#alfie solomons scenario

[sopxhiea]

Taboo

Alfie Solomons X Reader

TW(?): Mentions of Cheating

Summary: What if you meet the love of your love but you’re already married to someone else?

“Feel free to kill me for saying this...”

The rain quietly hits the grey pavement of the grim street, the lights are open even though it’s quite early in the afternoon. A faint scream comes from the corner, a kid running through the splashing rain with a jacket on his shoulders. The shops are all open, the businesses booming around town while the changing autumn weather gets the best of the unprepared.

You stand in the bakery shop.

A sigh leaves your lips, umbrella left somewhere at home while you shiver lightly in the bread smell covered little box you’re standing in. Your dress is light for the weather as it rests against your collarbones, the pinkish color matching the blush on your cheeks. You smile at the workers after thanking them for letting you stay in until the weather is a little bit better.

You don’t want to go home.

It hadn’t been your idea, the whole marriage deal. It wasn’t like you hated your husband. William was sweet to you, gentle even but there was no passion in the relationship. You knew marriage was an economical proposition, William was the best option you had at the time and he had been intriguing enough for you to say yes.

You sometimes wish you hadn’t.

Another light shiver runs up your spine but before you can rub your hands together again, the bell on the door rings, indicating someone else came in the shop. The chatter filled air is silent when the door closes, the life out of the shop sucked out once the new guest arrives.

It’s him.

His hat is covered in rain and so are his shoulders, you can’t completely see his face since his hat creates a shadow under the well-lit room. Your eyes travel along his golden beard, following the ring covered hand of his and his crown tattoo catches your eye but all along, you just stand in the same place.

His eyes travel across the small shop, giving a nod of recognition to the familiar workers as they get his regular order ready. It’s early for him to be showing up in the afternoon hours but no one in the shop is daring enough to question the gangster. While he looks around the small wooden place, his eyes land on the little pretty lady standing next to the window.

You seem to be lightly shivering, he gathers its because of your light dress. His eyes roam around our body, a little too inappropriately for a while and he stops when he sees you looking right at him. You give him a small smile, it’s your form of greeting and he’s too stunned to smile back so he nods at you.

He knows you as the little lady around the corner. You’re young, at least half his age. He knows you’re married to that wealthy William bloke, the one who doesn’t talk much and he wonders if he talks to you or if he is as boring as Alfie makes him out to be. His eyes travel across your back and he admires your wavy hair under the light. You look picturesque as he takes a better look at you.

“Afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” speaks one of the employees, hand holding two bags of bread and bakeries for him. You can sense the tension in the air but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, you have a lot of it at your own home.

The first couple of years were good, you think. William was attentive and calm like he usually was but the more time passed, the quieter he became. He didn’t talk much in the first place but you’d always been the conversation maker anyway. With the passing years, the house grew dull and so did your relationship to your husband.

At least he was wealthy, you thought.

Feeling the stranger’s eyes on you, you looked right back at him. There was an air around him, the kind of aura that perked your interest. You always had the tendency to get yourself in trouble, it was why your mom wanted you to marry William. Because he was good and well-behaved and you were fire, you were pure trouble and he balanced you out.

“It ‘s, yeah.” Alfie speaks to the employee, getting the bags from his hand while keeping his eyes mostly on you. 

You feel the rain get lighter by the passing second, if only you had an umbrella. It’s possible for you to go home on foot from the bakery but if you do so, you know the pastries will get wet and you don’t want to hear your husband complain. 

You don’t realize this is Alfie’s shop, not until you figure who he is.

You’ve heard things, everyone has. You know the scary old gangster that resides on the same part of London as you. Most people are scared of the man, only knowing him as the murderer and the powerful man they made him out to be but you know better than to stare at him for too long.

He sees the glisten in your eyes and hesitates to walk out of the shop. He knows you’re a regular but he’s never had the pleasure of seeing you up close before. You’re proper lovely, he thinks and the more he looks at you, the more he realizes that you’re not the type to shy away by any means.

“Lass..” he speaks, taking a step closer to you and the employees are all gone to the back by the time you look up to meet his blue eyes.

“Yes?” you speak, your voice is so breathy that it makes his eyes flutter. He smiles a little, not able to hide the hints of amusement on his face as he takes a good look at your features.

You’re young, you already look younger than you are and he sees the lack of experience written in your delicate features. His eyes travel to your lips as you lick them, your soft eyes illuminated by the bakery shop as you stare up at him with curious eyes.

“Ya’ need help?” he speaks and you shoot him a daring look, allowing him to speak further and he feels himself get carried away.  “The bags, yeah, I got a fuckin’ umbrella right ‘ere.” his voice fades by the end of his sentence but your eyes don’t budge. He knows you’re not scared of the big scary gangster.

“I...uh.” you speak, eyes traveling to his hand where he’s holding the said umbrella. You give him a faint smile then, you don’t want to go home but the offer is far too intriguing.

He seems dangerous, you’re drawn to him.

“That’d be wonderful, thank you.” you say and the movement that follows your words is almost automatic as you smile up at him. 

He opens the door for you after getting the umbrella ready, the thing is more than enough for the both of you and since you happen to be half the man’s size, you easily manoeuvre your way next to him under the grimy weather. You stand next to him for a couple minutes as he looks down at you, your curious eyes ogling the man who’s currently holding up an umbrella for you.

He smiles down at you, in an adoring way almost and starts walking under the umbrella with you on his side. As the smell of rum and vanilla consumes you, you come to realise that the bloke walking next to you is a lot more taller than you’d anticipated. You need to crane your neck to look up at him but you shrug the thought away and keep walking.

You soon realise that the gentlemen has been staring the whole time, his glances grow longer and longer each time he takes a look at you. You gulp, realising that you’ve probably made a poor decision by accepting the stranger’s offer since he happens to be a gangster but you look past it.

“Yer’ shiverin’, pet.” he speaks, looking down at you once again and you ignore the little flip of your stomach when he does.

“Oh.” you speak, not knowing why he felt the need to point the fact out. “It is raining outside, I’d say that’s fairly normal.” you speak, biting back a response and he looks at you with a low chuckle, you don’t look feisty to him but your words say otherwise.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he mutters under his breath and you smile at his reaction, he doesn’t know what he’s in for.

You don’t feel the need to apologize for biting back a response like you just have, although most proper ladies would. You’re far too tired and spent for that, just no matter how much younger you are. His eyebrows shoot up when you remain silent, he’s waiting for some kind of ‘sorry’ for the fact that you’ve just talked back to a gangster.

“Proper lady like yourself, yeah, shouldn’t be speakin’ that way.” he says, his suggestion is lighthearted but it makes you look up at him as you walk next to the built man. His hand is tugging at his beard as his orbs stare at you.

“What makes you think I’m a proper lady?” you speak, the whole sentence filled with giggles as you make out the words. You’re far from proper.

Oh, if only he knew.

He’s heard of you. It wasn’t like everyone knew of how wild you were before you had gotten married but as the man who ran the town you were currently residing in, it was hard not to. He’s heard of the young girl with the wicked smile, the one many lusted after but she was soon married off to a wealthy guy to make sure she didn’t get pregnant or run off.

“Ya’ definitely look like one, lass.” he speaks under his breath when you stop at your doorstep.

The apartment you live in is the posh area, thanks to the money your husband so earnestly earns. His whole family is known for their money which was why your mother had jumped to the idea of marrying one of his kin, so that you’d leave a comfortable life with a quiet husband.

But she hadn’t realised that there was no love between the two of you.

There was understanding and a lot of quiet but no love. The sex was adequate but William was selfish when it came to it, it wasn’t like what you wanted sex to be for the rest of your life and much like with everything else, his family had blamed you for not being able to get pregnant years on end. You were to blame for all things, no matter what it was.

“Well, this proper looking lady thanks you for walking her home.” you spoke, a smile on your lips after you climbed onto the doorstep. Your height was even now, the steps had done that and you could see his features a little clearer.

Wasn’t he supposed be an old guy?

His golden beard covered a good portion of his handsome features but you could see that he was a sharp looking gentlemen. His blue orbs were gentle as they gazed into your eyes, his plump lips curtained by his beard as they glistened under his umbrella. You ignored the way his smell surrounded you, the maid would be opening the door soon and you’d have to go in.

“Very much welcome, yeah, my fuckin’ pleasure.” he smiled at you, his gaze getting stuck on your lips every now and then and he was not subtle about it which made you smile back at him.

You heard the footsteps of the maid from the other side of the room, the rain long gone now but the umbrella is still in its place in his calloused hands. You gulp and he senses the hesitation, his gaze dropping on your wedding ring every now and then.

“See you around, Mr. Solomons.” And you disappear behind the front door.

-----

A month.

A month passes by where the handsome scary gangster comes by the bakery a little too often. The workers know the reason is you but you remain oblivious. There are more pastries in your house each day, he sends them as his regards on the days you don’t stop by. You don’t tell your husband but he’s away on business on most days as you writhe in the big house.

You’re situated on the floor in nothing but your nightgown. There’s a book on your lap and a drink in your hand, you try not to drink in the afternoons but wine is too intriguing. You sip on the cold drink while laying on the cold wooden surface, feet moving along to the little rhythm that plays in the room from the corner.

You don’t think about the way his eyes roam all over your body and how he licks his lips every time you smile at him. Your mind is not on how his rings feel on your skin as he guides your hands through the shelves in the bakery. He knows which bread is good and he’s gotten to know your taste, your breath hitches every time he stands too close to watch as you decide on which loaf to get for the day.

You don’t hear the knock.

The maid is quick on her feet to greet the guest. She understands the struggles of being married to someone you don’t love, she’s almost a friend to you while you ask her to teach you things like knitting and cooking each week. There’s an understanding between the two of you, something that comes from being females in this cold world. You think of her as a gift from your husband, since the bloke is always away.

“Miss.” the maid speaks, her voice is quiet and you don’t look up from your book as you lay on the floor, just a nod of acknowledgment that tells her to keep speaking. “You have a guest.”

But you don’t know anyone.

Your eyes look up at her first but your eyes soon travel to the tall man next to her. You know the hat. Your body is fast to get up, feeling some need to cover up with something since the nightgown you’re wearing is merely a thin dress. You gulp, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you nod at the maid, she’s quick to leave.

“Mr. Solomons.” you speak, voice cautious as you stare up at him. He’s wearing his usual attire and you can smell the bakes goods he’s brought. But you’re oblivious as to why he’s in your house.

“Miss Y/N.” he speaks, he knows you’re married.

“It’s Mrs, actually.” you say, before you can register. There are lines you cannot cross, you’re aware but you don’t realise just how eager you feel to cross them.

“Right.” he says, eyes dropping to your wedding ring once again.

Your hand shows him the seat, ushering him to take a seat but his eyes are glued on your small form. He can see your body clearly under the afternoon light that creeps from the open blinds. He takes the seat and hears the sound of the pot, the maid is making tea and he wonders if you do this a lot, invite unmarried dangerous man to your house and seduce them with just a look.

But you haven’t even done anything.

“What brings you here?” you speak as you lift the book and the drink and put both of them on the drawer next to the shelves. He soon realises the whole room is decorated with books, paintings and music records, so this is what you do when your husband is away.

“Curiosity.” he speaks, eyes scanning yours for any kind of sign but all you have in your orbs is a sign.

You’re warning him.

You’re married, you so badly wish you weren’t in this moment but you are. There’s a wedding band on your ring and you’re bound to another man. He’s boring, wealthy but he’s too quiet for you. No matter just how fucked up it all is, you don’t feel the courage to betray William. He’s been fairly good to you, leaving you on your own with a maid who’s been a good friend to you. He provides for you and he’s bought you everything you want.

“I see.” you speak, not sure of yourself because you don’t trust yourself around this man. He’s far too intriguing.

You give him a smile then, it’s the same kind of smile of a girl who’s bound to break Alfie’s heart. He knows it and you know it, too. The maid quietly comes in then, tea and pastries the beloved gangster has brought on a tray and she sets the table up for the two of you and leaves, just like that.

“Mr. Solomons, I-” you start once the maid is out, he’s relentless, you think as he cuts you off.

“Cut that out, pet, yeah, we both know there’s no fuckin’ use to it.”  he speaks and you smile again, his words cut through the silence a little harsher than he meant for them to do.

“Alright then.” you speak and get up to settle on the table. He follows your movements and soon, you’re both sitting on the table with tea cups on our hand. “Alfie.” your voice is breathy as you whisper his name, he can’t help but imagine how your voice would sound like in the middle of a good fuck.

“Feel free to kill me for saying this, pet...” he speaks, voice altering but it’s easy to sense his confidence. You watch him under a heavy gaze while he takes a sip from his cup and speaks. “..but you’re awfully distracting for a man like me.”

He speaks the truth as he looks at you. He’s been feeling rather frenzy, thoughts occupied mostly by work and then there was the thought of you creeping in between the lines. How you’d look after a good fuck, seeming as you don’t get any with your husband being away and all. He found himself thinking about you as he stared at the fire place, the little lady around the corner who seemed too feisty for her own good, fucking gorgeous too if he was to add.

“A man like you?” you speak, eyes traveling across the table to meet his blue ones. You see him smile and shake your head, he’s already a goner.

“Fuckin’....criminal, yeah. Have you not heard what I fuckin’ do, pet?” he asks, eyes searching yours but the only thing he finds it is amusement.

“Aren’t you the scary big gangster around the corner?” you ask, a wide smile on your lips after you take a sip from the hot cup of tea.

So you do know, he thinks. 

And you know. You know he kills for a living and that the bakery is just a cover up, word travels fast around here. You know he’s crushed a man’s windpipe with the hold of his head, that he’s nothing but trouble. You know all about the money he collects, the way people tremble when they hear he’s around. You know all about him.

“I am, yeah. And seein’ as I am just that, your pretty little self shouldn’t be concerned with me, right.” he speaks and you see the lines of hesitation flicker on his face. It’s his time to warn you but you’ve already crossed a line and you intend to push him since he’s made the effort to come to you.

“Concerned?” you ask, taken aback a little and you watch him watch you while you take a sip. 

He’s playing with the devil herself and he doesn’t even know it.

“I’m not concerned at all. Just interested.” you speak into the silence and he swears he hears his heart pounding on his chest. You were the woman they’d warned him about after all.

He chuckles at your words, eyes widening for a second as he leans back. His hand tugs at his beard, observing you for a second before his deep voice fills the house your husband bought for you. “Interested, yeah?”

“Hmm.” you hum, nodding as you confirm his words. You’re wilder than he thinks, he says to himself but he’s definitely not the one to shy away so he stares right ahead at you. “Very much so.”

“You, yeah..” his finger points at you then which brings a soft smile to your lips, you look like an angel yet you speak of devilish things. “..seem like nothin’ but trouble.” he speaks, eyes not off you for a second as you find him even more intriguing.

“Isn’t it your job to deal with said trouble?” you blink at him, literally batting eyelashes as he looks at you.

He doesn’t even like your husband, he thinks. Why is he hesitating so much?

He chuckles once again, he’s impressed to say the least. He knows the maid is in the house somewhere, surely listening but you don’t seem to give a damn. He sees the need for danger, for thrill and excitement in this little boring life you’re stuck with and if he’s honest with himself, he’ll willingly be the source of all thrill for you but something stops him from doing that.

The uncertainty of what you’re asking for.

Just when he’s getting deep into thought, you break the chain of sentences that reside on his mind by clearing your throat softly and speaking. You don’t beat around the bush.

“Look, Alfie..” your voice is stern this time. “..I don’t do this, ever. I need you to know that I’ve been loyal to my husband since the beginning, despite the things I’m sure you’ve heard..” you speak, and you are right. He’d heard an awful lot about you, mostly bad but he’d ignored it. He had the same treatment himself. “I don’t have time to beat around the bush. I need relief.....in all senses of the word.”

He watches you under a stern stare, he sees the glint of truth and bluntness mixed in with your words. “If you are willing to provide me with said relief, you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you please but if not, you can go back through the same door you came from.”

You smile at the end of your sentence, he can’t tell of he’s about to sell his soul to the devil herself or if you are just looking for a way out. His eyes scan your half dressed form, if he’s honest with himself, you’ve been the only thing in his mind for the last month but he’s too proud to show it. He’s attracted to you, drawn to your small form like moth to a flame and he truly doesn’t care that you’re married.

Sometimes, he thinks, people marry the wrong partners.

And you’re the perfect example of that. He knows your bloke is out on some country, you’re more than sure he’s already cheated a couple times but it doesn’t bother you. You don’t love William, you like his company but that’s also not something you prefer. You need the attention you crave from Alfie and he seems like the perfect gentlemen.

“Alright, lass.” he speaks, playing with his rings still as he looks at your small form once again. William doesn’t know he’s missing out on a goddess, he thinks. You flash him a small smile when he gets up to either leave or accept the generous offer.

He gets sex, he gets you and he gets to do it all in someone else’s mess. He knows certain things will develop with time but he’s too riled up at the moment to think about them, his judgement gets cloudier each time he thinks of what it would be like to have you all to himself, a piece of heaven. 

His voice fills the oak walls and you wickedly smile after his words. After he’s done speaking, he’ll follow you to the bathroom and the walls will be filled with something other than the faint jazz music from the record player for once.

“Lead the way.”

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive​  @parkbearum​ @sourirez​  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog​ @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @babaohhhriley​ @fairypitou​  @tommydoesntpayforsuits​  @paintballkid711​ @misselsbells06

a/n: Ok soooooo i was gone for like....idk how long but uni kicked my ass and i had to take some time off but anyway i hope all you angels are doing good!!<33 Idk if this means i’m back YET bc i have to move soon so there’s thatBUT i hope you enjoy this and let me know what you thought of it <3 xoxo

also i don’t support cheating or anything of the kind THIS IS IMAGINARY <3

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[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.”

#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy x reader

[disasterofastory]

Trapped (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Trapped Alfie Solomons x Reader Warnings: nothing but smut. oral.

Summary: You are trapped under the desk because of Tommy fucking Shelby.

The office is quiet except for the low grunting sounds Alfie makes above his old desk full of papers and knick-knacks. His musky scent and the bakery's typical alcoholic smell mix in your nostrils. It makes your head dizzy and drives you deeper and deeper.

You drive him deeper and deeper.

Your red-painted lips stretch around his erection. You can feel the tip in your throat. Your fingers are around the thick base of his cock, while with your other hand, you tighten your grip on his thigh. His muscles jerk every now and again.

You are under Alfie's desk. Legs spread open. The dirty ground is hard against your knees. The skirt you wear is around your waist. One of his legs is between your thighs. The toe of his shoe grazes over your panty-clad pussy every time you move. You are sure the soft fabric is dark from your excitement.

"That's right, dove," the man grunts above you. His voice is a bit muffled because of the desk but still loud and powerful. Hearing the small praise, you push yourself some more onto his cock. Saliva drips down on your cheek, falling to your bra-covered chest.

Your clit throbs, you want to grind yourself on his shoe so much, but you force yourself to be still. You have to focus and keep yourself from gagging. No matter how much you crave some friction between your legs, you want him in your mouth more. As if reading your troubled thoughts, the man moves his leg, making you moan. The vibration of your voice goes straight to his spine, pushing his hip up to your face. "That's a good girl," he groans again. A document lies in front of him on wooden surface, waiting for him to take care of it. The pencil that usually lies on his desk under everything is just a few moments away from breaking in his grip. "You are such a good girl, Y/N," Alfie praises you. "So good for me."

You moan again. His shaft is heavy on your tongue, and the salty taste of him fills your senses. It mixes with your saliva, still dripping from your lips.

There is something in the whole scenario that makes you crazy. You, under the desk with Alfie's cock in your mouth. Your face is a mess of tears and others, while your pussy is slick with juices because you grind yourself down on his shoe. It's dirty and shameful. And something you enjoy immensely.

You are sure you could cum just hearing his deep baritone making you more and more desperate.

The door of his office opens with a creak, but you don't even notice it until you hear another voice.

Thomas Fucking Shelby.

You freeze, and the man has to force his lips into a tin line not to bark at you when the magical work of your throat stops around his aching cock, ready to burst.

"Ollie told me you are free," Tommy says, closing the door behind himself without waiting for an invitation. "Yeah," Alfie croaks, clearing his throat. "What do you want, mate?" His tone is impatient, but it's not new.

Your eyes widen when you hear a chair creaking behind you, and you face the fact that Alfie won't send the other man away. Tommy stays. And you stay under the desk too.

You need a few minutes to calm yourself down while they start to speak. You don't dare to move, afraid you would make a sound that could ruin your hiding place. Alfie is still hard, and your jaw starts to hurt after a few minutes. You can't be like this for who knows how long. With a deep but silent breath, you back away, and the man's cock in front of you falls out of your mouth. He glistens with saliva and precum and stands erect in front of your face. A vein bulges out under the soft skin. You lean in, licking up on it. Alfie coughs. You know you should stop. You should let him take care of his business with Tommy, but how could you keep yourself away from him?

Your tongue is flat against his cock, moving up until your lips close around the tip. You suckle on it, almost dizzy with him in your hand. And while you find calmness in the simple movement, even forgetting about the aching emptiness in your pussy, Alfie gets closer and closer to chasing the gypsy out from his office to fuck you and cum down in your throat. The image of your lips wide open for his semen makes him coat your mouth in his precum some more.

Your knees hurt by the time, they are done with their conversation, and you hear Tommy's chair moving. Excitement bubbles in your stomach, your hole clenches around nothing, and you are ready to take Alfie's length back into your throat. His cock jerks at the warm feeling of your mouth around him.

"I will see you soon, Alfie," Tommy says, pushing down the doorknob to let himself out. "Right, right," the man grunts, gripping the edge of the desk. Just get the fuck out of here, he thinks. "Bye, Y/N," Tommy adds.

You gag.

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut

[zablife]

Partners in Crime

John Shelby & Y/N Solomons (Alfie's sister)

Summary: Their unique skill sets and their older brothers' greed have brought them together against their will. Can they learn to get along?

Author's Note: Not a series, but an ongoing list of blurbs about an AU I can't stop thinking about where John and Alfie's sister are problematic besties. Send asks for scenarios you'd like to read about!

Afternoon Tea

Co-Workers

Shots Fired

The Runaway

Plus One

Birthday Gift

A Small Favor

#John Shelby #John Shelby fanfic #John Shelby x Solomons sister #John Shelby x you #John Shelby x y/n #John Shelby x reader

[issdisgrace]

SUNDAY DINNER

WARNINGS: Use of the word fag, and nothing else

I sigh to myself as I knock on the door to Alfie’s office.

“Come in.” His voice rings out. Opening the door, I step into the office, closing the door behind me.

“Hey Alfie, you got a minute.”

“Yeah darling i do, have a seat.” He says, setting his paper down, gesturing towards the couch. I nod, walking over to the couch and lay down it like I’ve done a handful of times in the past.

