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justrainandcoffee · 2 months

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Deal (Tommy Shelby vs. oc!Solomons) + (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 1

“You're a lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf.”

Masterlist

Summary: Why is Thomas Shelby in front of Mrs. Solomons? Just business. Tommy just needs information. But first he needs to deal with Rose Solomons who, unlike her husband, has no sympathy for the man sitting in her office. And yet, they know how to make a deal. "A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby."

Warnings: Mentions of dead, killing. Allusions to sex. Mentions of physical violence. Misogyny.

Words: 4.5k. || Special thanks to @look-at-the-soul who helped me today 🙃♥️.

1924.

Yesterday

"The bastard is a fookin' ghost!" yelled Arthur.

The Garrison was empty except for those members of the Peaky Blinders, allowed to be there. There was a person that they couldn't find. An Irishman called Nicholas Baker, possible member of the IRA. Last time they saw him, it was he when he shot a blinder and left him to die in the streets. He escaped before Arthur or anyone else could catch him.

Since then, the brothers and the rest of the gang were looking for him no succeed. Not just because he killed a man they know, but also because they were sure he was a spy.

"Maybe he's dead," suggested Isaiah.

"No. He's alive and living in London." This time, Tommy Shelby's voice could be heard all over the place. "And Elias is not the only person he killed. And his real name is Sean Patrick O'Finn."

Tommy dropped a newspaper in front of his brother and Arthur read it out loud.

"His own sister! He fookin' killed his sister!"

"And tried to killed his wife as well, according to the neighbours. She escaped." Tommy sat in his usual place as he lit up a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He looked at Arthur and the rest of his men.

"We have nothing, then! He can be in middle of fookin' Russia by now." Arthur was frustrated as usual.

"I don't think so. I think he's still there in London, and as we know, police is useless. London is a big city and they don't care. People are killed every day" Tommy lit another cigarette "but I'm going to find him. And I'm going to put a bullet in his head, too."

"You don't know where to start, Tommy!" Arthur furrowed brow and look at his brother.

"Yes, I do know where to start. I need to talk to his wife."

"But do you know where this woman is, Tom?"

"Yes."

The Solomons residence in London was quiet. Rose was working and Alfie just arrived there over an hour ago. He was about to rest his back in bed when their maid announced that he had a call.

"It's Mr. Shelby," the woman said. She saw him do a grimace, but he said nothing to her.

"Thanks, Doris."

Alfie entered his office and closed the door behind before picking up the phone. Every time Tommy called it meant problems, usually for him. But this time what Tommy said, took him by surprise.

"Are ya mad?"

"I just need her this time, Alfie."

"She will kill ya, mate."

"No, she won't. Your wife isn't a killer."

"Maybe. But the women around her are. Honestly, Tom, they're a pack of fuckin' bloody wolves claiming for men flesh. You're a little lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf. Rosie is the leader of that pack, if she gives the order next time I'll see ya it'll be in your own fuckin' funeral... If I find your body." On the other side of the line, Tommy opened a drawer and picked up some papers and started to take some notes. Sometimes Alfie exaggerated, especially if he was talking about his wife. As far as Tommy knew, Rose Solomons just worked helping women in need and in the streets fighting for equal rights. The few times he saw her in Alfie's place she didn't seem to be a menace to anyone.

"They're just women, eh?"

"My Rosie isn't just a woman, Tommy. She's me wife." Alfie sighed "Rosie will decorate the fuckin' Christmas tree they put on her workplace with your balls."

"I'll take a risk, then. Just wanted to inform you."

"Fine. But I'm not going to tell her yet. I prefer she knows it on her own… good luck then, Tom."

1924.

Today. London.

It's only 7am and the Solomons were making love for the second time in the morning. Rose didn't know what her husband was thinking, or feeling, that he had waking up so passionated but she wasn't complaining either.

"Alfie… I can't… god…" her back arched and her toes curled once last time until she fell on the mattress, completely satisfied. She could feel Alfie finish as well.

The man stayed on top of her few minutes more, catching his breath, before rolling on his back, laying next to her. Alfie opened his arms and invited her to be against his chest.

"Are you fine?" she asked kissing his neck.

"Feelin' like a God now, luv. Why do ya ask? You're talking like we never fuck like this before."

"I ask, because I know that sometimes you use sex to channel your frustrations and I just want to know you're fine."

"I'm perfect, Rosie. Gimme some time and we can repeat it."

She laughed. "No way you still have energy, Al. I can't, I've to work. Tonight, maybe."

In response, Alfie kissed her. That same night, probably she wants to kill him. He had talked to Tommy the day before and she didn't know. Alfie was just trying his best to calm her before the storm. Although spending time with her, it was always beautiful. The kiss continued until she pulled apart slowly. He caressed her cheek. Rose knew that Alfie definitely was hiding something from her, but she didn't know what. After one last brief kiss, she sat down in bed and then walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Alfie stayed in bed, thinking about his friend going to his wife's place. In all those years, over a decade since it was founded, he visited her school just twice. Once when it was inaugurated, when they met each other again, and the other one after the war. They had an implicit deal: "You don't interfere with my business and I don't interfere with yours" even if they asked each other for some advice, suggestions or help. He was a bit worried about her, even when he knew that Tommy wasn't going to hurt her.

When Rose went out the bathroom, she found him sitting in bed, stretching his back, ready to have breakfast. She approached him and played gently with his hair.

"Thought you're going to join the shower."

Alfie put his hands on her hips and pushed her down on his knees. She was wrapped with a towel and when Alfie kissed her shoulder, he smelled the fresh soap on her skin.

"Ya didn't invited me."

"Since when you need invitation?" she chuckled and put her arms around him. Her hands were stroking the back of his neck. Rose was staring at him, "are you sure you're fine?"

"I am, Rosie."

"Okay," she didn't believe him, but she wasn't going to pressure him either. Instead, she kissed him and he reciprocate immediately. Her towel fell on the floor and she felt him ready to be with her once more.

Never two without three.

Arrow house

By the dawn of the next day, every Shelby knew where the leader was going. If they had any opinion about it, they didn't share it. A car was parked outside Arrow House with three men in it.

"I'm going now," announced Tommy. His black coat was over a chair and he took it. "Johnny Dogs and the Smiths are coming with me."

Arthur chuckled. "Johnny Dogs? And the Smith brothers? Ain't too much, Tom? Four men to visit just a bunch of pussies and tits? They're just chicks."

"Not according to Alfie."

"According to fookin' Alfie! The fookin' Alfie! Ya believe him?"

"Yes. Alfie will never allow me to be near his wife, if he didn't know now that she's safe. I know that. And if she's safe that means she's surrounded by an army."

"Are ya planning to kill them?"

"I don't kill women, Arthur. And I don't want problems with Alfie. It's just in case."

"So take me with ya!"

"Arthur, no offense but you don't know how to deal with a Solomons. Stay here and take care of the business, eh? I'll be back at night, probably or tomorrow."

"Tom! Tommy!" the eldest brother yelled but the other man already reached the door.

"Goodbye, Arthur. Tell Pol, that I left her a letter under the flowerpot."

Pebblebrock was Rose Solomons' former manor and prison hell at the same time. Now it was a beautiful school for girls and at the same time it served as a roof for some women who had run from their abusive homes.

As the owner, she was the one in charge even when she had several women in which she trusted working with her side by side. But the final decision on everything was always hers.

Alfie, and Tommy too, were right. The place and Rose, were surrounded by women specifically trained to kill. It wasn't uncommon for men to try to reach those who they already hurt. The rules were crystal clear MEN ARE NOT ALLOWED IN PEBBLEBROCK. The ones who didn't understand the warning were now resting eternally in a cemetery.

Men were only allowed if they were doctors or priests. The institution had nurses and two nuns who volunteered to help there. But sometimes a doctor was required, same with priests. Any other men should call for an appointment, only under that circumstances their entrance were allowed.

"Look at this fucking place."

From the road, Tommy, Johnny Dogs and the Smith brothers were watching the entire property. The gardens extended beyond their sight.

"Full of pussies, it's my fucking paradise. An all-you-can-eat-fucking restaurant" commented Gregory Smith. Except Tommy, the rest of them laughed.

Rose heard the crows. That was never a good signal.

"Now who?" she thought for herself. A lot of names crossed her mind, but none of them was the right answer.

Five minutes later a knock on her office's door brought the answer.

"Who?" she asked not believing her ears.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby, Mrs. Solomons" repeated the woman in front of her. "He says he needs you."

"The Thomas Shelby?"

But unaware of who he was the other woman didn't respond.

"Yeah, well. Tell him I'm coming."

"There are three other men with him, Mrs. Solomons."

Of course.

The day was beautiful. Cloudless sky and almost no wind. It'd be perfect if not for Tommy Shelby in her property.

"Didn't you read the sign?" she said greeting them "men are not allowed here."

"Good morning, Mrs. Solomons," said Tommy with deep voice.

"It is, Tommy. It is."

It always was intrigued him that a man like Alfie could be so devoted to a woman who barely reached his shoulders. His Rosie. Alfie Solomons could start a war against the king and the Pope if something happened to that woman.

Gregory Smith had another idea.

"We don't follow rules, sweetheart. We're the peaky fucking blinders."

