orgasm drew only the sweetest tumble of moans and soft cries from you as Alfie overwhelmed you with kisses and pushed his fingers a little deeper inside your mouth, moaning into your ear as you trembled on his cock.

You'd never understand just how gorgeous you looked, how heavenly you appeared to him when you were all blissed out like that, delirious with pleasure. Your eyes closed, your chest glistening with a pretty sheen of sweat. Your whole body quivering, jumping and starting at every kiss he pressed to your skin, every flick and swirl of his fingers around your clit.

It was a sight he almost felt he was being robbed of, having you facing the wall and not him so he pulled out, chuckling at the pretty little whimper of dissapointment you let out when you felt his cock leave you, dragged out of you so suddenly.

But he was only turning you around, rolling you over so that your face was burried in his chest, the hair on his body tickling your cheeks as he wrapped his arms around you and held your head cradled in his hand.

He didn't need to tell you what to do and no sooner had he lifted you up to his eye level, one hand squeezing your bottom, holding you firmly in place, had you wrapped your legs around him. And it was easy for his cock to find your hole then, it was like a magnetism drawing you into one another, his tip rubbing over your folds, pushing between them gently as you ground against one another needily.

You looked up at him with your sleepy blissed out ayes, your lips catching his chin first and then his lips. And just as your lips conected he pushed himself all the way into you, burying his cock into you and catching you by surprise so that your mouth opened onto his, your moan vibrating against his tongue as he pushed between your lips and kissed you hungrily.

You felt so close to him then, so dependent, so in love. You felt like this was the only place you ever wanted or needed to be. Balanced on his cock, clinging onto him for life, your face buried in the crook of his neck as he fucked you slow and tender.

He kissed your hair, holding you tight and keeping you tucked up beneath his chin. His legs tangled with yours as he thrust into you at a dreamy lethargic pace and you closed your eyes nuzzling into him. Breathing in his scent, his familiar musk mixed with the salty smell of your sex.

With every thrust those relentless pleasure waves kept rolling through you, your head dizzy from your numerous highs. You screaped your teeth over his skin, nipping and kissing his shoulder as you tried to control yourself. You could feel yourself on the brink of letting go completely and you knew that this time, when you came once more, you wouldn't be able to keep any shred of composure. You'd let it all out the way he loved you to and then you'd collapse completely overwhelmed by him. Unable to let go, the two of you holding onto one another for dear life.

You could tell he was getting close now, his pace speeding up just a little, his breathing growing heavier, hotter against you as he burried his face in your neck and used his hands beneath your bottom to shift you up closer to him. Even the sensation of his skin on your skin was enough to send sparks shooting all over your body and when he groaned in your ear, you bit down on his shoulder and moaned low and sweet into his neck. The pressure building up inside you too only to come washing over you in slow, glowing waves seconds later when you felt his cock swell inside you before letting out a stream of thick, warm cum. You felt him filling you up, felt his cum seep deep inside of you as he carried on fucking you slowly, fucking his cum deeper and deeper as his cock shot another jet into your cunt. You clenched around him, squeezing him tight as he moved inside you and the two of you began to slow down together, bringing one another out of your high slowly and gently.

But he didn't pull out. Instead he remained burried inside you, holding his cum and your cum inside you, occasionally twitching inside you or pushing up into you, his hips grinding against yours as you whimpered and sighed with contentment against him.

He held your face in the palm of his hand and brushed his thumb across your rosy cheek. You had that beautiful blissed out dizzy expression on your face. Your eyes sleepy and glazed as though he'd fucked every last thought from your brain. And you honestly believed that he had, because when he bowed his head and pressed a kiss to your forehead before letting out a yawn and pretending to stretch, saying "mmm, good morning zieskiet, sleep well? You look like youve a head full of very lovely little dreams..."

You couldn't reply, all you could do was look up at him with your hazy eyes, your lips still quivering, your voice shaking when you whispered a little good morning to him too.

AN/ I have a tallest now and you can add yourself here

[charliehoennam]

A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request made here. Happy reminder that requests are open!!

Summary: Alfie comes homes late at night and finds his pregnant wife sleeping on the couch and confesses his fear to his unborn child

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warning: sexual connotations towards the end, language, pregnancy themes

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Alfie was never one to be easily scared. He had a tough upbringing and, being the man of the house to his two older sisters, Rebecca and Debora, and their divorced mother, he had to grow up fast.

His father had left before Alfie was even born, leaving his son to become the only man of the house.

Sure, his mother was quite the mama bear herself. But there had always been resentment from Alfie towards his unacquainted father for leaving his mother to fend for her children on her own.

Alfie vowed that, if he ever became a father, he would support and help the mother of his child however he could, no matter how unconventional.

You felt like the luckiest woman in the world to be married to him. Alfie was nothing like most men. Most men would participate very little in these affairs, believing them to be limited only to women, but not Alfie. And if anyone dissed him for it, he'll tell those cowards to fuck right off because he wouldn't leave you alone in one of the most painful moments of your life.

It wasn't very common for you either. Part of you was so worried about just having him present for the birth. You worried he wouldn't want to go anywhere near you after it - obviously after you've healed - or have another child.

"Love, after the war I've seen, there is no amount of blood that can scare me away. Now, I won't pry if you don't want me to, of course. I'll respect whatever boundaries you have. But I would like to be there to hold your hand at the very least," he'd say.

He was hellbent on getting you all the best doctors and only the most experienced midwives to assist with pregnancy and the labor.

He didn't avoid making love to you because you were pregnant. It surprisingly turned him him on, made him certain about getting a baby back into you as soon as he could.

Every night, he came home to you with your favorite sweet and treated you to a warm bath together entitled to a foot rub and back rub just before bed.

Every afternoon, he'd meet you exactly at 3 when the weather wasn't too sunny or cold for a walk around the square or the block.

Every morning, once it became harder for you to bend over, he'd kneel down every time to get your heels on for you and compliment how beautiful you looked.

Regardless of the arguments you'd have, he was always consistent with his help. It didn't matter how he felt, he put his feelings aside as he reminded himself that they were nothing compared to the human growing in your body.

Your unborn child had reminded him of his sisters struggles during their terms. Crying over their husbands' affairs, neglected and alone, desperately wondering how they would raise the child. He was only a boy at the time, but he made sure to remember their names.

Once older and stronger, he tracked down all the men responsible for breaking his sisters' hearts and punished them with a beat-down they'd never forget. He considered offing them, but he figured the very least they could do is provide financial support. So, before they could even speak right or breathe through a healed nose, he put them into jobs his contacts proposed especially to him in order to keep a close on them.

That was simply Alfie's nature. Protective and vengeful.

Despite barely having to lift a finger for anything ever since Alfie hired an entire team to assist you, your body still felt exhausted and heavy from the weight of the growing baby in your belly.

You found yourself sat on the couch with Cyril snoring peacefully at your feet, warmed by the crackling fireplace before you.

You wanted to lie in your bed and rest your swollen feet in the comfortable warmth of your cotton linens, but Alfie still wasn't home. You worried when he got home late.

It took one look at the winding wooden stairs to convince you to swing your legs up on the couch, stretching them over the plush cushions.

Closing the heavy book in your hand, you tucked it snug between your side and the back of the couch for a quick shut-eye.

When Alfie arrived home, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He wasn't sure if you'd gone to bed, but he did know you had trouble sleeping without him. Your limited sleep positions were nothing as comfortable as snuggling up to his side.

Locking the door, he hung up his coat and hat. Just before he could make it to the first step of the stairs, he heard Cyril's snoring coming from the living room. That's when he noticed the light radiating from the fireplace, dancing against your skin as you slept soundly.

He stood in the door watching you for a moment, basking in the image of your sleeping frame. The warmth of the fireplace could not compete with of that which spread through his chest.

Alfie smiled to himself as he gazed upon you, his eyes admiring every crevice and hair on your face. The line of your nose, the eyelashes you'd bat at him, the shape of your lips and the faint curve of your smile lines. He loved knowing he'd been the main cause of those particularly.

But, as his gaze moved down to your protruding belly, he was reminded how close the day was. He wondered how the months flew by so fast.

He felt like he had so much time to prepare for fatherhood, but he felt just as hopeless as when you first told him about the baby.

Stepping into the living room, he walked over quietly to join Cyril on the floor in front of the couch.

He stared into the fireplace as cyril shifted to rest his head on Alfie's lap - his laziest greeting yet.

Alfie sat on one side, leaving his opposite leg bent to rest his arm over his knee. Your belly was just inches away.

Moving his gaze back your clothed bump, he sighed heavily.

"You know, I never met my father, right," he whispered to the unborn child. "I think it's wise you know that now, 'fore you come out. Didn't have one growing up, see? So I 'avent got the slightest idea of how to be one."

Lured from your nap by Alfie's voice, you slowly blinked your eyes open. Although Alfie's head of hair was all you saw, you realized he wasn't talking to you and he couldn't see you were awake.

Eavesdropping wasn't very polite, but you couldn't help yourself. You didn't want to stop him, but hearing him to the baby in you was quite heartwarming so you decided to let Alfie have a bonding moment of his own.

"Truth is you got me downright scared," he continued. "Even after months, I still am downright terrified and you ain't even 'ere yet... I know it's a lot to ask, yeah, especially since you're still in there, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the world. But I give you my word I'll try my best to be the best for you and your mum. I hope you can understand that even when you decide to hate me whenever I give you an earful. Though I doubt I can do it. Think your mum will have to sort you out," he mumbled with a playful smirk. "I'll try my best for you, yeah? I just hope it's enough."

Alife's smirk faded as she gazed at your belly. He felt pathetic, venting to an unborn child as if that would solve all his problems. Alfie hated admitted, and he would never admit it to anyone but you, but he was terrified of becoming a father.

You didn't blame him; you had your own fears as well, so you could understand why this precious and fragile life had him so frightened.

He still hadn't noticed you were awake or that you had heard his confession. Until you lifted a hand to stroke the hair on the back of his head.

" 'eard all that, did ya?"

He didn't exactly blush, but he did feel warmth racing around his face with embarrassment.

"You're going to be a great father, Alfie" you answered. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But as long as we're together and we have each other, we can get through anything."

"Yeah, I know, love," Alfie nodded and sighed. He hated talking about his emotions, even if it was to the only person he could trust blindly. "I just don't want to be a disappointment like my father, if you could even call 'im that much."

"You won't be, and I'll tell you why. You're nothing like him," you smiled, carding your fingers through his brown locks. "You're a good man, Alf. I know you do what you have to do out there, but what matters to me is the man you are in here. And in here, you're a good man. And I wouldn't want to be carrying anyone's child. I'm honored to be the mother of our babe."

"You really mean that?" he smiled trying to look over his shoulder at you, as far as his neck - and age - allowed.

"Every word. You're worried enough to ask your sisters and the midwives for help, Alf. Not many men care to even worry about that sorta thing."

"I'm not like most men," he smirked feeling a sense of pride. "How'd you know about that though?"

"Becca told me you been meeting her for tea every week for advice."

"I fucking knew it. I knew she'd blabber off to you," he chuckled shyly.

"It's nothing to ashamed of, love. I actually find your level of concern and willingness to help in whichever way extremely attractive," you smirked stroking the sensitive skin on his neck with your finger.

"Do you now?" He grinned mischievously knowing exactly where this was headed. One of the perks that came with your pregnancy, in the later stages of it, was the sharp peak of sexual desires.

There were no more worries about you getting pregnant - too late for that now - and seeing your belly swollen, with his child that he put inside you, only made him wish he could put more and more.

"I think I like where this is headed."

[solomons-finest-rum]

Saga!! You’re baaaack!! Lovely to see you around these parts again hun 😘 If you’re in the writing mood, can I interest you in a little gif of our favourite Camden based reprobate as inspiration? 😉 xxx

Thank you love! Good to be back (and make my favourite Camden gangster talk nonsense in my fics 🤭🤭🤭)

“Alfie…”

“That is still a ‘no’, luv, all right, and that is final.”

“Alfie Solomons, I am your wife!”

“Playin’ the wife card, are we, right, but two can play this game, sweetheart, yeah? Now, I ain’t one to play dirty, right, and don’t you roll those pretty eyes of yours at me, ‘cause I know what you’re about to say next and the answer’s still bloody ‘no’!”

“Alfie, I am begging you…!”

“Oh, now she’s beggin’, ain’t she, isn’t that a clever thing to do to your husband, right, makin’ ‘im feel all sorts of notions just to win the argument, right, now listen to me, Mrs. Solomons, you women are a clever little breed, right, entirely overlooked and undervalued, yeah, I realise that, luv, an’ I can see that ‘cause you yourself are exceptionally clever, my love, so much so that you went an’ married a clever man, right, a trait that doesn’t apply too often to my kind… There she goes and rolls her eyes again, bloody hell, come back here, woman!”

“No!”

“Come back here at once, ya vexin’ creature, an’ no stompin’ on the bloody stairs, you’ll wake the dogs!”

“Don’t bring the dogs into this!”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own fuckin’ house that I paid for!”

“You, Alfie Solomons, are unbelievable!”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment and you know it!”

“Hush now, luv, let’s not argue, right, ‘cause I can take no more of this–”

“Alfie!”

“Right, an’ I can be the bigger person here, darlin’, and to say I love an’ cherish you more than life itself would be an understatement–”

“Unbelievable!”

“So I forgive ya.”

“Go to hell!”

“How many times must I tell ya I already got the ticket done and paid for?!”

“I swear on my brothers, Alfie, I will join you there, because I’ll bloody go and murder my own husband if his nonsense continues!”

“Right! Fuck! Now that right there is just fuckin’ brilliant, right, ‘cause your lovin’ brother is what started the whole fuckin’ thing!”

“Alfie Solomons, you put on a clean shirt right this instance and accompany me to my brother’s wedding or I swear to God, I’ll gut ya with a butter knife!”

“John bloody Shelby gets married at least every other October, what fuckin’ difference does it make if I come or not?!”

“You take that back!”

“Why should I fuckin’ take it back, right, if it’s true?!”

“A butter knife, Alfie Solomons, I swear to God!”

“Naaah, but do ya promise, dearest?! ‘Cause it’s a lovely set your Tommy got us for our anniversary, shame if it fuckin’ goes to waste…! What are ya laughin’ about now?”

“Nothin’… Oh God, Alfie, I bloody love you, you know that?”

“That a trick or somethin’…?”

“No! I just… God, Tommy always said I took after Polly, I just never knew how much… This is bloody ridiculous.”

“Right, you… Right, stop laughin’, woman, you’re bloody ridiculous, stand still… Now your lipstick’s all over the– an’ what was that for?”

“I love you, Alfie Solomons.”

“Right, now, I love ya too, alright, even though you Shelbys are all equally fuckin’ crazy...”

“You knew what you married into.”

“That I bloody did.”

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Angel of Birmingham ~ Alfie Solomons x Reader

Summary: Before he meets Tommy Shelby, Alfie gets the pleasant surprise of encountering the lovely Angel of Britain, and from then on, he swears to always protect her from all the dangers of the world.

If she were to ask herself who was the first to call her that - That undeserving nickname - She’d have to guess it might have been Arthur. He always had a way with words without realizing, and it all happened when they were children... More or less, considering she is closer to John’s age than his, and she would patch him up after fights and whatever marks of ‘good behaviour’ he got from playing around.

Seeing how great she was at taking care of him and his brothers, Aunt Polly suggested she tries to become a nurse or something. She saw potential in the little girl. Intelligent, charming, beautiful and pretty damn innocent. She shouldn’t stay too close to their dark side, it may taint her, and neither of the Shelbies wanted to see her upset. She was too much of a ray of sunshine and they desperately clinged to her and her kindness.

In the bleak midwinter.

But the girl was also highly ambitious and she didn’t want to settle with being a simple nurse - No, she wanted more. More and more and more. She was smart, she was greedy and she was a conqueror.

Veni. Vidi. Vici.

Until they received a beating sister with death and they suddenly opened their eyes towards the Godly truth in front of them.

She was going to become the only surgeon in Birmingham and she will succeed without a doubt, despite her young age.

The Shelbies already had connections with some important people so it was easier to deal with uncooperative people who dismissed her for being a woman and didn’t even look at her amazing knowledge and skills.

For a while, she had to be away and work in the London’s hospital as she studied medicine, despite her very young age. She hated being alone from her family and her second family, as she always called the Shelbies, but despite her timid personality, she still made some pretty good friends, albeit with the nurses, as most of the girls didn’t have the right connections and the money to bribe their way so high-up the medical field.

For now, that is. Y/N wanted to change the world. She aimed high and jumped higher. With the right money and influence, things will change. She was sure about that.

It was all going splendid for her, until the First World War began and her three Shelby brothers were enrolled - She was desperate to keep them home, but she knew she couldn’t.

So the next best thing was to go with them.

She was a doctor and they needed war doctors to take care of the wounded, so of course, she was accepted without a second thought.

She had to go to Verdun and to Somme, and she had to see so many people being brutally taken away from life - Bombs, gunshots, wails of anguish and despair, fear, cries, agony and shivers.

If Y/N could describe war with a single word, it would be simply ‘Hell’. 

There was no better word to describe it, without a doubt, and an angel in hell always gets her wings burnt horrifically painfully.

She prayed day and night for her three brothers to be alive and well by the end of all this, at least physically, since mentally, she knows neither of them will be the same, that’s for sure.

And this hell went on for four agonizing years that went by, day after day, at an alarmingly lethargic pace, as if time and space were enclosed into a continuous loop of no return, a dark void from which they will never return.

But they did.

And when they did, they were welcomed with hugs and kisses and lots of love from their families...

Yet they reciprocated with a dead look in their eyes.

They died in War, and this was just a second attempt at living, like a dead man roaming the world again.

The worst that happened was Tommy getting shot during his tunneling, but Y/N made sure he would be treated properly, and yet, there was one thing she couldn’t do, no matter how perfect her healing skills were, and that is to erase their mental and emotional pain and all the nightmares and PTSD they had to suffer from.

She tried to stay strong for them, to smile and be radiant as before, to try to take away some of their unseen pain, to talk to them, to sooth them... God knows they needed it. 

She would crawl in Tommy’s bed at forsaken hours and hold him tightly whenever he’d wake up screaming in fear, afraid that the shovels will breach through the walls and he’d get shot again, and she’d talk to him, reassure him and tell him he’s not there anymore and nothing will get to him again, she will protect him from any danger, and her wings were there to shield him.

She would leap out and hug Arthur from behind, dragging him away from murdering or fatally beating more men who looked at him the wrong way, so he wouldn’t lose control of his mind and body again, and she will shoo everyone away while she holds him and lets him cry out his fear and stress and pain.

And John... Poor John... Ever after being home, he was still in a state of shock, and he was so confused, and would look down at his hands, trying to wash them so much that he got burns and irritation, only to get rid of the ocean of blood that he created by killing hundreds of men, and witnessing a thousand more.

And yet...

There was nobody there for her.

Nobody to hold her down whenever she wanted to lash out into hysterics and tear everyone apart limb from limb. There was nobody there to reassure her that she didn’t fail anyone for not managing to save the man split in ten pieces after falling prey to a bomb. That there was nothing wrong with taking lives as long as you protect your own. There was nobody to reassure her during a nightmare or embrace her protectively whenever she’d flinch, jump or panic from the louder noises or frequent gunshots all over Birmingham.

She needed a change. She was going further down and down, spiraling into the horrible abyss that the bottomless pits of anguish and torment she was succumbing to, and she knew that, no matter how much she’d smile and say ‘I’m alright’, she’d only drown deeper into her darkest despair.

And that’s how she chose to cope with all her pain. Work herself into exhaustion, study, practice, work, learn - Do anything but sleep or stay idle - As long as her mind was preoccupied with different things, there was no way she’d recognize her downwards descend into hell.

Thus, with continuous work, gunshot threatenings and more influence and bribes, she managed to become the Head of the Birmingham hospital, as the only capable surgeon in the city.

But now that she achieved this, she needed something new. She couldn’t fall into platitude, or she’d go insane. She constantly needed stimulation, because if she relaxes, even by a little, she will remember she is a human being with human emotions and that’s when shit will hit the fan hard, and she was afraid that was the point of no return.

So she extended her influence in London, went to conferences, met new people and ironically, the big hospital was close to The Angel and Camden Town and she became sort of an administrator - section chief around, so she could organize every patient and treatment the way she wanted. Everyone reported to her.

She was Britain’s Angel.

