#camden town boy

[letterboxd-loggd]

The Tall Guy (1989) Mel Smith

December 17th 2023

[marian-1122]

Paul Simonon , Chalk Farm Road , Camden Town , London , 1980 .

©️ Clare Muller/PYMCA/Avalon/Getty Images

[darklydeliciousdesires]

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

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

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

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

“Next lad!”  

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

“Next lad!” 

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

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

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

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

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

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

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Hi Mo! I hope you are doing well! I really love your writing and the way you capture the duality of Alfie's character. I saw that you were looking for ideas so I thought I'd send one in (please feel no obligation/pressure to write it, this is just spit balling). Maybe something with reader being protective over Alfie. Maybe they're unaware of the infamous title the Camden King holds or they are but they have an overwhelming sense to have to protect him when the two are placed into a dangerous situation. Thanks so much, and again no pressure to have to write this ♥️!

Hi my friend!! You are so sweet, I hope you’re doing well too!! Thank you so much for this prompt! I gotta be honest, for some reason I had a hard time trying to figure out how I wanted to write this! I hope you enjoy it though, and if it isn’t hitting the way you were hoping, message me and maybe we can come up with something together!! Sending my love!!! - Mo

Change of Plans

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

Warnings: fighting, blood, stitches

This was NOT how the night was supposed to go.

Alfie was going to have a late night at the office, finishing up some business with the Shelby boys. Fine enough, you could make his home coming sweet. A fresh chocolate babka would be fresh out the oven, ready for him to cut into and devour. Candles would be lit all over the house, with curtains drawn in to protect from peering eyes and the creeping in cold. And you. You were dressed so pretty, just waiting for him. Hair loose and free, just how he loves it. You had put on that soft pink dressing gown he likes so much. The silk one with the delicate lace at the ends. You even put lavender oil on, extra, just to entice him.

It was SUPPOSED to be a nice surprise. It was SUPPOSED to be an evening where you spoiled him. It was SUPPOSED to be a romantic evening.

But no… here you are. Sitting next to Ollie in the car. Being driven across town to a bar. A bar, where your husband, along with the idiots Tommy, Arthur, and John Shelby, were fighting. Being that Ollie was concerned enough to grab you from home, you could only imagine how bloody it was.

Ollie looked over at you, eyeing the hem of your dressing gown, nervous as to how the pink fabric would be received, “Uhm.. Ma’am, I have a coat in the back… don’t you think maybe-“

“No Ollie I don’t think I want it. If Alfie wants to pull me out of my house this late at night, he can deal with the consequences.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea-“

“Ollie you know I love you so very much but I will need you to not speak again until we get to the bar. Yes?”

Ollie nodded, but the stress never left his eyes. You know he meant well. He was only ever looking out for you and Alfie. He was very very sweet. But frankly, Alfie did not deserve to have Ollie looking out for him. He did not deserve common courtesy tonight.

You slam open the doors, and it was exactly as you assumed it was. Regular patrons of the bar were lined up at the edge of the walls, watching the gladiators in the center tear each other apart. There was blood all over the floor. Broken glasses and spilled liquor scattering the floor mixing with the red. Tables and chairs discarded and destroyed in the wake of the brawl. You assumed, that the fight started as Alfie against the brothers. But it looked from your stance now, that it was every man for himself. All four of the men were sporting black eyes, bruises and cuts all over their faces, necks, and hands. You heard Alfie’s laugh above the sounds, “C’mon now!!! You want some more?!”

He didn’t see you yet, but you could see him. He looked like absolute shit, and his mouth was bleeding despite the toothy grin he gave with every punch he gave and received. You rolled your eyes, and felt your rage rise. He was getting far too old for this shit, reveling in his strength and the destruction he could so easily cause. The honor he wanted to protect with the force of 50 men. In normal circumstances you find it honorable. Sometimes even charming. But the way it was going… someone was going to get killed. And if anyone was going to kill Alfie it was going to be you.

You motioned for Ollie to follow you, as you stomped over the bottles, blood, and water. The yells for more blood by the men at the edges slowly turned to whistles as they gave witness to your bare legs, the thin dressing gown, and your steaming rage barreling through. With strength mustered from God himself, you grabbed the collar of John and yanked him back quickly, tossing him onto his back, “What the! Oh, Mrs. Solomons…”

Ollie managed to rip Arthur off of Alfie’s back, and he too looked incredulous at your appearance at this disgusting scene. All that was left was Alfie and Tommy, still attempting to rip each others throat out, entirely oblivious to your presence.

“ENOUGH. STOP IT.”

You screamed, but to no avail. They were entirely focused on one another, on their mutual blood lust. Seeing no other option, you motioned for Ollie’s gun, snatching it from his hand, and shot three rounds into the ceiling.

They finally stopped, looking up to find you as the source of the noise. Where they initially looked like big men, they suddenly reminded you of naughty children.

“Alfred Solomons. Thomas Shelby. Just what in gods name do you think you’re doing.”

Silence. Utter silence. “WELL?! I’m waiting Mr. Solomons!”

Tommy tried to get up, but paused when you pointed the gun at him, “Do not make another move Mr. Shelby. Not only did you ruin a night with my husband, but you also nearly killed him. I have half a mind to shoot you dead right now.”

Not moving from your initial target, you address Alfie, “Have you finally found yourself speechless? Say something.”

With a swollen eye and bloody lip, he manages to smile sheepishly, “Just… just business love. Just… a bit of a quarrel darling nothing more… put the gun down my love, you look beautiful. A right vision darling. ”

“I will decide when I put the gun down Mr. Solomons.”

You begin pointing the gun at each of the four men, “I think we can all agree… that we are ALL a little too old to behaving this way yes?”

Tommy was watching you intently, as was Alfie. John and Arthur hung their heads. Embarrassed for both their behavior and their deep seeded fear of you. You motioned for Alfie to get up, “My husband and I are going to leave now. Mr. Shelby, I expect a handwritten note apologizing for ruining my evening. And Monday you all will convene together, to discuss the issue like fucking adults!”

Alfie winced as he got up, cane nowhere to be found. You walked back out into the cold, with Alfie close to your heels. You push him into the car before you, and slam the door shut, telling Ollie to take you home.

You can’t even look at Alfie. So overcome with irritation and worry. Irritated that he acted so recklessly, and worried about his injuries. As you always are. Alfie fiddled with the coat on the seat, “Coat is back here and you still decided to come out in your dressing gown eh?”

“Be quiet I do not want to hear you.”

“Oh you will hear me though won’t you yeah? You will hear me, because now, all of fucking London saw my wife’s bare legs! I mean what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?! You want to know what’s wrong with me Alfie Solomons? I wait all day for my husband to come home. No no not just wait. I SLAVE around the house all day, make myself look nice, hoping HOPING that my husband makes it home! I worry sick ALL DAY that maybe this will be the day my husband doesn’t come home. And instead of coming home, he goes and acts like a COMPLETE FUCKING MORON and starts a fist fight with the Shelby boys!! You are getting too old for this kind of reckless behavior Alfie! And I cannot let you keep destroying your body like this!”

You begin to feel the hot tears fall down your cheeks, and Alfie’s heart starts to crack, “Aw.. darling I- treacle don’t go worrying about old Alfie now. Your husband is like an ox yeah?”

Your tears keep flowing, harder now, “No Alfie! No i do worry! It’s not about you being strong!! It’s about you being healthy! About you being safe! I’ve never told you to stop the business! I’ve never asked you to leave it! All I’ve ever asked is that you show wisdom! Not to go around picking fights! I can’t see you like this Alfie! You don’t deserve to get cut up and beaten for nothing! For a pissing contest! I shouldn’t have to see my husband like this just because of some… some pride!”

Alfie just placed his bloodied hand on your knee, patting and stroking your thigh trying to comfort you. Once Ollie got you and Alfie home, you silently walked up, freezing and covered in the smell of booze and violence. “Get to the bathroom Alfie. I’ll be there in a minute to clean you up.”

You changed out of your soft pink nightie, and slipped on of Alfie’s night shirts over your body, breathing in the smell of his left over cologne. With a sigh you lugged the medicine kit into the bathroom, where Alfie sat at the edge of the tub, shirt off, hot water running and steaming the room. Silently, you began cleaning the wounds on his hands and chest. Once the tub was sufficiently filled, you nodded for him to get in.

With a grunt he lowers himself in. It was getting harder to get into the tub. His muscles tighter than they used to be. You begin your work, stitching up the deeper cuts on his chest and face. It was like nothing to you now.

The first time you stitched him up, he had to talk you through it, giving you more comfort than you could him. It was a rough first try, the scar is still pure white between his shoulder blades, and you can feel it under your fingers at night. But now, you know your way around the needle and his skin, it’s a familiar ritual to you now, though you wish it wasn’t.

“You look as beautiful as you did on our wedding day.” Alfie says suddenly, eyes glossy, and forehead sweaty.

You shake your head at him. Of course he’s trying to flirt with you while you’re stitching him up, “You’ve lost a lot of blood. You’re delirious.”

“Nah. I married an angel darling. You make those shirts look like them French magazines.”

You couldn’t help but smile. Damn him, he knows how to sweeten you up. You finally finish up the stitches, 10 different gashes in total, and you begin putting on the salve and bandages when he finally speaks again, “My sweet heart, you should not have gone down there. It would’ve been ok. You don’t need to be involved in all that.”

God he’s irritating. Throwing your hands in your lap you bite back, “Alfie don’t give me that. One of us has to have some sense! One of us has to care about you.”

“You are making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Or are you forgetting what it is that I do! I ain’t a soft man treacle.”

“Do not even try to spin it Alfred Solomons. I will not be made to be looked at like a hysterical and stupid house wife. You will not make me feel crazy Alfred Solomons. I am your wife and you will listen to me.”

A beat of silence. And two blinks from Alfie are your queue to keep speaking, “Never. Never have I ever told you to stop. I told you that I would always support you. That your people are my people. You want to continue the business. Absolutely. You want to drop it all and go to Margate. Beautiful. I will always be here for the aftermath. I will always be there to discuss. I will always be there to stitch you up. But this Alfie… this type of… reckless nonsense… you got slashed in the chest Alfie! I will not be made a widow Alfred Solomons. Especially in the wake of something which was preventable. I refuse to watch my husband kill himself for a fucking pissing contest.”

He stared at the water in the tub, losing its steam and washing away the grime from his day. In this moment he wasn’t the King of Camden. That mask left the moment he walked through the threshold. Right now he was Alfie Solomons. Your husband. The man who was to love and protect you.

“Alfie… don’t you see how much I love you? How much I want you to be safe? I hate seeing you in pain, it makes me sick. I don’t know what I would do if you were suddenly not here. I think… the sky would turn black. I would not be able to breathe.”

Alfie hummed, and began to rise out of the tub, “C’mon… let’s get to bed yeah?”

With a sigh you nodded, helping him out, and cleaning up your tools before leaving him to dress for bed. Already bundled in between the soft white sheets, you look above your book to watch him limp into bed, and your heart breaks. He grunts as he gets in, but then pulls at your shirt to bring you closer, “C’mere darling. Need you.”

You toss your book to the floor, huddling closer, letting him guide your head to his bare chest. He hums put a tune from his childhood, stroking your hair as he thinks. After a bit he whispers, “Do you know what would happen if you weren’t next to me anymore?”

“Hmm?”

“The world would stop spinning. Lose all its color. Food ‘d lose its taste. Music would be horrible. I’d stop breathing. There’d be no reason to breathe. No reason at all.”

You begin to feel tears fall again, but he kept continuing, “I love you my darling. You add meaning to all this… I’m sorry I made you feel… as if you didn’t matter. As if your feelings didn’t matter. They do treacle. Your husband is stubborn, and it ain’t right. Ain’t right to make my wife cry and worry. You’re the best a man like me could ever ask for. You put up with so much… I promise not to be such an ass yeah? Start using my head before I start up some nonsense. Deal?”

You nod, clutching his chest, kissing him wherever you could reach, as Alfie hums again, kissing the top of your head. “Now Treacle. Tell me all about these plans you had for tonight.”

[poetskings]

@jegulus-microfic | May 3: rush | 1.8k

James is in a rush to get to work, until he meets someone that makes London public transport less awful.

James is running late.

It had been a morning of little catastrophes; James slept through his alarm, his clothes were still damp from where he’d done laundry a little bit too late the day before, and Remus had drunk the last of the coffee so naturally James had to call in at the local coffee shop rather than getting it at home.

All of this to say he’s spectacularly late.

He’s got a meeting at eleven and unless some minor miracles occur and public transport actually functions for a change, he’s going to be fifteen minutes late.