"The Peaky who?" Rose looked at the man "Who the fuck are you?"

"The audacity of this bitch. It's a Solomons, eh?"

"Gregory…" warned Tommy.

"Yeah. I'm a Solomons. Proud of it. But I'm quite dumb, Gregory. So I need your help, I only know how to count to two. Like, one, two… what's next?"

"Three."

BANG.

A woman stading behind Rose was holding a gun.

The bullet impacted his head. The man was already dead when his body collapsed on the ground. Rose just looked her pocket watch and then clicked her tongue.

"Men are not allowed here," she repeated. "You understand the warnings now or you what to be the next?"

Tommy looked at the dead body. The blonde woman behind Rose was staring at him and Tommy knew that she wasn't joking. One more step and it couldn't be any difference between a Gruyère cheese and him.

Tommy sent Johnny Dogs and the remaining man again to the car. He also gave his gun to his friend.

"Ya sure, Tom?"

"Just go, Johnny."

When Tommy turned around again, he saw the woman extending her arm, she moved her hand "gimme the fucking cap."

Again, Tommy did what she said. She gestured him to follow her.

The interior of her office was elegantly decorated. An expensive rug on the floor matched the wallpaper and the mahogany desk. Lots of books were perfectly ordered on the bookshelves. Rose Solomons invited him to take seat on one of her velvety armchairs. Tommy followed her with his eyes. Now his cap was over the head of a marble bust representing Aphrodite, just behind her, looking at him. The woman sat behind her desk and put her hands under her chin.

"We have a beautiful garden here. A greenhouse full of exotic flowers and plants. Was your man married? I'd like to send the widow some flowers."

"He wasn't."

"Better, then."

Her brown eyes never leave his blue ones and same as Alfie, he felt she was trying to anticipate his movements. But Tommy didn't express any emotion.

"So? What the hell is doing Thomas Michael Shelby here? My husband isn't here."

"Not looking for Alfie."

"That's fucking new considering the mutual obsession you have with each other."

Tommy curved his lips, barely smiling. "I'm here purely for business, Mrs. Solomons."

"I'm not the kind of person you do business with."

"You are."

Both of them remained in silence for several seconds. Probably she was unaware of it, but Tommy noticed some mannerisms in her that he had witnessed in Alfie before. She was thinking while playing with her fingers. Impossible to say who copied who.

"What kind of business? Illegality has no place here," she finally said.

"I need to know where a certain man is."

Before she could say something Tommy saw the door opening and a beautiful woman in her mid-forties, entered Mrs. Solomons' office. She greeted him with a movement of her head and then started to talk to Rose in French but she stopped her almost immediately.

"This isn't going to work now, Geraldine. The man knows french," she said pointing to him "same as Alfie he fought in France during years. Tell Edith to come. She speaks Hebrew."

Geraldine nodded before leaving again.

"You do that often? Speaking other language in front of strangers?" Tommy settled in the armchair.

"Don't you do the same? I'm sure that speaking Romani is very useful if you want to express something to a friend or relative but you don't want the other to know what are you saying. Don't judge me, Mr. Shelby."

Edith, Tommy asummed it was her, was barely in her 20s, probably she was still a teen. Young and with a cheerful face, the girl approached Mrs. Solomons and both of them started to talk in Hebrew, a language he couldn't understand. For a moment, Rose looked at him sideways.

"Thanks, Edith" she said and the girl left without looking at Tommy. "One of your men tried to sneak in my school. Or they're fucking dumbs or they're really ready to visit God."

"Fucking hell…" Tommy rolled his eyes before breathing deeply. He was sure it wasn't Johnny Dogs but the other Smith. "Listen, Mrs. Solomons, I didn't give the order. I didn't know."

"I know, he acted by his own. Good news is he's alive. Bad news is my girls are taking care of him. It depends on you what I'm going to do with him. Alfie knew you were coming, didn't he?"

"I called him yesterday."

Rose sighed "Yes, of course he knew. Of course he fucking knew," his actions that morning now it made sense to her. Not because it wasn't unsual for them to have sex in the morning, but because there was something in his eyes that his mouth wasn't saying. And after all those years together, Rose knew him very well. "Anyway… what do you want do with your man, Mr. Shelby?"

"Can I smoke?"

"If you go next to the window and put your hand with the cigarette out, I don't have any problem. But I don't want smoke here."

She saw how he stood up and walked towards the window. That one in particular faced one of the gardens where the rosebushes were. In spring and summer, the sweet smell of roses invaded her office and it was something that she really liked.

When that morning Arthur asked him why he took three men with him just to visiting a school and women's residence, Tommy was exploring his chances. Better Gregory Smith than him. He trusted Johnny Dogs, he was a loyal, obedient man. But the Smiths…

"Kill him if you want," Tommy finally said "if my man can't follow my orders, then he should face the consequences. This is your place after all, Mrs. Solomons."

"Edith told me he was screaming that he wanted to avenge his brother."

"Yes. The one you kill it was his brother." Tommy glanced at her. A ghost of a smile was on his face.

"I never killed anyone, Mr. Shelby."

"You don't need to hold a gun and shoot to be a murderer. Most of the murderers just give the order behind their desks."

"Well, he'd be alive if he hadn't been an asshole. It's all about the rules, Mr. Shelby. The sign is there for a reason and if you ask me, you don't seem very concerned about your man's death."

"Rules, eh? Something tells me you're not very fond to follow them, either, Mrs. Solomons. How was the prison?" Tommy blew another puff of smoke out the window, but kept looking at her.

"Pretty cold. Full of cooties and rats. I named one in your honour, that's a tradition that we the Solomons have. Name a goat, name a rat… How's Arfah, by the way? Alfie misses him."

"Thanks for the honour, Mrs. Solomons. Arthur wanted to come. I told him he doesn't know how to deal with a Solomons."

"Oh," she grinned. "And you do?"

"I'm pretty confident about it. It worked in the past."

"I have no doubts about it. But I'm not my husband, Mr. Shelby. I don't fall for a pair of blue eyes and a chiseled face and most of all, I don't trust men."

Tommy threw the remaining of his cigarette in a basket that was there and walked again to the seat in front of her. He crossed his legs and rested his hands over his stomach.

"Do you want to fuck me, Mrs. Solomons?"

"Yes. Just bring me a bottle of cyanide to accompany the moment. And then I want to hug a black mamba. Your place or mine?"

Tommy chuckled. "Wherever you prefer, sweetheart."

Far away from being intimidated by the confidence he was exuding, Rose just scratched her chin.

"Alfie accepted? I mean, if this is the way you deal with a Solomons..."

"Never asked."

"Oh, you should have. The answer maybe could suprise you. But, let me tell you something, Tommy. Can I call you Tommy?" he nodded. Rose left her armchair and approached the man. He followed her with his eyes. Her face was now in front of his, their noses were touching. Both pair of eyes were staring at each other. Tommy felt her breath on his skin "I know who you are, Tommy. Reputation precedes you. I know how you do business with women. But here's the thing: I'm not them. And yes, I'm a Solomons, yes Alfie and I we have lot of similarities. But I'm not Alfie. I'm not interesting in you as a man and if your cock is the only thing you have to offer me, you're wasting your time here… sweetheart." Rose inhaled deeply "God! I never killed anyone, but I swear the devil keep tempting me. How about having your head as a trophy hunting hanging on this office? But…" Rose moved her head back again "as I said, I'm not a murderer."

"Alfie is a lucky man, Mrs. Solomons," Tommy said once she returned to her seat behind the desk.

"Is he?" She tilted her head.

"Believe me." Tommy straighted on his armchair "and I'm sure If something happens to him, I'm sure you're going to heard the devil that keeps telling you to kill someone."

"Be sure of that. If anything happens to my Alfie, the only one who can stop me is Alfie himself. I hope nothing happens to him, EVER. You know about it, don't you?. Your late wife, we knew what happened. I can't imagine the pain."

"No, you can't imagine. But I'm getting over it." Tommy cleared his throat "Mrs. Solomons, I need information."

"In exchange of…"

"Mutual respect."

Rose snorted. "Yes, sure. Alfie could be delighted when I tell him. Information means business, Mr. Shelby. And whiskey is for business, innit?"

She opened a cabinet in her desk and put a bottle of whiskey with the Solomons logo on it. Behind her, were two glasses that she grabbed. A rose was engraved on them.

"I didn't know you drink," he said.

"Only in very few occasions. I prefer just tea for the rest of the day. So? You tell me."

Tommy drank a sip of whiskey before talking again. In his mind the image of Elias dead on the streets of Small Heath appeared again. Contrary to Gregory Smith, Elias was a good man. Her widow was pregnant and a payroll wasn't enough for the woman to compensate her for her husband's death. Yet, it was the only thing that Tommy could do.

"I'm looking for Mrs. Baker."

"There are several, Tommy. It's a very common name. Any details?

"It's an Irishwoman. I don't know her appearance but her husband killed her sister-in-law. It means his own sister."

"Sonia," mumbled her, "but the last name isn't Baker. It's O'Finn. Although she said that prefers her own surname. I'm going to keep that information to me until you tell me what the hell is going on."

From the murdered committed in Birmingham to the one in London's underground. Tommy told her about his suspicions that O'Finn was a member of the IRA and how he, Tommy, was now a target of them. Again.