Things were going very well for her, she got a lot of money, people loved her, she was neutral with all the gangsters, mafia, police and every normal peasant or royalty - Healing did not discriminate against any social criteria made by the higher ups - And she had a very lovely, small house and a beautiful flower garden, a lovely maid who helped her keep things tidy, a decent car ( although she preferred walking ) and a few dogs to keep her company.

Another day, another struggle to keep on going. Y/N got up, drank her morning tea in peace while listening to the gramophone. She combed her long hair, letting it cascade down her back, completely disregarding the fashion of the Roaring ‘20s, and went to look at her wardrobe. She chose a black turtleneck thin blouse with high-waisted black pants, a pair of leather boots, some accessories and an elegant trench coat which she wore over her shoulders. It was Spring, so it wasn’t truly cold enough to dress warmly, but not hot enough to wear a sundress either.

The most peculiar thing happened while walking to the hospital - She heard a groan of pain from a dark alley and going to investigate, she saw a fair haired man whose white shirt was stained with red.

“Is it yours?” the woman asked him as she carefully stepped in front of him, completely disregarding the two dead bodies from the ground.

“Some o’ it. Most o’ it is theirs, poor fellas.” he tilted his head to the side left and right, almost comically.

“Fairs. Let’s get you to the hospital, I’ll treat your wound. Free of charge, of course. Let the state pay for something for once.” she chuckled lightly, extending her hand for him to take - To accept her proposal.

“Who are you, Miss? I don’t recall ever seein’ you ‘round. A new nurse from the hospital?” he asked as he almost skeptically stepped by her side, following her.

“Oh, yes, of course, I’m sorry, I forgot my manners. I am Y/N... I’m sort of the head of the hospital nearby. And, uh... I’m a surgeon.” she grinned at him serenely, almost as if to defy and shock him by his previous assumptions.

“A woman doctor, aye? Now that... That’s top. How’d ya do that? I thought they didn’t accept women at University ‘n such.” despite his words, he seemed genuinely interested and wasn’t mocking her.

“Well... Yes, not wrong. And I want to change that. Hmm, how do I explain this without scaring you away... I’m a pretty smart cookie I guess!” her laugh was crystalline and lovely, and if weren’t for the pain from the bullet he took, he would have laughed as well rather mirthfully.

“That you are, lass, I’m sure.” he grunted as he nodded, a bit robotically.

“Ah, we’ve arrived. Before we go in, are you from a mafia gang or something? Some social... Political... Something? It’s not that I care, but I have to put people in different wings for their own good, you know?” she chuckled awkwardly, fidgeting with her fingers a bit.

“I’m not sure I understand, lass.” he raised his eyebrow, analyzing the soft-spoken woman, trying to understand her intentions, whether they were good or bad.

“Well... My hospital accept everyone, you know? But at the same time I don’t think most people want to be rooming with coppers. Or... I know there are some gang wars around... Italians and Jews I think, or something like that. To put some Sabinis and some from Solomons’ gang in the same room, I not only fear for their lives, but also for the good of the rest of the patients and my hospital, you get me? That’s why I at least have to ask. Who knows, maybe I have some of your peers around for you and you can chat and feel better together.” she shrugged at him, feeling a bit uncomfortable being stared like that by him.

“Alright, alright, I get it, lass. Let’s go to the Jews, right? Y’got some o’ those, don’t ya?” he asked, following her as he watched her smile and greet sweetly every person she was walking past.

“Oh yes, of course. Yesterday came a boy called Oliver... Oh, I mean Ollie. He gets upset when I call him by his full name. And there’s this one called David. They said they work for Alfie Solomons, so I put their occupations as bakers. Would you like me to do the same for you as well?” she asked as she hurried inside the room and asked where he would like to stay, and thus preparing the bed.

“Ye even got flowers ‘round ‘ere. This looks more like a home than a hospital if y’ask me.” he chuckled softly as he let himself fall down on the bed, taking off his shoes.

“Oh, yes! Studies show that if patients feel welcomed and are well taken care of, they have higher chances of recovering at a much faster pace. I wanted to test this theory, so I made a contract with the flower shop down town to always bring me flowers. Isn’t that lovely?” she smiled sweetly at him, which rendered the man speechless and in awe.

“Boss, what happened?!” suddenly, Ollie’s worried voice resounded through the room as he leapt from his bed, by the mysterious man’s side.

“Just some dead fish, don’t you worry, lad.” he downplayed his injury as the woman watched the wholesome exchange between those two.

“Oliver - Uh... Ollie, I mean, forgive me. I have to extract the bullet from Mr. Solomons’ body. I will have to ask you to please not worry, I promise to save him, okay?” why was this woman so sweet with everyone? Was that how a doctor should be? Or was she just some exemplary woman?

“...Alright, miss...” the boy muttered, dejected as he watched the woman leave the room, no doubt to get the right equipment for the extraction.

“Honestly, lad, you worry like some maiden. Let the girl do ‘er job.” the Jewish boss chuckled reassuringly at the tall brunet boy.

“She’s no girl, Mr. Solomons. She’s Britain’s Angel. Haven’t you heard o’ her?” Ollie went to sit on the boss’s bed, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“That’s ‘er? Really?” Alfie’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quite understood now why she earned the reputation.

“Aye! She grew up with the Peaky Blinders and their influence and bribes got her into University, but she’s like super smart! I ‘eard they call her Angel or somethin’, especially after her services in the War. Can you believe that?! A woman voluntarily enrolling into war?! That’s insane, who’d want a free ticket to hell?!” Ollie’s voice became a bit higher as he gossiped with his boss.

“Someone who wants to protect her family.” a feminine chuckle broke the conversation as the two Jews snapped their heads towards the entrance, seeing her casually leaning back on the wall, looking at them with an amused expression, mock-reprimanding. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to gossip?”

“Sorry, lass. This one has quite the chatter mouth to him! ‘e just can’t seem to ever shut it!” his over the top gesticulation, among with Ollie’s shocked expression made the girl hide her mouth to laugh as she shook her head and pushed the tray with the needed instruments to Alfie’s bed.

“True. If he didn’t call you Boss, I wouldn’t have known who you were, Mr. Solomons. Now, I would have to ask you to let me unbutton your shirt so I can begin the procedure. It won’t last long, and with the local anaesthesia, you won’t even feel a thing... For the most part, at least.” she chuckled awkwardly as she sat down on his bed, smiling calmly at him.

“Nah, lass, no fancy ana-thingy, I want none o' that. Ain’t gonna get some drugs to put me down. I’ve been through this before in war, right, and ya didn’t have anaesthesia in war either, so that’s that.” as he said those things, he immediately noticed the smile disappearing from her face as a dark look flashed before her eyes that used to sparkle with fake happiness.

“It’s local anaesthesia, it won’t make you sleep. Besides, I used cocaine in war. It still works. Don’t be like that, Alfie. Please.” she seemed to almost desperately want to use that numbing solution for some reason.

“Why do you insist on going against your patient’s wishes, miss doctor?” he challenged her, narrowing her eyes, as if he was trying to peer into her mind.

“I can’t stand people’s raw cries. You heard Ollie. I’ve been to war, but a part of me never returned home. If I can do something to absolve the pain from someone, I’m gonna do it, whether they like it or not.” her dark voice seemed to make a complete 180 from the sweet one from earlier.

“Do you do the same with coppers too, lass?” his light question, as he unbuttoned his shirt, came as a begrudged agreement to her proposition.

“Nah. I just hit them over the head with a bottle of alcohol. Works every time.” her devious, vague smirk made him wonder whether what she was saying was true or not.

“Now that -- I really wanna see that, right. Would’ya call me next time you gotta do that?” Alfie chuckled as he attentively watched her gently wipe the blood from his skin.

“It’s usually a spontaneous decision, really. I get impulsive too, sometimes, you know? I’m not perfect. But, should the time come, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have an audience that would be pleasantly surprised by my act of aggression.” she smiled softly as she carefully administrated the novocain around the area where he got the bullet.

“So where’d ya serve?” he asked, as the girl encouraged him to talk and get his mind away from the procedure.

“Somme and Verdun. I asked to be deployed as close as possible to the Shelbies... I’m sure you got that by what Ollie just told you. Y’know, the tunnels Tommy dug and all that? Wasn’t fun. And you, Alfie? ... Ah, actually, forgive me, I shouldn’t address you so casually without asking for your permission, I got ahead of myself. You can call me by my first name too. I prefer it that way, kinda. It’s more casual and light-hearted.” she chuckled awkwardly - Alfie realized she wasn’t the best at social interactions. He wondered if this was just how she was, or it was a post-war effect.

“No, s’all right, ya can call me Alfie, no problem. I was a Captain in war, right, I was a Captain and I led tons of lads to their death, yeah, but we killed more than we got killed, so that’s that, I guess. Meddled with gas’n’bombs’n shit like that.” Despite trying to keep things light hearted, he noticed the upset look on her face.

“As long as you’re alive, anything is justified.” She muttered, more to herself than to him as she started poking the area under anaesthesia to see if it got numbed down properly.

“Oi, lass, how about I tell you a story, aye? ‘S pretty funny, I reckon.” He suggested, seeing as she smiled softly and nodded at him, putting on her gloves, ready to extract the bullet old-school.

“Sure, Alfie, I’d love that.” She gave him a quick look as he fingers dug inside his wound, making him flinch.

“So, this happened during war, right. My regiment had some nasty Italians around, and they pissed me off so fucking much, yeah. Well, I tell ya, I once carried my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian.” He used one of his hands to gesticulate wildly, as if to keep her engaged in the story whilst he grunted from the discomfort and pain he felt as she rummaged inside his wound.

“Ohh, the Italians. This is going to be a very good story, I’m sure. What did you do?” her smile widened slightly as she felt the bullet shards and started extracting them one by one, putting them on a napkin until they all formed a complete bullet.

“Listen, Y/N. Listen, right. I pulled his face up against the train and shoved a 6 inch nail up his fucking nose and I hammered it on with a duct board, aye.” As he told his story, Y/N had to turn around and slouch a bit, unable to contain her laughter.

“Oh my God, Alfie, that was horrible!” but despite the words used, she just laughter harder.

“It was fucking biblical, lass, I tell ya!” his voice went a bit higher, as he started chuckling as well.

“Okay, okay, say that again, but this time slower. I-I want to imagine – To, to get a better image of this in my head. “ no matter how much she tried to hide her laugh, she couldn’t, which only fueled his wish to amuse her.

“So, this fucking margherita bastard came to me and started throwing around those cross fingered hands back and forth like he wanted th’ gouge my eyes out o’ somethin’. Just! Like! this!” Alfie started aggressively mimicking the Italian hand gestures as the girl had to put down the needle and thread from shaking so much.

“G-Go on!” she encouraged him quickly.

“Yeah, so, listen, I grabbed him by the fucking head, yeah, and I saw this bigass nail, like this big, and shoved it up his nose, y’know, like the fuckin’ Egyptians hooked the brain out through the nose, right, with the mummies and shit.” He had no idea why, but he really enjoyed making her laugh like this.

“I think I’m getting a nose bleed just by imagining this!” she covered her face entirely as she swung left and right from laughing so hard.

“He’s leaning back on the train now, yeah, and he’s hazy like he’s fuckin’ high on pepperoni or some shit, and I see this board just layin’ there on th’ ground, innocently, begging to be used somehow. So I pick it up nicely, yeah, I pick it up and SLAM it into his face. Once. Twice. Thrice. More. Dunno how many times, until I can’t see the nail anymore… But I guess, by then, he didn’t really have much of a face anymore, kinda just became a jam pancake or somethin’.” The girl needed a few minutes of laughter to calm down and wipe her eyes from laughing so hard.

“Oh, Alfie, I haven’t laughed so hard in my entire life. That was wonderful. I-I have no words. I can’t… I can’t… Okay, I’m good now, I’m good. But don’t say more stories, I won’t be able to sew up your wound if I laugh like that again.” She grinned at him, grabbing the needle and thread.

“Fine, lass, fine, I won’t say more stories today. How about you say one, then?” the Jew leader smirked at her with amusement.

“O-Oh, uhm… I-I’m not exactly the funniest person in the world, you know. Actually, I’m not even sure I know what to say. I’m a horrible conversation maker.” She chuckled nervously, as she continued to make knots and stitch the wound.

“Doesn’t matter, anything works, really! I just wanna hear an angel speak.” Mr. Solomons was truly an amiable one.

“Well, alright then, let me think. So, I think you’ve heard already of the Peaky Blinders and how there are quite a few Shelby siblings, yes? Well, they used to have a baby cousin, before he was taken away by some nasty coppers and put in foster care. I was also pretty young back then, but I remember Arthur used to throw baby Michael out of the window repeatedly for either John or me to catch. Mind you, it wasn’t the ground floor.” She chuckled lightly, remembering the stupid kid things they used to do before the war, when life was so simple.

“Really, now?! Poor lad, must’ve grown up with some serious height fear!” Alfie barked a laugh.

“That’s one thing. John put him in a shoe box and kicked him down Watery Lane. Sometimes when cars were passing by too. It was insane, really, growing up with them. But it was fun. If you ignore the copious amount of times we got in trouble and almost died.”  She mused, finishing the procedure and applying some marigold ointment before bandaging the wound properly.

“Thanks, lass, that was quite the experience. Well, I’ll be off then, I won’t bother you anymore, yeah.” He said, trying to get up, only to quickly get pushed down on the bed.

“No! You need to rest and get better, as well as that, you can’t do effort or brusk movements or you risk breaking the stitches.” She explained as he saw worry in her eyes.

“Let’s compromise, alright lass? I’m these guys’ leader, yeah, I’m the leader, so I can’t stay here, I ‘ave to go home’n all that. But I promise you I’ll take it easy and only do office work, yeah, that good? And to thank ya, I’ll even call you by the bakery, how’s that? Nice and warm fresh cookies? How’s that sound?” he asked, as he saw the girl clasp her hands together to her chest.

“Well… Alright then, I can’t really refuse you. But please do be careful. At least let me walk you home or something, I don’t think anyone will attack you if I’m around.”  She muttered, still worried.

“Oi, lass, I am the gentleman here, right, I am, so I should offer to walk you home, not the other way around, aye. Let me walk ya home and tomorrow I’ll come by with cookies.” as he got up, he was ready to button up his messy shirt, but the girl stopped him.

“Alright, Alfie, you win. Let me find you a new shirt, I’m sure we have some around. Before I leave, I have to check up on one of Sabini’s men. It will be pretty short, but I still have to make sure he’s alive and kicking.” The girl offered him a smile as she rushed out to find him a new blouse.

Much to his surprise, she returned rather quickly, even dressed in her normal attire, as when she first came by, and they were ready to leave that wing. However, as soon as they exited the room, the girl was pinned to the wall by none other than Mr. Sabini himself. Alfie was ready to react and throw him off her, but a stopping signal from her did the trick, albeit, he was still confused.

“Mr. Sabini. How many times must I remind you not to greet me in this inappropriate way? I lost count after twenty.” she smiled sarcastically at him as she roughly pushed him off.

“I simply cannot help myself around una fiore cosi bello! You have to understand me, mio angelo, it is your fault for being so beautiful. And how many times have I told you to call me my by name, bella?” The sleazy Italian smirked perverted at her.

“It is inappropriate to display such behaviour with your patients, as well as that, I do not feel comfortable addressing you in any way but the formal one. I will also have to ask you, again, not to use compliments with me, I will not, under any circumstance, accept your courting proposal. Not to mention, you and your men have your own ward at a completely different floor, so I will have to politely ask you to please stop bothering my other patients who have the same rights of being treated as you do.” Her voice was so cold and venomous, as a sword’s edge cutting deep into flesh. Alfie was shocked to see the angelic woman capable of such a demeanour, considering how sweet and shy she was previously when she was laughing so much that she started tearing up.

“But Y/N, amore mio, mio Tesoro, I can give your lovely hospital monthly charity cheques, to fund it, bring you only the latest technology in pharmaceutical and medical stuff! I can buy you anything you want, only say so, and I will bring it to you! I will –“ he continued boasting about his money until he got quickly cut off by the girl.

“Enough. I don’t need your money, Mr. Sabini, I have my own. Not only that, I will also really want to ask you to stop bothering me already. I have to remind you, you have been harassing me for quite a long time now, and I have all the right in the world to choose the patients I’m admitting, considering this is now MY hospital, and if you don’t stop your desperate cry for attention, I will completely eliminate the Sabini ward and divulge all your secrets to the other mafia gangs. And don’t you dare pull out your stupid gun and threaten me, I’m not afraid of you or of death. I already died in war, now I’m just living a second chance. Good bye, Mr. Sabini.” And with that, Y/N turned on her heels, motioning for Alfie and Ollie to follow her as the click of her shoes echoing through the corridors emanated the angry aura around her.

“So you’ve got the same kind o’ personal vendetta against those stupid Italians too, aye?” Alfie chuckled, hoping to lighten up the mood for her.

“Yep. That story from before – I’d do it with Sabini without thinking twice. Or I’ll have you do it, I don’t think I even have the physical strength to pick up a duct board. I have noodle arms.” She let out an amused breath as the Jew looked at her with a smile.

“Ya bet I’ll help ya.” And thus, they arrived in front of her house, being greeted, as usual, by her barking dogs who jumped on her from happiness.

“So… Tomorrow, yes? When should I be expecting you?” she asked, trying to pacify her excited puppies.

“Maybe ‘round noon?” and thus, the agreement stood and the girl waved at him sweetly as she went inside the house, followed by her furry babies. “Y’know what, Ollie? This one is a woman that comes once every thousand years. I dunno how Thomas Shelby could let go of her, but he can’t be as smart as he thinks he is.” Alfie chuckled, nodding to his right hand man to begin walking.

The next day, as expected, Y/N woke up early to make sure nothing is out of place everywhere in the house. Maybe it was her weirdly acting up over-perfectionism, but she couldn’t stand still if something wasn’t where it should have been.

After all, she hasn’t had visitors in… Well, never. It was always her who would visit the Shelby family, but other than that, she would meet up with friends in pubs and clubs, not at home.

Before she knew it, noon arrived and the sound of barking announced Alfie’s arrival. As she opened the house’s door, she noticed he was on the ground, getting loved by all the dogs.

Shocker.

“They say dogs can always tell a good person from a bad one. You passed their test, well done.” She gave him an amused side-smile, leaning on the door frame.

“Anyone who has so many dogs is trustworthy in my books.” He cackled as he got up, walking towards the girl, holding the basket up so the four-legged beasts won’t steal it away.

“I taught them horribly bad. They eat at the table with me, I cook for them more than I cook for myself. And now, look at them, those rascals, they will do anything for food as if they’re famished! Spoiled brats, I’m telling you!” she smiled as she removed the flower vase from the table and poured some tea, aromatic and very nicely smelling.

He admired the tea pot and the matching cups – They were a soft, light blue with painted pink flowers. – Very cute, he thought, and very fitting to her own sweetness. He’s seen so many women affected by the bitterness and anger of having to be unheard, submissive and mistreated, in this ugly, monochrome, wet Britain, so meeting Y/N was like a breath of fresh air, completely different, not afraid of being as sweet and kind as she wants, without implicating herself in any trouble or business and just doing her own stuff.

“Tea, lass? I haven’t had tea in ages, yeah.” He chuckled as he carefully put the plate of still steaming cookies along with some challah bread.

“…Oh. I forgot most people prefer alcohol. Oh My God, I’m so sorry, I don’t have any kind of alcohol in the house-“ she freaked out a bit, only to be stopped by Alfie’s chuckle.

“I’m a tea guy too, lass, don’t worry so much over silly things like that, right? Tea’s fine too. What’s it got?” he asked, easing her worries quickly.

“Vanilla, cinnamon, cherries and a bit too much honey. I like sweet things.” She smiled at him as she raised the tea cup and clinked it to his. “Cheers.”

“Sweet things like you, little lady, love things just as sweet, yeah? Cheers! It’s quite nice, aye, not bad, not bad at all, I think I’ll want more.” He blinked in surprise as he saw the girl immediately get up and pour more tea into his cup.

“Woaw, Alfie, you’ve made these? I’ve never eaten chocolate chip cookies before! They’re amazing! And this bread… It’s so soft and it tastes like honey! If you ever wanted to stop your underground business, you could definitely make a fortune opening up your own bakery! Imagine this… Alfie Solomons, the sweetest man in all Britain, loved by every citizen, earns a Royal Warrant from the Queen for baking the best cookies in the world!” Y/N praised the man as she ate what seemed to be the 4th or 5th cookie by now.

