#and it leads right into this; tommy goes with grace because his family hates him (according to himself)

[normalbrothers]

that grace keeps her deception up even after she and tommy have their union is both fascinating and frustrating because she doesn't really seem to dwell on it too much, but i'm not quite sure the intention really was to write her as being this ruthless either. she never really seems to contemplate these contradictions; it invites to think of her as very compartmentalized but the show really never goes there*either*

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (12/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: One week before Epsom you or tommy can get your minds off one another

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (romantic)

A/N: sorry it took so long for me to post this chapter. this semester is just killing me. i really hate online school dude. oh and fair warning i did not proof read this so there might be mistakes please be forgiving towards them. Hope you enjoy and have a fantastic night.

One week before Epsom. A lot was going through your head as time seem to go faster and faster. Tommy hadn’t called you or seen you since you were last in Birmingham.

‘Probably busy with May’ you thought to yourself. You rolled your eyes as you recount her giggles and flirtatious behavior.

 “What was that?” Trinity asks. You almost forgot she was in the same room as you. You almost forgot you were in her house. Giving her the last of what you needed for when you were ready to runaway from the country.

 “Sorry, just thinking.” You say, going back to sipping your tea.

 “Okay, is there anything else I need to worry about or hide for you.”

 “Well hopefully I wont need to have so many fake ids, and I can get a legitimate one.” You say sighing.

 “Hows that going?”

 “Its going.” You say, though you weren’t really sure if helping Thomas Shelby ensured you for what you wanted. Its why you had a backup plan. You always did.

 “When are you leaving, (Y/n)?” Trinty asks.

 “next Friday hopefully.”

 Trinitys eyes almost pop out of their socket. “That soon?!”

 You nod. Right after Epsom you were gone. You needed to make quick moves and this one seemed the quickest and smartest. You were starting to recognize faces on trains and buses. Men were following you. You didn’t know who these men were and why they casually followed you places but it helped you make an important decision that it was time to leave. And soon.

 “What are you gonna do about Thomas Shelby?”

 “What about him?”

 She wiggles her eyebrows at you.

 “No.” You say.

 “oh cmon, you want him a little bit at least.”

 “Not even.” You lie.

“Oh cmon he calls you and you rush to him like a puppy and vice versa. Ada told me that when she called him when you were missing he dropped everything to help you, even rushed over himself.” She says

 “Trinity please drop it. Hes just someone good to have around.”

 “Yea he is.” She says suggestively.

 “No.” You say but the two of you end up giggling at Trinity’s antics as you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.

  Thomas Shelby stares across at the empty seat that not too long ago held a sitting Grace. It felt like years since he had seen her. And he thought that the same emotions from before, from every other time he saw her would brew back up and he’d be in love with her again. But as she talked about America and her new husband all he could see was the woman who betrayed him and his family. She left, nothing happened between them, though it easily could have. He sits and thinks about the woman in his life. He thinks about Greta how he held her hand as he died, Grace the way she had made him smile for the first time in years and then broke hi heart as if it was the first time ever, May who was charming but he knew he would never talk to her after (seeing as he was only using her). And there was you. No amount of words can describe you accurately. They wouldn’t do you justice. Tommy smiles as he recalls the last time he saw you. The flustered look as he said the word ‘date’ as you left the pub. Polly had demanded answers on what he was doing with you. Which he calmly replied, “Business pol, don’t worry about it.” He saw the tension between the two of you when he had walked in. He knew that polly would grow to love and trust you the more she got to know you. You were just that type of person.

Without thinking he picks up the phone, calling adas house. Lucky for him, its you that picks up.

“hello?”

“(Y/n).”

“Mr.Shelby. Are you calling for Ada?”

“No, I was calling for you. How do you feel about Charlie Chaplin?”

*******************************************************************************************

 It was only two hours ago when you had gotten back from Trinitys when the phone rang in you and Adas shared house. You picked up naturally not expecting to hear the sweet deep voice of Thomas Shelby. He had invited you out, which you accepted without thinking.  He had picked you up in a car after telling you to dress nice which you did finding a dress you never worn. It was a lovely shade of green. A pity for it to go waste.

You kept telling yourself its just business as you applied a bit of lipstick to your lips. Its just business you think as you rush down the stairs when you see his car pull up in front. Its just business you think as you open the door and see him standing there looking amazing.

 “You look exquisite.” He says And a thought sneaks up through the cracks of your mind, ‘its not just business.’

When the two of you arrive at the party, the two of you have a grand time as you mingle with famous people and eat little appetizers on plates. You ignore the drinks and the bar not wanting to get drunk.

 “Would you care for a dance?” He asks you. The two of you were sat at a table when a slow song comes on and all the couples rush to the floor.

 “I’m afraid to say that I’m not much of a dancer.” You say embarrassed by your lack of skill.

 “Im sure we can remedy that with some practice.” He smiles, taking your hand and leading you away. And you cant help but follow entranced by the way he guides you and holds you gently. The music is lovely and awfully romantic. You look everywhere else but his eyes. Knowing that you’d just end up lost within them. You watch the couples dancing, wondering which ones were in love or not. You stumble a bit as you attempt to not step on his toes. You do a good job at following his lead although you’re incredibly stiff.

 “Hey, are you okay?” Thomas voice breaks you from your thoughts. You lock eyes a time seems to stop. For a moment you think he’s gonna kiss you.

 He continues speaking, “C’mon lets get out of here.”

 The two of you head back to tommys, the silence comfortable. Though you didn’t have anything to drink, you feel drunk off his presence. You wish  now that you have talked to Trinity or Ada about your conflicting feelings because at this moment as you sit down again on his couch you had no idea how to act.

 “So Epsom…are you ready?” He says

 “As ready as ill ever be.”

 “You’ll be there right?”

 “Of course. I said I would.”

 Another smile falls on to his face as he moves to his vinyl, playing a record that was on it. He holds hi hand out again like at the party.

 “What are you doing?” You ask

 “Asking to dance, do you not want the practice.”

 You smirk and grab his hand. He pulls you in closer than before. His hand resting on your hip and his other hand intertwined with your hand. Again you try to look away from him but then fingers guide your chin to his eyes.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He says.

And you do. And for a moment you feel this gravitational pull. You see him lean forward; you close your eyes. And then…

 RING the phone rings terribly through the apartment,

 “Fuck,” he mutters the edge of his lips barely brushing over yours, he leans back, “stay right here.” He leaves to pick up the phone.

 You take a deep shaky breath as he leave you standing by yourself. You hear him pick up the phone and quietly talk into the receiver end of it. You sit down on the couch replaying what just happened in your head. Your heart beats fast against your skin and you know no doubt that your flustered as can be. You sit to catch your breath and hopefully steady your beating heart.

 Two small knocks on the door. You think to get Tommy but he sounds aggravated you decide to not bother him. You open the door yourself revealing a beautiful blond woman. You blink confused of what she could want, she looks at you equally confused.

 “Hi is tommy here,” her Irish accent is clear as day, “You know what never mind that I just need to get something real quick.”

She pushes pass you and goes immediately to the couch digging her hand through the cushions. She pulls out a ring and sighs in relief.

 “Imagine going home without this.” She says to you.

 “Im sorry I-“  You  finally find the words to speak but she interrupts you.

 “Its okay he probably didn’t tell you. Im grace. I was here a couple hours ago. he’s always been one to move on fast.” She says with a tone of disapproval as she looks up and down at you.

 “Did you meet Chaplin? Hes one of my favorite actors.” Grace continues.

 You feel scrutinized under her gaze. She walks past you with a smile. She knows her words cut you deep even if you don’t show it.

 “Tell Tommy I said bye. Enjoy your time.” And then she’s gone.

 You stand in the same spot by the door. You finally met grace. The one he was with a year ago. The one he named his horse after, the one he kept unopened letters, the one he didn’t like talking about. She was here and she was beautiful. Were you just a second choice for him? And easy get since he couldn’t have what he wanted?

 “(y/n) why are you standing by the door?” you hear tommys voice from behind you.

 “I think I should go home,” Before he can ask why, you answer that question, “Grace came by.”

 “(y/n)..”

 “No this is good before we do something stupid, right?” You say trying to laugh it off, though on the inside your hurting.

 “Lets talk about this..”

 “Mr. Shelby we’re both drunk and not thinking clearly”

 “You haven’t been drinking all night and I’m as sober as I’ve ever been.”

 You shake your head, “Why did you bring me out tonight? Was it cause she said no?”

 “I-I” For the first time Thomas Shelby was at a loss for words.

 You sigh, “Ill see you at Epsom, Mr.Shelby”

 And then you left.

Read pt.13

Tags

@babylooneytoonz @captivatedbycillianmurphy @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @evelyn-4034  @ms-dont-care  @owenniasstars @shikin83 @lauren-raines-x 

[nineteenninety-six]

Escapsim - Pt3

I’ve literally had a day from hell today and all I want to do is cry and sleep so sorry if this isn’t the best.

General Peaky Blinders tag list: @stassiebabyy @shadow-of-wonder @dayna041101 @futuristicslimemongerbanana @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @sweetgoodangel​

Escapism tag list: @kingarthurscat​ @newsieunion​ @stydia-4-ever​ @1950schick​ @writeroutoftime​

[PART ONE] [PART TWO] [PART FOUR]

WORD COUNT: 2637

(Y/N) hadn’t seen Tommy since he had come over for dinner and she was glad. Their brief moment alone along with their even briefer kiss made her crave for more but she knew she couldn’t, knowing that it would only end badly for her. Stewart occasionally mentioned him but he hadn’t invited Tommy back around. 

Though she had gotten close to Ada, a week after the dinner Stewart passed her a note from Tommy on behalf of his sister. Ada had wanted to get to know her more and had invited her to lunch and the woman hadn’t brought up her brother once in the times that they hung out together and now the woman had become a close friend to her, (Y/N) found that she could relax and talk about almost anything with Ada.

Stewart was turning fifty-seven and had decided to throw a party, inviting all his friends and their wives around for a party that (Y/N) knew was go on till the early house, along with the usual shenanigans that happened at these sort of parties but this time since it was at their house she could escape into her run and she knew Stewart wouldn’t realise, the drugs and the alcohol affecting his attention. 

(Y/N) was currently welcoming the guests as they arrived at the party, stood next to Stewart looking like a dutiful wife who loved and supported her husband despite how untrue it was when Tommy arrived, looking handsome and dapper.

“Thomas!” As always, Stewart was excited to see Tommy.

“Stewart.” Tommy’s smile was strained.

“You can deal with the rest of the guest by yourself can’t you darling? Good alright.” Stewart said before he left, an arm around Tommy’s shoulders guiding him into the room where the part was being held.

(Y/N) watched after them speechless, unable to do anything as more guests arrived meaning she had to take care of them, explaining where Stewart was, whenever they asked. 

When she had finally finished greeting everyone (Y/N)’s feet hurt like hell and all she wanted to do was slip her heels off and curl up in bed but she had to suck it up and mingle for the rest of the evening, at least until the evening activities started. (Y/N) was making her way around the party room making small talk with Stewart’s friends and their wives when she ran into Margaret and Mary-Anne, the women had separated from their husbands and made their way to the younger woman. (Y/N) had gotten closer to Margaret over the past few weeks and she had become a close friend to her.

“(Y/N)! How are you, dearie?” As always, Margaret was chipper.

“I’ve been well.” (Y/N) hugged the two women, “I haven’t seen you two in a while, how have you been.”

“You know how it is (Y/N), it’s been the usual.” Mary-Anne answered as she passed the younger woman a drink.

“No gossip?” (Y/N) asked with an eyebrow raised. Despite not exactly liking the wives social group, (Y/N) was a sucker for the drama and gossip that existed in them.

Mary-Anne smirked before she and Margaret hooked their arms on either side of (Y/N) and began leading her to the corner where there were some free seats,

“You remember Edith, right?” Margaret asked

(Y/N) thought it over for a bit, “The one married to Howard?”

 “Yes, well rumour has it, she was caught with another man.” Mary-Anne spoke in a low voice.

(Y/N) choked on her drink, unable to believe what she had just heard. The only thing that was running through her head was her and Tommy, even though nothing had actually happened between them. 

“W-What?” (Y/N) asked

“Well, apparently Howard had allowed her to do it and he can sleep with whoever he wants to as well.” Margaret finished off

(Y/N) gaped at the two of them, “Are you serious?”

The women nodded and took sips of their drinks.

(Y/N) didn’t know what to say but luckily she didn’t have to say anything as Stewart called her name, waving her over to where he was still standing with Tommy.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Waving goodbye to her friends, (Y/N) left them and walked over to her husband.

“Mr. Shelby.” (Y/N) greeted the man. Tommy nodded his head at her as a greeting.

“Thomas here was just extended an invitation to us to attend a charity dinner but unfortunately I cannot go but I said you’ll attend on behalf of me as well. That’s fine isn’t it sweetheart?” Although it was a question, Stewart wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Of course, I’d love to attend.” 

“Good girl.”

(Y/N) grit her teeth at his words, whenever he spoke to her like that or involved her age, it felt demeaning and insulting.

“It’ll be a pleasure to have you there.” Tommy told her.

(Y/N) nodded, refusing to look at him, the memories of what had happened a few weeks ago still fresh in her mind.

“Oh, Michael!” Stewart once again had gone off somewhere once he spotted one of his friends.

“You don’t have to go to the dinner if you don’t want to.” Tommy informed her.

(Y/N) finally looked up at him, knowing it would be rude to keep looking away as they spoke/

“No, I’d love to attend. Thank you for inviting me.” 

“Of course.”

“Stewart mentioned it was a charity dinner, what are you raising money for?” (Y/N) asked

“‘The Grace Shelby Institute for Orphaned Children’” Tommy answered

“Grace Shelby...oh your late wife?”

“Yes, me and my family built the orphanage shortly after her death.”

“How noble of you. It’d be an honour to join you.” 

“It would be an honour to have you there.” Tommy smiled at (Y/N) and she smiled back.