He fires an email off to Lily all but begging her to cover until he gets there (she says yes, because she’s an actual literal angel and James would drop dead if he had to function a day without her) and power walks to Camden Town station, because even as late as he is, full on running is a bit too undignified.

The one small mercy of him running hideously late is that the tube station is pretty quiet – there’s only a handful of people waiting on the platform. James puts his headphones on and takes out his book, zoning out as he waits for the train to arrive.

It doesn’t take long; the Northern line is generally reliable outside of rush hour, so James finds his way into a carriage and sits down, preparing to read for the rest of his commute.

That is, until he glances around the carriage and his vision catches on the person sat opposite him.

He’s quite possibly the most attractive person James has ever laid eyes on; all dark hair and thunderstorm eyes and oh, his hands. They’re delicate and decorated in rings and gripping onto a pencil as he sketches.

James has always been a hopeless romantic; ask any one of his friends and they’ll tell you that he falls fast and hard. He’s attracted to shiny things; to pretty things, and this boy sat across from him is all of that and more.

It takes everything in him to not go and sit next to the stranger, but even he can acknowledge that it’d be a bit weird. So he completely forgets that he should be paying attention to his book and instead opts for glancing up at him every minute or so after making some vague and half-hearted attempt at reading his page for the fifth time in as many minutes.

And then James’ world shifts on its axis.

He glances at the pretty stranger to find him already looking. James offers a small smile, aborting an attempt at a wave when he’s already halfway through the motion.

The stranger laughs and it’s possibly the most gorgeous sound James has ever heard in his life. He wants to hear that sound forever. He watches as this divine creature raises his hand before mimicking his aborted move, and James is gone.

He wants to sit on this train forever and make eye contact with this angel who’s decided to grace the Northern line at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday.

The stranger breaks eye contact first, going back to whatever he’s sketching, and James wants to see those storm cloud eyes again but is equally enthralled by the graceful movements of his hand as it drags a pencil over paper.

James has always liked hands, sue him.

A few more minutes pass before James summons the courage to say something. He doesn’t know how much longer the stranger is going to be on the tube, and for all that today has been absolutely awful, he thinks, if he believed in a god, that he would believe that this was divine intervention.

He takes his headphones off, ready to give the stranger his full attention, only to realise that he’s humming under his breath. It’s liquor-smooth and James wants to drink it in forever. He doesn’t recognise the song but he doesn’t want it to end. It’s his new favourite song, he thinks.

He clears his throat and the stranger stops humming, blinking up at him. James offers a small grin again, walking over familiar ground with him. This is what strangers on the tube do; this is normal. Then he veers off course.

“What’re you humming?” he asks. The angel across the carriage raises an eyebrow, shutting his sketchbook before standing up. He steps closer, closer, and James thinks he’s stopped breathing.

He pointedly looks at James’ bag, which is on the seat next to him, and James is suddenly all limbs and no grace as he moves it as quickly as possible, drawing that laugh out once again. James wants to wake up to that sound; it’s a shot of espresso to his soul.

He offers James an earphone, and James is helpless. He takes it as the angel speaks to him for the first time.

“It’s Dreams by Hana Vu. She released an album today and I’ve fallen in love.” He tilts his head back as the song washes over him and James is only half listening, instead focused on the long line of his neck. James has fallen in love too, he thinks, but with a man, and not with a song.

James lets the song play as he continues to stare. It’s only when the stranger turns to look at him that he realises that the track has come to an end and he’s expected to say something.

“My name’s James,” he offers, and he’s sure it’s not what the stranger wanted, but it’s all he has. He is hollowed out of everything and anything that isn’t the man on the train with him.

The man raises an eyebrow but nonetheless offers his own in return. Regulus.

After that it’s like the floodgates open. This stranger has offered James his headphone and his name and James would be a fool to not make the most of this opportunity.

He’s only half paying attention to the stops as they fly past, the eleven o’clock meeting barely even registering as a thought. He hears the call for Tottenham Court Road but Regulus is talking about his course at UCL, about how he wants to be an artist but he’s promised his parents he’ll at least try to stick out the law degree before blowing his future chance at earning money to smithereens.

James quickly glances down, firing off another email to Lily and apologising profusely but something important has come up that he simply cannot miss.

He talks about how he never really knew what he wanted to do until Lily mentioned journalism. The two have set up a small independent media organisation that he loves and can’t wait to build up. Regulus looks genuinely interested, and James has waited for what feels like forever for someone to look at him like that.

James loves his friends, he does, but when he was younger he established himself as a class clown, and his wants very rarely get taken seriously. It’s nice to have someone take him seriously, to care about his hopes and dreams and to ask intelligent questions about his plans for Sectastra Media. He knows that Lily is the real brains of the business, but he’s not completely ignorant, and Regulus seems to get that.

Tottenham Court is a distant thought, and he knows it runs contradictory to the passion he’s had for it when talking to Regulus, but this man sat beside him is magical and James doesn’t want to miss this.

Their conversation winds through countless topics and James cannot remember the last time it felt this easy for him to exist in his own skin. It’s only when he starts to get a slew of messages that he realises that they’ve been on the tube for nearly forty minutes. He glances apologetically at Regulus and calls Lily back, fully prepared for a thorough bollocking, which even he can admit he deserves.

He glances at the boy next to him and prepares himself to admit that he should’ve gotten off the tube three stops ago when he sees Regulus frantically firing off a text about how he’s not going to make the contracts lecture and can someone please send him the notes.

James doesn’t even try to hide his smile as he nudges Regulus. “Running late too, huh?”

Regulus startles slightly, a rosy flush creeping up his neck, and it’s the most gorgeous thing James has ever seen.

“I was meant to get off at Warren Street.”

James stops breathing. He stops existing. His entire world has narrowed down to the contours of Regulus’ body.

Warren Street was two stops before Tottenham Court.

The words are out before James has fully processed them.

“Go on a date with me?”

Regulus looks startled, like he can’t quite believe this is real. Silence starts to stretch.

“I was meant to get off at Tottenham Court. Go on a date with me?”

Regulus starts breathing again and James’ world starts turning again.

“Alright,” he says, and it is soft and tentative and oh so fragile and James wants to frame this moment.

The pair get off the tube, waiting for a new train to take them in the opposite direction. Something has shifted between them, and James lets his fingers brush against the back of Regulus’ hand, feeling the cool bite of his rings.

Regulus doesn’t move away.

The second train comes and they don’t even consider sitting anywhere other than next to each other. James and Regulus has become JamesAndRegulus, and the conversation flows and something rare and precious has been created.

Tottenham Court approaches, and Regulus breaks conversation, turning so that James can no longer see his sketchbook as he writes frantically across the page.

He tears out the page, offering it to James. It’s a sketch of him; rough around the edges but James knows what it means. In the top right hand corner, a number is written in delicate cursive.

James looks away from the drawing, finding Regulus biting his lip, that beautiful rose blush drawn across his cheeks.

James is helpless; so far gone and without any desire to find his way back to the person he was before he stepped on the train this morning.

“Thank you,” he says, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He pulls his phone out, immediately plugging Regulus’ number in and sending a text to the angel on the tube.

Regulus nods and says, “you’re welcome.”

The tube doors open on Tottenham Court and James makes his way to his office, feeling lighter than he has in months.

Lily will rightfully be fuming, and James knows that it’s nearly midday, but he thinks that perhaps he wasn’t late after all.

He was right where he needed to be, right on time.

[writers-hes]

The Blind Man

You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn’t realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps, depictions of mental illness, abusive marriage)

They finally meet.

PART 1 / PART 2

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BIRMINGHAM, 1919

There was nothing discreet with how you dressed. You were in all black, a black veil shielding you from the onlookers. Simon sent some money to Johnny’s wife, Beth, for a proper wake. His house was filled with white flowers and proper food. It’s the least he could do, that’s what he said. You were sitting beside the widow, trying to console her.

“Johnny used to talk about you alot,” she weeped. “‘That’s my girl! That’s my daughter and she’ll go places!’ That’s what he always said. He told me how you grew up in the brothel and how you were always willing to listen to his lessons in arithmetic.” Her eyes were red from crying and all you could do was console her. “Thank you for taking care of him…for taking care of us,”

“It’s nothing, Beth,” you assured her. “He let me into his bunker when my mum died,” you recalled. “He protected me from…from…as much as he could, you know?”

God. Just how many people could you lose in this fucking lifetime? First, your father but you’ve never really weeped for him. You never knew him. Second, your mum. She took care of you with how little she had. Third, Tommy. You never heard back if he was alive or not. Your protector. Fourth, Big Johnny. He’s always been the male figure that you considered as your father. Who’s next?

“I’m grateful for him,” you managed to choke out. You asked your security guards to go somewhere else, maybe a few feet or metres from the house. You wanted privacy. “I’m just so regretful to never have seen him and now he’s gone…”

Johnny died because of a rumble with some of the newer gangs in Small Heath. Some young lads mugged him on the way home and killed him. They threw his body by the docks where they thought no one would ever see him.

Your body suddenly fills with rage. Was this the work of the Blinders? Fuck. Why would they fucking do that? Beth excuses herself from you and you nodded. Picking on the rings on your fingers, you didn’t notice who sat beside you. 

“Seems like we only see each other at weddings and funerals,” You gasped, looking at the source of the familiar voice. How could you ever forget? She told you what you needed to do to survive. 

“Polly,” you gasped, extending your shaky hands towards her. “How have you been?”

“I’m good,” she replied. “Who would’ve thought, huh?” she asked. She lets you clutch her hand for support. “Where’s Simon?”

“He has business in Camden Town,” you replied. “He allowed me to go but there’s security around us right now. We can’t really talk, Poll—he’s going to, he’s going to—“

“I’ve handled it,” she said. “You can talk to me as freely as you would like, okay?” You nodded. 

“I’m sorry for…for leaving,” you whispered. Your voice wavers and you feel the wetness in your eyes. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Darling…”

“He threatened to kill Tommy, Arthur, and John if I didn’t obey,” you confessed. “During the…the war,” You shut your eyes to hide from Polly. Her heart aches. You’ve always been reluctant to show your emotions but you are visibly hiding now. Cowering from the fear of rejection and of humiliation from Polly Gray. “He said that-that he knew people who could finish the job.”

“Don’t hide,” she coos. Your obedience was not in vain but she’d never tell you that. She didn’t want Tommy to act impulsively and she didn’t want you to lose what you already have. “How are you? You don’t need permission from a man, you know,”

“I know,” you nod. “You always told me but…Simon is all I have now. He trusts me and I don’t want to break that trust that I’ve worked so hard on. You told me to take advantage of everything and I am,”

“What have you been doing?”

“I have trusts, bonds, and investments to my name now. Simon couldn’t take them away from me. All sealed with a document that my lawyers reviewed,” you told her. Once a prostitute, always a prostitute.

“Johnny and I taught you well then,” she nods in approval. “That’s good. We miss you,”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Where’s Ada? I’ve to thank her for the house,”

“If anything, she has you to thank. She’s been going there a lot since you left. She said she feels more at peace there,” Polly replied. “When are you leaving?”

“After the burial,” you replied. “I have to leave and go to uh, Italy with Simon,”

“For what?”

“Some…business thing.” you replied. 

“He’s showing you the world?” she asked, gesturing to your clothes. You knew it. It was too much for a funeral.

“Yeah. It’s too much isn’t it? I can-I can change into something else but, he likes these clothes,” you told her. “But can I—“

“No, you look good,” she says, stopping you from your worries. “You look like who you’re supposed to be,”

You look like who you’re supposed to be. If it was any other person, you’d be offended; but this was Polly. She always told you that you didn’t belong in Small Heath. “You’re too pure to belong here forever.” She’d always say. It’s funny, you felt like you never belonged in Simon’s world no matter how hard he tried to put you in it. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to ask about Tommy and his brothers. How could you? You were too scared to know the answer. If Polly didn’t mention it, it’s probably for the best.

“I do wish you’d visit us more but I know your circumstances,” she said. “I received the letter from Simon along with a cheque of a few thousand pounds,”

“Did you encash it?” you asked. 

“No,” she replied. Somehow, that gave you comfort. She couldn’t be bought. “I did it because I was so worried about what could happen to you. It didn’t have any details. It just said that he’d appreciate it if we cease all contact. He hasn’t hurt you, has he?”

“No,” you shook your head. Not yet. “As unimaginable as it all is, he has never. I truly believe that he loves me, Pol. He tells me every day. He heeds everything that I say or do and has never had a mistress but I feel so terrible because I don’t love him that way,” you confessed, feeling like the weight of the world just lifted itself on your shoulders. “I’m terrible,”

“You’re not,” Polly said. “I told you to take advantage of everything but I never told you to love him, did I?”

