#they both have colony stands 💗

[chloesimaginationthings]

Smooth Pistols

[solomons-finest-rum]

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 2

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to everyone for words of encouragement and for waiting for the update 💗💗💗💗💗 Goodness, that was one hefty break. I hope the next part won't take me as much, but I can't exactly promise it will be fast, sorry about that. I think this is a part 2 out of 3 and then I'll do an epilogue, but that is still more of a draft than a plan.

WORD COUNT — 2,708

Masterlist

Tommy sat beside Polly in utter silence, watching the cigarette slowly burn between her fingers to the point where the heat nearly touched the skin. Tommy observed it with morbid fascination because it was something other to do than to stay with his own thoughts. And he would not dare to speak to Polly first—not after the news he had brought her this evening.

The clock chiming in the hall let them know it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, but still neither of them moved. The fire went out long ago and Tommy wondered in his solemn silence if Polly would accept a blanket.

“How could you tell me she was dead?” Polly suddenly asked the question Tommy had been dreading for the past hour and then she flicked the cigarette butt straight on the carpet. 

Tommy dared to look her in the eye then and immediately regretted that decision when he was met with nothing but hurt and steel-like anger.

“They told me she was, Pol. I went to the parish myself, saw the documents myself,” Tommy replied calmly.

That signature state of calm didn’t come to him as quickly as it used to, he noticed. These days it required more and more effort; or perhaps the things he chose to do got worse with time.

“Fucking nuns,” Polly hissed and shook her head. “You should have pressed them harder! Should’ve made them talk!”

“Then what, hm? Threaten them? Put a gun to their head, eh? There was nothing else they would have told me, Pol, they didn’t know.”

“I don’t care what! We shouldn’t have just abandoned her like that. Now look what happened, she’s a hostage with another fucking monster, just ready to put his paws on her whenever he pleases!” Polly stood up abruptly and Tommy wondered for a moment if perhaps he shouldn’t slip some laudanum in her drink. She looked frenzied, her hair in disarray and eyes bloodshot. The way Tommy saw it, she was half-ready to walk to Margate on foot and kill Alfie herself.

“Polly,” Tommy moved to stand in front of her just in case she had any ideas. He put both hands on her shoulders to reassure her. “Polly, look at me. Alfie Solomons, yeah? Alfie Solomons is just about the last man you’d find putting his hands on anybody that didn’t ask for it, all right? I swear this much.”

“Jesus, I don’t care what you swear anymore, Tommy!” Polly scoffed and tore herself away. “The man is insane, you said so yourself—many times in fact! We all remember what he did to Arthur! Or have you forgotten?!”

“No,” Tommy replied stiffly. “Perhaps he’s insane, but he’s not cruel to women, Polly, never has been. He doesn’t have the reputation.”

“Well, neither do you, that doesn’t mean one wife’s not buried, the other’s escaped!”

Though Tommy would never admit it, that hurt immensely. That was the problem with people who loved him, he supposed. They knew exactly where to hit to draw the most blood. He willed his face to return to the stony mask it was before.

“But your daughter is not buried and she isn’t gone,” he said. “She’s alive, Pol, I saw her with my own two eyes. She’s alive and we can get her back.”

“Well, that’s not exactly possible now, is it?” she scoffed and turned her gaze back to the fireplace as if some ghostly apparition beckoned her to it. “You said she didn’t know you, I bet that fucking animal has her caged.”

“That’s not true. I saw her, Pol, she looked well.” Tommy felt like stressing that might help. “She has your eyes and your wit and I swear she cooks somethin’ awful, but she’s no prisoner. Alfie is…” He hesitated then, because it wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought to consider. “She’s got him wrapped around her little finger, Pol. You can’t say no to her, eh? Just like I can’t exactly argue with you neither.”

That brought Polly back, even if just to glare at her nephew with fury.

“Pol, I swore to you once I’d bring your children home and I haven’t changed my mind.” Tommy took her hand in his and to his relief this time Polly didn’t pull away. 

“I don’t think Alfie harmed her,” he insisted. “I don’t think she’d let him. Polly, she looked tough. Hardened by life. She’s a woman grown, Pol, and I know she can take care of herself. You said so yourself, eh? It’s grandfather’s gift, reading people. Well, I read her tonight and I know Alfie, too. Something happened to her, that much’s clear, but there’s nothin’ evil happenin’ to her in that house.”

That seemed to satisfy his aunt because she finally took a deep breath that actually made Tommy feel like he could breath himself.

“Why would he tell you to lie to me, Tommy?”

“How do you mean?”

“Why would he think you wouldn’t tell me? That you’d play his game.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “But I know what he wants in return and to be honest his plan wasn’t as delirious as I’d take him for.”

“I don’t care what you discussed with that man, that’s of little consequence,” Polly scoffed. “We are going to get her and we are going to get rid of him once and for all, Thomas, because no one fucks with the Peaky fuckin’ Blinders and no one fucks with the family! Do you hear me?!”

“I hear you.”

“Good. Now get up!”

“So we’re goin’ today?”

“Today!”

Tommy nodded and gently navigated her back into the armchair. He rang the bell for the maid. In the agitated state Polly’s house was currently in, Tommy was sure the servants weren’t really sleeping.

“And get Michael,” she ordered. “I don’t care what that peroxide tramp says about it, he’s coming with us.”

Alfie stood on the porch and smoked his pipe. He let you squeeze his arm in anger while trying to sneak concerned glances in your general direction. Tired of being treated like a spooked horse, you glared at him until he stopped with all the concern. You were tougher than you looked and you would very much appreciate it if Alfie finally admitted it.

“You alright?” Alfie asked you for what must have been the twentieth time and you nodded stiffly instead of a reply.

“Darlin’, I mean it, all right, ‘cause if you ain’t tryin’ to make me bloody worried then you’re doin’ a splendid job regardless, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Right, that’s just fuckin’ uncalled for, that…”

“No. Someone’s coming.”

You pointed then to the faint shapes on the horizon, which, judging by the noise, must have been the Shelby Bentleys.

“Get the binoculars, Alfie.” 

“I’ll get the fuckin’ shotgun is what I’ll get.”

“Alfie.”

“I’ll do as I damn well please in my own house, woman!”

“So your brilliant means of operation is just bullets, is that it? What the hell did you expect, that Tommy would just listen to you?”

There was a clear measure of challenge in your words and all you two did then was just size each other up, trying to see who would call the bluff first. Finally, your husband grumbled his best catalogue of swear words and brought you the binoculars you asked for. 

“It’s the Shelbys,” you confirmed.