“Bah! Who cares ‘bout that old hag with a crown on her head? If the right person likes it, it’s all that matter, right, nothing else matters to me, and you already like my baking, so that’s that, yeah, that’s just that!” Alfie laughed, making the girl in front of him make a cute kitty smile and look down, her cheeks becoming just a tiny bit rosy.

“Alfie, now you’re just being too nice with me. You don’t have to do that just because I treated you.” She chuckled softly, surprising the man.

“You think I’m being nice to you because o’ that? That’s silly of you, lass, yeah, very silly, that’s not the case in the least, that’s just who I am!” he protested vehemently, his golden chain bracelet clinking softly with each movement.

“So you just like me? Just like that?” her eyes widened in shock.

“Why’re you looking so surprised, lass?” his voice became gradually much calmer and sweeter, seeing the genuine emotions from her.

“Oh, I just… I haven’t heard that in quite a while, I guess that’s why. Apart from the doctor work I do, and all the people thanking me for saving them, I don’t have much social interaction, so someone saying they like me for  my personality, as Y/N, not Britain’s Angel who saved them, is… You know… Unexpected.” She admitted, smiling shyly at him.

“How would you like to hear another story?” it’s true that he wanted to see her so bashful in front of him, but he also loved hearing her laugh, so why not give it a try with one more of his famous stories.

“Oh, I’d love that! You have the best stories, Alfie!” she immediately cheered up, putting her elbows on the table and resting her chin on her hands oh so cutely.

“Now, now, don’t flatter me, lass, it’ll go to my head, yeah, I’ll get used to you cute words.”  He leaned back on the chair, getting a better look at her.

“That just means I’ll have to say them more often.” Oh, how cheeky, Alfie thought as he grinned at her.

“Right, perfect plan! So, there you go! Tommy Shelby came by recently – Just a few days ago, right – And he, he started being a cheeky bastard with me, so I wanted to teach him a lesson. Got the gun out, cocked it in his face. I said – Look, let’s say I just shot you already, right, in the fucking face, and the bullet goes bone, mush, bone, cabinet over there.” Alfie made a finger gun with one of his hands, pointing it at the smiling girl, and then pointed behind her, where a pretty landscape painting was hanging.

“Oh, Tommy in London? I’m surprised he didn’t tell me anything about coming here, or at least visiting me. What a shame. I’m not surprised by his behaviour though, he’s become a bit of a jerk after the war.” She nodded in acknowledgement, smiling at him to continue.

“Right, it’s a shame, it really is, because that cabinet is fucked. I gotta get rid of it. So, what I do is this, I said. It’s fucking simple, mate.” And thus, he intertwined his fingers together on the table, playfully putting on the intimidating look of his.

“You burn it to splinters?” she tilted her head serenely like a cute puppy.

“Nah, even better. I cut that cabinet in half, don’t I? I do, I’ll just cut the cabinet, I cut… I cut the cabinet literally in half, mate, I said, and threw him a rag to wipe that bleeding nose of his. He was looking at me like a fucking dead body, lass, beaten up and bruised, by Sabini’s men, but still got the cheek to play coy with me on my turf!” Alfie told her the truth, knowing she’d want to know about her old friend.

“Tommy got beaten up by Sabini? What in the world did he do…? That boy never knows when to stop, does he. Anyway, so you cut the cabinet in half. Now what do you do? Throw it in the ocean?” she asked, quickly forgetting about the Shelby boy.

“No! I take half of that cabinet and I put it into a barrel, and take the other half of the cabinet, and all its pieces, and I put that into another barrel.” His hands shifted between left and right to show off imaginary barrels.

“And you fill them up with gun powder and make them explode in your enemy’s factory?” she grinned excitedly at him.

“Gosh, lass, no! But now I hate that you have more imagination than me! But listen – This barrel – I send this barrel off to… Mandalay.” He flapped his left hand around dismissively, making the girl bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. “And the other barrel off to somewhere like… I don’t know…” and he looked deep into Y/N’s eyes, unblinking and trying to come up with a funny city name, as she smiled with expectation for the punchline. “Timbuktu! You ever been?” the line was successfully delivered as the girl had to hang her head down and hide her face in her hands as she burst into laughter.

“Mandalay? Timbuktu? Where the hell are those?” she asked, unable to control herself.

“Fuck if I know, lass, but that’s the best of it! And y’know what? Know what, lass? I saw Tommy Shelby, right? Yeah, I saw him. All gloomy and dark and stuff. But I always thought he’d have a great, big, fucking gold ring in his nose!” Alfie joked around, and the girl was almost afraid she’d faint from laughing so hard.

“Oh, Alfie, you are the funniest man alive. So what did he say, how did he react to that?!” she urged him to continue.

“Nothin’! Nothin’ at all! He was silent as a fucking lake, lass! That Shelby boy has got no funny bone in his fucking body! Can’t even make a joke with him! Shoulda learnt from you, your company is a delight.” He saw Y/N quickly nod in agreement.

“Yeah, that’s right, Tommy has no sense of humour at all! He hasn’t smiled or laughed since the war. He’s changed completely. I know he’s been through a lot, you know? Everyone has. He still has that kind heart, and all he does, he does for his family… But it wouldn’t hurt him to be more genuine with them, or accept the fact that he’s not the only hurt one who can’t get over the war. I mean – I mean John, he’s my age! Got married, has like 4 kids already, married again and he’s still a brat as always! And you, Alfie! You said you were a captain, but you are the greatest person I ever met! He has no excuse for being a jerk. If he had a nose ring, like the bulls have, you could’ve just gotten a hook and tied him to a car and had him paraded around the streets of Camden Town!” she giggled in amusement, roasting her old friend shamelessly.

“Y’know lass, I think you’re as much of a fairy as I am, aye. You look all angelic and pure, but you have a wicked sense of humour!” the girl couldn’t help but let out a mock gasp of hurt and offense.

“Me? Wicked? Never! My, Alfie, you hurt me - How ever in this world could you possibly call me the Devil, when I’m known as Birmingham’s Angel? Recently, Britain’s Angel?” she laughed, almost as though she was making fun of her own nicknames.

“I think I’d much rather hear you being Alfie’s Angel.” Y/N’s smile froze, and her cheeks warmed up instantly, her gaze looking down at the tiny crumbles left behind from the tasty cookies. “Wha’chu say, lass?”

“I... Think I would like that very much, Alfie.” she could barely contain her timid smile.

“Wonderful news, lass!” Alfie merrily got to his feet. “Well then, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, pretty Angel. Don’t forget to serve your little companions their dinner at the table, a’ight?” he bent down slightly to plant a small kiss on her cheek, a little ticklish from his bear, before nodding his head at her, a cheeky smile on his face, and he left, not without all the dogs desperately seeking affection from him.

“Alfie’s Angel, huh? Doesn’t sound half-bad.” Y/N giggles softly to herself, only to hear her maid coming out of nowhere and cheering for her for landing such a good man, though not without warning her not to get into trouble with the very many gangs and their wars. She was a sweet girl, Y/N thought - Perhaps Ollie would like to date a lovely lady like herself.

Many days and weeks, and even months passed, and Alfie visited Miss Y/N daily, never skipping a single day, or missing to bring her the prettiest flowers, and the freshest cookies and bread. He was going to spoil her rotten, that one, and he loved every bit of it, especially the shy look she always had on her face, and the hesitation of accepting so many gifts - He just loved pampering her, what could he do? It was in his nature after all.

And Y/N absolutely loved whenever he’d come over, and each day, with a new story to tell, and new jokes and rumours and gossips - He was an absolute delight, and her dogs loved him perhaps a little bit more than they loved her, at this point. It was no wonder, after all - Alfie started baking food for them! And Y/N thought she spoiled them! 

For once, Y/N stopped feeling the terrifyingly heavy pressure of anguish and torment weighting down on her very soul and being. She didn’t feel the need to work her mind into exhaustion, not tire out her body to the point of fainting asleep. She didn’t need to do any of those anymore, to feel alive and human. She only needed to look at those beautiful eyes of his, and those kissable lips, always forming a mirthful smile; to feel vitality returning into her body, and any sense of fear and anxiety escaping her very being. She remembered what it was like to have a sense of care and possessiveness over her own life, and finally, after so long, she wanted to be free - As free as it could get, unbound by any rule and regulation - To just have fun and thrive in the bliss of romance and happiness.

Once Alfie heard that, he kissed her sweet lips for the first time, admitting to wanting to retreat from the mafia life, and retreat to a calmer area where no one would be searching for him. Margate. A small cottage, cozy and warm, by the sea, where nobody would care to scold them for shooting those noisy seagulls, and Cyril and her dogs could run around aimlessly and run day in and day out, while they spend their time reading and baking and all the cutesy things that couples in love are supposed to do.

Before that, however, a few more things had to happen - Retirement wasn’t an easy process, after all, not in this business, and shrouding yourself into the veil of the unknown was even more difficult a task. People wanted their vengeance, after all, and they’d stop at nothing to achieve it. Nothing, including threatening the beautiful, benevolent Angel who was supposed to have neutral immunity from all kinds of parties. That is what she thought. That is what everyone thought. It was the catalyst of Alfie’s decision to speed up his retirement process and get this done and dealt with already. He never felt as angry as he was now.

It came during a time when Tommy rang Y/N asking for a favour, though rather uncomfortable. Alfie didn’t agree with this at all, he warned Y/N it would be dangerous - Deals with Italians were unpredictable, those bastards, and Sabini was a lecherous fuck who wanted to steal her away - But how could Y/N deny doing a favour to the man who helped her reach such heights though his influence? The man she went to war to protect? The man she took a bullet for? Her brother from another mother?

“Y/N, lass, you’re going to get fried to death if you approach that pasta fucker. I can’t just let you go.” Alfie grumbled worriedly. “And it ain’t just Sabini I’m worried about, love, it’s Changretta too. ‘course, all the fucking pizza fuckers came ‘round to screw things over, but Sabini keeps saying he ain’t working with that other fucker.” he paced nervously around the room, to and fro, fro and to. “Y/N, listen - Listen, a’ight? LIsten. It’s not Sabini I’m worried about, y’know? We’ve been at each other’s throats since school, it ain’t flash news, right -- I can deal with ‘im somehow -- But the other one? I know shit about ‘im. Came over from fucking America, and now he thinks he owns the whole fucking world, that one. And y’know what, hun? ‘e can fuckin’ have it, for all I care. Let Tommy Shelby fight with him. But you --- I’ll be fucking damned before I let him take you away from me.”

“Alfie, sweety, look at me.” Y/N got up from the bed, and approached the frantic man. She cupped his face and brought him into a tender kiss. “There’s no force on earth that can keep me apart from you. Besides! The hospital, remember? Even if Changretta comes over, I will just tell him of the deals, and the treatment and... He won’t hurt me.” without even realising, Alfie’s arms were wrapped around her smaller form, holding her close to his chest, pouting like a clingy child. “Alfie~! Come on, don’t tickle me with your beard! I promise I’ll give you attention all the after this is over, okay? But family is family, and I promised to help out. It won’t take long. And... It’s supposed to be some private party, right? A party with lots of people. He can’t just threaten me in front of everyone, right?”

“I don’t like risky things like this, Y/N. Can’t blame a man in love for worryin’.” He muttered against the skin of her neck. “But better tell Tommy I’m not gonna let him send you do his errands for him anymore, a’ight?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell him.” she couldn’t help her sweet, uncontrollable giggling, all because of him playfully running that trickly yet well kept beard of his over her soft skin.

Just as promised, Y/N dressed in a very pretty dress, making her look like an innocent, sweet flower blooming in Spring, overshadowing all around her with her beauty, thought there was no Tommy Shelby there waiting to escort her at the party. She didn’t think much about it though - She hadn’t a watch at her, so she couldn’t tell whether she was fashionably late or not, and he just went on ahead to do some of his work dealings with his gang friends. It was none of Y/N’s business, she was just supposed to be there as a peacemaker, a mediator, considering she was neutral with all, thanks to her position as the head of the hospital.

She grabbed herself a glass of champagne from a waiter and waited by the sidelines, watching the party unfold, with gorgeous dancers and the orchestra playing songs of all kinds. When a slowed song began, she awkwardly played the wallflower, not wanting to gain any attention to her, but of course, her not so favourite Italian came by, gallantly asking for a dance. Of course, she couldn’t refuse, more or less because she was a diplomat, and despite all the harassment from the past, all of them taking care in the hospital, at a party, it was all fine. Still, she hoped Alfie could have been there - It would have been more bearable.

“A gorgeous lady like yourself shouldn’t be all alone at a party.” Sabini said, making Y/N give a polite smile.

“Well, I was sure Tommy would be busy talking business with you, Mr. Sabini. I’m surprised you’re here, with me.” the man rose a quizzical eyebrow, hearing that.

“My dear, Thomas Shelby never once spoke to me today. In fact, I was not aware he was here at all.” Y/N’s body froze, and their dance stopped.

“What do you mean?” she asked in a whispery voice. “Tommy said he needed me here, as a mediator between the Peaky Blinders and the other gangs of London. If he’s not here -- Why would he ask me to be here?”

“Ah, bella, bella, bella, so your naivite and innocence only makes you more endearing.” he gave a smug smirk. “Luca Changretta asked your dear Tommy, to have a... Pleasant conversation. Negating deals. Business talks... Men talks. Signorina Y/N, he sent you over to receive a message, as he feared for his life, but counted on our long lasting friendship.” his chuckle sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly, she felt terrified for her life.

“I... Don’t want to get involved in your business matters. I don’t do business. I just heal people, that’s all. I wanted to do Tommy a favour, as he is my brother, but I want to have a peaceful life, away from all the gang wars. Please, let me go home, Mr. Sabini. If you want me to send Tommy a message, I will, but I won’t get involved any further than this.” the Italian nodded his head, an almost nasty smirk on his face. 

“By all means, no one wants to hurt you, Signorina. It would be terribly rude of us to kill the messenger... Though Signor Changretta’s father was ruthlessly killed, in front of his wife, for no reason, by your brothers. But us, bella - We, Italians, care for our family above all, and Signor Changretta admires your devotion to your own. He is going to love meeting you.” Y/N slowly removed her hands from the man’s shoulders and offered a small smile, trying to keep her composure. But she was terrified to the core, almost as much as she had been during the war. Not only did Tommy betray her, but he threw her in a pit of vipers... Like a weaponless gladiator, forced to fight a hundred starving lions in the Colosseum. She was a healer, not a fighter! Damn it, Tommy!

“It was a lovely evening, Mr. Sabini. I will be taking my leave now.” with a certain elegant swiftness, Y/N was able to slip past Sabini and hide her presence in the sea of people, trying to make her way to the exit of the grand mansion, only to bump into another man, much taller than Sabini was, and he was towering over her, a passive smile on his face. It was much clear now, the whole place was filled only with Italians. She was trapped.

“Signora, what kind of man was vile enough to make a woman cry? Tell me, please, I will not have such disrespect in my family.” his accent was heavy, and his aura was dangerous, with a mysterious darkness. The stranger rose a hand to cup her cheek and rose her face to wipe the wet, gleaming under eye of the woman.

“Uh... Forgive me, Mr... I didn’t mean to bump into you and disturb you. I... I am not a very sociable person, I don’t do well with crowds. I... Was hoping to return home.” she offered an uncomfortable smile. This man was trouble.

“Don’t worry, bella, I will make sure to discipline my men better.” he nodded, chewing on what looked like a toothpick... Or a match? Was that a match? “You will have to forgive them. Anyway, may I escort you outside and call for a car for you?” something made her feel as though she hadn’t any choice in the matter.

“Y-Yes, please.” she nodded meekly, her voice barely audible from all the noise of the party.

With his arm around her waist, the stranger gentlemanly escorted the lady outside of the mansion, and outside, into the darkness barely illuminated by the lights from inside the house. Were it not for the loud music and all the chattering from the mansion, the graveyard silence would have been entirely ominous, save for the soft cricket and toad melody.

They were all alone.

“Do you wish to kill me, Mr. Changretta?” Y/N asked, frightened out of her mind.

“Kill you? Oh, Signora, no, no, why in the world would I wish to harm an beautiful lady like yourself?” he let out a sardonic chuckle. “Sabini tells me they call you the Angel of Britain. May I call you... Angelica?” Y/N didn’t answer. “Have I frightened you so, bella? Mi dispiace, it wasn’t my intention.” though, based on the sarcastic slur of his words, he was having his fun tormenting her.

“Mr. Sabini said you wished me to deliver Tommy a message. What is it?” the woman asked, holding her hands together tightly.

“Ah, yes, of course. Very brave of Mr. Shelby, sending his dear sister to do his dirty work. How shameful. You see, bella, we never put our ladies in danger. Sabini especially says he’s taken a liking to you for quite some good years. I can see perfectly well why. I’ve never seen a woman beautiful and intelligent such as yourself.” Luca’s hand found itself caressing her face, his long fingers reaching up to her hair, strong her long velvety hair. “I love how you defy this decade’s fashion, though you manage to look more elegant than most.” he kept complimenting her.

“Mr. Changretta, please... I am already dating a man, and we are soon going to move in together. I would appreciate it dearly if you would not continue your courting, though I am very flattered that one like yourself would find me attractive.” the man looked up at the sky, a dry smile on his face, watching how the lady tried to step backwards every time he inched forwards, only to end up with her back flush against a tree.

“Somehow, I don’t quite believe that. You are far too terrified from the simplest gesture. Admit it, Signora, you’ve never been with a man before, have you?” his smirk only widened watching her face burning with a sweet blush. “You needn’t say any word, your body betrays you.” he chuckled, getting uncomfortably close to her. “I hate making ladies cry. My mamma taught me better than this. She taught me to respect and cherish women, for they are a treasure - And I agree. I will not hard you, Signora Y/N. But perhaps you need to be reminded of the importance you play in this gang war... And maybe even remind your dear brother, as he seems to have forgotten about you and how much you worth. Would he react at all, if I were to laugh in his face and tell him I’ve claimed you? Will he even get angry, if I tell him I killed you? Thomas Shelby finds himself to be rather the undefeatable businessman and politician, but from our latest interaction, I say, he’s a man as much as any other, and he has easily exploitable weaknesses. It is really too bad you had to get caught in the middle of all this. I bear you no ill will, Angelica.” he leaned his face closer and closer to her own, to the point of feeling his warm breath on her skin - She tried to move away, though he fixed her head, cupping her cheeks forcefully. He truly just wanted to steal a little kiss, nothing more! He wanted to get a taste of her pink, plump lips that looked like the softest rose petals, bathing in shiny morning dew.

Instead, the loud, resounding sound of a gunshot made the man close his eyes in anger, whilst Y/N squeaked in fear, trying to fall to the ground and defend herself; an awful habit she couldn’t break even after the war was over. Luca used the woman as a shield, one hand buried in her hair, the other, holding a pistol to her temple.

From the paved street the soft sound of a cane was heard, as Alfie Solomons appeared, looking all dressed for a party. He looked alone. Was it him who shot, or was it another? Surely, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to come by all alone, even if it was to rescue Y/N - And if he did, it only meant her worth was a hundred times more than he expected. Was he the man she mentioned just previously?

“Ah, Mr. Solomons, what an unexpected surprise. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. I’m Luca Changretta.” the Italian smirked, chewing on that match, approaching his face to touch his cheek to Y/N’s. 

“Oh, yeah, I know who you are. You are a bit of a failure, aren’t you? You come all the way over here, to this country, yeah, in order to kill Tommy Shelby - But, I mean, well - He’s not dead, is he?” Alfie smiled fakely at the Italian, forcing himself not to look at the whimpering look of his beloved.

“He would have been, were he not saved by Angelica over here. But he cowarded out, didn’t he? Can’t even have a conversation with someone who hides behind his sister’s skirts.” Changretta sneered mockingly.

“That’s it. I’ll tell you what, right? I didn’t want to come ‘ere, in your home, without a gift, yeah? It woulda been rude - And Jews are known for their hospitality, of course. Here - It’s free. A souvenir.” Alfie rose a single bottle of his rum, showing he was unarmed. “Now, why don’t you let go of that lady over there, and we say our goodbyes?”

Changretta smirked darkly at him. “Signora, why don’t you take the bottle and have a sip? Rum is sweet, for women. Men prefer dry, strong gin.” with trembling hands, Y/N extended her arms to get the bottle from Alfie. It was almost excruciatingly painful, being so close to his protective arms, yet so very far away... “Go on, Angelica, take a sip.” Alfie frowned, watching Y/N’s face contort slightly - She didn’t drink alcohol, she hated it. Even if rum was sweeter than most alcohols, it still wasn’t anywhere close to her sweet teas with too much honey in them.

