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rubysunnday · 3 years

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kill of the night

A/N: It's been almost two years since I started this blog. My first work on here was for Peaky Blinders. But with the show coming to an end, my inspiration lacking and new shows taking my interest, I have decided to bid farewell to writing for this fandom. A special shoutout to @smallheathgangsters @lotsoflovefromlea @theshelbyclan and @murswrites for being my first friends on here and for supporting me throughout. I genuinely would not still be writing if it wasn't for you lot.

And so, without much further emoness, welcome to my final fic for Peaky Blinders - a suitably angst ridden, shelby!sis ft Bonnie Gold story as a final send off

💜

It was hard to stop staring at herself in the mirror. Y/N was struggling to accept the fact that she looked gorgeous and that she was wearing one of the most expensive dresses she'd ever owned. She poked at her hair again, neatly curled and set as hard as a rock, and sighed, standing up straight.

She pulled on the straps of her dress, pulling the golden fabric back up her shoulder and then tugging the front down until it was back in position. The golden tassels swished as Y/N spun around, checking the back was still done up.

It was weird. Dressing up in high-end fashion and makeup after years of poverty and barely surviving. Sometimes, it almost felt like a dream - one she would inevitably awake from and realise she was still in Watery Lane sharing a bed with Finn.

But this was her life now. The expensive shoes, the diamond jewellery and the expensive painitngs. Tommy Shelby had fought his way to the top and dragged his family with him, ignoring their kicking and screaming the entire time. Y/N had lost so much in the process but, just for tonight, she wouldn't change it for anything.

There was a dull ache in Y/N's chest as she put her necklace on - one that John had given her so many years ago. It had gotten easier, she couldn't lie. There were days - weeks, sometimes - when she wished he was still here but ultimately, she couldn't afford to dwell in the past.

After all, dwelling in the past had gotten her brother killed.

Y/N snatched her coat up from the back of her chair and draped it over her arm as she picked up her golden heels and left her room, shutting the door behind her with a kick of her foot.

"Y/N, for fuck's sake how long does it take to out a dress on, Jesus Christ!"

"Alright, Tommy, just because you don't give a shit about your appearance doesn't mean the rest of us can't," Y/N muttered, jogging down the stairs to the foyer.

Tommy looked up as she jumped down the last few steps and then slipped her heels on, leaning on the wall. He rubbed his cigarette between his lips as he eyed his sister.

"You look nice," Tommy grunted, clicking his lighter into life and lighting the end of his cigarette.

"Thanks," Y/N replied, shuffling her foot into the shoe. "Where's Lizzie?"

"She's running late - feeling under the weather," Tommy said, exhaling the smoke and sighing as he blew it out. "Ada said she'll pick her up in a bit."

"So, it's just us for now?"

"Yep." Tommy picked up his coat and whipped it on, flicking the collar up and then down. "Come on, I've got shit to do."

Y/N rolled her eyes but followed her brother out the front door. She opened her purse and dropped her lipstick in it - the metal container lying amongst her perfume, powder and her hand gun.

"Y/N!"

"Fucking hell, Tommy, I'm coming," Y/N muttered, slamming the front door shut and walking over to the car. "What is so urgent? The match doesn't even fucking start until seven."

"I have business to attend to beforehand," Tommy grunted, setting the car into gear and pulling out the driveway.

"Does that business begin with Alfie and end with Solomons?" Y/N asked, pulling her shawl around her shoulders and bunching it in front of her chest.

"I hate how fucking perceptive you are," Tommy muttered, purposefully putting her down a pothole.

"Everyone does, darling, everyone does," Y/N said, sighing to herself.

Fists meeting flesh, yelling, swearing and the heavy stench of sweat and smoke filled the hall. The lights shining down onto the boxing ring were forcing the temperature of the room up.

Yet Y/N was having the time of her life.

"Go on, Bonnie!" Y/N yelled, jumping to her feet as he landed a decent punch to his opponent's stomach.

Here, she didn't have to pretend that she didn't enjoy the violence or that it disgusted her. She could enjoy it. Rising through the ranks of society had come with its pitfalls and to be honest, Y/N missed the random street fights she and Finn would get involved in. She missed coming back from school littered in bruises and scrapes but beaming with pride at knocking down some misogynistic boy.

The first round came to a sudden end and Y/N jumped up from her seat and weaved through the men until she was outside the hall. She pulled her cigarette case out of her purse and walked down the corridor until she was outside the side door.

She only had to wait a few minutes.

"You look horrible," Y/N said as Bonnie appeared through the door, covered in sweat, blood dripping from his lip and nose, panting for air.

"You look fucking beautiful," Bonnie replied, stepping closer and pinning her to the wall. He leant his head down and captured her lips with his, leaving a lingering kiss behind as he let go. "Oh, what I would give to rip that dress off and have you right now."

"If only you weren't sweaty and covered in blood," Y/N replied, pushing her index finger into his chest and shoving him backwards. "I'm going to the bathroom before you ask," she said, taking his hand and walking backwards.

"I am going to go back to my fight," Bonnie said, following her down the corridor, a stupid grin on his face.

Y/N yelped as Bonnie shoved her against the bathroom door, biting her lip as he kissed her, his hands trailing up the back of her thighs, bunching her dress up higher and higher.

"Nope, nope, no, not whilst you are so disgusting," Y/N said, pushing him off her. "I want you to have at least stuck your head in a bucket before you take my clothes off."

"You are no fun, Miss Shelby," Bonnie muttered, kissing her again. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed, closing his eyes. "I'd better go."

"Just think of it this way: the sooner you win, lose, whatever it is you are meant to be doing, the sooner you can have me... all of me," Y/N added, looking at him. "Now," she pushed a manicured fingernail into his chest and pushed him back. "Go."

Bonnie rolled his eyes but left, jogging down the corridor and back to the hall. Y/N yanked her dress back down and shook her hair out. She leant back against the bathroom door, biting her lip as she smiled, relishing the taste of Bonnie's lips on hers.

Y/N pushed open the door and walked into the bathroom, coming to a sudden halt as she came face to face with Polly and Lizzie staring at her with matching stupid smiles.

"Oh, fuck off," Y/N said, walking over to the sink.

"I suspected it was gypsy boy," Polly said, smirking.