They chatted a bit more before they split ways, (Y/N) returning to Margaret and Mary-Anne for the rest of the night until the thing she hates the most finally arrives. When Margaret and Mary-Anne go over to their husbands, (Y/N) swipes a couple of drinks and swiftly exits. As she left the house and made her way over to the field that was next to the mansion, she tried to convince herself that the reason why she took two drinks was that so she could have both of them and not because she secretly hoped Tommy would also escape the party and find her, like how he did the first time they met. 

(Y/N) was sitting on the ground, not caring about the dirt, lost in her mind, gaze on the moon and appreciating the sounds of nature, when she was interrupted.

“Great minds think alike once again eh”

It was Tommy and (Y/N) couldn’t suppress her smile when she looked up at him, “I wondered if I was going to see you tonight.”

Tommy huffed a sigh as he sat next to her, “Who knew trying to escape and drug infused orgy would be so hard.”

“I brought you a drink, you know just in case.” (Y/N) passed Tommy the glass of whiskey she had brought with her.

Tommy smiled at her and took the drink, taking a swig before he moved to light his cigarette.

“I need to apologize for what happened a few weeks ago. I overstepped and caused you distress. I’m sorry.”

“Tommy-no, I…” (Y/N) paused unable to articulate her thoughts properly.

“Stewart is not a nice man, even something as innocent as friendship could get us in trouble, I’d rather not get you involved with that.” She continued

“But you’re not happy (Y/N), I can help you, don’t you understand?” Tommy had crushed his cigarette and turned to face her fully, bending his head down so that he could look into her eyes.

“I’m not happy but I’d rather suffer through this than have you killed because we’ve done something and Stewarts found out. I won’t be the reason you die Tommy.”

Tommy pressed his head against hers, “Just let me help you.”

“I can’t. Even this is risky, we’re right next to my home where there are a hundred workers who are loyal to Stewart and won’t hesitate to tell him if they see something suspicious. One thing goes wrong and we’re both dead Tommy.” (Y/N) was teary-eyed.

Tommy took both her hands in his and asked her a question, 

“Ever heard of the Peaky Blinders?”

“Peaky Blinders? No, what is it?”

“A gang. My family gang. We’ve got people in Birmingham, London...just ask and I’ll do it.”

(Y/N) ignored the last part, focusing on the first part of his sentence instead,

“A gang? You’re involved in a gang?” (Y/N) didn’t believe him.

“Before I was all this, I was a poor boy in Birmingham and my family started a gang, mostly taking bets on fixed races but after the war, we started to move up, less of a gang and more of a business,” Tommy explained.

(Y/N) was intrigued, “What sort of stuff did you do before you became an MP?”

Tommy laid back so that he was laying down and he could see the stars in the sky, “Where should I start….I’ve killed a few people under the orders of the IRA and British Government, stole some jewels from Russian duchesses and a duke, smuggled alcohol into America and Canada and some other things that I can’t remember.”

“You can’t be serious can you?” (Y/N) didn’t believe him.

“I am.” Tommy turned his head to look at her.

“You’re serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“So you’ve worked up from merely a gang member to MP, that’s certainly something.”

“Impressed?” Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Absolutely.” (Y/N) mimicked Tommy’s previous response causing both of them to laugh.

Tommy sat back up and moved closer to (Y/N), “Please, just ask me and I’ll do it.”

(Y/N) pressed her hand to his cheek, “I’m sorry Tommy, it’s too risky, I don’t want you hurt.”

Tommy moved his head close to hers and slowly pressed his lips to hers, giving (Y/N) time to pull away if she wanted to but she didn’t, she allowed him to kiss her and this time, she kissed back and when Tommy pulled her onto his lap, she continued to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. (Y/N) wasn’t sure how long they spent kissing on the field but it was only when the sound of cars starting did she finally pull away from Tommy,

“That’ll be everyone’s drivers” (Y/N) slightly panted, out of  breath, “You should go before everyone leaves.”

Tommy helped her up and kissed her one more time, “I’ll see you at the dinner.”

“Of course.”

One more kiss and Tommy was making his way down the field and over to his car and (Y/N) picked up the empty glasses and crept back to the house, slipping through the side entrance and running up to her room.

(Y/N) made her way to Arrow House a few weeks later. She had finally come to Birmingham for Tommy’s charity dinner and she had been counting down the days since Stewart's birthday, spending every waking moment thinking about Tommy, the man who had captured her heart in just a few meetings. She didn’t know if Stewart had caught on to her weird behaviour but she didn’t care, not when she was moments away from seeing Tommy again.

Thanking the maid who had taken her coat, (Y/N) made her way into the ballroom, hearing soft music and chatter. When she entered it felt like a breath of fresh air, the people that occupied the room weren’t like the ones that usually came to the parties she attended with Stewart. They still were probably absurdly rich but at the same time they gave off a kind vibe.

“(Y/N)” Tommy had left the person he was talking to as soon as he spotted (Y/N), making his way over to her. 

“Tommy” (Y/N) breathed, a smile on her face.

“I’m glad you could make it.” Tommy slid an arm around her waist and began to guide her somewhere, “Let me introduce you to my family.” 

(Y/N) was apprehensive but figured that since Ada was nice, then the rest of the Shelby clan shouldn’t be terrible.

Tommy led them over to an older woman who was with a young man and young woman,”(Y/N), this is my aunt Polly and my cousin Michael and his wife Gina.”

(Y/N) noticed a slight hesitation when Tommy introduced Gina which made her think that the woman wasn’t exactly accepted by the family.

“Nice to meet you.” (Y/N) held her hand out.

“It’s a pleasure Mrs Langley” Polly’s grip on her hand was tight and her eyes told (Y/N) that she was scouting her out. Along with the use of her title and last name, (Y/N) surmised that Polly didn’t trust her or particularly like her.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Michael interrupted his mother's inspection and held his hand out and (Y/N) shook his before moving to shake his wives.

“Langley….as in the Langleys of London?” Gina pondered.

(Y/N) didn’t like the look on Gina’s face as she asked the question she obviously knew the answer to, she wondered if the hesitation on Tommy’s part was due to the facade Gina had.

“Yes.. Stewart is my husband.” (Y/N) replied with a sweet smile, refusing to sink down to Gina’s level.

“Ah” Gina responded, a particular look on her face, one that (Y/N) couldn't decipher.

Tommy guided her over to a couple, a tall ginger man and a small blonde woman 

"This is my older brother Arthur and his wife Linda." Tommy introduced

"Nice to meet you." They exchanged pleasantries and (Y/N) was grateful that neither of them started anything.

"(Y/N)!" 

(Y/N) turned around and saw Ada walking over to them with a smile.

"I haven't seen you ages, c'mon" Ada took her arm in hers and pulled her away, not even sparing a look at her brothers.

"Nice to see you too Ada"

"You've met my family, what do you think?" The younger woman asked, passing her a drink.

"Well they certainly leave an impression don't they" 

Ada snorted, "That's one way to put it."

Ada kept her company for the rest of the evening, introducing her to the odd family friend they came across but otherwise, the women kept to themselves, though (Y/N) could feel the stares coming from Polly. Ada told her that Polly was the matriarch of the family and took care of all of the siblings when their mother died so it made sense to (Y/N) why she was being cautious over new people.

Tommy had cornered her the moment she was alone, which meant that as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom she was being dragged into a random room.

“I haven’t seen you all day.” Tommy closed the door behind him.

“Blame your sister.” 

“I’ve missed you.” Tommy strode over to her and took her face in his arms

“I’ve missed you too.” 

Tommy kissed her and moved her backwards until the back of her legs hit something, causing her to squeal and fall down. Expecting to fall onto something hard and uncomfortable, (Y/N) was caught off guard when she fell on something soft and springy. It was a bed. 

Tommy looked down at her from where he stood in front of her, “You sure you want to do this?”

(Y/N) nodded. She was sure.

[harringroveficlibrary]

Harringrove ABO Masterlist

someone asked for an abo masterlist, so here it is! 

this list isn’t sorted in any particular order, other than by date posted, which is the default on ao3. (newest -> oldest) i also didnt include every single fic in the abo tag because this list was already going to be a large post. if there are any fics i missed that someone thinks should be included, feel free to send an ask or to just reply to this post! :^) ♥  -cade 

updated: April 16th, 2020

Carnal by mrhiddles (1/1 | 4,001 | Explicit)

Steve goes into heat when Billy pulls up to school. Billy's the only one who can help him, or so Steve says.

The Case Where Billy Hargrove Turned Out To Be Not Your Average Alpha by Anonymous (1/1 | 3,249 | Teen+)

“I don’t spend heats with alphas.” Steve said, his gaze avoiding Billy’s.

Billy faltered at that, his brows furrowing in confusion. “I thought you’d spent your heats with people before?” Billy asked.

“Well yeah, but not with alphas.” Steve huffed.

“So— You’re a faggot?” Billy asked, his eyes widening.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Perfectly Unnatural by ImNeitherNor (1/1 | 3,255 | Explicit)

‘You’re not an alpha in this house, boy. You’re not strong. You’re not even responsible with your sister. You don’t respect Susan. I thought I taught you enough in California.’

Neil’s words clang around Billy’s skull and burn the inside of his bones as he sits on the hood of his Camaro. The metal below his ass is warm from the engine just having been turned off, but the lights still spill out across the cliff. This place, nestled at the top and shrouded by trees, catches the wind just right. The wind bites through his jean jacket, settling close to his skin. The cherry red glow of his cigarette gives a false sense of warmth and puts Billy’s teeth on edge.

‘You’re unnatural.’

warnings: references to childhood abuse

Puppy Pile by Strawberry_Sweetheart (1/1 | 2,432 | Not Rated)

Steve forgets about his heat and thinks he has enough time to make a grocery run before it really hits.

He seems to have miscalculated.

Luckily, Billy is there’s to get him home safe.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

One Last Time by Strawberry_Sweetheart (1/1 | 3,157 | Not Rated)

It came with a phone call late at night, just past the witching hour. It was deathly quiet and dark, a new moon withholding any moonlight to chase the shadows away, and in that silence the piercing ring of the telephone downstairs cut through their dreams. A sleepy noise and wiggle came from the lump under Billy, shifting until it escaped Billy’s arms and legs that held it hostage.

Or

this is a requested fic for Alpha El + Billy and Steve being good parental figure types and helping her figure things out

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

So messed up, I want you here by Boudoir_Writer (1/1 | 3,942 | Explicit)

“I turned you bitch, Harrington.” His voice is gravel and petrol, his limbs and heart lead. “We’re never going to be done.”

warnings: dubcon

Smoke by Carerra_os (1/1 | 468 | General)

Billy is ditching class for a smoke break when Steve comes along. -

Originally this was written for You're Extra Special, Something Else. However that story went in a different direction.

Black silk and wild flowers by Catharrington (1/1 | 3,015 | Explicit)

Steve’s birthday was really just another day. The only thing that made it special was his fathers insistence on going to a party thrown for just him, a party filled with starving alphas with fat wallets all rutting against themselves to buy their own little omega. Steve hates what his father makes him do. Steve hates his birthday. Until Billy Hargrove crawls through his window to remind him it’s not all bad, silver lining in the clouds and shit, and brings him a present.

Drop (The Game) by MissGillette (3/3 | 42,080 | Explicit)

Billy has wanted a piece of Steve since spotting him on the school parking lot his first day. So when Steve flees the bathroom at Tina's Halloween party, distressed and about to drop, Billy does the only logical thing: follow the scent.

The Lucky One by wingedbears (1/1 | 6,881 | Mature)

In a world where on one arm is your soulmate's name, and the other's is your enemy's, omega Billy has to learn to let shit go.

Princess of the apocalypse by Boozombie (2/2 | 15,034 | Explicit)

Steve just wanted to keep his kids safe, and Billy knows how to use that.

warnings: rape/non-con

Princess that runs his world by Boozombie (3/3 | 11,747 | Not Rated)

Billy takes Steve to wash up and plans to get him alone for a date. Steve wants to bring his pack along.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, rape/non-con elements

lately i feel like i've been losing (my mind) by ToAStranger (1/1 | 3,162 | Explicit)

Billy hasn't felt right since the summer straight out of a horror movie. His instincts are all off. And Steve Harrington keeps looking at him.

Pothos by moonflowers (1/1 | 6,714 | Explicit)

He felt like the rabbit and the fox all at once, the thrill of chasing and being chased, a circle, whole. He might’ve felt stupid about it, if it hadn’t been so intense. Robin always told him he fell for people too easy – and fine, she was right – but this was something else. Or maybe not yet, but oh man he was starting to think he wanted it to be. And it was probably idiotic of him to get his hopes up, but he couldn't help but think maybe Billy did too; watching Steve from behind a tired and quietly angry veneer, a little twist of hope just visible through the mask.

Dubious Hijinks by Corvin (1/1 | 3,998 | Teen+)

Steve needs a buffer between him and the alpha his dad picked for him. The best option he can think of is an uncooperative Billy Hargrove.

with them indiana boys (on them indiana nights) by ToAStranger (1/1 | 4,842 | Teen+)

The thing is, when Billy first saw Steve Harrington, he knew.  

He grew up knowing.  It was hard not to, with all of those hormones and instincts running through his fucking veins.  He knew, one day, he’d run across someone that smelled so right, so fucking perfect that he’d want nothing more than to bury his face against their scent gland and breathe in until the smell becomes a taste becomes a sensation becomes--

Well.  The thing is, he’s always known.

None Brighter Than Your Eyes by Doodsxd (1/1 | 9,991 | Explicit)

Sex Ed course came once again, and, for the first time, Billy listened.

He listened, because it started to match and make sense with what Max’s little troup told him over and over again.