“Like clockwork, that lot,” Alfie scoffed. “You tell them one thing, they go the opposite fuckin’ direction.”

“Some clock that’d be,” you chuckled. “We knew they’d come. That’s why we’re here.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

The pipe now abandoned, Alfie checked the barrel of his favourite handgun and reassured himself with the number. The only problem was the Shelby threat looming on the horizon and what looked like three cars, no doubt packed to the brim with Tommy’s henchmen.

“And you’re certain he will help us?” you asked.

“‘Course. Like I said before, right, Tommy’s nothin’ if not reliable.”

“That’s quite generous coming from you.”

“Just ‘cause he shot me doesn’t mean we ain’t kin now.”

“I am many things, dearest, but a Shelby isn’t one of them.”

“Ah, well, too bad. And too late to call the cavalry off, I reckon. If ya changed your mind…”

“That’s not what I meant.” It was your time to scoff. “These people are not my family. You are.”

On a rare occasion when Alfie Solomons found himself something close to emotional, three black Bentleys finally arrived at the quaint Margate cottage. You instinctively grabbed your husband’s arm again. He didn’t flinch, not even when you dug your nails into the skin, hard enough to draw blood.

“Right, gentlemen! And lady. What a lovely surprise, innit.” Alfie beckoned with his other hand, waving the gun about and leaving very little doubt as to the quickness of change in his intentions were the Shelbys not to play along. “Let me simply say: shalom… All right. Welcome. Yeah, that is the message for today, or so one might hope.”

What would undoubtedly be another inspired monologue had to wait, however. As soon as Tommy escorted Polly out of the car and her eyes met her daughter’s, Polly’s knees gave out. Tommy and Arthur caught her just in time and held her up on both sides.

“Anna!” Polly cried. “Oh dear God, it’s really you! Anna!”

You stood still like a statue, at which point even your husband turned to look at you with a mix of concern and fascination. You let go of his arm and focused on Tommy.

“Mr. Shelby. You brought an army this time. Am I to expect a shootout?”

As cold and unmoved as Tommy tried to be, it proved to be hard with a sobbing woman on his arm.

“Or am I to understand you’re here to kidnap me?” you pressed. “Please don’t say my chicken was that spectacular, I won’t believe it.”

“Anna.” Polly squeezed Tommy’s arm and took a step forward. Alfie uncocked his gun. You sighed and wished he hadn’t, since the entire Shelby ensemble now followed with the same.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, you fools! Put the bloody guns down!” Polly seethed and marched towards the house with a newfound purpose in her step. “Anna. Come down from there. You’re coming home with us.”

You looked at the woman you knew was your mother, though now only by name. Your heart didn’t know her and your head was too preoccupied to care.

“That might pose an issue,” you answered. “Because I am home.”

The next person that got out of the car, however, seemed to finally make you shake off your stony demeanour. You couldn’t quite help it, because his face was the first you could actually say was known to you.

“Michael!” you whispered and then rushed down from the porch before anyone could stop you. “Oh dear God, you’re alive!”

You fell into your brother’s steady embrace and though the force of it nearly made him stumble, he held you firmly and wouldn’t let go—not even if the devil himself tried to claim you both again. 

The tearful reunion was so quiet that no one apart from you and Michael could know what words were exchanged. While the Shelbys weren’t exactly the type to interrupt, you could tell that Alfie was out of patience. 

“Are we just about finished, then?” he inquired. “Forgive the interruption, yeah, but it’s gettin’ li’l too chilly for my taste.”

Polly took that opportunity to point her gun directly at Alfie’s head.

“Now then, madam,” Alfie chuckled and stood his ground, though he didn’t raise the gun he was holding. “I’d only ask ya to aim better than your nephew, all right, ‘cause I can’t exactly take no more of this.” He pointed to the injured side of his face. “Once was enough, yeah, so if you’re certain that’s what ya wanna do, I won’t stop ya.”

“Shut your mouth,” Polly hissed. “You shut your mouth!”

“Polly.” Tommy took a step towards them. His voice was full of warning and he ordered his men to stand down with a single wave of his hand. “Polly, think about what we’re doin’ here, all right? We came to get your daughter,” he turned to point at you, who now looked toward her husband with a horrified expression. “She’s safe now, Polly, we can take her home. There’s no need for violence, Pol, not today.”

“Like hell you will!” you protested. “Can you stop talking about me like I’m not even here?! No one’s taking me anywhere.”

“Now then, Tommy,” Alfie sighed. “There I was, mate, thinkin’ we had an understandin’, you an’ I. After all these years of friendship, right, you come to my house, guns blazin’, and with your lovely aunt no less, all in pursuit of justice I can’t exactly give, mate, ‘cause I ain’t the one who took Anna away in the first place. So…”

To everyone’s surprise Alfie turned his back to Polly and opened the front door as casually as one might when having a gun pointed at you turns into something of a daily occurrence. 

“Might I offer you a drink then, uh, Polly, is it? Right, lemme just say that, yeah, I ain’t exactly one for close family ties, you see, that’s just not somethin’ I was brought up with…”

Alfie’s voice disappeared somewhat as he walked further into the house, completely ignoring the chaos on the porch. You tried to rush back towards the house and stomped on Michael’s foot with all your might when he wouldn’t let you go. Michael roared with pain and you took your chance to run, but this time it was Arthur who stopped you and who, all things considered, presented a much sturdier guard than your brother.

“You let me through,” you hissed. 

“Nah, I don’t think so, luv. You’re comin’ with us.”

“Like hell I am!”

Polly, still stunned, turned towards her children and lowered her gun, creating an opportunity for Tommy to catch up with her and take it out of her hands.

“Not today,” he repeated softly. “There’ll be time for vengeance and there’ll be time for justice. But not here, Pol, not now. Arthur, let Anna pass.”

Polly shook her head and spat on the bluish tiles of the porch, thoroughly worn out and bleached by the seaside air. Only then did she notice the curious mosaic right before the front door and the gentle arch forming the words “lethe”. 

“I’m not leaving without her, Tommy,” she warned.

“I know you’re not.”

Out of options and out of bullets, Polly crossed the threshold and she hoped the choice would truly erase the anguish from her memory—if only for a moment.

Alfie’s gambit must have been exactly that from the start, Tommy mused, because as soon as the rest of the Shelby clan entered the house, they were welcomed by the maid with a tea tray. Alfie, now comfortable in his usual armchair, gestured for his guests to sit. 