“This clown wants me to run his shit rum into New York.” Changretta let out a dry laugh, insulting the Jew in Italian.

“Damn fucking straight, mate, otherwise you wouldn’t still be thieving my oxygen and patience, would you? Because I have 200 barrels a month, yeah, cleared by your people, distributed through your teamsters.” Alfie continued with the straight business deal.

“Didn’t you just hear me? People want gin these days.” Luca repeated.

“I heard you wanted to come over with a proposition for me. I hate waiting, yeah - So, that’s why I came over, to quicken things up a bit, before they get stale, right. I already know what you want. I just want to hear you say it out loud so I can check how ridiculous it is.” Alfie inched closer to the two, not once breaking his overly dramatic mannerism.

“Ah, bella, what will I do, I am losing my patience with him.” Luca shook his head in disdain, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Based on the twitch of his enemy’s eye, he had hurried over with a half-baked plan. No doubt, Thomas Shelby must have gone over to him to search for an ally in him. To come in the enemy’s den for a woman - Alfie Solomons was a suicidal maniac. “There is gonna be a little fight, a boxing match, between your boy and Tommy Shelby’s boy, and the whole Shelby family is gonna be there.” Alfie hummed, already knowing all this. “And you, Mr. Solomons, you too will be there.” Luca started stroking a lock of Y/N’s hair, intentionally taunting the Jew. “You know, they say you’re a smart guy. You already know what we want before we say it. That’s funny because I believe I know what you want even before you say it. Yeah. You want the girl back, that’s why you’re here. Maybe for the barrels too. But the girl... Yes, I get why you’d want her back. Can’t miss out on claiming a treasure like her.” he pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering and going down, towards her ear, whispering a small threat and softly slipping the sleeve of her dress a little down her shoulder with the barrel of his gun, revealing flawless skin, before leaning down her neck, and to her bare shoulder. Y/N tried to struggle away from him, whimpering from the uncomfortable fear she was feeling, and how violated she felt by the Italian, but the tight grip on her hair only brought out a whimper of pain and disgust from her.

If someone could look deep into Alfie’s eyes, they could see a wrathful fire raging inside his soul. He wanted to make pasta sauce from that fucker for daring touch his sweet lady and making tormenting her so. He had to play his cards well, feign ignorance and uncare, otherwise, he was afraid that wop will be taking Y/N as a bargaining chip and blackmail him, to the point that not even Tommy Shelby playing God would be able to save the sweet lady. “I want some cash too. Don’t worry, ‘cause I’ve broken it down here.” from the pocket of his coat, he took out a neatly folded paper. “A list of costs pertaining to the assassination of a dear friend, all right?” from his other pocket, he took out his glasses, putting them on as he read the terms and conditions to their deal. “Now, a normal dispatch, well, it’s, you know, 500 pounds cost, but you’re going to have to have to add another 100 to that because Tommy Shelby, like me, is from an oppressed people... And... I need you to put another tonne on top of that because his brother is a fucking animal and he will come after me.” Alfie kept reading, frowning every so often at the inconveniences he was listing. “And then you will need to put another 100 on top of that, because, well, you’re a fucking wop, mate, hmmm?” Changretta remained speechless, looking at the mess of a Jew who found himself hilarious, messing with him. “And then... We have to deal with the ugly business of which I’ve been incredibly clear of, before I’ll need another 500 pounds, because, like I stated, Tommy Shelby is a very, very good friend of mine.” though he wished to wring his neck for throwing Y/N in danger like that. “And... Another 500 pounds for threatening my wife. And 500 more pounds for making her cry.” Alfie folded back the paper, handing it to his enemy. “Total is down there, in black and white. All right? Crack on.”

“Mr. Solomons, I’m gonna be very fucking clear with you. I don’t need you to kill anybody. I have people that I trust, okay? So you are gonna take my boys and you are gonna bring them to the ring as seconds.” Alfie frowned at the Italian.

“Well, in order to qualify as my seconds, right, they would first have to qualify as being Jewish, yeah? And in order to do that, they would have to replace their natural Italian fucking arrogance with a Jewish air of absolute certainty. You see, my good friend, Tommy Shelby, he will know the difference.” he warned the unbothered Italian don.

“You see, these days, back in the old country, a lot of the, uh.... You know, the Jewish people, they, uh... They are having to pass themselves off as Italian.” Changretta chuckled menacingly. 

“All right, well, you’ll have to add another ton onto your bill - For being a cunt, mate.” Alfie refuted with a chilling calm. “All right?”

Luca looked away briefly. “You will bring my men to Birmingham?”

Alfie nodded his head, hoping his crazy humour was acting as reassurance for his lady. “You will circumcise them?” Luca was mute. “Yeah, you will have to circumcise them. Because the Peakys will check, yeah?”

“If they’re going to have their pretty doctor check, surely, she wouldn’t quite know the difference, would she?” the Italian jabbed at the Jew, who was imagining different ways of torturing this fucker.

“Don’t bother your little wop brain over what my wife does. She won’t be there.”  Luca smirked, knowing very well his uppercut landed perfectly.

“Okay. Any other requests?” he asked, laxing his grip on her hair. “Two hundred fucking barrels, we have a deal.” Alfie frowned, looking at him with disinterest. “What’s the matter? I said we have a deal.”

“Eh, you just made a deal without a negotiation, didn’t you?” Alfie stared him down. Luca affirmed that statement. “Yeah, Tommy Shelby was right about you, wasn’t he?” then, for the first time, Y/N heard the man speak in his own, native language. “You plan to kill us all.” though she didn’t quite understand what he said, the look in his eyes was enough to give her a good guess. Still, with the deal in place, Luca Changretta smirked in triumph, and with one last gesture of condescence, he forced Y/N into a deep kiss, before pushing her towards the Jew. “Sogni d’oro, mia bella Angelica.”

Alfie instinctively lunged forward, catching and gathering his lady into a tight embrace and watching carefully as Changretta stepped inside the mansion. He could feel Y/N’s soft trembles of her small body as she cried in soft whimpers - She was trying desperately to stay composed, but after everything she’d gone through, he couldn’t blame her. That margherita fucker must have creeped her to hell and back. “It’s okay, darling, cry as much as you need. I’m here, love, I’m here, okay? Alfie’s here, and I’m not gonna let go of you again.” she felt so warm, so safe in his large arms. “Let’s go home, yeah? No more of this gang shit. I’ve done over my plans, and we’re leaving faster. I’m not gonna let any of this fuckers even look at you ever again.” he massaged and stroked the back of her head, where that jerk hurt her, and he kissed her forehead and her cheeks and even her nose, before guiding her to the car, with Ollie driving them to the comfort of her own home, with her many dogs, and a shit ton of guards all around.

Y/N couldn’t say anything, and when they got home, Alfie had her maid draw her a warm bath so she could relax. He made sure to put a nice vinyl on the gramophone, and had Ollie return to their house to bring the emergency cookies for comfort, whilst he continued to internally curse Thomas.

He wasn’t sure how long she calmed down in the bath, with her maid comforting and chatting with her to get her mind off of the anguish she was put through, but when she returned, she was wearing one of her beautiful silk nightgown that barely went down to her knees, and she let herself plop on the bed, cuddling into his arms like a kitten seeking warmth. “How did you know?” her soft voice asked as he pulled them to lay down, stroking her hair and her face dearly, occasionally planting kisses and calling her sweet things. When Ollie finally came back with the cookies, her maid had brewed the sweetest tea in existence for them.

“Well, I always did pride myself with having good intuition, you know, but when Tommy came by my bakery, I realised - Shit, my sweet lady’s in trouble.” Alfie spoke, watching her cringe softly at the mention of the Shelby. “Asked him what the hell he was doin’ over at my place, instead of being there with you, and he said - Who would hurt you? Sabini wouldn’t, surely. There’s no person with more immunity than you, right?” he mimicked the man. “Thought I was gonna lose my mind, hun, hearing that. I was this close to beating him to death, yeah, nobody dares touch my sweet girl after all. He said some things about those fucking greasy wops, and it got me thinking - I already knew things were going to shit, and very fast, right, and I knew I had to make our exit as swift as possible - But when I heard you were all alone, with a bunch of sleazy fucks, my mind went crazy.” he gesticulated dramatically, before pinching her cheek playfully. “I promised Tommy Shelby a beating at some point, and I managed to land one good punch on him before coming to my darling’s rescue. Glad I got there just in time, but fuck, I’m so pissed - So fucking pissed you had to go through all that. I should’ve never let you go. Should’ve trusted my gut.” he grumbled, clearly angry at himself.

“Alfie.” she had an upset, pouting look on her face. “I’m sorry I let him kiss me. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him off.” she hung her head in shame. “If you hadn’t come when you did... I fear what he’d have done.”

“Y/N, lass, what the hell are you apologising for?!” he exclaimed, his hands immediately going to raise her face gently to look at him. “As if a weaponless woman could fight a grown ass man with a gun. If anything, I should be the one to apologise for not being fucking able to protect you as a man should. I thought playing the wife card, and the extra billing, would get that cheapskate fucker let go of you already. Fucking cunt. He’ll pay, I’ll make sure of that.”

But Y/N frantically shook her head. “I don’t care about that, Alfie. I don’t want revenge, and I don’t care what happens to any gangs, okay? I’m sorry, Alfie, I’m sorry I- I’m selfish, okay? I don’t want to do this anymore. I just - I can’t. I really can’t, you know? Always in the middle of danger, always in the middle of war -- I just want to go live out a happy, peaceful life, with you, and our dogs, and a shit load of seagulls to shoot whenever they wake us up with that annoying screech of theirs. And then -- Then, I wanna go have a good travel, maybe. Let’s -- Let’s go to the mountains, I heard it’s fun hiking. The forests are very pretty too. We can hide away from everyone, we’ve got enough money, don’t we - And if you wanted to, I told you, you can open up your own real bakery, and live perfectly comfortable with those earnings. Anything - Anything, just to get the hell out of this God-forsaken, war-riddled, decrepit, barren city, and away from this awful, exploiting people who care for nothing but their damn fucking business.” the way her eyes were gleaming with both hope and desperation shattered Alfie’s heart. “Can we do that, Alfie? Please, can we do that? Just the two of us -- Maybe Ollie and Annie too, if they wanna - And our dogs too - Just us, a nice, big family.”

Alfie’s very soul felt honeyed from her words of love, and her wish of staying together with him - And it was tempting too, taking Ollie and her maid with them, he had to admit. They would finally be living the god damn peaceful fucking life that they deserved. He had been dreaming during the day, and during the night, of a life spent together with her, all away from this shit city, away from the shit gang wars and what nots. He was exhausted, he wanted to let his guard down for once, and he knew he could do that with Y/N. He wanted to provide her a beautiful, comfortable life, a peaceful once - She’s never been to the beach, and he really wanted to show Margate to her. Just them, and the sound of the ocean waves breaking against the shore, walking barefoot into the wet sand and playing in the water.

Perhaps it was a little close for comfort to both France and London too - Maybe some day, they could go further north, further away from the capital. Perhaps they can even change their names, take on new identities, retire completely. Sure, he’ll still be taking care of his Jewish community, but he would stop the mafia dealings - Let the younger generations get themselves in trouble a hundred thousand times per minute, he was completely done for.

“Yeah, my little cookie, we can do that, and we’ll fucking do it, and very soon, yeah? Very soon, I promise you that. I’ll keep you safe, and comfortable, and happy. First, in Margate, and if we get bored, wherever the hell we want, a’ight? With Ollie and Annie if they wanna join, and with our spoiled dogs, ‘course.” he leaned in, capturing her lips into a sweet kiss.

“Alfie?” she called his name, her cheeks flustering lightly, unable to meet his eyes, despite the beautiful smile on her face.

“Yeah, meyn ketsele?” Y/N always blushed so hard whenever he’d call her his little kitten.

“Is the... Erhm... Wifey spot still open? I’d like to apply.” Alfie couldn’t help but start laughing mirthfully at her bashfulness, only to pull her into a loving embrace, peppering her face with kisses all over.

“Ikh hob dikh shtark lib - I’d love nothing more than to be your husband.” Y/N felt faint from all the suffocating love and affection she was receiving all at once, but she couldn’t help but melt to the sound of Alfie speaking in his native language, saying that he loves her so much, that she was the love of his life and what more. It was almost funny, how quickly he became smitten beyond repair for her, but he simply couldn’t help it. Women like her only came about once every thousands of years, and he was just so happy, just by seeing that shy smile of hers, or waking up to her in his arms. How could he ever let her go? 

Y/N wasn’t Birmingham’s Angel anymore, and like hell was she Britain’s Angel. She wasn’t an angel, she was a little wicked fairy, the sweetest lady there was, and any other overdosing sugary sweet and entirely embarrassing term of love that Alfie could ultimately generate from the top of his head, just to see her adorable blush, but by hell, he was feeling trapped and addicted to her magic, and he was never going to let go of his darling honey bunch lady.

And Alfie was going to make her the happiest woman alive, and their wedding was gonna be fucking biblical.

[dyns33]

Family honor

So Alfie x Y/N Shelby wife will be a little series now

There were several differences between a Gypsy wedding and a Jewish wedding.

The most obvious being that gypsy marriage was not recognized by anyone except gypsies.

But if it wasn't celebrated, you could walk past a priest, a rabbi, an imam or the fucking King himself, to live for years with the same person, under the same roof, with children, that would not have the slightest importance for the gypsies.

Alfie Solomons muttered several times that none of this was kosher, but he respected all the rites and traditions of Y/N's family. Even drinking alcohol, he who hated having a foggy mind.

"Already quite foggy the rest of the time, love. But if your savages of brothers insist…"

“The savages insist.” John said, giving him a whole bottle of whiskey.

“I can’t believe this asshole is going to become one of us.”

"Oh, Arthur, I'm touched that you accept me so quickly into your heart."

It took several people besides Tommy and Y/N to stop them from killing each other, when they were completely drunk.

Then they insisted on walking together in the horse field, the older Shelby brother ending up giving his blessing before falling asleep under a tree, making it clear that he would slit Alfie's throat if he did not treat his beloved little sister correctly.

The wandering jew left him to return with the others, who were dancing and singing. A perfect wedding, completely normal.

If he was offended when Y/N told him that the Jewish marriage was practically the same, he didn't show it, just made a strange sound with his nose.

There may have been less alcohol, and it was legally recognized, but the rest was a gathering of a lot of loud people, not speaking English, jumping around and congratulating them on their union.

Y/N, however, quickly noticed the biggest difference between gypsy marriage and Jewish marriage.

Although they had been a little surprised and worried by her choice of husband, her family had decided to give a chance to Alfie Solomons, whom they judged solely because of his actions. The rest didn't matter in the slightest.

With the Camden community, it wasn’t so simple.

“Your lovely wife is going to convert ?” an old woman asked, although it sounded more like an order than a question.

"Ah, frau Aldermann. It is true that I am such a pious man myself, it is a very important subject that my wife and I have talked about a lot. Isn't that right, treacle ?"

“Good, good.” sighed a man, patting his shoulder, not seeming to understand Alfie's sarcasm. "This is very important, especially for such an admired member. Perhaps your mother was of Jewish parentage ?"

She could have replied that she had not really known her mother, and therefore even less her family, but her husband saved her from this discussion, which he considered ridiculous, by inviting her to dance.

A true act of love, for him who hated dancing, in addition to suffering terribly because of his back.

It didn't take long for her entire family tree to be dissected in every way. The old harpies of Camden were like all the harpies of London.

The fact that she couldn't answer their question was almost a good thing. This mystery made it possible to say that if we could not verify that she was Jewish through her mother, we could not verify that she was not either. And everything always went through the mother.

The deplorable past of her father and the Shelby family could then have been forgotten.

The problem was mainly that her mother was not Mr. Arthur Shelby Sr. wife, which made Y/N a bastard. A gypsy bastard at that.

Even when she didn't understand the language, she guessed that people were talking about her. These looks and these laughter, she knew them well. Her brothers had suffered them when they were younger, before they used their fists to silence the ignorant and conquer Birmingham.

But she wasn't in Birmingham. Her brothers were not there, and it was her husband's kingdom.

Alfie wasn't the last to comment on gypsies.

"You know, I expected to have to sleep in a caravan for our honeymoon. It would have been terrible for my back, I don't know if Thomas took pity on us or if his petty posh side is to be thanked."

“They had a tent for us, but Finn threw up in it.”

"Fuck off, love. You're kidding me !"

“Then we would have danced naked around a fire asking the moon to give us happiness, health and above all a lot of fucking money.”

"… Yeah, you're totally kidding me, you little rascal." Alfie said, mock irritated, pulling her in for a kiss.

He didn't seem to notice that every little word spoken against her family and their traditions was beginning to weigh on her.

At least it was never completely mean when it was him. Almost innocent, full of prejudice and stupidity, but not crossing certain limits.

The rest of the community was not so kind. Many had not appreciated that the King of Camden, such a prized party, war hero, respected gangster, charming man, ended up with a girl like her. It must have been business, blackmail, or black magic.

There was no other possible explanation.

For several months, she decided to be the reasonable adult, remaining calm and polite, taking the blows as best she could. Tommy had taught her how to do it.

He had also taught her the pride of gypsies. Honor.

So there came a day when she was walking through the bakery, and some of the employees made a little joke about stealing and fortune telling, laughing like the idiots they were.

Normally, she would have ignored him. But Y/N was exhausted, and Polly's voice repeated in her head that no Shelby would ever allow themselves to be treated like this, so before they had time to react, she grabbed the hair of one of them, placing a knife to his throat.

"Tell me another joke about gypsies. Then I'll tell you a joke about Jews. Then I'll kill you."

The boy squealed, calling to his colleagues for help with his big, frightening eyes, but no one dared to move. Because they knew she would go faster. And even if she wasn't moving fast enough, she was Tommy Shelby's sister and Alfie Solomons' wife. Literally untouchable.

"Come on." she whispered in his ear. "Make me laugh. No ? No more jokes ? You're going to play the victim. It's funny, people who complain about being mistreated, then do exactly the same thing to others while thinking they're superior. You're all the same."

She didn't comment on the puddle under his legs, nor the little cry of panic when she released him.

Everyone stood still, watching her leave, and when she met Ollie's gaze, she knew she had just made a mistake. She only proved that she was indeed the savage they all described, the bad person.

Alfie probably wouldn't be happy when his right hand man told him what happened.

He did indeed seem to be in a terrible mood when she found him waiting for her in the living room, sunk into the sofa, indicating that his back was hurting badly, but that he would refuse to talk about it.

"Come, love, have a sit. Come on, sit down here."

Not wanting to act like a child, she remained silent as she took a seat in the chair he indicated to her.

This was obviously not what he expected, because he didn't speak either, staring at her intensely, hands crossed, displaying a small pout.

“Do you want to tell me what happened at the bakery today ?”

“Why ask if you already know ?”

“I would like your version.”

"I threatened to slit the throat of one of your workers and disrupted production. Do you want to spank me ?"

"Tempting. Why did you want to slit his throat ?"

“Unimportant.”

"Unimportant, uh ? Unimportant, love ? Because Ollie came to tell me that some guys were talking bad about me wife."

Groaning slightly, Alfie stood up just enough to push a piece of paper and pencil in her direction onto the table between them.

"Names."

“Alfie…”

"I want the names, treacle. I've already gone around the bakery telling everyone that insulting me wife and her family was insulting me, and I don't like being insulted. Names."

“You always make fun of gypsies.”

"Wrong." he retorted, holding up a finger as if that proved his point. "I do it when your brothers are around, because Thomas can be a little prick, and it's hilarious to see Arthur react like a mad dog. But I have nothing against gypsies. Lovely people. The proof, look at you. And look at me. The two most wonderful creatures our communities could spawn, right ?"

Despite all her strength, Y/N couldn't help but smile, which seemed to please her husband. He then placed his victorious finger on the paper, insisting on names.

If she had shown mercy by not cutting, this would not be the case with the wandering jew, king of Camden Town.

No one insulted his wife. No one looked at his wife badly, no one criticized her, no one tried to take away from her, no one thought of her with bad thoughts.

“Not even you ?” Y/N asked with a mischievous smile.

"Not at all. Now you brought up spanking. You brought it up first, love, not me."

“My brothers would be furious to hear that you beat me.”

"Don't tempt me, I can spread false rumors all the way to Birmingham just for the thrill of them all running here, and finding us…"

“You’re the one who deserves a spanking.”