"If that's true," she replied "then no matter what, your head already had a price and it's not going to be me the one hanging it on my office, but them. Nowadays it's very easy to send a message to the other side of the map. A telegram or a phone call… I don't understand why do you want to talk to this woman if he already communicated with his people."

"Because I don't think he did that. He's hiding. He's a fucking rat."

"Ok. Well, there's a lot of problems first. Mrs. O'Finn, she's not in conditions to talk. Even if she can, you're not allowed to be near her and this is not negotiable. These women are under my wing. Not you, not fucking Churchill can be near them. I don't give a fuck if you bring an order from the fucking president of I-don't-know-where. Understood? I have women specialized in talk to women with the kind of trauma that Sonia has, so, think about twice before suggesting another way to do this."

"The less people know about it, the better, Rose."

She pointed to the door, silently. Tommy sighed. "Fine. But I prefer that you can be present. And me too. Or at least I want to hear everything by myself."

"Agree. We have a place we can use. I need to tell you, or better say, reminder you that Sonia is highly traumatized. Yes, she's alive but the price she paid…" Rose stood up again but this time she walked to one of her bookshelves and picked up a carpet, although to do it she had to climb a ladder. "Tommy, I don't have this rule of "men aren't allowed" just because I'm fucking misandristic bitch, I'm not. I believe in equal rights. I fight for equality. I have that sign because people here, women, kids… are afraid of your kind. I have a register for every single woman that lived here since 1911 when I inaugurated this place. Open the folder."

Tommy obeyed and his first reaction was exactly what Rose hoped to get "Shit…"

The first page was the document of a woman who lived there in 1914 before volunteering as nurse in France, Rose never saw her again. Her name was Rita Brown, 20 years old. She escaped from her house because her father was an abuser. He ended up cutting her face marking a cross on her.

"I don't allow men, because we don't know what kind of bastard will cross that gate. Your man, that Gregory, he's not the first. Dozens before him, I'm genuinely surprised that if you talked to Alfie yesterday he didn't mention my women."

"He did."

"So you knew."

Tommy nodded and Rose studying his face laughed . Suddenly she understood. "You bring this bastard on purpose! You fucking did! You wanted him dead. Fucking hell, Tommy. I heard things a lot of things about you and I'm still impressed. The brother, too? You wanted me to rid off the other guy, too?"

"Why not?"

"Fine. I don't give a shit. One less." She returned to her seat and rang a bell. The same young girl called Edith appeared. Both of them talked in Hebrew again and Edith went out again once they finished. "We have an agreement, it seems. Now my payment."

Tommy opened his coat and placed two payrolls on her desk.

"I appreciate the effort," she said no looking at the money. "But I'm not interested it in cash, although if you don't want it. I can use it to buy something for the school like a new piano for the girls and some violins. A donation."

"I don't want it," he confirmed "then what's your price, Mrs. Solomons?"

"A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby. I want a man dead."

"Who?"

"Churchill's right hand man."

Next part.

...so? 👀

#alfie solomons #tommy shelby #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x ofc #peaky blinders #tom hardy #peaky blinders x oc #alfie x rose #Thomas Shelby #cillian Murphy

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loulouwrites · 1 month

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HOME . ALFIE SOLOMONS

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

The days were too fucking long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Daddy's home!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Stop swearing in front of the children."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wish you weren't."

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

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

I wish you weren't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just give me a fucking reason.

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

But not tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

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

I wish you weren't.

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

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

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

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

"Why are you making him do all that?"

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

"Excuse me?"

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

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

He didn't try to stop her from leaving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So am I, son."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 3 months

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About Alfie:

I know this is a tricky subject, I’m only expressing a lil’ thought here. I think it’s interesting how few of us think that our OC or reader-insert could or should convert to Judaism if they married Alfie. We never remove his heritage from Alfie as we write him, but it feels like we do when it comes to courtship and relationships.

He’s certainly a sinner, but he’s very proud to be Jewish. Very protective of his community, even as a criminal. Even if Alfie loved a woman, I think he would hesitate to officially marry her unless she was already Jewish or had converted. And with the time period, it was a MUCH bigger deal to marry two people of different faiths. I think that’s something we take for granted a bit.

Do I think he would ever say “Convert, or this is over”? No! But he wouldn’t sacrifice his own principles or faith for another person. His lover would likely remain just a lover. Probably wouldn’t let his mom know about her.

Just my opinion there.

I personally haven’t seen a detailed conversion scenario happen in any Alfie fics, though I plan on writing that after doing more research. Obviously, everyone write what you like! I just think it’s an under-explored scenario.

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders headcanon #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x reader

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call-sign-shark · 10 months

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Under the Willow Tree ||Alfie Solomons x OC (letters)

Summary: While he was roaming through paper works in his office, Alfie Solomons finds an unopened letter by chance. A letter written by his wife when he was fighting for his life at the hospital after his violent encounter with Thomas Shelby. Alfie still decides to write a reply... Unfortunately, he loses it before he can hand it to his Mrs. Solomons.

Notes: Letters exchange written for @raincoffeeandfandoms' event "The Peaky Receives Letters". The first letter was written by Flor (@raincoffeeandfandoms) herself, and Alfie's answer is mine. Hope I did a good job at portraying your sweet Alfie!

My dearest love, Alfie.

It's been two whole days since Thomas shot you. You're lying here in bed, surrounded by doctors and nurses who don't know if you'll recover or not. I haven't slept in 48 hours and I don't know if I will be able to again, not while you are there.

I write this letter in the hope that I will be able to tell you all this in person when you wake up. I have spoken to you as you lie there, but I can't tell if you can hear me or not. And the anguish inside me, it needs to come out. I've told myself that I have to be strong that I have to be fighting by your side, like we always did, but I don't always have the strength. And I'm so tired.

I decided, instead, to remember nice moments we spent together. There's a memory I have of us when we were 17, maybe you've already forgotten about it. You were already in charge of the bakery where you started working at 14 and you were starting to get interested in having your own "bakery". You always called the business you really wanted to get involved in that way, I guess it was easier to call it that, than calling it an illegal distillery. I always thought it was funny, even today.

We had gone on a picnic day in the middle of spring. We had brought apples and several of those little cakes you used to bake. We had planned everything and the day couldn't have been more perfect. I remember the sun was shining and I remember the tree we sat under. It was a willow tree whose branches touched the stream in front of which we were sitting.

I think the day was beautiful, at least is how I remember it. There were even ducks that we also fed. We hadn't been able to have a date like that in a long time because we were both working and really needed some time alone. Do you remember? We could barely see each other in the evenings. And sometimes not even that.

At first, it was beautiful. The food and you was all I wanted. But the things started to go wrong when we got distracted and the ants decided they wanted your pies, too. You were so angry with them! But we couldn't do nothing because, of course, they outnumbered us. So we moved from there, because it was a war we couldn't win. There was another tree, so we went under that one. But it happened that we never saw the beehive. The bees were not happy with us. The way we run! We abandoned the basket and the remaining food there. Probably the ducks ate the rest. Our date next to the stream was terrible. I remember you were mad, because you couldn't give me the perfect date you wanted. But to me, it was perfect. I laughed a lot after that.

We have shared so many things like this, Al, and I know we have to keep making memories because we can't end up like this. I can't let the one person I loved my whole life, my first kiss, my first love, to die because of a bullet from Thomas Shelby. I know you'll survive.

I'll leave the letter in a drawer, hoping I'll never have to write another one like this one.

I hear voices, what's happening? They're coming from the room where you are. It sounds like your voice. Is it possible? Or is the lack of sleep making me hallucinate? I'll go and see. My heart is beating so fast…

Yours, always.

Rosie.

Ahuvi sheli,

As I was looking for some tedious paperwork, I found your letter by chance, hidden under the mess on my desk. I know this terrible event is far behind us now and that you are peacefully sleeping on the couch, snuggling against Cyril by the fire. Still, I can’t resolve myself to let this heartbreaking letter without any answer. You’ve opened your heart by writing this, so let me ink mine on the back of this same paper.

When I was laying in a pit of darkness, trapped in the flesh prison of my own body, I felt Death’s presence creeping in the shadow, waiting for me to stop fighting so that It could take me away from you. Fear paralyzing me, fatigue eating up my remaining strength, I was convinced I would die here without being able to kiss your honey lips goodbye… My heart ached at this sole thought. But then, I heard your wonderful and enchanting voice talking to me in this dull hospital room, and suddenly the thick darkness was not there anymore. I felt the sweet caress of sun rays warming up my skin and I smelled the intoxicating fragrances of your floral perfume — the last one I gifted you for our anniversary. And there I was, near the mighty willow tree we would sit by when we were 17. Even though I was alone, I could still hear you talking to me from a faraway distance. Each word, each sigh, each sob… I held onto them, finding strength in your love until I could finally reopen my eyes.

You always compliment how tough I am — both physically and mentally. Whether I am carrying huge bags of flour or handling the Shelby and Sabini’s situations. I usually answer that the strongest of us was you. After all, you were the one who kept fighting after the awful years these Evert bastards had made you undergo. I would gladly tell you that I would piss on Lawrence’s grave but since it is a letter I guess I should remain polite. Yet, despite how strong you are, I am deeply sorry for worrying you and involuntarily making you suffer after that cunt Tommy Shelby shot my fucking face. Living with the fact I caused your tears to run down your sweet face will be the bane of my existence, but I promise to make amend for all the sorrow I caused you.