-

You went home that day feeling lighter. You could always confide in Polly whenever you needed. You were just so heartbroken to know that that could probably never happen again. Your servants have left now. You told them that you didn’t need them during the night because of how small the house was. They stayed at a lodging for labourers nearby; except for the guards. They came with you wherever you go, even if it was only at a distance. 

You were putting away the heavy gold earrings in the vanity in your room. It was dark, except for the lamp that you opened by the bed. 

“You should really change your locks,” Your head whipped, earrings falling on the ground. 

“Tommy?” you asked, rushing towards him in your most comfortable clothes. It was a long sleeved pyjama shirt that Simon owned. Tommy didn’t like it. “Oh my God. You’re here,” you breathed, shaky hands touching his arm. “You’re here…you’re here,”

“And you’re here,” he says, his voice void of emotion. He looked for the pressed flowers in the frame that usually sat on your vanity. It was gone. “You left,”

“I didn’t want to,” you said, removing your hands from him when you felt how cold he was.

“Did you plan on coming back? At all?” he asked. His rage blinds him. Why was he so cold and cruel? Why couldn’t he tell you how happy he was to see you again? He didn’t know how to handle his emotions. Years of longing…of heartbreak…of wondering if he could ever be good enough came down on him. 

“Tommy?”

“It’s just a funny thing, isn’t it?” he chuckled, lighting up his cigarette. “You leave, make your way into the world, and then expect things to be the same.”

You frowned. 

“It’s a funny thing. You promised to wait for me and you didn’t,” he spat. “All I ever looked at was your photo in those four years and you—“

“I didn’t want to leave, Tommy,” you whispered. 

“But you did!” he exclaims. “You left me! You…you left me and married someone else. You decided that I could never grant my promises and fucked someone else. Like a…like…”

“Like what, Tommy?” you asked, stepping away from him. “Like a whore?” He’s never thought of you like that before.

“I never said that,”

“But you thought it!” You sit on your bed. “You see me like how everyone sees me. Fuck,” you shook, shielding yourself away from him. “How could you ruin this for us?”

“No, I’m—“

“Then, what? What is it, Tommy? You come in here to my house and pick a fight. You can’t blame me for the choices that I made! I had no idea if you were coming back. What else was I supposed to do?”

“Wait for me,” he demanded. “I told you to wait for me. I’ve been building us everything that we ever wanted but you were just so impatient,”

“How could I if you never wrote back?”

You looked up at him through teary eyes. You finally gave him the chance to look at you. You looked older, despite the garb that you were wearing. The sparkle was gone. You looked up at him. He’s different. Detached, cold, and emotionless. The blue eyes that used to convey so much emotion were gone. He wasn’t letting you in like he used to. 

You both changed.

A shimmer on your neck catches his attention. It was his mother’s locket. You catch his eyes casting down on it. 

“I forgot,” you croaked, looking away. “I’m supposed to give this to you.” He wasn’t your Tommy anymore.

“No, you should keep it,”

“It’s okay,” you nod, removing the locket from your person and putting it on the bed. It was the first time you’ve ever removed it and it felt like you were removing a leash. “You own it. You should give it to someone else. Someone that’s…that’s not me,”

“Y/N…love,” he tried but you shook his head. “It always belonged to you.”

“We’re not the same people anymore, Tom. You look at me and-and it’s how everyone else does,” you cried. “Like a whore. I’m selling my body and my future for a life like this. Right? I don’t want to have this anymore,” you said. “We grew apart and we’re older now. We’re not the same people,” You don’t love me anymore.

There was hell and there was a place below hell. It was where he was. How could he be so cruel to make you cry? How could he insinuate that you were all the same? How could you hint that he doesn’t love you anymore?

“I waited for you, Tommy. Waited for you to write back and at first, I felt…sad. Then, angry. You think I’m so disposable. So replaceable, right?” you asked. “I sent you letters every week. You always told me you’d protect me but you couldn’t even send me a letter telling me that you were alright. You couldn’t even protect Johnny!”

Maybe if he told you that it was Polly who intercepted those letters, you wouldn’t be so mad at him. Maybe you wouldn’t think that he’d abandon you so easily. Maybe you’d know that you were the only face that got him out of the tunnels. Maybe you’d know that it was your name that made him feel good. Like your name was some prayer he’s worthy enough to say every time that he felt like he was underground again. But how could he hurt you more than he already did?

“You were the one who replaced me,” Maybe you’d finally know that he loves you and that, if you could have just waited a little bit longer, you’d never have to worry if your hair was out of place.

“There was nothing to replace.”

-

Tommy brews in anger. To Polly, to you, and to himself. He couldn’t tell you that Polly intercepted your letters. He didn’t want to cut your relationship with her too. 

“Fuck!” he roared. The barmaid comes in and asks Tommy if he was okay. He shrugs her off but seems intent on staying.

“Do you want me to sing for you?” she asked. He leans back, uninterested. 

“Sure,”

“Happy or sad?” she asked. 

“Uh, sad,” 

“It’ll break your heart,” she says, smiling softly.

“Already broken,” he muttered. Already broken. 

He sits there, unmoving. To be honest, he didn’t know why he was so mad at you. He was truly, utterly, and irrevocably alone now that you were gone. It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being alone. He prefered it sometimes. Maybe it’s because he always expected for the two of you to be alone together. Like you always were. 

The fear of being unknown to you scares him. You’ve always known him—his whole heart and his whole soul. You’ve always known him but now, you’re gone. You’ll never know him the way you knew him. You were too different now and it rips through him like nothing else. You’ll never be there for him like you did. He’ll never know you like he did once. He could never pinpoint it but he hates how he was never enough for you. If only he could provide, if he could only protect, if only…

Here he thought he’d finally have a wink of sleep after four years. 

-

You were on the phone with your husband after Tommy stormed out in anger last night. You needed to be comforted, to be told that you were right and that everyone else was wrong. It was one of the few luxuries you allowed yourself when you were with Tommy but you were positive that you’ve lost him now.

“Are you alright?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “I can always come down there, you know,”

“I know,” you nodded. “I just miss you,” 

“You do?” You could tell that that inflated his ego. “If it’s any consolation, I missed you too,”

“Do you think…do you think you can be here for the funeral?” you asked before you could even stop yourself. Why were you bringing him here when Tommy was around? Were you bringing him here out of spite? To make Tommy what? Jealous? But then again, was it a sin to ask for comfort from your husband? Tommy would never understand. He was quick to tell you what he thought of you yesterday. It was the first time he did it but you couldn’t get it out of your head. If to him, you were a whore, then a whore you’d be. 

It was the only thing you were good at anyway. 

“Of course,” he nodded. “This thing with Solomons is just shit work anyway. I’ll be there the day before. Will that be alright?” 

“Yes,” you whispered. Are you really willing to let him inside the fort you’ve built with Tommy? “I lost my mom’s locket today and I…” 

“You did?” he asked. He knew how important that locket was to you. You begged him to not take it off during your wedding. If only he knew. He bought you jewels but you never wore another necklace. “We can get you another one. Something that’s even more beautiful than the one you had.”

“I suppose so,” you sighed. “I love you,” 

“I love you too.”

And you weren’t sure if you were still lying. 

-

Simon arrives at your house sometime in the morning, before the sun rises. It was his first time seeing your house—being in your house. It was a small, shabby home with flowers. Have you always liked flowers? One of the servants opened the door for him and he entered. Poor you. Did you always live like this? 

He spots you reading a book on the couch when you look up at him.

“How was your trip?” You close the book and sit upright. “I hope it wasn’t horrible,”

“I’m here now,” he sits down, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. “You’ve been on my mind since you left. Is there anything I have to know?”

“I…I talked to Polly,” you confessed. The grip that he has on your waist tightens. “But we only talked about Johnny. She said that the police aren’t doing anything to know who killed him.”

“I see,” 

“But I left after that. I’ve never seen her since,” you said truthfully. “I told her that we couldn’t meet again,”

“Thank you for not breaking my trust,” he said, removing his grip on you. “You know it’s for us, right?”

“Yes, I know,” you nodded. This is wrong. This is all wrong. Why were you understanding him more? Are you only agreeing with Simon because you hated Tommy at that moment? What’s the sudden change? 

You were all gathered at Johnny's funeral. Simon was beside you, holding your waist protectively. Beth was a wailing mess by the coffin. They were putting him six feet under. Last night was the last time she’ll ever see Johnny’s physical body again. You were bowing your head down, trying to keep your tears away. Johnny had been the father figure and now, he’s gone too. 

The ceremony ends soon enough with Simon never letting go of your body. The Shelbys have noticed. Simon was basically hounding you so you wouldn’t have to talk to others. 

“I sometimes wonder if she stopped talking to us because she wanted to or if she was forced to,” Arthur said, looking at you and your husband. Ada was looking at Polly. They were the only ones who knew. They both agreed to never tell a soul because of how messy things could be. Tommy would wage a war if it concerned you. “The question is why is she letting him?”

Tommy walks to where you were. He clears his throat to make himself known. He watches your figure become rigid. Simon was looking at him, his hand still on your waist. If he could shoot this prick’s hand for even laying a hand on you—

“I’m Tommy Shelby,” he starts. “I just decided to come by and offer a quick greeting to your wife.”

“Of course, Mr. Shelby,” Simon replied, his voice was strained and you were scared. Terrified. “Y/N didn’t tell me about you. Have you, darling?” There was a threat in his voice.

“Oh,” you nod, licking your lips. Your voice was wavering. “Mr. Shelby i-is someone I knew when I was a child, darling. He left for the war and…and…”

“We haven’t seen each other since,” he finishes.  “I wish we could talk more,” Tommy added, confirming what he already thought. He didn’t spare you a glance and if he did, he didn’t make a show of it. “Mr. Coventry. Y/N,” he bowed, taking your gloved hand and kissing your knuckles. He walks away, leaving Simon’s anger and your anxiety behind him. 

Simon didn’t speak to you on the way back. You tried but he only dismissed you with a cold shoulder. When you arrived home, he dragged you by the arm to the living room. You watched while the servants dispersed to give you some privacy. It was funny how they always pretended that they knew nothing.

“Do you really think I’m fucking stupid?” he roared, his loud voice vibrating the walls of your home. “You talked to Polly Gray but didn’t meet Tommy. At all,”

“You have to believe me, Simon. I never…it’s my first time seeing him again!” you pleaded, scared for Tommy’s life—scared for yours. Your arm hurts but you have bigger problems right now. What was a little bruise anyway? “I didn’t even know if he was still alive,”

“Can you shut the fuck up?” he asked. “It’s like everything that you’re saying are…are lies! I gave you everything,” he spits. “I gave you and your friends money. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be in that fucking brothel fucking some twat who could never afford everything that I’m giving you. Is that what you want? Do you want to go back there?”

“Simon,” you tried. “I swear, I didn’t know he was still alive. Polly never told me. I—“

“Liar!” he says, stepping closer to you. He grasps your chin tightly, your head unmoving at the pressure. “I bought you. Don’t you dare fucking disrespect me. I own you,” 

“Simon, please…” you cried. “I swear to you I didn’t…”

“Shut up,” he spits. “You’re fucking disgusting,”

He shoves you to the floor and you cry. He leaves without looking at you. He didn’t apologise for what he did. It was the first time he showed you what you were to him. A property. You didn’t sleep that night; you were just on the balcony, looking at the docks, wondering what would’ve happened if you had just waited. 

-

The morning comes and you are tired. Simon just woke up and decided to stay with you on the balcony. 

“I’m sorry, angel,” he whispers. He wraps his arms around your shoulders. “I’m sorry for doing that. I promise to never do that again. I was just…so angry because Tommy Shelby came to us. Do you see why you’re not allowed to be here? Why I hate it when you’re in Birmingham? These fucking rats have no respect,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“Simon, you said things,” you whispered, looking up at him. Tears stained your cheeks. Everything that he said replayed inside your head over and over.  What right did you have to demand his apology if he owned you? “You…”

Defeated, Simon sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “You know that I’m doing this for us. I’m sorry,”

You could only nod wordlessly, blinking away the tears before they fall again. You didn’t notice the bruising on your jaw yet. You weren’t at the brothel anymore but up to what extent are you truly free? At the end of the day, you’re still weak. You still have nothing. At the end of the day, buttering him up doesn’t matter.

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1912

“One day, we’ll be able to buy those fancy, black cars and drive around London as much as we want.” Tommy said. He was in his work clothes, a greasy white shirt and his shaggy hair falling in different sorts of places. 