"Ungrateful wife. Threatening me, under my own roof, when my back is killing me and I have just condemned half the city for the love of her."

The Shelbys never knew about their sister's difficult first months in Camden. Tommy noticed that he seemed to be treated with a little more respect when he walked the streets, but neither Y/N nor Alfie talked about what had happened before this outpouring of acceptance from the community.

On the other hand, Arthur noticed marks on his little sister's neck, and he tried to strangle Alfie, even after realizing that it wasn't what he thought, because it wasn't really better for him.

And Solomons reminding him that he was his brother-in-law didn't help at all.

[look-at-the-soul]

Cia!!! Thank you so much for always providing inspiration via your gifs!! I hope you like this 🤭 it’s been on my mind for a while hile…

He should’ve paid attention

Tommy Shelby x reader (and Alfie Solomons)

Opening the door of his office, Tommy sighed loudly, it had been a long meeting and he had been worried his wife would storm in any minute, demanding him to stop whatever business he was planning to do.

Speaking of which, his wife was nowhere to be seen.

And that was the perfect reason to worry, because she was the one who knew these fucking people, he recognized a face or two, but to be honest he would never understand what was the purpose to throw a party like this for their daughter’s christening. In his opinion it should be something small but he had nothing to do with the planning of such event, so he really didn’t have a thing to say.

A maid almost spilled the drinks on a guest.

As he moved across the people, he gave Johnny Dogs a disapproving eye side look, catching him and a maid coming out from the coat closet, Arthur was rolling up his sleeves already, he just hoped his brother wouldn’t start a fight in that moment. Polly and Ada were chatting in a corner, sipping his expensive champagne.

And if Y/N wasn’t with them, then he didn’t know where else to look for her.

The group of people before him suddenly moved backwards, like making a human wall, revealing Y/N standing over there facing him, but looking directly at another man he first didn’t recognize because he had his back at him.

Time stopped when his wife placed her hand on the man’s arm and laughed freely, then he saw his baby girl squirming in that man’s arms and he felt his blood boiling, in a few long strides he reached his wife, finally seeing that man’s face… finding Alfie holding his daughter.

It took him a couple of seconds to process what was happening.

“Alfie what are you doing here?”

“Oh, hello mate, I was just telling your lovely wife she has a great taste, she added a home-like touch to this place, didn’t she?” Alfie looked up at the eye-catching chandelier above them, the place exuded luxury.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” This was a family gathering and Alfie certainly attracted a lot of attention.

“Well, darling… you know how I just couldn’t stay away from eating those biscuits while I was pregnant, so I asked Frances to track down the bakery that made them, and it turned out to be Alfie’s.” She wrapped her hand around his arm and gave him that look he knew so damn well, the one that said she was about to get things done her way. “So I thought how Mr. Solomons has been so helpful to your business and I decided to ask him and his wife Edna to be our Sophie’s Godfather and Godmother.”

Tommy stopped listening in that moment, he felt like he was underwater, words were said in slow motion and he wasn’t able to keep up.

He looked at his wife, waiting for the moment she would say she was only joking. But that didn’t happen.

The collar of his tuxedo seemed tighter suddenly.

From all of the people…

“Look at that face, I told you he wouldn’t agree.” Alfie shook his head while hitting him slightly on the shoulder with his cane.

“Well he told me to take care of everything.” Y/N defended her choice. “I asked him who did he want and he said…”

“Whoever you choose is right, but you forgot to mention your options love.” Tommy tried to remain calm, having Alfie as part of his closest circle wasn’t his cup of tea.

“He never listens to me.” Y/N explained to Alfie, brushing Tommy off.

“I know, I keep saying him the same thing.” Alfie agreed.

“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” He took his sleepy daughter from Alfie’s arms. “You probably should have mention this earlier, don’t you think?”

Y/N shuddered. “You barely pay any attention to anything I say anyways.”

Tommy tilted his head, feeling the veins in his temple pulsing.

“Why don’t you calm down mate?” Alfie proposed. “Have some air.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“What’s the big deal? You’re friends, Alfie is a great baker, he’s funny….” Y/N had a long list of tributes but she decided to keep it short judging by the look Tommy gave her.

Alfie took the child from his arms and gave the bundle to her mother, to then pat Tommy on the shoulder, keeping his voice down.

“Look mate, if anything happens to you, I’ll look after your child, hmm? Uncle Alfie to the rescue.”

Tommy groaned. The only worse thing that could happen to him apart from doing business with Alfie Solomons was having him as the Godfather of his daughter.

But it was too fucking late to try to do something now.

Next time his wife asked his opinion, he would pay attention…

****

Blurbs

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane

@raincoffeeandfandoms I tagged you Flor for Alfie 🤭

[loulouwrites]

CIRCUMSTANCE . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie solomons always swore he was not suited to be any woman's husband - but a terrible circumstance has him questioning that. warnings: pregnancy, angst, mention of abotion, unsafe abortion, swearing (obviously), unedited word count: 2.9k A/N: this is a prequel to home but it can be read as a standalone :)

The first day she had been sick, she assumed she was still hungover from her birthday the night before. She had celebrated with all of her friends, who had taken advantage of the bill being footed by her 'secret lover', ordering enough gin to make even the hardest drinker queasy the next day.

The second day she had been sick, a pit formed in her stomach, a small, but haunting, realisation creeping into her mind - but she tried not to ponder on it.

She continued her week as normal. She continued to go to work, getting up from her desk every few minutes to sneakily be sick in the alley outside. She would go home and smile through her queasiness, insisting to her mother that she was just wasn't too hungry lately.

When following week came around, and she was being sick every morning, and her menstrual cycle was over one month late, she had to acknowledge that seed of doubt in her mind - she was pregnant.

It was a terrible thing to discover. An unmarried woman, pregnant with a child that belonged to a man that most agreed was terrible, was not how she had envisioned her life would turn out. She had always imagined the moment she discovered she was with child would be a joyous experience - she would be married, living in a large house with a foyer and garden with roses - she wasn't getting any of that now. Not with Alfie Solomons' child growing inside of her.

She would be lying if she had never envisioned a nice life with the gangster. It was a silly thing to think about, and she only allowed to imagine it in the dark of night, when her thoughts were only her own. She would often wonder if he felt anything for her, or if she was just a convenience for him.

He had hired her as his secretary about one year ago, but they had known each other for longer. More women were entering the workforce and he thought it would be beneficial to have one in the 'bakery', claiming women had a better attention to detail than any of the men he worked with. It hadn't taken long for him to push her against his desk and lift up her skirt, and she had been more than happy to let him.

That's all it was, really. She had never seen him outside of work, she had never been to his house, nor had he been to hers, their little affair only existed in the small confines in his office, when everybody else had gone home, and she had been perfectly content with their arrangement.

But now, she was pregnant.

And he was going to fucking kill her.

Her mother breathed a sigh of disappointment as she leaned against the kitchen bench in the small, dull kitchen, watching her daughter with a look of disgust as she heaved into the kitchen sink. It had been over a week of her daughter skipping meals and trying to quietly throw up in the bathroom, and it did not take a genius to figure out what was going on - she had been through it herself, after all.

"I hope he's planning on marrying you," she said with her arms crossed against her chest.

"Excuse me?" Her daughter said through deep breaths, lifting her head from the sink to frown at her mother.

"I'm no fool, and neither are you, we both know what's going on here," the older woman walked to stand beside her daughter. "Who's the father?"

The younger woman froze.

Of course her mother knew.

She knew everything.

"I haven't told him yet."

"That's not what I asked."

Her daughter sighed, and lifted herself completely from the sink, the sickness seemingly disappearing in that moment. Tears pooled in her eyes as she looked at her mother.

It had been just the two of them supporting her and her siblings for so long. Her father had passed suddenly when she was a younger, and her mother had began working as a seamstress to make ends meet, and as the oldest daughter, she had started working as soon as she was old enough to help support the family.

She couldn't help but feel guilty. Her mum had sacrificed so much, all for her daughter to grow up and get pregnant to a man who she was certain didn't care if she lived or died.

"I'm sorry, mum," she breathed out, the tears now freely dripping onto her puffy cheeks.

The woman sighed heavily, making no move to comfort her distressed daughter. "You will tell whoever it is, and he will marry you," she turned to leave the kitchen, "and if he doesn't - don't bother coming back here.

The bakery was buzzing with life the next day, there didn't seem to be spare moment to even take a breath. Workers approached her desk almost constantly, asking about their pay, and threatening strike action 'if Solomons didn't pay what he owed'. This wasn't rare, her workday was always busy, but every interaction was making her want to break down in tears.

She hadn't seen Alfie. He had been in his office when she arrived and hadn't left all day, despite it nearing six o'clock in the evening. She noticed Ollie giving her concerned looks whenever he passed by, but she would avoid his gaze, her eyes trained on her typewriter or the various documents spread across her desk.

A feeling of dread curdled in her stomach as more people left the building, throwing down their aprons on their way out. She would usually look forward to this time, when everybody else would clear out, and Alfie would call her into his office but this day it did nothing but cause panic to envelop her.

"Are you okay?" She looked up to see Ollie stood at her desk, his apron gone and his black coat held in the crook of his elbow. She muttered something nonsensical, that she was fine, just not feeling well, but the look the man offered told her he didn't believe it. "You don't have to stay, you know?" She just gave him a confused look, and he sighed as he continued. "Alfie isn't going to sack you or anything...if you...say no, you know?"

She scoffed at his words, his misplaced concern endearing him even more to her. "Thanks, Ollie. I know that."

He didn't say anything else, knocking his fist on her desk gently before heading for the exit.

And then there was two.

She could have sworn he was watching Ollie leave, because as soon as the sound of the heavy door slamming shut rang through the now empty building, he was calling her name.

Every step to his office felt heavy. It was as if her body was telling her to just turn around and run.

Run away.

You'll get another job, just leave now.

But she ignored the protests of her body, and the screaming thoughts in her brain, slowly opening the heavy door and stepping to his dimly lit office.

"Y'alright, love?" He said as soon as the door shut behind her. He was sat on his chair, his legs up on the desk - so nonchalant, so unaware.

Bastard, she thought.

She walked to his desk, but rather than approaching him as she usually would, she sat down in one of the chairs on the other side, instead, placing her shaking hands on her lap.

He raised a brow at her actions, swinging his feet down onto the floor and leaning forward, his forearms resting on the desk, his hands clasped together as he studied her.

A sheen of sweat formed on her forehead as she sat under his gaze, her eyes darting everywhere in the room in order to avoid his gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him to it, summoning every bit of courage she still held.

"Have you ever thought of marriage?"

Her question caused him to sit up a bit straighter in his seat, his head cocking to the side and a smirk playing on his lips.

"You proposing, love?" He joked, his smiled fading when she shot him an unimpressed look, her lips pressed into a thin line. "No," he cleared his throat, "ain't for me, all that."

She nodded in response, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"So you never want that?" He just shrugged. "Under no circumstances?"

"There is not a circumstance in the world that would get me to do that, love, no."

An uncomfortable silence filled the office. She had returned to looking at everything but the man sat across from her, and he continued to stare at her with a frown on his face.

She felt her chest tightening, her breaths coming out shorter as his words replayed in her head.

Not a circumstance in the world.

He called her name, rousing her from her thoughts and she stood up from her seat.

"Are you okay? You don't look well," he said in a tone that she would consider caring if it had come from anyone but him.

"I'm sorry, Alfie, I'm feeling a bit under the weather, I think I should go home."

"Of course, love," he nodded, beginning to stand but she briskly left the room before he could. "You be careful," he called after her, not sure she even heard.

There were days Ollie really enjoyed his job. The days where everything went right and nobody got punched, or killed, were considered goof days. But, the days that went wrong, always seemed to go disastrously wrong, and they usually started with him giving his boss some bad news - which is exactly what he was about to do.

"Are you goin' to say somethin' or are you just goin' to stand there like a lost fucking lemon?"

Ollie cringed at his boss' voice, his eyes trained on the cabinet in the corner of the room.

"Ollie, I swear to fucking-"

Ollie spoke the secretary's name abruptly, causing Alfie to pause mid sentence, relaxing in his chair. "I heard back from the men you got to follow her."

It had been three days since she had been to work. She had rang in sick the first day, and seeing as how she acted the night before, Alfie was inclined to believe her, but when she failed to check in the following day, he had ordered some of his best men to 'check in on her.'

"They saw her at Mrs Levy's..." He trailed off, watching as his boss' expression went from confused, to understanding, to fury.

"When?" There was a darkness to Alfie's tone, though his posture was relaxed, Ollie knew better, this was the calm before the storm - and he was about to bare the brunt of whatever was about to happen.

"Just now. It's the first time she's left her flat in days, they sent someone straight away-"

Alfie didn't stay to hear another word, flying out of his chair before Ollie had the chance to say another word, and Ollie breathed a sigh of relief.

He also said a prayer for Alfie's poor secretary.

Mrs Levy was not the kindest woman. She had helped many girls in a similar position, but she had never claimed to do it out of kindness. If you asked her, she would say it was a way to save the reputation of girls in her community and an excellent money maker.

The young woman looked around the bedroom she was in, it was clean, if a little cluttered. There was a table next to the bed with various instruments laid out, little metal pieces that made her stomach turn if she looked at them for too long.

Mrs Levy had already explained everything to her - what would happen, how it would feel, and what could happen after - which did nothing to quell her nerves.

She had asked for a moment alone, and Mrs Levy had rolled her eyes, telling her it would be extra if she stayed there too long. She sat on the bed, her shoes laid on the floor, and her hand resting on her stomach. She didn't feel an overwhelming sense of loss about what was about to happen, but it did make her sad, and just for the moment, she allowed herself to think about the 'what ifs'.

What if she had told Alfie she was pregnant?

Would he have changed his stance on marriage?

Would he have given her the money for this himself?

Would he have confessed his undying love for her and dropped to his knees in front of her?

She scoffed to herself, shaking her head to rid the fantasies from her mind. There was no point of dwelling on it now, it was done, and he would never know. She would return to work in a few days and claim she had just had a stomach bug.

It would all just be a bad memory.

She was about to call Mrs Levy back into the room when a crash sounded from outside the bedroom door.

"You get back here, right now, you little-"

Mrs Levy's voice became background noise when the door swung open, and none other than Alfie Solomons blew through the doorway, pistol in hand.

"You and I need to talk, love," he said, causing her eyes to widen in dear. He looked at her confusedly before following her gaze to the pistol held in his hand. "Fuckin' hell, I'm not...I wasn't..." he huffed a sigh, tucking the gun into his belt and holding his hands up in surrender.

"You can't be here," Mrs Levy's voice cut in. "Get out!"

"Oh fuck off, you ol' bat," Alfie rolled his eyes, swinging an arm out as if to bat her away. "C'mon," he held an arm out to the woman who sat on the bed, her eyes wide and her hands shaking.

The car was silent as Alfie drove through the streets of London, the only sounds coming from the shouts of pedestrians as they avoided the car that sped past them, narrowly missing them as they tried to cross the road.

"How did you know?" She asked meekly, her eyes downcast.

"Had my men follow you when you didn't show up for work two days in a row - you're sacked by the way," he said simply, as if he were discussing the weather.

"What? Alfie-"

"Well you can't be workin' now anyway," he shrugged. "With you being...y'know," he gestured a hand to her stomach, "wouldn't be right to make ya sit in a distillery all day."

"I need to work now more than ever, Alfie," she protested, turning her body slightly to face him as best as she could in the cramped vehicle. "I need money if I'm going to be raising a child alone."

Alfie's head snapped towards her, a frown on his face. "Who said anythin' about raisin' it alone?"

"Really?" She raised a brow at him, as if she were waiting for him to burst out in laughter. "You said it yourself, Alfie, under no circumstances would you get married."

"Is that what all this is about? You skive work and go to see that daft bint because of I said I didn't want to get married in passing."

"Mrs Myers is not a-"

"She's killed more people than I have, love."

"That's not funny, Alfie," she admonished, crossing her arms across her chest. "So you're saying you would get married?"

"No," he replied. "But I ain't sayin you'd have to do it alone. I paid for your birthday night out but you don't think I'd pay for my own fuckin' child?"

"I can't go home, Alfie. My mum said-"

"Fuck that daft cow," he pointed a finger in her direction, he had known her mother for years, and he had hated her for just as long. "And you will be living with me."

"Unmarried and cohabitating? Are you trying to get me ostracised?"

"You should have thought about that before you let me get ya pregnant, darlin'," he looked at her with a toothy grin. Her face twisted in confusion when she looked out of the window, taking in her surroundings.

"Where the fuck are we?" She asked, looking at the big white houses with a mixture of uncertainty and wonder.

"We are home," he told her plainly, parking the car in front of what she considered to be the nicest house on the street. She wordlessly exited the vehicle, following behind him as he ascended the steps and opened the black door, holding it open for her.

"Better than your mum's flat, ain't it?" He threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to his side as if the entire situation wasn't an absolute nightmare.

She hummed in response, taking in the foyer, the walls were bare, and the wallpaper was dated, but that could all be fixed - and she looked forward to doing it.

"If I were to consider marriage," Alfie spoke from her side. "I would only consider it with you," he pulled away, clearing his throat. "Let me give you a tour."

Alfie wasn't lying. He proposed to her when she was four months pregnant, right after they felt their baby kick for the first time. They married one week later, a grand affair considering it was on such short notice.

Their son was born exactly five months after their wedding, in their shared bedroom.

thanks for reading! for anybody who has read more of my stories do you think they're too similar plot-wise? i enjoy writing angst a lot but get scared that my fics are too samey lmao. so if you'd like to see me write something different pls lmk

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Just Papa Solomons Things

Visiting Scotland with your dove

TH Masterlist

Even though you don’t want to

Alfie’s not a fan of Scotland. Not because of the people or the culture.

No, it’s because everything, right, is on a fucking mountain!

Or so he claims regardless of whether you’re walking to Old Town in Edinburgh via Princes Street, going up the gentle sloping pathway on Calton Hill, are trying to hike up to King Arthur’s Seat in Holyrood Park, or are walking down (I repeat, DOWN) the Royal Mile.

And that’s only in Edinburgh.

It honestly makes you wonder why he decided to tag along, especially since you’ve also planned to explore the rugged north. Then again, you know your grumpy partner well enough to be aware that part of the reason he’s with you is to offer protection.

Truth be told, Alfie gets bloody anxious when you’re on a trip by yourself. Enough so to disregard the issues he has with his leg. Your needs come before his. That’s “non-fucking-negotiable, mate”.

Fortunately, well, for him, the amount of solo trips has drastically reduced since you started dating. He still gives you plenty of space to do things on your own, but it makes him feel better knowing he’s nearby should anything happen.

And it’s nice because now you have him to drive you around so you don’t have to make use of public transport (depends on where you two are, though), watch your luggage when going to the restroom (again, if applicable), and hold your hand as winter casts the streets in dusk as early as four in the evening.

Another added bonus is that you get to stay in the most comfortable and sometimes downright fanciest hotels. Alfie might be frugal, having been raised that way, but he doesn’t want to do you short. Plus, having the finances, he doesn’t mind occasionally splurging a little bit if it concerns spending time together.

Now, Papa Solomons hates the cold and becomes snappy when the heating isn’t on in your coach in the train to Inverness.

“‘S bad for me sciatica. Also ain’t good for your health. They better get the heating here or I’ll make them. My cane should be plenty conviction.”

When one of the staff members walks by, Alfie beckons them over. However, before he can so much as open his mouth, you place your hand on his arm.

He glances over his shoulder, rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh as you shake your head, and clears his throat to politely inquire about the state of the heating in a strained voice. “You see, mate, my wonderful missus is gettin’ cold and we can’t ‘ave that, can we? If she starts getting the heavy shakes between let’s say now and ten minutes, I’ll personally come turn the fucking system on, right. Do you understand?”

With a stammered “y-yes, sir” and frantic nod, the attendant is off.

Three minutes later, you feel the coach warming up. Alfie leans back, eyes closed, his fingers entwined with yours. “Much better. Fucking trains. Don’t like ‘em.”

You kiss his cheek. “Thank you for not using your cane.”

“Mhm, doin’ it only for you.”

And he does. Alfie tries to reign himself in whenever he’s with you, afraid of showing you the always seething rage beneath his skin, the wrath inside looking for a way out. So, while he hasn’t discussed it yet with you and remains highly skeptical about how much good it’ll do, he’s thinking about anger management therapy or taking classes in it.

If only so he won’t turn into his father.

So he can love you properly.

So he can settle with you.

Albeit perhaps not in the place he’s envisioned.