Judging by his calm and calculated demeanour, Tommy doubted him and his family had been so unexpected. In fact, he just about acknowledged he had let himself be manipulated not once but twice in what was perhaps the strangest forty-eight hours in a long time.

“Right, now, we don’t know each other well so I don’t know exactly what everyone drinks…” Alfie waved at the maid dismissively and she started to serve the tea as if it was any other ordinary occasion. “Feel free to peruse the bar if you so prefer, Tommy, right, but not you.” Alfie settled his only seeing eye on Arthur, though the elder Shelby brother didn’t seem as prone to anger as Alfie remembered. That was almost disappointing. 

You entered the house last, holding your brother’s hand. Michael smiled down at you fondly as if you hadn’t just caused him severe bodily harm. Tommy and Alfie both noted the scene, though neither exactly for the same reasons. Alfie looked just about done tolerating all that whispering between you and your brother and it seemed so was Tommy.

Though neither, exactly, for the same reasons.

“Right then,” Alfie announced. “Should we discuss the terms?”

[kimberly-dinglasa]

Shessh

S.H.E.S.S.H stands for:

S - Sightseeing H - Hospitality E - Exploration S - Souvenirs S - Safety H - Heritage

"Welcome to the S.H.E.S.S.H Travel Blog! Here, I invite you to embark on a journey of discovery, exploration, and adventure across the globe. At S.H.E.S.S.H, I was passionate about all things tourism, from the thrill of sightseeing to the warmth of hospitality. Join us as we delve into the vibrant tapestry of travel experiences, offering insights, tips, and inspiration for your next unforgettable journey. Whether you're a seasoned traveler or planning your very first trip, my blog is your go-to resource for uncovering hidden gems, embracing cultural heritage, and ensuring a safe and enjoyable travel experience. Let's embark on this exciting voyage together!"

I will introduce to you the places that I can share my unforgettable trip on Cebu South🤗

Please read every description of the photo below😊

Carcar City💗

Carcar City, located in the southern part of the province of Cebu, is known as the Heritage Town of Cebu. It is best known for its buildings' architecture as the city maintains the historical and colonial structures that were built during the Spanish and American colonial periods of the Philippines

Barili, Cebu❤️

What a nice view! When I look at this view I felt refresh at my mind! It is one of the biggest agricultural towns in the province producing important crops such as rice, corn, bananas, vegetables and coconuts.

St. Archangel Church in Samboan, Cebu

San Miguel Arcangel Church is a Roman Catholic church located in Samboan, a southwestern town in the province of Cebu, Philippines.

Balay'g Sawa Falls in Samboan, Cebu🤩

Balaygsawa Falls is a series of cascades, tumbling down from the top level. There’s a particularly deep hole above the main pool that’s a great lit

Lantaw de Samboan😍

This is also famous in Samboan when it comes sightseeing. Only 50 pesos entrance fee then you can enjoy the view, farm, and also the foods. Lantaw De Samboan is also strategically located, strategic for sunsets that is! The viewing area has a direct – clear, straight, unobstructed – line of sight of the setting sun, really only ever getting blocked by clouds.

View outside at My lola's house in Samboan✨

Fruits and vegetables from Farm of Samboan🤤

When I arrived at my location my mama prepared for this because this is what I looking for.

One of my uncle's art piece. He is locally famous in cebu. His name is John Dinglasa but I also Jess Dinglasa. Both of them has a lots of art work that is already been sold. He always at Robinson Galleria and displayed their works. Sometimes they have a to travel for their works.🤩

This is only places and experinced that I can share to you guys🤗 Maybe next time I can post a lot of my experiences when it comes trips and joirney. This places can help in the tourism industry to attract tourist. There is also a lot of tourist there experience the same that I've explore. If you have a time please visit of that places, you will not regret it! Thank you!❤️

[solomons-finest-rum]

Hello to one of my favourite Alfie fic writers! Since you're taking requests, I'd like to make one as well.

I don't know how it works but how about a scenario/imagine where Tommy gets in some kind of trouble (as always) and Alfie suggests that his lovely gangster wife could help and goes to introduce them but as it turns out it's none other than the Shelby's sister/cousin/relative/friend/or maybe even an ex? (Your call one this one) who they thought was dead or something?

Idk if it's even worth your time and effort but I just wanted to make a request ;) No pressure, of course!

Love you and your writing a lot!

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 1

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you to @zablife for being the most gracious beta!💗💗💗💗💗 and thank you Anon for this request, because actually it inspired a full-blown multi-chapter idea! So this is set around... Season 5 I suppose? But I'm going to ignore everything in it and Season 6 too. Let's pretend none of it happened and just focus on the fun part! That is driving Tommy insane and making Alfie say outrageous lines.

WORD COUNT — 2,286

Masterlist

In retrospect, Tommy Shelby felt he should have known better. He should have fucking known that the moment, the moment, he came to Margate to sort the bloody situation out, exactly two things would happen.

One, he would have to sit and listen with a straight face to Alfie’s inspired monologue, the subject of which had swerved from elephants to bank robbery in about two and a half minutes, and then managed to touch upon just about everything else under the sun.

Tommy remained quite sure that the sense of Alfie’s rambling had been long lost to history and the point of it all was just to talk him to death, really. Put him out of his misery with nonsense alone.

“Now then, Tommy, as I said, right, I ain’t the vindictive type, I really ain’t, so I am gonna help ya out just this once, right, outta the goodness of my own heart.”

Tommy managed not to roll his eyes. Barely.

“‘Cause I am a changed man these days, Tommy, an’ it can be that the old man that I am, I’m goin’ soft on ya, right, an’ so tradition dictates, mate, to ask for more than ten thousand for my troubles.”

Tommy raised a brow.

“But as things currently stand with the medical bills, on the account of bein’ shot in the face by some cunt, right… Fifteen would sound proper fair, mate.”

Thank fuck for small mercies, Tommy thought, then lit another cigarette and promptly got up to leave. Alfie apparently managed to settle both sides of the conversation, negotiations included, and their American problem could very well sort itself out all on his own—thus proving to Tommy once more that the only thing he could really count on in this world had always been lunatics.

“Right, the fuck you’re doin’ now, sit down!”

Tommy frowned and remained standing, cigarette in the corner of his mouth and sheer outrage emanating from his entire person. The question of “what in fuck’s name do you want now, you crazy bastard?” overtook his face.

“Right, I need to make a bloody phone call,” Alfie said then, which explained exactly nothing.

Yes, that was the second thing Tommy had been so sure would happen. Alfie would first go on a tangent, then formulate a plan that involved three separate layers of deception, a bribe, and a crate of dynamite (probably).