“We will?”

“Yes,” he nodded, his shoulder touching yours. You were just about to work when he pulled you away. He asked if you wanted to come with him to The Cut for a little while and you agreed, finding it hard to say no to him. “I’ll get you one and then, I’ll get you a horse.” 

“Don’t forget the house with a big lawn,” you giggled. 

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I’ll buy that first,”

“Would you hate me if things don’t work out the way we want them to?” you asked. “I’m just wondering,”

“Why wouldn’t it? We’re staying together,” Tommy said, casting you a confused look. 

“I mean, you’ll get a wife. I can’t live in the same house as her,” you said. “I don’t want to cause unnecessary problems for the two of you. I want her to be my friend too.”

“I’m not marrying,” he said. “Why should I marry? We come as a pair. Never one without the other. We won’t need anyone else,”

“That would be nice.”

“I get it,” he nodded. “You’re always my main priority. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about all that yet. As long as you’re with me, I’ll be fine,”

“And if I’m not?”

“I won’t,”

“How are you going to do all this?” you asked. You always believed in Tommy.

“I’ll do everything,” 

“You’re a man of ambition, Tommy. Did you know that you can’t have ambition without being a little dangerous?”

He ponders. He’ll deal all of his cards and fold if it came to you.

There were a million things you wanted to tell him at that moment. He does, too. He looks at you so…lovingly and so naturally that it doesn’t seem like anything anymore. Tommy really didn’t fear anything, except when it came to you. He’s scared to tell you the truth because he might change the course of things. He’s scared to never fulfil all of his promises to you. He’s scared that he’ll never amount to anything other than a greasy boy that you took care of. 

He doesn’t say any of this, though, so he just smokes slow. 

-

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

“I have to do something about it,” Tommy told his brothers, taking a swig of his Irish whiskey. He was composed but his mind was running at a speed that he couldn’t quite catch up on. Were you happy in your marriage?

“Tom, it’s better if you could just let her go,” Arthur replied. “It’s not my place, hm? But we saw them yesterday. Maybe it’s for the best,”

“It’s not,” Stoic as ever, he looked ahead. 

“It’s a bad idea…” his older brother tried. “You’re fighting against a king. You’re not—“

“Why is everyone telling me that I can’t do anything? Why?” he asked. “I hardly recall asking for your permission, Arthur. You and Polly have been telling me what I can and can’t do.” 

“Tommy, think about it. With the fucking guns and taking on this whole…thing with her. It’s too big. So, just let it go, eh? You’ll get yourself killed,” John added. He knew of Tommy’s affections for you. Hell, he knew what Tommy meant. John discreetly watched you and your husband. You couldn’t maintain eye contact, you couldn’t speak freely without a stutter. It was so different from the Y/N that he used to know but Tommy couldn’t be persuaded. He was living on the edge of life in the war that it didn’t matter to him if he died or not. He’s free from the fear of death; he could do whatever he wanted. 

“I’m a man of ambition. You can’t have ambition without being a little dangerous,”

-

BANG! BANG! BANG! 

Tommy feels like the world was caving in. Fuck. He always hated sleeping, no matter how much he craved it. The darkness of his room and his closed eyes reminds him of the darkness of the tunnels. The walls and the tightness of the closed spaces; the unknown waiting on the other side. The lives he lost, the blood that his comrades spilled. He sits up, he hates how he couldn’t sleep because he’s always hearing the gunshots and the bombs in France. He hates being weak. Things were never the same and he so desperately wanted it to be. He couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think. He couldn’t see the faint lamp that burned on his bedside table. The ringing in his ears doesn’t subside. It was just fucking dark. 

He looks over his bedside table and reaches for your picture. You always seemed to calm him no matter where he went. No matter what he does, you always seem to ground him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, taking a swig of his whiskey. As if that would just conjure you. He was sometimes convinced that your picture was an apparition of the time when everything was quieter. When his world had no guns and bombs. When you two were together. He frowns, taking his head in between his hands and cries. 

If only he was stronger. If only he was rich. If only he could fulfil all of the promises he gave you. If only.

-

If there was anything he regretted, it was how angry he was when he went to your old house for your first meeting. He’s been waiting to be graced by your smile for years but he couldn’t control the anger that brewed inside him. He was so guarded after the war. But those guards seem to crumble around you, leaving him defenceless and vulnerable like a child. 

A knock on his door arouses him. It was currently just before the sunrise; that hazy blue period that calms him before everyone else wakes. He checked from his window outside but there was nothing. Another knock comes and he sighs, going downstairs to check. He puts his gun behind him. He opens the door and it reveals you.

You were shaking like a leaf when his eyes landed on your figure. 

“I don’t know…where else to…to go,” you whispered. He goes out and looks around to make sure that no one’s there. When the coast is clear, he takes your hand and guides you to the living room. He was hoping that no one heard anything.

“Do you need anything?” he asked. 

“Just…water, please,” 

“Did you walk all the way?” 

“Yeah,” he hears you say while he pours you a glass. “Sorry for disturbing you,” 

“It’s alright,” he tells you, giving you the glass. 

“Yeah,” you replied, drinking the water to avoid any sort of communication with your old friend. “Tommy?”

“Hm?” he asked, sitting in front of you and it’s so different it hurts. He used to sit beside you, knee to knee. He had to blink multiple times to clear his vision—to make sure that you were actually there. “What brings you here?”

“I…I…” you couldn’t say a single word before you broke into tears. It was then when Tommy actually looked at you, the bruising on your chin, your defeated stance. He trembles in anger but forces himself to let it subside and comfort you. “S-sorry,”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, love,” he whispers, sitting beside you this time and rubbing circles on your back. “You don’t have to talk about it,”

“Would you still…would you still protect me?” you asked and you were aware of how selfish you sounded. “You’re right. I’m a-a whore,” you chuckled, looking away from him. “I know I’m being unfair…marrying Simon and then coming here…”

It appals him for you to think that he’ll ever stop protecting you. It disturbs him for letting you think that way because of one argument. 

Your chin was quivering as you tried to form a coherent sentence. 

“I thought…I thought I was free but he laid a hand on me,” you tried. “Gripped my chin and called me his property,”

You told yourself that it wasn’t Tommy’s fault. 

“All because you talked to me during the funeral,” you whispered. You couldn’t stop yourself and Tommy couldn’t stop himself from the emotions that linger. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault that you loved him. 

“Let’s run away,” It’s all his fault. All his fault that he loved you. 

“Tommy…” you whispered, shaking your head. “Did you know…did you know why I stopped talking to you?” you asked him. He didn’t. Maybe the reason why he’s so angry with you was because he didn’t know. “When you were in France, he told me that if I continue any form of communication with the Shelbys…he’ll locate you and your brothers and have the three of you killed.” You reveal to him. “You always said you’ll protect me but I wanted to protect you too.”

Your broken voice was something that he’ll never forget. Your fragile figure was something that he’ll never remove from his brain. You were…miserable. How could you let yourself be miserable for his sake? How could Simon let you cry? How could he break you? You were so strong, the strongest he’s ever known.

“I will kill him,” 

“Tommy, no,” you whimpered. “I’m here to tell you that…that the best way to protect me is to forget about me,”

“You can’t do that to me,” Tommy replied, his voice stern. He was trying so, so hard. “Not when I waited to come home for four years.”

“It’s the best way,” you pleaded. “You can go start a family or…or do something else but if you really want to protect me, you’ll forget about me,” 

You were so defeated, your figure curled to your heart like you were protecting yourself from everyone. Tommy could see the stutter of your body while you tried to control everything.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he tried, blinking the tears away but failing. His resolve was crumbling; popping the joints on his knuckles to ground him. It was then he noticed your nail beds, peeled and crusted with dried blood. You must have been thinking about it for so long. “You’re not giving me a choice here, love,” You must have been hurting.

“He’ll kill you, Tom. I wouldn’t be able to take it if I am the reason why your body’s thrown at The Cut.” you told him. “I let you go once without knowing for sure that you’ll come back alive. I’ll make sure that this time, you are.”

“So that’s it, eh?” he asked. “Your bastard husband threatens my life and you let him control you.” he licks his lips.

“I’m sorry, Tom,” you told him. “That's all I could do. You’re a man…you could have the world. I’m a woman and I can’t have anything unless I make it. This is me making it.” This is me making sure that I’ll never have to think about you. 

You left in the wee hours of the morning and Tommy lets you go without a fight. He thought that he was the one doing the protecting, when you’ve been protecting him all along. You were his most tender wound. Battle scars from France don't compare to the pain he’s feeling in the darkness of the house. Should he run after you? Should he heed your advice? What if he kills Simon? Will you be free then?

“Her husband’s dealing with Alfie Solomons,” he tells everyone during a family meeting. “I’ll deal with Solomons myself,”

“You’re waging a war that is bigger than all of us, Tommy,” Arthur said.

“I’m not asking for approval,” he only replied, his voice was monotonous; suppressing his emotions as much as he could. He swallows. “Information about Y/N’s home life has reached me. She told me that the best way to protect her is to forget about her.” He confessed.

“Well, shit,” Ada replied. “Surely…”

“Surely, I won’t.” he said, voice stern and determined. “I’ll deal all of my cards if I have to. Do you get that?”

“Tommy, it’s a bad idea. She’s right. With the fucking inspector on our throats and Simon Coventry…you’ll get yourself killed.”

“I have decided,”

“Then, what’s all of this for, then?”

“Just letting you know.” he says, looking at everyone’s face of disapproval. 

When he exits the Garrison, Polly runs after him. She was determined to let him let you go for your safety. It was a sticky situation that Tommy was putting himself in. A semblance of power doesn’t mean that he’s powerful but he couldn’t seem to understand that. 

“Tommy, do you want to save her because you want to or is it because you have to prove yourself to you?” she asked him, grasping his arm. 

“Polly—“

“Do you love her because you do or do you only think you do because you need her? It’s alright to let her go, Tom. You have to realise that maybe she’s correct,” she reasoned. “The more you move, the more she’s constricted—“ 

“You took her away from me, Polly,” he spits. “How can I not love her when I need her beside me to even get a wink of sleep? Her picture was all I looked at in France. She is the reason why I’m alive—why I’m here. You took her away from me and I am taking her back. Does that look like love to you?” he demanded, shaking her arm away. 

“You want to know what blinds a man as smart as you, Tom? Love,” she says. “You’re making things—“

“So I am blind,” he shrugs. “I vowed to protect her and that is a vow that I’ll take to the grave with me, Pol. You could help or not. It wouldn’t matter either way but you owe it to me to try. At least,” 

A beat passes, Polly doesn’t speak. He nods to excuse himself, walking away as the blind man.

-

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m so glad you’re still here.

Don’t forget to reblog / leave a comment if you liked it!

PART 4

TAGLIST:  @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius​ @trixie23​ @everythingelseisextra​ @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay @dasia21 @tsenthusiast1920 @aces-tattooartist @panda-luminary @ttaechi @spencerrxids @i-heart-food @fudge13 @affabletimelady @heartcereql @ce1iat @notalxx @1800-queen-trash

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Star Beast - Part One

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook's Star Beast Set Visit in DWM 597:

There’s a buzz in the air in Camden Town tonight as the market vendors shut up shop. Businessmen wait on the bridge by the lock. Students rush from the Starbucks, buskers busk. Tourists jostle for a selfie spot, next to the bronze statue of Amy. At the northernmost point of Camden High Street, a man with a mohawk folds away his cardboard placard (‘HELP A PUNK TO GET DRUNK’) and heads across the road to buy a Red Bull from the 24/7. Three men in North Face jackets, one on a stepladder, yank a tarpaulin sheet off a police box. Security guards change shifts. On Gin Alley, people are still queuing for meat and noodles. A woman in a Kermit tee leaves Oddballs carrying a unicycle. Rose Noble buys a bagful of eyes. Outside Cyberdog, two silver robots, three times the height of the average human, stand vigil. A different crowd is gathered here too, dripping in scarves, bowties, and pinstripes. A dog barks. A neon sign flickers. David Tennant arrives. Some people cheer. Others clap. A boy in a beanie hat drops his falafel. An ambulance siren wails in the distance. Two-hundred phones are held aloft. “What a rock star,” says Doctor Who’s executive producer, Phil Collinson. “I still can’t quite believe David is back on the Doctor Who set.” Neither can he. “It’s mental,” says David, grinning. “We’ve got three more months of this.” It’s mid-May 2022, and he’s donned the vintage Converse once more to play the Doctor, alongside Catherine Tate as Donna Noble, in three hour-long 60th Anniversary Specials. They began filming in Cardiff last week. A few days ago, he recorded his half of the regeneration from Jodie Whittaker’s Thirteenth Doctor.