Rosie, my beloved flower, what is the willow tree without your elegant frame? What are the birds’ whistles without the symphony of your adorable laugh? What is Alfie Solomons without Rose? Fucking nothing. And since I’ve risen back from the dead to pull you in my arms, let me write down our latest wonderful moment that happened yesterday: You were in the kitchen, sitting at the table with the tip of your pen trapped between your gorgeous lips. The more you flipped the pages, the more you were getting angry because you could not decipher my admittedly awful handwriting. I tried to make you laugh but you were not in the mood, and at some point, you thought I was so annoying that you threw a bit of flour at me without being aware of the consequences… We looked at each other silently for a few seconds, and then the same thought crossed our minds. We rushed to the nearest bag of flour and proceeded to turn our kitchen into a battlefield of white powder. You laughed! Oh, you laughed so much that diamond tears ran down your pinkish cheeks.

You laughed, my little Rose, and I fell in love with you again for the hundredth time.

Don’t fear the voices you might hear, they are just the murmurs of my soul whispering to yours how much I love you. Also, Fuck Tommy and his little bitchass bullets — this prick can’t even aim— for nothing will take me away from you.

Forever yours, mind, body, and soul,

Alfie.

Tag list:

@runnning-outof-time

@shelbydelrey

@there-goes-thefighter

@cljordan-imperium

@dandelionprints

@zablife

@raincoffeeandfandoms

@look-at-the-soul

#alfie solomons #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x oc #Rose solomons #the peaky receives a letter #peaky blinders x oc #Alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fanfic

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kikheda · 1 year

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Alfie Solomons SMUT Oneshot

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

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

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

Words: 2364

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 2

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

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runnning-outof-time · 3 months

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“How come you’re not in any of the pictures, Alfie?” … “Cause I can’t compete with you or the views, Rose.”

Alfie and Rose decide to take a winter getaway to Iceland once the travel restrictions are lifted. When Rose goes back through the photos taken of all of the wonderful sights, she finds that Alfie wasn’t in any of them. Of course Alfie had a reason for that.

———

For the lovely Flor @raincoffeeandfandoms — I had to make a little something for Rose and Alfie because I miss seeing them on my dash … I’ll just pretend that the modern couple was away on a little vacation and that’s why we hadn’t heard from them. I hope you like it! 🧡

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #alfie x rose #rolfie #alfie solomons moodboard #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinders moodboard #k makes moodboards

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 years

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Alfie Solomons Masterlist

Ride the Bull (Alfie Solomons/Reader)

היץ (Heat) (Alfie Solomons/Reader, sequel to Ride the Bull)

The Queen of Camden (Alfie Solomons/Reader, third part of Ride the Bull mini series)

Dirty Bliss (for the Tell Me Your Fantasy feature, Alfie/Reader)

Say it Dirty (for the Tell Me Your Fantasy feature, Alfie/Reader)

~*~Drabbles & Shorts~*~

Spicy Wednesday (Alfie/Reader)

Alfie motherfucking Solomons (Alfie/Reader)

His Hands (Alfie/Reader)

Fervid (Alfie/Reader)

Temple (Alfie/Reader)

Gripped (Alfie/Reader)

Prompt short - “I want to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” (Alfie/Reader)

Sweet Surrender (Alfie Solomons/Reader)

Beast (Alfie Solomons/Reader)

Not One of Many (AU Alfie Solomons/OC) - Story complete

Masterlist

Happy Hanukkah-Mas! (A Beth and Alfie one shot special)

For The Love of Dogs (Beth/Alfie one shot)

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daenakills · 1 year

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Just an Accident.

Tommy shelby x Original Female Character, Alfie Solomons x Original Female character. (it also works like reader cuz she doesn't have any descriptions or name)

Warning: mentions of smut, cheating, unhappy marriage, thomas being kinda neglectful.

This is planned to be a series.

The only thing she felt was regret. She regretted marrying him, but she regretted even more that she had fallen madly in love with him.

She thought that while she was in bed, not expecting him since he used to go off with one of his whores.

The truth was that she did not suffer anymore, it no longer hurt that he was with those women. She thought that she still remembers the first time she found out about it.

She was talking with her friends while they were having tea, sometimes they talked about other women and her husbands but she didn't really like talking about that. Her group of friends was short and reduced by her husband, after all it was normal that not everyone wanted to be her friend.

"Have you heard about poor Amy? They say her husband left her for another woman. She still lives in her house and they are married but it's obviously not the same anymore." one of her friends said.

"Poor her. Although, you know, we're not too far from women like that."

"What are you talking about?" she said, stunned, since she didn't know of anyone else to whom something similar happened.

"Not to be cruel or anything but, honey, lately your husband has been seen with whores."

She didn't know what to answer, she felt dizzy and nauseated, but she still had questions to ask.

"Since when? Since when have you seen him?"

"Ever since you had your son, they've been seeing him on those wanderings ever since."

She began to cry, and cry.

I was dying but since they didn't see blood they didn't care.

Her friends comforted her with little whispers that told her not to cry, that he didn't deserve her and that all marriages go through crises.

She now remembered that moment and she felt sad, only that it was no longer because of that constant infidelity but because of her own misery and instability. She was not just sad, but pathetic.

She remembered that she thought that she would never be happy again, and that she would never be the same. Although she was correct in that, she would never be the same again.

She remembered the days after the news, the resentment that she had towards that man who at some point came to defend in all arguments with cloak and sword. He was reading. It was ironic that he was so peaceful while she was going through the most difficult time of her life.

"It's good that you arrived. How are the children?" he said in his bid for a decent conversation.

She decided to ignore him, after all it wasn't worth yelling at him and claiming him, although she would love to do it.

"Well, they are taking their classes among other things, although they would like to see you sometime."

"They must understand that I'm not always going to be there for them, I have work to do and they're supposed to understand that they have you"

I had five hundred things to say to him, but I said nothing.

She didn't said anything. Absolutely nothing, that was the moment when she realized that it was not worth trying to talk to that man.

Morning already. She did not realize the moment in which she was lost in dreams. She followed her routine neatly, she did exactly the same thing she did every day when she woke up.

Obviously she realized that Thomas hadn't slept with her, he probably would have slept somewhere else, in another part of the house or in some woman's bed. There were too many options.

This time she decided to do something different.

She was going to a party without Tommy. Still she knew he probably wouldn't really care, he would scold her and complain but she knew he didn't care.

I already accepted it but it still makes me sad.

Although she would do that at night, when she no longer had any obligation as such.

It was already night and she already had her dress on, she had already asked for a ride so transportation would not be a problem this time. As she sat in the car she thought about how the night would be.

Upon her arrival, her friends greeted her, obviously surprised that she wasn't there with him.

Although they really did know that she wasn't with him, they just didn't expect her to come.

"What do you tell me? Is there new news?"

"Well let me tell you, if there's actually any new news, you're one of it. What surprised us before you got here is that Tommy is with another woman right now." Said one of them.

"What?" She started looking around for Thomas and found him, he was there with a woman next to her while she was talking to a man. She had recognized the man she was talking to, she just didn't recognize the girl he was with at all.

It was obvious to her that he had not seen her, she understood it, surely he thought that she had stayed at home following her miserable routine.

"It doesn't matter." She said "I'll have fun without him tonight"

"But I don't think you'll be approached by anyone, you know? No one wants to get in trouble with your husband." She was right, she should find a way to have fun without problems.

"Well, how about we go drink something? I do not know. I'd like to have fun like I did when I was a teenager." Her friends accepted and went to drink a little.

That was one of the last things she remembered.

By the time they got to the bar and their drinks were brought, everything was a blur. It was obvious that she had gotten drunk, she knew that much.

What she didn't know was when she got to her house. She didn't know when she had slept with a man either, she knew it wasn't Thomas.

When she woke up, she could only see his back because of the position he was in, she felt her curiosity consuming her quickly. She needed to see who that man was.

When she got out of bed she knew exactly who he was.

It was Alfie Solomons.

Her husband hadn't known him for a long time and they weren't friends, Thomas never told her anything about business so she really had no idea what kind of relationship the two had.

She tried to wake him up, failing 3 times. She started changing her clothes while she was thinking about how she could have slept with him.

She started to check herself and she realized that he had left her covered with bruises on her legs. She was grateful that she hadn't left anything around her neck, at least so she could hide it. She decided to go to the dining room to have breakfast, finding no one.

Thomas wasn't there.

Nobody was there.

She went to call her children to come eat, something she commonly did, she liked that the first thing her children saw was her. As they ate she kept wondering why life had put Alfie in her way, and how it would turn out.

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x female reader #alfie solomons x oc #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #smut #no use of y/n

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evita-shelby · 9 months

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A witch and a rose

A second gift for Flor/@raincoffeeandfandoms , it was supposed to be wacky kid shenanigans, but then Eva demanded she be writtwn seriously, and i couldn't get her out of there.