"What, did your tea leaves tell you so?" Y/N asked, turning to face her aunt and raising her eyebrows.

Polly whacked Y/N on the arm and she yelped, dodging back and rubbing her arm.

"Ow, what the fuck, Pol?"

"Have some respect for your elders," Polly ordered, pointing her finger at her.

The bathroom door swung open again and Ada walked in, dressed in pink and gold. "This fight is fixed right?" She asked, approaching her sister. "Gypsy boy is getting battered."

Y/N rolled her eyes, pushing herself up onto the sink and swinging her legs. "Yes, the fight is fixed. Bon knows what he's doing."

"Bon?" Ada asked, raising her eyebrows incredulously. "ucking hell, Y/N, how far have you fallen for him?"

"Aight, can you two just please shut the fuck up," Y/N asked, glaring at her aunt and sister. "Fucking hell."

"Right, you said you had some news," Ada said, effortlessly switching the conversation away from Bonnie.

"Lizzie has some news," Polly corrected, looking at Lizzie in the mirror.

Lizzie turned around and gave Polly an irritated glare. "Polly!"

"Well, tell them, go on," Polly said, picking a cigarette out from her silver case. "Now!" Polly handed Y/N a clear bottle of vodka. "Have a swig - you'll need it."

Y/N took the bottle and uncorked it, taking a sip before Lizzie could even speak. "Go on."

Lizzie sighed. "I'm up the duff."

Y/N choked on the vodka. "Eh?"

Lizzie turned around, leaning against the sink with a loud exhale. "And it's Tommy's."

Y/N stared. "Have you lost your mind, Lizzie?"

"She's certainly lost something," Ada muttered, too quiet for anyone but Y/N to hear. "How far gone are you?"

"If we were going to London, I'd be in Conventry."

Y/N raised her eyebrows. "Wow. I mean, sorry, just wow." Y/N shook her head. "Congratulations!" She exclaimed, jumping off the sink and hugging Lizzie tightly.

The bathroom door opened once more and a grumpy looking Linda walked in, a face like thunder.

"Hey, Linda!" Polly called. "Welcome to the extraordinary general meeting of the Shelby Ladies Club!"

"The men out there are disgusting," Linda moaned, taking her fur off.

"Well, it is a boxing match, what were you expecting?" Y/N asked, touching up her lipstick. She put the cap back on it and smacked her lips together. "Which, by the way, I am going to return to."

"Why, so you can kiss your new boy toy?" Ada asked, raising her eyebrows and winking.

Y/N gave her sister the middle finger over her back as she walked out of the bathroom. There had been a reason why she hadn't explicitly told anyone about her and Bonnie. Her last relationship with Isaiah had been subjected to her brother's brutal opinion's and had ended before it really even began.

So Y/N had no qualms with keeping Bonnie to herself for a bit longer.

She was immediately assaulted by screaming, smoke and someone shouldering past her without a word of apology.

"Oi, watch it you - Arthur, where the fuck are you going?" Y/N asked, stumbling back as he barged past.

"Don't matter, go sit back down," Arthur grunted, walking off without even properly acknowledging her.

Y/N turned and watched Arthur burst out the doors, swinging them open so hard they bounced off the walls. She hesitated for a moment before following after him, not trusting him to be sensible.

"Arthur, where the fuck are you going?" Y/N called, following him down a dimly lit corridor, the sound of the fight fading the further away she got.

Arthur growled and turned back, marching up to her. "Y/N, stay out of it, aight? Go back to the fight."

"Arthur, don't you dare order me around like I'm ten!" Y//N yelled, throwing her hands up in despair as he walked off and ignored her. "For fuck's sake."

She sighed and ran a hand along her stomach, trying to calm her temper. Y/N walked down the corridor and into the changing room, sitting down on the bench and groaning to herself.

She was sick and tired of her brothers diminishing her and pretending she didn't exist. God, all she wanted to do was try and help and yet they never seemed to want her around anymore.

As brilliant as being rich was, Y/N yearned for the simpler days. The days when they were together in one room, eating the food Polly had cooked from the scraps they could afford.

Y/N looked up as a door squeaked open. She frowned, sitting up straighter, her hand disappearing into her bag and pulling out her gun.

"Arthur?" Y/N called, standing up and approaching the door. "Arthur, stop fucking around."

Y/N took a gentle step forward, trying to quiet the sound of her heels on the tiled floor.

Something suddenly went around her throat and she was yanked back into a man's chest. Y/N gasped and choked as she tried to pull the wire away from her throat, blood dripping down as it cut into her skin. Y/N choked, feeling the air in her lungs vanishing as she desperately tried to fight off the man behind her, wrestling with him.

Y/N fumbled around with her gun, trying not to lose her grip on the metal. She got her finger on the trigger and fired a single shot, the shell bouncing off the wall. The man forced the gun out of her fingers and it clattered to the floor.

Y/N's legs gave out from under her and she fell to the floor, black spots dancing across her vision as the wire was tightened. It cut into her neck, deepening the cut and causing more blood to drip down onto her golden dress.

The man dropped her to the floor as her consciousness faded, no care for how her body slumped onto the tiled floor, blood running onto the tiles and seeping underneath her. Y/N blearily stared ahead, unable to move or do anything, and saw the man pick up her gun, turning and aiming it at her.

Another gunshot echoed out and the man fell to the floor, a bullet hole in his chest.

Arthur leapt over the body of the man who'd attacked his sister and fell to his knees beside her, lifting her up into his arms. "Y/N, hey, come on, Y/N!"

Tommy burst into the room and skidded to a halt, staring at Y/N and the blood staining her and Arthur.

"Arthur, go find Finn and Isaiah," Tommy said, walking up to him and pushing him to his feet. "Go on! Go!"

Arthur reluctantly backed away from Y/N, letting Tommy take his place, lifting her limp form into his arms and pressing his hand to her throat. Her eyes were closed and he skin was lacking any colour - far too much blood was seeping out her throat and neck and onto the floor and her dress. She looked dead.

"Stay with me, sweetheart," Tommy muttered, rocking her back and forth the way he used to when she was a baby. "Just stay with me."

Tommy looked up and made a decision. He got up, blood staining his hands and shirt, and left Y/N on the tiled floor. He burst around the corner and faced Polly, gun aimed at him. She relaxed but then spot the blood on his hands and her eyes widened, panic taking over.