Then Tommy would get caught in the middle as bloody always and Polly would have his head for going along with Alfie’s plan in the first place.

What he didn’t expect was for Alfie to change his tone of voice completely as soon as the person picked up on the other end:

“Yeah, darlin’, it’s me. Come to the house, alright? Right, ‘cause I need ya here for somethin’. No, not like the— Bloody hell, woman, just don’t fuckin’ argue with me for once, alright?”

Sometimes a rare occasion would present itself for Tommy Shelby to become fucking speechless. Truth be told, he remained rather surprised that two such occasions had also involved Alfie Solomons, undoubtedly purely for the Devil’s bloody amusement.

“Who was that then, Alfie?”

“None of ya fuckin’ business.”

Tommy had a sneaky feeling there wasn’t a clever enough question in existence that could have pushed Alfie to say anything more. He looked smug as hell for having pulled that stunt off so Tommy was willing to see it through.

For old time’s sake.

The sun was setting and they had another drink, then Tommy let Alfie go on another tangent about… Tea import. Perhaps. Who knew, he wasn’t really listening.

On drink three Tommy was alerted by a car pulling up to the house, followed by a door slam and a rhythmic clacking of high heels on the porch. Tommy looked to Alfie, but the man remained infuriatingly calm.

Just as Tommy was about to reach for his gun, the door to Alfie’s study opened unceremoniously and a scent of expensive perfume wafted across the room. Tommy turned around and tried his best to keep up the indifferent facade, but failed miserably. Nothing could have prepared him for you walking through that door, with a giant bodyguard no less, following you like a second shadow.

“Alright there, Billy?” Alfie greeted the bodyguard casually and the man grunted in response. “Right then, might ya wait in the car for us, mate? This whole bloody business will take a minute.”

Tommy then watched as Alfie approached you and planted an affectionate kiss to your cheek, at which point Tommy stood up abruptly.

For a moment he just stood there and stared; a state he didn’t find himself in too often these days. 

“Darling, are we having guests?” you asked Alfie in a tone so familiar to Tommy; so like your mother. Pleasant, on the verge of sarcastic. 

By God, either that Camden bastard was a magician or you had a twin sister that Polly never mentioned. Because it wasn’t possible… It couldn’t be you. Not according to the file he stole from the parish. By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies. 

“Right then, Tommy, might I present my lovely wife,” Alfie said. “Sweetie, this here is Tommy Shelby, right, all the way from the ungodly place they call Birmingham—”

“Tommy Shelby?” you interrupted and looked at Tommy with a smile so like Polly’s that Tommy nearly lost his composure again. “My, my… And there you went and promised you were done with the life, Alfie.”

“Right, an’ how could that—”

“Anna,” Tommy interrupted what he was sure was a budding monologue from Alfie. 

“Yes?” you asked. “You know my name?”

“I… Know your mother.”

“Know?” There it was again. That curious smirk of yours that could really mean anything. Tommy found it harder and harder to keep up the charade.

“But that’s not possible, Mr. Shelby.”

“What’s not possible?”

Your tone remained polite, but your dark eyes said it all. The expression of quiet resolve Tommy thought only one person capable of delivering with such resentment.

“I’m an orphan, Mr. Shelby.”

Tommy said nothing to that, because what in hell could he even say? All of a sudden the American issue faded into nothingness, replaced solely by the phantom standing before him.

“So you did not lie, I see,” you turned to your husband with a quizzical expression, seeing as Tommy went quiet again. “He really is as strange as the papers make him. No matter, though, Mr. Shelby, I hope you like chicken? My husband insists I’m a terrible cook, but you must stay for dinner.”

Tommy nodded mechanically and put out his cigarette just to busy his hands with something. When he looked at Alfie, though, Tommy noticed how the man’s mouth twitched, clearly indicating the scheme was playing exactly how he wanted it to. Mad bastard, Tommy thought. There was no saying if he was being played or tricked or helped. Probably all at once, but solely for Alfie’s benefit of course.

“Right, curious as I am, luv, what delectable fuckin’ option you maimed and butchered for dinner, Tommy isn’t stayin’—” Alfie then stopped himself when two sets of identical Shelby scowls got directed his way.

Tommy did stay for dinner and made sure to clean his plate, too. He didn’t mind the food at all; it reminded him of Polly’s simple cooking back in the day when she would take care of Tommy and his siblings in Small Heath.

The more he listened to you talk and bicker with Alfie, the more of your mother he saw in you and the angrier he got at seeing you here of all places, as Alfie’s wife, unable to speak to you in plain terms. Tommy wasn’t exactly sure which made him angrier, though—the fact that you were Alfie’s wife or the fact that the sly bastard had kept you from your true family for who knows how many years. How did he even find you?

All the questions he had were still swirling around in Tommy’s head and he wasn’t particularly paying attention to anything else, besides staring daggers at Alfie. He was hoping there would be a moment to talk to you alone, but of course your husband would never allow it. He watched Tommy like a hawk the entire evening, sometimes with just a hint of a smile to suggest he was still three steps ahead of everyone else.

“See you never got accustomed to that fancy cookin’ they’re offerin’ ya at the mansion these days, Tommy,” Alfie said, undoubtedly truly enjoying the charade. “Tommy’s an MP, darlin’, right about two steps from gettin’ a knighthood I reckon. Yeah, a real prince he is.”

The way Alfie said the word was so clearly a jab at Tommy’s ancestry that he didn’t even flinch. What he was curious about was your reaction, but you remained perfectly pleasant: 

“Don’t tease, love, we haven’t had guests in ages and I’m not letting you drive this one away.”

When the maid took away the plates, you lit a cigarette in a swift overdone gesture and Tommy was once more taken aback with your resemblance to Polly. 

“Well, I’ll leave ya both to it,” you announced as you got up. “It was a pleasure, Mr. Shelby.” You extended your hand and Tommy shook it. “I know you tried your best with the chicken and I appreciate it,” you paused and tilted your head to the side as if sizing Tommy up.

“I rarely trust your husband’s judgement,” he replied.

The way you smiled reminded Tommy of a cat that got into the pantry. He decided not to think about it too much.

“I see. Goodnight then, Mr. Shelby.”

As soon as Tommy heard you got upstairs, he turned to Alfie who, unsurprisingly, already had a gun pointed at him. It was a casual way of it that was the most infuriating—Alfie’s hand was more so resting on the table and the gun just happened to be there, pointing at Tommy. 

“Now then, Tommy, let’s be reasonable about this, mate.”

Tommy clenched his jaw and remained silent, but his murderous glare said it all.