I’ll post additional parts in the coming months with the  #whoBtsBeast tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[punkeropercyjackson]

Hobie Brown being black headcanons by an afrosolarpunk because white punks be overstepping with him

He's jamaican-ugandan and Earth 139 Camden Town raised,based on his wicks,patois usage,love of the sea(lives on a boat),darker/stronger features,surname and Daniel Kaluuya

His wicks used to be dreads

His rbf comes from being audhd with no masking game because growing up black means he never learned how to mask

He also grew up getting bullied at school and a bully beater,even for kids who were mean to him,and was kicked out of multiple ones due to refusing to stop standing up for himself and other little guys

Before the Spiderbands(comics + movie)came along,he didn't have real friends and it took him a while to realize it,caused by the normalization for nonblacks to use and treat their black friends as lesser than them.It broke his heart when it hit him but thanks to having real friends,he's slowly healing and learning self-love and how much he's worth

He was treated so badly over his looks he literally developed ptsd and wouldn't have had it that young if it weren't for all the insults and backhanded compliments he got.He knows he's cool.Does he know he's handsome,pretty,cute and every other non-sexual word for attractive?Nah and it takes him a long time to believe it

He's the biggest mama's boy ever and hates his dad for being a deadbeat(the latter is canon to the comics per his og Prowler incarnation).He also feels bad about having a deadbeat dad for 'being a stereotype' and it pisses him off because TIGER is the one playing into the stereotype by BEING a deadbeat.His mama's name is Tani'yah(created by @teenpunkblack)and he calls her Mama specifically and she calls him 'My Sea Star' and he started having wicks to model himself after her and she couldn't always protect him for reasons beyond her control and feels like she failed him but he never,EVER resents her and is grateful for all she did to raise him,which is everything she could and constantly thrived for more.She was also the only positive adult figure he had until he met Jessica,with grown ahh people like his teachers straight picking on him when they got the chance.That helped his anti-authority mindset big time

He's transmasc unlabeled i.e nonbinary and boygirl.He diy'd his own testosterone and has anchor top surgery scars and Tani'yah named him,his egg cracking at age seven and he came out to her before he did anyone else and a bit later asked her to name him,doing the 🥺 face and she assigned Hobart.He has the gender trauma that comes with being black but the black trans swag too and he's femme(canon)and uses both male and female terms and being called 'Peter Pan','Babyboy' and 'Angel' gives him gender euphoria

He has a strong aversion to blondeness and blue eyes because of the aformentioned ptsd origin and his one rule in punk body modification is he'll never bleach his hair(yes,this is an Arms Race look diss.Apologize to Gwen for the comparisons RN,Hobie was literally whitewashed)

Other than punk rock,his favorite music genres are calypso,rap,black death metal and lo-fi hip hop.He's into pop/pop punk too but literally only listens to black pop artists and is a Meet Me @ The Altar stan('Kool','Switchblade' and 'TMI' are totally a Hobie vibe.'I'm normally like this' by Alt Black Era is too)

His special interests are the sea,punk culture,dogs,indie media and kidcore.He's a surfer,he makes sea material based things,his favorite season is summer,his favorite jamaican/ugandan cuisines are their sea foods,he has countless marine facts memorized,his type is mermaid-y black women,he always wanted a pet dog as a kid and even acted like one sometimes like having a barking vocal stim and it turns out not only did his dream come true in Spidermutt but he's also actually dogkin(great dane),he pursues indie games and obscure shows/movies/podcasts/etc in favor of popular media to support small creators for anti-capitalism and kidcore is the perfect coping mechanism for all the adultification trauma he got and allowing himself to be openly soft and have fun and be cared for without loosing his punkness

Jessica is the one who found him,completely by accident,and brought him to Spider Society,completely on purpose.She saw a spark in him and slowly took him as a son figure at the same time Hobie slowly started viewing Jessica as his second mother.They're literally the cooler Miles and Peter B relathionship wise and Jessica stands up for Hobie against adults while Hobie jumps people for being rude to Jessica and they take care of eachother's hair,go out for street food trucks food together,share a bed sometimes and parallell play whenever they can and Jessica calls Hobie her Baby and Hobie diy's gifts for his Spidermama.They're also afropunk/black earthy solidarity and Hobie turned Jessica into an afrosolarpunk specifically

He says 'nigga' fairly often and uses bonnets but not durags and said bonnets are mostly hand-me-downs and he has them little flags on sticks of the jamaican,british and ugandan flags

He has a complex skincare routine and an even more complex haircare routine.He smells super good 24/7 as a result

He actually loves incense because it reminds him of Tani'yah so he uses it around his house boat and his room has not a door but a beads curtain in his colors(blue,red,pink and white)

He loves african chai so bad and not a black thing but he also loves cotton candy boba so bad(fr i learned how to make it at home and i unlocked a new chemical in my head,Hobs deserves to drink it too)

Hobie is not a feminist.Hobie is a womanist and also black4black

Him and Margo are tight.It started when he went up to her to ask her for help on learning how to use technology and they went on a cyberadventure across the Spidernet interesting enough to fill a half hour short and didn't sleep the whole night and Margo faceplanted into her loaded nachos while Hobie squeezed his soda can so hard it spurted onto the ceiling when Lyla told them good morning.Margo is haitian-american so there's a lot of cultural exchange going on and she's into pink y2k black girl aesthetics and the lifestyle so Hobie joins in with her when asked and they're very openly affectionate to the point they could be mistaken for a couple but also is it really mistake?They're not so sure themselves and they're totally okay with that.All that matters is they love eachother and that they're Hobie and Margo,not just Hobie and just Margo.They go out for voodoo donuts in their respective dimensions as a duo every saturday <3

Afrolatina Gwen 'cause it fits and fixes.She's a lightskin biracial afro-dominicana with black hair and brown eyes,one of the mermaid-y black women Hobie's type is and had straight hair in Itsv but locs in Atsv as an implied hair journey.They met at one of his concert's where she thought he was super hot and made an absolute fool of herself but his autistic ass found that super hot so he brought her up on stage to sing as a ref to that one concept art and they reunited the next day at Spider Society when she recognized him as that one kid Jessica also mentors and ran up to him to reintroduce herself,him being stunned at her being Ghostspider.She reached out to unmask him so he smirked and did the same,saying 'Eager to see your pretty face again too,Gwendita' and they linked arms as they walked together and yapped about tons of things,becoming best friends from that day on.Hobie gets Gwen into the political sides of punk she wasn't allowed to touch before and takes her with him to protests,riots and charities and Gwen gets Hobie to remember he's allowed to participate in the fun parts of punk by dragging him to steal food from marts with her,teaching him to skateboard and introducing him to pastel punk and she's also the reason for his kidcore spinterest as she introduced him to that too to help him heal his inner child as she does herself

Gwen kicks George's ass instead of being gaslight by him into thinking he always loved her for the copganda narrative since he only wants half of who she is(triple meaning).Hobie suggested Gwen's locs but Jessica did them for her and Hobie convinced Gwen to dye her hair pink and did to that job for her and that was how they got together,him leaning over her as his hands were covered in pink hair dye and earlier in the day he mentioned he'd never been kissed on the lips as he gave her a good morning cheek kiss so she took the chance on impulse and kissed him fullon then hid her face in her hair in embarrasment and whispered an apology at his shocked state only for him to tell her to do it again so she did and they nonsexually made out,him taking the lead this time.She calls him 'Hubbie' because she already considers him her husband and he calls her 'Babydoll' in addition to Gwendita because 1.black nickname and 2.Gwen's kidcore special interest includes a heavy love for dolls like Polly Pocket,Monster High,Shopkins,etc

He's a big fan of Amanda The Adventurer,Abbott Elementary and Craig Of The Creek.Margo,Jessica and Gwen are responsible for them in order

He adresses them,Tani'yah and Miles as 'my fave gyals' and 'the angels of my life'

He has a fat ass crush on Miles and him,Gwen and Margo are the Spidey Core Four because Hobie and Margo went looking for Gwen in worry when they saw she sneaked off without telling them so they ended up being a part of the Gwen and Miles dynamics as a best friends quartet,starting mid-swinging across New York scene.He calls Miles 'Tinkerbell' and his first words to him when he caught him just as he was about to fall as Margo did the sane for Gwen were 'Ay,Tinkerbell,you out of pixie dust?Need a lil faith and trust?',the cat charm on his Watch concept art was a gift from Miles to him and Jefferson and Rio approve of them so hard because they're a black4black couple and Hobie is afropunk personified.Punkflower is punk4punk canonically since Miles' symbol was based on the anarchy symbol and they do graffiti and bake sunflower themed baked goods as solo dates

'Solo dates' because the Spidey Core Four are a polycule.They're all aroacespec so they're relathionship anarchy and t4t4t4t4t and the group date activities they do are petty crime sprees,meme challenges to post on Margo's and Miles' tiktok,beach days in matching diy'd spidersuit themed swimsuits that blend in through superhero logic,arcade trips and a cat cafe on Earth 22191 that includes Aibo cats(interdimentional differences are freaky,right?)

[daisies-daydreams]

Alright, on to the actual song request.

I can’t actually link the song anonymously so here’s the name: Those Eyes by New West. It’s just super cute and soft and I have a craving for domestic fluff and awkward, goofy, lanky punk boy.

-🪶 (also I’m 19)

Those Eyes (Hobie Brown x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader Category: Fluff (Slight Angst) Tags: Mentions of Drinking/Smoking Weed, Depictions of Post-Sex (No Smut), Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Reminiscing, Depictions of Injuries/Trauma (Brief) Word Count: 1k+ A/N: Omg I listened to this song for the first time because of this request and it's literally so sweet. 🥹 Flashbacks/Reminiscing scenes are in italics. Also I'm so so sorry it's taken me this long to finish your request, but I hope you enjoy! Song: Those Eyes by New West

You smiled up at Hobie as the two of you were tucked away beneath one of his bedsheets. He grinned warmly and pecked your lips, his mouth lingering against yours as he sweetly cupped your face.

"You got such gorgeous eyes, y'know that?" Hobie rumbled quietly. You felt your cheeks grow warm as your heart skipped a beat.

"H-Hobie," you flushed. Hobie chuckled as he peppered your face with kisses.

"It's true. It's the first thing I noticed when we first met," he sighed.

༺♥༻

Hobie blinked when his hand slipped against someone else's in the back of the cab.

"Whoops. Sorry 'bout that, love. Didn't know this cab was taken," he shrugged before glancing up. Hobie felt his heart stop as he gazed upon your face. To anyone else, you were a mess: your hair was tousled, your lips parted and breath pungent with alcohol (granted, he probably looked the same way after just stumbling out of the pub a minute ago).

But to him, you were a divine being shining before him.

Your hiccup drew him out of his trance.

"D-Do you come here often?" you slurred. Hobie cracked a smile as he chuckled.

"Not this particular cab, no," he hummed. "Where you headin'?" Hobie added with a concerned look. You gave him your address, your eyelids fluttering as your head rolled towards him. He smiled as he let you rest your cheek against his arm.

"That's not too far from my place," he murmured.

It really was, but he couldn't let you travel alone in this state.

༺♥༻

You grinned that sweet grin of yours, your eyes sparkling like two pristine diamonds. Hobie chuckled as you leaned up and captured his lips in a tender kiss, your fingers playing with his dark wicks. A smirk crossed his face as he heard you squeal when he playfully flicked his tongue along your bottom lip. He sighed as the two of you parted for air, your chests rising and falling in unison.

"I swear, I could get high off of your kisses," he cooed while cupping his sharp cheek. You smiled before giggling. Hobie chuckled. "What?" he asked before pecking your lips again. You bit your lip.

"Nothing," you shrugged. Hobie raised his brows as he shot you a lopsided grin.

"You sure? Doesn't sound like nothin'," he said as he playfully kissed along his jaw. He grinned as he heard you squeak, knowing his feather-light kisses were tickling your skin.

"O-Okay, you win," you yielded with a laugh, holding your hands against his taut chest. Hobie smirked and pulled back, his brows raised as he expectantly waited for your answer. You took a deep breath.

"My comment just made me think about...well, that time I called you from the phone boxes," you muttered sheepishly. Hobie furrowed his brows before his face softened, a chuckle escaping him as he remembered that time.

༺♥༻

"Babe?" Hobie asked, his face scrunched with worry. It's been hours since you went out with your friends, the dead of night having already crept over Camden town. He heard you gasp on the other end.

"Oh my God, Hobie! Hi! It's you!" you squealed. Hobie's expression shifted as he cracked a smile. He heard your friends laughing and snorting in the background.