Tommy caught her, holding her back from going into the room and seeing the horror. He knew he spoke but he couldn't hear himself speak - ringing was taking over his hearing and he was in a daze. He didn't remember walking back to the hall, he didn't remember climbing onto the boxing ring and he didn't remember firing his gun into the air and screaming at a room of strangers that his sister was dead.

All he remembered was Charlie taking the gun off him and hugging him, falling to the floor with him as Tommy realised the truth of what had happened. His sister was dead.

Two black horses pulled the green and blue wagon down Watery Lane. The street was lined with mourners dressed in black, the women with veils covering their broken faces, the men holding their hats against their chests.

Tommy walked behind the wagon in the middle of the family. Arthur to his left, Polly to his right. Finn and Ada walked behind, Michael next to them.

Tommy had hoped - had been so certain - that he wouldn't have to bury another sibling. That he would be dead long before that time came. But here he was, cap between his hands, eyes cast down low.

He was ashamed of himself, for letting his little sister get involved in the dark, grimy world in the first place. For letting her become exposed to the horrors the world was home to. Tommy inhaled deeply and sighed, his eyes focused on his feet as they walked.

First John. Now Y/N.

They'd be buried next to each other on the hill where their mother was. Y/N's wagon was adjourned with violets and iris - as was her gravestone. It was the brightest and most colourful one up on the hill. Just like her.

Long after everyone left, Tommy stayed by himself on the hill, looking down at the grave. He ran a cigarette across his lips and lit it, inhaling deeply.

"Death feel good?" He asked, exhaling the smoke as he spoke.

A veiled woman came to stand next to him, hands clasped around a bunch of violets.

"Death is peaceful," Y/N said softly. "I appreciate it."

"Good."

Neither sibling spoke. Y/N walked forward and crouched down, laying the flowers against the gravestone with her name upon it.

Y/N Shelby

Beloved sister and friend

'Greed may do your bidding, but death serves no man'

"Where will you go?" Tommy asked, looking down at his cigarette.

"Travelling with Bonnie. Might find Esme."

"Good."

Tommy inhaled on his cigarette once more before dropping it to the wet grass and stamping it out with the heel of his shoe. "See you around, sister."

Y/N nodded, looking down at her grave. "See you, Tommy."

Tommy walked away, his black shrouded figure disappearing down the hill. Y/N sighed, shaking her head slightly as she looked up. The fog hung low over the fields, clinging to the trees like a blanket.

"How was he?" Bonnie asked, appearing from behind a statue.

"Same," Y/N said quietly. "Distinct lack of giving a shit."

Bonnie hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You're dead now, love. You don't have to worry about them." Bonnie paused. "Do you miss them?"

"No."

Bonnie lifted his head and gave her a surprised look. "None of them?"

"Ada and Finn perhaps but..." Y/N sighed. "The one person I would miss died a long time ago, Bonnie. Nothing has been right without him."

"I understand, love," Bonnie said quietly. "I'm glad you're still here."

"Me too, my love, me too."

Y/N sighed and dropped her head onto Bonnie's shoulder, looking down at her flower adjourned grave once more. She felt at peace and at one with the world for the first time in years. Only in death could such peace be achieved and that's, essentially, what she was. Dead to everyone Tommy.

Who knew how peaceful death could be?

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #shelby sis #shelby sister #shelby sister imagines #shelby sis imagines #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x shelby!sis #shelby!sis #tommy shelby imagines #tommy shelby x reader

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iamnotawomanimagod · 3 years

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Foreshadowing in the Fear Street Trilogy - A Masterlist

If I miss any, please feel free to add on to this post!

Note: There are instances of parallel scenes that I decided not to include. I think that could be an entire post of equal length all on its own.

Also, major spoilers below.

Fear Street: 1994

● When Heather is closing down the bookstore, she tries to close the gate and it gets stuck. Later, in FS: 1666, Ziggy tries to close this same gate and it gets stuck again.

● Ryan slashes at what we think is Heather in the Spencer’s (although the store is never explicitly called that,) but it turns out to be a blow up doll. Later in FS: 1994, Sam is seemingly attacked by the Nightwing Killer in the bathroom stall, but he actually hits a mannequin instead.

● Ryan attacks Heather in the bookstore, but she avoids getting stabbed because she’s holding a book in front of her stomach. Later, in FS: 1666, Deena creates body armor out of books, and this saves her from Nick Goode’s attempted stabbing.

● Shadyside’s team name is the Witches. Sunnyvale’s is the Devils. The entire conflict of the trilogy is between the “witch” Sarah Fier, and the Devil, as summoned by the Goode family.

● Simon is shown pulling a stash of pills (aka “the candy store”) out of the vent in the bathroom. Later on in FS: 1994, Sam uses this vent to crawl out of the bathroom and escape the Shadyside Killers.

● Simon talks about his brother overdosing and then being revived when the trio is hanging out in the bathroom. Later on in FS: 1994, the trio attempt to do the same thing with Sam.

● Also in the bathroom, Simon jokes that Deena might have “a little of the witch in her.” Later in FS: 1666, Deena actually “becomes” the witch when Sarah exacts her revenge against the Goode family through Deena.

● Deena is talking to Sam at the vigil about how everything always goes wrong in Shadyside, and she says to Sam, “if you’re lucky, you’re the one holding the knife.” Later on in FS: 1994, Sam is possessed by the Devil and stabs Deena.

● Kate drops off the kids she’s babysitting at “Mrs. Lane’s” house. Later in FS: 1978, we meet this neighbor as she was then - Nurse Lane, Ruby Lane’s mother, and Ziggy’s friend. Ziggy and Nurse Lane also get to reunite at the end of the series.

● Kate and Nurse Beddy refer to the drugs they sell under fruit codenames - one of them is “blueberries,” which Kate tells Josh is code for Vicodin. Vicodin is a powerful opioid. Later in FS: 1666, Lizzie, Hannah, and Sarah go to the widow to steal blue berries, which induce opioid-like effects in those that consume them.

● Deena offers Sam her sweater, and tells her, “If you get blood on it, I’ll kill you.” Sam gets slashed by the Shadyside Mall Killer, and gets blood on the sweater. Later on, Deena actually does kill Sam in order to stop the curse.