“So what wrong my darling Y/n.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about telling my family about me and about us. But I don’t know how they’re gonna react. I’m worried that they’ll shame me and kick me out of the family. I don’t know what I would do without them.”

“Well, darling I’m gonna be honest with you. I don’t know how they will react to either piece of information. They are a bunch of no good hard heads. But I can tell you they love you just as much as I do. So I wouldn’t worry too much about it. But telling them about us on the other hand I can tell you they will flip out.”

“Would you come with me when I tell them?”

“Are we going to tell them about both things?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, but I better not get shit from any of them about dating you and if I do beat their asses, also I expect my compensation via kisses.”

“Alright, I think I can do that. Thank you Alfie.” I say, looking over at him, sending him a smile, which he returns.

Later that night I go home and call up aunt Polly.

“Hey Polly.”

“Y/n. How have you been? You settle into your new place.”

“I’m good. I settled in nicely. I just wanted to call and tell you that I’m ready to tell the family.”

“You are? Are you sure?”

“I’m sure Polly. I’ve been putting off telling everyone and now that I got my own place and I’m out on my own I think it’s time. I’ve also got a boyfriend and we’ve been going strong for 6 months and I want you guys to meet him.”

“That’s wonderful darling. How about you bring him to dinner on Sunday night?”

“Sounds good. He mentioned he was free Sunday, so I guess we are good to go then.”

“Alright, remember to be here at 6pm.”

“Ok, Polly I’ll see you Sunday at 6. I love you. Thank you for the support. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem darling, you are like a son to me. It would also be hypocritical of me, liking both women and men and not supporting my nephew. Anyway, I got to finish a couple of things papers, so I love you. Goodnight. I’ll see you Sunday.” 

“I love you too, Polly. Goodnight, see you on Sunday.”

Sunday had finally rolled around and my anxiety was at a 100. It got worse and worse as the day went on. Then it was time to meet up with Alfie and head to Polly’s house for dinner.

As we drove along and got closer and closer, I felt sicker and sicker.

“Darling, you ok. You're looking pale.”

“I’m fine Alfie don’t worry. I’m just anxious, that’s all.”

“I am anxious too darling. Don’t worry I’ll be right by your side the whole time and your aunt will be there. And she’ll kick your brother’s asses if they say anything.”

I let out a laugh, picturing Polly kicking their asses.

“You’re right.”

“I know I am darling. So how about we focus on best-case scenarios?”

We park in front of Polly’s house and I let out a sigh, looking over at Alfie. It looks like everyone is already here. 

“You ready, darling?” I take a deep breath before saying.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Me and Alfie then get out of the car. Walking around the car, I then link hands with Alfie. The feeling of his rough hand in mind bringing me comfort. We walk up the path to the front door before we knock. We stand there for a minute before the door is suddenly pulled open, revealing Polly.

“Y/n good to see you. And ahh, you’re the infamous King of Camden, Alfie Solomons.”

“I’m just Alfie Solomons tonight Miss Gray.” 

“Alright, well please do come in.” Polly says, moving to the side to let us in. Stepping in, the sound of chatter hits our ears.

“Everyone is in here.” Polly says, leading us into the living room. I keep a tight grip on Alfie’s hand as we walk into the room and as soon as we are seen everything goes dead silent. Everyone is looking at us.

“Hello everyone.” I managed to get out.

“What is he doing here?” Tommy asks clearly not to be happy to see me hand in hand with one of his business partners.

“Well, if you guys weren’t smart enough to figure it out already I am a fag. As for Alfie, we have been dating for 6 months now.”

“Your a fag?” Arthur, John, and Finn ask in synchronicity.

“God, you guys are so stupid. No offense Y/n but you didn’t really do a good job of hiding your preference towards men.” Ada says, looking up. I meet her eyes, and she gives me a smile.

“None taken Ada. I realized that I wasn’t that good at hiding it a while ago.”

“Why him of all people, Y/n,” Tommy asks.

“Alfie is good for me. He treats me well. He makes sure I’m taken care of and he cooks for me.”

“He’s the King of fucking Camden. Don’t you get it Y/n. He can get you killed.” Tommy says, raising his voice. 

“And you’re Thomas Shelby, the leader of the Peaky Blinders. For fuck’s sake Tommy, me being your brother is enough to get me killed.”

“He’s right Tommy.” Polly speaks up. “Despite me not being the biggest fan of Mr Solomons. No offense Mr Solomons. Y/n has a valid point that you’re just going to have to accept. And you’re going to have to accept that Y/n is with Mr Solomons. All of us will need to accept that.”

“If it’s any consolation Y/n I don’t care who you date.” Ada says.

“Thank you Ada.”

“No problem.”

The room then falls silent as Tommy, Arthur, John, and even Finn stare daggers into Alfie. It only lasts a minute before a ring breaks the silence.

“Foods ready.” Polly says as she quickly leaves the room. Great, dinner totally isn’t going to be awkward. I look over to Alfie and give him a weak smile that he returns. Let’s see just how bad this dinner can get, I think to myself as I lead Alfie out of the living room and towards the dining room.

“I’m gonna need a drink after this aren’t I.”

#alfie solomons #polly gray #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #ada shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #peaky blinders x male reader #alfie solomons x male reader #polly gray x male reader #tommy shelby x male reader #ada shelby x male reader #alfie solomons x reader #polly gray x reader #tommy shelby x reader #ada shelby x reader #peaky blinder x reader

[padfootdaredmetoo]

Can you do a part two of Tommy and the girl he adopt from the orphanage I gotta see more of her relationship with Noah Solomon’s. And I beg an plead can you do a scene where the whole family goes to the fair and Noah’s there with Alfie. She’s riding on the Ferris wheel with like a friend or something she might be in a fight lol it’s Noah an please I beg you use the scene from the note book where Noah jumps up and hangs from the beg her to go forgive him. But she cheekily undoes his pants like Allie did and her whole family and alfie are watching it unfold !! Please

Dear Anon,

I wanted this so badly that I let this request jump the que. I've never seen the notebook and I had a different slightly more ridiculous scenario that popped into my head hopefully this is satisfactory!

Warnings: Angry dads, peaky typical violence, kissing, suggested sexual content, Aunt Polly loves you enough to stay up all night.

Part 1

There were a lot of things your parents did right and knowing how to motivate you to do well was one of them. 

The fair was in town that weekend and if you got top marks on your finals, they would take you, and if you got okay marks Esme and John said they would take you behind their back. But you wanted to see your dad at the fair.

Lizzie always looked out of place because of how beautiful she looked. While Tommy always looked out of place because he looked like he was coming from a funeral or causing one. The thought of him taking you to the fair brought you a whole mix of feelings. Part of you thought it was funny, the other remembered how badly you’d wanted your dad to take you when you were little. 

When Noah called to let you know that he and his family were also planning on going you refused to acknowledge the looming possibility that it could go horrifically wrong. He’d called to ask if it would be better that they go on a different day, but you assured him that was ridiculous. In your eyes, they were business friends. But still friends, no reason to give each other a hard time or cause a scene. 

“Don’t worry about it Noah, I’m sure they will manage” You fought to get the words out in a reasonable tone. “If any problems come up, I’ll have us leave right away.” 

“Don’t worry about it love, If things kick up on our end we can leave. I know how much you wanted to go.” His voice was like honey, and you just wanted to drown in it forever. God and he cared so much.

“That’s really sweet of you. I- I think it will be fine.” You said with a smile you hoped he could hear. 

“I’ll call you before bed” There was a loud commotion behind him and you assumed he must be calling you from his dad’s work. 

“And I’ll answer.” You responded back. Since you were going steady he’d call you every night before bed. Sometimes to chat, other times just to tell you he hoped you slept well. The line went dead and you let out a triumphant squeal. 

Your dad flung open the study door scanning the room. Looking around the room and finding nothing out of place or alarming, his face fell and he let out a sigh. 

“What's he done this time eh? Bloody boy -” He continued to grumble but you cut him off with a big hug. Normally you kept your screams of excitement and any loud noises to an absolute minimum because you hated how it set him off. War flashed in his eyes every time, you never knew what to do so you just hugged him and hope it helped. 

“Nothing, nothing. Just excited to go to the fair.” 

“Nothing to do with the Solomons also going to the fair then?” He responded easily holding you back. Your eyes went wide and you pulled away enough to look up at him. “That’s right us dad’s talk you know.” You froze up even more. Did Noah talk about you? Did Alfie? 

“What do you talk about?” He looked at you for a long second holding you in suspense. 

“Business and now thanks to you coordinated trips to the fair.” He sighed. 

“Wait. Wait. Wait. He coordinate it? Like he, you know, he tried to get us all there at the same time?” 

“According to Alfie, he won’t shut up about it. Wants us all to get along or something started talking about family trips out to the beach house, proposing after graduation, moving you off to London,” He watched your face twist up in horror before tickling you. 

“DAD!” You shouted pushing his hands off you. He moved past you to put his briefcase on his desk. 

“Caught your mother listening in on the phone with Esme in the kitchen.” He smiled at you and it was enough that you stopped bothering him even though you wanted to. “Not my fault, your mother knows no boundaries, trust me.” 

“I’ll have to sort that out later.” You said sternly. You already knew that they listened in that’s why you had come up with codded phrases and words. 

“Can we go still go then?” You asked him hesitantly.

“I’m not going to cause a gang fight at a family fair,” He said giving you a look that made you feel bad for implying such things. “ I know how to behave myself, it's Alfie we need to watch out for.” 

You made a mental note to ask John what the history was between the two men next time he was drunk. 

“So that’s a yes?” You asked hopefully. 

“It’s not a no.” He answered back and you did a happy dance. “Now go bother your mother for invading your privacy, I have a lot to do” 

You ran out of his study and went right into the kitchen, opening the door suddenly, startling the women on the other side. It wasn't even dinner yet and you could see that their faces were already quite rosy. You stared at them for a moment like you felt Tommy would, and they sat there looking suspicious. 

“Noah’s going to be at the fair, with his family.” They both nodded and hummed, you watched Esme look out the window and Lizzie focus her attention on the napkin in front of her. “But I’m sure you already knew that” 

You laughed as they both started blaming each other and rambling excuses. Normally it would irritate you but nothing could dampen your mood today. 

“So naturally I’ll need help figuring out what to wear,” You said letting them off the hook. You watch the relief and Esme playfully smacked you on the bottom. 

“Don’t do that your Aunty. I’m an old woman now!” She scolded 

“If you're an old woman what does that make me eh?” Lizzie shot back. They continued on bantering and you claimed your usual spot at the table. Polly eventually showed up and joined in. 

Where ever the women were, the men were usually not far behind. No better way to spend a Friday night than drinking with your family till the sun comes up. It was loud and your ribs always hurt afterward from laughing and singing. As things were starting to come to an end you sat on Tommy’s lap and got awarded your one alcoholic drink of the night. 

____

Getting to the fair was surprisingly easy. Everyone was going but they were taking their own cars, except you were picking up Polly. She slid into the back seat looking mighty hungover from the night before despite it being nearly 5 o’clock in the evening. 

She had her sunglasses on and before you said anything to her she held her hand up to silence you. She got settled and put her head on your shoulder tasking you with being a good pillow. 

After weeks of waiting and working hard, you were finally there. You followed your cousins leaving the parents to walk around at their own pace. 

You went along with whatever they wanted to do while you waited for Noah to get there. More than anything you wanted a kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel. Something your mind had cooked up in the many fantasies about how the day was going to go. Something that motivated you when you would start falling asleep on your textbook. 

You were determined to get that kiss at the top. 

Until you bumped into Roger. Why did gangsters think sending all their kids to the same school was a good idea? 

“Ah! There you are! Was hoping I’d bump into you.” He smile at you and your stomach turned into a knot. 

“Hi, Roger.” You said politely. “Was just about to go -” 

“Come with me on the Ferris wheel, Eh?” He cut you off making you even more annoyed. But the line was moving and he looped his arm into yours. The only way out of it would be to cause a big scene. His eyes narrowed and you got dragged towards the little, pink car. Once off this contraption you were going make this boy's life a living hell. Before all the way in you made one more scan of the crowd for your dad somehow thinking he’d be the answer to all of this. 

He started droning on about how you should go on some dates with him, get to know his family, leaving Noah behind. You felt your face get hot with anger, tears threatening to spill over on how such a terrible boy could cause such problems in your life. You should have started beating on him. Done something other than just go along with it. Your mind got worse and worse, as the thing started to move, you immediately regretted your decision of coming at all. 

You started to panic being in a space with this asshole, while also moving away from the ground. Your heart started to hammer and your hands got shaky. 

“You afraid, love?” He challenged, placing his hand on your knee suggestively. You pushed his hand away fighting the urge to start smacking him, it would only rock the car sending you into a fit. You tried desperately to focus on your breathing. After this was over you could run straight to your dad and leave. Go home to where it was safe. When suddenly the car made a horrid swinging motion. 

__________________________________________________

“What do you mean she’s on the Ferris wheel?” Shock washed over Noah as he looked up towards the contraption. All you had talked about was how badly you wished he could come so they could ride the bloody thing. 

“I thought she was up there with you,” Finn said coldly. Noah could tell Finn wasn't thrilled with the situation. He looked up and recognized Rodger’s navy blue cap. After his vile comments about her circulated to Noah he'd told her to stay as far away from him as possible. Realizing what he could be up to with her trapped in there all his sensibility disappeared.

Without thinking, or remembering his fear of heights, he was overcome with anger. 

“That fucking bastard!” The words were out of his mouth as he charged towards the ride. The thought of him putting his hands on you trapped in that stupid pink car was enough to send him over the fence and leaping up into the air. 

__________________________________________________

“Pulling my boy away from his faith. That’s what your little harlot of a daughter is doing.” Alfie said making Tommy’s fists clench. He could tell that Alfie regretted his choice of words without him saying anything so he let it go. 

“Your dodgy son is going to drag her right back to the sewers.” He answered smoothly. And that's exactly what the boy was going to do. Drag her right back into the life he fought to pull the family out of. 

“Should have raised her better.” He quipped back. Lizzie came and took his arm. 

“Lovely girl you got there Mrs. Shelby,” Alfie said politely. “I haven't had the pleasure yet but I’ve heard a lot about her.” 

“Likewise! Noah seems to have made quite the impression on her.” Lizzie smiled politely. Tommy looked around for any type of distraction when he noticed a boy hanging from the Ferris wheel. A commotion of yelling was going on when he noticed that it was his kid in the fucking car. 

“Fuck!” Tommy took off towards the ride not able to do anything other than get to her as soon as possible. Dumb fucking kids were going to send her to her death fucking around like that. 

Once he got close he could hear the shouting match. Of course, it was that stupid boy - 

“What’s your girl done, that’s got my boy dangling 20ft in the air?!” Alfie demanded and it took everything in Tommy to avoid pulling his gun. 

“WHY IS YOUR SON TRYING TO KILL HER EH?” He screamed back. He heard her let out a yelp and their attention refocused on the commotion in the sky. 

“NOAH DON’T ITS NOT WORTH IT.” he hated seeing her in so much distress. He was either going to shoot someone or puke. Or both.

“YES IT FUCKING IS. HE’S DEAD. FUCKING DEAD.” 

“WHO’S DEAD?” Lizzie screamed up causing him to jump. 

“ROGER” The two of them screamed down in unison. 

“YOU KILLED HIM THEN?” Alfie shouted and Tommy wondered how on earth his life decisions put him in such a ridiculous situation. 

“NOT YET” Noah called down. Tommy hated the boy, more than anything. But watching his daughter's hands hold on to the edge and the conviction in his eyes to keep her away from the Roger boy, he had to say it was something he thought only himself capable of at that age. 

The boy climbed into the car causing it to lurch. Tommy instinctively moved forward as if he could somehow catch her. Once the car steadied he didn't need to be there to know what was happening. 

The car moved to the top taking them out of view. 

__________________________________________________

Noah didn't waste any time. His fist mashed against Roger's face what felt like a hundred times. It was quick and the other boy didn't stand a chance. You looked at his hands, red knuckles split open, the way his arms looked with his sleeves rolled up. How he was out of breath, the fact that he did all of that for the worry that a boy might harm you. 

The violence was a part of life in the peaky blinders, and while it was still alarming to you, you knew that if anyone in your family had found out about it later, a story much the same as the one unfolding before you would have been written just the same. 

Same story, but this did something much different to you. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him. Not because you were at the top of a stupid Ferris Wheel, but because he was just so unbelievably hot. 

It was over in seconds and he looked at you causing your heart to stop.

“Fuck” he breathed pushing the hair from his face. “You alright?!” he moved to kneel in front of you, his hands running over you. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” 

You could only sort of hear him as your eyes focused in on his mouth. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close to you slotting your lips together.

You felt his hands grip onto you tightly, causing you to moan. You were happy to be out of view from the congregation of angry parents. Suddenly your mind was filled with all the sorts of things you needed from him, things you’d have to find a way to ask for. He broke the kiss as you realized the ride was coming back down. He sat down next to you, and quickly fixed your top and adjusted the pendant on your necklace. You were grateful that his mind was still functioning, you were in shock that people could make each other feel such things. 

Never in your life had you seen people kiss like that, you didn't know that’s what people felt when they looked at each other. Suddenly you wondered how anyone managed to get anything done. Why get out of bed when you could feel like this? 

________________________________________________________________________

“She’s going to be the death of him,” Alfie whispered. 

“If he - fuck - I swear -” Tommy was too upset to form words. 

“I know. He won’t” Alfie answered back and there was an honesty in his eyes that he trusted. 

“I’d destroy you.” Lizzie put her hand on his arm in warning.

“I know.” 

Tommy gave him a curt nod in response. Then they set in on getting the crowd to disperse. 

“RIDE CLOSED BY ORDER OF THE PEAKY BLINDERS” Arthur called out firing his gun in the air. It wasn't what Tommy would have done, drawing even more attention to the messy situation but once that pink car was down he was grateful everyone had fucked off. 

He assessed the situation carefully, his daughter looked fine, flushed, but okay. His arm was around her and that seemed to be where her focus was. The boy had an impressive red hand, hanging off of her shoulder. 

Once the door was open, he knew exactly who this Roger was, and his father was going to - 

“Drive by tomorrow morning at the paper shop?” Alfie said reading his mind. 

“Bit extreme isn't it? Surely we should go for something more personal?” Lizzie said casually. 

“I’ll call you later,” Tommy answered. He didn’t have to speak or move. She spoke to the boy with a look of affection and then ran to his side immediately. A look of apology was written on her face. 

“We’ll deal with this,” Alfie told him, before giving Noah a look of pride. He would thank him for it later. He put his arm around her and the family all moved out in a unit piling into black cars. 

__________________________________________________

Everyone had gone home, except Polly insisted on staying over. In some ways, you were grateful as your parents were in the study arguing. There was a knock at the door and Polly poked her head in. 

“Oh what’s that face for, got a boy who’s willing to fight for ya.” She gave you a soft smile.

“I feel terrible. I don’t know if he will forgive me.” Tears started to pool in your eyes.

“Noah? Hardly your fault -” 

“Dad.” You corrected her. He couldn't even look at you, the car ride home was spent in silence. He’d shut himself into the study as soon as he got home. After Lizzie knew you were alright she went in after him and they’d been shouting since. Polly snorted.

“Don’t ever worry about Thomas. He worries about himself.” Polly said with an edge to her voice you didn’t like. You watched her face as she thought about it for a moment. “He loves us all the best way he knows how. He’s done things - that none of us should have forgiven him for. But we do because we are family. The same kindness will be shown to you.” She lit a cigarette as if it would chase the unwanted feelings away. “Not that you fucked up at all. You chose to not cause a public scene thinking he would probably just try to chat you up. But that’s the problem with these boys. They think the whole world is being handed to them from their fathers, so they can take as they please.” 

You thought about what she was saying, hoping that it didn’t apply to Noah. 

“Can I bring him over for tea? I want someone to meet him.” You wanted some advice or approval. Bringing him to Polly would be the least stressful, but if Lizzie found out she’d be hurt, Esme would also be pissed. You sighed. 

“Think he’s got you beat love.” You followed where her eyes were focused and saw him climbing up over the balcony railing fighting with the flowing green vines. 

“I’ll leave you two alone then.” She winked at you with a smile. “I’ll try to keep an eye out for your dad” She got up and left you making you feel a whole wave of nerves. You went over to the glass door and opened it. 

“Shit did your aunt see me?” 

“Yeah, she knows. Said she’d give us a bit of space.” You hoped that he wasn’t going to hurt you, that conversation with Polly was definitely unfinished, but she wouldn’t have left you with him if she wasn’t sure that it was alright. 

“Will you be in trouble?” He brushed the foliage off of his clothes giving you a look of concern that erased all of your worries. 

“She said she’d keep an eye for dad.” You shrugged and smiled at him. 

You motioned for him to come in and watched as he looked over your room. Its structure was fit for a princess but it was covered in pictures and postcards from family members as they traveled. Scarves and charms hung from the ceiling, most of them made at Polly’s house. A large brown stuffed bear beside your pillow that Tommy had gotten you for your first Christmas together, a charm that may include one of his stolen cufflinks, and one of Lizzie’s earrings hug directly above your bed watching over you. Most people said it looked like a jungle, but Polly assured you it was a temple worth being proud of. 

“It’s a bit much but erm” 

“It’s great.” He smile at you, and all you could think about was throwing yourself at him. What would you do after kissing? What had he done before you? Your stomach twisted unsure of what his expectations were of you. 

“I called, before I could get a word in he told me to fuck off, then hung up the phone. Wanted to make sure you were alright after everything.” You blushed in embarrassment and also resisted the urge to laugh. 

“Sorry-” 

“It’s alright.” He stopped you before you could start apologizing. You pulled him down to sit on the bed and the two of you started talking about what happened, how his dad handled it, and what you were going to do about the parents. 

He was very considerate, trying to take on the bulk of the responsibility, always checking in for what you wanted from the situation. The more you talked the more you leaned into him. The more you settled against his shoulder the heavier your eyes got. 

__________________________________________________

Polly listened outside the door, for safety of course. Boys were unpredictable in the sense that they were very predictable. After watching the boys in this family cause unspeakable damage she was going to be sure that boy treated her right. 

Listening to his offer to come over tomorrow morning to talk to Tommy, and offering her every possibility under the sun to make things easier on her. He even suggested taking the whole family out for dinner. She responded kindly saying she’d ask her mother what was best. Then he started asking what she wanted out of a relationship with him. 

Polly’s heart gave a painful twitch, it was entirely too personal a conversation to be listening to, but curiosity kept her glued to the spot. There was an innocence that was only possible from young love, but they were handling it much better than she ever did. Talking about all sorts of things rather than running into trouble and heartbreak. After it got very quiet - she risked poking her head in to see them both passed out. She wished she could get a photo, just to keep stashed away. 