Apparently, it was biology which dictated that omega jewelry wasn’t just a futility or decoration, or even a signal that the omega was taken. It wasn’t a trade, sex for jewelry, like Neil had taught him all his life. No: scientists had found back in the sixties that omega jewelry has a soothing effect, especially during heat, as a reminder of love and affection; something tangible and available at all times, even when no one is.

warnings: graphic depictions of violence

"is that what you want, princess?" by greeneyedsourwolf (1/1 | 4,008 | Explicit)

Steve asks Billy if he wants to spend their first heat together.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Pool Time Stress by AMemoryDelayed (1/1 | 2,610 | Explicit)

Steve's been visiting the pool pretty frequently. He can't help it when he'd been carted along that one time. He can't stand to watch Billy eye other women. It makes him regret it too, and yet. He's excited when Billy barely even moves his gaze over to him. He gives Steve the slightest of grins from where he's sat at. He doesn't make any other sign to warn him of what's to come beyond that. Steve knows though.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Thanks Phyllis by Corvin (1/1 | 11,764 | Explicit)

Steve wants to start a family and asks Billy for help. What was supposed to be a purely professional exchange turns a lot more intimate than he expected.

Everything falls back by Crowweb (1/1 | 1,302 | Teen+)

Billy isn't home like he's supposed to and Steve gets a bad feeling through their bond. The alpha turns up beaten up after a couple of hours.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, blood

push him down (spread him out) by tol_sirion (1/1 | 3,529 | Explicit)

“It’s embarrassing.” Steve whines and covers his face instead.

Billy tuts. “None of that, now,” he says, and Steve slowly looks up, hands falling to each side of his head instead. “Just one more picture. One more, and I’ll give you what you want.”

And maybe it’s cruel, holding it over Steve like that. Like only if Steve is good and does what Billy says, he’ll finally get dicked down the exact way he wants, and not a minute before.

Woke Up Thirsty by trashcangimmick (1/1 | 3,256 | Explicit)

Billy shows up at the Byers house looking for Maxine. Instead, he finds Steve Harrington and a kind of surprising proposition.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Grace Me With Nothing But Patience by itscrybabyharrington (icanspelliero) (1/1 | 6,587 | Explicit) 

It started off as an itch beneath the surface of his skin, no matter how hard Steve pressed his nails could never dig through, could never scratch the discontent that simmered just beneath.

Tommy says it’s nothing, signs of an early rut approaching, meds wearing off after taking them for so long. Only Steve knows Tommy is full of shit and this doesn’t feel like a rut.

warnings: underage, offensive language used, homophobia

Buzzcut Season by Senowolf (1/1 | 6,332 | Teen+)

Steve always waits for Billy to come back to him.

I Wanna Be Loved by harringrovecryptid (13/13 | 51,993 | Explicit)

"Brenner Relations" was one of the most lucrative businesses in the modern age. But only its clients and staff actually knew how it made its money. Billy Hargrove found himself being one of those people. But the deeper he got involved with the shady industry, the more secrets he began to uncover regarding the omegas that are considered company property.

warnings: graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con elements

Assigned Alpha by Kiram (2/2 | 3,415 | Explicit)

Steve used to just be an unknown secondary gender till Billy Hargrove rolled into town. Steve’s stuck in a rock and a hard place and is inevitable forced to fold and give into his nature. Billy likes bugging Steve while simultaneously protecting him.

war song by themundaneweirdo (1/1 | 1,789 | General)

Steve misses his soldier.

Don't Take Your Time With Me by trashcangimmick (1/1 | 6,864 | Explicit)

Billy is usually a light sleeper. But when he’s drunk, it’s a completely different story.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, rape fantasy, implied/referenced sexual assault, implied/referenced child abuse

I Can Do That by captainwingdings (1/1 | 1,971 | Explicit)

Billy wants to help out with Steve's heat, so he shows him a taste of what he can do.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Hot Blooded by captainwingdings (1/1 | 4,463 | Explicit)

The new guy from California catches Steve Harrington's attention for more than one reason. Not only was he hot as hell and didn't know how to button his shirts, but he was the strangest omega that Steve had ever seen. 

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Moaning Lisa Smile by trashcangimmick (1/1 | 3,735 | Explicit)

Billy maybe kind of hides the fact that he’s an Omega because he’s too queer, and too pretty, and would rather not deal with a bunch of idiot Alphas trying to screw the gay out of him. But Steve’s not an Alpha. Steve is also very pretty.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, consent issues

Sweet Dream (Saccharine) by Highsmith (1/1 | 16,039 | Explicit)

Billy and Steve aren't friends, until they are, and they're not more than that, because the world doesn't work that way.

warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, recreational drug use

Pressing the accelerator down by Etnoe (1/1 | 6,229 | Explicit)

Heat season takes a toll of two alphas who can't find anyone to share a rut with. Aside, of course, from each other.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Keeping a bit of you by peirypatt (1/1 | 697 | General)

Over the years Steve's room has had several changes and seen many trends and phases, but there was only one thing that didn't belong to Steve inside his bedroom. A denim blue jacket.

It came naturally to us by peirypatt (1/1 | 650 | General)

Saying that Steve and Billy held hands in 1999 for the first time would be wrong and right at the same time. It's complicated, and at the same time, it's not.

Don't Belong To Anyone (Else) by sparkleeye (2/2 | 31,145 | Explicit)

And he does, just Billy’s fucking luck, because Harrington licks his lips and hoarsely goes, “I fucking knew it, fuck Hargrove, you’re in heat.”

He shudders as Harrington takes a step towards him. The tangy, warm scent of alpha has him struggling to stand upright, already slipping into the too far gone state and it’s fucking Harrington’s fault because he still won’t leave.

Better yet, he knows, he can smell the sweetness of omega, particularly herbal and saccharine like lavender and vanilla - Billy knows he smells like a girly little candle, okay - flooding the air between them. He could push Billy over and take him there, on the floor, push his face down onto the cracked, dusty concrete and fuck him stupid.

aka -- Billy is a stubborn idiot and goes to school during his heat.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Upside Down, You're Turning Me by ImNeitherNor (1/1 | 7,885 | Explicit)

“Let me get this straight. You want me to go into the middle of the fucking woods in below zero temperatures to find someone who is probably high as a kite and just having the time of his damned life?”

“We’re worried--” Max starts and Billy sneers.

“That sounds like a personal problem, Maxine. Steve is a big boy, an alpha, and can handle--” Billy tears his gaze away from Max as Dustin climbs on top of his hood and sits there. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Not moving,” Dustin shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Doctor’s Visit by HalfNakedWriter (1/1 | 2,320 | Explicit)

Steve goes for his 38 week appointment. 

'Cause We Feel Young and Wild by BeautyInChains (1/1 | 1,515 | Explicit)

Soon, is Steve’s best guess. Soon like the subtle itch beneath his skin that intensifies with each passing day. Soon like the voracity of his appetite as his body begins to prepare itself for the upcoming marathon. Soon like the aggression that continues to build and threaten to spill whenever another Alpha so much as glances Billy’s way. Soon like the way he’s been tenting his sheets, his slacks, his gym shorts at so much as a gentle breeze.

So when Billy texts him that morning, an eggplant emoji followed by the fire, peach, and splashing water emojis with not one but three question marks, Steve replies with Soon.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Lost My Mind by trimorning (1/1 | 1,564 | Teen+)

"I don't want to be dramatic."

He doesn’t know what Steve is going to say, which isn’t normal because he’s a predictable kind of mess, so it makes him feel vulnerable.

But its fine, its just Steve so it will undoubtedly be fine. Billy looks back at the other boy, “I can tell you right now, that you are physically incapable of not being dramatic, so continue.”

---- An a/b/o Harringrove one-shot that has little to do with a/b/o and more with Steve's flirty and messy ass. enjoy

Lavender by PoisonousFlower3 (1/1 | 756 | Mature)

"Billy hated being an alpha. He hated how it made his sense of smell stronger and smell the despair that always seemed to linger in this town. He hated how he was always so angry, though he knew that part of it was the abuse from his dad and his temper.

What he didn’t hate was how it let him get a good whiff of Steve whenever he was around."

In which case home starts to include Steve Harrington for Billy.

Red by PoisonousFlower3 (1/1 | 602 | Mature)

"Yeah, maybe things hadn’t started off the best for them but Billy was definitely in love." Another little drabble for two idiots in love

now I got you drunk, hot, and vulnerable (how do you like me now? do i turn you on?) by brawls (brawlite), ToAStranger (1/1 | 6,807 | Explicit)

The first thing Billy notices is the scent.

Heady, sweet, electric. It makes his mouth water, the second he walks in. Makes every bone in his body sing.

Heatstroke by HobbitSpaceCase (1/1 | 8,022 | Explicit)

Billy is out of suppressants and going into Heat. Steve finds him. It's too bad Billy can't have this every time.

warnings: dubcon, sad ending

Steve Forgets by femmesteve (1/1 | 1,242 | Explicit)

Steve forgets his heat and Billy is there to be a jerk and fuck him how he needs.

you scratch my back, i'll bite yours by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 2,363 | Explicit)

Billy rushes Steve's fraternity and gets in, which sucks, only when it doesn't. Drunk Steve has a hard time staying away from what isn't good for him.

bite me, but not too hard by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 3,854 | Explicit)

Steve debates whether or not he should spend his heat tranquilized.

your teeth go deep (it seems) by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 3,554 | Explicit)

Nothing about his life, or his love life, has been simple thus far. The trend continues.

eat me (let it run down your chin) by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 2,837 | Explicit)

Billy ends things with Steve. Sorta.

Nine to five. by Fanflick (9/9 | 34,301 | Explicit)

Steve knew that everything would ultimately come to this, working for his father at a boring office job. It wasn't easy being an omega in hiding, especially now since Steve's boss is the arrogant alpha Billy Hargrove. Now Steve has to work alongside his high school rival while also trying to save enough money to get away from his father. How hard can that be?

warnings: boss/employee relationship

Drunken Things by Rhiw (3/3 | 10,566 | Explicit)

Nancy and Steve break up before Tina's party. Steve finds himself on the rebound, damned and determined to have some fun. Billy just wants to get laid.

Aka: The ABO of Stranger Things no one asked for. Written while drunk, with drunk characters, and lots of angst and smut and shit. Enjoy.

warnings: underage

what a wicked game you played (to make me feel this way) by brawls (brawlite), ToAStranger (14/14 | 119,016 | Explicit)

Billy knew Steve Harrington would ruin him. Steve knew Billy Hargrove was nothing but trouble.

They never expected it to end up like this.

warnings: misogynistic language, ableist language, mentioned dubcon

turn me loose by hoppnhorn (1/1 | 3,321 | Explicit)

Billy is a dominant, powerful alpha with a slew of omegas dying to win his affection. He loves it, lives for it, except when he’s in rut. Steve is an omega and fights it every damn day. But when his body goes into heat, needs to breed, he can’t do anything to stop it. Billy is in rut and Steve is in heat when a freak heatwave knocks out the air conditioning in their shared apartment complex. Open windows and rampant hormones? What could go wrong?

Punch by hati_skoll (1/1 | 2,330 | Teen+)

Steve is dragged off by another alpha, Billy handles it.

A Start by ImNeitherNor (1/1 | 5,574 | Explicit)

The quarry was always Steve’s go to when he needed a place to breathe, an area where the smells weren’t in his face and he could think straight. It was strange how one person’s heat could trigger another. Steve, a slightly cowed alpha after Hargrove rolled in, was done with the overpowering scents and the looks that were being thrown around.

He wasn’t interested in any of it. None.

So, when he pulled up onto the edge of the quarry and stepped out, he almost groaned at the smell that hit him. An omega. An omega in heat. Fuck. This is exactly what he had hoped to get away from. He was ready to slide back in and yank his car in reverse when he looked up and saw, exactly, what car was sitting to the side, shaded by an overcast of trees. If he hadn’t actually looked, it would have slipped away. He blamed his sharper senses, his need to search out the omega.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Slick by hati_skoll (1/1 | 2,028 | Teen+)

Steve gets wet for Billy.

(Less porn inside than implied.)

Hold Me Tight Or Don't by BTSBlossom (1/1 | 4,808 | General)

Billy has some news for Steve, he just doesn't know how to tell him. At least he knows he's got Ms. Byers on his side. She'll be there for Billy if Steve isn't.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, abortion discussion

Wrap Me Up (In Your Love) by LadyMoonveil (1/1 | 1,254 | Teen+)

In which Steve keeps stealing Billy's clothes, and Billy is terrified of the implications when he comes to the realization that Steve is nesting.

After everything that Steve has done for him, all Billy wants to do is be good to his mate. (Even if it means adding things to his wardrobe that sadly isn't denim or leather).

Make me feel special by pizzz_10 (1/1 | 1,577 | Explicit)

A short sweet omega fic where Billy is an omega and Steve is his alpha who loves to spoil him

bück dich by Rebldomakr (1/1 | 966 | Mature)

Billy Hargrove arrives in Hawkins, with Steve Harrington's name written on his neck.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings, mild blood/slight gore

sandman by Rebldomakr (1/1 | 2,226 | Explicit)

Steve’s not a fighter. He sucks at it, actually. He’s a little soft, but he isn’t totally weak or awfully tiny. He’s a good Alpha in many of the ways that count! Just because he isn’t running around sleeping with anyone willing, picking fights, and beating people to death doesn’t mean he’s a bad Alpha. And though Billy might do all that, but he isn't a bad Omega.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

Silk by Rebldomakr (1/1 | 3,393 | Mature)

In Indiana, Omega suppressants are banned. Billy runs out after a while.

warnings: creator chose not to use archive warnings

[redheadedrenagade]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1: When the Lights Went Dim

credit to gamegifsdaily for the beautiful gif. 

Here’s the first chapter to Wicked Game, a Joel Miller x Female OC fanfiction. I’ll be honest, I have NO CLUE where this fic is going to go. I don’t anticipate it being super long, and I still haven’t decided if I’m going to go super in depth into the OC’s past. I really just wanted the chance to write something sweet and smutty for our Joel. And Ellie. I love them both so much don’t loOK AT ME

This takes place 2 years after the pair move into Jackson. OC came along halfway through their first year, so the 3 have had 1.5 years of time spent together so far. In this, Ellie has forgiven Joel for his mistakes and continues to have a healthy relationship with him, though it does still very much bother her now and then.