● In FS: 1994, when Sheriff Goode is talking to Martin, who is in jail for vandalism, he says what seems to be a joke, “Actually, these are my [spray cans.]” It turns out it wasn’t a joke at all, and Goode was responsible for all of the graffiti.

● In the same scene, Martin says, “More like Sheriff motherfucking Evil!” in reference to Goode’s last name. At that point, we still believe Goode to be, well, a good guy, so it comes off as comic relief. But on rewatch, Martin’s prescience is quite chilling.

● Deena tells Sam that when it’s all over, she’s going to take her on a date, where they can eat cheeseburgers, make out, and listen to the Pixies. In FS: 1666, she and Sam do exactly that in the final scene of the trilogy.

● Josh helps Martin in FS: 1994 by passing him a paper clip so he can get out of his handcuffs. Martin slips him a business card, telling Josh, “I owe you one.” Later, in FS: 1666, the group goes to Martin to recruit him in killing Goode and stopping the curse. Martin goes from a comic relief cliche to a vital part of the team, thanks to his inner knowledge of the mall.

● Fun side detail - Martin lives on Fier Street. He was destined to be apart of this crew.

● Sam and Deena are laying together at the end of FS: 1994, when it seems like things are going to be okay. The song that plays in the background has the lyrics, “Must be a devil between us.” Sam is literally possessed by the Devil at that moment in time.

Fear Street: 1978

● When Nick is running around trying to collect campers, he gets blood on his hands when he finds some of their bodies. Kurt sees him and asks, “Jesus man...did you do this??” As we know, Nick Goode actually did do it.

● During the Camp Nightwing massacre, Sunnyvalers never get killed. It’s all Shadysiders. Throughout the night, Sunnyvalers are seen leaving Shadysiders alone, only for the Shadysiders to be immediately killed by Thomas. In other words - the Devil was letting Sunnyvalers live while killing the Shadysiders.

● Nick says to Ziggy, “I know I’ve let a lot of people die tonight, but I’m not letting you die.” It seems like Nick is just taking responsibility as a counselor, but he’s actually lowkey admitting the truth to Ziggy. And, true to his word, he does not let Ziggy die that night! In what seems like an error and is actually foreshadowing, Nick is able to revive Ziggy with CPR, despite the fact that she has multiple stab wounds. We later find out this is because the Goode family gets whatever they want. Nick wanted Ziggy to survive, so she did.

● When Nick is attacked by the Nightwing Killer, he is left wounded, but the Killer never finishes the job. It should’ve been very, very easy for him to, but he leaves Nick and goes after Ziggy instead.

● The song playing when Nick revives Ziggy? “The Man Who Sold the World” - and Nick Goode and his family have been selling out the rest of the world for their own gain for centuries.

Fear Street: 1666

● Constance and some of the other children are playing a rhyming game in the town center. Pastor Miller is there, using a hook pick to clean some debris from a horse’s hoof. The children sing the rhyme, “Pastor Miller blind as a bat, tried to read the Bible and his eyes went splat!” The pastor playfully chases the children away with the hook pick. Chillingly, the pastor rips out all of the children’s eyes, as well as his own, with that exact same hook knife.

● Solomon comforts Sarah by telling her that one cannot summon the Devil by chance, that they have to extend their hand and make a choice. As we find out later in the film... he would know!

● Red moss appears throughout all three films in key locations. We find out in FS: 1666 that Hannah wore this moss in a crown during the full moon party, and that she eventually buries Sarah with it on her head.

● Sarah tells Hannah that when it’s all over, they would go somewhere they could dance the night away, and kiss in the daylight. The final scene of the film is Deena and Sam dancing, and kissing in the bright daylight. This date takes place where Sarah is buried, on top of the red moss.

I am certain I am missing a few, so please feel free to add onto this post!

#I really cannot believe how layered and well written this slasher series is #fear street #fear street spoilers #fear street 1994 #fear street 1978 #fear street 1666 #it took me three days of repeated viewings but I think I got most of them #long post

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devilsskettle · 3 years

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okay i want to shut up about fear street more than anyone else wants me to shut up about fear street but i just thought of another reason why it drives me up the wall thinking about how underutilized and underwritten ziggy is in the 1994 part of the plot line: in a movie series where one of the main themes is cyclical forms of violence and trauma, where there’s a focus on characters resolving the conflicts of their narrative parallels from the past, even if the writers didn’t expect the audience to identify with/care about ziggy as an adult, she is a representation for our protagonists of their potential futures.

for sam, this is pretty clear, since it’s the narrative reason why they go to her in the first place (seeing the witch and temporarily dying, she represents the hope that there’s a way to break the curse).

for josh, she is a perfect parallel to the stakes for him of trying to save sam - losing his older sister as she sacrifices herself to try to save the people she loves. i was actually surprised that these characters didn’t sympathize and identify with each other more, like in the mall scene when josh is like “too many people have died i’m not going to let them take my sister too!” and ziggy and martin just stand there like. okay i guess. that was such a weird writing choice to me lol i was like why wasn’t that a moment for ziggy to identify with him as someone who lost a sister like this. make it make sense. (also i’ve seen some people say that in interviews, it’s been said that cindy and alice are meant to parallel the relationship between sam and deena, so i think that would situate ziggy and josh as playing comparable roles in each plot line as well).

for deena, i think she’s the most apt reflection of her potential future out of all three main characters. first of all, they’re the most similar in terms of personality: cynical social outcasts convinced the world is fucked who actually care a lot more than they let on. and again, she is living the consequences of what the stakes are of trying to break this curse. the main risk for deena isn’t that she might die, it’s that everyone she cares about will die and she’ll be trapped alone in a town she hates, just like ziggy.