It all happens on a day trip you booked for the two of you.

Perhaps it’s the way he sees how enamoured you are by the language, the way your eyes light up when hearing about local folklore, the strange familiarity he feels when the Norse history of Skye is mentioned while you’re at his side.

Maybe it’s the glamour of the faeries.

Whatever it is, it makes him want to stay on Skye with you.

He doesn’t mention it while you’re having lunch at Relish in Portree, but Alfie can’t stop envisioning having a little bakery in a town like this. He’d leave London and Margate behind, settle here, and live out whatever days remain for him in the peace and quiet of the island.

On the long drive back, he lets you snuggle up to him for warmth and to function as your pillow. He only wakes you up once when you stop in Broadford for refreshments, gently forcing you to get out of the van and accompany him to the Co-Op to get a semi-decent dinner and snacks.

It’s safe to say, for its rarely any different, Alfie pays for everything. “‘S what I’m supposed to do, innit? Good men take care of their wi- women.”

Despite his stoic expression and casual tone, meant to dismiss the slip of the tongue, the quick glance to check your reaction is telling. He knows he fucked up, played his cards too fast, too rashly.

You catch it, but decide to willfully ignore it. Instead, you take a sip of coffee. “Let’s go back to the bus.”

Nevertheless, once you’re back at the hotel, he goes nearly feral. It’s similar to what overtakes him every summer, but now it’s driven by the desire to claim your unbearable cuteness, completely under the spell of the magic that seems to surround you, lingering.

There’s a precarious balance when it comes to how vocal Alfie is in bed. Some days he’ll guide you to your orgasm without a single silence, each word pointed and full of purpose. Other days, the only thing he can do is growl and grunt, lost in the pleasure you grant him and vice versa, but also in the way his brain is finally off. No schemes, no secrets nor hidden motifs. Only the simple act of fucking.

Nonetheless, this is perhaps one of the few times you’ve heard him beg. Desperate and blunt, no polish to his utterances yet crystal clear diamonds compared to the muttering meant to confuse.

“Marry me, eh? Let’s, fuck, hm, yeah settle,” he murmurs in between kisses, which grow sloppier as his thrusts get more and more erratic. “Settle with me. Be Mrs Solomons. Want, hrm, need my wife. Only you. Want. Want you. Only you.” He pulls your hair so you’ll bare your neck to him. Lovingly he bites the skin, the sting and burning warmth heated by the words spilling from his lips. “Please, dove, please. Marry me.”

He doesn’t need a spoken answer, just the mere fantasy you say ‘yes’ and the way you look when he’s inside you, especially as you come undone because of him, is enough to send him over the edge with you.

As you’re basking in the afterglow, Alfie caresses your arm. His fingers slowly slide over your skin, lost in thought, wandering in the chaos reigning in his head until he’s found the words to start the conversation. Or, rather, to tell you what’s been on his mind since the afternoon, the wee bakery on Skye.

There are no words for the bleakness washing over him as you frown, taken completely unawares by his attitude. It’s unlike him to be this spontaneous, without a plan. “Alfie, don’t be rash. It doesn’t suit you. Come up with a business plan first. Is it viable? Would we manage to get by? It won’t be like London.”

“I know, but…” he groans, reluctant to admit he’s in the wrong, “you’re right, dove. Silly, ain’t ‘e, this old man and ‘is fantasies.”

“You’re not old.”

“Older than you. Old enough to be-“

You shut him up with a kiss. “No, none of this. I love you for who you are. I’m proud to be Papa’s little dove.”

“Would you one day be ‘is wife?”

You furrow your brow, wondering where this is coming from. That is, until you recall his pleading in his sex drunk stupour. “You meant that?”

He nods. “Mhm. Maybe not the proper way to ask, but I mean it. This, ‘ere, right, between us, I want it to be long term.” Voice lowered and steady blue eyes filling with the fight between panic, disbelief, and determination, he asks the question that makes him grow pale. “It is, innit?”

“It is, don’t worry.”

He cups your cheek and pulls you towards him to rest his forehead against yours. A tapered breath escapes him, shivery and frail. “Stay with me.”

You run your fingers through his beard, a burden falling off of your shoulders as you see him relax. Though you appreciate Alfie’s occasional openness, when he shows his struggles you can’t help but feel your own heart crack.

Then again, that’s Love.

For whatever our souls are made of, if we’re lucky, we find one that’s compatible. That’s the same.

“I won’t go anywhere without telling you.”

“Don’t go at all without me.”

You feel something wet warm your hand as you kiss his forehead. The sensation moves to your chest when Alfie rests his head on it. His arms wrapped around your waist in a fierce bear hug, you run your fingers through his hair, weaving them through his messy brown locks.

Alfie rarely if ever allows himself to show his vulnerabilities. Nevertheless, when he’s around you and alone like this, he does. And it still stuns him you stay at his side, that you haven’t run from, in his words, “tainted bein’, uglier than a golem”.

But how could you? How could you leave a man as doting and loving as him? Sure, Alfie’s gruff and a little rough-handed at times, even to you, but you know he tries not to be.

Sleet gently ticks against the window, filling the silence in the hotel room. As per usual on nights like this, you use it to calm the both of you down.

Until your skin is tear-stained.

Both your hearts cracked a little more.

And Alfie’s asleep.

Tag list: @potter-solomons @zablife @vir-tual @hecatemoon87 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @buttercupsandboys @solomons-finest-rum @wandawiccan60 @mollybegger-blog @babaohhhriley

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Dirty Bliss - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

Here we are then, everyone. The first winning submission from my new Tell me your Fantasy feature is here, this from @liliac-dreamer​, their fantasy as follows - 

Now, we all know the mad baker gives massive public-place-sex vibes, BUT! To me he mostly gives off possessive/territorial vibes, so... Is there any way you can mix these two things together? (maybe one of the people he's dealing with tries to get too close and he NEEDS to show you're already spoken for? Maybe he let's them overhear something? 😉 )

I hope this lives up to your little fantasy, darling! :)

Words - 1,666

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You can always feel when Alfie is on edge. It isn’t just the fact that his muscles stiffen like lead, or that his jaw clenches and he begins grinding his teeth. His entire being seems to seethe with palpable annoyance, just like he is now, sitting next to you within the private box at the Royal Opera House, tension coursing through him. There’s a very specific reason why, too, why he cannot enjoy Aida, one of his favourite operas.  

Albert Ross is that reason.  

The business associate, a fellow figurehead within the organised crime world, has never made a secret of his desire for you, no matter how perilous such might be, to openly covet another dangerous man’s wife. Especially when that man is Alfie Solomons.  

“He’s fuckin’ undressing you with his bleedin’ eyes,” he hisses in your ear, the sound of back teeth grinding in fury audible as his eyes dart between the stage and Albert.

Resting a calming hand to his thigh, you stroke, hoping to settle him. “He’s only looking, love,” you remind him. “I’m not about to go dive on him, you know that. And he’d be even more of a stupid prick than we know he already is if he tried anything with me.”

Alfie rumbles a quiet laugh, his hand covering yours. “Ain’t that the truth, treacle.”

It seems this notion is entirely negatable, though, you discover after excusing yourself to go and powder your nose, wanting to ensure that your visage is indeed perfect. The toilets up there for the private box guests are a single room with one lavatory, able to be locked from the main entrance door rather than housing multiple sectioned cubicles, but since you are only there to quickly check your face, you do not bother clicking said lock.  

About ten seconds after placing your compact back into your small, beaded clutch, you wish that you had.

“Evening, you lovely little filly.”

Turning to Albert, you lift your chin, not wanting the small flare of nerves you felt within grow to show upon your face. “Mr Ross.” Straightening, you push your chest forward, willing yourself to radiate confidence and nonchalance over his intrusion. “This is a ladies’ only bathroom. I shall have to ask you to leave.”

Albert sucks a breath over his teeth, making a show of pondering your words. “I know, Mrs Solomons. It is, however, the only place I could get you alone, to reveal to you my intentions.”  

“I care not for them, excuse me.” Stepping forward, you swerve around him, the man catching your arm in a firm grip.  

“Not so fast.”

Snatching your arm back, he hangs onto you. “Get your fucking hand off me!”

“No,” he tells you firmly, closing the space between you, his eyes radiating entertainment at your biting reaction to his advances. “Won’t be doing that, not until I’ve had a piece of you, you pretty little thing.”  

“Now, now, old son,” you hear Alfie speak, pushing open the door. Horror fills Albert’s eyes immediately. You aren’t the only one who wishes they’d locked it behind them on entry to the facilities, something Alfie does after stepping in. “You heard the lady. Get your fucking hand off her.”

His words are delivered quietly, but with all the frost of an arctic chill, Albert releasing you from his grip immediately, his mouth floundering. “Alfie, mate. It isn’t what it looks like.”

His eyes widen as he stands at your side, his chest barrelling. “Oh, do forgive me for not having my glasses on, because what it looked like, yeah. Is you putting your dirty fucking hands on my wife. And what it sounded like, right, was you telling her you wouldn’t remove ‘em until you got a piece of her!” Turning to you, he amps up the slight theatrics of his retort. “Apparently, I need an ear trumpet as well as a new pair of specs, my darlin’.”  

“Alfie, please, I...”  

“No!” he bellows, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a gun. “You’ve said quite enough for tonight, sunshine. Now, what you’re gonna do next, yeah, is fucking stand there against them sinks, and watch me get a piece of what you wanted.” His face falls, Alfie chuckling. “Oh yeah, that’s right, Albert. Ain’t nobody who teaches a fuckin’ lesson like me.”  

The blaze of arousal you feel melts down your spine, puddling between your legs, turning to kiss Alfie’s neck, his soft beard tickling against your nose. “Yeah, take your dress off, love. I want him to get a full view of that’s mine and mine alone.” He reaches with his free hand to assist, lowering the zip while you smirk at Albert, arousal radiating from your every pore.  

To fuck in front of someone else has always been somewhat of a turn on for you, but to do it before a man who has presented himself as an adversary, while your husband keeps him there at gunpoint, well. It is not your typical Friday night, that’s for certain. Once your gown is removed, you take it to hang upon a brass peg mounted onto the tiles, Alfie moving to close the wooden lid upon the toilet, seating himself, arm still raised, his pistol pointed at Albert.  

Crouching before him, your smile widens, Alfie’s eyes flitting to yours for a second, grinning. “This is gonna be a good time, treacle. A right memorable trip to the opera.” Unzipping his trousers, you pull his rapidly thickening cock free, taking him into your mouth, your lips gliding down the thick, vein ridged shaft. “Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he encourages, his free hand coming to rest gently on your shoulder. “That’s it, my darlin’, fuck!”  

You can only imagine the look upon Albert’s face at being forced to watch, hearing Alfie chuckling softly with amusement between his gruff grunts, your mouth working him, leaving little trails of red from your lipstick all over his flushed cock, precum wetting your tongue as you moan around the thick of him. You work him so well, you can feel his thighs tremble, his cock twitching a little in your throat, Alfie reaching to gently grasp your jaw.  

“More of that later, my love,” he speaks, winking at you. “Don’t wanna spend myself before Albert here gets to watch the main act.” Standing up, he pushes your hip in indication he wants you to turn, facing Albert, his face set in a mixture of arousal and chagrin, while you take Alfie’s cock and guide him to your glistening apex, sinking down with a soft sigh.  

“Mmmm, there’s no better cock in the world than yours,” you hum, turning to kiss him, all smouldering embers as you begin to bounce upon him.  

“Yeah, look at that, Albert,” Alfie moans, his arm tightening around you, hand then reaching to grasp your breasts in turn. “Look how beautiful she looks split around a great, big cock. And you were hoping it’d be yours. Nah, son. Not tonight, and not with my missus.”

The sight of someone watching has thrill meeting fire, the heat misting, biting pleasure warming your veins as you chuckle, Albert’s face reddening more.  

“I think he likes it,” you purr in tease, turning to run your tongue up Alfie’s cheek, your husband beginning to move beneath you, doing an excellent job of bouncing you upon his long, girthy cock.

“And who wouldn’t like watching a woman as fuckin’ sublime as you getting fucked, eh, my sweetheart? He’s just sour that it ain’t him doing the fucking though, ain’t you, Al?” The man remains quiet, looking at the floor. “Oi! Chin up and answer me, you cunt!”

“Yes, Alfie. I am.”

“Yeah,” Alfie chuckles, panting as he kisses your shoulder, “bit of truth never hurt no one, did it? Except maybe you and your pride. As it should.” He continues to laugh, his tongue touring your throat, gun still primed as you circle your hips on him, your walls fluttering as the sound of your sex fills the room, the wet squelch of him cutting into you deeply, your flesh smacking together. “God, fucking ‘ell, my love. You bloody don’t half know how to ride a cock. Yeah, fuck, that’s it.”  

His encouragement spurs you on, your eyes never leaving Albert’s, watching the humiliation dance in his irises, your mouth dropping open as you feel Alfie’s fingers reach to begin rubbing your clit, his lips peppering kisses against your spine.

“Mmm, fuck, darlin’,” he pants. “Let’s get you comin’ hard all over my cock, yeah?”

The tempest of fervid heat begins to wind within you, coiling hard, the pleasure rolling and coursing as you pant, his fingers rubbing at your bud tightly, the press firm as he strokes your slick, his teeth sharp at your shoulder.  

“Fuck!” you cry, breathless as it catches you, wailing ferally as he tips you into the glittering abyss of your release, Alfie staccato beneath you as his cock twitches and then fills you with thick ribbons of cum, everything that was frenzied beginning to slow, catching your breath.  

“Well, Albert,” he begins, panting hard. “I hope that taught you a thing or two over just what the fuck I will and won’t tolerate. Now, if I ever see you in my neck of the woods again, the belly of the Thames will get what my dogs don’t finish from that festering bag of bones. You fuckin’ understand, yeah?”

“Yeah.”  

“Good. Now, get the fuck out.” Albert tears a path from the room, and you get up quickly to go and re-lock the door, save anyone else coming in and witnessing your near nudity, snickering into your evening glove covered hand.  

“I think I enjoyed that,” you laugh, Alfie pulling himself back into his trousers as he stands.

“I know you did, you mucky mare,” he chuckles with affection. “Had you wailing louder than the bird out there on the stage, didn’t I?”  

Yes. He most certainly did.  

[anonymooseforever007]

Ring Around the Roses

(Alfie Solomons x female reader)

Summary: Attempting to get away from the Shelby party chaos, Alfie and his wife sneak off into Tommy's garden for a little fun. It isn't until the next morning they discover the consequences of their actions and Alfie has to remind his wife what their marriage is really about.

A/N-Hi Y'all! Possible TW's for only the end of this include Mentions of death, Unhealthy coping habits and self blame! Also this is for K's (@runnning-outof-time) 3K celebration! Congratulations you're amazing and I love seeing you on here❤️❤️❤️ I hope you like this! I haven't done a celebration before really but I saw your theme and the idea spring into my head. Despite the warnings it's mostly fluffy until the time skip! Also there's one part that implies smut but none actually written! Enjoy ❤️

WC- 6.6k

Main Masterlist

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"Are you sure we can do this out here?"

"Do what dovey? I'm just taking a nice little stroll with my darling wife aren't I? Letting her get a quiet break from all those heathens inside."

You scoffed, knocking into your husband's side gently as the pair of you walked through the garden. For a man who seemed particularly fond of dark colours, Thomas Shelby's garden was particularly vibrant. 

"Oh hush, you only call them heathens because you're too scared to use the word friend."

"FRIEND!" Alfie scoffed while kicking at a particularly beautifully tulip that just happened to be nearby, just to prove his point. "No no no Dovey, THEY are not my friends, yeah. If I were to pick anyone to be my friend it certainly would not be ANY of them." 

You only rolled your eyes and shot a knowing smirk in his direction. For all your husband's spite and trickery, you knew he really did have a soft spot for the Shelby family.

"Alright love, I believe ya. That's absolutely why you immediately declined the invitation to come here tonight isn't it. Burned it in the fireplace correct? Told me not to put it in the calendar? Because you don't have plans at being anything other than vicious enemies is that right? The pie I brought tonight was a death threat wasn't it? Did you slip in some arsenic into the powdered sugar?"

Rolling his eyes at your teasing, Alfie couldn't help but smile as he watched you laugh at your own joke. Continuing your path through the garden you mindlessly reached back a hand for your husband a few steps behind. A clear indication of what you wanted. What you always wanted. Slipping his hand between yours, he let you drag him through the bushes, further from the party. With each step he could see you relax a bit more, as you enjoyed the scene around you.

"Is it quieter out here Dovey?"

Smiling softly, you only nodded your head before reaching out gently to touch the leaves of a nearby bush. Though the party was fun, it had gotten a bit loud and in the growing chaos you needed some air. So while Tommy and Polly were distracted trying to convince Arthur and Finn not to throw Michael in the lake, you and your husband had slipped outside. 

"Alfie, we should plant a garden of our own I think."

"Is that right Dovey? Does my lady want some bushes of her own to trim doesn't she?"

"I think we could get some nice rose bushes. I've always loved those."

"Roses, is that it? You got a feeling about those prickly little parasites don't ya Dovey? I never got why you liked them."

Chuckling you sat on the edge of a nearby wall as your husband dug his feet in the ground. You knew exactly why Alfred hated roses, and it still amused you to this day. 

It happened years ago, around the time you'd first gotten together. This was before Alfie was even able to grow a beard, and all his kisses resulted in a scratchy scruff that prickled your face. Way back when boxing was still his main pastime instead of "baking", both kinds actually and these days your husband finally knew how to make a decent muffin. In an effort to be romantic, he'd shown up at your work one day with a nice bouquet of roses. They were lovely flowers and you were immensely elated by the gesture, and especially amused since he'd bought the flowers from that very shop only the day before too.... However it was a shame you never got the chance to put them in water. See, somewhere between the ten steps it took to get from the door to your table, he had tripped and fallen flat on the ground. Don't worry, his face hadn't hit the hard ground, it was cushioned....by the thorny roses. Maybe it was a good thing the thorns had left so many bloody scratches. It meant you weren't able to tell his face had turned as red as the roses petals now surrounding him. Instead of the romantic date he wanted to take you on, the evening was spent with you dapping the cuts on his face with a damp cloth while he started at the wall, contemplating every life choice he'd ever made. That was the night Alfred Solomons decided he'd never trust a rose ever again. Not even the ones his darling wife sought to plant in her gardens.

"Alfie, come on! Roses aren't that bad, just because you had a little slip up years ago doesn't mean they all hate you."

Standing by up again, you held out your arms towards Alfie as music began to reach the garden. Shaking his head lightly, he set down his cane and took your arms, fully confident you'd be there to support him if his hip got too bad. You and Alfie had yet to dance tonight, caught up talking with others (which was really just your doing) and pointing out everyone who'd gotten too drunk and was trying piss in the plants. It wasn't something either of your minded to badly, the large crowds of people tended to make you feel a bit nervous and Alfie occasionally had a hard time keeping rhythm because of his hip. So most of your dancing was done in the back corners of the ballroom or privately in your kitchen, waiting for the midnight snacks to be done. 

However tonight, it seems you'd be dancing in Thomas Shelby's garden. Slowly but happily, you waltzed closely with your husband, stepping around the fountain and laughing as he stopped to twirl you ever few seconds. Other than the music from the house and the gentle crunches  of your shoes beneath the gravel path, the world was silent. When the song ended your husband gave you a gentle kiss and stepped back, though he was still holding you in his arms. Looking up above yourselves, you saw the constellations fitting the night sky.

"Ohh Alfie! Look at them! Aren't they beautiful?"

Beaming, you grinned up at the stars twinkling down on you before moving from your husband to a smaller empty plot of ground. You suspected that something was to be planted there soon, but paid no mind to the grime that would get on your skirt as you settled down to sit in the dirt. It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible. 

"What are ya doing now Dovey? Is this the thing you said we shouldn't be doing?" Alfie teased you from where he was still standing.

"I just wanna sit and watch the stars for a bit. Come," remaining seated you patted the spot next to you, "Join me."

Alfie walked over to the spot but when he got there, he only raised an eyebrow at you and tapped his hip with the cane. You stared for a moment and then it clicked. Laughing slightly at your forgetfulness, you stood up, bowing dramatically, and held out your arm. 

"Right right, I forget you have the hip of an overworked, ninety seven year old parlor dancer. Shall I assist you to the ground my dear sir?"