As far as WARNINGS go, this is an 18+ fic, and I fully intend on keeping it that way. Possible triggers may include sexually abusive language, especially in this first chapter, sexual language and situations (aka SMUT Y’ALL), cursing, gore, death, apocalypse horrors and I’m sure a number of other adult themes. So please, please don’t read if you’re underage. I say that with care, not contempt. 

That being said, I hope you enjoy what I’ve come up with so far. :) If interested, this is the song that inspired the title of this chapter. I felt like it fit really well. 

She had no idea how she’d ended up in this insane situation. Four men with their guns drawn on her, her own gun pointed right at the leader’s forehead as Ellie did as she was asked and stayed behind her. Ellie had no gun on her, just her trusty knife. But they hadn’t thought much of it since Charlotte had her gun, they were hardly out of Jackson to feel true concern. They got complacent. And now, they were in deep shit.

She must actually be afraid if she’s listening. She never listens. God dammit, I have to get her out of this…

“How…how about we make a deal? Hmm? I go with you. Willingly. But you let the girl go,” she says, working hard as hell to keep her voice from quivering as all the possibilities of torture flash across her mind.

“Charlotte…no. NO! You can’t – “

“Quiet, Ellie! I mean it!” she cuts the girl behind her off, her heart breaking at how angry she has to make herself sound so Ellie will hopefully head her suggestion. Charlotte feels Ellie relent as she presses her small body against Charlotte’s back, her forehead coming to rest between her shoulder blades. Charlotte understands the sweet gesture and what it means. She can feel the girl’s anger and love radiating off her. She’s warm, and Charlotte lets herself compartmentalize this nice feeling for another time, when she’ll have to escape inside her own mind just to survive.

I know, honey. I’m sorry. But there’s no other way.

The group of men in front of them snicker and look at each other in a way that makes her stomach twist into a knot.

“Now why in the hell would we do that? You’re both pretty, young things. Especially that one…could be a mighty nice opportunity, trainin’ her to be our little slave,” the leader replies, and she feels her face contort with rage at the sick filth coming out of his mouth.

“We can either all die, right here, right now, or you accept my offer. If not, I’ll put a bullet in your fucking skull, and when one of you shoot me, Ellie will run. Now both of your little fuck-toys are gone. Kinda’ defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”, she hisses at them, her eyes drifting onto each one of them, sizing them up.

Ellie can outrun them. She can do it. I know she can.

Just as she’s about to risk it all and pull the trigger, the man lowers his gun and smirks at her.

“Fine. You’ll just have to care of all of us, then. You think you’re strong, sweetie? Oh, we are gonna’ ruin you,” he says, his dark eyes glittering terribly. Charlotte lets out a long breath she didn’t realize she was holding and gives him one sharp nod, her arm still holding the gun at him.

“Okay. Good. She runs away first, though. Only then do I drop this gun. Then I’m all yours, boys,” she replies, noticing how monotone her voice has become, completely devoid of emotion.

Maybe I’m numb. That’s probably a good thing.

She hears Ellie curse in rage behind her, but before the girl can protest, Charlotte turns her head to the side and lets her eyes find Ellie’s. They are angry, terrified pools of forest green, and her heart clenches hard at how torn she looks.

“It’s okay, Ellie. Go on. It’s okay,” Charlotte whispers to her, giving the girl a smile only reserved for her.

She looks as if she’s about to say something, her mouth parting slightly, but she’s quickly cut off.

“Ellie. We only got one shot at this. Don’t make it all for nothing. Go. Go, Ellie. Now!” she manages to ground out, sparks of agony twisting its way through her veins. Not because she’s scared, but because she knows this is goodbye. Her mind briefly wanders to Joel, picturing his face as he smirks at her and Ellie for doing something weird or obnoxious (which was most of the time). Picturing his dark eyes looking into hers on occasion, which never failed to make her stomach flip flop like a little kid with a crush.

“We’ll come back for you,” Ellie whispers fiercely into her ear, making sure to step to the side and glare acidly at the men, and without another word, the girl turns and starts sprinting away, her form getting smaller and smaller as she distances herself. Not until she’s over the large hill they’d come down does Charlotte sigh in relief, turning her head back to the men.

“Give it five minutes. I’m not stupid, I don’t want you just hunting her down after I give you my gun,” she says matter-of-factly, and the man raises his hands in a passive gesture as he backs up a step and then crosses his arms in wait.

Charlotte hardly registers the conversation a couple of them are having, but she hears enough that she has to physically hold back a shudder of disgust. The time comes and goes in what feels like both seconds and eons, and finally, she slowly lowers her arm and clicks the safety back on, letting the gun fall from her hand into the grass with a soft ‘thump’.

This is actually happening. Shit. But she got away. That’s all that matters. She got away.

“Good girl,” he mocks her in false praise before holding out his hand for hers to take.

She swallows the bile rising in her throat and lets herself remember one last day in the sun with Ellie and Joel. A perfect day, when they were happy, when she’d held Ellie down and tickled her into a laughing fit that made even the unbreakable Joel chuckle and shake his head in amusement. The dinners with Maria and Tommy, in their house which always felt like a haven. The townspeople she’d grown to love like family.

I’ll miss you all so fucking much.

Then, the moment was gone, and all that remained was the hand that would lead her to the end of what her spirit could endure. She takes it and says goodbye to the way things were only hours ago.

══════════════════

Charlotte is jerked awake by the sound of someone’s gruff voice near her, and suddenly, she’s slapped hard across the face. She gasps, blinking furiously while trying to see through the blur of her vision who had hit her. She tries to bring her arms up to protect her face, but she realizes slowly that her wrists and ankles are tied to the chair she’s in. Things come into focus then, the panic of being restrained sharpening her attentions, and she sees the leader of the gang bending down to leer at her, his hands resting on his thighs.

“’Bout fuckin’ time. Been waiting for hours for you to grace us with your presence,” he drawls nastily, and she looks around the small, dingy room and notices it’s just the two of them. The walls and floors are made of concrete, and the only light available are the small rays of sunlight pushing their way through a tiny window high on the wall.

“Did…why did you knock me out, you bastard? I thought…you said – “ He laughs derisively and slaps his thigh in glee, stepping back to walk over to a decrepit old desk that’s covered in various instruments. Deadly looking instruments.

“You really think I give a shit about fuckin’ you, girl? Nah, I’ve got bigger fish to fry,” he replies, picking up a knife that glints ominously in the small bit of sunlight. “We know you two must’ve come from Jackson. We’ve been working for weeks trying to find a way in without being shot, and lo and behold, we come across you two!”

She snorts, despite the consistent throbbing in her head from being cold cocked with his gun and relaxes her head back against the chair casually.

“And you think I can help you…what, sneak in? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, buddy, but it’s impossible. Truly, there’s no fuckin’ way,” she replies with ease, and for the first time since they’d met, she’s being honest with him. It just wasn’t possible.

“I was thinking of something a bit more…motivating. To the people guarding it. Now, I can’t imagine why anyone would give a rats ass whether you live or die, but I’m banking of the fact that they probably don’t wanna’ see you tortured slowly until you die,” he says smoothly as he saunters towards her, slowly making a circle around her.

She feels a jolt of fear course through her, not about being tortured, but about what they’ll do if they see her…would they give in?

God, I hope not.

“They won’t give up an entire community of good people for me, if that’s what you’re wondering. None of us would, for any one person,” she replies, her jaw clenching as she feels his presence behind her where he comes to a stop.

“That so? Hmmm. Well, I think it’s worth a shot, don’t you?” he chuckles darkly before one of his hands comes to wrap itself around her throat in warning.

“Whatever you say, boss. It’s your show, not mine,” she hisses through clenched teeth, wanting so badly to recoil from his touch.

Fuck. This could be bad. Really, really bad.

“Good girl. Let’s get started then.”

Without warning, he stabs the knife deep into the meat of her shoulder, and a sound she doesn’t even realize she can make is ripping its way out of her throat. The unbearable pain is like nothing she’d ever felt as he twists the blade inside, and instead of crying, she roars. Even through the haze of agony, she refuses to let tears fall.

“Aw, I know, honey. But if you cooperate, we’ll save the brutal shit for the townspeople. Have to give them a good show, y’know?” he says as he grips her braid and yanks her head back hard enough to where she can look up into his eyes at an upside-down angle.

She spits into his face in rage, surmising that if this is her last day on earth, she wasn’t going to go out without a fight.

He yanks the knife out of her body and her back arches unnaturally in her chair as she screams again, all anger and no surrender. He walks around to the front of her now, his face far less at ease as he wipes her spit off angrily with the back of his hand.

“Little bitch likes it rough, huh? That’s fine with me.” He then swiftly sinks the blade into her thigh, crouching down close to see her expression. She almost goes deaf from the sound of her own scream in the small room, and out of instinct and adrenaline, starts thrashing against her restraints in earnest.

“What’s that? You want more?” he asks, his expression mockingly soft as he places his free hand against her cheek. She turns quickly and bites a couple of his fingers as hard she can, picturing her canines cracking the bones in half. He wrestles his fingers out of her mouth as he yelps in pain and surprise, then looks at her incredulously as her chest rises and falls rapidly. She stares straight into his eyes, her mouth now filling with a copper taste, and she gives him a bloody, feral smile.

“Do you?” she whispers, and her voice is acid. He blinks a few times before his face twists into rage and he starts to fumble with his belt before ripping it off. She doesn’t have time to anticipate what his intentions are before he’s stomping around to the back of her as he quickly wraps the belt around her throat, squeezing harder, harder, until little white spots start to erupt across her vision.

“Fuckin’ cocky bitch, I’m gonna’ make you wish you would’ve turned into one of those fucking monsters when you had the chance,” he rasps against her ear, but she can barely hear him through the sound of the blood rushing behind her ears. Her heart is trying, and failing, to keep her alive, and the panic of truly not being able to breathe hits like a freight train. She’s turning absolutely animalistic under her restraints, knocking the chair side to side in her desperate attempt to breathe, to escape.

Please, please, air! Please, god!

She’s practically deaf now as the room starts to shrink, dimming around her like theatres used to do before a movie started.

This is it. Oh, god, this is it…

Just as she’s slipping over the precipice of unconsciousness, the belt slackens, causing her to breathe in a horribly painful, ragged breath that claws its way down into her lungs. She immediately starts coughing so hard that she’s barely able to suck in the sweet, precious air given to her, and nothing matters more at this moment than filling her lungs with it greedily. She feels an agonizing pain start to ripple through her shoulder, and then an almost unbearable sensation of the knife being pulled out of her leg in a swift, precise motion. She screams again, her cry broken and raspy after her throat was crushed so tightly by the belt.

“…….hear me?”

“…………I’m here….”

A low, gentle voice rumbles into her senses from across the world and she wonders for a moment if she’s already dead.

She cracks open her eyes as she feels light pressure being applied to her wounds and realizes there must be people here. She croaks out a feeble warning.

“Who…don’t touch – “

She hears it again then, that low cadence of baritone hushing her gently, wrapping something around her leg.

Her understanding seeps back into her brain as her eyes finally start to clear, although things are still a bit blurry as the intense pain throbs and flows through her.

Then, all at once, fear grips her heart hard as memories come flashing back into sharp focus behind her eyes.

Ellie. ELLIE.

“Where’s Ellie?! ELLIE!” she screams, her voice cracking in panic again as the figure of…Joel?…comes into focus before her. Suddenly, she’s awake. Truly awake.

“She’s fine, Char. She’s okay, she’s right here with me, see?” Joel says in a shockingly gentle voice she’d never heard him use before. Not with her, at least. Sure enough, Ellie pauses tending to her shoulder and walks around to look at her, taking her hand gently. The expression on her face breaks Charlotte’s heart.

“God, they really fucked her up, Joel,” the young girl says with a wince that held equal parts compassion and fury as she surveys Charlotte properly.

“Barely…barely a scratch,” she mutters, grinning crookedly at them before furrowing her brows in pain again and letting her head fall back against the chair.

I’m so tired. But I’m safe. Because of them…is this really even happening?

Before she can say anything more, Joel is gingerly scooping her off the chair – when did her restraints come off? – and starts to make his way out of the building with Ellie in tow.

“We know, tough guy,” Joel whispers to her, the barest hint of a smile in his tone as he jostles her into a sturdier embrace. She can’t help but let out a small whimper and she hears him curse under his breath at himself for being too rough. Her vision is starting to grow a bit fuzzy around the edges, and a feeling of calm starts to wash over her as he holds her close.

Suck it up, buttercup. He just saved your ass. Don’t make him feel bad.

In and out, her consciousness weaves as she registers a few bodies here and there on their way out, Ellie marching resolutely in front of them. Joel is so warm, and he’s breathing hard from having to support all of her weight, but he doesn’t slow down for a second. The light of the already darkening day starts to seep into black and white as she starts to black out, and her mind can only think of Joel and Ellie.

They’re okay. She’s okay.

“I’m sorry, Joel…my fault…I’m sorry,” she grumbles groggily into his shoulder, guilt snaking its way into her heart. She’d put Ellie at serious risk. Now, she was doing it again, but this time with Joel in tow.

I’m supposed to protect her. Not the other way around.

“S’all right, sweetheart. Just hang in there. We’ll be home soon,” he replies, and she can feel the comforting vibrations from his chest as he speaks. She giggles lightly at the pet name, her mental awareness no longer coinciding with reality anymore.

“Sweetheart…” she whispers in a small voice, burrowing her face into him closely enough that her lips graze the pulse point beneath his strong jaw. He inhales sharply through his nose and squeezes her a little tighter in his arms but doesn’t reply. Ellie jogs further ahead to keep an eye out, gun in hand as Joel does his best to move as quietly as possible.

The ground starts to be swallowed up by the sky, and she wants to stay awake so badly, but she just can’t. She slackens her hold around Joel’s neck and her body slumps in his arms, all of the fight leaving her at once. She hears him pleading, jostling her a bit to get her attention, but she just can’t. She just needs to rest, just for a minute.

“M’sorry…so tired…” she mumbles before the darkness floods her vision and the world is swallowed by silence.