“There are four people at the house, right, includin’ you, me, my wife, then the maid… Then there’s Billy outside, right, who’s gonna be rightly worried once he doesn’t get my dismissal for the night. So I want ya to be real cold an’ calculated about it, Tommy, just like I know ya can be, ‘cause if ya decide to off me for no reason now…”

“No reason.”

“Right.”

“You’re old enough to be her father.”

“Yeah an’ fortunately I’m not, ‘cause that’d be right fuckin’ awkward at the temple, mate.”

“Temple?”

“What’d ya think, Tommy, that I smacked her over the head and dragged her into my cave?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

“Right, we’ll have to show ya the pictures then, she looked stunnin’.” Alfie leaned back in his chair. “Tell ya what, mate, why don’t ya come by for tea one day?”

“Tea.”

“Yeah. We have it, Tommy, we’re not animals.”

Tommy said nothing to that. He was still reviewing his options, but as he wasn’t a fan of spontaneous action, the patient approach seemed appropriate. The offer, though, just like everything else about the situation, was fucking infuriating.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Fuck you, Alfie.”

That finally made Alfie smile and for some reason he lowered the gun.

“Right, so seein’ as we’re family, Tommy, and what a happy coincidence this is, I must say, I feel like we should talk fuckin’ proper. None of that shit.” Alfie then gestured between them as if he hadn’t been responsible for “that shit” in the first place.

“We’ve been talking, Alfie,” Tommy deadpanned.

“Yeah, but then there’s still somethin’ ya haven’t told me about your American troubles, isn’t there, mate, so I’m expectin’ you’ll be more honest with me in the future. Now that I’ve brought the right arguments to the table…”

The hint of a threat in that statement almost made Tommy wish he still had his razor cap around.

“She’s Polly’s only daughter, Alfie.”

“Right, I’m aware of that.”

Tommy nodded, feigning understanding between them. As always, handling Alfie very much resembled handling a live grenade without a pin.

“This can’t be the way to end things.”

“Who’s endin’ things, Tommy?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, an’ I’m going to let this one slide, Tommy, ‘cause you just got a lot to process, mate, so I’m prepared to be understandin’.”

Tommy shook his head and reached into his jacket pocket, at which Alfie uncocked the gun. Tommy slowly pulled out his cigarette box, but Alfie never even flinched. It was gruesomely reassuring to still have been right, even in the position that Tommy currently found himself in. 

Alfie Solomons would always remain Alfie Solomons, even with the whole song and a dance about getting old and senile. He was still the same mad bastard Tommy came to know all those years ago, and as things stood, Tommy found himself wondering if this time he shouldn’t try poison instead of a bullet.

“Tommy,” Alfie sighed, “with three good eyes workin’ between us, mate, I really would greatly mind if I somehow acquired a fuckin’ tumour in my lungs, too.”

Tommy said nothing and he knew Alfie hated it.

“Which means put that shit out, mate, and listen to what I’m about to say, ‘cause I got a feeling you’ll really wanna hear it.”

[solomons-finest-rum]

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 3

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This time it took me much faster to write, mostly thanks to your wonderful replies and reblogs! 💗💗💗💗💗

WORD COUNT — 2,103

Masterlist

“So this is the man you have chosen for yourself?” Polly asked you when she followed you out to the porch for the much-deserved cigarette break.

The rest of the Shelby clan, as you have started to call them in your head, were left alone with Alfie, because you couldn’t take any more of their so-called negotiations. Somehow you weren’t exactly sure which party you felt sorrier for.

So you tried to escape, but Polly, ever the careful strategist, wouldn’t leave you alone. You paid it no mind, or so you wanted to pretend.

“Alfie?” You lit a match for her, which she gladly accepted. “He’s my husband.”

“Of your own free volition, no less.”

“Don’t be glib.”

Even though, curiouser and curiouser, you noticed you and Polly smoked the same brand of cigarettes, neither of you said anything to acknowledge the fact.

“Anna…”

“Polly.”

“All I want…”

“Yes?”

“All I want is to know you’re happy.”

“I am happy.” You paused. “Is Michael?”

You knew that wasn’t what the discussion was about, nor really the question that the Shelby matriarch wanted to answer. But you decided not to give her too much leeway. If she would ask you things in a more straightforward manner, you would perhaps answer, but you weren’t in the habit of being especially accommodating.

“He’s not who you think him to be, you know. Alfie.” You offered this much, because whether you wanted to admit it or not, Polly’s saddened expression did tug on your heartstrings—even if just a little.

“Oh, I think we both know exactly who he is, dear.”

You smirked.

“Enlighten me, please.”

Polly frowned and after some initial hesitation related for you pretty much the essence of the past few years and her family’s dealings with one Alfie Solomons. Most of it you knew, some of it was news to you, but nothing exactly changed your mind about the man.

What Polly or the rest of the Shelbys didn’t know was that the man behind the violent and unpredictable mask wasn’t really who you married or woke up next to every single day. But you didn’t feel like enlightening them just yet. The past you and Alfie shared meant so much more than territorial pissings.

“I know his reputation, Polly, but that doesn’t change the fact I owe him my life,” you informed her. “And Tommy tried to take his.”

This, as expected, wasn’t the reaction Polly wanted to hear.

“What happened to you?” she whispered incredulously, her dark eyes full of questions.

“A lot of bad things happened to me. Things I don’t necessarily want to relive.”

Polly’s grip on the porch railing got a little tighter.

“None of it was your fault,” you offered her that small consolation, regardless whether you had any real evidence for it. You were now a part of Alfie’s world, but you weren’t as ruthless. Never could.

Polly looked at you with hope so evident in her face that you couldn’t really find any other words than those you knew to be true: the rest of your story.

“Mind you, I don’t remember much and I’m sorry to say I don’t remember you at all, Polly. Your voice is familiar to me, but when I try to look further back it’s like looking at something through a dusty glass. I mostly remember Michael and sometimes I even get bits and pieces of how he used to play with me. Well, how he used to drag me around in a shoebox on a string.”

Polly laughed at that in surprise.

“I’m sure it was John who gave him that bright idea,” she said quietly, as if worried that any audible reaction would cause you to stop talking.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“When they took you away, I… It felt like…”

You waited patiently for Polly to gather her bearings, but what she said next shocked you:

“I think I missed you both so much that sometimes I simply wanted to die.”

It was hard to think of anything constructive to reply to that and so you hesitated to speak again. Polly lit another cigarette.

“Did they ship you off to the colonies?” she asked, evidently having deduced your lack of warmth for something it wasn’t.