Alfie only grumbled, but his eyes twinkled as you teased him. If anyone else had made the comment they'd have been dead before they blinked, but you were different. Alfred Solomons was capable of many things, but some nights when his hip got bad, he needed help moving around more, especially if it meant going from standing to sitting on the ground. You were happy to help of course, but being married for over a decade didn't mean the pair of you were above lightly poking fun of the other. Only two years ago, you had accidentally scratched part of your eye and needed to wear an eyepatch for five weeks. The first thing Alfie had done when you walked out of the examination room and asked if he could get food for dinner, was reply with "does patchy wanted a cracker" in reference to the one eyed parrot you'd seen in a film the month before. It was just something you'd always done together even before you started dating. A dark humor you both shared, as if joking about the hurt could make it better. 

Holding his other arm, you gently helped your husband lower himself to the ground, squeezing his hand comfortingly when he let out a small groan. After helping your husband take a seat, you settled into your own again, leaning your head on his shoulder as you looked to the heavens. 

"You aren't really gonna plant roses are ya Love? What if something happens to them?"

"Like what? You assault them with your face again?"

"....Maybe? But like why do you really enjoy them? I still don't see the charm."

Sighing, you shifted your gaze and looked your husband in the eyes.  One of your hands moved up to his face, as you gently caresses the one spot on his face that refused to grow hair like the rest of his beard. You knew it was another old war wound, but this was actually one he had yet to tell you the story of. Gazing into his eyes a few moments more, you then changed positions so you were seated across his lap, one leg in either side of his.

"Why do I love roses?....Their petals are as soft as their thorns are sharp and given the right hand, their climb up any wall in their path. Not only that but their petals can have many uses for food or paint or even my blush. That means they are able to change their usefulness based off their situation at hand. They are able to adapt, nor are the helpless. Some people say the point of the thorns is to choke out anything else threatening to take the roses' livelihood." you gently held your husbands face between your hands as you continued, "I like roses because they remind me of you Alfie. Because they are beautiful, and strong, and dangerous. You are a gorgeous and strong man, and I know how badly you try to protect me every day. You are so kind to me, but I know how far you'll go for me. I would go just as far for you. You are my rose Alfred Solomons and so I love them as all they remind me of you."

Alfie was quiet for a moment, observing what you'd said. His hands sat on your waist, thumbs rubbing gently in your sides. 

"You saying I'm like a fucking flower Dovey, is that it?"

"Yeah, you're my flower though."

"....Alright."

"....You know why else you're like a rose love?"

"Why poppet?"

"Because it can be a pain in the ass to keep you alive sometimes."

Alfie only put his hand to his chest in mock offense, while your grinned up at him mischievously.

"Oi, now you better watch your words there Dovey."

"Make me Rosie," you whispered, grinning as your leaned closer to your husbands face, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Gently Alfie leaned back, taking you with him until his back was on the ground. Hands, still on his face, you could feel the smile on his face. Slowly one of his hands moved to your head bringing you down so he could kiss you again. Sweet at first but it quickly increased in passion and vigor. Though eventually you had to pull back for breath, and it was then you realized his hands had already rearranged your skirts in a way overnight you both.

"Alfred? I know we can't do this out here?"

Your husband only laughed, reaching towards his belt as he pulled you close again.

"Slide down a bit farther and I think you'll see we definitely can Dovey. It's only a matter of being quiet enough to evade capture."

It was a nice little spot, right next to the rocky path and dug out in a manner that was lined on three sides by tall hedges. To anyone looking out if the mansion, the little alcove would have been completely invisible. And luckily, the music was loud enough to hide the sounds of rustling bushes...

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It wasn't until the next morning when you realized what went wrong...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After making it back to the house last night and finding half the dog food "mysteriously missing", the pair of you had decided to call it a night. And since business was going so well Alfie had elected to take a few days off, hoping to spend more time with you. It also meant he'd finally be able to sleep in.....or so he thought.

A sudden crash woke Alfie from his slumber the next morning. 

Shooting up, he automatically looked to his right, and his heart stopped for a moment realizing you weren't there. Another clatter from downstairs and a frustrated scream from you had him practically jumping out of bed and grabbing his gun. You usually like staying in bed for a few more hours, especially when he was there, so the fact he could hear your distress from upstairs made him worry. 

Carefully Alfie snuck down the hall, peaking in rooms to make sure no unsavory figures were lurking behind the door. Another annoyed groan accompanied by various curse words hurried him to his final destination. 

"Love, are you alright?"

It was a stupid thing to ask as you were very much not alright. The kitchen was a mess, looking like every cabinet had been opened and all the contents pulled out. Pots and bass were laud hurriedly across the counters as you rummaged through every nook and cranny. A quickly glance into the living room told Alfie it was scattered in a similar state. But you hadn't responded to your husband, not the first time or even the second. It wasn't until Alfie stepped right up behind you, putting his hand on your shoulder, and turning your around to face him when you responded.

"I can't find it."

Your voice wavered as you admitted the truth. Looking down like a small child about to be told off, you averted your face from your husband's. Alfie was still confused, but he could tell whatever you were rallying about was obviously important.

"Can't find what Dovey? Whatever it is it's probably isn't too bad. I can help ya find it righty?"

"No Alfie you don't undertstand."

"Then help me understand Love. Let's get through this together like we always have yeah? Come on, tell your husband what we're looking for." Carefully cupping your face in his hands, Alfie guided you to look at him again. He could see the tears welling in your eyes as you spoke.

"....I.....I lost my wedding ring Alfie."

"Oh."

It was the simple oh that broke the dam. Stepping back from your husband, tears began to stream down your face as you shoved your fingers in you hair as if trying to hold in the stress.

"SEE I told you it was terrible. I...I woke up this morning and went to the bathroom and noticed it missing when I went to clean my hands. I figured I'd just taken it off la... last night but it wasn't by the bed table like I usually put it. Then I went through the bathroom and it wasn't there. I've gone through every room in this hours and I can't fucking find it!!! I don't ....I don't know where it is Alfie. I just... oh god." 

Covering you mouth with your hand, you realized where you lost the ring. 

"Alfie the fucking garden."

"The garden? Love you haven't made the garden yet, how could it be there?"

"No, TOMMY'S garden. It has to be there. It fell off last night when we were rolling in the dirt. I've been meaning by to get it resized. Oh fuck this is awful"

Alfie actually chuckled at your realization. Of course the ring would fall off in the most inconvenient place possible, but he wasn't about to tell you that.

"Thats alright Dovey we can just..."

Throwing your hands in the air you interrupted your husband, frustrated at yourself for a number of reasons. It stung Alfie's heart to see you like this. Carefully he dragged your hands from your face and pulled you into a hug. Soothingly his hands ran up and down your back as he tried to comfort you.

"We can just what Alfred? Waltz back over and demand he let us dig up the plants for it? He'd probably ask why and what are we suppose to say then huh Alfred? Oh you know, we lost it in the garden you see...Well what were you doing there Y/N? ...Nothing much just fertilizing the soil, pollinating the flower, playing like the rake and ho, rustling the bushes, sowing seed in the garden, FUCKING IN THE FLOWERBEDS!!!! No we can't do that Alfie we just can't! It's probably gone forever... I'm so sorry."

Alfie was the one to hide his face this time. He knew you were in distress but he was amused by one of your last sentences. You always were good with the innuendos. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to get you to calm down. He knew at this point you weren't so mad about the ring, as just overwhelmed by the lack of success you'd had in finding it.

"Yes love, we can tell him all those things and if he'd got any sort of romantic bone in his tiny, banged up little body he'd offer us shovels to dig if we need them. And if not then I'd wager every deal I'd ever have with his lot is out the fucking window isn't it. We've been married since before the little one of them was teething haven't we? It's not like they don't think we're fucking. Besides it's a decent fucking garden, Tommy should have know what he was doing when he made that little hidey spot didn't he? It'll be fine. And if I find it then I'll get to propose to you all over again won't I? I think if I got one wish left in the word it would be to do that again. Ask if you'd be mine forever and let you know I'll always be there. Love I promise. It's alright Dovey, it's ok. No need to get worked up about it's not such a big deal."

Thought he was trying to help, his last sentence only made things worse. Stepping pack from Alfie you threw your hands up again.

"IT IS OUR MARRIAGE ALFIE! And I've practically lost it like it means nothing at all! How can you say that!"

There it was. The really reason you were so worked up. Not because you'd lost the little ring. It was because somewhere in your mind, over the years you'd been together, you'd gotten the idea that if you didn't have it on your were almost betraying everything you held dear. As if you thought without the ring, all the vows you'd mad together were nil. Alfie couldn't help but laugh at that. He laughed hard too, like you'd told the funniest joke in their world. 

"You think that ring is our marriage?"

Stepping closer again Alfie took your arms and pulled you closer.

"Our marriage is so much more than that fucking ring love," he said, cupping your face between his hands again. "Our marriage is me stealing Ollie's shirt before every lunch date because his is cleaner than mine and wanna look my best for the best, that's you by the way. It's you grinning at me through the glass window at fuck O'clock in then morning when I've taken the dog out for a piss since you thought it'd be funny to lock me out in the cold in my fucking skeevies again. It's me paying a fuck ton of money to the flower shop down the street so you could get a rose every week I was away fighting. It's you spending hours patching me up after I had a bad fight even though blood makes you gag yeah. When you refuse to give me dinner until I give you a kiss and when I won't give you a gift until I've gotten a hug? Sharing a bath after a hard day? That's our marriage. You interrupting my meeting because you're so excited to show me a new book? Me interrupting your book club because I've just gotten back from a business trip? You demanding I come to bed and cuddle up, only to shove me off of you later when you're too hot? Me tightening jars in the pantry so you have to get me to open them? Making fun of each other's injuries, patchy? Don't you see it? You. Me. You. Me. You. Me. WE."

"Alfie..." You couldn't help but smile at your husband's words realizing he was right.

"Dovey, It isn't defined by a thin piece of metal with a tiny fucking stone that I stole off a rich toff at a boxing match one day. Our marriage is YOU and ME and every little moment in between. And I promise it's always gonna be just that. And do you know why that is Treacle?"

Alfie had moved his hands again, now resting them on your hips. Gazing at you lovingly he waited for your answer.

"Why Ally?"

"Because I'm your flower remember? I'm your fucking rose.... and you're fucking my sunshine, Dovey. I have no chance of living without you."

Wrapping your arms around your husband, you buried your face into his neck. Losing the ring you'd worn almost every day for years didn't seem so criminal anymore. 

"Alfred Solomons when did you learn to say something so romantic."

Your husband only chuckled as he step away, grabbing some of the boxes you'd pulled out in your panic. 

"A master never reveals his secrets Dovey. Now come on. Let's clean this up and then we'll go get you a new ring eh? Wouldn't want any gangly miscreant thinking they've got a chance with you would we?"

Looking at the damage you'd done, you couldn't but sigh, maybe it would have been better to wake your husband immediately before diving head first into your expedition. Now you were kicking yourself since you'd just redone all the work you'd don't last week reorganizing every thing.

"I'm not sure the jewellery shop will still be open today by the time we finish Alfred. I'm not even sure we'll be able to finish this in a week with the mess I've made."

Your husband just bonked you lightly with the broom he handed you and nudged you in the direction of the living room.

"That's alright Dovey. Because unless you've got some nefarious little plans I haven't heard of to steal my dog and run off, I don't think either of us is going anywhere anytime soon aren't we?"

You could only smile and kiss him on the cheek.

"I suppose you're right. We've got all the time in the world...."

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Two years later...

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"Shelby, I want my dog."

The Shelby in question turned around, eyeing the woman before him. He knew this day would come. Only he expected it to be sooner, a few days, maybe even a week later...but now it was four months. Four months since he....despite his feelings towards the man, Tommy couldn't help but feel slight regrets for what he'd done. Especially seeing the state of her now, standing in his garden.

"He's just gone on a walk with Charlie and Finn. They should be back in an hour or so."

"I'll wait... I see you filled in that empty plot of ground. They're lovely flowers, I don't remember them being there two winters ago."

Tommy averted his gaze to the bushes you were pointing at. Indeed the small alcove where you'd hidden with your husband had been filled. In its place grew a thick rose bush, blooming with life. You smiled, and to anyone else, they might have thought your look truthful. And some of it was, thinking of the happy memories connected there. But Tommy could see deeper than that. Behind the smile he could see the same pain he had when he looked in mirrors. The pain that came from losing the thing you loved most. For as different as you both were, he knew the tactic you played, though the mask you wore was much brighter than his. And for now he decided he could respect that. He could pretend just for a moment, if only to help you. It was the least he could do, seeing as he was the reason you wore it... He was the one to pull the trigger.

"You're right. The gardener put them in almost two years ago, right after the party where Arthur and Finn tossed Michael into the lake. Do you remember that one? I saw you talking to my sister but never saw you leave that night."

A genuine chuckle left your mouth hearing his words. You played with the ring on your left hand. Only two years old and very expensive, but in that moment, it felt like you were wearing another ring again. One that was much older and worn, that you hadn't seen in years. 

"I do. That was certainly a night I'll remember forever. It's a shame you got rid of that little alcove. It was a nice little spot away from the world wasn't it."

Tommy could only nod and take another drag of his cigarette.

"Did Alfie ever tell you about the first and last time he gave me roses in person. I mean, of course he probably didn't and I'll have to tell you sometime, but I think you might find it funny. There's a lot about him I'm sure he hasn't told you. But then again, knowing him there's probably a lot he did..." You trailed off, staring at the flowers a bit longer, remembering that day over a decade ago, not really meaning to tell Tommy that, doing so anyway. After all, no one had heard from you in months, so it made sense to him, that you'd be eager to talk to anyone. Even the man you should hate most in the world.

Silence descended on the pair standing tense in the garden. There was so much to be said, but neither knew where to start. Truthfully, you'd only talked to Tommy a handful of times, but he felt like he'd already known you like his sister. He couldn't help but scoff, thinking of all the times Alfie had gone off on a tangent about you during a meeting. Sometimes, your mention had nothing to do what was being discussed at all, Alfie just liked to brag about the good he had. In the end it was Tommy who spoke up first, the guilt of his past actions finally caving in on him.

"Y/N, I'm sor..."

"Don't. Thomas, I don't want you to say sorry," turning from the vibrant blooms, you faced the capped man. "I don't want you to say sorry, because you know what? I don't blame you. You're completely alright. I'm not mad at you.... It's my fault I suppose. I could have stopped it."

Tommy raised his eyebrow, curious to what you meant, and also concerned. There was something in your eyes that made his stomach turn slightly hearing those words. But he couldn't exactly place why.

"What's that suppose to mean Y/N?"

You only let out a bittersweet laugh and stared out into the garden again, sitting on the edge of a familiar fountain before you revealed the truth.

"It's my fault he's gone I think. I should have known. I should have never left that day and I could have stopped it."

Tommy's brows furrowed as he sat down next to you. 

"What's that mean? You couldn't have known what his plan was? It's not your fault."

Absentmindedly, you picked at the leaves of a nearby bush. Though your voice was even, Tommy could practically see the war inside your head.

"It's how he kissed me when I left that day. I was only going to be gone a few days to visit my friend who was suppose to have her baby soon. Nothing dangerous. But it's the way he kissed me that should have tipped me off. He kissed me the way he did when he got on the damed train, in that damned uniform. He kissed me like he didn't think he'd see me ever again, going to die in the war. And I guess he didn't."

Tommy didn't say anything. He just let you continue. Something in his head told him, he needed to let your speak, he needed to keep you here tonight. If he let you leave today, no one would ever see you again and something in Tommy told him not to let that happen.

"You know I still haven't admitted it to myself just yet... The truth," standing up you began to pace around the fountain, circling the water. "Since I first got the call I haven't picked up the phone anymore, I'm scared of what I'll hear. I haven't opened any letters, because I don't want to see what they'll say. I still haven't even gone home yet. I've been paying for a hotel room by my friend's house and only leaving by when I need more food. I know it not good for me, but it's all I can find I can do. I've been telling myself it's just that. He's gone to the war again and he'll be back in a few months." Though you spoke with a smile as if talking about the weather, it was easy to see the pain in your eyes. You thought denying the truth would make the hurt go away. But it wouldn't, Tommy knew it was only a matter of time before you broke. And like with Cyril, he felt like he was the one who needed to help. So he decided to play along for now, letting you keep your act up. Atleast until he could figure out the best way to fix the mess he still felt he'd made.

"You tell yourself it's the war eh? Do you write him letters."

"Yes, I write him one almost every day. But I haven't sent any. Did you know that I was rarely able to send them to him during the war. Something about his post being secretive, and no one should know where it really was. So I'd just... write a letter everyday and when I got a letter that his squad was resting at a safe camp every few months I'd just send the packet of them.... If I was lucky I'd get one back, but most of the time I just had to wait. I learned a lot about waiting then. I learned it was better to laugh too. Laughing helped me stay sane."

Standing up, Tommy began walking with you as you stepped deeper into the gardens.

"Laughing eh? Well I guess it's better than what I did. Almost drunk myself to the grave and then fucked off in a caravan with my son for a month. Seems you're handling it better than me."

You could only scoff at his response.

"Oh don't worry, there's been plenty of drinks for me too. I'm a happy drunk though, so I guess it helps my plan. After all, as long as I'm laughing, I don't have time to cry. I don't think I'll be able to stop crying the day I begin. So I'm just trying to hold off as long as I can."

"Aren't we all."

Silence fell in the garden again, and the two widowed souls walked back to the house. It was starting to get back and Tommy had noticed Finn's car pull up a few minutes ago. When you reached the back door you were met with a fluffy beast knocking you over as soon he'd caught sight of you. Cyril was happy to have at least one of his masters back. The man taking care of his now treated him well, but he still missed life with his old owners, even if he couldn't express it in words. 

While you reunited with Cyril and applauded Charlie on the tricks he taught the dog, Tommy went to gather some of Cyril's things and have Francis prepare a room for you. Tommy had no clue where you'd take the dog, but seeing as you seemed adamant about staying away from Margret, and apparently didn't despise Tommy (somehow), he thought it made sense to let you stay the night for a bit. And something still told him to convince you to stay even if just for one day.

On his was back down the stairs he noticed something sitting on the table and there was a click in his brain. He remembered the curiosity brought to him that morning during breakfast, and suddenly a lot of odd business meetings made sense. He finally realized who'd messed up the empty dirt patch that night two years ago. Grabbing the object off the table, Tommy headed back to the drawing room. Inside you were still petting your beloved dog, even though Finn had taken Charlie to get ready for bed. 

"Y/N, I went up to grab some of Cyril's things, but I think it may be better for you to spend the night here. It's getting late and I don't think either of us wants the dog getting hurt if you were to crash."

You laughed gently at his words, not caring to ask about the hand behind his back. Not thinking much about his words, you accepted his offer. You knew you should be mad at him, hate him, even what to kill him, but you couldn't. You were too tried to be mad at anyone right now. Besides, it wasn't like you knew where you were going anyway. You just wanted to see your...his dog again. Maybe if you had that little piece left, it would make it easier to move on. It would make it easier to pretend you weren't alone now.

"Alright. I'll stay. But only so Charlie can give Cyril a proper goodbye. I'd hate to tear them apart, it seems they've made close friends."

"They have," Tommy smiled, genuinely happy thinking of how closely his son had bonded with the dog. "Cyril's stuff is in Charlie's room now infact. They've taken such a liking, I can't keep them apart. We can get his stuff tomorrow, but I do have one thing I think you may want now."

You looked towards the Shelby man curious. "What is it?," you questioned.

Silently Tommy extended his hand to give you the object he'd snagged from the table.

It was a single rose... But something was different about it. The stem seemed to have grabbed something buried within the dirt to take along as it began to grow. Twisting and turning all the way out of the dirt, outwards towards the sun, as if offering the shiny object up. An ages old promise from the rose to the sun of an endless truth, never broken even in death...

The rose was offering his sun a ring.

And not just any ring. A wedding ring. Simple and worn, it had been stolen off a rich toff from a boxing match many years ago. It had survived work and war, seen blood and lust, and so many other things. And while the ring didn't define the marriage it represented a promise you thought you'd never see again. But here now, seeing how tightly the rose stem had grown around it, you knew you'd never have to worry about that again. Not even death could stop the love the rose proposed to his sun. Even in death he'd still offer her life.

You couldn't even take the rose from Tommy's hand before you finally broke. Laughing at the irony, Tears streamed down your face as you sunk to your knees, all the pain you'd been bottling up coming out. And thus you sobbed, hard. So hard in fact, it felt like you couldn't breathe. And you sobs were still mixed with laughter of disbelief as a million memories ran through your head, but none as loud as the one of that night and the morning after. 