this would also mean that adult ziggy would play a similar role to the kids in 1994 as nurse lane did for her in 1978. like. god. do you ever think about how nurse lane was the one person who was nice to her and cared about her, and ziggy was the only person who noticed that something was wrong and she was the only one who didn’t write her off as crazy and violent like her daughter when she attacked tommy and instead actually sympathized with her, but no one believed nurse lane, and then no one believed ziggy about what really happened during the camp nightwing massacre, and how they both had to live not only with the loss of their loved ones but also the doubt and mockery of everyone in town who thought they were just crazy. anyway. ziggy similarly is the only adult in town (other than, eventually, martin) who believes and is willing to help the kids in 1994 at the expense of her own safety, just like nurse lane tried her best to protect the kids at camp at the expense of her own reputation (and if she had succeeded in killing tommy before he became the nightwing killer, she would probably have spent the rest of her life in jail or a mental institution, which she had to have known - so she also was willing to sacrifice her freedom, and as ziggy puts it, ruin her own life. god i am sad about this)

oh and also the motivation of ziggy to help these kids in the first place (we assume) comes from a place of self identification with them and trying to save them in the same way she wishes she could’ve saved her younger self and her sister. so like. i want to see that play out in part 3 if that’s the intended interpretation

so going back to the focus on resolving the conflicts of their narrative parallels from the past, the kids do this for ziggy, cindy, and alice as much as they do it for sarah fire and hannah miller. sam does this…. just by surviving lol, josh does this by not only believing in the curse but also unrelentingly telling others the truth about it (and miss queenofairanddarkness actually seems to believe him), and deena does this by breaking the damn curse and (presumably) becoming less cynical and self-defeatist in her world perspective. and ziggy does this for nurse lane, effectively warning the kids about the dangers of the curse and helping them fight it, where nurse lane was unable to stop the events of camp nightwing, and (as we see at the end) giving her closure about the death of her daughter. she also, i think, plays the same kind of parallel role to sarah fier as deena does in different ways, both as a social outcast who is scapegoated for other people’s wrongdoings as well as her relationship with nick reflecting the relationship between sarah and solomon. like deena and sam, she also is connected by sarah by bleeding on her bones and seeing (some of) the truth about the curse

anyway. all this is to say that these movies had the potential to do this effectively, and i’m not even saying that they should’ve set aside a huge amount of time from the plot to explore this concept, but there’s small, easy changes and additions that i think could’ve been made that wouldn’t ultimately change anything about the movies but would’ve made such an impact on the overall quality of the writing. first of all, there’s this big time jump from ziggy’s story to the 1994 “present” which is fine and expected and i wouldn’t expect them to try to include a whole lot about what her life is like in between, but we don’t know anything about her present day life, except that she has a dog and a lot of clocks and that she might be an alcoholic. we don’t even know what her job is. we have no idea what she’s been doing for 16 years. it takes maybe two extra minutes at the beginning of her introduction in part 2 to show a little bit more of her daily life, or a line or two to give us an idea of what that might look like. for character development/relationship building purposes, she needs to actually have a conversation with other people lol. she shares how much silent screen time with martin in part 3? another criminally underutilized character but don’t even get me started.

even in the 1978 plot line, her character is established almost entirely by tell-not-show; everyone is like oh she’s trouble! she’s a creep she’s a weirdo! but we see very little of her actually getting up to trouble or doing anything out of the norm (all of the characters in 1978 suffer from this writing problem, to be fair). then in the 1994 part of part 3, the way that they show her reactions to what’s happening is through flashback to her in 1978, and first of all it’s like. we just saw that we know what happened. second, it’s lazy writing! we see nothing new from her basically the entire movie. (i’m specifically thinking about the part where she learns that nick is behind the curse - cut to a series of flashbacks - moving on with the plot. then at the mall, when she sees the tree - cut to a flashback of the camp nightwing - deena comes up to her: “this is it.” “yup.” and she walks away and leaves deena to her own flashback to her sarah fier vision. and that’s the full extent of either of their emotional reactions to that moment. missed opportunity imo. and sure, maybe that’s the character - she’s not a people person lol - but you can write characters who are closed off and blunt while still being interesting and emotionally compelling and not basically stock characters. 1978 ziggy and deena are actually both examples of this so i’m mainly disappointed because i know they could’ve done better lol)

anyway. i’m not saying they needed to derail the main plot to make ziggy the main character or anything, i’m just saying that with better pacing and attention to her as a character, i think these movies could’ve had the depth and emotional resonance they were aiming for and in fact it would strengthen the themes that are central to the main plot and the protagonists without having to change anything major, making a small shift that could’ve made these movies go from mediocre and forgettable to actually pretty damn good. anyway netflix call me i have ideas for you <3

#okay i know i know it's not that deep or whatever but. it could've been.#fear street #ziggy berman

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years

Note

Hey! I wondered if I could be cheeky and ask for a combination of 2 Olympic prompts? I'd really like a combo of victory for one brother (maybe Scott?) and loss for another (maybe Gordon) on the same day (if not in the same event). To be honest, any pair of brothers would be fine. And I know this is kind of detailed and complicated, so I am more than happy for you to refuse, or only take part of this to work with. Thanks!

Only if I can be equally as cheeky and combine events 😊 And it's funny you ask, I had just been talking to @the-original-sineater about a similar concept a few days before this prompt came in, and so I hope you don't mind, but I asked her if she didn't mind joining me as a co-writer on this one. The result has been a true passion project for the two of us - we've had a hell of a lot of fun working together. I sincerely hope it shows, and that you enjoy this story. Thanks to you both for the continued inspiration.

@katblu42 I also know you are having a rough go of things at the moment, so this story comes to you also with sincere Thunderfam hugs and well wishes.

The full story is up on Ao3 here: Faster, Stronger - Together

Or you can continue to part 1 below, and I will link to her post of part 2 at the end.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Faster, Stronger - Together (Part 1)

Scott braced on the edge of the pier. Toes curled around the lip, knees bent. The death throes of the typhoon that had passed through two days earlier made the water grey and choppy. It wasn’t the best conditions to race in, but it was the Olympics. You took what the gods gave you. But that made him want to hit the water even more.

“Hey Scooter! On your left!”

Scott glared to his left. There was only one person in the group of 50 that dared to call him that and with that goad. “Watch it FISH, I know where you sleep.”

His younger brother Gordon just laughed at him.

“Frigging fish.” He turned his gaze back to the water and waited for the starter’s pistol. Olympians tended to run in families. But having two brothers in the same event? In the same games? Uncommon, if not actually rare.

There was a chuckle to his right. “Little brothers are the bane of our existence, yes?” Denis Vallee of France was Scott’s primary competition, after Gordon. They had both had younger brothers in the games, but Denis’s had the good taste to be a fencer.

The pistol sounded before he could answer, and Scott dove into the water. The shock between the warm, nearly chewable air and the cold, storm churned water was enough to make him gasp. He shook it off and swam 1500 meters of the crawl.