The full truth was so much more pathetic, you thought. You weren’t good at these sorts of things; nobody in your life ever made you participate in heartfelt conversations. You didn’t know what to say to her about that previous confession and so you just answered the question:

“That was the plan. I probably would have died on the way there and almost dying seemed preferential at the time… Before they packed us up like slaves, they kept us in these big warehouses near the docks. All of us: convicted women, old, young, insane, some even children. Some just orphans and some real murderers. It was the most horrified I have ever been. You couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t breathe without someone trying to harm you one way or another. They fed us rotten food, wouldn’t let us clean ourselves, the bed bugs made the guards shave our heads… and then the fever broke out. Some of us were moved to a makeshift infirmary, where they also moved me when I fell ill. But that fever became my salvation. I wasn’t as well guarded there and one night when I regained consciousness I escaped.”

“What?” Polly gasped. “But how… Why did they say you died in Australia?”

“A fevered girl manages to escape His Majesty’s chamber of torture in her flea-riddled nightgown and lives to tell the tale.” You smirked. “Wouldn’t that make an uncomfortable headline?”

Polly thought about it for a second, but then confirmed with a nod that she agreed with your point.

“And Solomons, then?”

“I stole from him,” you laughed. “Don’t judge, I know the bakery is simply a front, but the bread they get is as good as any. And if you can’t see straight and haven’t eaten anything not covered in rat droppings for weeks… Your opinions on food ownership tend to get a little loser. Shame my reflexes had gotten so dull back then, because I would have gotten away with it, too. But I was delirious and truth be told probably looked dead already. So Alfie Solomons, the big bad wolf you think he is, took pity on me.”

It took a while for Polly to digest all that information and so you two just smoked in silence, up until her hand reached for yours somewhat unexpectedly. This time you didn’t reject her.

“I am sorrier than you could ever imagine, because—” Polly stammered.

“I know you are. But there is no need for it. I truly am at peace.”

After that, you just stood there holding hands, and even though you couldn’t know what Polly was thinking, you had a pretty good idea.

You were so different from Michael, that much was clear, and part of you wished you could express your feelings better than through an armour of perpetual cold or quips. Then again, from what you have heard today, Michael had led a very different life. Had you been allowed a normal home, with normal loving parents, perhaps you could have abandoned your snark and focused on rebuilding your relationship with Polly.

But, as things currently stood, it was too late to be something else than what life made you. A part of you would always remain on your guard, because no part of you would ever forget the hardships and the sacrifices you had to make from the ripe age of five. No child should ever see or endure what you had to.

“There’s still the matter of Boston,” Polly changed the subject swiftly and you smiled to yourself, wondering what her angle would be this time.

You came to like that about her, in the past few hours you came to finally know her. She was unpredictable and that kept you on your toes. If only she knew how much it resembled your husband’s own ways, perhaps she would stop with her side looks.

“What about Boston?” you asked.

“Your sister-in-law is Jack Nelson’s favourite niece. Or so we’ve heard.”

You shook your head and chuckled.

“You don’t like her, I take it. Gina Gray.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“Is it the snow habit or the scheming that bothers you more?”

“It’s the bad hairdo, mostly. I do like her choice in shoes, though…”

You laughed at that in earnest and looked at Polly to see her smiling at you, albeit a little shyly. The smile, you thought, removed ten years of worry from her face.

“I have heard about the Nelsons,” you informed her. “I don’t suppose Michael will look too kindly on what we’re about to do to them. But then again… They did kill Alfie’s uncle. They messed with his business. I don’t see how it could be forgiven.”

“No, I don’t see how it could. But I can still hear them talking in there and nobody shot anyone yet.”

“So we are in agreement.” You threw the rest of your cigarette away and looked at Polly once more.

“We all make sacrifices, I suppose,” she agreed. “But you, my darling, have made plenty. We will not ask you for more.”

You smiled at her again, though this time there was much less wariness to it. She spoke in riddles and kept her cards very close to her chest, but that also reminded you of Alfie. You were sure now you would like her very much indeed.

“Absolutely not. Out of the fuckin’ question, fuckin’ ridiculous.” Alfie waved his hand dismissively and then looked at you as soon as you and Polly came back inside. “You’re upsettin’ my wife, thanks very much, mate, all right, just look at her, Tommy, she’s plenty upset!”

“And why would I be upset, Alfie?” you chirped.

“She doesn’t even know what she’s sayin’ no more, poor thing.” He stood up abruptly, too abruptly for Arthur’s taste who immediately reached for his gun.

“Now, you’re alright there, sweetie, yeah, no need to get emotional,” Alfie gave him a look, “but my wife does need her rest, all right, an’ I don’t particularly need us all to tuck her into bed, it ain’t that kind of thing.”

Confused, you let your husband take you upstairs to your bedroom, because to be fair you knew better than to interrupt his scheming in business. It let him break the habit of scheming in your personal lives.

“Might I know why I’m being relegated to my bed without dinner like a toddler, Alfie?”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you, come ‘ere.”

As soon as the door closed behind you, you heard the telltale noises of a very agitated discussion happening downstairs.

“What did she tell ya then?”

“Who?”

“Your mother, hm?”

“It was mostly me doing the talking.”

“She told ya about Boston.”

“How did you…?”

“Hm, I didn’t, right, but now you just told me. So out with it.”

Honestly, you were sometimes so impressed with his skill of manipulation that you forgot to be annoyed at being the manipulated party.

“Alfie, if you don’t want your wife to divorce you, I suggest you utilise those evil gifts of yours on our guests.”

“Fair, but don’t be mad, luv, all right, come ‘ere,” he smiled and pulled you closer, “and tell your beast of a husband if he should go to war or not, ‘cause this time I don’t think I can do it without you.”

“Alfie, you have done it without me. Many times.”

“Precisely my point, all right, I’m the one who knows how it feels to not have you to keep me sane, luv, so if you say we don’t do it, then we don’t, yeah?”

“You… you’d abandon your vengeance? For me?”

“In a heartbeat, luv, what kind of question is that even, you don’t ask me that. ‘Course I fuckin’ would.”

Remembering what Polly said about Gina, your mind was pretty much decided. You appreciated Alfie’s honesty, always have, but disrespect couldn’t be easily forgiven.

“Then I say we do it.”

The sudden fire in your voice made Alfie grin.

“I say we kill them all, Alfie. You take Boston and Tommy can have Jack Nelson’s head on a spike.”

“On a spike, hm?”

“That’s right.”