Two years ago you'd lost that ring. Alfie promised that he'd look multiple times whenever he went back to the house, even if it meant having the meeting in the garden like "a bunch of prissy ladies at a fucking tea party" as he'd called it. And for two years he'd had no luck until now. But today, your rose had finally found the lost ring, even if you'd lost him months ago. 

Setting the rose gently on the table, Tommy sunk to his knees too. Letting you grab onto him, for a shoulder to mourn on. He knew you needed it. For so long you'd shut yourself away, denying the truth and trying to act like it didn't affect you. You wanted to pretend your world wasn't falling apart and now you couldn't any more. He'd been he same way, except he didn't have anyone to help him. He couldn't burden his one year old son with his grief and he knew most of his family still resented Grace to some degree. They hadn't been as destroyed by her passing as he had. He didn't want you to be alone like he had. For as many terrible thing as Tommy had done, he couldn't bring it upon himself to leave you alone now. And so he sat on the floor, holding you in his arms as the cracked dam finally broke. 

That night, until the early hours of the morning, Thomas Shelby sat comforting the wife of the man he'd killed. And he would until she'd fallen asleep, finally worn out from her grieving. In the morning he'd offer breakfast and they'd get to talking about the loves they lost. They were still both hurt and broken and mourning what they'd lost, but they weren't alone now. For two people so different they both knew what the other felt so deeply. Little snippets and stories about happier times, while watching a little boy play with a big dog, laughing as the pair rolled in the grass. And while both still grieved, there was a peace to be found in being with someone who knew how they felt. 

And while they talked, Y/N played with the ring on her finger. It was new and expensive and fit just right. This one was only two years old and didn't have many memories but she loved it just the same. And upstairs by her bed sat another ring, but this one was held tightly by a rose she'd placed in a vase. This was the ring that she loved more, and the one she really wanted to wear, but she couldn't bear to tear it from the rose just yet. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to. Maybe she'd let the rose dry out and preserve it like she use to do someone's at the flower shop when she was young. But for now she's let it live as it was.

Holding on tightly to a promise that not even death could divide...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While all this happened a mailman was headed towards Birmingham with a letter from a dead man, asking about his dog and looking for his wife....

[call-sign-shark]

Day 2: Cut Your Wings || Alfie Solomons x Reader

Requested by a lovely Anon 🖤

TW: Kinktober prompt- cut, dubcon, blood, inflected pain, masturbation?, enemies with sexual tension, canonical violence, dirty talk, sexual torture, kidnapping

Words: 2K

Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. Also this one ain't as smutty as I thought because I got carried away by the narrative?? Shark please, that ain't the goal of Kinktober??

A grunt escaped from your lips as you desperately tried to free yourself from the heavy shackles imprisoning your wrists. You moved them back and forth, then left and right, turning your hands in every position possible, and yet nothing worked. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip from them. Another painful moan echoed in the damp and dark room of the distillery in which the jew's henchmen had locked you a few hours ago. The cold metal bit your flesh again. "Fuck". When loud footsteps resounded behind the heavy wooden door of your prison, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and prayed to God for a quick and painless death because you knew that Alfie Solomons wasn't a forgiving man. Quite the contrary, his quick temper, and frightening antics only fueled his reputation as one of the most dangerous criminals in London.

"So that's the fucking little rat my men told me about." He stated, standing in the middle of the open door, both of his hands resting on the handle of his cane and a black hat hiding one of his hazel gray eyes.

"Fuck you, fucking cunt! When Tommy will know about this y'all going to regret it!" Words passed your thoughts, spitting their venom at him and yet the man remained silent. You even wondered if he had paid attention to what you just said or if the voices in his head were louder than yours. His gaze, intense and unfathomable, was observing you attentively as if he was trying to decipher the secrets of the most unique precious stone he had even held in his palm. After what seemed to be an eternity, Alfie Solomons pursued his lips, stroked his scruffy beard, and nodded, coming to an agreement with himself.

"See, my mates here told me that Tommy Shelby had sent a few men to London, but here's the problem – He said 'men'. And not 'little girl', which is definitely what you are. A bloody and nosey little girl. Hmhm." He agreed with his own statement before walking to the dusty furniture that was leaning against one of the brick walls. Then, he took off his hat and his long dark coat, and put the cane aside before walking towards you. He stopped in front of you, tattooed arms crossed on his muscular chest. The unusual amount of greenish ink deeply engraved in his skin caught your attention for a short while, you curiously observing the pattern it formed. Of course, both Tommy and Arthur had tattoos, but not as many as the mad baker.

"Would you look at ya. Haven't you something else to do instead of following a Birmingham scumbag's orders? Like finding yourself a man or something like this, y'know. 'Cause I don't see why such a young lass like ya puts her own life into danger for Tommy fucking Shelby." As he talked, Alfie had closed the distance between you and him. He was now leaning above you, so close that his scorching breath was fanning over your skin and the hairs of his beard were almost tickling your face. "So can you tell me why? The only reason I see is that Tommy Shelby sticks his cock in you and it has magically bred some loyalty." The right corner of his full lips curled into a mocking grin when he noticed how his words had lit a fire of rage in your eyes. Bang on, he thought, "No. It's more complex than that, innit? He doesn't want you and yet you remained devoted to him in the hope that one day, maybe, he'd look at you differently. He'd look at you like a woman to fuck senseless and not a pawn of his game."

"Kill me, Solomons. Kill me now or I'll fucking cut you once I'll be out of this shit-stinking place." You hissed, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, the truth hurting you more than a gunwound. For a split second, Alfie swore you would have dug your fangs into his throat, sinking them deep until you tasted blood if you hadn't been restrained by chains and handcuffs.

"Cut me?" The baker repeated these two words, pretending to be surprised while the tone in his voice betrayed how amused he was, "And what kind of tool would you use to cut me? This?" As he said so, Alfie pulled your grey beret out of the large pocket of his trousers, holding it to have a good grip at the base of the razor blades that were sewn to the fabric. "You Peaky girl like to cut people with this right? So come on, threaten me again little bird, I dare you." He said with both of his eyebrows raised in a taunting expression.

"D'ya think you're scaring me? I'm not scared, I'm a Peaky Blinder and I'm going to make things clear again: you better kill me now because if you miss this chance, I'll fucking cut your face the next time we meet–" You didn't finish your sentence, your words replaced by a scream of pain when Alfie, without a single warning, slashed your arm with your peaky cap. Blood soon filled the gash and overflowed from it, soaking the white fabric of your shirt in a crimson stain.

"Go ahead, dove. Say it again." This time you remained silent, staring at him in horror. He had cut deep, deep enough for you to feel the sickening pulse of your own heart in the wound. Your refusal to obey led Alfie to burst into an unexpected rage. His face reddened, and his brows furrowed, casting their shadow eyes. With one strong and brutal movement, Alfie's free hand grabbed your face, his calloused fingers sinking into your cheeks until your jaw hurt. "SAY IT AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING WINGS!" He barked, a bit of spit spilled in his beard and bloodshot eyes staring at your very soul. "See, you don't stand a chance here my sweet dove. You're just a little girl playing gangsters". In an unsettling mood swing, his temper had gone quiet again.

"I'm not gonna kill you peaky girl, that would be too easy. I see your eyes, and what I see in them is that you ain't afraid of death and I reckon this is a trait I particularly fancy in someone. So what should I do with you? We might..." He made a short pause when he noticed a tiny detail he hadn't spotted before. Alfie's hazel grey eyes abandoned yours and dropped to your bosom where he could see the round shape of your hardened nipples pointing through the fabric of your shirt. Licking his lips, Alfie's iris darkened with mischief and something you never expected to witness in the eyes of an enemy – lust. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine as the baker's smirk suddenly turned into a wicked and threatening smile, "I know, dove. I know what I'm going to do with you. Everything's clear in my mind". A sparkle of pure madness enlightened his face, just like an artist struck by inspiration. With his words followed his hand, that came meeting your trembling body. His strong palm roamed all over you, the friction it created snatching a whimper from your tight throat while you understood his obscene plans.

"No, no! Please! Alfie--" You wanted to scream but you couldn't, petrified from the moment his fingers trailed down your belly and ended their exploration between your legs. The noisy juggling of the chains you produced by struggling sounded like a melody in Alfie's ears, who hummed in satisfaction at your cunt's warmth he could feel through the fabric of your trousers. His fingers pressed a bit more against your core, shooting a wave of forbidden arousal through your entire body and making your legs shake.

"You're in heat, lil' dove." He noted with an amused tone before closing the distance between your ear and his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming scratching sensation of his gruff beard against your skin and the blazing blast of his breath. The room spun as you found yourself intoxicated by the fragrance of his cologne. Musky, and with a dab of cedarwood. His scent was as raw and wild as him. "I'm pretty sure you're all wet, aren't you?" He cooed in your ear. His rough fingers, applying pressure at the exact spot where your throbbing clit was, started to rub it in slow and circular motions. As much as you hated the thought of it, his skillful caresses lit a fire of desire within you, so much that you felt your own wetness soaking your panties, "How long since a man stretched that lonely pussy?"

"Don't touch me!" You growled, but as convincing as you had tried to sound convincing you still failed judging by how Alfie's brow arched. He let out a dark chuckle. Doing the exact opposite, his fingers kept fondling your sensitive bud but this time his wet and warm tongue licked your neck just like a predator would do to get a first taste of his freshly caught prey.

"Oh I'm not gonna touch you dove." The muffled sound of your cap falling on the concrete ground made you open your eyes again. You had barely lifted your eyelids when your gaze met Alfie's other hand, who was kneading his massive bulge. As afraid as you were, you could not help but let out a soft yet needy moan "I'm not gonna touch you. What I'm going to do cannot be described, no no it can't because I don't want God to hear it. What I can tell you though is that you'll never come back to Birmingham once you'll know the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you." His words' immediate effects upon you had your teased pussy clenching onto nothing and reminding you how desperately empty you were. An emptiness Tommy would never fill, "Are you thinking about him now?"

You weren't.

Alfie didn't need you to answer, for the way you brought your hips closer to his fingers and grind against them was enough. The mad baker's mouth sucked on the sensitive flesh of your neck, pinching it between his lips to leave a bright red mark on you, claiming his newly acquired property. All these sensations soon became unbearable: the friction of your shirt against your erected tits, the cold bite of the handcuffs on your wrists, and the increasingly faster rubbing of your clit destroyed what remained of your will of fighting. Never in your life you had been touched for you had always kept your virginity unspoiled for Thomas. A stupid and fruitless devotion.

You gave in to the pleasure and surprised yourself by thinking about how big Alfie's dick looked, unable to look anywhere else.

"Don't s-stop." You muttered under your breath, your climax building as Alfie kept assaulting your sweet bundle of nerves: he was nothing but gentle with it, almost hurting you with how rough he rubbed you. With your mouth parted and your breath quickening, you felt the delightful warmth of an orgasm coming but, all of sudden, Alfie stopped.

"Enough for today. We'll see if you deserve more tomorrow." He said.

If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.

tags: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 1 @izzy10369 @kimvolturicullen @peakyltd

[scorpiussage]

Doodles - Alfie x Y/N

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Reader

Summary: Alfie discovers something odd when reviewing paperwork.

Wordcount: (I use my notes app so I have no earthly idea lol)

Warnings: none, fluff

Alfie pauses his scan of the recent shipping manifest. Drawn in the margin is a little doodle of who he assumes to be himself, complete with a beard and his hat.

His first instinct is always to get angry, but then he finds himself chuckling. The little drawing is pretty cute and very obviously something Y/N has done.

Being as careful as his bulky fingers allow, he tears the tiny doodle out and tucks it lovingly into his top most drawer.

The whole bakery is startled by Alfie’s guffaws when he discovers the drawing of Tommy Shelby two pages later.

If you would like to send in fic prompts or ideas for Alfie or Tommy, my ask box is open.

[charliehoennam]

gentle giant

Summary: The Solomons enjoy quality family time with their young baby daughter as per request by @j23r23

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warnings: fluff, language, mentions of pregnancy and natural childbirth, oc!daughter, hints at smut

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG.

"She can't even play with that yet, Alf. She's too small" you told him when he brought home a large and lavish dollhouse, carried up to your daughter's nursery room by a couple of his men.

"Course she can't now. But, she will someday. Nothing but the best for my little Laura."

You chuckled and shook your head at his excitement, deciding to let him be happy because he genuinely was.

He has never been prouder of anything in his life.

It was needless to say that Alfie wasn't like most fathers of the time. Every day, you woke up feeling blessed and fortunate enough to be his wife.

Now, you are the mother of his child. Of his first born princess that he was already spoiling with all the finest little clothes and toys.

It's been a few months since you'd brought Laura into the world and Alfie's pride radiated as if he'd just learned he was going to be a father. Having expected the high of newfound fatherhood to fade away with late night nappy changes and early morning hungry cries, you were surprised to find that he was still so thrilled about being a father.

Not only was he proud of his little Laura, but he was still amazed beyond comprehension at your body.

During the pregnancy, he constantly marveled at the growing bump in your belly. Alfie was no fool; he understood perfectly well how a woman's body works, yet it was still the greatest miracle to him.

He never stopped calling you a Goddess for having the power to create life.

The birth of your daughter left him complete ecstasy.

Most men, especially in Jewish traditions, it was uncommon for the father to be present in the room for such a thing. But, then again, Alfie was no common man. He was always far from ordinary.

He insisted on being present to watch the miracle himself.

You'd talked about it before and assured him the midwives would take care of you. After all, he had hired the best staff to take care of you before, during and after the pregnancy.

He still continue to insist on being present - as long as you were comfortable with his presence - to watch his beloved daughter come into the world. He would've brought her out of you himself if only he knew how.

You wondered if it might have been instigated by the jealous thought of having a doctor between your legs.

You were more than grateful that he had insisted so strongly because you truly believe that, if it hadn't been for his motivating words and endearing support, you couldn't have done it by yourself.

Alfie had never cried so much in his entire life as he did when he first heard Laura's cries. You knew right away that Laura would have him wrapped around her wrinkly little finger.

And you were right.

It's late evening when Alfie comes home from an exhausting long day of work.

After hanging his hat and coat, he greets his favorite dog and heads off to search for you and his little Laura only to find you naked in the luxurious porcelain tub of your bathroom with your young 6-month-old daughter, sharing a warm bath.

"Well, ain't this a sight for sore eyes, eh?" he smirks from the doorway.

His heart warms as he sees your eyes light up.

"Baths always help her sleep better."

"Can't blame her," he nods unbuttoning his shirt. "Any room for me?"

"There's always room for you."

Of course there is. You hardly get much time to spend with your husband. The absence has him yearning for his family just the same.

He sinks into the opposite side of the tub with a tired groan, raising the water level to your swollen breasts.

"Give 'er here. Give 'er to poppa."

You carefully handed your daughter over to his hands.

Alfie holds her against his naked burly chest, kissing her head and cheeks as he informs her how much he's missed her in the softest tone.

"Daddy's missed you so much, princess. Yes, I have. Barely got see my little angel today. But that's alright, yeah? Poppa's here now, ain't he? You been good for your mother? Behaved yourself?" he questions as if she could respond, taking the small bowl to fill with water before gently pouring it over her back.

You watch leaning back against the porcelain, and admire the vulnerability of the big bad Alfie Solomons.

The word that spread around only spoke how cruel and cunning he was; of the horrors he was capable of and enjoyed inflicting upon those who betrayed him.

Yet, only you know how he could be the complete opposite. This version of him was for your eyes only and, for that, you felt blessed.

With his large hand cupped over Laura's little bare bum, he smiles as he relishes in the sounds of her giggles emitted every time he pours water over her back.

"Yeah, you like that, eh?" Alfie chuckles. "Want another go?"

She squeals happily as he repeats the action, excitedly pulling at his burly chest hair.

He yelps as he tries to unlatch her tiny fingers from his hairs.

"Got the grip of the Devil, don't she?"

"Tell that to my hair. Have to keep it up all the time so she doesn't turn me bald" you smile at him.

She giggles more enthusiastically as she pulls at them again.

"Ow! Laura, I am your father, young lady" he playfully chastises her.

"I think she takes after you."

"How so?"

"She enjoys hurting others."

"No, I enjoy hurting those who deserve it. I done nothing to deserve this" he chuckles at you.

"That's nothing compared to her biting my tits. If you think she's got hands of the Devil, try her teeth."

"They're starting to come in, innit?" he asks gently pulling her chin down to examine the two little white spots on her lower gums. "You never complained when I nibbled on them" he continues shooting a smirking glance at you.

"That was different" you chuckle back.

"I can be gentle" he replies with a wandering gaze at your chest.

"No. They're sore as fuck, Alf. They're off limits tonight."

"They're irresistible, they are. Fucking tripled in size, innit?" he chuckles. "Fucking 'ell, love. God is a cruel bloke, He is."

You laugh shaking your head. Alfie never fails to make you feel like a goddess, despite the worries you had about your changing body. It was exactly uncommon at the time for men to lose interest in their wives after pregnancy.

You'd seen many women go through it and you feared your fate would've been the same.

Thankfully, pregnancy had the opposite effect on Alfie. He was already eager to get started on the second child.

"All I'm saying is Laura will need a sibling when she's older."

Alfie's debating continued even after your shared bath. You're trying your cotton robe closed as he carries Laura into your bedroom where you had laid out her sleeping clothes beforehand.

"You say that all the time."

"Doesn't it make it less true. Besides, the fun part is trying."

Laying Laura down on the bed with a smirk, he stands upright and faces you.

The way he holds your waist has you melting under his touch. You take advantage of the moment to admire his details.

The wrinkles on his forehead, the disheveled light brown locks shining in the warm light of your room, the hairy tuffs that were peeking out from his robe.

You slide your palms up his strong arms until they rest on the back of his neck.

"Alright. I'll put her down for bed and we can have some fun time of our own" you smile sweetly at him.

His plush lips - hidden in his bushy brown beard - spread widely with mischief and excitement, infecting you with arousal as they made their way to press against your own.

You kiss him deliciously, letting his hand rest against your soft cheek. His tongue flicks against your bottom, already begging for entrance. You allow him it.

The kiss is more than enough to fuel the fire already sparked inside, in the depth of your cores. But you're both brought back to reality when Laura tiredly whines and rubs her sleepy eyes, kicking her chubby legs in the air out of frustration.

You part from Alfie's loving hold on you and bend down to scoop Laura up into your arms, assuring her everything is alright in gentle whispers.

Alfie watches how your loving nature is quick to soothe your fussy daugther in admiration. He loves watching you with her. His wife with his daughter in arms. His family.

All the words in every language would never be enough to describe the joy and pride you bring out in him.

Getting Laura to fall asleep is hardly a challenge. She was already tired from the long day and from staying up a bit past her bedtime.

Once you get her warmly dressed for the night, you sit in her nursery's rocking chair to give her one last feed.

She latches onto your nipple quickly, staring up at you with big doey eyes. The mixture of blue and gray remind you of Alfie. Her long lashes flutter as she slowly blinks, suckling for milk as she holds your index finger in her tiny hand.

You hum as you let her drink her fill, hoping to lull her sleep.

She can't resist the building sleep no matter how hard she tries. At this point, she's not even trying to drink anymore. Her eyelids grow heavier with every blink.

Gently tucking your breast back into your robe, you rest Laura's head against your shoulder as you gently pat her back to burp her.

She tries to fuss about having her favorite source of nutrition taken away, but her exhaustion dominates.

It doesn't her long to fall asleep.

Before setting Laura in her crib without stirring her too much, you kiss her head and thank the universe for blessing you such a precious little angel to care for and love.

Walking back to your room, you search Alfie but you find he's no longer there. So, you walk down the hall and the stairs in search of your husband, knowing exactly where to find him.

The office door is open as the light shines, providing the only light in the hallway. As you lean in the doorway, you smile and tap against the wooden door.

"She go down alright or put up a fuss?" Alfie smiles looking up at you from his paperwork.

"No fuss tonight. I think she was really tired." You walk into his office with a smile as you make your way towards him. "Now it's time for the grown-ups to have some fun."

Alfie smirks as his chair spins, watching you struct over to his side. His eyes scan over your frame, drinking in the sight of you as you untie your robe, letting the fabric part and shyly reveal your naked body.

"Unless you'd like to stay down here and work?"

He chuckles as he stands and kisses you tenderly, holding your face in his hands as if you're made of the most delicate and precious glass with his rough fingertips gently propping your chin up to make you face him.

"Love, the only work I've got to do is fucking you until you can't walk."