Shutting the door, she moved down the stairs to see if Thomas was done shouting his heart out. Putting her ear against the door she could just make out what they were saying.

“If anything happens to her it’s my fault. It’s always my fault.” His voice was thick with a heavy sadness she didn't think him capable of expressing. 

“Leaving her there would have been a life worse than death, I’ve walked both paths, this one is a million times better,” Lizze assured him quietly. 

“Promise me I haven't ruined her life?” He was just above begging, but not by much. Her heart went out to that little boy that wasn't too much younger than her. Sweeter than ever, determined to be better than his father. Realizations set in about him that took him in a different light. 

“Promise,” Lizzie said softly. Polly remembered the way they used to talk to each other and wondered how a mouthy teenager accomplished what saints couldn't. 

“And what if he knocks her up then?” An edge of panic in his voice confirmed that he was indeed thawed out to something close to the man he was before all the madness.

“He’d be no better than you,” Lizzie responded sharply, and Polly hoped they wouldn't start at it again.

“I’m sorry.” He choked on the words. “For all of it, for John, Grace, for Ruby. All of it was me, and I -” He was cut off and a whole commotion of passionate sounds erupted. 

They were going to seek peace in each other in the best way they knew how. Polly moved back upstairs and settled into her room, keeping the door open for any problems. Pouring herself a whiskey she wondered if ever there would be a man for her. Picking up her book she hoped it would keep her own loneliness at bay. 

She stayed up making sure to wake the two of them up to say goodbye before Tommy woke up. The boy awkwardly apologising and stumbling over his thank yous. After he was out the balcony her attention set in on the girl.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“Ah, what are Aunties for eh?” She smiled. “Tea or are we having a lie-in?” 

“Tea,” she said brightly. “We have lots to talk about.” 

Going down to the kitchens, Polly was not surprised to find the contents of Tommy’s office in shambles.

“What happened?!” 

Polly only gave her a look and laughed at the disgusted look her face twisted into. “I think it's best we let them sleep in.” 

______________________________________

More might be planned…. Any Ideas?  

Tags List: @kpopgirlbtssvt

#Peaky blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy shelby #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby x lizzie shelby #Thomas Shelby x Lizze Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Lizzie Stark #Lizzie Stark #Lizzie Shelby #Polly gray #Alfie Solomons #Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons #Noah Solomons

[lucyswinter]

Request guidelines

Requests are : OPEN<3

Masterlist

Who/what I write for:

-Cillian Murphy/ characters: (Jackson Rippner, Tom Shelby, Neil Lewis, Jonathan Crane, Kitten Braden, Jim: 28 days later, Emmett: a quiet place part II, Raymond Leon, Robert Fischer, Tom Buckley)

-Criminal Minds: Spencer Reid, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, JJ,

-The Bear: Sydney Adamu, Richie Jerimovich, Carmen Berzatto, Sugar Berzatto

-Saw: Lawrence Gordon, Adam Stanheight, Mark Hoffman, Peter Strahm, Amanda Young, Jill Tuck, Lynn Denlon (for ships: I’ll do chainshipping, coffinshipping, and shotgunshipping/lynnmanda!)

-American Horror Story (All seasons up to Cult. Only ships if they are canon (by season, I mean)! i.e: I won’t do Kit Walker (s2) x Madison Montgomery (s3) or anything)!

-Nip/Tuck: Sean McNamara, Christian Troy, Matt McNamara, Julie McNamara, Liz Cruz, Eden Lord

-DC villains (from the Nolan trilogy or Gotham tv show! I will specify from which one I mean. I’ll also write Batman but that’s the only hero)

-Peaky blinders: Luca Changretta, Tom Shelby, Alfie Solomons, Finn Shelby, John Shelby, Arthur Shelby, Oswald Mosley

-Top Gun/ Top Gun: Maverick: any characters! (For ships, I only rlly know IceMav 😭 but I’m open to others! I’ll also do penny!reader)

-Bridgerton/ Queen Charolette: Daphne x Simon, George x Charolette, Anthony x Kate, Colin x Penelope (and all of these characters individually!)

-Community: Professor Ian Duncan, Jeff Winger, Abed Nadir, Britta Perry , Annie Edison, Troy Barnes

-Impractical Jokers: Joe Gatto, Sal Vulcano, James Murray, Brian Quinn

-Supernatural: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Destiel (will not do Wincest or Wincestiel)

-X-files: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, MSR

-BBC Sherlock (only JohnLock)

-Good omens (only Ineffable husbands)

-Hannibal (only Hannigram)

(Any other characters im open to! Just PM me to see if I know the fandom/media they’re in, or rec with a few options! I’ll ignore if I don’t know them <;3)

I will write: A bit ooc (depends on scenario 🤭), fluff, smut, small-ish age gap, AU’s, non romantic pairings, alternate endings, fem!/gn!/afab!reader, character x reader, character x character

I won’t write: Male!/nonbinary!/trans!reader (im a cis female so I will write gender neutral reader if requested, but most fics (unless specified) were written with a fem reader in mind :)), incest, underage reader (or character), dub/non-con

Thanks for reading! Feel free to PM requests if you aren’t comfortable sending them through the question button or want to work through the request :)

#fanfic guidlines

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Ink & Rum Raisins (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

(Credits for the images in the moodboard go to their respective owners. The absolutely gnarly Anubis is by @/dugagau (IG))

Genre: Romance, Humour, Modern AU

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Alfie Solomons x Dutch Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12.3K

Warnings: a lot of swearing, Alfie being a gentleman, size kink, unrequited crush/love/lust (or is it? Also, I’m sorry, but the reader, like me, has a thing for older men), allusion to smoking/vaping, allusion to past violence

Summary: Prequel to Mokum Part 1.

Alfie

There was once a little dove, yeah, who found herself in a shithole of a place called Birmingham. Little brave thing that she was, she flew over the wolves living in it, looking for the one she had business with. Now, this wolf, right, was already an older chap, greying and with a bloody bad leg. He was, no, is the King of Camden. Anyways, the little dove found him and the wolf and her agreed upon a contract, according to which he provided his services. He soon found himself rather charmed by her, perhaps because he reminded her of days gone or because she awakened something in him, a reminder of a fantasy he hadn’t dare to fancy in a long time. And that’s why he coaxed the little thing into a deal.

Because he’s a selfish, in her words, bastard.

Caught between vice and virtue, unsure which of the two she is.

Y/N

I had heard the stories about the eccentric Alfie Solomons, owner of King of Camden Ink in London. However, when he announced he’d fulfill a guestspot at Shelby Tattoo Company in Birmingham, there was no way I could pass up the rare opportunity to be tattooed by one of the biggest (though infamous) names in the industry and get myself one of his gnarly yet gorgeous pieces.

In hindsight, if I had to do anything differently, I would have picked any other spot on my body but my thigh, simply to save myself from transforming into a bumbling fool. However, I would happily relive the whole experience even though it was quite... turbulent, to say the least. And, I’ll be honest, Alfie’s a bit of a bastard. Nevertheless, I’d do it all over again.

I wonder if butterflies see the potential danger in roses. The thorns, I imagine, could rip their wings if they come too close. Fancy could be their downfall. Then again, they never live long, do they? 

Author’s Note: Oh my days, it’s at last, the first segment in the behemoth this Alfie Solomons romance has become. This particular story started out as a one-shot, but gradually grew longer and longer up to the point I now have at least enough of a story to write a novella. 

Bloody hell, anyways, I made the reader Dutch because I’ve never seen anyone do that before (mind, I’m willfully ignoring the Dutch fanfiction I’ve come across because it was... not good, and that’s putting it politely) and since I’m Dutch myself and this tale is based upon actual events and conversations, I thought, ‘‘Well, why the hell not?’’

Also, this is the first thing I’ve written and edited since my thesis, so if it sounds rather formal or even academic in places, it might be because of that. I’ve yet to get accustomed to writing fiction again.

But, without further ado, kick back, relax, and enjoy the story.

Monster Masterlist / TH Masterlist

Having jolts of electricity shooting throughout your body and making your hands a bit jittery while your stomach seems to tie itself into a permanent knot is only natural when something exciting is about to happen. And as long as there is coffee nearby, the nerves can be fairly contained. In my personal opinion, that is.

However, when getting tattooed it’s better to not drink coffee before the appointment and let your emotions run wild. Now, I can only confirm for the former it helps the tattooing process because you do not want to start bleeding more than might be the case in a non-caffeinated scenario. The latter, on the other hand, is perhaps worse than a caffeine overdose. What also does not help my current case is entrusting part of my body to a man, regardless of his talent.

Another unhelpful detail is that I am about to go to a shop where practically only men work. Although, if I’m lucky, the two resident female artists have an appointment today too. We don’t have to have a conversation, interact at all, but it would make the environment more pleasant if I’m not the sole feminine presence.

Then again, I suppose I brought this down on myself. When I saw that Alfie Solomons would have a guest spot at Shelby Tattoo Company, I knew I had to get an appointment somehow. A holiday to Birmingham and getting a tattoo by a brilliant artist? Two birds with one stone, count me in.

Alfie has become somewhat of a celebrity in the tattoo community thanks to his art, inspired by various religions around the globe, specifically focusing on its monsters, demons, and other animal symbolism. The designs are gnarly yet awe-inspiring, the blacks stark and each element easily discernible despite the dark ink. For this specific guest spot he noted he’d only do flash and wanna-dos. Fortunately for the both of us, I’m obsessed enough with ancient Egypt to dedicate a part of my skin to the god of its Underworld and the dead.

The skin of my right thigh, to be precise.

And that’s where the problem lies. 

For my other tattoos, I went to a women-run tattoo studio because I’m more comfortable with having a woman tattoo me. That is, of course, not to say all male tattoo artists aren’t to be trusted, because there are genuine sweethearts out there, and that women can’t be predators or walking red flags themselves. I, myself, have simply heard one too many tales of a woman being mistreated by a male tattoo artist to entrust them with the intimacy that comes with getting a tattoo.

Quite a contradiction, innit, considering the fact I’m about to let Alfie, a bear of a man, tattoo my thigh? Let’s call it a leap of faith, spurred on by incredible talent no one else possesses.

A sacrifice of principles in the name of art.

Sounds rather poetic when I put it like that. Better than ‘I want new ink and that Anubis looks fucking awesome. I want it. I’m gonna get it. Don’t care if I’m gonna have to travel.’

Yes, a sacrifice for art. We’ll keep it at that. 

The bus stops on Victoria Street, a small straightforward walk away from Shelby Tattoo Company in Small Heath. Red brick worker’s houses line the wide cobblestone street, the occasional old storefront among them hinting at what the edifice was used as in days past. Stone steps inlaid in a patch of grass lead up to the main street, an older couple descending them. The woman holds firmly onto her husband, her arm looped in his. He, in turn, clutches the railing for dear life. Nonetheless, it’s a sweet sight, an affirmation Love and Romance still exist.

‘‘The destination is on your right. Shelby Tattoo Company.’’

I turn off the navigation and tuck my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. For a second I remain unmoving, merely looking at the handle of the door. 

Breathe in… breathe out. It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be okay. Alright, let’s go!

The mental prep has done little to still the tremble in my fingers, but my racing mind becomes eerily clear when I push the front door open. 

The single step across the threshold must have been noisy or his hearing is like a bat’s because my entrance rouses the bulking figure in the corner of the shop. He’s clad in a white shirt and jeans, his long brown hair tousled and haphazardly slicked back as best as possible. 

The man spins around on his stool, the movement languid and wary. A brief silence settles in, a moment in which we look at each other quizzically. In fact, it might even be safe to say we’re trying to estimate each other, guessing at how much danger hangs in the air.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asks, a note of caution in his Cockney accent as he strokes his beard. 

“I- I have an appointment. W- With Mr Solomons,” I stammer, feeling like a child caught red-handed trying to steal a cookie.

And that immediately shows how much of an actual threat I am

“Ah, Y/N! Shalom!” Alfie rises to his feet and swaggers over, precariously balancing his weight to hide his limp as best as possible. His broad shoulders block out the light as he comes to a halt, a polite distance between us. I tilt my head to look up, mentally cursing my genes for making me a head shorter than him and myself for the flutters of a butterfly storm in my stomach, caused by the height difference. “Welcome.”

He tilts his head and huffs, strangely amused. “I see you’re wearing new pants.”

“How- How’d you know they’re new?”

This is already getting sus. Maybe I should turn tail and run.

“I follow you on Instagram,” he says matter-of-fact and shrugs. “I saw you had a new Story, one about buying pants to get tattooed in.”

“You,” I point at him and then at me, still not registering his words, “follow me? On Instagram?”

“I do,” Alfie casually confirms. “If you don’t believe it, go see for yourself.”

He gestures for me to grab my phone.  “Go on, check.”

My face pales when the follow button turns a light blue and states follow back. 

Oh God, he’s seen my Stories. Seen my cat Stories. All the bullshit I posted.

Alfie leans in, the light providing extra definition to his toned arms, crossed firmly over his chest. “I don’t think you looked like shit. Those jeans look good on you.” The glee of being proven right melts into a curious pondering. “Boyfriend jeans, was it? Yeah… They look good on you.”

What does he mean by that? Is he flirting? Or is he being himself? I mean, I’ve heard he’s a bit eccentric, but what do I do?

Apparently nothing, because my feet are rooted to the spot, my mind erupted into pure chaos with not a single coherent thought thinking of walking out the door. So I remain where I am, still like a statue.

Until Alfie claps his hands. “Right! I won’t lie and say I’m not ecstatic about you picking the Anubis design.” 

He turns around and walks to his station to grab something. After a quick search, he returns with two pieces of paper and his tablet. An expression like water has been poured over him to wake him from a dream passes over his face. A funny contrast with the warm gesture towards the worn leather sofa.“Where are my manners? Please, sit down. Tea? Coffee?”

“Ah, no, thanks. I’ve already had two cups of coffee and I don’t want to turn into a bouncy ball.”

“Water, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I printed the design in two sizes, the original and a smaller one. I think both will work fine, but I’ll leave the decision up to you. Also, I’d like my clients to fill in a form. It’s kind of a dossier, right, only accessible to me of course. It’s due to the new regulations on ink, you know how fond the authorities are of control and paperwork, and to document which ones I used in case you get a reaction. It’s also nice to know, in general, I have your consent to place the tattoo. All you need to do is put your signature on the line at the bottom.” He puts the pieces of paper on the coffee table and carefully hands the tablet and stylus over.

I look over the form, fill in the missing details, and sign the form. In the meanwhile, Alfie pours a glass of water, judging by the sound of an opening and closing fridge from a bottle rather than the tap. 

“Piece of lemon?”

“Pardon?”

“Lemon? Would you like a slice in your water?’’ he patiently repeats, adding playfully, ‘‘It’s wonderfully refreshing.”

“My, what luxury!” I exclaim in a terrible imitation of a posh accent.

“I only want the best for my clients,” he says, though it’s unclear whether he’s serious or playing along. All the same, with a bit of a show, he grabs a cutting board, a knife, and a lemon from the net sitting in the corner of the counter. Sonorously, he hums along with the jazz song that plays over the speaker as he slices the fruit and adds two slices of it to the glass of water.

After washing his hands, he holds out the glass like a butler would. “Here you are, madam.”

“Thank you,” I say, cheeks warm. “Let’s trade. Here’s your tablet back.”

“What’s your email?” he asks after looking over the form. “I’ll send a copy to you. It’s always good to have a backup of important documents like this, innit?”

A brief flash of confusion passes over his face when I tell him the part of my email which contains my last name. Unable to suppress a giggle, I resort to spelling it out to not subject him any further to the difficulties of the Dutch language.

“Hold on, slow down.’’ He mumbles the letters to himself, the stylus making soft tick tick tick sounds. ‘‘Alright, carry on.’’

The last bit is evidently easier to keep up with. Everything noted, he turns the screen to me for a final check. ‘‘That correct?’’

I nod in confirmation

‘‘Alright. Now let me just… there. Sent.’’ The furrow in his brow smoothes out now the paperwork is done. Alfie puts the tablet on the coffee table, sits down and leans back in the chair across from me, thick fingers entwined. ‘‘So that’s how you pronounce your last name?” 

‘‘Yep, but I do admit I anglicised it. In Dutch it sounds like this.’’ With a little mental effort, I temporarily suppress the innate tendency to use English. An effort well-spent since it earns me the joy of the look of utter befuddlement anyone who is not acquainted with my native tongue gets once they hear it.

“Okay, now, see, I did not expect such a last name after hearing you talk.”

  I tilt my head, puzzled. “How’d you mean?”

“Your accent and last name don’t add up. Unless you’re married, but you’re not, are you?”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the mention of marriage. “Where’d you think I’m from?”

“Either Dublin and Belfast, but now I’m leaning more towards the latter.” A mischievous though well-meaning grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “You have a tendency to go down with your intonation and your speech almost has a slight underlying growl like they have in the north. Do you have family there?”

“None. I have no ties to Ireland aside from my travels.”

“Do you mean Ireland as one country or do you make the distinction between the north and south?”

It’s the Republic and the north, but I’ll let it slide.

“Are you asking my opinion on the border?” I ask, a wary tone in my voice.

“I think I already have my answer.” Like a pleased cat, he entwines his fingers only to individually crack them a moment later. “Anyways, let’s not talk about politics. It’s all the same, toffs unable to agree on what they think is a matter of the common people like you and me but is essentially a bureaucratic quarrel that’s nothing to do with the public whatsoever. Sharks eat fish smaller than themselves to survive. Big fucks small always.”

He clears his throat and leans forward. “Have you decided yet?”

“Well…” I start, overwhelmed with thoughts of the various outcomes and permanency of the matter. 

Before I can make an attempt at a proper answer, Alfie picks up on my indecisiveness. “If you want, you can try both. We’ll tape both sizes to your leg and you can tell me which size you prefer.”

“Sounds good,’’ I say, letting out a small sigh of relief. ‘‘First, though, let me put my shorts on. Where’s the restroom?”

He points to somewhere behind me. “Behind the door with the chrysanthemums.”

I stand up, grab the pants from my backpack, and slip into the restroom. It only takes a minute or two to change, but nevertheless I find myself unable to go back out into the studio right away.

I bought these especially for today. Shit, he saw that Story too, didn’t he? And what if other men walk in, be it clients or tattoo artists? What will their first thought be?

A gentle knock on the door violently jolts me back into reality. On the other side, a familiar baritone voice calls out, concern evident in the simple question. “Y/N, you alright?”

“Yeah,” I answer, opening the door a crack and slipping through it, “I’m fine.”

Alfie takes me in, gaze unwavering and expression unreadable. His body also shows no hints eluding to his train of thought. The peculiar investigation ends with a low hum.

What was that? Does- Can he read me like an open book? Is that what he just did?

Without knowing whether he did and hesitant to ask, I let the matter rest. 

We move over to the large mirror covering the wall nearby his station. The tattoo artist makes a brief detour to his station to put on a pair of black latex gloves before sauntering over to kneel down. For a second I wonder what it would be like to cup his cheek, how his beard would feel against my palm as I’d turn his face to make him look up at me.

Part of the fantasy comes true, because he lifts his head. “May I?”

More than a second passes before I register what he means. Then I notice his hands a few centimetres from my thigh, ready to place the first design, the one with the original size. Instead of an answer, too afraid of what might come out of my mouth, I swallow and nod.

With precision, he sticks the piece of paper to my skin, smoothing it out to display its full potential. Smiling proudly, showing his slightly crooked teeth, Alfie rises to his feet and puts his hands on his hips. “What do you think? We could also mirror the design, but that would make Anubis face your…” he vaguely gestures, struggling to find the words that are polite enough. Evidently, he can’t find them, settling for “you know.”

I model the design, twisting my leg this way and that, all the while trying to ignore Alfie standing with his arms crossed in the background. However, there is only so long I can close him out so eventually I search for and meet his eyes via the mirror, furiously trying to hide my nerves under only a half-feigned expression of exhilaration. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to try the other size?”

I turn around, forcing myself to maintain his gaze. “I’m a fairly small person, so I think the size is just right.”

“No mirroring?”

“Nah, let’s keep it classy.”

The low chuckle rising from the depths of his throat ignites a pleasant warmth that spreads throughout my body. “If the lady says so. I’ll get everything ready, so sit back with a snack or, if you want, there’s plenty of time to go outside for a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke, so I’ll go with the former,” I say as I plop down on the worn leather couch.

“That’s likely the better option of the two. Nicotine and tobacco are vices, ones I’m only too guilty of indulging in. Although, I’ve recently switched to vaping. Less stank, less laundry, better for the environment and clients.”

“I don’t mind the smell of cigarettes too much, but I do admit I prefer the smoke of vaping above that of regular smoking. Sometimes it smells quite good, actually. Kinda sweet.”

“Depends on the cartridge. See, like whiskey, yeah, the flavour is dependent on the environment, the way it is brewed. I prefer rum myself, though.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

Alfie turns away from the printer busily cranking out the stencil. “You never had rum?”

I shake my head. “I generally don’t drink, but if I do, I tend to stick to my favourites. Licor quarenta y très, amaretto, limoncello, Guinness, whiskey.”

“Irish or Scottish?”

“Generally Irish.”

“Of bloody course,” he chuckles. “My family has a rum distillery, based near London, but we sell the stuff throughout the country in shops run by family members, of course. There’s one in Birmingham, so if you tell them I sent you, I’ll make sure there’s a bottle ready for you. Free of charge, of course, because it’s the least I can do to save you from that sin.”

“The sin of not knowing the taste of rum?”

“Exactly! When are you leaving England?”

“Tomorrow. And, unfortunately, I only have hand luggage, so there is no way I could take the bottle with me.”

“Hm, that’s too short notice…”

“We can make good on this later? I mean, this isn’t the last time I’ll be in England.” I cross and uncross my legs, feeling rather self-conscious. “Or we could meet at a convention? I don’t know whether you’ll be attending one in Holland any time soon, but-’’

“I’ll be attending the Amsterdam Tattoo Festival in September,” he interrupts me, fortunately saving me from having to finish a sentence I don’t know how to continue. “We could meet then, if you’d like? Or are you planning to go to the London Tattoo Show?”

“Unfortunately, I have to skip that one since I don’t think my bank account will allow it. Especially considering I’m planning to quit my job soon and do some travelling around Scotland and Northern Ireland for about a month, which won’t be cheap.” He mumbles something under his breath in response, the words bleeding into each other to form an incoherent mess. However, the disagreeing tone is a hint that he disapproves of something, whatever it might be. “But I’m planning to go to Amsterdam too, so, could we- we could-’’

Stop being such a coward. Just ask already, for God’s sake! 

“I’d like that,” Alfie cuts in as if he’s read my mind. Stencil in hand, he turns back to me, his features soft. “Gives me plenty of time to make good on my promise.”