I hope you like it

Cw: mentions of Tommy’s depression and suicidal thoughts

Gif by @hellomadelene

1930

For Allie Solomons’ sixth birthday, Tommy had agreed to arrange ponies and horses for the girls to ride by the beach.

As if the antique dollhouse was not gift enough, he had complained when his witch of a wife asked, no, told him they were going take horses to Margate.

“Diane told Allie about her pony on their playdate, so I thought it would be nice for you to let the poor little girl get a pony ride for her birthday.” Eva answered his unspoken question as she was fond of doing before handing him baby Florence as she made damn sure the older children understood they were to be on their best behavior.

After Tommy shot him, Alfie had lost some of his looks.

What the bullet with his name hadn’t finished, was slowly being taken over by his skin cancer.

Did this horrify his children?

Absolutely not.

Like their mother and father, they had inherited an unnatural fascination with the scary and not so pretty aspects of life.

Five-year-old Diane and four year old Gabriel, in their last playdate, had schemed to touch Uncle Alfie’s face and, even worse, done it.

Tommy had hoped Alfie would have scared them into not doing it again ---Tommy didn’t know enough about his condition to know if it was contagious, he just knew its just something you don’t do--- but he just laughed and let them satisfy their curiosity.

“Why do I have to go. They are all babies.” Eight-year-old Charlie complained as he took his seat behind him.

Been a while since they went anywhere as a family.

Eva tried her best to pry him away from work after Polly’s death and his suicide attempts.

Went as far as using her friendship with Rose Solomons to get him to leave the house and the woods.

“Because we will be staying at Margate for the weekend, it will be fun, Carlitos.” Eva said hoping to get the boy to stop pouting. “Besides they’ll be plenty of boys for you to play with, Allie’s cousins will be there.”

“Will Auntie Florence be there?” Dia asked climbing after her brother.

She likes being in the middle, makes it a fucking pain on long drives because she has the bladder of a hummingbird.

“Yes, but we are calling her Esther when we are there.” He reminded her as he made up a lie as to why they can’t call her by Florence or her birth name, Frida. “So we don’t confuse her with the baby.”

How do you tell your children Auntie Florence was a spy and assassin who changed identities like one changes underwear?

“And for your Aunt Polly’s sake, please don’t touch Uncle Alfie’s face without permission.”

The fact that they get there with no accidents is a miracle in itself.

Sometimes the children’s noises cause Tommy to lose his patience which lead to four crying children or worse, Tommy having an episode.

Tommy had suffered since that night.

Margate will do them good, Eva thinks.

Besides, it would help patch things up between her and Rose after they fought when they last saw each other in London.

Rose had called her a sellout when she saw that Eva and Tommy would be budding up to Mosley and the New Party.

Did Rose wait for Eva to explain what Alfie already knew?

No.

Could Eva not have used her daughter’s sixth birthday to tell her they were spying on the fascists to make sure the party never takes off?

Yes, but chances are Rose Coldwell-Solomons wouldn’t hear her out.

It had been a highly likely friendship, both women had strong opinions, valued freedom and most importantly, did not hesitate to make themselves heard.

Sure, it had been awkward when Eva had a whooping four children while Rose struggled with her infertility, but they had made it through those tentative moments and come out the better for it.

And then they had the worst fight after the kids’ playdate ended.

Rose had not been told that the Shelbys flirting with fascism was a cover. Alfie knew, hence why he had agreed to provide a distraction to have Mosley assassinated last January, but it seems no one had told his wife.

To her they were traitors and the worst sort of people.

They had said things, they had burned the metaphorical bridge they stood on and before she could regain her senses, Rose had ended their friendship and left without ever looking back.

Now she was here with gifts and knowing Florence Solomons had her back should Rose try to toss her out on her ass.

“I am not a child; you can’t bribe me with gifts.” Rose crossed her arms once they had had a moment alone in her kitchen.

They’d come early for this exact reason.

So far so good.

“I know, Rosie. I came to apologize; I should have told you why we are kissing Mosley’s ass after failing to kill him instead of assuming Alfie had told you.” Eva began her apology and thanked the Abrahamic god that Florence had given her the file detailing their mission written by Churchill himself.

“Yeah, you should have instead of cutting me out to make space for Cimme Mosley and her friends.” Rose remarked as she skimmed through the file.

“I’m sorry. Can you ever forgive me for being a pendeja about it?” the witch asked noting Rose’s defenses had lowered enough to soften towards her.

It’s all going to go to hell when she discovers this ruse has to last for the next four years.

Just until they know Mosley is not getting anywhere with his party.

“How long are we to pretend we are enemies?” Rose said getting to the agreement in the final page.

Something was happening in 1934, something bad and this chill only happened when Diane and Tommy were together.

Mosley wanted to hurt Tommy and he would hurt Eva’s little witch too.

“Four years. They are planning something, something awful. I don’t know yet, but I feel it in my bones. I only need four years to figure out what it is so I can stop it and make sure Mosley dies alone and his ideas with him.” Eva confessed to her friend and ally.

“I suppose I can forgive you, it’s for a worthy cause. But the moment you arrive in Margate, this---” she says gesturing to the file “--- stays out of my house.”

“Agreed, we have that rule at home. Been a fucking lifesaver.” The witch admits, breathing easier now that she has her friend back.

“We should return to the party; I want to see Allie’s face when she sees the ponies.” Rose smiled jubilantly; motherhood agreed with her.

It was so good to see her have this happiness so long denied her.

“I want to see Alfie’s when he sees Florence bring out her gift for her sweet little niece. What is your policy on a gold and diamond Star of David for Allie?” the witch asked. Maybe she should tell her about the hand painted illustrated Siddur and matching Torah as well and, oh, the wooden Noah’s Ark that was absolutely perfect, but that would wreck the surprise.

#eva smith shelby #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #rose solomons #rose coldwell #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x rose coldwell #dad!alfie solomons

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dragonmasterkaylz · 4 months

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🐻Alfie’s Sweetheart🧸

Warning: Use of crappy terms against gay men, as well as a lot of swearing and violence.

“Good lad! Fill it out. Fuck off. Next lad!!!”

Every man that approached Alfie Solomons were two things. One, terrified of disobeying him. And two, very confused as to why he had a ‘pretty boy’ on his lap while he did his work. Thomas had met the young man, during his first meeting with Alfie, and he didn’t question their relationship. Saying that, however, the employees had a lot of questions and also opinions.

“Name?”

“Uhhh… Buddy Halls!”

“Profession?”

“Baker!”

“Good lad! Fill it out. Fuck off. Next lad!!!”

The only employee who knew anything was the man put in charge of everyone else. Billy Kitchen. And he was given very simple instructions by Tommy Shelby, if any other employee offends Alfie’s love, they were to be disciplined immediately. A very simple rule, just to protect Teddy Shepherd, Alfie’s ‘pretty boy’ love.

“Name?”

“Billy Kitchen!”

“Occupation?”

“Head Baker!”

Alfie and Teddy both looked up at Billy, who looked as if he was awaiting orders. Teddy then handed him a form and Alfie said, “Fill it out”. Once he walked away, Alfie rubbed Teddy’s lower back and shook his head. “Tommy fucking Shelby, honestly. Never give power to the big man. What do I tell ya? Never give power to the big man…”, Alfie said. “Yeah, alright…! Captain Solomons~”, Teddy teased. Then Alfie gave him a look, making him smile. “Calling me a fucking hypocrite now?” “Yes, sir! I am!” Then Alfie kissed his cheek before whispering, “Wait until we get home…!”

“Next lad!!!”

Teddy was stood next to Alfie as Thomas told all of them what their job was. The ‘pretty boy’ was just sat back and doing the puzzle on the newspaper. He hated being called that, but it’s what he was called as he was a very handsome young man with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was shorter and slimmer than Alfie but he still had some visible muscle. Other than that, he was very kind hearted and very sweet to basically everyone, although he did have his sarcastic streak.

“Any questions?”

“Three”.

Buddy put his hand up.

“Two”.

“Yes…”, Tommy asked, clearly tired.

“One”.

“What’s a faggot doing here, eh?”

Everyone just laughed and Teddy stood back before watching the scene unfold. Tommy looked at Alfie, as he cleared his throat, and he walked up to Buddy, no hesitation whatsoever. He glared at him and quickly hit the man stood next to him, knocking him out. He then patted Buddy with his walking stick and nodded before saying, “He’ll wake up. Granted he won’t have any teeth left, but he’ll be a wiser man for it. And the last thing he would’ve heard is your little comment”.

The room was tense, but Teddy was blushing.

“Right!!!”, Alfie shouted.

“There are fucking rules here, for a fucking reason, which just have to be obeyed! Rule number one: the distinction between bread and rum is not discussed! Rule number two: anything your superior officer tells you, or any of your fucking superior officers tell you… NOT DISCUSSED!!!”

Then his eyes darkened.

“Rule number three, four, five, six, seven, eight— I don’t care. For the rest of your measly lives, because like you, I’m a complete and utter fucking sodomite! Jewish women. You do not go anywhere near them, because Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu”, Alfie said before nodding. “I think that’s fair”. Then he stood there, glaring at Billy. “Hmm— oh!!!”

“And, one more fucking thing, I couldn’t give less of a fuck what you call me behind my back! Really! But, if any of ya, any fucking one of ya, talk about Teddy… Billy will fucking tell me and I’ll fucking kill ya!”