[thepeakyfckingblinders]

Răbĭēs || Michael Gray x reader

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested:  16 + 19 with michael please? xx Summary:  n.16 & 19 from my prompt list:  “Another’s hands on her skin” + “I’ll burn this fucking place down”. (Thomas being completely reckless here, shocker, I know)

Warnings: violence, heavy drinking, obviously swearing 

Author’s notes:

I’m sorry for being this late, so so so sorry! I also forgot to tag you @namelesslosers, forgive me babe

The title is actually a Latin word, I LOVE LATIN SO DAMN MUCH, indeed I added its meaning as an intro for the piece, please tell me if you liked this idea

In this imagine the boys didn’t destroy The Marquis pub (at least not yet), plus the Changrettas attacked Arthur instead of Grace.

There’s a quote written in Italian in the middle of the script, it’s marked by an asterisk and you’ll find its translation at the end of the page.

Let me know what you think and tell me if this is what you expected  ♡

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

I FINALLY EDITED THIS IMAGINE, SO I HOPE IT’S BETTER NOW

I AM SO TRULY SORRY I DID SUCH A RUSHED WORK THIS TIME, FORGIVE ME, IT WAS A LONG AND HARD DAY, I NEEDED SOME OTHER TIME TO DO THINGS PROPERLY

ENJOY!

Răbĭēs feminine noun V declension 1. fury, rage, violence 2. madness, frenzy 3. amorous passion

“Tell me again why it had to be her” Michael’s voice came out in a growl, hampered by his clenched teeth, as he tensely moved on his chair, mechanically adjusting his classy pinstripe suit. He was unutterably furious because, that time more than any other, Thomas had seriously gone too far, to say the least. In fact, after John’s unpleasant encounter with Angelo Changretta, the Italian clan had started threatening the Peaky Blinders and, a few days later, two of their youngest recruits somehow managed to attack Arthur while he was alone on his way home, in the early hours of the morning.

Luckily, no grievous harm had come to the eldest Shelby, those inexperienced and undisciplined kids had only been able to leave a slight knife wound in his left side, but nevertheless, the whole family agreed that such an affront had to be punished. As a result, Tommy got to collect all sorts of information about the Changrettas thanks to his uncountable contacts in Birmingham and London, still that wasn’t enough to take actual action. He needed to hear what the Italians’ intentions were straight from their men’s mouth, so he inconsiderately decided to drag you in that dirty mess by asking you to charm one of their henchmen and obtain as many details as possible about their plans. It goes without saying that you immediately accepted his proposal, tired of not being helpful in any way, you were desperately longing for a chance to show them you were able to cope with that kind of business as well. For this reason, you didn’t think twice about it, not even when Michael found out and firmly objected to the idea of exposing his girlfriend to such a danger. So there you were: Tommy, John and Michael lurking in a secret room of The Marquis pub, two more blinders watching at the main entrance, while you sat alone at the bar, in all your magnificent beauty, patiently waiting for your target to show up. “ ‘Cause that fucking eyetie is almost a kid, we needed a young girl, a clever one, and that’s y/n, now just shut up ” Without blinking an eye at Michael’s totally justified rage, Thomas nonchalantly cleared his throat and spat that sharp answer with his typical adamant tone, then he opened his cigarette case handing it to his cousin, as if a simple smoke could repay him for the hell he was literally going through.

“That’s my girl, Tom! Christ, those people are dangerous!” Michael’s fists aggressively collided with the round table they were sitting to, and the crystal glasses full of whisky upon it alarmingly quaked, producing a disturbing tinkle that filled the room, together with his heavy breaths. “I don’t see much of a problem with that since she fucks you, a bloody gangster” Tommy’s lips, already tensed in a harsh grin, threw out that inflammatory remark as he lethargically played with the half empty cup in his right hand, his blue eyes fixed on the dark liquor swaying. And this time Michael definitely lost his temper, his face twitched with pure fury as he abruptly stood from his seat, without a second thought he would’ve rabidly pounced on Thomas, had it not been for John’s quick hands that promptly grabbed his shoulders in order to keep him in his place. “Hey! You’re acting like two fucking children” John blurted out, his low voice had the air quivering around their solid figures, then he moderately poked Michael’s neck in hope to put some sense back into him “Shit, you have to control yourself, kid! We need to stay focused on what’s important right now” As the middle brother surprisingly tried to act like the grown-up for once, they saw your elegant silhouette sneaking in the private room strategically located in front of them, so that they could have a clear visual on what was happening in there without being seen. You giggled in a flirtatious way, holding hands with the Italian guy -whose name turned out to be Salvatore- in order to lead him exactly where you wanted him to be. At that sight Michael rudely finished his drink in a single swig, before lighting the umpteenth cigarette of the night in attempt to calm his nerves, but then again he saw the bloke’s fingers ably linger your cheek and go down your neck while the two of you kept talking about only God knew what, and his blind rage inexorably erupted afresh. “You want me to stay here, nice and quiet, watching another’s hands on her skin without doing anything, that’s bullshit!” He angrily snarled, his fingers going through his short hair in a convulsive movement. John rolled his eyes at those words and boldly put on a taunting smirk as soon as the cigar he was smoking left his lips. “C’mon, Shakespeare, stop being so dramatic over this” But he immediately bowed his head in discomfort, when Thomas and Michael simultaneously sent him a menacing glare; in the meanwhile Salvatore tantalizingly leant towards your face, whispering in your ear with his strong accent something about how he’d like to feel your body against his, and you suddenly began to fear the potential developments of that risky situation. Michael, on the other hand, was now furiously walking up and down the place, it really felt like he was suffocating and he knew he couldn’t stand anything like that for much longer. “If that fucker gets that close to her again, I swear I’ll burn this fucking place down!” Exactly when his brutal voice came out in a frenetic shout, by sheer coincidence, he found himself watching one of the guy’s hands avidly grip your thigh left exposed by the slit of the glittering dress you were wearing; you instantly tried to push the stranger away, yet he was too strong in comparison and his filthy mouth overwhelmingly ended upon the hot skin of your neck.

John didn’t even have the time to fully pronounce the word “fuck” alone, that Michael already stormed in the room, he had raw hate burning in his eyes and sharp breaths shaking his body as he took heavy steps in your direction. “E tu chi cazzo sei?”* that was the only thing Salvatore was able to say, before your boyfriend roughly pulled him off you, punching him in the face multiple times and then forcing him to get down on his knees by holding a hand around his throat, nearly choking him on the spot. You had never seen him in such a state, your Michael was always sweet and caring, rarely nervous and even less violent, the one busy killing a man in front of your eyes was a complete different person, and that realization scared you to death. “John, get her out of here, now!” His tone brooked no arguments as he kept tightening his grip on the boy, despite your screams and prayers to stop; eventually Johnny obeyed to that severe order, dragging you out of the pub with no hesitation and leaving Thomas and Michael alone with their prey. “This bastard needs to learn a fucking lesson.”

*E tu chi cazzo sei? = Who the fuck are you?

[whentommymetalfie]

The Right Track 

A/N: Well here’s my first installment of an omegaverse AU, which at the moment is mainly focused on ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’. If you’d like a tiny bit of background for the AU before reading, check out this HC 

Summary: Tommy has some news for Alfie, but struggles to tell him. And it doesn't help that Alfie is terribly distracted and doesn't seem to have time for him right now. But Tommy tries, still. 

Pairing: Alfie x Tommy 

Notes/warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mpreg, brief discussion about abortion 

Wordcount: 4700

The Garrison is empty. And even though Tommy quite enjoys the bustle of a Friday evening when it’s full to the brim, this is a welcome respite. Especially considering the circumstances. One of the perks with working at the pub (besides the obvious fact that it’s the only real job related to the family business anyone will let him come within a ten mile radius of) is that there’s at least one place in the world that he’s got some kind of control over.

Today he’s exerted that control by flipping the sign to ‘closed’ and locking the door.

”You have to tell him at some point, you know.” Ada looks up from her whiskey. The second one she’s poured herself since he told her the news.

Tommy stirs his tea with a straw that he’s fished out from a box behind the bar, just to have something to occupy his hands with.

“I know. I’m just… trying to find the right moment.”

“He’ll notice on his own sooner or later, otherwise,” Ada points out. “He’s not the clueless kind of alpha.”

“I know.”

“And how are you going to explain it when you spend every morning hunched over the toilet when the morning sickness hits? There’s only so many times he’ll buy a hangover excuse-“

“Ada.”

She throws her hands up in defeat, but the wrinkle between her eyebrows remain as she gives him a thoughtful look.

“Are you thinking of getting rid of it?”

“No!” Tommy exclaims and his hand shoots up to cover his belly before he can even understand what is happening. He quickly drops it back onto his lap and tries to will down the heat rising to his cheeks.

“It’s your body, Tommy, and if you feel that you’re not ready, no one can tell you what to do with it,”  Ada says, sounding like a politician who’s about to give a well- practiced speech “There’s nothing wrong-“

“Ada, please, not now,” Tommy says and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Save it for those fucking rallies.”

Ada harrumphs loudly.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to participate in those fucking rallies, it’s about your rights.

Tommy snorts. “Well then it’s also my right not to go and watch you ramble about shit you have no actual experience with. Stick to riling up the other alphas down in the factories.”

“Gender and class is linked. And me being an alpha doesn’t mean that I can’t-“

Tommy waves his hand dismissively, humming around the edge of his teacup in an attempt to stop this before it becomes a lecture. Any other day Ada would’ve been hurt, but he seems to get a free pass today due to the circumstances, so she just pushes herself off the bar disk to pace in front of it while Tommy buys himself some time and finishes his tea.

Once the cup is empty, he stares down at the tealeaves.

“I do want the baby,” he says after a long silence. “And I’m going to tell Alfie. It’s just that I-“

He cuts himself off because he can’t bring himself to say that last part –‘I want it to be special’. Because it sounds so stupid. Like he’s some wide eyed little thing who’s at home hanging fucking lacy curtains in the kitchen window, baking and waiting for their spouse to come home. But truth is he wants it to be special. He wanted to tell Alfie the second he suspected he might be pregnant. But then he waited, just to make sure. And once he was utterly sure -after a long conversation with Grace on the matter that he’d rather forget- it felt strange to simply… go home and tell Alfie. And the longer he’s waited, the more doubts have begun appearing, sinking their claws into his head and refusing to let go. What if Alfie doesn’t want a baby, when it really comes down to it? It’s so easy to just talk: Paint a pretty picture of what it’d be like, having a baby, start a family all of their own. ‘Maybe they’d have your eyes love? Imagine that!’

It's easy to talk. Now it’s suddenly reality.

Then he feels guilty.

This is Alfie. His Alfie. Tommy should have more faith in him. And Alfie was the one who brought up the idea of children in the first place, so why on earth wouldn’t he be thrilled about it? Logically, Tommy knows all this. He only needs to get all the anxious thoughts to listen.

“I’ll tell him,” he says to Ada, realising he’s been quiet for far too long. He fidgets with the edge of the straw. “Tonight.”  

Ada’s scent, sage and leather-bound books, surrounds him. Then there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m so happy for you, Tom. For both of you.”

She’s smiling. He can tell, even though he’s staring down at the bark disk. And he feels right then, that he’s happy too. A bubbling, sparkling kind of happiness that manages to drown out all the worry.

….

Turns out that once he’s made up his mind, he can’t possibly wait until tonight. So he goes to the brewery down by the docks to search out Alfie in his office, with renewed courage and a new lightness in his chest. Alfie will be happy. Thrilled, even.

“Afternoon, Thomas,” Eli greets him by the entrance with a smile and a polite nod. “The boss is in his office. Can you find the way yourself or do you want someone to accompany you?”

Tommy only rewards the question with a raised eyebrow, so Eli shrugs, continuing to smile politely and gestures for him to enter.

He ignores the curious stares from the various alphas milling about in the brewery, and quickly makes is way on towards the center of the building. He opens the door without knocking.

Alfie is sitting by his desk, hunched over a pile of papers and his heart, as always, skips a beat. He glances up when Tommy enters.

“You know I don’t like it when you wander around here on your own,” he grunts. “We’ve been over that. Not safe enough, these parts. Not yet, at least.”

Any other day, Tommy would simply roll his eyes at this. But now his stomach just clenches with worry. Alfie flips through a pile of papers. And Tommy finds himself just standing there, full of a strange new uncertainty. But then Alfie glances up and smiles a little.

“Sorry, sweetheart, that’s no way to greet the love of one’s life now, is it?” He gets up from his chair with some difficulty and beckons Tommy closer with a wave. “As well as husband and cherished mate. Go on, come here and give us a kiss.”

Tommy walks up to him, calmed by his mate’s scent the second it envelops him and allows Alfie to pull him in for a chaste kiss. Tea, pine needles and freshly baked bread. Home. Alfie lets go quicker than he would’ve liked and seats himself behind the desk again.

“So, any particular reason I’m blessed with your fair visage, or did you just miss me?” he asks, turning his attention back to the documents.  

Tommy tries to gather back his resolve. But something just feels… wrong now.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says, feeling stupid the second he utters the words. Alfie only hums in acknowledgement, forehead creased and eyes fastened on the numbers in front of him. Tommy decides that it’s better to just have it over and done with, to hell with the consequences, takes a deep breath and-

And that’s when Alfie’s phone rings.

He answers and gestures for Tommy to sit in the leather armchair by the bookshelf, his usual spot when spending time in Alfie’s office. Tommy doesn’t sit, instead he walks over to the window and looks out at the docks, trying to focus all his attention on what is happening outside. One of the barges have just docked, and large crates are being hauled from the deck, up onto land. A woman on a black horse rides past, and the horse shies away when a crate lands heavily on the cobbled street. Tommy watches the animal with undivided interest and tires to focus on that instead of his thundering heart.

Behind him, Alfie is speaking rapidly to someone in Yiddish. The horse and the woman disappears around a corner.

“Sorry, love, but I have some work to get to,” Alfie says and it takes a moment for Tommy to realise he’s speaking to him. He turns to watch Alfie rise from the desk and walk over to the hangers by the door, shrugging into his coat. He perches his hat on top of his head and grips his cane. “Shit that can’t wait, apparently. And the quicker I get to it, the quicker I can pay undivided attention to you.”