We return to his station, a polite distance between us. Alfie sits down on the stool and grabs a disposable razor, which he puts down again with a hint of slight surprise after inspecting my leg. “Already shaven, eh?”

I run a hand through my hair while my stomach quivers. “Yeah. I thought it would be polite. Also, I can’t stand my legs being hairy. My arms neither.”

“I wish more people had that mentality. Then again, humans tend to be selfish creatures,’’ he grumbles while pulling on a new pair of gloves.

“Are there really that many clients who don’t shave?”

“More than you think, darling, but it makes me all the more appreciative of clients like you.”

The ‘darling’ means nothing. Stop being a fucking idiot and don’t get your hopes up. He literally just confirmed you’re just a customer, a source of income.

“Right, before we start, would you like to use numbing cream? We could also use nutmeg oil, if you’d like.”

“Nutmeg oil?”

“It’s completely vegan and helps relieve the pain,’’ Alfie explains. ‘‘It has quite a strong scent, though, so I hope you’re not faint of heart. Or, rather, have a sensitive nose.”

For a moment, I contemplate the options, weighing past experiences against each other. Thus far, line work has never been a problem and blackwork hasn’t been either. “D’you know what? Let’s go without.”

“Tough as nails,” he says with a hint of awe and appreciation. “You’re full of surprises, in’t ya?”

“Am I?”

“So far, yes. A young Dutch woman with a misleading Irish accent wants a gnarly scowling Anubis on her thigh whereas her other tattoos are colourful and less gnarly. One can only speculate regarding her story.” He grabs a big pot with the image of a geisha and red lettering on it, unscrews the lid, and scoops out a dollop of the stuff within to put on the side of his gloved hand. “This is Dragon’s Blood. It helps calm the skin and closes pores. It can be used as aftercare too.”

He screws the lid on again and puts the pot back in place. “May I?”

I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“May I touch your thigh and prep the skin?” he clarifies, his slightly crooked teeth showing.

“Oh, right, right! Yes, of course,” I answer, stumbling over the words and barely refraining from breaking out into a ramble.

Alfie picks up some of the balm with his fingers and leans in to work it into the skin. At first he tries to do it without support, but quickly finds himself struggling a bit. “Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?” he asks, looking up with sincere greyish blue eyes. “It’s easier to work it in if there’s a bit of resistance and support.”

Wow, he has really pretty eyes. But then again, even a rose has thorns.

“Y- Yeah, sure.”

“Are you agreeing because you want to or because you’re feeling intimidated?” 

The question catches me off-guard, its thoughtfulness rendering me speechless.

“Y/N,” Alfie sighs, “I have no ill intentions. I’m a man of honour, one who believes a woman should be treated with the utmost respect. So let me ask you again and I want you to look me in the eye, yeah, as you give me an honest answer. Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?”

“Yes,” I answer, steady. “Yes, it is.”

He grunts in acknowledgment before placing the palm of his other hand on my skin too. 

Though light in touch, the supporting grip nevertheless feels sturdy and the warmth seeping through the latex of his gloves secure. I can vaguely hear myself hum at the thought of holding his hand as we walk through Amsterdam in summer, the temperature still high enough to feel hot and clammy but with the unmistakable first signs of autumn setting in. Halfway through the month, it will become colder, especially at night if you keep the windows open. Then, to have a grip like that on your body, your skin warmed by the friction as the whiskers of a coarse yet soft beard worship it, and a baritone voice in your ear that occasionally falters with pleasure…

The sensation of cold liquid on my skin snaps me out of my reverie. I snap my head down to see where it comes from, only to discover I apparently zoned out and Alfie has cracked on to the stencil stuff.

“Try to relax your leg,” he gently coaxes while trying to apply the stencil.

I take a deep breath and do as he says, forcing my muscles to lose their tension. Although it doesn’t feel like I’m loosening up, I’m apparently doing something right enough to earn myself an oddly prideful whispered “attagirl”. Fortunately, Alfie is blissfully unaware of the fact I heard him and the storm of butterflies the compliment unleashes in my stomach. Nor does he seem to catch on to how badly the pressure of his hands, finally having found the right placement, makes my mind short circuit.

“Go take a look in the mirror,” he says after meticulously peeling the stencil off.

Even the mere outline of the Egyptian god of death looks menacing. Anubis bares his fangs as sharp as daggers, viciously snarling at the viewer. ‘‘Don’t come near me. Don’t even dare to speak to me lest you want me to feed your heart to Ammit’’ he seems to warn. 

It’s absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

‘‘Let’s do it!’’ A skip in my step, I walk back to the massage table, which Alfie has covered with an electric blanket. It has heated to a pleasant temperature, not too low yet not high enough to break out into a sweat. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to say it makes you feel all warm and toasty.

‘‘Well, if the lady truly is ready, then who am I to deny her ink any longer?’’ Alfie says, barely able to suppress his amusement. Nevertheless, it shows in the theatrical attitude in which he continues. ‘‘Before we begin, my lady, may this old chap indeed have the ‘onour of tattooing you?’’

‘‘Yes, indeed you may, mister Solomons.’’

‘‘Marvellous.’’

The bell by the door tinkles as a long-faced, clean shaven young man, in his early to mid-twenties, walks into the studio. His casual step gives away he’s one of the resident artists, lost in thought as he hangs his jacket next to mine on the coat rack. He throws the hood of his black hoodie back to reveal muzzled short brown hair the colour of milk chocolate and runs his hand through it, tousling the locks even further. 

“Why are you so early?” Alfie throws a look over his shoulder at the newcomer. 

The question seems to catch the other man off-guard, the pensive expression on his boyish face fading into surprise. “I have an appointment, half sleeve, Japanese style. It’s going to be a koi pond.”

“Right,” Alfie scoffs. “I hate koi fish. Can’t stand drawing them, right, because it’s always the same composition, the same old story.”

“Is that really your reason?” the other asks as he approaches and comes to a halt a step away from where I’m lying. A whiff of fresh cologne hits my nose, mixed with the indescribable smell of rain.

“Nah, mate. I don’t really have a ‘reason’. Simply hate the fuckers. I prefer things that have a bit more life to them, a higher intellect that prevents them from smacking their lips like eternal gluttons. Gluttony is a sin, you know.” Alfie perks up as if he’s remembered something and shifts his attention back to me. “Right, this here is Michael, a show-off.”

So that’s Michael Gray. Strange, I thought he’d be older and more… tough, rough-looking, instead of a lad I could easily cross paths with at the bookshop. In fact, wait, didn’t I see him at Waterstones yesterday?

“Just because you don’t do Japanese-’’ Michael starts, but Alfie cuts him off.

“And a bloody pacifist.”

“I saw your work on Instagram.” To delay or, rather, hopefully stop a fight from breaking out between the two, I speak up before the two can continue catfighting. “It’s really cool. I’ve started warming up to the Japanese style because of your designs.”

Cheeks flushed, he rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. You know, if you ever have an idea, send it my way.”

Alfie rolls his eyes, which earns him a venomous glare from Michael. “This is how you hold a proper conversation instead of being a cunt.”

“You see, the problem, right, is that so many people have said I am a cunt I don’t fucking care. Because they were all hypocrites, yeah. So, Michael, who’s the real one here, eh?”

My gaze flits from one man to the other while I tense up, ready to jump off the table and run for the hills if the situation worsens. And it’s likely it will because each man seems more than ready to lash out at the other. 

Although I don’t think he’ll notice, I shake my head at Michael. Among the two, he is the most approachable and likely to listen at the minute, so I mentally cross my heart and pray he notices my silent plea to stop fighting. Although it’s Alfie who started it, I wager Michael is mature enough to walk away. At least for now. Afterwards, both men are free to tear each other to pieces.

Fortunately, he sees me. Lips pulled into a straight line, Michael skulks off to his own station, glowering.

Thank God.

I take a couple of deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat. That was a close call, too close.

“Bad blood?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘‘I don’t mean to pry.’’

“Ah, the boy’s just cross ‘cause Tommy and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. Chap adores him. A little too much, if you ask me, but someone’s got to be the good little soldier, right?” Alfie checks the set-up once more to ensure everything is in place. Now that the threat of imminent conflict has proven false, he, too, relaxes. The tenseness in his muscles fades, his body loosening up. His shoulders lower and he unclenches his jaw, releasing the strain on it.

The last remnant of sharp biting sarcasm has evaporated when he turns back to me, gloved hands in his lap. “Comfy?”

“Incredibly so. I could curl up and take a snooze.”

“That would make my job easier.” He picks up the wireless tattoo machine from the tray, eyes still trained on me, watching out for any withdrawal of consent. “May I?”

I nod, allowing him to touch and stretch the skin. “Okay, let’s first do a line, yeah, to see how it feels. Ready?”

“Yep.” Sheepishly, I give him a thumbs-up.

Alfie shakes his head, chuckles and murmurs something under his breath before he sets to work. 

Every time you get new ink you tend to think you can still remember the feeling of being tattooed and instantly adjust. However, the opposite is true, at least for me. At first, it’s an unpleasant nagging sensation like someone is dragging a sharp-edged though blunt object to and fro over your skin. This only lasts for a few seconds and then gradually fades to an oddly therapeutic feeling that is near impossible to describe. Yes, I’m being poked by multiple needles constantly yet it doesn’t hurt. I wouldn’t say it’s enlightening, but it is calmingly enough to stop the on-going flow of various thoughts which consist of everything at the same time. Tattooing brings order in the chaos and is the best therapy out there. 

“How’s that?” Alfie asks.

“Good. Well, I mean, it’s like my cat has its claws in my thigh and by this time, I’m used to that.” I let out a sheepish giggle, only to mentally slap myself in the face for being awkward.

“What’s its name?”

“I have two, actually. One is called Saul and the other Solomon. Not really names you’d expect for a cat, but they’re big.” I try to indicate the size of them with my hands, my heart skipping a beat as he takes a second to pay attention. “Big lads.”

“Solomon was a prophet according to the Talmud, a man of great wisdom and power. Now, Saul was the first king of Israel. Great man, too, who knew that he who lives by the sword, dies by it. I suppose Anubis knew this too, weighing hearts and deciding who gets to go on a boat trip to the underworld or eaten alive. Well, as alive as a spirit can be.”

“Unfortunately, the boys haven’t a sliver of wisdom between them, unless it concerns the knowledge of being charming enough to earn themselves a treat. However, they’re bloody powerful if the need to cuddle strikes. They’ll literally attempt to take me hostage, regardless of what I’m doing at that very moment. But on a different note, it sounds like you know a lot about religion.”

“I tried theology in university, but that didn’t get me far. Doesn’t help I had a couple fights with some Italian kids, Catholics, who saw themselves above a Jew. The last one that saw me kicked out was perhaps my most brutal.” For a second he seems to continue the story, but thinks better of it at the last minute. Instead, a low grunt rises from his throat. “Yeah, definitely the most brutal, that one was.”

Though he tries to move past the topic, I’m not quite ready to let it go. Being a curious cat isn’t particularly a good thing to be when it comes to people because it can go both ways once they realise you’re after a piece of their story. Nevertheless, my curiosity is peaked and therefore I can't help myself. “I’m glad the fights in the classroom remained at heated debates. But, um, and I don’t mean to pry, but how did that fight go? The final one, I mean.”

If I don’t get an answer, it’s fine. I won’t push. Nevertheless, I eagerly hold out hope to get the story out of the enigmatic mister Solomons.

Alfie.

Don’t blush! Take a sip of water, cool down. My God, is even his name now getting me hot under the collar?

He pauses and sits up. A tentative smile builds on his lips as his brows furrow. 

“Only if you want to, of course.”

“Do you really wanna know? Ladies should be spared the violence of the world.” The lines in his face deepen, the expression changing to a frowning grimace.

“It can’t get any worse than Jack the Ripper.” He blinks a few times, letting my comment sink in. In the meanwhile, I bite my lip, desperate to find a way to redeem myself. “What? Am I weird for being intrigued by the case? I am, aren’t I? You know what, don’t mind me. Guess I’m being rather silly.”

“No, you’re not. I’m simply surprised the little lady harbours a fascination with the obscene,” he answers, his tone devoid of any form of judgement.

“Don’t get a lot of those clients?”

“None who admit it outright.”

“Well, here I am.”

“So you are.” His eyes are fully focused as he gazes at me, which does about as little to lower my racing pulse as the comment that follows. “I wonder what else goes on in that head of yours.”

“It’s chaos, to be honest. I don’t think you actually wanna know. Anyways, the fight.”

“Right,” he murmurs, his eyes still trained on me and trying to imagine what goes on in my head. Needles cleaned and dipped in ink again, he returns to work and tells the story. “I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian. I pushed his face up against a trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking-’’ the snarl on his lips vanishes as he throws me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I shouldn’t swear in the company of a lady.”

“I don’t mind. You’re literally saying this to someone who has the mouth of a sailor.”

The remark is a small comfort to him. Alfie visibly relaxes, his posture loses most of its tension and his jaw slackens. “Right, I shoved a six-inch nail up his nose and I hammered it ‘ome with a duckboard.” The corners of his mouth curl into a sly grin. “It was fucking biblical.”

“Fucking hell, yeah, okay, now I’m really glad I only have had to deal with debates. Jesus.” I shake my head, caught between believing the story and finding it too far-fetched. “Why, though?”

“He had it coming. Little fucker was harassing girls of the nearby Jewish community. They mightn’t been part of mine, but it’s never right to mistreat a woman. So, one day, I caught him doing it again and made sure he’d be a wiser man for it.”

“Did you get caught?”

“I got arrested for ‘grievous bodily harm’, but didn’t go to jail considering I was still a young chap. And, to be honest, from a well-connected family.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Dang.”

“I’m not as violent as I used to be. It’s all behind me now,” he blurts out, pausing again while the words rush to fill a non-existent gap between us. “No more fights, gangs, or firms. Starting tattooing was me turning a new leaf.”

I don’t know what to say, unable to think of anything appropriate while also trying to figure out his intentions. So I merely stare at him, blankly. 

His eyes flit from me to the ink pots and back to me, likely feeling equally as awkward. 

Neither of us initiates further conversation, me partially because I’m starting to doze off. That is, until Alfie stops and throws me a look. “I’m almost done with the linework. You’re still okay?”

“Yeah, no pain at all,” I say, a slight taper in my voice and half asleep. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” he replies, a little unsteady as well. “Let’s finish it and ‘ave a little break, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“It’s good to have something to occupy yourself with outside work.” Alfie saunters over to where I’m sitting on the worn leather couch and puts a plate on the coffee table. On it, golden brown raisin buns are stacked in a charming little heap. “Want one?”

“Wait, you made these?” I put my phone away, conscious to neither cross my legs or rest my arms on my thighs as I lean in. My friends will have to wait a little longer on a tattoo update.

“I did,’’ he says, sitting down where he sat earlier today. ‘‘Learned the baking trade from me mum who learned it from her mother, my babushka.”

“You have Russian heritage?”

“I do. My mother fled to England during the Holocaust. My old man was running a distillery and was willing to take her in. In a sense, they saved each other. She got him off the drink… for a time, and kept the books. He taught her English and gave her a ‘ome.” He leans back in his chair, fingers entwined. “Yeah, funny that, how such horror can bring souls together.’’

“Did they survive the war? Like, no interference from the Nazis or fascists?” I stiffen when it hits me how intrusive the question is. Badly concealing my panic, I hastily add. ‘‘You don’t- You’ve already told me so much, so, uhm, you- you don’t have to tell me anything else.’’

“They did,” he nods sagely, ignoring my anxious outburst. “Though I’m glad they don’t have to deal with current affairs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. They’ve been dead for a while, died in their sleep, two months between them. Regardless of the war and England’s policy towards anyone that isn’t one of them, they’ve lived a good life. It was simply their time to go.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “What about you?”

“How’d you mean?”

“How’s your family?”

“Not particularly close. I try to avoid father’s side of the family at all costs because they’re these posh- toffs, I think you call them in English. Though, that’s more my father’s sister. His brother is an alcoholic and divorcee with a midlife crisis that’s bigger than my father’s. On mother’s side of the family, I’m only close with my aunt and grandpa. With my mum I try to connect at times, but it’s more like friendly co-existence.”

“Any siblings?”

“A younger sister. Not particularly close with her either.” I shake my head and take a sip of water. “But I don’t mind. I’ve learned how to be a lone wolf and accepted being one. Working, studying, and travelling help with that too. They’re likely the only things preventing me from going insane.”

“Insanity is a gift only given to few. The greatest minds were lonely even in company, the greatest visionaries those that had seen the world by themselves.” Our eyes lock, the strange but tender sentiment in his adding to the sweet comfort of his conclusion. “I think we’re both mad.”

Alfie nods to the plate with buns. “The raisins have been soaked in rum, family recipe. Try one.”

“Are they poisoned, Solomons?” Michael remarks across the room. Judging by the venom in his tone, he hasn’t moved past the conflict earlier.

They’re really gonna cut each other once I’ve left, aren’t they?

“Unlike you, kid, I actually provide service. People have bonded over food for centuries and God gave me the brilliant idea, yeah, to make these buns to share.”

“You never share food. Not with me, at least.”

“That’s because I don’t want a bond of any sort with you, mate.“ He picks up the plate and holds it out to me. “But I’ll always be glad to share with a peer.’’

“Thank you,” I say, though I can’t prevent myself from saying his name, “Alfie.”

Smiling brightly, he leans back in his chair. “My pleasure. But what is it that kills the time for you?”

“Believe it or not, but I sew,” I say while nibbling on the sweet bun.

“An affinity with needles, eh?”

Unable to suppress it, I give into the uncharacteristic urge to giggle. “You could put it like that, yeah.”

“It’s rather broad, though, ‘sewing’, innit? What am I to envision?”

“I make plushies, really bloody adorable ones.” I grab my phone and look up a picture of my latest project: a whale shark made with white, very fuzzy teddy and Delft Blue-printed cotton. “Don’t tell me that isn’t cute.”

I turn the screen to Alfie. The eager confidence doesn’t last because the tingle travelling through my chest, which seems to be weighed down by a heavy stone, ends in a chill down my spine. With bated breath, I nevertheless wait for a sign of his approval.

What the fuck am I doing? He’s a grown man. What would he care for a stuffed animal?

An ache starts at the back of my throat at the thought that follows.

I did post that picture on an Insta Story. Did he see it, though? What if he did? No, he did, didn’t he? I’m repeating myself. Why am I repeating myself? He’s had enough of a look.

However, as I make to put my phone away again, Alfie speaks up. “It’s well-made, especially for an early attempt at the craft. You can see it’s made with passion.”

Fuck, he definitely saw my sewing shenanigans on Insta.

“You already saw that picture, didn’t you?” I respond, mildly sarcastic regardless of his kindness.

“Well, we already established we follow each other and I like to get to know my clients as best as possible. So, yeah… yeah, I did.”

Gaze averted to the floor, I shut the screen off and continue to stare at my shoes, feeling like a stupid lovesick teenager.

  “But it’s indeed adorable. You’ve got a knack for the trade.” His features soften when I raise my head, though there’s a hint of mischief in the raised eyebrow. “You’re no seamstress, though. Or are you?”

“If you want, I could mend your clothes,” I blurt out, the words spilling forth before I can give them a second thought. “Oh Lord, I- I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry, I should’ve-’’

 Alfie’s hearty laugh cuts through my poor attempt to try and justify my idiotic bravery. “Fucking ‘ell. I had a feeling you’re not the type to beat around the bush, but that was more forward than I thought you’d be.”

“Please ignore what I said.” I stuff the last of the bun into my mouth, lest it should blabber any more nonsense, and wave a dismissive hand.

Only to nearly choke at his response.

“Why? I like it, this honesty. Now, see, Tommy, yeah, he likes to beat around the bush and it’s absolutely doing my nut in. I’ve told him before I’ll shoot him if he doesn’t hurry up and quit his little games. Man really needs to learn how to directly make his point, saves both parties involved a lot of trouble. But not you.” His tone turns pensive, the words clear yet strange. “Curious, that. How a little dove flies over the wolves.”

I remain quiet, because no reaction I come up with seems adequate to respond to his reverie. So we let an oddly comfortable silence settle in, lined with the addicting sweetness of rum raisins.

“These are really bloody good,” I say after a while, pointing at the plate on the coffee table. ‘‘We have buns like this back home too. We call them ‘krentenbollen’, which would roughly translate to ‘currant buns’.’’

‘‘Say that again.’’

‘‘What, ‘krentebollen’?’’ Evidently I hit the nail on its head, judging by Alfie struggling to imitate my pronunciation, silently mouthing the syllables. “Kren.”

“Kren.”

“No, no, ‘ren’. A pronounced, not rolled ‘r’ and short and sharp ‘e’. Like in ‘cigarette’, the final ‘e’ sound. Kren.”

“Kren,” he echoes.

“Ten. ‘En’ is pronounced with a schwa.”

“Ten.”

“Bol. With a clear ‘l’.”

“Bol.”

“Len. Again, a clear ‘l’ and a schwa.”

“Len.’’ Having been given an example of how to pronounce each syllable, Alfie tries out the word again, brow furrowed in concentration. ‘‘Kren. Ten. Bol. Len.”

A warm fuzzy feeling spreads throughout my body while watching him sincerely make an effort to mimic the Dutch sounds despite the struggle it proves to be. However, I do have to give him credit for his attempt because, despite his slightly wonky pronunciation, it’s better than some others I’ve heard. 

‘‘Kren- Krentenbollen.’’

“‘Ey, there ya go!” I clap my hands, smiling in satisfaction. ‘‘That was really good!’’

“Dutch is a funny language. Very strange and harsh.”

“Apparently, it’s the scientifically proven hardest language to learn. I’ll be honest, even the Dutch sometimes don’t know how to speak it. The grammar is whack too, sometimes. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you can teach me some more next time we meet.” His eyes go from the buns to me, beaming. “I’ll bring you some more krentenbollen.”

‘‘Nah, these are better. In fact, I think I prefer these. Much more exclusive, an English delicacy.’’

Can I get any more lame? What kind of comment was that?

“Help yourself, but be quick about it because we need to get back to work. You’ve been sitting like a rock and I don’t want your adrenaline to run out just yet.”

“I’ll leave it for later then.”

He rises from his seat, throwing an imposing shadow over me as his shoulders block the light. “Before we resume, do you want anything? You still got enough water?”

“I’m good to go, though I wouldn’t say no to another glass.”

“One round of Solomons Lemon Water, coming right up.”

As before, Alfie puts care into the simple act of cutting a lemon and adding a slice of it to plain water. And with the grace of a gentleman, he holds it out to me. “A glass of water for the little lady. It’s on the house.”

Whilst the comment is in jest, a funny thought sets my cheeks ablaze. “Th- Thanks.”