Everything went silent and Alfie turned to Tommy. “Right, sorry. I interrupted”. Then he walked back to Teddy, as Tommy looked down at the man who had been knocked out and he said, “Pick him up”. After, he walked up to Billy and whispered, “Get him outta here… and make this fucking work…!” Billy nodded.

“DON’T FUCKING WAIT!!! YOU’RE MEANT TO BE FUCKING SOLDIERS!!! YOU’RE A FUCKING DISGRACE!!!”

Teddy watched as they left, fearing for their lives and he looked at Alfie. “You okay?” “Hm? Yeah, I’m good, sweetheart”, he said as he rubbed the blondes arm gently, making him smile. Tommy approached them and said, “It’s nice doing business with you, Alfie”. “Hm… yeah”. Once he left, Teddy looked at Ollie as he pointed to the door, telling him to leave them alone.

“Alfie…?”

“I’m scared for ya. I saw some of ‘em staring at ya… and looking up and down at ya”, he said softly. Teddy then kissed him and said, “In case you’ve forgotten, I was also a soldier. And I’m always armed. If anyone touches me, who ain’t you, they’ll lose a finger”. Then Alfie smirked and picked him up. “That gives me a bit of relief. Come here”. Teddy leaned down, kissing him slowly. “I love you, Bear”. “Heh… I love you too”.

END

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc

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justrainandcoffee · 2 months

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The one with Alfie owning an erotic bakery shop.

Today I thought about it and how I failed as Alfie and Rosie shipper (and creator) by not giving them an erotic bakery shop 🤣. Now they have one.

I didn't name her, you can imagine this as reader if you want.

Just a blurb.

For obvious reasons the actual moodboard is beneath the cut:

"I think you misspelled 'Happiness'" his wife said, unable to hide her smile.

"Nah, it's perfectly written, sweetheart."

"You know that our girl can't see this, right? Because you are going to explain her that."

"Fuckin' 'ell, love. The girl won't see my art. Want to see my last creation?"

"I'm afraid, but go ahead."

She followed his husband to the back of their bakery and saw him opening a cupboard. He put a cake in front of her.

"Is that.. Is this your..? You baked a cake using you cock as reference?"

"Ya recognise it, mmh? Well, yeah. It's my fucking bakery. And I'm proud of what God gave me. I sent one to Tommy."

"You sent one to Tommy?!"

"A dick for a dick."

"Oh my god, Alfie..." Then she looked at him "Can I taste the cock?"

"The cake or the actual one?"

"Your choice."

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

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loulouwrites · 1 year

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Thursday Morning . Alfie Solomons

Warnings: swearing, angst, mention of abortion, pregnancy, childbirth

(2092 words)

Alfie remembered when he met her, it was one of the days he wasn’t at the bakery. He had decided to take his dog for a walk in the park on a chilly Thursday morning when he saw her for the first time, she appeared to be in a rush, lightly jogging through the open space in beautiful heels. He stopped to admire her for a second, he had never seen her in the park before, but he was usually there during the later hours, a time when a lady would not entertain the thought of walking through the park on her own. He stood on the grass, lightly holding his dog’s lead, his eyes following her as she dodged the few bodies that got in her way, he was so deep in his appreciation for the woman that he didn’t feel his pup’s lead leave his hand, he didn’t register what was happening until he saw the woman get knocked back by a four legged force, he stood for a minute, looking around to see what irresponsible owner had let their dog run up to a stranger, looking down at his side, his dog was absent, his hand still curled around a lead that wasn’t there anymore.

“Oi” he shouted, hurriedly walking towards where the woman was stood, struggling to stay upright as the dog leaned on her, licking her face “Cyril! Get off” Cyril didn’t listen to his owner until Alfie grabbed him by the collar, pulling him off the woman as she straightened her dress, which was now adorned with muddy paw prints.

“I think he likes me” she joked, a small smile on her face, Alfie cleared his throat watching as she leaned down to lightly pet the dog, who was now sat at his master’s side, his tongue sticking out as he panted happily.

“Yeah, well that’s a good thing, he’s a good judge of character” the woman nodded, her attention on Cyril, who was now as calm as he could be “I’m sorry about that, he’s still a pup, ya see. Hasn’t learned manners yet”

She waved a hand dismissively at Alfie, standing up straight to face him “It’s okay, I’m glad he approves of me”

Silence took over the pair, neither of them being sure how to excuse themselves and go about their day, she stood with he lips pinched shut, he was nodding, looking everywhere but her.

“Cyril” Alfie blurted out suddenly and the girl’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You? Or the dog?”

“The dog” he said quickly “Cyril is the dog. I’m Alfie. I’m Alfie” he gestured to himself “he’s Cyril” he pointed to the happy dog.

“Oh well it’s nice to meet you, Alfie” she introduced herself, holding her hand out towards him, which he took, shaking it gently “and it was nice to meet you, Cyril” she leaved down to pat the dog on the head.

She excused herself, telling Alfie she was late before his puppy attacked her lovingly, he watched her leave, ignoring Cyril pulling his lead in her direction.

It was after that day that Alfie informed Ollie he would be taking Thursday mornings off unless something deadly important came up. Instead of sitting in the bakery, pretending to listen to the numerous men that came into his office to discuss various business dealings, he would spend it in the park, hoping he would run into the girl.

The second time she bumped into him, she took it as pure coincidence, it wasn’t unusual for men to be walking their dogs in the early morning, by the fourth time, she caught on that their meetings were by Alfie’s design.

He learned a lot about her on those Thursday mornings. He learned she taught at a primary school not far away from the park, that she was Jewish and that she had never been married, nor was she promised to anyone.

As the season changed, their relationship changed with it. It was easy for Alfie, he never thought a relationship with a woman could be so effortless, they kept thinks simple. Neither of the spoke of the future, of their expectations, they would meet when they could, he would leave work early on a Friday and meet her down the street, taking her to his home where they would enjoy each other’s company for as long as they could. He knew she wanted to get married, maybe not to him, but one day, all women wanted to get married, and she had mentioned he would only teach until she had children of her own. Alfie tried not to think about it too much, the thought of marrying her and having children with her made him feel anxious in the most beautiful way, he wanted that with her, but he knew she deserved more, more than him.

It was seven months after their first meeting in the park when he greeted her when school was over, she looked more tired than she usually did, and she didn’t speak when he opened the car door for her, or for the whole car journey to his house.

He looked at her from the chair in his living room, she was sat on the sofa opposite him, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her skirt.

“I’m pregnant, Alfie”

“Fuck off” his response was instantaneous, Alfie was always plotting, always thinking of the best thing to say in the moment, but there and then, all thoughts left his head.

“I am”

“Well, it ain’t mine” he spoke flatly “Can’t be”

“How can’t it be? I haven’t been with anyone else, you idiot” it was the first time Alfie had seen her angry, and if he wasn’t so enraged himself, he would probably find it adorable, how her brow furrowed, and her cheeks flushed red ever so slightly.

“I’ll get Ollie to drop you off some cash. Take care of it and all that”

She stood up from her seat on the sofa, grabbing her bag and leaving the house without another word, leaving Alfie sat down, his hands cradling his head.

He didn’t see her for a month after she told him she was carrying his child, the only contact they had was when Ollie returned to the office from her flat, still holding the money and told him to give her, a red handprint forming on the side of his face.

Alfie knew the baby was his, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind, and he didn’t know why he was so angry. He knew he loved the girl; he knew she was the best thing to ever happen to him, that she brought him true happiness, and he was certain the child she was carrying would be an extension of that happiness, but he was still angry. Angry at her for being stupid enough to fall for a man like him.

He watched as she walked out of the school, her face forming into a scowl when she saw him, leaning against his car, parked directly outside of the front gates.

“What the fuck do you want, Alfie?” she hissed when she was close enough

“I’m picking you up at five. Wear the nicest dress you own” he told her, getting into his car and driving off without another word.

She wasn’t sure why she listened to him, why she would spend the next hour getting dressed in her finest outfit, pinning her hair perfectly, all for a man that had proven he didn’t care about her, but that’s what she did. And as soon as the clock struck five, the sound of a car horn could be heard from the bedroom of her first floor flat.

Walking out of the front door, she saw Alfie, leaning against his car, a grin on his face. He was dressed well too, and she wondered whether he had spent the past couple of hours stressing about his appearance too. She pushed past him, getting into the car without speaking to him, crossing her arms over her chest once she was comfortable.

The journey was silent until the car slowed, she peeked out of the window, frowning at her surroundings, she assumed he was taking her to a nice restaurant, where he would either grovel begging her for forgiveness, or he would toss more money at her, demanding she get rid of the life inside of her. But they weren’t at a restaurant, and her eyes widened when she recognised the building to her left, a gasp leaving her as he raised her hand and smacked the man in the driver’s seat on the arm.

“A registry office, Alfie? A fucking registry office?” she whispered harshly

“Well, we’re having a baby, it’s only right we marry before then” he said as if he was discussing a business deal. His eyes met hers, and he cleared his throat when he saw the rage burning in them “Listen, love. I’m horrible, I’m awful, I am. And I am very sorry, and if you agree to marry me, I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you"

The rage in her eyes was replaced with pools of tears threatening to spill over, she shook her head, sniffling quietly.