"Guys, stop! I'm talking to my super-duper hot boyfriend," you drawled. Hobie huffed out a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, it's me. What's goin' on, sweetheart?" he asked as he shifted his phone to his other ear. He heard you giggle.

"D'aww, you called me sweetheart!" you cooed. He heard you gasp before a scraping noise was heard. Your friends cackled in the background like a murder of crows.

"(Y/N), you alright?" he asked, worry quickly rushing back in. You huffed and nodded.

"Yeahhhh, I'm great babe. Baby, baby babe," you babbled. "My friends and I are just hanging out by the river, smoking...stuff," you added. Before Hobie could offer a witty remark, he heard you groan. "Oh shit. Why's Kool-Aid coming out of my knees?" you said. Hobie sighed and shook his head.

"I'll come pick you up, yeah?" he said. He heard you make a strange noise on the other end.

"Mmmm'kay. Love you," you said in a sing-song voice. His heart skipped a beat at your words. Despite the two of you being together for about a month, it was the first time those words left your lips. A warm smile grew over his features as he nodded.

"Love ya, too, babe. See you soon"

༺♥༻

Both of you laughed as you two recalled that night.

"I've never seen you that out of it. Though I have to admit, you were pretty adorable," he said and playfully poked the tip of your nose. You rolled your eyes and snickered.

"Being high is 'adorable'?" you asked. Hobie grinned and tilted his head side to side.

"Well, not really the 'high' part. More like the part when you refused to let go of me once we got home," he smirked. Your eyes widened as you looked away.

"Don't remind me," you whined. Hobie smirked.

"'I'm never lettin' you go, Hobie. Never never never'," he recited your words teasingly. You groaned and hid your face in your hands.

"Seriously, how much pot did I smoke that night?" you asked. Hobie pursed his lips as he hummed.

"Enough for the police to not find any evidence," he smirked. You groaned again and shook your head. Hobie chuckled and leaned his face closer.

"Lemme see you again, sweetheart," he murmured. You made a small crack between your fingers as you looked up at him. He caught a small sliver of a glint in your eyes. "C'mon. Lemme see that beautiful face I love so much," Hobie said in a low, husky drawl. He felt you relax beneath him before you fully withdrew your hands from your face. He smiled. "There you are," he said and gently pushed some hair from your face.

That soft expression you were giving him, it was the same one he'd always remember whenever he was on a long mission.

 ༺♥༻

Hobie panted as he crawled through a cracked window on his canal boat. He grunted as he gripped his side, the previous battle with Doc Ock taking a larger toll on his body that any other villains he fought. He took several deep breaths as he pulled off his mask. His nostrils flared as he could still feel his heartbeat inside of his ears, his blood pumping rapidly.

Images of the battle flashed in his mind: every dip of Ock's tentacles, every punch thrown, the metallic taste filling his mouth.

His heart began to race as he tried to steady his breath, his ribs aching with a sharp pain as he pinched his brows together.

But then, in the midst of the images of fists flying and bodies being thrown...your face appeared. Hobie's eyes shot open as he saw you in his mind cupping his face, your smile warming him from head to toe. He saw you dancing to a song playing while the two of you strolled the city streets. His heartbeat began to slow as he sucked in a shaky breath.

Hobie smiled as he remembered the way you looked wearing his t-shirt during a lazy Sunday afternoon, or all decked out in punk gear at one of his shows. He sighed and closed his eyes as he sat back on his couch.

His expression relaxed as he remembered all the little things you did... and how each one made him fall completely for you.

----

Thank you for reading! ❤️

Taglist: @yuhhtricki999 @lavenderbabu @thedevax @famouscattale @spktrgantenk @zombieblogx @mrswhitethornbelikov @migueloharastruelove @galaxy-dusk @samanthashadowriley @theloneshadow24 @xxkay15xx @inspace1 @manlikemilesmyguy @ghostslynx @synamonthy @oharasfilipinawife @scaleniusrm @jotarossshark @acotarobbsessed @8xbygirl @catchmeupimgettingoutofhere @lyrasdrawer @mcmiracles @genma-support-group @rattybimbo @rinyukaa

Want to be a part of my taglist? Comment down below! (MUST BE 18 OR OLDER)

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

TOM HARDY MASTER LIST

For Tom Hardy, I'll write for:

- Alfie Solomons

- Eames

- Eddie Brock

- Bane

- Tom Conlon

If you have a request, please try to stick to these, but if you want something else, just message me or ask, I'll see what I can do :p

And I only write for Fem! And GenderNeutral! as that's what I'm comfortable with.

-

Alfie Solomons

The Boogeyman 🎃Halloween Special🎃 

- Monster!Alfie Solomons

Summary: "Do not misbehave, be a good girl. And no matter what. Never! enter the woods. He will get you."

In a small village plagued by the ominous presence of the Boogeyman, you, a young and curious woman, find your world forever altered when you cross paths with Alfie Solomons, an enigmatic and older man. Instantly captivated by his mystique, you're drawn into his intriguing world, but as your connection deepens, you can't help but wonder if your newfound association with him will lead to unforeseen danger and consequences.

(UNEDITED)

Soulbound Scars (ONESHOT)

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

- Soulmate AU

Summary: In a gritty world of crime and secrets, Y/n, marked by shared scars and pain with feared gang leader Alfie, takes an unexpected punch to his face.

(UNEDITED)

Brave Little Protector (ONESHOT)

Summary: Following a night on the town, Alfie and Y/n's evening takes an ominous turn when a menacing group of men attempts to intimidate them. Despite Alfie's leg issues, the men foolishly believe they have the upper hand, oh boy, were they mistaken.

(UNEDITED)

Mine to Kill (ONESHOT)

Alfie Solomons x Gn!Reader 

Summary: When Alfie finds himself on the brink of death yet again, it's Y/n who drags him to an unexpected safe haven. Even with the hate between the two, they can’t deny the connection between the two of them. 

(UNEDITED)

Spoiled 

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Part One

Summary: Y/n is looking in a dress boutique when a strange man comes in and pays for her dress. This forms a strange friendship between Y/n and Alfie. 

Part Two

Summary: Alfie and Y/n had been friends for a while now and Y/n started catching feelings.

(UNEDITED)

DestinyAlfie Solomons x Gn!Reader

Summary: The story follows Alfie and the reader, who repeatedly cross paths throughout their lives but never truly meet until they both end up in Camden after the war. Despite numerous near-miss encounters, a fateful day finally brings them together, and their meeting feels like the culmination of a deep, unspoken connection.

[fallatyourfeet]

Faded Shadows (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Summary: Alfie never could have guessed how things would play out after you virtually forced your way into his office.

Word count: 1205

Warnings: Swearing, lots and lots of it. Alludes to physical abuse. And the reader is a newly widowed woman.

A/N: Okay, so this fic started off with playful intentions, but quickly grew pretty macabre. I take no responsibility for it. It just happened. It's not my fault.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

It was true. The people in Alfie’s neighbourhood were hardly known for their fine King’s English. It's fair to say the Camden Town tongue was a little rough around the edges and not shy of curse word or two. And Alfie’s ears were certainly no stranger to the odd colourful word slipping from the mouths of the women in his life. But never, as a boy, teenager or fully grown man had he heard such brutal language coming from such a sweet-sounding voice. If everyone around him swore like sailors, then the faceless voice causing a ruckus from somewhere outside his office, surely wrote the sailor’s dictionary. 

Partly frustrated but mostly amused, Alfie dropped his pen to the desk and leaned back in his chair, listening to the string of words caught between the all the expletives. “Fucking let go of me you filthy c**ts, I’m gonna get in that fucking room one way or another... That bastard in there, had my bloody husband killed... and I wanna see his goddamn face.”  

Alfie’s amusement dissolved, replaced by an audible sigh of dread as he mumbled under his breath, “Fuck... a bloody widow.” Yelling out to Caleb, he demanded, “Let the woman in would ya, she ain’t gonna let it go.” Standing up he moved to the side of his desk, mumbling to himself again, “Might as well get this over with.” 

Coming through the door between two of his men, you ripped your arms from their grip, giving them the filthiest look as you did so. Your face was one of the sweetest things he had ever seen, but the look was so deadly Alfie had to hold back a chuckle. ‘You were a feisty one, weren’t you?’ 

Taking a deep calming breath, you smoothed over your dress. It was well worn and long out of fashion, but you were immaculate. You obviously didn’t have a penny to scratch together, but you took pride in yourself, making the most of what you had. And Alfie found himself warming to you already. 

Running your fingers through your hair, you tamed all the locks that had escaped during your scuffle with his men, and finally looked at him. Your expression had lost almost all of its venom, nearly matching the sweetness of your beautiful features and he instantly felt a pang of guilt. One, for being the reason you were now a widow, and two, for finding a newly widowed woman so bloody attractive.  

Lifting your chin in a show of defiance; or was it pride? you held his intense gaze, and if you felt a single ounce of fear, you did not show it. Either way, he thought to himself, ‘Hmph, beautiful and brave.’  

Clearing your throat, you spoke, your words suddenly devoid of any of the foul language he heard spilling from your mouth just moments ago, “Alfie Solomons?” 

With a nod, Alfie crossed his arms before him, “Yeah, that’d be me.” 

Taking a step closer, you also nodded your head, your eyes never leaving his, “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and your men murdered my husband, Peter, three days ago.” Alfie opened his mouth to respond, but you held a single finger in the air, a silent, but very clear gesture to shut him up. The moment he closed his mouth you lowered your hand, and continued, “Did they shoot him on your order?”  

Alfie wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Sure, from time to time he lost a bit of sleep over the number of men that were tossed into shallow graves by his order. But the reality of standing there, looking into your expressive E/C eyes and taking responsibility for killing the man you loved, twisted like a burning hot poker in his stomach. He doubted he would sleep for months.  

A moment of silence passed, and your expression shifted with a touch of impatience while you waited for your answer. Moving his arms from across his chest, he shuffled on his feet, his hands coming to rest at his hips, it was almost defensive, “Yeah, I did... He was becoming too much of a liability.” Alfie almost cringed at his words. Although true, they seemed too harsh as he heard them slip from his lips. His bluntness had never bothered him before but using it on you felt like a crime. Raising his hands in the air, he quickly spoke again, wanting to rephrase a little more tactfully, “I’m sorry, forgive my bluntness... but your husband-” 

Taking him by surprise, you cut him off, “Stop. I don’t need to know the reason.” Alfie stood there, mouth open, completely unprepared for the words you spoke next, “You don’t know how many times I stood beside that drunk, good for nothin’ monster as he lay passed out on the bed, just wishing I was brave enough to push a pillow against his face.” Honestly, Alfie was at a loss for words, but you were not. Taking a step closer, you were almost close enough to touch. Searching your eyes, he tried to understand the gratitude they held, but he quickly understood when you spoke again, “I’m thankful he’s gone... but I’m thankful I didn’t have to do it myself... because I don’t think I could have lived with the guilt.”  

And that was when Alfie saw them, the faded shadows across your arms... around the base of your neck... and along your cheekbone. The ghosts of bruises partially disguised by whatever powder you had covered them with. Suddenly, any worries he had about sleepless nights, dissolved. The only guilt he felt was for not killing the bastard sooner.  

Words finally found their way to his lips, trying to lighten the rather heavy interaction, “Well, ain’t this a fuckin’ turn of events? I thought I was a goner when I heard you out the front of my office... Remind me to never get on your bad side, yeah?” 

For the first time, you looked a little coy, “Ah... yeah sorry about the language. My mouth has a habit of running away with me when I’m worked up... and your men just wouldn’t listen.” 

Alfie chuckled, “With a mouth like that, you fit right in around here.” Speaking the words flicked a switch on inside his head. This feisty little firecracker of a woman really would fit right in, and God knows he was drowning in paperwork. It was high time he could do with some help. If he was being completely honest with himself, the thought of having you close by pleased him in ways he couldn’t explain. And under his protection he could make sure he never had to see those horrible faded shadows across your skin again. He would make sure of it. 

Moving back to his seat behind the desk, he gestured to the chair in front, “Why don’t cha take a seat Mrs Y/L/N, I’d like to make a little proposition... and if ya accept, those men out the front will have no choice but to listen to ya.” Resting his elbows on the desk, he leaned forward and asked, your answering smile, lighting up the edges of his heart. “How well do ya know your way around a typewriter?” 

[jokeroutsubs]

📝ENG Translation: The band Joker Out has gotten used to London

Article published today, 13.3.2024, by Primorske Novice, available here.