What the fuck was that stutter? By Jaysus, pull yourself together! He’s only joking, playing around. It means nothing. Nothing! Besides, he likely has a wife, good-looking and charming as he is.

Glass in hand, I follow Alfie back to the table and clamber back onto the cosy electric blanket while he completes the last preparations to continue the session.

“Comfy?” he asks once I’ve settled in.

“Extremely.”

“Good.” He restarts his tablet, the screen lighting up with Anubis’s snarling face. A new pair of gloves on, he grabs the black pot with red lettering and scoops up a blob of Dragon’s Blood with his pinky before he sets it back in place. 

“May I?” Alfie asks, hands a few centimetres from my skin.

I nod, giving him the permission to resume working. 

Except, he doesn’t.

He pushes his stool back slightly and purses his lips. “Y/N, I need you to relax, yeah. Tense muscles aren’t particularly tattoo friendly. If I start working now, it’s like tattooing a stone and needles, right, don’t do well with hard surfaces.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, inhaling and exhaling deeply in hopes of unravelling the tightness in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What’s on your mind? Something funny?”

“Ah, it’s fine. No worries.”

Don’t mind me. I’m being silly, interpreting things the wrong way. Besides, I’m likely half your age. Unsuitable, undesirable for a man like you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” My breath tapers, which I hope he doesn’t pick up on. Then again, Alfie has proven to be a very perceptive man thus far. Nonetheless, a girl can hope. ‘‘I’m okay.’’

Please believe that. At least this once.

He lets out a low displeased grunt, blueish grey eyes dark with lingering worry. “If you say so.” He averts his gaze to the unfinished snarling Anubis, the sternness in his voice blurring into resignation. “Can I?”

I hum in response, giving him the sign he still has my consent.

And to keep up appearances a little longer.

Because when you’re crushing hard on someone you can’t have, it’s okay not to be okay.

It’s not unusual for other tattoo artists to pop by their colleagues to see what they’re working on. Normally I wouldn’t mind it, proud to be a canvas for someone else’s art. Nonetheless, this time, I wish it was someone else other than the resident Japanese style artist sauntering over. Anyone would do. 

Tommy, who came in around two to do a touch-up.

Finn, who’s the youngest in the team and does geometric designs. 

Even Arthur, who Alfie immediately sent away when he felt me tense, genuinely afraid of Cerberus personified, would be better.

Unfortunately, it’s Michael, which means the two might break out into a fight soon. It’s only a matter of time.

“Wow, that looks gnarly.” Maintaining a polite distance, Michael leans in to inspect the fearsome god of the afterlife.

“Oi, don’t you have your own client to look after?” Alfie asks, the first ripples of irritation already noticeable in his voice.

“She’s too busy taking pictures and whatever else she’s doing on her phone.” Michael points over his shoulder at his client and shrugs. I turn my head, doubting how bad the girl’s company can be. She is indeed absorbed in her phone, posing like most girls on Instagram and making all the familiar facial expressions. To keep things polite, let’s say that a tattoo isn’t what she came here for.

I scoff. ‘‘I see she’s one of those.’’

‘‘That’s one way to put it,’’ Michael sighs, but his expression brightens as he changes the topic. “What made you get Anubis?”

“Give the lady some space, treacle. You’re not yet drooling over her like some lovesick puppy. We’re trying to create a bloody masterpiece here, right, and art, yeah, art needs effort, focus, and attention.” A grimace treks over Alfie’s face, foreboding like a black cloud forms the prelude to a storm. “None of which I can muster with you around, mate. So off you go.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Go on, fuck off.”

“The fuck’s your problem, Alfie?” Michael raises his voice.

Oh Lord, here we go.

“My problem?” Fortunately, Alfie turns the machine off and puts it to the side because getting tattooed amidst a fight is the last thing you’d want. Unless you’re a lunatic. “My problem right now, mate, is that I have a massive disturbance in my work environment which prevents me from providing Y/N with splendid service and proper care.”

“‘Proper care?’” the other man echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Now that’s an awfully ambiguous statement, even for you. Proper care… Is that why you didn’t go on your usual vape break?”

“Don’t twist my words, kid. It should be an honour for a tattoo artist that someone is willing to wear their art on their skin. Y/N is doing me that honour so of course I wanna treat her right.”

“Alfie Solomons, the King of Camden,’’ Michael sneers. ‘‘The Jewish gentleman from Margate.” 

“It’s never a bad idea to be a gentleman, kid. Hasn’t your mother taught you how to treat women properly? Then again,” a mean gleam lights up stormy grey eyes, “she did abandon you, didn’t she?”

Michael is positively fuming by now, looking red in the face and fists shaking with an eagerness to throw the first punch.

“Lads! That’s enough!” I bark, propping myself up on my elbows. “Alfie, that’s a fucking low blow and you know it.”

“How do you know it is?”

Is he fucking serious?

“Look at him!” Lips pulled back into a snarl not unlike Anubis’s, I point at Michael. “Obviously that fucking hurt.”

“So the little dove flew down, still not afraid. Although, her wings waver ever so slightly, don’t they?”

I gaze blankly at Alfie, puzzled by the comment, but quickly return to raging. “Shouldn’t you apologise or something? Or is that something men don’t do to each other?”

“Y/N,” I hear Michael mumble next to me, a tone of surprise in his voice.

“Fucking apologise or I’m out, tattoo finished or not.” I look him up and down, barely able to suppress the urge to spit in his face. “I thought I booked a professional, not some… some fucking bastard.”

“I’m a bastard?” he scoffs.

“People who attack others by using their personal lives? Yeah, that’s one of the definitions of ‘bastard’ for me.”

Both men are quiet, startled by my interference. They exchange glances, neither of them helping the other with their confusion. However, Alfie tries to solve his by making an effort to make amends. For the time being, that is.

“Right,” he begins, struggling to sound genuine. “My sincerest apologies, kid.”

“A little more honest,” I grumble.

“I shouldn’t have brought up your mother, kid. Clearly it’s still an open wound and you don’t need salt in it.”

Wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but whatever, it’s Alfie Solomons.

I shift my attention to Michael. “Please accept his apology, at least for now. I don’t want any more fights during my therapy session. You can rip each other to shreds after I’m gone, okay?”

A careful smile tugs on the corners of Michael’s lips. “Then I will, if only to not completely ruin your ink therapy. Seriously, though, Alfie’s not the only one who should apologise. So, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my behaviour. A client should never be put in the crossfire of a dispute which doesn’t concern them. Can you accept mine?”

“Afraid of me ripping you to shreds?”

“Uhm, maybe?’’ He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks rosy. ‘‘You do get kinda fearsome when you get angry.”

“The thick Irish accent doesn’t help, either,” Alfie chimes in. “If someone’s accent deepens, especially if it’s Irish, you better run.”

“How can you possibly be afraid of me? I’m a head shorter than you. I think you can easily have me.” I search Alfie’s expression for signs he’s lying yet end up empty-handed. The second thereafter, however, a surge of heat spreads through my body as the possible implications of my comment run through my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my wrists while trying to get comfortable again on the rather hot blanket. Or does it merely feel like that because I’m a mess? “Take me on, I mean. Have me is… ehm… It’d be easy to overpower, no, ehm, win? Win against me!”

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Michael says, hardly containing his amusement. Then he turns around and returns to his station. Along the way, he stops to explain the situation to the girl, who miraculously has managed to put her phone away for a second and show worry like a normal human being.  

“I really need to learn to shut the fuck up,” I groan as I lie down again, a bit calmer. “Please forget everything I said.”

“Including your tantrum?” Alfie asks, a lopsided smirk on his lips.

“Just remember the apology part. Maybe the bastard one too.”

“If the lady so wishes.” His hands hover over my thigh, the machine still turned off in his left. “Can I?”

I nod, unwavering in my willingness to give him my consent. Perhaps others would have left, but I choose to remain because of the shallow reason he’s at least good to me.

Even if he’s not for me.

Funny thing, innit, Love?

A silence broken up by the whirring of needles settles in. The only other noise in the studio comes from the Bluetooth speaker, continuously playing jazz tunes. It’s the first time to hear the music genre in a tattoo studio since everywhere I’ve been before they seem to prefer hard rock and soft metal. I wonder whether it has contributed to their reputation as ‘the gentlemen of the Birmingham tattoo industry’ or it is simply because the oldest of the Shelbys are at work today. 

“Y/N?” Alfie wipes off the excess ink and dips his needle in one of the little pots besides him.

“Hm?” I turn my head to face him.

“I’m sorry.” Though lacklustre compared to the apology to Michael, the words are sombre with pure remorse and don’t need reiterating.

“No more fighting, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Hey, by the way, what did he mean with you skipping your Vape-’’

“Tell me more about your cats,” Alfie suddenly demands, tone harsh and his gaze not straying from his project. 

“Wha-’’

“Your cats,’’ he repeats, losing his temper. ‘‘Tell me about them.”

What’s gotten into him? Did I do something?

“Uhm, well,” I haphazardly begin, unsure what to tell him. “They are absolute cuddle bugs. They’ll literally go to any length to make me stop whatever I’m doing and give them attention.”

Don’t panic. Don’t cry. Be brave, just like before. He won’t hurt me… I hope.

Alfie closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, forcing himself to calm down. “Men are jealous creatures, especially when a woman is involved.’’

“Was that also the case with the Italian?”

 “No, that was a matter of common decency.”

“The situation just now?”

He lets out a sonorous noncommittal sound, holding the middle between a disagreeing grunt and acknowledging hum. There is no way to know for sure nor is there a chance to ask because he changes the topic, clearly wanting to let the matter rest. “You’re still doing fine?”

“Is there a chance I can get another glass of Solomons Lemon Water?” I ask carefully, the hairs on the back of my neck still raised.

Alfie looks up, eyes warm and a soft smile forming beneath his bushy whiskers. “Always, darling.”

Amidst a storm of butterflies is a prematurely broken heart.

The remainder of the session remains calm, the conversations between us few. In fact, the only time he speaks up is to comment on how astounding it is I’m like a rock whereas people getting tattooed in the same spot might be having a hell of a tougher time. I merely shrug in response and blame it on my high pain tolerance.

Strange, how much more one can bear physically than mentally. 

Although the fight earlier hasn’t affected the amiability between us, we both unanimously agree to settle for the comfortable silence we seem to create together. Occasionally, he sonorously hums along to a song when not glancing up to look for any signs of discomfort. Each time, I give him a drowsy lazy smile, still as tranquil as the minute before.

“Alright,” Alfie turns off the machine and claps his hands. “You’ve got Anubis looking over you from now on.”

I let out an involuntary yawn, quickly clasping my hand over my mouth to hide. “I’m so sorry. I was literally on the verge of taking a nap.”

“That’s better than fainting,” he chuckles. 

“Does that happen a lot?”

“More than you think, darling.” A piece of paper towel in one hand and a blob of foam in the other, Alfie patiently waits for me to give him the green light.

Which I, again for the same vain reason, do. However, this time it’s bittersweet because it means it’s almost time to go, to let the long moment of pure relaxation and fun come to an end.

To say goodbye to yet another man I find myself fascinated by despite better judgement.

His touch is light as he applies the foam on the tattooed skin, his movement slow as he wipes it off with the paper towel.

“Now that’s gnarly, innit?” Alfie beams while disposing of the used towel and his gloves.

“It is,” I agree, bending my leg to get a proper look at the piece. “And I fucking love it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He gets up, walks around the table to my right side and holds out his hand. “Can we take a picture for Instagram? If the lady wants to, of course.”

“Of course, Mr Solomons.” He grows still, unmoving like a statue, while an indecipherable expression flashes over his face. I swallow hard, but my mouth remains dry. “Did- Did I say something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “No, not at all. Forgive this old soul. You get tired faster with age.”

“You still look fairly young to me.” I place my hand in his big open palm, the skin rough and calloused. His warm thick fingers easily envelop mine.

Stop dreaming.

“Just wait until you’re in your forties.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-three and already complaining about my back. My colleague and I wager we’ll be needing a walker by the time we’re thirty.”

Alfie lets out a hearty laugh. “Fucking ‘ell, lets hope not.”

We come to a halt in front of a brick wall, surrounded by tall lights. “Now, you stand there, in front of it, and I’ll make sure we get pictures nice enough to put in a frame.”

I lean against the cold bricks as he takes care of the set-up, shooing Finn and Michael out of the way and throwing a warning glance at Arthur even though he’s sitting with his back to us, immersed in designing. The only one allowed to come close is Tommy, whose beautiful icy blue eyes meet mine.

Awkwardly, I shift my weight from one leg to the other only to right myself and clasp my hands behind my back. It does nothing to help escape his scrutinising gaze. If anything, it has only worsened how self-conscious I feel.

What kind of stance is this? Fuck, I’m wearing shorts.

“That’s a nice piece of art, Alfie.” I try my best to resist the urge to flinch as the studio’s owner approaches to admire the piece up close, crouching down a polite distance away from me.

“Yeah, it is, innit?” Alfie agrees, switching on the lights. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re in the shot, mate.”

Without another word, Tommy gets to his feet and throws me one last pondering look before setting off to his station. 

In the meanwhile, Alfie has lumbered over and crouched down in front of the lights, phone in hand. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

He takes a few shots, gives out a few instructions, and beckons me over to check them afterwards. Slowly he flicks through the images, his thumb slowly swiping over the screen. Had it been any other person, I would have paid attention and helped with deciding which picture looks the best regardless of minor differences. However, the musky scent of oud wood mixed with dark vanilla and the proximity of his large warm body, makes it hard to concentrate on anything but the man next to me.

“… one?”

“Hm? Sorry, what?” As if woken up out of a dream, I blink and look quizzically at the man next to me.

“I asked which photo you think is best,” Alfie calmly explains.

“Oh, uhm, well, the first one? I think that one was already good. Fine. You know what I mean.”

He’s in his forties, maybe twice your age. There’s no chance whatsoever. Don’t be such a bumbling idiot and pull yourself together.

“I’ll send them all to you later so you can look through them again.’’

“You really don’t have to-’’ I begin to protest, but find myself cut off by his determination.

“It’s no trouble. We created a bloody masterpiece, didn’t we?” Alfie’s face lights up. “So I’ll let you do the honours of picking the best representation of what we’ve accomplished.”

“Th- Thank you.”

Our eyes meet for a moment, a few seconds in which he takes me in for a reason I can’t fathom. Nor do I get a chance to think about what it might be since he quickly moves back to the topic of business. “Let’s wrap up your leg, eh?”

We return to his station, where he cuts off two pieces of Second Skin. He carefully layers them onto the tattoo after being granted his silent request for permission to touch me. An image of him grabbing my thigh and placing it over his hip while we’re in the sheets flashes by when he applies pressure to ensure the derma foil properly sticks to the skin.

Get your mind out of the gutter! Gods damn it, what the hell’s wrong with ye?

“Y/N, you alright? You’re looking rather red in the face, darling.”

“Yeah!’’ I blurt out, sounding annoying and loud to my own ears. ‘‘Yeah, I’m fine. Let me, ahm, let me just put my pants back on and we’ll- I’ll- yeah… be right back.”

I hasten to the sofa, grab my jeans out of my backpack and rush into the restroom. Carefully, I wriggle out of my shorts and into the loose-fitting jeans, only to recall his comment about the fit.

Was he imagining me wearing one of his jeans? Nah, he’s a professional, he wouldn’t do that.

My vivid imagination, on the other hand, thinks it’s perfectly fine to conjure up yet another intimate image of Alfie’s defined inked arms firmly wrapped around me, a slow but proud smile on his lips, nose buried in the crook of my neck, and me indeed wearing his jeans.

Snap. Out. Of it!

The mirage fades like sand blown away by the wind. I take a few deep breaths to ground myself and step back into the studio.

Alfie’s sitting in the chair opposite the sofa. As soon as I step out of the restroom, he turns in his seat, eyes futilely searching for mine. It surely isn’t the first time it’s happened he’s had a client fawning over him, considering his looks. Nonetheless, I refuse to acknowledge nor allow myself to show him how he affects me. So, still avoiding his gaze, I plop down across from him on the sofa, tuck the shorts back into my bag and fish out my wallet. 

Fully focused on the notes in it, I lean in. “So, how much do I owe you?”

As a response, thick fingers firmly wrap around my wrist. I flinch at the contact, caught between surprise and alarm since he hasn’t touched me today without asking. Certainly not as forcefully as now.

A fact he acknowledges when he explains himself, retracting his hand. “I know I haven’t asked permission, but I wanted you to look at me and ask if you’re alright. You were in there for a bit.”

“I’m okay, Alfie.”

“Something tells me you’re not, darling.” He tilts his head, brows furrowed whilst he strokes his beard. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate. This topic, at least.”

Especially since I’ve only known you for a day.

“You don’t have to if you don’t fancy it.” The deep sigh he lets out through his nose, however, betrays his disappointment.

“I’d rather not tell. But don’t worry, I’m fine. Not sick or anything. My mind’s just… I guess you could say I was gone with the fairies for a bit.”

“Fortunately, they didn’t whisk you away entirely. I don’t fancy myself a man capable of going to the Otherworld.” Although he tries to be humorous, his smile is wistful. “Doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t try.”

“It’s difficult to come back, once you’ve set foot in Tír na nÓg. Anyways, let’s crack on. What do I owe you again?”

‘‘You don’t have to pay me.’’

‘‘You’re pulling my leg.’’ His expression doesn’t change, remaining warm yet stoic. ‘‘You’re serious?’’

‘‘I am. See it as compensation for having to deal with a hot-headed bastard.’’

‘‘Thank you, but this isn’t right. Like it or not, but I’ll still pay you.’’

“Despite the fight?”

“Despite the fight. So, how much?”

He names his price and I count out the notes. ‘‘Wait, that’s not…’’

‘‘Let me give you a discount if you don’t accept a full restitution.’’

‘‘Alright, fine,’’ I sigh, knowing protest will be futile, and continue to count. “Oh, and here’s another twenty. For the splendid service and, well,” I let out a shy giggle, “proper care.”

He hums and leans forward to collect the money. “In that case, thank you very much, my fair lady.”

My fair lady… my… his.

Though my mind is a million miles away, the rest of my body stiffens in reaction to the pet name. He notices, a note of concern in his question. “Was that too much?”

I wave a frantic dismissive hand. “No! No, not at all. Don’t mind me.”

It’ll pass, this feeling. Butterflies never live long. 

Rubbing his lower lip, he mumbles something under his breath. The only words I can make out are “flustered” and “cute”, which doesn’t help with my mood whatsoever.

Neither does the mischief underlining his normally polite suggestion. “Want another round of Solomons Lemon Water before you go?”

“I’m good. Yeah, I’m- I- I should go.” 

I get up and prepare to leave. Alfie rises to his feet too, falling into pace as we move towards the door. On the way, I grab my jacket off of the coat rack, putting my arm through one sleeve, but clumsily grabbing into nothing in an effort to put my other arm through the other sleeve.

A struggle quickly ended by two sturdy palms which help me ease into it. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” I turn away towards the door, ready to go before I make an even greater fool of myself. Then again, my feet won’t move, refusing to budge the slightest inch. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“A Jewish gentleman from Margate,” he merrily quips. But the amusement doesn’t last, fading into an indecipherable expression which seems equally as hesitant to end things here alongside something hidden. “Normally, yeah, I meet up with clients for pictures once the tattoo is healed. So let’s make it a date. Appointment,” he quickly corrects himself as a grimace flashes over his face. “An appointment, yeah, right, make an appointment when your leg has healed.”

“I think it will have to be by the time you come to Amsterdam.”

His brow furrows and he purses his lips, displeased. “I don’t think the convention will provide good pictures. The lighting isn’t that great and there’s all these people walking around.’’ The deep lines in his forehead smoothen out, a devilish smile gradually forming. ‘‘But I’ve booked an extended stay so, considering I’m not familiar with the city, we could meet up and you show me around? Unless you think you won’t be able to handle two days with a bastard like me.”

Don’t squeal. Stay calm. Don’t mess up at the last second. Calm and collected.

And unusually bold, apparently. Without wavering, I make a suggestion of my own. “Will you show me around Margate if and when I’m in England again?”

He chuckles. “Fucking ‘ell, negotiating, are we? I thought Tommy was the only one fond of that.” He scrunches his nose as someone else comes to mind. “And that numpty.”

“Hey, be nice. Michael’s a good guy.”

Alfie grumbles something under his breath, not shy to let on he’s annoyed by me siding with his colleague. Then, like he did before, he forces himself to repress the dangerous mixture of irritation and anger bubbling inside. “Tell you what, yeah, you show up in Amsterdam with your leg properly taken care of and I’ll show you around Margate. I’ll even pick you up from the airport.”

“It seems we have a deal,” I extend my hand, “Mr Solomons.”

Instead of a handshake, his warm big palm envelops my fingers and he lifts them to his lips. His beard feels ticklish against my skin, the whiskers rough yet oddly soft at the same time. “So we do, Miss L/N.”

Alfie holds the door open, plush lips curled into a knowing smile, and I step out onto the street.

A king’s promise in my pocket.

Tag list: @buttercup32sstuff @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual​ @potter-solomons @ilovemanypeople @zablife​ @hecatemoon87​​ @alikaheroes

Want to be tagged in the future? Send me a message or leave a comment and I’ll make sure to add ye! 

#Peaky Blinders #Alfie Solomons #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons fanfic #Alfie Solomons x Reader #Alfie Solomons fic #Alfie Solomons x Female Reader #Winterfall

[peakypolly]

Hello to each and everyone of you who stumbles upon this blog! My name is Kat, I'm 21 years old from the U.S and I love Peaky Blinders!

I want to use this blog to make friends with similar interests, establish a better writing technique, and talk about all things Peaky related.

Some rules:

No fighting, nasty comments, or bullying/harassment are allowed on this page!

No racism, homophobia, antisemitism, or anything hateful towards any members of any community or you will be blocked

Right now I do not write smut because I'm just not comfortable in my ability to do so but I might in the future

My requests are open! Here are the characters I write for:

Tommy Shelby

Arthur Shelby

John Shelby

Finn Shelby

Ada Thorne

Polly Gray

Michael Gray

Alfie Solomons

Bonnie Gold

Isaiah Jesus

Newly added:

Aberama Gold

I can do Headcanons, One-Shots, Preferences, and Imagines

I will not write incest, and all characters must be 18+ (Finn seasons 4-6 scenarios only) I will also not write any r@pe or S/A content (really abuse of any kind unless it is only eluded to as a past event)!! It makes me uncomfortable and I want this blog to be a safe space for all!

I will take requests for characters not listed but they may not be granted if I feel I don't know how the character would respond to the scenario in the request/ don't know how to write them!

I am new to writing fan fiction so please bare with me as I learn, I hope to be able to bring justice to how your favorite character is written!

Thank you for reading and have a lovely day!