Unless you were a little shit named Gordon Tracy. In which case you used the god damn butterfly . Used it, led with it, and was smug as hell about it. Anyone else saying anything like that about Gordon, in Scott’s presence, found out in a big hurry not too. Scott was the only one allowed to badmouth Gordon, his privilege as a big brother.

Still, this water was utter crap. He let a swell throw him forward. You had to pace in the Triathlon. 1500 meters of swimming, 40 clicks of a bike race, and 10 more clicks of running. It was a hard race to begin with. But in these conditions? It was brutal.

The first buoy and boat were in sight, marking the first turn. He kept as tight as he could to it. Anything to shave precious tenths off his time.

He could feel the lactic acid build up in his legs as they made for the second buoy. That was the turn that would take them to the headland and the bikes. God, his arms were burning. The chop made an already hard swim tougher. He had to post a good swim time. It wouldn’t be a great time, but as long as it was good, it would be okay.

The water was changing, calmer, a little warmer. They were in the headland's lee now. He could see the curve of the beach when he turned to breathe. It was only a dozen or so more strokes before his fingers hit sand. He got a leg under him, pushed upright and started to run for his bike.

He could see Gordon ahead of him. Denis was to his right, pushing through the water.

17 :23:41 That was Scott’s time. He could build on that.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Eight laps.

The irony was not lost on him that it was Scott who taught him how to ride a bike in the first place. They’d raced back then too, converting the acres of land on their family’s wheat farm into an obstacle course, even as Gordon found his balance on two wheels and his muscles filled out to challenge the length of Scott’s legs.

Being the eldest, Scott had the advantage then.

He was still a force, and Gordon knew not to underestimate his brother’s stamina at his age, the old man (and only Gordon was allowed to say that; privilege of being a younger brother). Scott may certainly start in the chase group after the swim, but he’d make his way forward into the leaders by the end of the cycling race.

If he had any chance at winning, Gordon had to work smarter.

Triathlon was about endurance across the three events. His disadvantage was that he was strongest in the swim, and the swim being the portion of the event that took place first allowed his competition plenty of opportunity to catch up to his scores.

Gordon knew his best chance to stay in the race was to give himself the head start, and while he could dominate the event with the crawl, every time he pushed his hardest through the swim using the standard stroke, he always burned out in later events.

The butterfly had been his secret weapon.

He’d been perfecting his approach to the triathlon event for months. The butterfly worked almost every muscle group, all pecs, and core, and deltoids, and trapezius, leaving his legs less drained and better reserved for the cycling and the run.

He knew what people would be saying about his change in swim strokes, how arrogant it might make him look. But Gordon knew his body.

And he knew Scott.

He was not going to let Scott beat him; he was going to win the hell out of this race and the butterfly was going to be what helped him do it. He was one of the fastest swimmers in the world, and it still gave him a hell of a solid lead with his time coming in at 16:59:12 for the full 1.5 kilometers.

And then he had no time to think, removing his cap and replacing it with a helmet for the biking portion.

Just practicing cycling alone and on flatland he could complete the 25 miles in 55 minutes on average. The 40 kilometers of the Olympic standard was just shy of that length, and with one lap almost complete, he knew those few uphill slopes could slow him down.

He stood on the pedals and leaned into the last curve of the track.

Seven laps.

As wide a lead as he had, he knew the competition would catch up eventually, but hell if he was going to make it easy on them. His guess was they’d catch up three laps in, and then the goal from there would be to stay in the group of leaders, even if he slid a bit further back. He could regain the ground he needed at the run.

Six laps.

The air was stifling and muggy, and it didn’t help the heat he felt in his lungs as he pressed his feet faster into the circular rhythm.

Gordon felt heavy, but controlled breathing against his neck.

That was the other reason he tried to get ahead. On the swim team he competed with lanes cleanly defined, and victory was about speed and skill alone. In the triathlon, the athletes were basically on top of each other, so close, too close.

Aw shit.

Vallee was on his tail.

Five laps.

The breakaway group was a pack of nine from what Gordon could feel around him. There were two right behind him, and six leading at the front, with Scott and Vallee fighting each other to push into first, other names like Tvedt and Balazs and Ricci weaving in and out behind them.

He was maybe milliseconds behind, but those milliseconds mattered.

Just keep with the group, Gordo.

Four laps.

Around him were chants of “USA!” They weren’t for him; they were chants for Scott, who’d taken a solid lead. It made him proud. From the back of the group, he still felt the thrill of the chase and the support of his countrymen invigorate his tired muscles, as they pushed through the fire and pressed forward.

Three laps.

The two competitors behind him fell back towards the peloton. He didn’t know how far behind they were, but it left him last in the breakaway. It made him feel like he was losing.

But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t losing.

He was okay, this was okay.

Breathe.

Two laps left.

Honestly, he was falling a bit behind too.

The back of Scott’s shoulders were red and flushed. Gordon should definitely have been focusing on himself and his own frantic pedaling, but he wasn’t able to stop thinking that Scott was pushing too hard.

Hell, they all were.

And, shit, everyone was still cheering .

Final Lap.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Virgil moved Kayo’s hand from his hand to his forearm. He didn’t want it broken. Which is what would happen if she kept squeezing.

Alan’s leg was bouncing so hard the chair he was sitting was dancing in place. John only looked calm. He was leaning forward, elbows on thighs, hands locked together. The white of the knuckles betraying his emotions.

Virgil had a stress ball in his other hand. One that might not survive this race if things kept up at this pace.

As much as he appreciated the support of their community in donating the high school’s gymnasium to livestream the event, the cheerful laughter of the townsfolk around them grated against Virgil’s skull. While it was a celebration for their town, it was incredibly nerve-racking for the Tracy family and their closest friends.

Supporting one brother in an event? Easy. Having two competing in the same event? Well, that was the hell of Solomon’s choice, wasn’t it? Scott had always dreamed of winning gold in the Olympics and had dedicated his life to training for the triathlon. But then, even though Gordon had already had his go on the swim team four years prior, he’d put so much of himself into training for the triathlon since - living and breathing cycling, running, and building up his endurance.

And there could only be one gold. No matter how they sliced it, they’d be celebrating with one brother...and mourning with the other.