“Alright,” Tommy says, and hates how small his voice sounds. And he fucking hates the way his throat feels all tight.

Gently ushering him out the door, Alfie starts barking orders to someone at the opposite side of the brewery as he leads Tommy towards the exit.

“So, where should we drop you off, love?” He asks as they step out onto the street and waves for the driver to pull up.

Tommy shakes his head. “I’ll walk.”

Alfie furrows his brow, looking less than pleased. He scans the docks. Squints up at the sun, still quite a bit above the horizon. “Fine. But don’t let your aunt know. She thinks I’m being sloppy with your safety already. Fuckin’ell as if you’re not a grown, fully capable adult. And on top of that, I think that I’m in fact very thorough with everything where your well-being is concerned. Offensive, is what it is-“  

The car rolls up beside them. Alfie’s two employees wait for him to get in and he gives Tommy a final, questioning look. Tommy shakes his head again.  

“Fine. I’ll see you tonight, pet,” Alfie says and kisses his cheek, but his eyes are drifting. “I should be home in time for dinner. I’ll make you something nice, alright? To make up for this.”

Then he climbs into the front seat of the car, the two men get in the back, and soon, Tommy is alone on the street outside the brewery. All the bubbling happiness from before has died down to a small pitiful lump at the pit of his stomach.

He doesn’t go to the stables. Or the Garrison. Being around other people feels like an unbearable thought, and Grace is already covering for him. So instead he just goes home. The walk helps a little to clear his head. Alfie is just busy: things are always hectic right before a shipment, and Tommy’s got no fucking right to sulk about it. Still, it’s hard to completely rid himself of the unease. And he decides that he still needs to tell Alfie today, because the longer he’s alone with this, the louder all the anxious thoughts become.

Once he gets home, he decides that he’ll take care of the cooking, for once.

Tommy fucking hates to cook. It’s the principle of the thing: the utter unfairness that he was the only one of his siblings expected to spend time in the kitchen. Because it’s not an alphas job to cook, so why would any of them have to learn it? But that doesn’t mean that he can’t cook. And since Alfie never expects him to, and gladly takes care of both that and the dishes as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Tommy doesn’t mind it so much anymore. So he cooks.

He picks carefully among Alfie’s recipes and chooses one of his favorites.

The unease does simmer down as he stands there carefully slicing carrots into even pieces. Alfie is more appreciative of the rare instances when he cooks than Tommy deserves, and the thought of making him happy loosens the knot in his stomach.

He sets the table, takes care of the dishes and wipes down all the surfaces in the kitchen until it’s spotless. Glances at the clock. Alfie should be home soon. A bit of the earlier excitement is back; He can imagine what he’ll look like when he tells him, how happy he’ll be, how his eyes will light up. Maybe he’ll give Tommy one of those adoring looks, as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. When Alfie looks at him like that, Tommy can almost believe him.

He has time to wash up before dinner, so he does that too. Wants to smell nice for Alfie, wants to look good for him- While he does he practices quietly to say those words, to make sure he’s prepared. I’m pregnant. It feels strange and frightening but somehow wonderful all at the same time in an overwhelming cocktail. He looks at his reflection in the mirror. Runs a hand over his stomach, which is still completely flat. Tries to imagine how it’ll look, how it’ll feel once the baby is a bit bigger, but it’s difficult because it’s so utterly surreal. Still, there’s an ounce of excitement at the idea. Not that he cares looking into where the excitement comes from, but it’s definitely there.

Back in the kitchen, he tastes the soup and decides that it’s alright. Good, even. He’ll never be quite as good as Alfie at cooking, simply because he doesn’t care enough, but it’s easy, following a recipe. And he wants it to be good. To make Alfie happy. He glances at the clock on the wall.

Alfie is a little late.

Tommy wipes down the counter again, even though it’s already clean. After some thought he lights a candle on the table.

He stirs the soup and lowers the heat on the stove a little.

Then he sits down by the table and waits. Tries to not imagine all the things that could be keeping Alfie from coming home…

It’s dark outside when the worry becomes too much to handle and he calls the office. Ollie picks up. But no, nothing has happened. He’d be the first to know if the meeting had gone wrong.

“Fucking Italians, always drag these things out. But that’s nothing to worry about. He’ll be home any minute now.”

Tommy hangs up and returns to the table.

He fidgets with a napkin, pulling at the threads. Tries to avoid looking at the clock.

When the darkness outside has turned from dusky gray to pitch black  and Alfie still hasn’t come home, he quietly blows out what is left of the candle, puts the dishes back in their cupboards and goes upstairs.

He undresses, carefully putting all the garments on the appropriate hangers. Puts on his nightshirt, one of Alfie’s old flannel shirts. Then he crawls into bed and curls up on his side, staring at the opposite wall, arms wrapped tightly around his middle.

This is what it’ll be like. This is what you signed up for. You’ll be here, all alone with the baby, pacing back and forth and waiting for Alfie to come home. Is this the life you wanted?

For a long moment that seems to stretch into an eternity he thinks about how it’s not too late yet -he hasn’t told Alfie. He could still-

Keys rattle in the multiple locks on the front door.

Then, Alfie’s steps come up the stairs, and the bedroom door creaks open. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut. The mattress dips behind him.

“Tommy?” Alfie’s voice is soft and his scent makes Tommy’s throat close up.

He swallows. It’s a lost battle, pretending to be asleep. Alfie always knows.

So he makes a noise, a quiet sort of hum.

“You’d made dinner.”

The tears are burning behind his closed eyelids now, and he tries to force down that lump in his throat before making another hum. Tries to sound at ease.

“I’m so sorry I was late, the meeting dragged on. I should’ve called you.”

“It’s fine.” Tommy whispers. He bites his tongue and wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Fuck this is pathetic. There’s something so deeply humiliating about the whole thing; about putting fucking effort in, about falling into some old stereotype he swore he’d never become-

“No, no it’s not fine. Fucking unacceptable is what it is.” Alfie’s fingers scratch gently in the nape of his neck. “You’d made everything so nice. And I know you hate cooking-“ Tommy can hear the little smile in his voice. He wants to say that he doesn’t hate cooking, he’ll do it for Alfie, he’ll do anything as long as he promises not to leave. And he fucking hates that instinct.

The distress is rolling off him in waves now, seeping out of his pores and wilting the floral scent that he’s loathed all his life. Up until the very moment he met Alfie.  

Tommy curls further into his protective ball when Alfie lies down behind him and pulls him close.

“I’m sorry,” Alfie repeats and presses a kiss in the nape of his neck.

But he can’t answer, because if he focuses on anything other than gritting his teeth together, he’ll begin to cry. As if this whole thing hasn’t been humiliating enough already.

Alfie is patient. He’s always been, when it comes to this. So he’s quiet for a long while.

“Well, the meeting couldn’t have gone worse,” he sighs, suddenly. Tommy keeps biting his tongue. “Fucking… Sabini. Absolutely impossible to have anything to do with. I’ll have a fucking Italian uproar on the rise back in London after this.”

It piques Tommy’s interest. Always does. It’s just the way his brain works -give it a few pieces and it’ll instantly begin laying a puzzle with them, whether he likes it or not. It distracts him enough for the lump to sink down a little.

“Thought Sabini refused to go to Birmingham for meetings?” he asks and manages to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“He does. Arrogant piece of shit. Sent some of his goons. The slightly less idiotic ones. Mostly to let me know that with his man in New York wanting a bigger cut, he’ll only pay me fuckin half of his usual prize for the product. Un-fucking-believable. That's what I get for delivering him high quality rum...”

“You could start exporting it yourself. Cut the middle man.” He pauses, waits for an interruption that never comes, and then adds: “Vincent Changretta’s got a son in New York who imports liquor.”

“He does?”

Tommy hums. “Luca Changretta. His father likes me. I could probably get you in contact with him.”

He pictures Vicente Changretta, seated by the café table down by Highbury Park, cigar in hand and a glass of wine in the other, beckoning him over with a wave. Sweetheart, why don’t you come and sit here for a bit? Keep an old man company? Tommy does sometimes, because having a good relationship with the Italians could be useful, even though aunt Pol would definitely disapprove if she knew he was meddling in the business. And Vicente is nice enough for an aging alpha; always offers him a drink in the most polite way, and when Tommy listens to his many stories of ‘the old country’, he occasionally pats his hand gently in a grandfatherly manner that Tommy finds strangely endearing and only mildly annoying for some reason.

“And then I tell Sabini that unless he decides to pay up, he’ll be out of the whole operation?”

“Mhm.”

Alfie is quiet. Then he leans over Tommy’s shoulder and kisses him square on the mouth, resting all his weight on his elbow as he grins at him.

“You’re fucking brilliant. You and your mind. Always working a hundred miles an hour, innit?”  

A jolt of happiness flips at the pit of his stomach. It’s not like this is a particularly brilliant plan or even a hard situation to solve, but still, he’s not used to this kind of approval of his ideas.

“Not very hard to figure out,” he says and allows himself a faint smile. Alfie raises both eyebrows.

“You calling me stupid, love?”

“Maybe a little.”

Snorting with indignation, Alfie settles back onto the mattress and pulls him closer to his chest. He is quiet for a little bit, running a hand up and down his side, fingers featherlight over the fabric of his nightshirt.

“Sabini’s gonna be fuckin pissed,” he says. “Could end in with all sorts of violence if we’re not careful, that.”

“Depends on how you put it. Set up the meeting in London. Be polite about it, and bring a gift. Sabini likes that. Gestures and so on. ”

Alfie hums and says with genuine confusion, “Fuck, why didn’t I think of… any of this?”

“Because your solution is often to just tell people to go fuck themselves in the most obnoxious way possible.”

Alfie sits up and rolls him over onto his back, pinning him down with what is probably supposed to be a stern look but which most of all comes off as very fond. “Oh, you take that back right now.”

Tommy feels a smirk tug at his lips. “It’s true.”

Alfie huffs. Then, he runs a finger thoughtfully down the side of his face, adding: “Well, to be fair I’ve never claimed to be the more intelligent out of the two of us. So your help is very much appreciated. Maybe you can talk me through what to say beforehand?

“Sure,” Tommy promises. “I’ll write you a list of things to say.”

Alfie smiles down at him. “What have I done to deserve you, eh? All my sins must’ve been overlooked, right, for me to end up with an omega who is not only so beautiful that my fucking lifespan increases with ten years every time I look at him, but who is also the most intelligent-

“Stop-” Heat rises to Tommy’s cheeks and he tries to look away but Alfie grabs his chin.

“The most intelligent, witty,not to mention most beautifulomega in England.” His’s smile seems to widen with every shade of red Tommy’s cheeks darkens. “Sometimes I just think to myself, alright, I sit, and I think and ponder over how lucky I am-“ He needs to tell him. Tommy feels it in his gut right then. If he doesn’t tell him now, he’ll never muster up the courage- “And it’s a true blessing, innit, that your aunt decided to drag you along to my bakery.” Just open your mouth and say it. It’s not that fucking hard.He tries to phrase it: there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.

No, not like that-

“Alfie-“

“And I really should thank her more often,” Alfie goes on. “Because what would my life even be without you in it-“

“Alfie-“ No matter how he tries he can’t seem to find the right words, and Alfie just keeps talking.

“It would be miserable, I tell you, miserable. And I really need to be more appreciative of you-“

Just tell him-

“I’m pregnant.” The words come out too quickly, not wrapped up all neatly like they were supposed to and the silence that hits the room feels like a fucking punch to the gut. Alfie stares down at him, mouth still half open, caught in the middle of a word.

“What?”

Tommy sits up. Tries to breathe and swallow down the panic.

“I’m pregnant,” he repeats. And suddenly the lump in his throat is back, because Alfie just stares at him. “I-I wanted to tell you earlier but I didn’t know how to and- and then you were busy-“

Alfie grabs him by the shoulders. Hard. “Are you sure? Completely, absolutely fucking sure?”

Tommy only manages to nod, overwhelmed by a sudden and unfamiliar urge to cry. Curl up into a ball and hide because Alfie doesn’t want the baby. Maybe it’s him? Maybe Alfie just doesn’t want a baby with Tommy of all people-

Alfie only stares at him for another excruciatingly long moment. But then his eyes well with tears and he blinks. And he smiles, a wide, toothy grin that just lights up his entire face.

“I’m gonna be a dad?”

Happy. Alfie is happy. Finally the realization sinks in, and the relief is so overwhelming that all strength seems to drain from his limbs.

He nods. And suddenly he finds himself being dragged into a tight hug. Alfie pulls him into his lap and crushes him against his chest, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His breathing comes in erratic little bursts, and he holds Tommy so tightly that breathing soon will become an issue. Tommy doesn’t mind in the least. He wraps his arms around Alfie’s neck.

“You’re happy?”  

Alfie pulls away a little and cradles his face between his hands. “Course I’m fucking happy! Fuckin’ell I couldn’t be happier, silly boy.”

“Don’t cry,” Tommy mumbles and wipes at the tears trickling down his cheeks. He lets out a shaky laugh: “You’re gonna make me cry too.”

But it’s a lost cause because he’s already fucking crying. It’s the hormones. He blames this whole thing on those.

“No I’m going to fucking cry, alright, it’s my God given right to cry when I find out that the man I love is carrying my child,” Alfie exclaims and beams at him. He moves back a little, creating space between them so that he can place a hand on Tommy’s belly. “Right here, love. Isn’t that just fucking amazing?”

Tommy leans forward and kisses his nose.

Alfie just keeps smiling down at his belly with this dreamy, almost goofy smile and Tommy savors the moment. Then he suddenly looks up at Tommy with wide eyes. “You haven’t eaten anything!”

Tommy is tempted to ask how he knows that, but Alfie has probably put two and two together so there’s no use denying it.

“Now, you just stay right there, don’t move a fucking inch.” Alfie is already gathering up all the pillows, settling Tommy with his back against them. “I’ll be right up with something to eat. And maybe some… blankets? Yeah we definitely need more of those. Blankets and-”

Still listing things to himself under his breath, Alfie disappears out the door.  