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby #new blog

[shelbydelrey]

Tell me about the fic titled SMUT, please! 😏😂

Oh Laur, you're going to love this! In short is a peaky Modern!AU where a character named Magdalena (i don't consider her a proper OC, she's just a person that walks through my mind from time to time 😅) and May (yes that's right, it's a lesbian smut 😈) have sex for the first time. I intend it to be gentle and super steamy, to reflect the characters dynamics, but i didn't even get to the fucking part 🤣

It's not something that i consider posting on tumblr or AO3 for that matter, but if i ever get around to finish it, i'll gladly share it with you.

And can i share all the Magdalena lore? As i said before, she's more of a daydream than a proper OC since i don't plan to ever get around to write her story, but this bitch has an incredible amount background and shit to say 😂

Basically, she's a Changretta. Luca's sister to be more exact. And she's a black sheep in the family because she was born out of wedlock. She does protect her family interest, however, despite all the shit she has to endure. That changes slightly when the Shelbys arrive in the scene, as you can imagine 🤭, and she has to deal with Tommy Shelby, the bastard with who her grandfather creates an odd admiration for.

The Solomons are also at the scene and Alfie creates chaos with the same dexterity that he makes bread 🤣 In this AU i also picture him having a sister that is explosive like him, someone akin to Beth from Yellowstone.

And alas i expanded (or rather my brain did because i certainly didn't give permission for this scenario to become as detailed as it is) the Carltones and made them an old money gangster family. May as you know was married into them and is very unhappy wife. She seeks not only Tommy for comfort but Magdalena as well 😏

I guess that's about it... There a few more details but i guess this post would become extra lengthy 😅

Thank you for hearing my extense explanation, or perhaps justification, as to why i'm writing porn 😳

#askbox #ask game #mutuals

[solomons-finest-rum]

Hello! I love your writing 🥰 and congrats on your milestone! I have a request —but no pressure if it doesn’t interest you!

I’m thinking of an enemies to lovers type scenario where Alfie falls for an Italian girl and resists it because we all know how he feels about Italians! 🙈But then he secretly adores everything Italian about her (her cooking, her accent, even her nonna haha) and falls in love, somewhat begrudgingly.

Thanks and have a good day! x

"Fire and Brimstone" — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)

SUMMARY — You see, there were many things Alfie Solomons was prepared to let go of in this life or the next, but for you… For you, he would bring this city down to its knees.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you so so so much for this request and for the kind message ❤️❤️❤️ I hope I did it justice!

WORD COUNT — 876

Masterlist

By the time Tommy Shelby rolled into town with his new Birmingham ways, everybody who was anybody in their world already knew Alfie Solomons was losing his turf war to Darby Sabini.

Though truth be told, that loss was brutal for both sides in equal measure. Any Italian boy that ventured closer to Camden Town than strictly necessary, would soon be returned home through the river current—throat cut from ear to ear. Sabini, like any good opponent, worked hard to return the favour, spite and malice included.

True, it was clever of Tommy to decide to use the bitter rivalry for leverage—but what he didn’t know was how it started. And, like any good revenge story, it started with a woman.

What Alfie remembered most about these times, times he would thereafter try to think about as little as possible, was the food. Because you see, Darby Sabini was the kind of man that liked to show off what was his, and in this case, he liked to argue with Alfie that when it came to food, the Italians did it better.

“Nah, see, that’s where you’re wrong, my friend!” Sabini shouted for the entire restaurant to hear and motioned for you, the waitress, to bring more wine around.

It was your parents’ restaurant and you had been helping there all your life. After all, you definitely inherited your nonna’s culinary gifts. And you used them from time to time—especially if a certain Jewish gangster came around to pretend he never liked anything about your cooking in the first place.

“Even badly made pasta can be a good meal, all right, if the sauce’s good enough. Thank you, sweetheart,” Sabini continued his tale and raised the glass in a toast. Alfie had to raise his, though he barely touched it. “But now, see there Alfie, you try to make them matzah balls before? Yeah, them little buggers, you remember which ones. We used to eat them at your house all the time, you remember that? Yeah… One wrong move and poof! Gone! Basta!”

Alfie hummed at the theatrics, as Darby was entertaining the table in his usual Darby fashion, clapping his hands and exaggerating even his usual mannerisms. But the good food and what was a good company at the time was not exactly the reason why Alfie let the minor transgressions slide. Because of course he endured it all for you.

Whenever Darby dragged him to your parents’ restaurant, Alfie did his best to keep up the grumpy front all night and never really indicated that he enjoyed himself even a little. As for you, the nights he came by were some of your favourites. You loved the silent game of cat and mouse you had with Alfie.

Tonight you watched him nodding at Darby’s ridiculous anecdotes about their youth, sometimes you spotted him chuckling at this or that. One thing Alfie never managed to hide, though, was how much he actually enjoyed the food at this place. You knew it well and it gave you immense satisfaction. His plate would always be cleaned right out and he would bear Darby’s comments about it afterwards. You didn’t know it, but Alfie thought the food was completely worth it.

“Do you want to order anything else?” you asked in the general direction of the table as you came to collect the empty wine bottles, though you allowed yourself to glance once or twice towards Alfie when you thought no one was paying attention.

But Darby was. He always was and that was precisely why Alfie’s expression only grew darker and even less approachable; just to hide how much he enjoyed your presence.

“Don’t know, sweetheart,” Sabini said then entirely too loudly and placed a couple of coins on your tray as a tip. “See, my friend here is of, as you’d call it, curious taste.”

“Oh?” You turned around to Alfie and the way you smiled at him sent a shiver down his spine.

Alfie suspected, though, that the tale his friend was spinning wouldn’t be too favourable. He hoped you wouldn’t believe it.

“Yes, you might say he’s—”

“Heard you make your own ice cream,” Alfie interrupted, already fed up with whatever nonsense Darby was trying to say.

“Sì, naturalmente.” You flashed Alfie a smile and he hummed appreciatively. “I will bring you some.”

You left the table and hoped he would watch you do it, though when you turned around, Alfie was already back to placating his companion.

“I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re doing, Alfie,” Sabini said to him, quieter this time.

“Yeah, an’ what’s that?” Alfie grunted.

“Breaking the arrangements.”

Ah. The arrangements were simple of course—the Italian women were off the menu, tonight or any night for that matter. Though to be honest, as Alfie nodded and finally shared the remnants of the wine with Darby in an attempt to lull him into complacency, he already knew that arrangements were done for. He could no longer just watch and not touch. He was done.

You see, there were many things Alfie Solomons was prepared to let go of in this life or the next, but for you… For you, he would bring this city down to its knees.

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fanfiction #peaky blinders reader #peaky blinders x reader #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Not One of Many - Chapter Four.

Oh, what is this? A surprise update? YES! Thanks to everyone for your feedback, I’m looking forward to your thoughts on this as ever :)

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,665

Warnings - 18+ for later chapters. Minors DNI!

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come to me for once! Get in!” Opening the door of her home, Magda kissed Beth’s cheek as she entered, her four dogs, Mickey, Rocky, Hank and Claus all charging for her, excited woofing filling the air as their visitor crouched to greet them all in turn.  

“Boys, come on!” Dennis called from the kitchen, whistling. “Alright, love. How’s tricks?” She was given another kiss and handed a glass of red as she entered the kitchen, the smells of Dennis’s famous chicken madras filling her nostrils, her stomach rumbling.  

“Pretty good, thanks. I’ll be even better when I get some nosh down my neck, I’m bloody starving! She revealed, hanging her bag off one of the chairs at the table. “And you?”

“Can’t complain, B. Finally sold that bloody Lotus this morning!” Dennis’s business was in the high-end classic car market, owning a lucrative garage-come-dealership across the city, the troublesome Lotus Elise spending much too long in his showroom for his liking.  

“Ahhh, the yellow peril is no more!” her joke made him snicker, turning back to his pot as she sat down, Magda opening the back door and standing outside in the small garden, lighting herself a cigarette.  

“Now then, you looking forward to it, babe? Joining the Solomon’s harem?”

“Fuck off.” Her snipe had Magda in fits, her husky laugh filling the air. “First Kinga and now you with the harem comments!” she continued, referencing their mutual friend and fellow journalist, Kinga Clarke.

“He really told you in as many words he wanted to shag you, right off the bat?” Dennis inquired, pushing his glasses back up his nose as the steam from the rice caused a slight spectacle slide.  

“He did. Alfie is not in the habit of mincing his words, it seems, but he did realise his comments weren’t appropriate and apologised for them, so that earned points with me.”  

“So, let me get this straight. The handsome, multi-millionaire with the big cock asks you if you want to shag him,” Magda began.

“Oi! Rein it in, love!” Dennis protested from the stove, his face a picture. “And how do you know how big his cock is?”

“His ex-girlfriend told me,” she replied quickly, turning back to Beth. “And you said no?”

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to, but I did say no. He’d have to work much harder to get into my knickers, but for the sake of professionalism, I don’t think I’d actually let him.”

“But you would though, professionalism aside, if the scenario was different. Wouldn’t you?”

She was thoughtful for a moment, trying not to laugh at the sight of Magda hanging onto her chuckles, her mouth twitching repeatedly as she bit back her grin. “If he worked hard enough for it, under a different set of circumstances, I might.”

Magda scoffed, taking a long drag on her cigarette. “That’s very coy for someone as brazen as you!”

“My work comes first.”  

“Now I could make a hell of a pun here, but I shan’t. Just know I’m thinking it, though.”

Beth rolled her eyes, sipping her wine through a smile. “That’s no bloody surprise, mate.” All talk of her impending stay in Chelsea was put aside, the three getting on with their Saturday night of extremely hot Indian food and chatter around the dinner table, Beth happily sharing that her rejected article had been picked up by an online publication, the editor loving her approach to the subject. It wasn’t as well paid as she would have received had she been featured in London Life and Style, but it was a pay out and a little promotion, nonetheless.  

After they’d eaten, Dennis retired to the lounge, Magda ushering her bestie upstairs to where she’d laid out several outfits. Alfie had mentioned she’d need to bring clothes for going out a couple of times, but hadn’t specified on the location. She thought likely bar or restaurant as he’d professed a hatred of nightclubs (‘too fuckin’ loud, innit?’ he’d spoken of them in passing during his interview) so that narrowed things down.

“Now, this is fucking divine, but I’m not sure it’ll fit unless I put you in a push up bra for boob room,” Magda began, gesturing to her full C cup breasts and then back at the stunning, black dress. It was faille style, with a silver zip straight down the front, Beth falling in love with it in an instant. She always did with McQueen. “Here, get this on.” Handing her a satin Wonderbra, Magda took the dress from the hanger while Beth undressed, putting the bra on, Magda unfastening the zip and pulling it over her arms. “Breathe in!”

“Bloody hell, that is a bit tight!” she exclaimed as the zip was fastened, Magda snorting at how insane her cleavage looked.  

“Look at the tits on that!” she cried, blowing a raspberry onto them, Beth in hysterics. “You can leave the zip undone a fraction, though, for comfort. Give him something nice to look at and all.”

“Mags,” she warned, her friend snickering with mirth.

“You know I’m gonna wind you right up about this throughout the duration! Right, the Westwood next. “I had lunch with Viv a couple of days ago. She sends her regards.”

Beth had interviewed Vivienne the previous winter, her article being featured in Vogue, which was a huge achievement for her. She’d found the powerhouse British designer to be utterly fascinating and full of warm charm, Beth leaving an impression on her too, it would seem, for her to send her regards via their mutual friend all this time later.  

Pulling on the iron blue, satin mini dress, Beth was in love all over again, thanking her stars for Magda and her fashion connection. With that one being another yes, another six were tried on, two vetoed by the wardrobe mistress, leaving her with six to borrow, so she had choices. On the day itself, Beth firstly met with her fellow journalist friends, Kinga and Oliver for breakfast, the three catching up with each other sufficiently before heading home to pack her things.

“Now, what the hell do I wear?” In the end, she remained in the casual clothes she had on already, her skinny jeans and a t shirt, teamed with flip flops and her beloved Chanel cross body bag. Retail, five thousand. Second hand from HEWI, one and a half. It had still made her eyes water, spending so much on one item.  

She was on her way to a world where money was no object, though, her mouth falling open when the taxi pulled up outside Alfie’s home. “Fucking hell.” she whispered, getting out, the Uber driver assisting with her case and dress bags, the front door opening to reveal Amira, swathed in Louis Vuitton pyjamas and a pair of very fluffy fur slides, coming down to the gate.  

“Morning! Alfie’s on a business call, but let me help you,” she spoke kindly, seeming much more hospitable than Beth was first expecting. “Hmm, are you wearing that t shirt on purpose?”  

“Excuse me?” she asked, puzzled.  

“Queens of the Stone Age are one of Alfie’s favourite bands,” Amira spoke, folding the dress bags carefully over her arm as they walked to the front door. Ahh. She’d obviously assumed Beth had worn it purely to score points with him.  

“I had no idea. When we spoke of music, he mainly detailed his love of classical, but did mention he was partial to an eclectic array of offerings.”

Amira snorted, widening her eyes. “You can say that again. His CD collection is literal insanity, even more so that he still insists on CD’s!” Entering the property, Beth felt her mouth drop open a little again, the entrance hall leading to a huge reception room, Alfie’s office to the left, the man himself turning in his chair to wave fleetingly through the clear glass frontage as he sat deep in conversation on the phone. She was led towards a huge kitchen and breakfast room, Beth noting that the former church carried some of the original features still, a wonderful mix of historic and contemporary in how it had been designed.  

Once within the grand kitchen, she put her case over by the breakfast nook (which was probably too large to be referred to as a nook in actuality) Amira placing her dresses carefully over the table before moving over to the large coffee machine. “We’ve got everything, what would you like?”

“Cappuccino, please.”

“Sugar?”  

“No, thanks. I’m sweet enough.”

Amira hummed with laughter, retrieving two cups from the cupboard. “My boyfriend uses that line quite a lot.”  

“So, how did you and Alfie first meet?” Beth inquired, Amira moving to fill the machine with water.  

“I model, well I used to a lot more than I do now, and I was on a photoshoot at Chateaux Noir, one of his hotels,” she began, Beth discreetly clicking her voice notes to record. “He stopped by to watch the shoot and asked me out between shots. I went to dinner with him a week later, came back here and never really left.”

“Was he dating anyone else at the time?”

“He was, two girls, Angela and Brooke. Brooke only lasted about another six months after I’d arrived, replaced by Jodie shortly after. She didn’t last long, either.”

“What were your first thoughts on it, his dating of multiple women at once?”  

Putting a pod into the machine, Amira pressed the required buttons, pulling her hair from the large, brown scrunchie she wore, re-tying her mountain of dark dresses. “I won’t lie, I did find it quite strange at first, perhaps thought of him as a bit chauvinistic, but he soon proved to be anything but. He absolutely adores women, so much so that he opened himself up to the idea of being romantic with more than one at a time. Believe me, we’re nothing but extremely happy, all dating him at once.”

Beth wasn’t about to question it, but it seemed Amira was quite sensitive over such a topic, probably borne of having her relationship scrutinised regularly, she thought, which was only natural, being that most people did not commonly encounter such a set up. Automatically acting defensively was understandable.  

“His fondness for you all is palpable when he speaks of you,” Beth chimed, smiling and thanking her as Amira brought the coffees over, both standing at the large island.

“He’s such a bloody gentleman, but has enough of the bad boy in him to keep us all on our toes.” Speaking of the gentleman-come-bad boy, he entered the kitchen shortly after, dressed down in dark green combat style trousers and a black denim shirt with the sleeves rolled, up, revealing an impressive collection of tattoos, the buttoned-down shirt showing a couple upon his hairy chest as well, his feet bare. Immediately, he pointed at Beth.  

“Best album?” he quizzed, of course noticing her t shirt.

“Oh, god. It’s either Songs for the Deaf or Lullabies to Paralyse,” she spoke, hating having to choose.

“Correct answer, absolute belters, they are. Finally, I have a woman in my house who listens to music of substantial quality. These three? Fuckin’ ‘ell! The row I have to suffer!”

“Oi, don’t be so bloody rude!” Amira protested lightly, blowing stream from her latte.  

Alfie smirked, pointing his thumb at his girlfriend as he moved to stand by the fridge. “She likes all that rap rubbish. Crap, I call it. That fucking fella with the dreadlocks, whassis name?”

“Lil Wayne?”

“Yeah, that plonker,” Alfie confirmed, Beth looking between them as she sipped her cappuccino. It knocked the shit out of her preferred Starbucks.  

“What’s wrong with Lil Wayne?”  

“What’s fuckin’ right with him?” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Looks like a scarecrow that’s been scribbled on and sounds less tuneful than a goat pissing in a biscuit tin.”  

Beth nearly choked on her coffee, bursting out laughing, Amira looking on at her boyfriend darkly while their guest attempted to compose her hysterics, but failed. “I apologise, Amira. Your man is quite the comic, though.”  

“Just don’t write that in your article. He doesn’t need any further encouraging!” Alfie stood there grinning, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “I’m going for a bath. See you later, Beth.” Passing her by, she then received a kiss from her boyfriend, Alfie laughing softly when she muttered something about him being a shit under her breath, shaking his head before looking back at Beth.  

“I’ve got half an hour between phone meetings. You want the guided tour, treacle?”  

“Yes, that’d be great. Your home is incredible, I have to say.”

“It ain’t bad. Tell you what, you finish your coffee and I’ll run your stuff up to your room. Be back in a sec.” He lifted her dresses over his arm, picking up her case and lifting it. “Blimey, you got house bricks in here, darlin’?”  

“Just three.” He chuckled deeply at her joke, leaving her to it, Beth switching off her voice notes and draining her coffee, looking around the beautiful kitchen some more while she waited for him to arrive back.  

“Right, so treat this place like it’s yours while you’re here, you ain’t gotta ask for nothing, just leave anything with Mimi’s name on in the fridge well alone. I nearly got hung for pinching her last Muller Rice one time,” he began after arriving back, Beth following him out, her insides glimmering pleasantly as she caught a whiff of his cologne. “Lounge number one, where we tend to congregate the most. Game room through there, please tell me you play pool so I actually have use of the thing when I ain’t got the lads round, since none of the girls play.”

“I bloody love pool.” Her revelation made him beam.  

“Excellent. Right, down there are the stairs that’ll take you to the pool, gym and sauna, use them at your leisure, of course. Dining room is over that side,” he continued, taking the stairs. “Right, that’s Mimi’s room, main bathroom is there, a smaller, second lounge just over on the right and your room is down at the end.” There were a few open seating sections with tables dotted around the huge space, the massive windows letting in an impressive amount of light into the triple height atrium.

Looking inside the bathroom, she’d never seen a space more exquisite designated for bathing, the stained glass in amongst the leaded windows remaining, adding a nice splash of colour in the white and grey decorated space, a huge sink console in the centre just before the deep bathtub over at the end, a steady stream of water running in over expensive scented bubbles that Amira had obviously prepared. On the top floor, she was shown the master suite, a big space decorated mostly in white, but with two opposing charcoal walls, the bed a big, modern four poster of black iron.  

“Afternoon, sweetheart,” he greeted Talia with as she stepped out of her bedroom, pausing to give her a kiss.  

“Hello, my sexy,” she purred, stroking his chest. “So, this is the journalist, I take it?”

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Beth” she spoke, offering her hand. Talia shook it coolly, eyeing her in a way that was much less friendly than Amira’s cheerful disposition. Her mouth twitched into a smile, but she could tell instantly that if Alfie hadn’t of been standing right there, she would have likely ignored her altogether.  

“Yeah, you too. Is Mimi with the neddies?” she then asked her boyfriend, Alfie nodding.

“I think so, yeah. She left at about eight to go for a ride.” Beth had noticed a few pictures dotted around of Mimi riding a large, grey horse and a smaller palomino, jumping over frightfully high looking fences upon her steeds. Beth had ridden as a child and a teen, but stopped when the pressures of her career had demanded less time for herself. She certainly wasn’t near Mimi’s level, which seemed to be of the competitive standing, going by the photographs.  

“Alright, well I’m going to head out, go shopping and meet up with a couple of mates.”

“Don’t be bloody late getting back here to get ready though, yeah? I’ve booked our table for seven.”

“Where are we going?”

“Hester’s.” At that, Talia squeaked, kissing him and heading off down the stairs. Hester’s was likely Hester Blumenthal’s restaurant, where Beth had never visited on account of the steep prices, but heard amazing reviews over. Their tour continued, Alfie showing her the cinema room complete with big, comfy sofa rather than individual seats, the second bathroom, media room and lastly, Amira’s room before they descended a floor, walking down to the room she’d be staying in.  

“Here, one set of keys and one gate and alarm code. You’ve got fifteen seconds after the front door opens to enter the code before the sirens will start making a row, keypad is on your right as you come in. Feel free to come and go as you please, but if you could be available on the nights we go out as a group, that’d be good.” Handing her a set of keys and a slip of paper, he smiled, noticing something had caught her eye.

“Thank you. And I like that,” she said, pointing to where his shirt unfastened.

“What, my chest rug?” He couldn’t help himself, perpetual flirty tease that he was, winking at her as he pulled his shirt open a little more, laughing when she rolled her eyes. Internally, though, a certain part of her anatomy had just pulsed for seeing his well-built chest in a little finer detail. She didn’t notice it too much before when he was swathed in expensive suits, but in more casual clothes, it was clear he put a lot of dedication into his bulky physique.  

“The star of David,” she confirmed, pointing to the pendant, set on a chain among a string of beads and a second, longer chain adorned with a machine gun bullet.

“Antique, that. It was my dad’s, and his fathers before him. He was a gangster, apparently, my granddad. Ran a rum distillery beneath the front of a bakery in Camden, if stories are to be believed.” She’d have to remember that little snippet of interesting information for later, when she began taking down more notes at her laptop, which she’d crammed within her case, save bringing too much luggage with her. “Well, I’ve gotta get back to the grind. Oh, the housekeeper comes every other day, there’s a basket in your room, leave your clothes in there and she’ll have ‘em back with you by the evening. She’ll be here tomorrow. See you later.”

He winked again, her stomach flipping pleasantly. She couldn’t help it, he definitely did something to her insides that made her quietly curse her professionalism. He’d rouse such many more times, as well, she guessed. But she would remain steadfast.  

She was there as a journalist, no matter how much, as Alfie descended the stairs again, they both quietly wished she wasn’t.  

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons au #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons x oc #modern alfie solomons #tom hardy #tom hardy smut #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fic #tom hardy x ofc #tom hardy x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut

[wandawiccan60]

The Witch of Camden Town

Part 10

A/N: Hey guys it's me again back with you with another part of my Alfie story. I like to always thank every single one of you guys for reading this story. It really means a lot and thanks for supporting me on this crazy journey. And without further ado, Enjoy!!!