“So, you only want to marry me because of the baby? If I weren’t pregnant, then what?”

“Oh, if you weren’t pregnant, you’d have a nicer wedding than this but we’re on a time crunch, love” She laughed at his words, dabbing her eyes with her gloved hand.

“You still haven’t asked me”

“Love, will you marry me? Make me the happiest man in London and save our child from bastardization?”

So, they married at the registry office in Camden, picking witnesses off the street, who were more than happy to be present for the ‘happy occasion’. They had a proper wedding later, one in a Synagogue surrounded by their friends but Alfie would always say that first wedding was his favourite.

Their daughter was born six months after their wedding, on a Thursday morning. Alfie sat downstairs as his wife screams echoed through their home, was it supposed to hurt that much? He sat in his chair for all night, he had tried to enter the room on multiple occasions, only for the midwife to shove him back down the stairs before he would even catch a glimpse at his screaming wife.

He sprung up from his chair when her screams suddenly stopped, the house silent for the first time since the night before. The silence only lasted for a moment before the screams returned, only this time they weren’t his wife’s, they were the screams of a baby, his baby. He glanced at the clock on the wall, 8:45, he paced the floor, fighting the urge to run up the stairs again.

“Mr Solomons, your daughter is here” the scary midwife called from the top of the stairs and it didn’t take long for him to ascend the wooden staircase, taking the stairs two at a time, brushing past the midwife that put the fear of God in him. He paused in the doorway for a moment, admiring her from afar. It wasn’t the most beautiful she had looked, she was tired, strand of hair had escaped from the tie at the back of her neck, and her sticking to her forehead, but Alfie couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He took a step into the room, slowly making his way towards the bed, where he sat next to her, glancing at the bundle wrapped in a yellow blanket in her arms for the first time, it wasn’t screaming anymore, rather gurgling, wriggling in its mother’s arms. He reached a hand out, his finger gently resting on the blanket, just below the chin on the little creature.

“It’s um…it’s beautiful, love, well done” she turned to look at him for the first time since he entered the room.

“It?” she raised an eyebrow

“You know what I mean”

They spent the rest of the day in the bedroom, admiring the baby girl. Alfie wouldn’t hold Sarah Solomons until she was three days old, scared that he would drop her, or deafen her with his voice, but once he did, her mother had a hard time getting her out of his arms.

“You know what I realised?” Alfie asked his wife, who had just informed him she was pregnant, as a two-year-old Sarah giggled in his lap.

“What’s that?”

“It’s always a fuckin’ Thursday mornin’”

author’s note:

Omg my first happy ending :)

Thank you for reading! x

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

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heavencanbeaprisontoo · 28 days

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The Sun and The Moon

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

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

November. 7, 1917.

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

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

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

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

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

Dearest Aunt Polly, Ada, and Finn ,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Captain!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do we have a deal, Captain?”

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

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

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

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

His lips were as soft as they looked.

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

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

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

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call-sign-shark · 5 months

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𝒮𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓀’𝓈 𝒳𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓎, 6th December

In the middle of his chaos there was her, there had always been her, the only flower that grown in lifeless soil. As soft and enchanting as she was, Rose Solomons had been standing by his side in raging storms and murderous tempests, keeping him from breaking so many times Alfie had lost count. Offering her a peaceful life near the beach was the least could do. And each time he looked at their daughter playing with the sand, her mother’s hat on her head and a smile beaming, he knew he was the luckiest man on earth.

To celebrate Christmas I’ve been using my free time lately to create 23 gifts that are already programmed, most of them for my beloved Peaky blinders mutuals. I’ll post one gift per day until Christmas, so stay tuned in because yours are coming. You just don’t know when! 🎄-I’m a day late with this one but I was working all day and evening, so I’ll post two gifts today. -

#Peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #Sharksmas #Alfie Solomons #Tom Hardy #Alfie Solomons x OC #Rose Coldwell

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pacifymebby · 10 months

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t r o u b l e / Chapter Ten

a peaky blinders Modern AU balletcore story?

Chapter List

Previous Chapter (in case u missed it bc tumblr is being weird)

John

"Don't like this John," hummed Esme where she sat in the bedroom window, her hair wild and long, trailing down her back her curls knotting down to her lower back, brushing over her bare thighs when she turned to look at me over her shoulder. She'd been up half the night with the baby and now that the littlen had finally settled down she was sitting alone watching the dark garden, wearing one of my tshirts, one which had been worn to death and had grown with her baby belly throughout her last pregnancy. She still wore it now, when it was late and she couldn't sleep. She'd taken to sitting in that window all through the night, starring out at the garden like a caged bird, smoking her cigarettes one by one.

"I know love," I sighed stepping up behind her, letting my hands hold her shoudlers, thumbs rubbing over the bones. "Won't be for long, we'll go back to the farm soon..."

"Thats what you say," she said turning back to the garden with the dark shadowy eyes of a girl. A girl pining. Which is what I knew she was. She was restless and she had been for a long time, long before this shit with the Italians. I'd been trying my best on the farm, trying to help her feel free, connected to the earth. I humoured her when she walked out in the garden barefoot, curling her toes into the muddy vegetable patches when it rained. I'd promised her we'd travel, that we'd pack up and take the kids with us, and I'd meant to keep that promise. But now there were other shadows looming over us, and not just over me and her but the whole family. And keeping my promise to Esme would mean betraying my brothers and sisters.

I couldn't even toy with the idea. Of course sometimes the way Tommy was made me want to say fuck it and leave, but the rest of them, no. I couldn't leave Ada and the twins. Couldnt abandon Arthur who needed the family to stay together more than any of us.

And even Tommy, at the end of the day, no matter how cruel he could be, how unfeeling, he was still my big brother. And he wasn't as selfish as he seemed, it just takes a lot to lead a family, especially one like ours. He was just doing his best to be the person steering our battered ship.

"We're never leaving here," Esme said, her voice low and dark and gloomy like the empty garden at night. That expanse of lawn, so tame. That wall of trees just that, a wall that hedged us all in. Marked out our bit of land and kept it ours. A perimeter that Esme understood, kept her caged.

That was why she spent her evenings starring out at it with dark eyes and a heavy heart. Smoking her cigarettes. Making me feel all kinds of guilt and inadequacy.

"We will flower, just as soon as this is all over, gonna take you and the littlens far away," I said leaning over her, tilting her head right back so that i could kiss her from above. I meant it, in my heart when I said it I meant it but we were neither of us naive and so we both found ourselves looking out at the garden then, whistful and doomed.

This wasn't going to be over quickly. Might never be over at all.

The house was quiet but only just and only for now, the twins had gone to bed, too shaken up for my liking - and I felt guilty for that because I'd aided in the shaking - but Arthur hadn't returned with Ada and I knew that she had all the fight of little Sylvie and all the zeal of having grown up in a shithole like small heath. That is to say I knew she wouldn't be affraid to tell Tommy exactly what she thought of him. How much of a cunt she thought he was.

When our mother had died Tommy had stepped up for the girls because they were only small and suddenly left without a mother or a father to care for them. He'd tried to be that father figure to the best of his ability, which was limited because he'd never really had a sturdy father figure himself. As a result the girls had wound up with this fear of him, that fear only a father can instill. In healthy relationships its known as respect but theirs was a distant and troubled relationship and so fear was the only way of describing it. Ada hadn't had that, didn't fear him and probably wouldn't ever. So I knew that when she got here she'd do the shouting and the fighting for all three of them. Wouldn't give a fuck that it was 4 in the morning and the littluns were in bed, that I was in bed, only just managing to drift off. Would blame me for that, would tell me it straight.

"Ada will stay," said Esme then, "she's not stupid she knows whats at risk..."

"Yeah," I sighed, "its the girls ain't it," I said, "gonna be trouble..." I said and she smirked as if to say 'you don't know the half of it' but I did because every step of the way we'd done everything wrong. We'd sent them away, let them grow up wild in some far away city, in a boarding school that taught them how to lie and cheat their way to the top, taught them they could have everything they wanted if they were cut throat and selfish, if they thought only about where they were trying to go and took wild risks, pushed themselves too far.

And it was obvious looking at Sylvie, that the both of them had taken on board everything that theyd been taught. That they weren't affraid to push themselves too far, test their limits. That they didn't mind their own safety when it came to taking risks to get what they wanted.

And they'd take these risks because we'd always tried to keep them sheltered, always tried to keep them seperate. The twins had never seen their brothers with bullets in their chests, they'd never seen the men we'd snatched from wives and children. They didn't really know what we did with the bodies. They didn't know about the arms severed, the threats sent. They didn't know the things we'd done to our enemies, they thought our wars were all money and talk but they were usually always retaliation to meetings gone sour, deals fucked up, families we'd made the mistake of only half slaughtering.

And because they didn't know any of those things, then they could never really understand what they were risking, what our enemies would do to them, how they would be used, how they'd be tortured.

It wasn't even a year passed since our Aunt Pol had narrowly escaped death at the hands of the Changretta's. They'd had her neck in a noose, left her balanced on her tip toes for days, a sinister act of torture we were all certain had tipped her over the morbid edge she'd been teetering on for years. They'd told her they had all of us, tricked her into believing that whilst she stood their desperately trying to keep her balance, feeling the strain of the noose against her neck every time she faltered, that each of us was fighting for our lives in an equally painful way.