Tommy is tempted to call after him that he’s barely two months along, and if Alfie’s going to be like this for the rest of the pregnancy it’s going to become unbearable. But he doesn’t. Instead he just sits there and waits. And occupies himself with arranging and then rearranging the pillows. Tries different options before settling for having them behind his back and by his sides in a comfortable little half circle that somehow just feels… right.

Alfie soon returns with two bowls of the soup he cooked earlier precariously balanced on a tray and with several blankets under his arms. When Tommy moves to take the tray before an accident occurs Alfie protests so loudly that he’s got no choice but to stay put for fear of actually causing the soup to end up spilled all over the bed. Once the tray has been safely set down on the nightstand, Alfie takes the blankets and spreads them out over him, and Tommy lets him fuss with them until they’re all in acceptable positions, because Alfie looks so incredibly pleased once he’s tucked him in.  

“Remember that you’re eating for two,” he says when he hands him the bowl.

“Can’t wait to hear that for the next seven months,” Tommy mutters but begins to eat, still, as Alfie settles next to him on the bed.

“Oh you’ll hear a whole lot more than that, love. Like… don’t lift that heavy box. Maybe you should sit down for a while? Do you want me to rub your ankles?“ Alfie grins. “I can’t wait to dote on you.”

Tommy huffs.

“You already do.”

“But it’ll be on a whole other level now,” Alfie says. Runs his thumb down Tommy’s cheek. “Gonna treat you and this baby like royalty. Anything you want, you’ll have.”

“I already have everything I want.” The words come to mind easily. And it’s not until he sees the look on Alfie’s face that he realises he said them out loud. But he doesn’t mind so much. It’s true. Especially when Alfie leans in and kisses him.

[transalfiesolomons]

I’ve had to deal w a lot of transphobia the last few days, you have any trans headcanons to spare? 🌸💀

You’ve come to the right place friend. I hope you’re cool with an unanticipatedly large dump of ‘em (specifically on Alfie and Michael) below the cut 

(oh I should mention up front these are all modern au) 

(a quick caveat with this. I talk a little bit about the intersection of being trans and being Jewish and while I try to be as culturally sensitive as possible, I am not myself Jewish, so if anyone reading this has something to add or to correct please please do not hesitate to do so)  

(there’s also probably some sentence fragments and thoughts that trail off because i’m a fool who can’t proofread) 

me: hey just do a few happy ones

also me, 3,000 words later, basically having written two fics: ah,

Alfie –

I.

Alfie Solomons spends a lot of his childhood chasing on the heels of older male cousins, refusing to be cooped up inside with the women of the family. He knows there are things that his cousins will never let their single little girl cousin know or see, condescendingly protecting her from a world that is her birthright just as much as it is theirs. 

He grows up hearing about the “family business” without ever seeing it or knowing anything about it, other than sometimes the police came to rough up family members and make arrests and hurl slurs while they did so. But whether this had anything to do with illegality on his family’s part or just people hating Jews, Alfie never really figured out, only that after such raids his cousins are quieter and afraid and those are the times a place for Alfie opens up among them, a desire to hold family close.

When he was younger, growing up around his father’s extended family in Camden Town, Alfie had pretty constantly railed against not being able to do what his male cousins did and also pretty constantly did that stuff anyway, which garnered him both amusement and consternation from his family who only occasionally attempted to stop him.

The men in the family paid him absolutely no attention, which he felt was wrong for some reason but could never find the words to explain why until much alter in his life, until after he stumbles over the word “transsexual” in a medical diary while waiting for a physical exam and until after he first applies the word to himself. Both of which come when he is already an adult. But even before he knows, it complicates a lot of his life, especially when he came to gender roles in worship. Even after he turned 13, he was not allowed to be part of a minyan which felt wrong until someone explained that it was because he’s a girl and only men can be part of a minyan which felt even more wrong but he didn’t push it because there’s a look on his mother’s face when he asked why that told him this was just one of those things (and there were many, admittedly) that just wasn’t up for debate.

II.

Alfie makes the realization that he’s trans when he is 27. Five years into his enlistment in the British Army, sitting on Basra air base in 2004 during the British-to-American turnover, twiddling his thumbs and sweating his ass off watching supplies be loaded and unloaded on the airstrip. Two months from home for good and suddenly skin-crawlingly aware he doesn’t recognize what he sees in the mirror anymore as himself. He remembers that word then, thinks back to not understanding it at the time, thinking it was strange and wrong, and he spends the rest of the day rolling it (and rolling he, him, his) over on his tongue until its stone-heavy and nearly wrung of meaning.

It’s a sudden and stomach-swooping realization, a long-time-coming clarity that still bowls him over with the sheer force of it.

His last month there, he buzzes his hair just to see how it would be, what it would feel like under his hands. When asked why - and he goes from a regulation cut, but just barely regulation to as short as the clippers will allow him without just shaving his head, so he is asked quite a lot - he claims that the heat just finally got to him and he couldn’t take it anymore. His face is too soft then, a roundness in the cheeks he’d never shed from childhood, to allow him to pass with just a buzz but it gives him a modicum of personal comfort to run his hands over his scalp and feel that soft prickle under his fingers.

He comes home and out-processes from the military and almost immediately jumps into figuring out where the fuck to go from here, pouring over what few online resources he can find and feeling more and more adrift from himself every day. He doesn’t fit into the common narrative of “knew all along” and he doesn’t exactly feel “wrong” in his body (frankly, he’s proud of it) so it’s a long time before he’s able to truly accept that he is transgender and not actively losing his mind and that there isn’t something wrong with him. 

His place as a trans man and his decision to transition put him not necessarily at odds with but in a weird position with his Jewishness. So much of Judaism is split along gender lines: where you sit in temple, what you wear, how you’re addressed, what prayers you lead, what prayers you say, if you can lead prayers at all. It causes a radical reevaluation of where he stands in relation to his faith and to g-d but in the end it wholly reaffirms both his faith and how he feels about himself.There are actually two (incredibly progressive) rabbis that help him - one who reaffirms his identity as a trans man and as a Jewish man and another who tells him in Halachic terms that he can get gender-affirming surgery if it is something he wishes to pursue.

The cool thing about realizing when he did is that Alfie doesn’t have anyone he has (or wants) to come out to - his mother had died some years before, he was estranged from his only (half) sister, he was only ever rarely in contact with any member of his maternal family (spread out between Russia and Israel), and he’d lost contact with his paternal family after his father died when he was eight and his mother moved them away from Camden Town out of fear. He had no close friends or relationships due to his “inability to relate to others” and “aloofness” (the army’s words) and his being “an utter sociopath” (his XO’s words). The not so cool thing is the not inconsiderable amount of loneliness he feels when transitioning alone, celebrating milestones like his first year on T alone, especially when recuperating alone from surgery with only his dog to keep him company (and the complications he didn’t consider - like having to take the dog on walks when he could barely get off the sofa.) But that’s, uh, that’s what alcohol is there for right? 

(Already fit from military training, he dedicates a lot of time during his early transition to weight training and a continuation of the hand-to-hand he learned in basic.) 

III.

His father’s family (the little that’s left of it after a brutal turf war between the Jews and the Italians over a decade ago) reaches out to him when he’s 31, after the murder of his uncle by a small Italian gang of upstarts who took old age for infirmity and, in his cousin’s words, “paid dearly” for it. The invitation is for his uncle’s funeral, but he ends up staying in Camden Town afterwards, working for his cousin who has assumed control of the gang after his father’s murder. Alfie very quickly garners a reputation for just vicious brutality against people that cross the gang. 

Alfie considers it strange that his cousin invites him back, considering, well – but no one (including his cousin) actually seems to remember him well enough to remember that he was a girl child once. People remember that he is his father’s child but apparently not what gender he was assigned at birth. People remember him roughhousing with the boys, not that he was reprimanded for doing so because he was not “one of the boys.” It begs the question of how his cousin tracked him down but Alfie supposes there may only be so many Solomons in England. And it’s weird but it’s also incredibly welcome. Gifts and horses and mouths.

Alfie’s assumption of control of the Solomons Gang right out from under his cousin (who was never fit for the job anyway) is an incredibly nebulous affair that followed very closely on the heels of his uncle’s death. Like, before shiva is even over close on the heels of (which is an exaggeration, but it makes him out to be all the more ruthless, really). Legitimately no one but Alfie knows how exactly any of it went down other than it has a body count somewhere between 2 and 15 people. He describes it to this way as a coup de grace. What that means, no one is even kind of willing to ask.

IV.

He’s outed twice: once by a man in his own gang (a few years after he gains control) and once not long after by a competitor who thinks it will cost Alfie everything. It doesn’t go the way either of them wanted.

His boy does it internally, digs up his service record and his discharge papers and starts to spread the “truth” in an effort to undermine Alfie and possibly gain control of the gang himself. He doesn’t live long past the first wave of rumors and it’s fairly quickly forgotten, just a power-hungry man trying to start something he couldn’t finish.

The competitor spreads it among his supplies and allies, many many of whom have negative reactions and cut ties with the Solomons gang. This costs him the most, at least in the short term - suppliers, support, respect, a modicum of safety - but he doesn’t let it intimidate him. And because it never destabilizes him or truly threatens his leadership of the gang (who actually stand by him, not because they’re supportive but because he’s already proven to be incredibly volatile and unpredictable but also fair to and protective of those loyal to him), he gains a lot in the long term.

(By the time Tommy comes into the picture when he’s 39, there’s been so much turnover in the ranks of nearly every gang and blackmarket business that barely anyone knows and the ones that do either don’t care or just don’t feel like its worth acting on.)

The second time someone internally tries to use his being trans against him, his boys doesn’t even flinch because, cis or trans, Alfie terrifies them. He’s 5′9, built like a brick shithouse, like an American Bulldog, probably 16 stone of mostly muscle, deadlifts twice that, and he punches like a freight train hauling cinder blocks and he terrifies them.

There’s not a person in this world that can make Alfie Solomons ashamed of who he is.

Michael –

I.

Polly spends so much of her life scouring the country looking for her stolen daughters, devastated beyond the ability of words to convey - after searching for twelve hard, long, lonely, terrified years - to find one daughter dead (buried in a country she has never been to and will never see, she can’t even visit her baby’s grave) and the other seemingly wiped from the system after her (private) adoption, no record or her past six years old.

She hits roadblock after roadblock, denied access to privileged and private information she has no legal right to access anymore. It’s helpless, desperate work and it almost breaks her because how could her eldest daughter just disappear?

It’s Tommy who eventually gets access to the records, who digs and digs (and bribes and threatens, but Polly probably doesn’t need to know about that part but probably does anyway, she knows her nephews too well to expect anything different, especially Thomas) until he hits pay dirt. The gender recognition certificate, the legal name change barely half a year ago, the parental consent forms for treatment of gender dysphoria.

It’s a week after he finds it all that he shows her, having mulled over how to tell her and finally settles on just laying it all out. He slides her the folder over breakfast and drinks his coffee – black, two sugars, a Shelby staple – while she reads what she initially thinks are some financial documents or some other Family Business™ family business.

He watches her face morph from shock to confusion to hope to awe and around to the same kind of fond exasperation she looks at him and his siblings with, the closest to love-comfort-softness that Polly gets.

And somewhere in that mix of emotions he knows there is a tug of grief (and it stings, it will never stop stinging, that grief, but for once it isn’t aimed at him), grief because she has lost both of her daughters, grief that is outweighed by the joy of having gained a son, just like the joy of gaining a nephew that outweighed the grief of losing a niece all those years ago. 

“Michael,” she says, awe unmistakable. Traces a hand along the papers with as much tenderness as if they were the face of her lost son, soon soon so soon to be found again and brought home to them.

(Michael, she thinks later, of course he’d somehow pick a family name. It’s only right and it’s perfectly right, she wouldn’t have chosen any different.) 

II.

They wait to reach out until after Michael turns 18, until he has been legally emancipated from his adopted parents. And the wait kills Polly but she understands it, given the circumstances. It’s Tommy that reaches out, somewhat awkwardly, a voicemail left on a cellphone. Perfunctory, because how do you explain the weight of a history like their family’s over voicemail, with a rushed callback number just before the cutoff tone.

And Michael, for his part, two years on HRT and attending uni in London and happy as hell and finally free from parents who were tepidly accepting (at least enough to help him medically transition) but suffocating in their palpable discomfort, jumps at the chance to meet Tommy.

It’s validating that his birth family has reached out to him and even more validating that, to have found him at all, they would have had to found out that he was trans. And to have reached out, they would have had to accept that fact or at least grapple with it. To have reached out, they would have had to want to see him and that’s reason enough to want to meet Tommy. That’s even reason enough to forget that his parents haven’t spoken to him since the day he moved out of their home, to forget that they looked relieved when he left.

III.

And two weeks later they’re sitting across from each other at a coffee shop in north London, a hipster hole in the wall place with good pastries - Michael’s suggestion. They both order coffee – black, two sugars. Michael doesn’t understand why that’s funny to Tommy.

Tommy sits across from him, eyes a shade of blue so startling it’s both hard to maintain eye contact and to look away at all, and offers Michael a a chance to rejoin the family he barely remembers he lost and it almost breaks Michael in half, because he didn’t expect any of this to be so easy. Except it’s not easy, of course it’s not, there’s a weight between then the heft of many people, fathers and brothers and sisters and daughters, but Tommy carries that weight somehow better, with a straight-backed pride Michael finds he would like to learn. To carry the weight of his past like a talisman and not an albatross.

“What does my mum think,” Michael asks just before they say goodbye, standing there on the sunniest day London has seen in months, on the corner outside Warren Street station. He’s put off actually asking this question, unwilling to hear the answer. Unwilling to have another parent see him as a disappointment. “Of me? Of… me.”

Tommy doesn’t speak for a long time, pulling drags and exhaling slowly. When he does speak, he doesn’t look at Michael and Michael can’t help the way his stomach drops to his feet in bitter, sickening anticipation of some kind of rebuff, some kind of confirmation that this will be hard. Instead, Tommy smiles, just slightly, the corner of his mouth blink-and-you’ll-miss-it twitching, and says “You’re her son. She loves you.”