Gordon’s old high-school swim team had gone wild when the second youngest pulled out the butterfly, darting immediately into the front of the pack, even with the more difficult stroke. Water was his element, and apparently he wanted everyone to know it.

The bike club had started yelling the minute Scott hit his bike. This course was where Scott could shine. Like Kansas, it wasn’t flat either. Scott was the master of the short hill and his friends knew it.

All Virgil could focus on was the flush on both his brothers’ faces. There wasn’t much one could do about a typhoon. Nature set her own schedules, but running a race in the remains of one? With humidity in the 70 percent range and no sun to help dry it out even a little? It worried him. It worried him a lot.

They watched as Scott powered through the last turn, and slammed into the transition area so fast he was running when he left the bike. The racers had a precious two minutes to change and start the running section. The last section.

Scott’s elapsed time was a solid one hour thirteen. Vallee’s was one hour thirteen and fifteen seconds. Gordon was at one hour fourteen and twenty seconds. Striking distance for the top three. Which would be the best outcome possible as far as Virgil was concerned. Each brother getting a medal. It would lead to some trash talk over the family dinner table, but they could live with that. Scott and Vallee burst out of the transition area at the same time. They were running side by side. A shot that the broadcaster seemed to take great delight in showing. They were so well matched they seemed like one runner.

Gordon was a bare heartbeat after his big brother. Ten kilometers, five out, and five back. This just might be the longest forty minutes of Virgil’s life.

He clenched the stress ball tighter in his hand. And watched with bated breath.

END OF PART 1 - Continue on SinEater's blog here.

#Gavii Scribit #collab piece #the-original-sineater #Olympics!Tracys #ask box prompts #Gordon Tracy #Scott Tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderfam

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kittenp0ker · 3 years

Text

for @hawkinstigers (spoiler warning)

fear street super badly summed up:

pt1: 1994 mall, heather dies, shame she shoulda been in it longer anyways, skull mask ryan is all RAH RAH killing spree then…. sherif GOODe shoots him between the brows. gay angst, football game, afterwards on the way home mid speech from the brunette cheerleader “kill those preppy assholes” beautiful words, a red car begins pursuing the bus that has shadyside witches in, inside the car are sunnyvale devils wearing skull masks HEHE wowweeee the the… yk anygays…. lesbian fight turns car crash where sam touches the red lesbian moss, fLashY fLashY she sees the witch. everybody thinks shadyside is cursed cus there keeps being serial killers etc. sams got a jock boyfriend which deena is def not happy about, but after the car accident sam is in hospital. however at deenas house there’s a guy with a skull mask which she just assumes is sams boyfriend. he dissapears OoOo to the cheerleader and dorky guy, cus there’s blood on his shirt from when sam puked period. deena gets pissy and goes to see sam, they begin angsty lesbian fight when boyfriend turns up then gets stabbed; rip will not be missed. they find out the many serial killers are after sam/her blood, so many failed plans later a bread slicer, axe, and lobster tub kills off many of the crew. cus OoOo someone from the 1978 massacre survived Z burnham….Z….. anygays they have a lil rinG riNg, no answer; they find out she died and there’s a whole riddle or rhyme for the eViL witch sHeLl fOLlow YoU uNtIL yOurE dEad, so deena ends up drowning sam in the lobster tub^^ bUt oUu she comes back we think oh it’s all happy and dandy they get to see as house it’s all domestic then rInG rInG, z bUrNhAm? gOod tImInG iTs oVer “iTs nOt oVEr, iTs nEVeR oVeR” oOo deena gets stabbed by girlfriend with a broken drum stick :/

pt2: 1978 Z BURNHAM okay cool ziggy is getting tied up and whatever cus she’s possessed by the witch bla bla bla oOoO nicK gOoDe tO tHe rEsCUe, luv luv luv what is it gud for? AbSoLuTeLy nOtHiNg….. anyways crazy nurse lane tries to kill older sister nancy ripoff’s boyfriend, she fails, he becomes axe murderer. i can’t really remember much from this part but they find a hand to sarah fier (the witch) and try to assEmBle her to bring her peace or wtver, they get close but then there like 6 killers surrounding, kill both of the sisters BUT WAIT ziggy zig ahhh survived??? somehow……

pt3: 1666 not even discrete with that are they…. by the end of pt2 deena touches the lesbian moss and basically she’s having a vision from sarah….. it starts with the lesbians forbidden romance </3 daughter of the pastor and sarah fier, hey dancey dance in the woods then dANcEy dAnCe- *twig snaps* oh no someone saw them, turns out to be goode (not nick but his ancestor or whatever) and my hand is going numb from writing this omfg- but i’m pretty sure that mf was jealous of sarah???? idk but turns out he’s the satanist, but ofc before anything he must wreak havoc and it starts off with the first carving into rock is the pastors name OoOoO and he kills a bunch of kids or smth??? then ofc someone rattle tales about the lesbian shenanigans to which the town decides sarah has corrupted the pastors daughter and made deals with the devil etc, then sarah finds out that her pal is a satanist who then cuts off her hand… how rude, i mean his name is solomon… SOLOMON abahahah shoulda known smth was fishy- then sarah barely escapes but then she’s captured by the towns people who go to hang her, she accepts the accusations so her girlfriend can live, how sweet. then pOoOF deena is zapped back to her year and she’s like hOLy shiT iTs gOode then they have a whole plan in the mall with fluorescent paint and sams blood (to draw the serial killers) then they tip a bucket over goode so they go after him, deena ends up killing nick goode which rids the town of the devils spell, woo!!!!!!