No one knew, not even her, how she'd actually managed to escape. But it hadn't been any of us who had cut her down. Tommy said she must have done it, must have worked out a way to cut the bonds on her hands, to sever the rope around her neck. Polly insisted that it hadn't been. That it had been the ghost of her mother, that now she'd spent several days with death hovering around her, waiting for her muscles to spazm and falter, she could see death all the time. That she could hear the voices of those past, that she could see their shadows lingering around the living.

And though it all seemed a little mellodramatic to me, seemded like rot to Arthur, I could tell Tommy empathised with the darkness. And we couldn't laugh her off because of what she'd gone through. The days of pain, her muscles sore to burning, her adrenaline savaging her body so that when she finally returned home she was a shell of her former self. Something changed behind her eyes.

That was the darkness our fens were risking every time they fought back against Tommy. If they disobeyed him, if we couldn't keep them here, safe with us, well, thered be no ghosts that came to save them.

"Sylvies got her brothers temper," said Esme, her strange impersonal judgements reminding me that they'd never really met. That the wedding had been the first and last time they'd seen one another. So it was all the more strange, all the more uncomfortable.

"Aye but which brother..." I smirked making her laugh, making her dark brooding eyes light up for a moment as she shook her head.

"Well," she let her smirk linger, her dimple etched into her expression so that she appeared impish in the pale nights light, "ain't arthurs is it..."

"Shes nothin like Tommy," I said shaking my head, refusing to believe that that could be true, refusing to believe that there was anything about my brother that could possibly have been passed onto little Sylvia who had always been so wild and sweet.

"They're like our mum," I said trying to reiterate my point. Trying to prove Esme's observation wrong, "I guess you wouldn't see that yknow," I shrugged turning away from the window, pulling my shirt over my head, knowing there was no point trying to get to sleep. Lying down anyway and asked her to lie down with me. For want of nothing else to do.

"Come on love, can't sit in that window all night you'll get cold..."

"What and I spose you're gonna keep me warm?" she asked turning with that clever little smirk, outsmarting me again.

"Aye," I said with a cheeky caught out grin of my own, "Somet like that aye..." I chuckled opening my arms out for her, letting her crawl across the bed to me, that too bed tshirt hanging from her soft curves as she moved feline and feminine over covers to come curl up in my arms.

I kissed her hair and let my hand trail over her thigh, fingers teasing a line up to the hem of her underwear. I knew how to ease her troubled mood, even now when her eyes were dark and I could see that she was worrying.

So we didn't get any sleep, and when Arthur returned with Ada and Karl, their voices ricochetting down the corridors, their disturbance caught me and Esme off guard. Her beanth me, her thighs trembling on each side of my neck as I ground my hips against her hips a little harder than before, burying myself deep inside her.

We'd been close when that front door had slammed and Karl had woken, started crying but the moment Ada's sharp words began tumbling vitriolic and shattering the silent house, we knew it was over.

"Fuck sake," whined Esme burying her face into my neck, clutching at me still, her body clinging tight to mine. She didn't want to let go and I didn't want to pull out and away from her but I knew that any second now Ada would be hammering her fist on that bedroom door demanding to drag me into the battle.

I laughed, let my grin linger because there was nothing else I could do. Just had to keep smirking through it and appreciate the humour of it all, forty fuckin one years old and still being cockblocked by my big sister.

So I accepted my fate, kissing Esme on the nose as I pulled out and she whimpered again. Smirking at her sweetness because it wasn't a side to her that came out very often. Had never been a side she liked to show. One it had taken me a long time to find hidden and secret beneath all those rough and wild layers of defense.

"To be continued," I said pecking her cheek, trailing teasing kisses down her body, leaving one between her legs that made her whine and then push me away, kicking at me playfully as she let out a dissatisfied sigh.

"Fuck sake John," she groaned as she pushed herself up and wrapped the covers around her. "I'm going to sleep, better not wake me up when you get back..." she threatened, her smouldering eyes teasing me, her sullen lips leaving me longing to kiss her again, push her buttons just a little more.

"Oh you'll be awake lass," I grinned, "Ada'll make sure of that..."

And Ada did make sure of that. She'd no patience because despite what he said, Arthur had done nothing to calm her on the journey home and even then, when I came stumbling into the corridor tugging my tshirt over my head, laughing at the drama of it all, Arthur was watching her despairing and nervous.

"Fuckin hell Ada some of us are tryna sleep here, its 4 in the fuckin mornin..." I said still chuckling, knowimg that I was risking her temper and carrying on anyway. I was her little brother afterall, I could get away with it if I tried.

"Perhaps you'd be having an easier night if you didn't always bend over backwards to accommodate our canniving pig of a brother," she said sharply, standing in the hallway lit up by the the little light coming in through the front door and the windows in the cieling.

She looked pale as a ghost and just as cold and I didn't know what to say to her because she wasn't wrong. Wasn't right either. I wouldn't have had an easier night because Tommy would have killed me and then he'd have sent someone else, someone like Isaiah, and then my ghost would have been haunting the halls all eternity with the guilt of having left my little sisters in the hands of someone else.

It wasn't that I wouldn't have trusted Isaiah with my sisters, it was that really when it came down to it, I didn't trust anyone with them. Not even my brothers. Not to do things right anyway.

If Arthur had gone for them he'd have lost his temper because he'd have been scared, because he'd have been paranoid that they didn't respect him, because he'd have been angry at himself for not being able to do as Tommy had asked. For not being the kind of brother his little baby sisters would trust.

If Tommy had gone, then the speech which had brought Sonya to petrified tears in the office that night, would have been given much sooner, with no care for the audience, no care for who was watching, recording or making notes. He'd have lost his temper because he'd have realised they only feared him, didn't respect him. And they were more delicate than either of them liked to let on. Sonya and Sylvia had always been a little less Shelby like our father. Much more like their mother than anyone wanted to admit.

I had noticed it in Sylvia straight away. The thin quality, that washed out pale tone, the greyish brown which shadowed her eyes, which lingered and left her looking tired. Sonya had hidden it better but I'd still seen it there. They were both just so much smaller than they should have been but I knew that if I mentioned it to my brothers they'd tell me I worried too much, that they were tougher than I gave them credit for.

"Ada love come on now eh its late, you'll wake the twins..." said Arthur, all sheepish and tired, one hand on the back of his neck, his features flushed, embarassed to be approaching 50 and still unable to quell his sisters temper. If there was one thing you could say about Ada it was that she'd always been the one to put us in our place. Humble us when we let our position and our reputation get to our heads.

"You care for their wellbeing so much then why in gods name would you drag em back to this fuckin place?" and then she sighed and shook her head, "fuckin go to bed arthur it aint you I need to speak to..."

"Tommys in his..." I trailed off when my eyes met my brothers down the hall, he was walking slowly, a shadow approaching, a cigarette unlit hanging between his lips.

"Ada love," he said making her jump but doing nothing to hush her or shake her determination. "Good to see you made it up safe an sound..." and when I saw his patronising little smile I resigned myself to a sleepless night and a long morning of achey heads and sore throats. Tension bristling.

It was exactly what we got, but not what we didn't deserve.

🔪🦢

"She won't forgive you you know..." said Polly the next morning when it was only myself and her left in the dining room.

Sylvie had left with an angry static buzzing all about her, Tommy had sent her to fetch Sonya and, in his usual tactless charm, had said something so patronising that I was surprised our Fen hadn't torn his head from his neck right in front of us.

"No," I said with a sad smirk, "Fens right, gonna fuck Sonyas whole career up ain't it, poor lass must fuckin hate us..." but when I said it Pol just chuckled and shook her head.

"I wasn't talking about Sonya," she said lighting up her cigarette and drawing in a long leisurely inhale, "Sonya knows she can't go back, I don't even think she's going to put up a fight..."

"Its Sonya who's losing her job not Sylvia," I shrugged a little confused, not understanding when Polly laughed.

"Ha," she said, "stupid lads the lot of you..." she turned her head from me, looking across the dining room and out the window at the gardens where the mist was just beginning to thin.

"What?" I couldn't keep the confusion off my face despite wanting to hide it, I hated it when she made me feel stupid like that, perhaps I deserved it, perhaps I was as daft as she said. Even so I didn't like the fact being highlighted so bluntly.

"Since their mother died those two girls have had only eachother... Their big brothers weren't there were they? In London? Learnt to look after one another didn't they..."

It was painful to hear it from her, our Aunt Pol who has always been the matriarch, the one who looked after us all, the one we all looked up to. She it was painful to hear her tell it so straight, how we'd let them down. How we'd abandoned them. Left two little girls down south on their own, fending for themselves among strangers.

"I should never have let him do that," said Polly then, her voice as dark and gravelly as her eyes, that harsh kind of doom lingering around her like a shadow. One of those auras she claimed to be able to see around people these days.

"When our Tom puts his mind to somet..." I started only to trail off, only to remember that none of us had really fought against it, "we all believed it was for the best..."

"Fools," murmured Pol sucking in another drag on her cigarette, watching the cloud of smoke linger and then disperse just in front of her, "the lot of us."

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