He gently took your face in his hands and looked at you with such affection that it only reassured you in your thinking.

“I love it when you talk business to me, luv,” he concluded.

[solomons-finest-rum]

“As The Crow Flies” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 4 (FINALE)

SUMMARY — By all accounts Anna Gray died in Australia and had no business standing in Alfie’s living room, nor calling the man “darling” for that matter. But there you were, identical to the picture they took when they shipped you off to the colonies.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I feel like, perhaps, that is enough said in that little Alfie corner of mine. I'm not sure if I will return with any more stories. Thank you so much for the support along the way! I love you all dearly. One more note, some dialogue here is directly stolen from the show, because it was just too good not to.

💗💗💗💗💗

WORD COUNT — 2,434

Masterlist

You stayed observant through that bizarre meeting at Tommy’s equally bizarre mansion and gathered information as quietly and efficiently as you were taught to do. As you quickly learned, in Tommy’s new circles nobody suspected women of anything. This, you suspected, would surely be their downfall.

Jack Nelson was as infuriating as you had expected him to be. Not only did he insult your entire family by pretty much assuming you all still lived in caravans and told fortunes, he continued to be offensive even when he didn’t speak. Which wasn’t often. The man loved to hear the sound of his own voice and didn’t try to hide it.

Your infamous sister-in-law, Gina Gray, didn’t take too kindly to another woman present at the table—but seeing as she had felt so emboldened to restructure the Shelby organisation pretty much straight off the boat, you didn’t pay her any mind. She earned herself no favours with her ill-placed boldness.

What did amuse you most was the perpetual scowl on Lady Diana’s face, along with Oswald Mosley’s poorly concealed surprise at your presence. For a split of a second you regretted you had agreed to the plan. Perhaps you should have stayed in Margate… As your husband would say, life was so much easier when you were dead.

But it was too late to dwell on it. Somehow, both sides of your family came to accept a consensus those weeks ago, when the Shelbys invaded your seaside sanctuary on a misguided rescue mission. If there ever was a moment to compare your life to “Beauty and the Beast,” that would probably have been it.

Now one foot in the Shelby camp, one with the Solomonses, you really had to try very hard not to laugh in Jack Nelson’s face when he opened his mouth once more and the following came out:

“So you’re the sister,” he pointed to Ada whose scowl in comparison to Lady Diana’s was truly unmatched, “you’re the aunt,” he looked at Polly, “and you… You are cousins with Thomas, which I suppose makes you the sister-in-law to my favourite niece. How queer.” 

“Astute observation,” you muttered.

Jack Nelson remained unaffected. It seemed he could only pay attention to the words he spoke, the rest was lost to him.

“So it seems you and I are in the minority, Mr. Mosley. This,” Jack let out a humourless chuckle, “this feels too much like a witch coven and too little like a business meeting. Meant no offence, ladies.”

“Oh, Jack, you’re so blunt!” Gina rolled her eyes and gladly accepted her drink from Mosley.

“How refreshing,” sighed Lady Diana, “a man who isn’t careful with his words.”

Fish out of water, you didn’t comment, but Polly then spoke for the both of you:

“Yes, surely speaking your mind around gangsters should prove most beneficial.” She lit a cigarette in her usual dramatic way and handed you a match. You lit yours, too.

Jack looked at you both with an incredulous look, then let out a most uncomfortable chortle.

“I can see the family resemblance, you know…” He pointed towards you then turned to Gina. “Doesn’t she look just like Michael with that stony stare? I wondered… I wondered, sister dear, if you weren’t a fake, but now I see the Shelbys have not one lying bone in their bodies.”

How about the Solomonses?, you thought to yourself, but otherwise responded by leaning back in your seat and blowing out the cigarette smoke at the ceiling. Fortunately, the details of your marriage remained undisclosed for non-family members, because they weren’t yet useful.

And you didn’t consider the Americans your family.

Your indifference didn’t earn you any allies, but at least it seemed that Jack Nelson was most content when monologuing, so you let it be. Better they thought you a moron instead of suspecting the plot.

“Now, see, this is what I was hoping to hear from Thomas Shelby himself, but I wonder… What does Shelby Company Limited actually do?” Jack asked then, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

Oh, he thinks himself so smart, you thought, still silent as a grave.

Ada glared at him instead, like one might at a roach, and you started to wonder how many in the present company were actually holding any weapons. Gina looked too doped to care, you reasoned, and Lady Diana would never get her hands dirty, this much you could already tell after having known her for about thirty minutes. Jack might be carrying a piece and Mosley too, but both looked entirely too placated and confident in the company of women.

Of course, having predicted your fiery nature, you remained under strict orders from Tommy not to murder anyone. Yet. Alfie judged him well, you thought. Tommy truly could read anyone’s character like an open book.

But, as things stood, you were under no orders that concerned you plotting, and so you plotted in silence. Killing one of them would probably mean the other would attack immediately, but which would be easier to subdue should the occasion arise? You considered that precise conundrum when the door to the parlour opened once more and in it stood Tommy Shelby.

“Apologies for the delay, gentlemen. Ladies.” 

Now Tommy, you reasoned, he’d probably be greatly opposed to you starting a shootout in his home, but then he wouldn’t dare to kill you, not in front of Polly, and probably not while Alfie still drew breath. But by gods, you were growing tired of Jack Nelson’s tongue.

As Tommy sat down, a cigarette between his lips and a glass of Irish whiskey in his hand, you looked him in the eye and let yourself smile just a little. As far as cousins went, Tommy wasn’t so terrible.

“Tommy,” Gina cajoled. “Care to finally clue us in?”

“In what?” Tommy asked, his face a stony mask that revealed nothing, but somehow you already knew he despised the woman just as much as you all did.

Despite Jack Nelson’s sincerest efforts in assumption, though, your family wasn’t yet adept in mind reading and further explanations had to follow:

“Now, Mr. Shelby, Gina tells me this young lady there, your cousin, was presumed dead for the past decade or so,” said Mosley. “How curious indeed. I wonder why she is then present at the meeting? Is she sympathetic to the cause?”

The thought of a shootout came back to you like lightning. This time you got slightly panicky. You had no idea where the fascist’s reasoning would lead and you didn’t want to find out. 

Tommy looked at him as he lit his cigarette, then back at you to give you the tiniest nod of approval. You almost laughed. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe his grandfather’s gift truly allowed him to hear your thoughts.

“So not only can you Shelbys reach the dead, you can also raise them. My, my, Mr. Shelby, that will soon prove to be a very useful skill,” Mosley commented and Diana gave him a brilliant smile.