ALFIE SOLOMON'S MASTERLIST

TAGS: @hecatemoon87, @kittycatcait219, @potter-solomons, @darklydeliciousdesires, @tomhardyspinkyfinger, @veddieiscanon, @jarvisrocks, @zablife, @solomons-finest-rum, @alikaheroes, @annisse, @omgeternal, @buttercup32sstuff, @bubblyani, @theshelbyslimited, @theshelbyclan, @thealmightybitchgoddess, @raincoffeeandfandoms, @queencoraline3, @thefics-that-drip, @mollybegger-blog, @lovebitesimagines, @rikki-b-lake, @madame-wilsonn, @alfiesolomons-treacle

Word Count: 5,341

WARNING 18+ ONLY!!!: Some Cussing, Graphic Blood, Dark AU, Mentions of Dark Ritual, Some Fluff(Alfie and Jvonka), and Mentions of Smoking

✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨

“Going back to his home sounds like a terrible idea Jovonka, have you lost your mind?” Isabel exclaimed as she was fixing Elena’s long brown hair into two braids.

“Oh, please Isabel, trust me and it is best for Elena she will be safer at his house than out here. Please, trust me. It’s best for her and also for you at least,” Jovonka protested as she was combing her long, brown hair.

Isabel just sighed at what her sister was saying, not liking where this was going at all. But as she was thinking through this for quite some time now, she noticed Jovonka was right. They have also noticed that it’s possible that Gustovo and his men could be anywhere around these parts. And if it’s true, they might end up getting caught without them noticing. It made Isabel feel nervous and uneasy, for she worried about everyone’s safety. Especially for Little Elena not wanting her to be in the position she and Jovonka had to go through the worst potential scenarios they had to endorse.

Isabel then as she finished doing one braid on Elena’s hair, she then continued with the other half. As she braided her hair, Isabel felt spiritually defeated as she looked back in Jovonka’s direction.

“Jovonka, look into my eyes if you say that this man can take care of all of us, including Elena. Promise me he will never leave our little sister out of his sight. Do you understand me? Because if he cannot do a simple task, I swear Jovonka with my soul he will have to deal with me and I know you won’t allow that. Deal?” Isabel said with a cold and serious stare as Jovonka stopped combing her hair midway.

As Jovonka recognized that familiar death stare of her older sister, she knew Isabel was very serious. Not wanting to see that same incident happen after she came back from that old pervert that she stayed with. It was very frightening Jovonka knew how powerful and sinister Isabel can actually be. 

It was one night when everyone was fast asleep, except for Jovonka. She noticed that Isabel and her mother were gone. So, as her curiosity got the best of her, she looked for them. And as she walked her way into the dark, chilly night, with only a little lantern with her. Jovonka finally found Isabel and her mother deep within a forest close to where the circus camp was. She could still remember those chanting words that Isabel and her mother would say in unison. And as she quietly approached them and hid behind some big rocks, she then continued to listen and watch as their ritual became more nerve-wracking.

Both Isabel and her mother were fully naked as they spoke and chant in an unknown tongue that Jovonka couldn’t yet understand. As they danced and twirled around the campfire, Enrieta then brought out a live crow with its wings tied together. Isabel ignited some herbs and weeds on a small brown cup while she continued to chant, but more loudly. Her mother then brought a small knife out of her small black satchel. And as Enrieta raised the knife up above her head, she then split open the crow’s small body, exposing both its organs and blood. Enrieta then poured out the cross blood on another small brown cup and once it was full, she handed it to Isabel. 

As Isabel grabbed the cup in between her hands, she then covered her body with the crow’s blood from head to toe. While Jovonka continued to overlook behind the rocks, she felt an icy chill running down her spin.

“Let the devil do its work and bring death to the one that brought you harm,” Enrieta said in Romania as she marked a symbol against Isabel’s chest.

Jovonka recognized the symbol clearly, knowing that it was the mark of death. As Enrieta continued to chant more loudly, Isabel, then laid on the cold muddy ground. And as she closed her eyes for a moment or so, her eyes burst wide open as her eyes now became black as the dark. Her body then levitated in the air as Enrieta raised her hands as she slowly chanted in a more eerie manner.

As Isabel’s body stopped in the middle of the air and everything went so quickly that Jovonka gasped at what she witnessed next. Isabel’s body was in a swift, had her arms and legs bent backward, hearing a crack along with it. And suddenly everything went silent, for only the sound of the wood cracking from the campfire was heard. A second or so later Isabel then started to slowly float down as Enrieta then gently grabbed her body and placed her gently on the ground. 

“Isabel, my child, hear my voice and come back to me,” Enrieta said as she cleansed her body with the brown cup with the burning herbs and weeds. 

A moment later Isabel then woke up and her eyes now turned back to normal. As she slowly sat up from the ground, Enrieta then let out a sigh of relief, feeling at peace that her daughter was awake. 

“Mother, he’s he is dead now. I… I never thought I could do something like this. But now I know what I can do to people like him,” Isabel said as she felt the cool breeze against her body. 

“He is someone that you shouldn’t worry about anymore, my love, but you now know what you can do with these special abilities,” her mother said as she smiled back at her oldest daughter.

From that night on, Jovonka has never forgotten about Isabel’s power to kill anyone if they ever mess around with her or her family. 

“Jovonka, hey do you understand me? Do we have a deal?” Isabel said after the third time, making Jovonka back into the present.

“Oh yes, I’m sorry Isabel, it’s just I know what you mean. And I know what you mean about Alfie if he cannot do so, then… he is yours to do your bidding,” Jovonka said uneasily.

Isabel quickly recognized that face for she could feel her sister’s heart feel nervous and eager to the core.

“Jovonka I know you love him very much but you understand that I still don’t fully trust him but if he proves he means well and is someone to be depended, then I won’t do anything that’ll break your heart,” Isabel said as she now finished the last braid on Elena.

“Thank you, Isabel, they look wonderful as ever,” Elena said as she look herself in the mirror, flopping her braids from side to side.

Jovonka was still combing her long hair while she got lost in her thoughts about Alfie. She felt overwhelmed by the whole idea, knowing what consequences could actually happen. She also worried about how Novel would react to all of this ordeal. But Jovonka knows he would not allow her to go back with Alfie.

“Alright now we should get going then come on Elena it’s time to head to school,” Isabel said as she straightened out Elena’s small white dress for the third time already.

It was decided sometime later, after Alfie and Jovonka talked again three nights ago. Alfie convinced Jovonka that Elena should start going to school. Promising her, he will take her and bring her back after she finishes school. Jovonka was skeptical at first, not knowing that it was a good idea to leave Elena all alone with other people. Alfie reassures her that Elena will be fine and that he will have some of his men stay and patrol around the school until Elena is out. 

“I just… I don’t want to see her taken away, Alfie. It worries me that Gustovo and possibly Sabini’s men could be anywhere at any moment. What if they’re already here and we just don’t know it yet?” Jovonka said in a worried tone, not wanting to know the many terrible possibilities.

Alfie gently took hold of Jovonka’s right hand while he cupped her left cheek with the other as they both looked into each other’s eyes.

“Jovonka, it’ll be alrigh’ my love. I promise you I’ll keep an eye on Elena. As long as I’m around with you and your sisters, you’ll be safe under my wings and eyes no matter what alrigh’?” Alfie said as he placed his hands on both of her cheeks as he kissed her forehead.

“I trust you with all of my heart, Alfie. Thank you for doing this for us and for me. I still can’t understand why you picked me and no one else?” Jovonka said, still gazing back at Alfie’s blue eyes.

“Because you're somethin’ special to me, my little rose. Your different beautiful a wonder and most of all my ligh’ that’ll guide me in this world. My heart also beats for only yous when you’re around or when I think about you as well,” Alfie said as he took her small lips against his, feeling that intimate vibration between them.

After that night Jovonka did ended up taking Elena to school the next morning still fearing for her little sister’s safety. But once they got to the front of the school, Alfie was there to greet them and Jovonka then felt relieved and relaxed. As of now, Elena has enjoyed being at school, made a new friend, and would always speak non-stop about how wonderful her teacher is. It made Jovonka and Isabel feel glad to see Elena this free and alive. Novel, however, still wasn’t so convinced about Alfie helping the girls out.

After Jovonka brushed down her now untangled hair, she then tied her hair back into a mid ponytail. As the three girls walked their way down the street towards the school, Elena, then skipped and hum along the way. Once they made it to the school, Alfie was already there to greet them again and, to Elena’s excitement, Cyril was there.

“Cyril, I miss you so very much,” Elena said as she ran up to the big mutt as she then embraced him in a tight hug.

Jovonka and Isabel smiled at this adorable scene as they walked from behind. Jovonka then caught sight of Alfie’s gaze. She smiled as she stood next to his side, feeling warm inside.

“Elena seems quite happy to see Cyril, yea? And good mornin’ to you ladies, it is good to see yous all again,” Alfie said as he took his hat off out of respect.

“It is also nice to see you again as well Mr. Solomon’s I see that your men there are ready to watch over Elena again,” Isabel said nodding her head towards the two men waiting inside his black car.

“Yes, they will as always righ’ will watch over Elena, as I have been promising this whole time. Me men also know the consequences if they break any of me rules,” Alfie said as he looked back at Elena, still patting Cyril, with the big dog now laid over his back.

“I am trusting you very much, Mr. Solomon’s and again thank you for doing this for us. I can’t imagine if we ever went back to the circus,” Isabel said as she look back at Jovonka.

“She will be fine Isabel. I already told you Alfie here has been protecting us at all costs. While he’s around with us to keep us safe, there will be nothing that will harm us. And you should see that by now,” Jovonka said as she smiled back at Alfie.

“Very well then. I think it is time for Elena to go inside now. Elena, come along now. It’s getting late. You don’t want to go to class late,” Isabel said, looking back at the little girl still petting Cyril on the stomach.

“Awww, but Isabel, I want to stay with Cyril for a little longer,” Elena said as she gently hugged Cyril by the neck.

“No buts young lady, get inside already. Come along now,” Isabel commanded as she crossed her arms together, giving her a stern look.

“Elena, how about this. After you come out of school, we can take Cyril for a stroll on the beach. I promise you that if you go inside for me pleasw?” Jovonka said as she knelt down in front of her little sister.

Elena then just nodded her head as she stood up on her feet while she patted Cyril one last time. As the ringing of the bell rang, Elena heard her name being called out. And to her joy, it was her friend Violet waiting for her at the gate. As she said her ‘goodbyes’ to her sisters and Alfie, as she walked her way to her friend. And as both girls went inside the school, Jovonka became anxious, not wanting to leave her little sister alone again.

“Are you alrigh’ my little treacle?” Alfie asked as he looked at Jovonka, knowing that something wasn’t quite right.

“Yes, I am fine, Alfie. It’s just I’m worried about everything you know. I just feel that Gustovo’s men and Sabini’s men could be anywhere here in Margate. I fear we might end up getting caught and taken back to Camden Town, not wanting to imagine the things that could happen to us,” Jovonka said as she rested her head against Alfie’s shoulder while he rested a hand behind her lower back.

“She will be fine Jovonka, I already told you as long as I am aroun’ yea, you and your sisters are under my protection, and never want to lose a single sigh’ on any of yous. I will not let nobody touch you, especially that fuckin’ devil, alrigh’?” Alfie said, looking back into Jovonka’s eyes.

“Thank you again for doing all of this for us, Alfie really,” Jovonka said as she look back at her older sister as she nodded her head to Alfie.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Any fucking sign of them at all?” Gustovo asked Lucas frustratingly for the 60th time in almost these last few months.

“Sir, we have had no luck in finding any sign of Jovonka or her sisters or even that boy Novel. We have searched every single area of this town, including Solomon’s place,” Lucas said as he nervously fidgeted his cap in between his hands.

“Well, look everywhere again. I don’t give a damn if you checked there already or not. Any word on Sabini’s men looking for them as well?” Gustovo said, as he took a long drag from his cigar.

“No sir, Sabini’s men have seen nothing yet, but actually there have been rumors going on about Sabini. He hasn’t been feeling himself lately,” Lucas said, which this made Gustovo raise an eyebrow at him.

“What do you mean by he hasn’t been feeling like himself?” Gustovo questioned as he continued to puff his cigar out.

“Well, they say that he has been getting some sort of odd and terrible dreams that he himself can’t explain when he wakes up. But he apparently mentions so many times about seeing her in his dreams,” Lucas said as Gustovo now had all of his ears and attention towards the man.

“That is very interesting there about Darby now, is it? Sabini can’t get enough of her ever since that night she went to his party.”

“But there is more sir, he has also mentioned seeing his Jewish friend in the dreams. Alfie Solomon’s being exact. Do you think he has something to do with what happened that night at Sabini’s party?” Lucas suggested to Gustovo as he got lost in his thoughts about this unexpected news.

Before Gustovo could question further to Lucas, Henry then stepped inside his office, removing his gray cap from his head.

“Excuse me for interrupting you sir but Mr. Sabini would like to see you, he said it’s very urgent,” Henry said as Gustovo just nodded his head and Henry follow his command.

“Speaking of the devil, what a coincidence that Darby is here to see me. Seems it is what you told Lucas,” Gustovo said as he to a sip from his glass cup filled with rum.

As Henry appeared again with Sabini following from behind, Gustovo then sat up from his desk chair, giving a warm welcome.

“Mr. Sabini, how do you do, my good, fine friend? How can I be of service to you?” Gustovo said as he shook hands with a very looking tired Sabini.

“It is good to see you too Gustovo, my apologies for being absent these couple of days. As you can see, I’m still a bit bruised up from that incident I had in my house. But I came here for some reasons that you can help me out,” Sabini said as he took a set across from Gustovo’s desk.

“Of course, sir, if it’s something that could be solved, I am the person you can come and help you out. And no need for you to apologize. It is quite fine, but I see that your men have been continuing to scout out for my little witch dancer and her sisters. And also that little pathetic boy that also ran off with them, which I heard they as well have found nothing either. But enough of that, so what is it you would like to tell me, Mr. Sabini?” Gustovo said as he took out another glass cup from one of his drawers, as well as a bottle of rum.

“Yes, well, speaking about your missing little Romanian princess, she has been appearing in my dreams. And that’s not all, but also my dear friend Alfie, which he is oddly been appearing in them as well. And I hoped that if there is anyone in your circus group who could help me understand these delusions?” Sabini said as he let a heavy yawn while raising his glass to his lips.

“There is actually the mother of the three missing girls that can solve your questions, Mr. Sabini. But unfortunately, she is saying that she is not taking any requests at the moment. Stupid witch whore thinks she could make her own rules. Well, she is, in fact, wrong about that,” Gustovo said with a slimy grin, making Sabini chuckle as he lit a cigarette, as he then took a drag from it. 

“Good thing is that she hasn’t thought about trying to escape from your grasp. If she wasn’t here, I wouldn’t know where else to go to. But I hope she can help me solve the problems that I have. And speaking of which, did you hear about the killings that happened around Alfie’s bakery?” Sabini said as he took a sip from his cup.

“I actually have indeed. The men that I hired said they haven’t found the bodies yet. But this grew a bit suspicion towards your Jewish friend, and it made me think for a moment if he has anything to do with my missing dancer and the other girls. No offense to your friend Mr. Sabini, but Mr. Solomon’s has lately been quite silent after that incident. Seems I might have to pay him a visit to his bakery then, see if he has seen the girls or that boy,” Gustovo said as he continued to puff his cigar.

“I doubt Alfie has anything to do with all of this, Gustovo. He is, of course, a very private person. He hasn’t had a woman in many years, not since that little bitch girlfriend that ran off with someone else while he went to war. Very heartbroken he was indeed, he drank his sorrows that same night. Drunk out of mind, he was, but I’m sure he hasn’t seen or heard of her anywhere. But I like to thank you for your time in listening to me Gustovo. When can your witch see me?” Sabini said as she drank that last bit of his rum.

“First thing tomorrow in the morning, don’t you worry my dear sir, I’ll make her solve your problems. Believe me, I have my ways and she will listen,” Gustovo said with a sinister and devilish grin as Sabini dabbed his cigarette on the ashtray.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was now 5 o’clock in the afternoon, as Jovonka and Elena got themselves ready to go to the beach with Alfie as she promised. Elena was looking forward to seeing Cyril, especially since she will take him for a walk on the beach. As both girls got into something a bit more comfortable, Isabel then came inside the room and sat next to Elena.

“Jovonka, are you sure about you taking Elena alone with Alfie at the beach?” Isabel questioned while helping Elena with her hair.

“Isabel, stop worrying about our safety. I told you Alfie will be there with us. He is not going anywhere, especially Little Elena. He cares about her as much as you do. In fact, Cyril is there with us, too. He’ll keep us safe while we’re at the beach,” Jovonka said jokingly, making both Elena and Isabel chuckle.

“I guess you're right, I’m sorry Jovonka, it’s just I have a bad feeling that something is coming for all four of us. And before I forget, have you’ve talked with Novel? He has been quiet lately since he knows you started to talk to Alfie again. You know he cares about you? Novel gets very nervous when you are around with him,” Isabel said as she made two small braids on each side of Elena’s head.

“No, not really, not since he got that job at the restaurant around the marketplace. I know he has been upset with me. I don’t blame him, but he also should understand that we can’t go back there. Being with Alfie is the only option we have and look what he has done for us. Novel should see that about Alfie but I guess he will never surpass his anger towards him,” Jovonka said as she adjusted her long sleeve white blouse dress, feeling glum about her relationship with Novel.

“Well, talk to him more. After all, he is your friend who has been there for you since we came to the circus. You should also remember that he is someone that you should always keep in mind besides Alfie,” Isabel said as she finally tried Elena’s hair into a high ponytail.

Jovonka just nodded her head, knowing that Isabel was right. Novel has been nothing but kind to her since the beginning. He was the only person who she could call a friend and someone that she could talk to whenever she felt down. Jovonka remembered one time ago that when she and Novel did some chores together when they were in Italy, she could swear he felt him become nervous whenever they were both alone. And now she understands it more clearly than she did for he tried to tell her he liked Jovonka more than just a friend. But that was a very long time ago and now everything is more different and this made Jovonka feel lost and confused. 

“Jovonka sister, what do you think about my look?” Elena said as she twirled her little long sleeve light pink dress making Jovonka come back to her sense 

“Oh, Elena, you look wonderful as always. Seems you’re ready to go take that walk to the beach then,” Jovonka said as she smiled at her little sister.

“And speaking of which Alfie is already out there waiting for you both,” Isabel called out as she looked down from their window. 

“Come on Jovonka let’s go, let’s go,” Elena said cheerily as she gently pulled on her sister’s hand, not wanting to wait for a second longer. 

“Hold your horses, Little Elena, we will leave soon. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jovonka said, looking back at Isabel. 

“No, I’m fine. You two should get going before it gets late. After all, I might even go pay a visit to Novel to see how he’s doing. Besides, I hope he can give me another free piece of that pineapple and raspberry cake while his boss isn’t looking,” Isabel said in a teasing way, making Elena and Jovonka giggle. 

“Alright then, sounds good to me and tell Novel I said hi. I hope he knows I haven’t forgotten about him. But I’ll see you soon Isabel. I’ll let Alfie know that you’ll be going out. That way he can tell one of his men to look after you and Novel if that’s fine with you?” Jovonka said, not wanting to disappoint her older sister with the request.

“Yes, that’s fine. I don’t mind it as long as his men are there to keep us safe. But please be careful out there both of you, and Elena you stay close to Alfie and Jovonka, ok?” Isabel said, looking at the now impatient little girl wanting to get going.

“I promise that I’ll be close to them, but can we go now, please?” Elena said as she opened the wooden door of their room.

Isabel just shook her head disappointingly with a smile on her face as the three girls made their way downstairs.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

As both Elena and Cyril continued to walk along beside the seashore of the beach, Jovonka and Alfie were following behind them. The sun was now brightly setting beyond the horizon, while the cool and warm breeze blew ever so gently. 

“You know Jovonka, I am thrilled to see Elena be this bright and cheerful as ever. I am startin’ to realize righ’, tha’ she hasn’ had this much freedom then you all were at the circus,” Alfie said as he took a hold of Jovonka’s right hand against his.

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong, Alfie. It also makes me feel warm inside to see her this way. It’s what a child should be like than being stuck in a never ending hellhole like the circus,” Jovonka said as she saw Elena giggling at Cyril as he scratched his back against the wet sandy beach.

Alfie chuckled at seeing Cyril acting this way, still surprised that he grew fond of the little girl, just as he did with Jovonka. Alfie then looked back in Jovonka’s direction while she was busy looking out in the distance. While she slowly closed her eyes while a smile grew on her lips, feeling at peace and relaxed. Alfie found this view lovely and the rays of the sun made her look like a goddess sent from the heavens. He still felt lucky to have found a woman like Jovonka in his life. To which at the same time he felt he still didn’t feel he deserves to have such a treasure like her in his grasp. But now that she is here right in front of his eyes, Alfie will try his best to give her and her sisters everything they deserve. 

“Jovonka…?” Alfie said as he gently turned her face in his direction, making her open her eyes. 

“Yes, Alfie?” Jovonka said as she gazed into his beautiful blue eyes. 

Alfie then gently pressed his lips onto Jovonka’s while she caressed the back of his head with her right hand. Both of them were savoring every second and moment in between their lips. 

Without them noticing, Elena then splashed a bit of seawater in their direction, making them part away from their lips.

“Hehe, come on, you two play with us,” Elena exclaimed as Cyril barked excitingly as he got his paws wet.

Jovonka chuckled at Elena’s request as she looked back at Alfie, seeing a few small drops of seawater stream down from his left cheek. 

“Alfie, come on, it’ll be fun,” Jovonka suggested while nodding her head towards the sea.

“No, no, you run alon’ yea, I’ll watch you, girls, while you have your fun,” Alfie said as Jovonka crossed her arms together, giving him an arched eyebrow and smoldering in his direction.

“Alright if you say so old man,” Jovonka said as she walked her way towards Elena, seeing she has got her bottom dress all wet now.

Alfie’s eyes grew wide at what Jovonka said and, without warning, he then walked right behind her and scooped her up bridal style. Jovonka yelped in surprise at Alfie’s unexpected action, while carrying her towards the water.

“Old man eh? Seems I have to show you that’ I ain’ such an old man that you think I am yea?” Alfie said jokingly as he felt the cold water under his feet while Jovonka blushed red on her cheeks.

As Elena, Jovonka, and Cyril were busy having a good time inside the water, Alfie couldn’t help but be memorized how Jovonka and Elena were enjoying their moment. Seeing both girls be this free and bright made Alfie realize that this is something they have been missing the most. Even if they have been far away from home for so long, Alfie would like to give them a better home than ever before. Giving them everything that he will give them even if it was something small and unnecessary. 