The guys from Joker Out have been living in London, where they've been working on new songs, for almost two months now. The first one of them, 'Everybody's Waiting', has just recently been released to the public "Our routine is quite music-oriented", the Jokers, who live in a shared house, told us.

LONDON > "We found a lovely house in a nice area of London. It's very comfortable, not the most spacious, but it gives us a closeness we've never had before," said the musicians, who go to bed around 3am, which is why they wake up late, and then slowly get ready for the day. Then, after lunch and coffee, they head to the rehearsal space.

Vrhnika bolognese by Jan Peteh

"Janči is the main cook in our house. Since we've been in London, he's fallen under the influence of Jamie Oliver, but otherwise we rotate a few recipes, our favourite being the Vrhnika bolognese, which is a risotto with minced meat that we highly recommend," told us the boys, who also love rice cooked with milk¹ and popcorn - but not together of course! A bigger challenge than the house was finding a place to rehearse.

¹ T./N.: 'mlečni riž' = a simple dish made by cooking rice with milk instead of with water. Usually a bit of butter is added for better taste. It can be additionally sweetened with some sugar and other additions, like cocoa or chocolate powder.

"Our main requirement was to find a place where we could rehearse 24 hours a day, every day of the week, which is more challenging in London than we imagined. Obviously bands here rent spaces by the hour, not like we do in Slovenia, where we have a permanent space. Neighbours are also usually a big problem in London, because it's a metropolis.Then, luckily, we found a place where we can rehearse in the middle of the night, but it's more of a garage setting, so it's reminiscent of the early days of our band life."

Camden is their favourite

After rehearsals, the boys usually head home, but sometimes they go out to explore the city and London's musical scene a bit. "Out of everyone we've met, the musicians were actually in the minority, but on the other hand we've made friends with some really great people, including a photographer who has become our friend. We've also already found out that Camden is an area of London where practically everyone is involved in music, which is why it's now our favourite part of the town," said our Jokers, who set off on their European tour last week.

-~-~-~

❗ DO NOT REPOST, and if you quote, please link back to this post.

[griffther]

there’s so many ppl enabling me in the notes of this post, so here enjoy some Thoughts i’ve had about the nurseydex maine road trip so far:

they do a road trip up the coast of maine over fall break their senior year so that nursey can see acadia national park while the leaves are changing

william “acts of service” poindexter decides that it is his Responsibility as nursey’s captain and fellow d-man to become maine’s official tour guide barbie. he plans the entire thing out and even prints them little itineraries and maps and shit because this boy is nothing is not Efficient

nursey makes them stop to see every single lighthouse they go anywhere near just to be a little shit (there are 65 lighthouses in maine, this would take So Long even if you just stopped at like a quarter of them)

the only canonical reference i could find for any actual locations in maine in the comic is that dex said his uncle who owned the lobster fishing boat he worked on over the summers lived in portland

(a side note to the above, i find this hilarious. portland is an pretty solidly liberal urban city - imagine a very small boston - and not somewhere you’re very likely to find small family-owned lobster fishing boats, at least in my experience. it would make way more sense for his uncle to live somewhere like rockland but i digress)

dex is 100% positive that nursey would Love portland so he carves out two whole days of their trip for them to stay with his uncle and explore. they go to the art museum and old port and the port head lighthouse and the top of the world lookout at fort sumner park and all the little shops and hidden places dex had found from living there every summer for years

nursey does end up loving portland but it might be more about the boy that shows it to him

even though his uncle lives in portland, i am still personally convinced that dex’s family mostly lives around the rockland area. i will go on a rant about nursey meeting dex’s close family another time, but while they’re in rockland, nursey continues his dedication to seeing all the lighthouses he can by forcing dex to make the almost mile long trek out to the breakwater lighthouse with him (don’t think about them standing alone next to this little building almost a mile out from land. the wind is chilly and strong and it makes dex’s hair look ridiculous and his cheeks flush and nursey definitely doesn’t want to kiss him ITS FINE ITS CHILL)

dex has them make a detour up to bangor and surprises nursey with going to see stephen king’s house. he doesnt understand why people are interested in looking at some dudes house At All but he does know nursey would love it so he does it anyways. the fence is cool and nursey gets so excited he almost face plants jumping out of the car, so dex counts it as a success

some random places i feel like dex would make them stop at along the way: freeport (nursey is both so confused and so delighted by just Everything about that place, but he loses his mind over the mcdonald’s and the ll bean outlet), ogunquit (dex purposefully takes highway 1 instead of the maine turnpike going towards portland so that they drive through ogunquit and he can see nursey’s face when he realizes they’re driving through the single gayest town he’s ever seen in his life and it’s in southern maine), moose point state park (there are a billion lil state parks in maine but i just randomly like this one in particular idk i think it’s cute), camden hills state park (it’s too foggy when they get there to drive up to the top so nursey makes them go on a hike instead so they didn’t “waste their time.” they get lost within like 10 minutes and are wet from the fog by the time they make it back to the car like 2 hours later), the desert of maine (it’s kinda boring to dex bc he’s seen it a dozen times since he was a kid, but nursey gets enthralled by the science behind it so it’s worth it), cushing (this is where the famous painter andrew wyeth lived at the olson house and was the subject of a lot of his work and i just feel like nursey would have fun seeing this place)

when they eventually make it to acadia, nursey ends up spending like two solid hours just sitting at sargent peak staring out over everything and desperately scrawling out lines of poetry into his notebook (dex spends most of those 2 hours staring at nursey but somehow doesn’t notice that nursey definitely isn’t writing about the scenery)

[runnning-outof-time]

How the Bestest Boy Celebrates the Holidays

Request: no - @raincoffeeandfandoms and I were talking about Christmas Cyril and this popped into my mind.

Pairing: no pairing … just Cyril, Alfie, and Tommy with the mention of the lovely OC Rose Solomons

Summary: Cyril’s two dads owners discuss how their canine best friend should be treated on the holidays.

Warnings: language (Alfie’s present…does it even need to be a warning?), two gangsters who are secretly softies when it comes to a certain dog - this is just a silly little story, y’all.

Word Count: 629

A/N: I hope you enjoy this little piece that I came up with after chatting with Flor….Cyril deserves to have the best holidays! Also thanks to the lovely Flor for this amazing picture - it’s what sparked this entire idea. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

“You’ve got Cyril’s presents all ready, yeah?” Alfie Solomons asked as he leaned back against his office’s chair, the phone receiver pressed to his ear.

Tommy Shelby sighed. The man on the other line hadn’t even greeted him. “He’s a fucking dog, Alfie,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, “please don’t tell me this is why you called.”

“He’s our fucking dog though, Tommy. He deserves some fucking presents, don’t you think?” Alfie quipped back, waving his hand in the air even though he was sitting by himself.

“I’ve been too busy to deal with it,” Tommy tried another strategy to deflect Alfie’s topic.

“And you think I haven’t been busy? Hmm?” Alfie quickly shot back, “you think the reason why I traipsed my way over to your fucking gaudy mansion for four of the last eight fucking days was to see you? You’re wrong, mate. I came for that dog. I only come for that dog. And then he enjoyed himself at Margate for the final four, was pampered like he should be. His gifts were custom-fucking-made, Tommy. But now you’re going to sell him short.”

“You made all of his presents?” Tommy picked one of the points Alfie made and asked him to elaborate on it, trying so hard to stay interested in this conversation. The conversation that was centered around a dog, and how said dog should be treated during the holidays.

“Nah, Rosie made most of ‘em,” Alfie answered nonchalantly, unable to stop a grin from forming as he mentioned his wife, “she sent me out to grab the rest…like the treats and whatnot.”

“And I’m needed to do the same now?” Tommy asked another question.

“It’s what’s right, Tommy,” Alfie insisted, “unless you want him thinking that Hanukkah is better than Christmas…then by all means, keep fucking it up for yourself.”

“Christmas isn’t until the 25th of the month, Alfie.”

“That’s just a week away.”

“Yeah, so I’ve got a week to get what I need for him.”

“It should be ready for when he returns, which is tomorrow.”

“Alfie…”

“Thomas,” Alfie leveled his tone to match the Birmingham gangster’s. “It needs to be right for him.”

Tommy let out a long sigh. There was no way he was going to beat Alfie Solomons at this fight, not when the other man’s mind had already been made up. They’d known each other too many years now for Tommy not to realize that that was how the baker from Camden Town operated.

“Is there anything else you wanted to discuss?” the blue-eyed man asked after a few moments had passed, deciding to change the topic of conversation. Silence came in response. “Alfie?” he checked to see if his confidant was still on the other side of the line.

“Nah, mate. That was it,” Alfie’s response was quick, and it made Tommy sigh again, “just make sure that dog’s presents are sorted, or it’s your fucking head on the line, got it?” The second half of his statement held a threatening tone.

“Got it,” Tommy responded. He was unable to get another word out before the line clicked and went dead. Alfie had hung up on him.

Tommy sat the phone back onto the hook before pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a sigh. Alfie was taking this whole holiday thing way too far. He was making a much bigger deal out of it than was needed.

Besides, if he knew the Peaky Blinder as much as he claimed he did, he would have known that Tommy already had all of Cyril’s presents purchased and in order…and that he had had them ready weeks ago.

That’s what the bestest boy deserves on the holidays, right?

I’m really not sure who I should tag in this … so I’m just gonna add some mutuals/people on here who might be interested - I’m sorry if I forgot anyone! Hopefully it gets sent out…..

@raincoffeeandfandoms @zablife @call-sign-shark @evita-shelby @cillmequick @emotionalcadaver @toms-cherry-trees @look-at-the-soul @thomashelbyswife @loverhymeswith @shelbydelrey @brummiereader @peakyltd @forgottenpeakywriter @there-goes-thefighter @hoodeddreams13 @peakyswritings @theshelbyslimited @gypsy-girl-08

MASTERLIST

[bellz-twilight]

୨♡୧

Whenever I get sick I get hyperfixated on something really niche

♡past examples♡

-the troubled teen industry

-amish

-camden town London

-boy genius

the past two days its been jeffery epstein and victoria secret💁‍♀️

[creativepawsworld]

Silence - Chapter 49

Pairing = Thomas Shelby x OC

Summary = Ana and Tommy spend some time together checking on business in London. Tommy drops an unexpected bombshell on Ana.

Warnings = Language...Grammar...mentions of brothels... guns...violence.

Word Count = 3210

Note = Hey, so it's been a hot minute. I don't know if people are even reading this anymore and if not I completely understand it has been neglected. I had covid and to be honest, sitting around feeling sorry for myself had me actually writing to stop being bored so, i guess it was a good thing. Anyway, if your still reading enjoy. 💙

I sat in the passenger seat next to Tommy as we drove to London. I had told the doctors at the hospital I would be gone for a few days. I was nervous to do so considering the stage of healing both my parents were at. My mother was at her most vulnerable, scared of most males that entered her room, only mumbling incoherently under her breath until they left. My father was traumatised, although he tried his hardest to hide it when I was around. He still relied on a pad of paper and a pencil to communicate. His tongue was still too painful to form a word despite the physiotherapy.

I couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving them when they needed me most. But I also felt I had neglected my relationship with Tommy long enough. I moved between our apartment and the hospital. Tommy moved to gather information needed to hunt down the Italians who did this to my parents and threatened me inadvertently. Both of us passed like ships in the night.

We had arrived in London before 10 am. Our first stop was at the docks in Camden Town to check on his shipment and Arthur. I watched as men unloaded boxes from the Shelby boats, my shawl wrapped tightly around my shoulders to shield me from the cool morning breeze. Tommy stood talking to a smaller man while watching the shipment arrive. I could tell from Tommy’s reaction that this was a man he trusted without question, he even smiled a few times during their conversation.

I walked slowly towards them, mindful of my step as the men set hard at work unloading the never-ending shipment. “This your lovely future wife to be Tommy?” The smaller man asked as I approached, his eyes dropping to my swollen stomach.

“Anastasia Adler” I offered my hand to him to shake but instead he kissed the back of my hand, removing the peaked cap he wore before putting it back on his head with a confident smile.

“Johnny Dogs.” He introduced himself and I nodded. I had heard the boys and Polly mention his name a few times. It was nice to finally put a face to the name. “When are you tying our Tommy down? Been a while since we had a good wedding mind ye”

“Oh, we haven’t really…discussed that yet,” I answered holding my shawl tightly.

“No?” Johnny asked surprised. “Good-looking lass like that? Tommy, you need to tie her down before another man comes.”

“All in good time Johnny, all in good time.” Tommy slapped a hand over his shoulder, whispering something in his ear before reaching for my hand. Once I had accepted he gently pulled me away from the dock and up the metal staircase where a man he referred to as Billy commented on how safe the shipment would be under his watch.