These people, you concluded, were trained parrots and fucking idiots. With the exception, perhaps, to Gina, who all in all seemed to have been trained in nothing.

“That remains to be seen.” Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette.

“Seeing as we’re all women and scarcely any men here,” Jack swiftly changed the subject, “I wonder where the husbands are? Are they not involved in family meetings?”

An ice-cold shiver went through you and Polly grasped your hand in hers to stop you from reacting. But you already felt panic settle in. Either this was idle talk or Jack Nelson wasn’t as ill-informed as you had judged him.

“Mine’s sadly dead now,” Ada answered sharply to Jack Nelson’s provocation, “but of course we speak often.”

If looks could kill, the one she sent Jack would burn him to a crisp. You smirked at the thought.

“Well, I’m bored now,” Gina announced and Ada rolled her eyes at the bratty behaviour. “Are we waiting for anyone else? Or can we finally get to business?”

Funny she should speak of business, you thought, seeing as she had no say in any. You, on the other hand, remained most curious on the subject of vendetta. Polly turned to Tommy and gave the slightest of nods.

“Perhaps, Mr. Mosley, we can turn to what practical things Mr. Nelson can do to further our cause, while he’s in the country,” Tommy said.

“Wouldn’t you I rather whisper in the President’s ear?” Jack Nelson smirked. “That is kind of why I’m here, right?”

Mosley seemed either pleased or exasperated at the suggestion, you couldn’t quite tell. His eyes remained dark and lifeless.

“We do, indeed, have things for you to pass on to the President,” he murmured, “but not while we share the table with Jewish whores.” He turned to you and in an instant you knew the charade was over. “Mr. Shelby, I truly expected better from you, but then again… Some blood runs thicker.”

There would be no swaying the room. Not when Mosley turned sharply to Jack and Gina and declared:

“That woman is the widow of Alfie Solomons, the late… king of Camden Jews,” he scoffed. “She is no aid in our cause, but a spy. One, I must say, very poorly concealed, Mr. Shelby.”

“Is that true?” Gina turned to you, eyes bright and wide from prolonged cocaine use. “You’re his wife?!”

“The widow,” Lady Diana corrected snidely, not without satisfaction. “His motley crew of sewer rats is no threat to anyone anymore, I assure you.”

You tried your best to remain calm, but the thought of the knife you kept concealed in your skirts grew stronger. The fascist idiot didn’t know your husband yet lived and while the information wouldn’t exactly help you right then, you held onto it for dear life. Nothing would happen to you while Alfie drew breath, this much you knew.

“Well then,” Ada sighed, “I’d say the negotiations are over?”

“Well,” Lady Diana chuckled humorlessly, “I’d say it was a pleasure, but my parents raised me better.”

Polly stood up first and perhaps that would be the end of it, had Lady Diana kept her mouth shut and didn’t whisper to her what she did:

“Gypsy scum.”

The movement was swift and sharp—obviously well-practised. One moment the hairpin was holding up Polly’s rich brown curls, the next it was firmly lodged in Lady Diana’s nose, all the way to her brain; Lady Diana’s face froze, twisted in pain and horror, and blood dripping through her eyes. 

Then, chaos ensued. Everyone rose from their seats, but only Tommy remembered his drills and, unlike Mosley, he would never be as arrogant to have come unprepared. 

“I will have no gorja speak like that of my kin,” he said calmly as he raised his revolver to Mosley’s head. “So when you meet the devil, say my greetings for me.”

Tommy shot him in cold blood and that, alongside a curse in his tongue of old, seemed enough to subdue even a man like Jack Nelson. Of course, to your great satisfaction, Gina swiftly joined her uncle’s bloodied corpse on the beautiful Persian rug—the corpse with your knife stuck in his neck.

“Now then, Tommy, what are we to do with you, hm?” Alfie exclaimed as soon as Tommy’s men let him inside the parlour that was now undergoing impromptu redecorating efforts. 

To their credit, Tommy’s maids scrubbed the blood off the furniture like it was their lives true calling, all the while you sat side by side with Polly and Ada, smoking cigarettes and pretending to be fine.

“Hello, Alfie,” Tommy hummed his usual greeting and handed Alfie a drink the man obviously refused.

“Nah, I don’t touch that stuff, mate, but I should see to my wife, perhaps, she looks like she dearly needs some looking after, right, especially since you Shelbys remain savagely as per fuckin’ usual!”

Tommy smirked at that, then motioned Arthur inside as soon as he saw his brother in the hall.

“Is it done, Arthur?”

“We burnin’ them outside, Tom, like you said,” the elder Shelby grunted.

“And can I say, right, about fuckin’ time that fascist burns in hell!” Alfie roared and came closer to place an affectionate kiss on your cheek.

“You alright then, sweetheart?” he asked and you nodded, reaching for his hand.

“She’s fine,” Polly scoffed.

“Right, high time I take my bride back home then, Tommy, since your war efforts are quenched, I hope, yeah, an’ I now find myself avenged,” Alfie concluded, thoroughly ignoring Polly’s implications. “Don’t think on any debt collection, though, Tommy, I know ya well enough and one look at this mangled face should halt any such notions from you, all right?” 

You stood when Alfie offered you his arm and smiled at Polly affectionately, seeing as she still remained vigilant around the man. Perhaps that would be their way.

“Hope to see you again, Cousin?” Ada grinned at you in a manner that greatly reminded you of Tommy—something feral in that smile still kept you on your toes.

“I hope so as well,” you said.

“Perhaps we should turn to Boston, dearest?” Alfie’s gruff voice brought you back to reality. “I hear my uncle remains a man of wisdom, even now he’s past sixty. But such is the way in my family, don’t you worry. I ain’t leavin’ you a simperin’ corpse anytime soon…”

As you said your goodbyes to the Shelbys, despite Alfie’s annoyance and pointedly showing you his pocket watch, your heart felt fuller than ever before in your tortured existence. You entered your curious marriage an orphan and somehow along the way found you had a clan to call your own on two continents.

“Lead the way, husband,” you chirped as Alfie led you to his car.

“Aye, I should hope to finally lead you away from the viper’s nest, wife,” Alfie grumbled, though you could tell he was only mildly annoyed. “Now that ya saved England with your damnable cousins might I humbly persuade you not to leave my side for the foreseeable future?”

“Why, Alfie, with talk like that people might think you grew fond of me.”

“People can well think what they fuckin’ like,” he scoffed and then kissed you the way he knew you liked to be kissed—like the world stopped for a second around you two and nothing mattered, just as long as your gangster husband would not stop kissing you.