As it still lost Alfie at watching the girls splash more water at each other, Cyril then made way beside Alfie. Jovonka and Elena walked their way out of the water, now drenched from head to toe. Elena then jogged up to Cyril as the big mutt then gave kisses around the child’s small face.

“I think we should get going, Alfie. It is getting late now. I guess you have to take us back to the hotel, or I was thinking… if it’s alright we can stay at your house for tonight?” Jovonka said as she squirted some water out of her dress.

“I would love to, but your sister Isabel migh’ not take it too kindly since Elena is here with you,” Alfie said as he saw the now sleepy child on her knees while she rested her head against Cyril’s stomach.

“I guess you're right, but I’m sure Elena wouldn’t want to go back since she loves Cyril very much. Isabel shouldn’t mind it at all since I am with you and it’s best if we stay at your house. She can be very untrustworthy about you, but I know it’ll take time for her to see that you are not a threat,” Jovonka said as she untied her wet hair, feeling all heavy with water.

“I understand your sister completely but, if I was her yea, I would think the same thing. Jovonka, I think it’s better if I just take you back to your room. I just don’ want to cause more troub-.”

“Just take me back with you, please, for me and for Elena. Tomorrow morning, I will explain everything to her. I am with you and Elena is in your hands, too. I just want to be close to you. I can’t stand another night in having these nightmares anymore. Just take us back home, please?” Jovonka said, making those puppy eyes to Alfie as she placed her hands against his chest.

Alfie then just felt defeated just by the way Jovonka made those eyes. And without saying another single word, he just grunted and nodded his head. Jovonka then smiled as she placed a small kiss on his right cheek, a way for her to say ‘thank you’.

“I’ll carry Elena to the car. I hope this won’ get you into any trouble with Isabel. I tried to warn you, love,” Alfie said as he gently raised the now sleeping child in his arms, not wanting to wake her up.

“Alfie, don’t worry about it. I know my sister. She’ll understand. Come on now, let’s go home,” Jovonka said as she walked alongside Cyril with a big smile on her face.

Please don’t be mad at me for this Isabel…

✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨♥️🌹✨

A/N: Thank you guys again for reading and sticking around. As always please leave a like and reblog my story it will mean a lot. I am finally getting a new job guys so that is very exciting and again I'll be trying to get back to my Mad Max story as soon as possible. Again guys thank you so much and I'll catch you later. See Ya!!!

#alfie solomons x oc #tom hardy imagine #fanfic #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfi solomon x oc #alfie solomons x you #alfie x reader #Alfie Solomon's #tom hardy x reader #peaky blinders x oc #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky fookin blinders #peaky fucking blinders #peaky blinders alfie #pagan witch #pagan #dark ritual

[peakyblinders1919]

A GIF to distract you and create a scenario to write about if you wish. I thought Arthur since you’re working on an Alfie fic now. (I love this scene so much btw! His anger and irritation at Alfie’s greeting is the best!!)

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur!" The cockney accent nails on chalkboard to his ears. His shoulders tense, and his nostrils flare.

"You didn't tell me this is who you had a meeting with this morning. Would have liked to know this bastard'd be in my house this morning giving me my wake-up call."

"Excuse us a moment Mr. Solomons." Your soothing hand found home on your husband's shoulder, ushering him from the room to the hallway. Known as the brawn of his brothers, the gray wolf taking orders and carrying them with claws out, while his name is next to "Deputy Vice President" of the Shelby Company Limited on paper, everyone agreed you had the brains to back him up. Hence why the home office was your office, why you were in charge of setting up meetings and, coincidentally, forgetting to mention them to him.

"Arthur, Arthur, Arthur," when you said his name in that way you did it worked to ease his troubles, make his lips twitch into something that resembled a smile hidden under his mustache. You worked his muscles to loosen him up, knowing exactly what he needed to remain calm. “Now, I know you don’t like him, but you like money, don’t you?” You winked; he nodded almost reluctantly as if he knew where this was going. “He’s a trustworthy advisary.”

“Don’t you remember the time he-“

“Threw you behind bars. I know baby, I know.” You raked your hands down his face, wondering if he’d ever let it go. “But he’s proven himself after that, never double crossed us Shelby’s since. Brought in good money for us too, paid for that new little toy of yours in the garage.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he loosened up at the thought of the wind in his air, hitting the open road with his motorcycle. He was lost momentarily, until his nose twitched and he looked back down at you. “I thought we agreed you’d do dealings with him at the shop only.”

“He was traveling, closer to here than Birmingham,” you shrugged it off as if it was no big deal. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” There was a flicker behind his eyes, turning green with envy at fictitious thoughts swirling in his head. ”Because, we both know you’d never have agreed to it if I did. Isn’t it you who coined the phrase, “ask for forgiveness not permission.” Sometime since you’d been standing there, your hands laced around his neck, pulling him in close enough to get a whiff of your intoxicating perfume. “You didn’t ask Tommy permission to fuck me on his property, on his desk, in his house, in his car…” 

Suddenly his eyes were warm and soft again at the memories you’d kicked up. He kissed you suddenly, deeply, passionately, hands traveling farther south than you’d intended. Time stopped and time raced by in his arms, forgetting all about the waiting man in the office. 

You pulled back, his lips leaving you a little dizzy. “I don’t know how I’m going to properly negotiate now.”

“You’ll find a way, you always do baby.”

[nqzzxxiren]

Request box

By Nqzzxxiren

Hello my name is Lillian but you all can call me lilly, lil, or Ian I don't mind at all really you can give me a personal nickname that you made up for me.

I'm here to talk about the fandoms and other things that I could make for you guys (and I mean anything😉😉) so here's the list of fandoms I would make fanfictions or head cannons or scenarios anything you guys want!

Avatar

Jake

Neytiri

Tonowari

Ronal

Aonung

Tsireya

Lo'ak

Neteyam

Kiri

Spider

Quaritch

Roxto

Norm

Lyle

Tsu'tey

Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Crowley

Michael

Lucifer

Gabriel

Charlie Bradbury

Jo Harvelle

Jack Kline

Rowena MacLeod

Meg Masters

Benny Lafitte

Bela Talbot

The walking dead

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Carl Grimes

Michonne

Negan

Glenn Rhee

Maggie Greene

Gabriel

Ezekiel

Rosita Espinosa

Abraham Ford

Jesus

Aaron

Carol Peletier

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

James Potter

Luna Lovegood

Ron Weasley

Sirius Black

Neville Longbottom

Remus Lupin

Ginny Weasley

Lily Potter

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Tokio hotel

Bill Kaulitz

Tom Kaulitz

Georg Listing

Gustav Schäfer

Spider multiverse

Pavitr Prabhakar

Peter Parker

Miles Morales

Gwen Stacy

Miguel O'Hara

Hobie

Miles G. Morales/ Prowler

Jefferson Morales

Rio Morales

Teen wolf

Stiles Stilinski

Scott McCall

Derek Hale

Allison Argent

Lydia Martin

Isaac Lahey

Jackson Whittemore

Peter Hale

Malia Tate

Theo Raeken

Kira Yukimura

Peaky blinders

Tommy Shelby

Arthur Shelby

Grace Burgess

John Shelby

Alfie Solomons

Michael Gray

Finn Shelby

Ada Shelby

Gina Gray

Freddie Thorne

The lost boy

Michael Emerson

Marko

Edgar Frog

Alan Frog

Paul

Star

David

Sam Emerson

Dwayne

Hi nice to see ya👋🏾 if you don't see any of your favorite fandoms or characters please tell me so I can put them up but yea this is all and you can pick any character you want and whatever genre you want it to be, like fluff, smut, angst and any other

(also I'm not used to smut so if you request it then please be patient I will be trying I promise)

#reqs open #nqzzxxiren #avatar #supernatural #the walking dead #Harry Potter #spider multiverse #teen wolf #request box is open

[sopxhiea]

The House

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: As a prominent figure in his community, the gangster is given the duty of brining a lost girl back home and in the process, he finds himself in front of a young thing running a house.

Warning: Mentions of Abuse

“I said no.”

The dad comes in crying.

It’s easy to be fazed by things like this: a teary eyed parent or a small kid looking for their parent. A normal person’s reaction is to help, to get them where they need to be and keep them safe but gangsters have different ways of dealing with things.

And this is the last drop.

They have been visiting his office for a week, a tissue in their hand as they beg him to find the girl. She’s escaped, they say. Right after getting married to a wealthy bloke. He feels the need to question the marriage itself as a reason for the lass’ escape but his anger is boiling at the familiar scene before him.

Her name’s Leah, the dad tells him. Pretty as a peach, he mutters and Alfie thinks, we’ll see about that. He doesn’t do rescues, he protects the community as best as he can and donates to different places but that’s all he’s willing and able to do. He’s a busy fucking man, he mutters under his breath before nodding.

There’s always a first time for everything.

The building is a bit far away, takes Ollie a solid fifteen minute drive to get Alfie there. He has his cane in his hand, broad form walking in front with his hat in place. He reckons he’ll scare the housekeeper, her friend or whoever it ends up being. People know him around this part of town, know that he’s not to be messed with. 

He is a gangster after all, he thinks as he puffs his chest and knocks on the door. He’s a tough brute, someone with power in his presence. The building is smaller compared to the rest, exposed brick showing on the outside and he figures the lass lives here with an old maid who gave her a room. It’s cliche, isn’t it?

The bloke she got married to is probably not the best at handling a lass, he figures. He has seen his fair share of men treating women harsher than they needed to. Not that it’s any of his concern. He’s here to take the girl and get her to her parents’ house as they paid him to do. That’s all he’s here to do, he mutters and hears light footsteps on the other side of the door.

The door opens in one swift motion.

The frame opening the door is small, short enough to make Alfie almost slouch a little. Her eyes are questioning, fiery as he looks into them but not before he sizes her up. She is pretty as a peach, he thinks as he looks at the young girl before him and decides she isn’t Leah. Her features are etched with questions, eyebrows raised as if Alfie has just taken something from her. Oh, she’s proper lovely, he thinks before meeting her eyes.

And he’s still not speaking as you look at him.

You note the way the man’s standing, clearly confident as he stares at you. He’s not afraid to let his eyes roam a little before they land on your eyes and it makes your blood boil. Yet another man who thinks he can assault you with his eyes, you think as you sigh. It’s probably someone’s husband or boyfriend, expecting their girl to return home after a violent encounter.

You cross your arms as you speak, your voice softer than he’d expect. “Yeah?”

He almost chuckles.

Most of the time, people are respectful to him. That’s not to say that there hasn’t been a couple slip ups but he’s managed them well, he thinks. He thinks it’s obvious, that you should know who he is and what he does and settles that you don’t. And you don’t seem to care as you wait for an answer.

If anything, it’s the opposite. Your pretty features are raised in a way that tells him you don’t want him there, that he’s a nuisance for the three seconds that you’ve known him. Your arms aren’t crossed yet, and he’s thankful for the loss of buffer before his senses alert him of clues.

He notes the warmth coming from the inside, the smells tell him something’s cooking. His eyes roam into the entrance corridor but before he can gather more clues, your slam the door behind you and cross your arms at last.

The fucking balls on this girl, he thinks.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for or you just want a house tour?” you speak, tone stern and Alfie revels in the anger etches in your face for a second.

Women usually aren’t angry with him. No one can afford to be, he cockily reminds himself. He has crushed a man’s windpipe with his left hand before, killed men with bare hands so people step on eggshells around him, quiet and obedient which is the opposite of everything the fiery minx before him is doing. 

But he’s intrigued, mostly because no one talks to him this way anymore.

“’m lookin’ for Leah, lass.” he says, deciding he wants to get this over with before the sun sets but realizes, maybe not as he watches your features change. 

“Leah who?” you say, tongue wetting your lips and he’s slightly in trance before nodding with a chuckle.

“Wouldn’t fuckin’ go there if I were you, yeah.” he says, chuckling as he speaks.

He knows Leah is inside somewhere but there’s a front you put up and he thinks, he’d rather get through it than break it. There’s chatter coming from the inside, women giggling as the sound of dishes can be heard. Alfie notes the way your eyes keep themselves harsh, gaze not wavering as you don’t break eye contact.

You’ve done this before, he thinks.

The house behind you is a safe house of sorts for women around. It’s a secret, as far you’re aware and only whispered in hushes between women who are in need of a place to stay and warm food. The house gives them that, and much more: from friends to a safe haven and even jobs sometimes. You don’t run the house, just do errands here and there but you’re also the one organizing stuff with the permission of the main lady, Lidia.

Men usually come around with guns in hand, threatening you or the girls with meaningless words until they get to see their wives or girlfriends but it never happens. They’re usually chased by a bullet from your gun or sometimes a butter knife, whatever comes in handy. You’ve been trained in the right way to handle angry men but the one before you doesn’t seem to be as lashed out.

“You’re not welcome here.” you speak, half-aware of who you’re speaking to.

You’re young, he thinks. Too young to be doing this but your actions speak to differ. He’s sure you’ve at least heard of him but only the ghost of the wandering jew can be mentioned in the street, not his face. He can see the harsh lines form on your pretty face, ready to attack if need be but he decides he’ll choose to solve this verbally. 

“Who do ya’ think I am, hm?” he asks and slightly leans forward.

Your response comes in a second, like you already knew he was gonna ask you this very question. “A stranger, as far as I’m concerned.”

So you don’t know, he thinks and concludes your bravery comes from the lack of information.

But he’s never been more wrong.

“Name’s Solomons, lass.” he says and waits for a gasp, a widening in your eyes and a clutch to your chest. If he’s honest, he’s waiting for you to go pale and let him in.

But nothing. You do nothing.

The name’s a one you heard of but it makes no difference in your eyes. You’ve had men threaten you with rifles so nothing surprises you. Making a mental scan of the girls inside, you realize this man is not here for his woman but something else. But that still doesn’t change anything.

“....okay.” you say and nod. It almost makes him angry that you don’t know him but he figures he’ll speak to someone in charge.

“Who runs this fuckin’ house?” he says and takes a step towards you.

And that’s when it happens.

There’s a knife on his chest and the moment he moves just an inch, it’ll go through his heart. He doesn’t know how or when it got there, only that you’re holding it with steady hands as you dare him to move with your eyes. 

“I said no.”  You give him a smile then fuck, he thinks. You’d be a lovely dinner date if this was a different situation. You push the knife just a little and he takes a step back. He hasn’t surrendered, not the man for the job but he’s extremely intrigued. He watches you look at him from head to toe before speaking, your tone is far from amused.

“Please don’t come back, there’s no girl for you to rescue here.” you say and curtsy, fucking curtsy with a mocking smile on your lips before slamming the door on his face.

And he settles that he likes you.

---

The mountain will not come to him, so he decides he’ll bring the mountain herself into his office.

He’s asked around and learned that the house was in fact a shelter. All his men were able to gather were vague information about who had been there before and the older women who managed the place. He hadn’t heard anything about the fiery woman who had greeted him and decided it was best to talk to her than to search for things on the street.

But what he doesn’t except is your annoyed grunts as you walk in the corridor leading to his office.

He’s seating on his usual place, the leather chair that has taken the shape of his muscular back. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, no smile as he skims through the pages before him. The white sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, exposing a good amount of skin and the golden glisten of his rings as his hands move around the space.

A grunt comes from the other side of the door to his office and he halts, movement slowing immediately as he waits for something to happen. He hears a ‘don’t you fucking touch me!’ from the voice he’d been expecting and that’s when you burst open the door with a stale gaze.

Oh, you’re just a vision, he thinks.

You don’t look at him when you enter the office but the men who were sent out to get you from the house who had tried to touch you. You were defensive to say the least, and with good reason too. The punch to Abe, Alfie’s driver’s face had been well deserved but he didn���t need to know that just yet. You threw a glare towards the men’s way before facing the gangster.

Lidia had told you about him ever since his visit.

The older woman had told you to be careful, extremely cautious when it came to him. Apparently he was a gangster. Stella, a girl from the Italian gang in London had stayed in the house for a bit so you knew a thing or two but decided it was best to keep things as civil as possible, especially after the knife incident.

Not that you regretted it, not in the slightest.

You sighed before propping yourself on the chair in front of his desk. He had been watching you for a while, Ollie had told him about the punch to Abe’s face as well and it had made him snicker. He liked you. You raised your eyebrows once more, the unamused expression he was growing used to.

“You sent your men to handle me.” you spoke as a matter of fact, simply seeming bored and uninterested. He had a gun in the left drawer, you’d heard but it didn’t scare you. The blade strapped to your thigh spoke for that.

“Too rough?” he spoke, a hint of a smile on his lips as he rested his elbows on the wooden surface of his desk.

You shook your head, like it was obvious and spoke while your eyes roamed around the room. “Not too tough.”

“No fuckin’ doubt you’ll be able to handle yerself, eh, lass?” he spoke, not much of a question at this point but you threw a glare his way before speaking.

He watched the way your hair moved, framing the delicate features of your face as he stared. No matter how annoyed or unamused you looked, there was a softness provided by your features, given by young age as well.

“I did punch your driver so you wouldn’t be wrong.” you spoke, amused for the first time in his short time of knowing you. You watched the way his eyes deepened for a second before you spoke again. “He needs to watch his hands.” you stated, like it was a simple deed and Alfie nodded.

He was almost getting away from the point.

“So this Leah lass, yeah, she in your fuckin’ house?” he asked, knowing the answer was yes but you wouldn’t outright say it to begin with. 

He knew the game.

You looked at his eyes first and then his golden rings, no doubt a sign of power and the crown tattoo was obvious. He was surely a man of influence but not on you. It wasn’t easy to scare you this way.

You nodded this time, knowing fully that his resources would give the answer away and you were in the lion’s den now, might as well give him the correct answer. “It’s not my house...” you whispered and he caught something.

He could see it from the youth etched on your pretty features that you could only have so much experience in this. He was a young lad going to war around your age but now that he was a man of wisdom, provided by the many scars carved into his skin, he knew of moments of doubt.

But you recovered fast enough.

“You know why she came to the house in the first place?” your voice was neutral this time, making him think you were genuine in your search of the answer.

“She fuckin’ ran away, innit.” he spoke with a lower tone this time and watched your features morph into a one of slight disappointment. He stalled, waited for a proper answer and you were sure to give him one.

“The husband’s been abusing her. She escaped for a safer life.” you stated and he didn’t speak for a while.

He was just meant to get the girl and deliver her to the parents. What was happening behind closed doors was not any of his business. But he wasn’t a man to leave a lady this way so he stopped for a second and spoke.

“If you take her back then he’s going to repeat the same things and the family doesn’t care enough to do anything.” you spoke, no hint of pity in your voice but pure emotion. And that’s what he saw in your eyes when you locked gazes with him as well.

“Why should I then, hm?” he spoke, the swearing put aside when it came to things like these. It fit him though, you thought. A foul mouth to go with his surprisingly handsome face. It wasn’t surprising that he was handsome, just that a jewish gangster named Alfie would be attractive.

“I’m not asking you to care. Just let her stay in the house, act like you don’t know.” you spoke, not asking for mercy but understanding. You were sure he wasn’t that stupid to give Leah away once more.

“The fuck do I get in return?” he spoke, hands moving in the air with meaningless motions and you straightened on the chair.

He’s good at reading people.

Maybe it’s the years of handling men and seeing countless faces every day but he can read people faster than the usual person. But he can’t seem to measure what you’re going to say. He waits instead, sees the gears in your head turning.

Be careful, Lidia had said.

But that never got you what you wanted.

You crossed your legs, his eyes momentarily shifting to where the movement was before they landed on your eyes again. Licking your lips, you spoke. You had enough information to know he was a man of business, one that offered deal or death and you didn’t want to see your family just yet.

“How about we make a deal?” you spoke, voice not wavering as he looked at you. He nodded, eyes twitching with the slightest motion before he spoke, hands now resting on top of his belly.

“What fuckin’ deal?” he asks with no emotion to his voice and you wonder what has made him like this.

“I’m told you offer protection.” you speak and he tilts his head a little to get a better look at your face. You then go on, not getting away from your initial point. “Now, keep in mind that only some of the girls in the house are jewish, I’d like to pay for you to protect the house.”

His eyes glisten then.

So this is where the lost Jewish girls had been kept. He’d heard stories of younger women disappearing, most families had thought it was just an escape but this gave Alfie an in, something to hold in his hand when he was being pressured by certain other people. This was a win on his part.

“From what exactly?” he spoke, ready to make fun of the entire ordeal but you spoke too fast, obvious that you were serious.

“Drunken husbands with guns in their hands.” you said and something flashed across his eyes.

He knew of the women.

Not by name but it was common occurrence to see a married women being chased by their so called husbands. You’d seen your fair share of it, had shot a couple of them too but men were usually relentless, clueless as to what ‘go away’ meant. 

He wasn’t a man to let this happen, women getting beaten or harmed. He loved women, he reminded himself. Their softness and kind hearts, the compassion in their hearts. He also didn’t mind that most were a marvel to look at, especially you, he added in his mind as he considered with a hand tugging at his beard.

“My rates are fuckin’ high, lass.” he spoke, testing the waters. He was thinking of making the deal but the terms would vary in his favor. He’d make sure of it.

“We have funds.” you said and he raised his eyebrows. 

It was obvious that you weren’t going to let him know any new information about the house. It was hard to get things from you, he concluded. Your lips were sealed and he wondered if they paid you for certain things or not. You didn’t seem to mind when dragged into a gangster’s illegal distillery and it made him think you’d been in worse situations, your age didn’t matter.

He nodded and realized you probably knew the rates already. The house had seemed to be taken care of, with the condition it was in. You spoke before he could say what was on his mind but you’d figured he was a relatively silent man to begin with.

“So we got a deal?” you asked, clearly bored at the interaction at this point and he marveled at the braveness you seemed to possess.

He looked at you through clouded eyes, hand tugging at his beard before he abruptly got up and spat on his palm before extending it to you. You took a tissue from your bag and put it on your palm before shaking his hand. Sure, the deal was done but you weren’t going to do christening his way. He shook your hand firmly with the hint of a smile on his lips and you let his hand go.

He soon concluded that this was the least amount of negotiation he had gone through before he made a deal and Ollie watched the entire interaction with peak curiosity in his eyes. His tempered and grumpy boss had been nothing but pleasant in front of a girl half his size. He watched you get up and throw him a small smile.

And he made his decision.

Before you exited the office, you realized he had been watching you like a hawk stalking its prey and you realized a little mercy would do. He heard your voice right before you exited through the front door, an evident smile on your lips. “Name’s Y/N by the way.”

And your words echoed through the space for a minute before the sound disappeared.

Alfie decided he’d pay a visit to the infamous house sometime soon.

-----

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a/n: Hellooo. It’s been some time since I last posted something but hopefully you like it! There will be more chapters of this so stay tunneddd. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and what you thought of the chapter <3

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