Like it’s just that easy. And for the Shelbys, it kind of is. Family is family, all baggage included. (Ride or die, bitch.)

And Michael isn’t really given to strong emotions (another Shelby staple) but he carries that answer with him for days after, holds it in his body like a physical thing, right next to his heart tucked protectively behind his ribcage. Her son, her son, her son.

(He finds out later that Tommy himself is trans but that is not for some time - it’s definitely one of the last pieces of the puzzle for him, that last missing piece of sky that completes a nearly two decades long year search for who he is and where he belongs. But it’s not for a while yet.)

IV.

He meets his birth mother on a stormy day two weeks after he first meets Tommy. He stands on a curb in Small Heath with an address on a scrap of paper, hastily scribbled while on a confirmation call with Tommy (who does not and will not text, the neanderthal) when he arrived in Birmingham.

She’s not at all what he expected (smaller, thinner, stress-worn. but he has her nose he thinks, and her chin, the curls in her hair) but he supposes he isn’t what she suspected either so they’re at least on equal footing.

Her home smells of incense and perfume, the tea she brews is stout-dark but bright-sweet, her hands are soft and warm on his back when she hugs him and with tears threatening to choke him, his forehead on her shoulder, he thinks oh, I remember this.too

[whentommymetalfie]

Got tight on absinthe last night- did knife tricks (repost from ao3)

REPOST, originally posted on AO3 in January. 

A/N: I’m putting together a master-list of all my stories! And since this has never been posted here, I needed to get that sorted to be able to include it. Have a re-read of this fluffy, stupid little if you’d like! :) 

Summary: The only thing more disastrous than Tommy Shelby, is an incredibly drunk Tommy Shelby. Alfie will make the rules from here on: 1. Never drink absinthe. 2. Never drink with Esme. 3. Horse-hats are not a thing. 

In which Esme is a terrible influence, John is proud, Tommy can't hold his liquor and Alfie is a Very Good Boyfriend™

Pairing: Alfie/Tommy

Wordcount: 2300 

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13247862

Alfie arrives in Birmingham a bit later than he anticipated, thanks to some very unwelcomed complications at the brewery. A bit later meaning: in the middle of the fucking night. But at least he can look forward to collapsing next to Tommy in bed in just a few minutes, pull him close, bury his nose in his hair. Get a drowsy, ‘fuck off, I’m trying to sleep here’ in response. Ignore it. Fall asleep with Tommy’s heartbeat right next to his.

This plan, however, is very soon to be ruined.

The moment he steps through the door to the Shelby’s house, he is met by Ada, who passes him on her way upstairs. She walks up to him slaps his shoulder.

”Good to see you Solomons.” The alcohol in her breath alone could probably ignite a fucking blow torch. “If you want to have Tommy back in one piece tonight, I suggest you go down to the Garrison.” Yeah. Of course. One week in London and Tommy has already managed to stir up some sort of trouble. Ridiculous idea, being in separate places just for efficiency. Now he remembers why they're barely doing that anymore, even for a few days at a time.

”Bloody hell, can't even leave him alone for a few fucking days.” He rubs a hand over his face. "That boy's antics will be the death of me. What has he gotten himself into now? Please don't fucking tell me Kimber is involved somehow? Don't have the energy to shoot people tonight."

“Oh, nothing like that. Just a good ol’ fashion drink-off that Esme somehow roped him into." Ada waves her hand sloppily. "Which he is going to lose, ‘cause I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he really can’t hold his liquor. Under that coat he weighs like a hundred pounds. And maybe it’s got something to do with being hit in the head a few too many times.”

If that ain’t the fucking truth, Alfie thinks. Ada keeps talking. Slurring, more like it.

”Esme brought absinthe. Pretty sure it’s like… 70 percent. It’s very unexpected, but she can drink anyone under the table. I left before things got ugly.”

Alfie pulls his coat back on, grabs his cane and hat, and is just about to walk out the door when he sees John pass by at the top of the stairs. Apparently, the whole bloody household is up.

“Johnny-boy, we’ve got to go and save our significant others from themselves. You coming?”

John backs up. “Wait, Esme isn’t home? I thought she’d gone to bed?” Alfie shakes his head. God, this fucking family…

....

“Oh good, you’re here,” Grace says the moment they walk through the door. The Garrison is empty. She tosses a key to John.

“You’re lucky your family pretty much owns this bar. Otherwise, you lot would’ve been banned long ago. You can lock up, I’m going home.” And with that, she’s out the door.

They find Esme and Tommy in the back room. Or, at first, they just find Esme, because Tommy is currently lying under one of the benches in the booth. Esme is cradling a half empty bottle of a bright green liquid in her hand and holding a monologue that Alfie can’t understand a word of. Tommy answers her in the same language, and Esme laughs.

“John, Alfie! Look Tommy, our men are here!” she exclaims when she sees them, words just barely coherent, and then breaks into another fit of laughter.

Tommy waves a hand from under the bench. “Hi men.” Then he looks up, cocks his head slightly as he tries to focus his gaze on something.

“Alfie! It’s you!”

John and Alfie look at each other, and share a rare moment of understanding.

“Yeah, well, unless you’ve got other men in your life…” Alfie walks up to the booth, crouches down and looks at his drunk partner. His beautiful, crazy, train-wreck of a partner. "That may pose a problem. Afraid I'm not too fond of sharing."

“No, you know you’re the only man for me,” Tommy croons and reaches out a hand, sort of patting Alfie on the wrist in an attempted show of affection.

John grabs the bottle from Esme, who makes a disapproving face, and reads the label. “Absinthe. 89 percent.” He gives his wife a stern look. “Where do you get stuff like this from?”

“Oh, I’ve got connections,” Esme says and wriggles her eyebrows.

“How are you still upright?”

Esme huffs. “Please. Tommy is such a lightweight.”

Tommy makes a noise that could mean anything.

John sighs, but there is also this sort of proud look on his face. “Well I hope you enjoyed yourself. You won. And now we’re going home.”

Alfie is fighting a losing battle to keep Tommy's attention.

“Hear that, love? How about we do the same? Feels like you’ve had enough for one night. Or, several fucking nights actually. ” He tugs lightly at Tommy’s hand in an attempt to make him come out from his spot under the bench. He’d rather not crawl in under the table to get him. “Let’s get you home and into bed.”

“You can take me to bed anytime, handsome,” Tommy smirks.

“Well, yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do here. Though considering the quality of that, maybe the floor is a fucking upgrade.”

John and Esme are already by the door.

“Hey, we’re going now. Lock up, will you?” John drops the key onto a table, before leading his giggling wife out the door.

Alfie just waves his hand dismissively, keeping his eyes on Tommy. Been a long time since he saw him quite this drunk. Alfie feels that maybe he should be angry with him, since dragging a so-drunk-he’s-barely-conscious Tommy home really wasn’t his plan for the night. But he can’t help himself: seeing the always so guarded Tommy Shelby like this, is pretty fucking endearing.

“Now, love, not that I mind sitting here on the floor with you, but I’d much rather be in a bed, no matter how shitty. What do you say, eh?”

After considering it for a moment, Tommy apparently deems this an acceptable option.

He crawls out from under the bench, and with rather a lot of support from Alfie, manages to get to his feet. He sways and Alfie wraps an arm around his waist.

They make it out of the pub, and Alfie locks the door. The streets have mostly cleared out at this hour, with exception for a few poor sods who’ve simply collapsed in the gutter.

After about two minutes of trying to support Tommy’s increasingly dead weight against his side, as well as keeping him from tripping over his own feet, Alfie gives up.

He stops in his tracks and states out loud: “Fuck it. This ain't working out.”

Without waiting for some sort of response, Alfie wraps one arm around Tommy’s shoulders, hooking the other under his knees, and lifts him off the ground. Then he keeps walking. Much to his surprise, Tommy doesn’t protest, just lays his head against his shoulder.

“Thought you hated being carried? You never let me do this, not even in the bedroom. Fucking ridiculous, all these little ideas of yours. I ought to just do it anyway.”

And Tommy Shelby fucking giggles. Alfie sort of curses he’s the only one there to witness it, because like hell anyone will ever believe him.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret,” he whispers, rather loudly.

“I’m all ears, sweetie.”

“I’m actually… really, really drunk.”

Alfie nods. “You don’t say. Thought this was just a particularly good day.”

Tommy falls silent for a while, and Alfie almost thinks he’s fallen asleep when he pipes up.

“This is sort of nice,” he mutters. “I might let you do this some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Alfie says. “Doubt that you’ll remember it tomorrow, though.”

“Sure I will.”

Tommy is rather unresponsive the rest of the short distance home, and Alfie manages to get them both inside by nudging the door handle down with his elbow. He needs to get Tommy to drink something, though, so he goes to the kitchen first and sits him down on the table. By some miracle, Tommy remains in sitting position for the few seconds it takes him to fill a cup with water, but then he has to wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him from falling backwards.

“Oi, Tommy.” he pats his cheek lightly to get his attention, and Tommy’s hazy eyes focus on him. “Drink this.” Alfie puts the cup to his mouth, not trusting him with any type of breakable objects.

Tommy drinks half of it.

“Can I wear your hat?” He then asks, but has already reached up and snatched it. Alfie lowers the cup, decides to indulge him for a moment. Then he realizes something.

“Where is your cap?”

Tommy furrows his brow, looks up at him from under the wide brim of his hat. “I don’t know. Maybe Esme took it.” Silence. “Or maybe I gave it to someone?”

“That was probably a shit idea.”

“Once, I dreamt that I gave my cap to a horse.” Tommy slurs, looking thoughtful. Then his eyes light up and he grasps Alfie’s shoulder. “Maybe that could be our new business!”

Alfie blinks. “What?”

“Making hats. For horses. You know, fuck the bookmaking, and fixing races and all that. Let’s just make horse-hats. It will be amazing.”

Alfie puts the cup to his mouth and tips it slightly; luckily Tommy drinks obediently.

“Sure, sweetie. First thing tomorrow, I’m shutting down the bakery and telling the boys to start making-“

“Horse-hats.”

“Yeah. Fucking horse-hats.” Alfie puts the cup in the sink, forgetting for a moment about Tommy’s predicament, and just barely manages to catch him around the waist before he falls backwards onto the table. They don’t need anything that’s going to make the expectedly hellish headache tomorrow worse.

Tommy wraps both arms around his shoulders and gives him one of those smiles that usually means trouble.

“You know what I’m thinking about?”

“Horse hats?”

Tommy furrows his brow, as if he’s never heard of such a thing before. Then the smile returns. He gives Alfie one of those sultry, half-lidded looks that always manages to drive him absolutely mad.

“I’m thinking about-“ his hands travel down over Alfie’s back, “The last time I was on this table-“ he spreads his thighs and pulls Alfie closer to him. “With you between my legs.” He kisses him, and Alfie indulges himself for just a moment and kisses him back. “We should do it again.” Tommy moans against his lips. “Now.”

The memory of that time already has all the blood rushing to his cock, so it takes absolutely all of Alfie’s willpower to break the kiss and take a step back. Tommy pouts. Fucking pouts. Then again, he always looks like he does. With those lips.

“Sorry sweetheart, not when you’re this drunk. You’re not right in the head,” Alfie says. “We’re going to bed. And we’re going to sleep, yeah? Can you walk?” Tommy gets off the table, clings to his side, but manages to stay on his feet.

“Since when did you become such an honourable man?” he mutters as Alfie leads him up the stairs.

“Only with you, love.”

“Wish you wouldn’t be.”

“Oh, I promise to be a lot less honourable tomorrow night, several times. If you can take it, with the hangover you’ll have.”

Tommy seems to be satisfied with this promise.

A few minutes later, they’re finally, finally in bed. Tommy apparently has forgotten all about what he wanted down in the kitchen, because he just curls up against him, laying his head against his chest, and closes his eyes. Alfie sighs, puts an arm around him.

There is silence, and Alife is certain Tommy has fallen asleep when he suddenly speaks again, quietly this time. Drowsily.

“Alfie, I’ve never told anyone this-“

Alfie hums, thinking this will either be another ‘I’m drunk’ confession, or a pitch for the horse-hats again.

“So it’s a secret and you can’t tell anyone.”

“’Course not, love.” He keeps his answers uncharacteristically short. Because he's fucking exhausted, and he's pretty sure Tommy can't keep up with any long speeches.

Tommy pauses, and then says in a grave tone, “I’m actually really scared of the sea.”

Alfie chuckles quietly. “Is that so? How come.”

“You don’t know what’s in it. Could be these… large… fish… things.”

Large fish things. Quite the thing to hear from the usually so eloquent Tommy.

“Have you ever actually been to the sea?” he asks.

“Not really,” Tommy admits.

“Then how do you know you don’t like it?”

“I don’t like the thought of it.”

“I’ll take you there sometime. Show you that it’s nice. I promise to protect you from any potential ‘large fish-things’.”

“If you ever try to take me to the sea, I will divorce you.”

“We’re not married, love.”

Tommy straightens up a little. Rests his forearms on Alfie’s chest and looks down at him through those impossibly long eyelashes. Cocks his head and gives him this little, infatuated smile.

“Yeah, we are.”

Alfie chuckles, reaches out a hand and cups his face, running a thumb over his cheekbone. To hell with it, let him have this. “Sure, love. Sure, we are.” Then he pulls Tommy down and kisses him, just chastely, before tucking him against his side. Tommy buries his face in the crook of his neck.

“Missed you when you were away,” he mumbles, just barely awake now. Alfie smiles at the confession. He knows Tommy misses him when he’s in London, but the man would never actually admit it sober. It’s not in his nature. But Alfie knows these things. Knows that Tommy misses him. Knows that he likes sleeping with Alfie’s arms wrapped around him. Knows that he likes to be kissed on the forehead, even though he calls Alfie a fucking sap when he does. Maybe that’s what makes this whole thing work. That he knows.

“I missed you too,” he says. And Tommy smiles against his neck.