Leaving the docks we drove into town stopping outside a popular club I heard the boys talking about. The Eden Club. I instantly inhaled, this was that man Sabini’s club. Although I knew Tommy and the Peaky Blinders had taken it over, the memories of that man and the beating he ordered on Tommy came flooding back and it made me nauseous. It all started with Tommy, John and Arthur coming to this club a few months back. To me, this place screamed trouble. I didn’t care how fancy or popular it was. It was cursed.

As we walked through the long elegant hallway of the Eden Club I heard what sounded like skin slapping and grunts coming from somewhere. I walked behind Tommy, the noises becoming louder and louder. Looking around I spotted the source and sickness rose in my throat.

“Morning Arthur.” Tommy strode past his older brother fucking a whore without so much as blinking an eyelid. Arthur had his gun drawn thinking it was an intruder. “We are just passing.” Tommy sighed and continued walking. I held a hand up over my eyes as I hurried my step after Tommy.

I shivered at the image I was sure would haunt me for the next few weeks as Tommy entered a curtained drawn room, this place was darker. Moodier. I started to wonder if the Eden Club was also a brothel of sorts. It had what I felt would be the makings of one. A lot of soft furnishings, and almost pornographic paintings on the wall. Curtained off areas. The dark moody, intimate atmosphere. It would be a high-end brothel if it were one.

Tommy looked over the books as I walked around the room making my assumptions about the place. My thoughts were broken by Arthur coming into the room snapping his fingers and demanding a drink. He was partially dressed this time as he approached me kissing my cheek as a hello before sitting in front of Tommy at the table he had chosen to check the books.

“Whiskey Tommy? Arthur asked buttoning up his shirt as a waiter appeared with a large bottle of brown alcohol and a few glasses.

“No. I have a long drive ahead.” He inhaled on his cigarette his eyes not leaving the books. His lips parted to blow out a puff of smoke as he studied the numbers.

“You off home?” Arthur asked trying to make conversation. He looked over at me for a moment for an answer but Tommy was quick to answer.

“Eventually,” Tommy answered. I walked over to him, my hands resting on his shoulders and I started to rub them. I looked over at Arthur who smiled, his cheeks slightly red from what I had witnessed only ten minutes ago.

“To Birmingham then eh.” Arthur cheered the air. “Good ole Birmingham.”

“What’s this?” Tommy asked, tapping his middle finger on the paper. “Olives?” I sighed softly rubbing Tommy’s shoulders as Arthur explained what an olive was and the stick on which they sat making me chuckle.

I understood it was business, but I couldn’t understand the importance of the olives until I realised that olives were code. The conversation takes a more serious, darker turn. I remained quiet, standing behind Tommy I rubbed his shoulders gently.

“The home secretary is cracking down and I don’t need this fucking everything up. Do you understand?” Tommy asked in a harsh tone, a cold look on his face as he looked up at Arthur.

“I understand.” Arthur nodded, pulling his hair towards the back of his head before pouring another whiskey.

“People down here are scared of you Arthur. But if you don’t straighten up it’ll be John’s turn in London.” Tommy warned a serious threat laying in the undertone of his voice.

“No need. I can handle this.” Arthur shook his head. “I got this yeah.”

“Fucking tidy profit though eh?” Tommy smirked, at the money on the table. Arthur smacked it smiling back.

“It’s happening Tom.” Arthur nodded towards both his brother and myself. I didn’t know what exactly was happening but I knew better than to question it when they discussed business.

“Good. Make sure it does.” Tommy instructed as he stood up, nodding his head for me to follow as he walked towards the exit. “Straighten up soldier.” He yelled.

“See you later Arthur.” I smiled gently touching his shoulder before running off after Tommy. He was like a man on a mission trying to get through his business here in London.

******

We drove through a fancy housing estate in London. It was quiet, posh. I immediately felt out of place. Tommy pulled the car over on the side of the road, we had stopped outside what looked like a gated home. Tommy immediately pulled out his pocket watch, holding it in one hand. With his other hand, he pulled out a map from the side pocket of his door, placing it on his lap.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” I asked confused by his actions. If anyone knew where they were going it was Tommy. I always believed he had a built-in compass inside his body.

“Sir I am afraid you will have to move along. There is no stopping in this area.” An armed soldier came over to the driver's side of the car. Tommy looked up in acknowledgement.

“Apologies. I was just checking the map wasn’t I love?” Tommy looked at me and I smiled nodding. I didn’t know why we had to lie but it became second nature to me when it came to defending Tommy.

“Well move along, this is a no-stopping zone.” The soldier spoke nodding his head, his eyes falling on my pregnant stomach before stepping back allowing Tommy space to move the car.

Tommy handed me the map checking his stopwatch one last time before driving off through the wet streets of London. “23 seconds” Tommy commented turning the corner. I looked at him waiting for an explanation but received silence.

“What was that about?” I asked softly holding the map in my lap. “That is something to do with that file you hid in your desk the other day isn’t it?” I felt myself getting a little annoyed. “Is that why you brought me along? Use me to help cover your tracks?”

“The less you know, the better Stace. You know this.” Tommy spoke in a long drawn voice. “You trust me don’t you?”

“Of course I trust you Tommy but I also worry for you. We have a baby on the way I would hate to have to raise them alone.” I huffed looking out the window. Tommy sighed a troubled look in his eye as we pulled up to Ada’s home.

Over the weeks when Freddie died, I felt myself getting closer to Ada. I reached out to her personally via letters, which she happily returned. I had so much admiration for her. For her bravery in Garrison Lane when her husband and brothers went to war against Billy Kimber. To her strong, powerful way of raising her child after the loss of her husband. She was a pillar of everything I wanted to be.

Tommy and I didn’t speak again as we left the car. Knocking on the door, we stood in silence when a younger gentleman opened it catching us both by surprise. Ada hadn’t mentioned him in her letters to me.

“We’re looking for Ada” Tommy spoke hands deep in his pockets, his infamous stoic look on his face as the almost boy-like man took in his appearance.

“And who are you?” He asked keeping a calm exterior which I found rather impressive considering Tommy’s imposing nature and cold stare. But Tommy didn’t provide an answer, instead, he pushed his way past the young man and into the home.

“It’s her brother. I am so sorry for his behaviour.” I sighed following in after Tommy. The young man closed the door behind us as Tommy removed his hat and coat hanging it up and walked into the living room, hands still deep in his pockets as he greeted his sister.

Hanging up my coat, I caressed my bump following in after him with a small smile as I reached out to hug his sister. The young man comes into the living almost like he is ready to protect Ada from her brother.

“Who’s he?” Tommy asked sparing the young man a glance, standing before Ada with an annoyed expression on his face. Tommy didn’t trust anyone he didn’t vet personally and even then the trust was sparse.

“James rents a room” Ada answered in annoyance her brother would be so forward in front of the young man who hadn’t done a thing.

“You need to rent out rooms?” Tommy asked sarcastically.

“Actually she doesn’t charge rent,” James answered, causing me to furrow my eyebrows looking at Ada with confusion while Tommy stared him down.

“He’s a writer. Means he is skint” Ada chuckled sitting down, patting the seat next to her for me to take. I was glad to accept it stroking my baby bump as I did. Tommy had yet to take his eyes off the poor man when he asked Ada about the whereabouts of her son.

“What do you want Tommy?” I could feel the tension in the air shift at the mention of his nephew Karl. “Oh god before you start seizing him up for a wedding suit. He is not interested in me. Or of girls of any kind.” Ada smirked slightly rubbing my bump.

“Ada” James looked at her worriedly, Tommy’s gaze still upon him.

“What? Tommy and Ana won’t judge you. And he sure as hell won't go to the police” She sniggered and for the first time Tommy broke eye contact with him, choosing to look at something on the floor as he reflected on his sister's words.

“Look, I’ll go and get dressed” James didn’t make eye contact. With my emotions all over the place, I felt bad for him. He was outed in front of strangers which would have been hard for him I had no doubt.

“James.” Tommy sighed stepping towards him. “I’m Thomas. Nice to meet ya.” He extended a hand for him to shake which made me smile. James looked down at his hand, over to Ada then back to Tommy’s hand as he accepted the handshake. “And that’s Anastasia.”

“Nice to meet you” James nodded at me as I waved to him.

“Can I have a moment with my sister please?” Tommy asked calmly.

“Yes of course” James smiled taking in Tommy’s appearance. I could sense that he appreciated Tommy for showing him respect. The action alone had me biting my lip as I sized up Tommy from my position on the sofa, my sex drive was crazy, making itself known at the worst times.

Once James left, Tommy sat on a small armchair in front of us, clearing his throat as he looked around the room. He folded his hands on his stomach inhaling deeply as he looked at Ada.

So, does the lodger know your name?” Tommy asked causing me to roll my eyes. Here we go I thought to myself as I stroked my stomach.

“Yeah. Throne. You'd think I’d tell anybody anything else? “Ada answered “You Brummie boys are all over the papers. Just one last push eh? Then you’ll go legit. Just one more obstacle to get around? Then it’ll all be straight?” She asked.

“Actually yes,” Tommy answered in a bored tone making Ada laugh.

“Personally I find it quite amusing. Men like you are becoming very fashionable around here. No society party in London is complete without a gangster the girls go giddy for. No offence Ana.” Ada took a dig at her brother but it felt like my offence. Tommy looked down at his lap, thinking over his words which worried me. Something was bothering him. “Anyway, what is it that you want?”

“I’m about to have a child Ada. So I have set up a trust fund the beneficiaries will be my baby obviously but I want to ensure that Karl and John’s kids are looked after as well. But in order for Karl to benefit I need your signature.” Tommy spoke solemnly pulling paper from the inside of his jacket. I was speechless as I held my stomach looking at my future husband. What was he talking about? He was scaring me.

“I’ve set up an account where the money will be transferred in the event of my death” Tommy finished putting the paper on the table, then sitting back as if he hadn’t just dropped that bombshell. I felt sick.

Ada leaned forward taking the paper as I stared at Tommy who wouldn’t look at me in this moment.

“Are you sick?” Ada asked.

“I’m just doing what any ordinary man would. Putting my affairs in order.” Tommy answered so casually.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped feeling angry that he didn’t talk to me about this before coming to Ada. I leaned forward in my seat glaring at Tommy as he looked over at me. “You're not going anywhere, Tommy.”

Tommy looked down at his lap again, a troubled look on his face even though he tried to hide it.

“Do you hear me? You’re not going anywhere” I growled standing up, feeling the need to pace. My hands were shaking at the thought of losing him, tears settled in my eyes as I walked the floor. “I’m not raising this baby alone. I’m not.” I started to panic.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Ada tried to soothe me walking alongside me as tried to get me to recollect my breathing.

“Why would he say that? Why would you do this?” I asked in a panic, tears falling down my face. Tommy was never like this. What had changed over the last few weeks that had him thinking he was going to die?

“Stace, it’s only a precaution. I wanted to make sure you and the next generation of Shelby’s are looked after…” Tommy started to speak.

“This is all to do with that fucking file, isn’t it? What is going on Tommy?” I snapped. Ada’s eyes widened at the sound of me cursing. It was a rarity for me but I felt like this situation warranted it.

Tommy shook his head standing to his feet once more. He came to stand in front of me cupping my face into his hands as he rubbed the tears from my face. He slowly leaned forward kissing the tip of my nose.

“It’s a precaution. I will come back to you.” He promised looking deep into my eyes. His deep blues swirled with so many emotions it was hard to pinpoint just one. “We will raise this baby together.” He lets go of my face to hold my swollen stomach.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this? We did I have to find out like this?” I asked tears continuing to fall from my eyes.

“I thought having our Ada’s support would help you understand better” He spoke calmly. “I wanted to show you that even without a husband you will be fine, looked after just like Ada.”

“We are going to marry Tommy you can’t…you can’t do things like this and expect me to react normally”

“It's just a precaution, Stace. Just a precaution.” Tommy repeated holding me close to his body.

******

That evening when we returned to Birmingham we stopped at the betting shop. Tommy went straight to Polly’s office to look at the financial gain from the day whereas I went straight to John who was looking at a book in the shared office.

“Alright Ana, how was London?” He asked offering me the cheeky smile he had.

“John I want you to do me a favour and I don’t want you to tell Tommy about it. Not yet.” I asked quietly checking over my shoulder for Tommy. “What is it?” John asked curiously. I exhaled loudly as I stroked my baby bump, thinking of the words I wanted to say. I needed to do this to protect my baby, to protect Tommy.

“I need you to teach me how to shoot properly.”

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