#fear street #shadyside #sunnyvale #1666 #1978 #1994 #sarah fier #deena johnson #sam fraser #sam and deena #hannah miller

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lampoest · 3 years

Text

Unfiltered thoughts watching mission impossible rouge nation inspired by @chaotically-cas

(sorry its so long my brain is all over the place)

this is also part 14 of me watching it every day :/

CURSING WARNING !! ALSO SPOILERS !!!

why is brandt first to speak

starting out with "shit" good call benji

brandt man we get the package is on the mcfucking plane

badass luther 10/10

nervous benji 10/10

that one sound effects sounds like the discord notif

why he in a fancy suit

*jumps on a plane with almost no plan on getting inside*

why did tom cruise think this was agood idea?

but like why would benji even open the ramp?

how is he not winded from that?

classic ethan

THE INTRO 1000/10

SOLOMON LANE !!

wait you can already see lane in the record shop.

how do they tell the agents these little convos?

also damn way to give it away

what if someone just looked in that room and saw the secret message?

also how did the disc get changed? because the imf definitely didnt make that

and how did lane know where he was going?

speaking of lane---

dang that man is pretty

he always sets guns down carefully

i can only see alec baldwin as trump from his snl skits so i dont take hunley seriously ;-;

damn brandt needs to step it up. man keeps letting himself be inturrupted

bruh the imf is only luck

why did no one resrict his legs?

also why is janik such an asshole?

dang she cool !!

why does it take janik so long to get that gun?

bravo-echo 1-1

this man is bleeding but decided instead of taking care of his wound he calls brandt.

i like how you actually see ethan worried and confused trying to plan his next moves. he is rarely caught off guard so it's refreshing to see his more human side

hunley spitting accusations damn bro

also a big fuck you from ethan to hunley

dang ethan is good

brandts little hidden smile

and ethan leaving trails

bitch how you sketch that good???

STAN BENJI !!

youve won, your way out of a job

benji is good

my little brandt x benji shipper in me is happy

simon pegg is such a good actor

the first time i saw this i was like: aww noooo

all dunn with that

TO THE OPERA !!!

TUX BENJI TUX BENJI

i cant tell if that was ethan

it just looks like youre talking to yourself thats more sus than using a phone

want drama? go to the opera

ok but like if you look like that im sorry you are a bad guy. thats like a stereotypical bad guy face

benji-

you can see ethan in the background of that scene

flute gun flute gun

oh no benji is in the closet. dont worry man we love you

if i were there and i just had a good vantage point i could find lane in an instant

ooh ilsa pretty

pipe gun

also pamphlet computer

those key things are cool and plausible

spiderman spiderman does whatever, ethan hunt can?

a W O M A N

what W O M A N?

reminds me of a marshmallow gun i made out if pvc pipes.

why does she not put that thing back?

also the dude loads it and then later it is unloaded

dang that guy is pretty tall.

ethan is so tiny

dis bitch is like uhh gimmie a sec to catch my breath mate

why he only dropkick people?

only 30 mins in ?!?!

the cinematography is exquisite

yes benji goin sicko mode

*gets shot* just a flesh wound

bruh i would've been so startled at that

i love how confused he is at that

ilsa saves ethan once again

they did this on the first day of filming

skdjs

ah yes random package in car = not bomb totally

if she tried to shoot benji then yes she is a bad person

but she didnt try to, she could've easily but didn't

benji being paranoid

she could just say the dude's name

benji being scared

hunley jumping to conclusions

brandt actually cares yeey

why di they approach from different sides of the street they were in the same car.

benji was far away from the sparks why he flinch?

friendship goals

oop plot dump that only mission impossible can get away with

ok...

why this mf's voice so smooth

lane is struggling with chopsticks

also lane :))))

ive chocked on my water so many times watching this scene

lanes voice :))))))

SHE RUINED HIS SUSHI WHAT THE FUCK ILSA

this man dont know what personal space is

gotta look up these peeps mbti types

casablanca references

also benji is wearing dollar store lookin glasses while ethan is wearing some fancy glasses

luther is top notch

as much as i dont like jeremy renner he delivers these lines really well

because atlee is a bitch

oh honey please, impossible is a walk in the park

benji just wants to wear a mask

id be so nervous walking through those

yes...

personal wellbeing who?

why not bring a plastic bottle full of air?

tom cruise can hold his breath for 6 minutes and he learned to do so for that scene

luther big brain

damn cctv

why did they need to break in while benji was going in?

das sus but ok

also isnt et voila french?

she just randomly tapping the ipad

benji being stressed

if he missed the exact center

i want one of those to open my locker's lock

if he just went with the current and didnt try to force his way against the water ilsa wouldn't have had to save him

imagine if he put the wrong one in-

she is breathing heavily to over saturate her body with oxygen so she can hold her breath longer

see ilsa makes it out without well and she went with the current

BENJI'S OUTFIT YESSS :))))))

no you didn't

you gave her a false sense of security

ethan's confused face for the next like 10 mins is great

liar

why does that one man look like sean ambrose?

parkour

skdjdksjdjdkfjs

the facial acting in this

STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS

the glare yesss

vrrrm vrrm

hey its you !

drivin like a grandma

shit !

benji just screaming

im convinced that ethan is indestructible

no you didn't survive that

bonk

dskfh

ethan didnt just-

also why didnt benji just tell ethan he made a copy ???

dont shoot and drive kids

high speed motorcycle chase with no helmet or leather. tom cruise, how?

i wanna learn how to drive a motorcycle

HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD YET ?!?!

the lighting

ofc brandt would be the person why sits backwards on a chair. fkn bi vibes

benji to the rescue

fuck off atlee

i am so proud of us ...

the lines are done so well here

benji lookin like how i look when my parents argue

YES THIS SCENE

LANE LANE LANE LANE LANE

im too fucking gay for this movie-

once again no personal space

*inhales* :))))))))))))))

ive like memorized the entire script of this including the music

1 man performance of m:i5 ???

benji's outfit

also i love how youre able to see the characters in the background. props for the attention to detail

i need that haircut because his hair is lookin A+

fuck you atlee

ilsa spitting straight facts

uhh ilsa he still loves julia

NO BENJI NOOOO

EW FUCK OFF JANIK NO ONE LIKES YOU

speak of the devil-

betrayal--

WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW WEATHER BOY !??

actin sus

BENJI LANE BENJI LANE

his posture shdhskhsj (i cant be talking though)

0 personal space whatsoever

why does everyone have the same haircut in this???

simon mcburney pretending to be hunt prentending to be atlee

manipulation !?

the syndicate you say ? i know a thing or two about them 😼😼😼

damn though renner delivers these lines really well

a black tie? how informal. ..

complimenting hunt right infront of him

but he really didnt

i never realized that they were on the clock for this

huh...

the lil head nod though-

HAHA YEAH FUCK YOU ATLEE

is it bad that i hate atlee more than i hate lane?

ethan big smart wrinkle brain

janik just reading a fucking magazine

ethan has a photographic memory

oh look its benji :)))

lane :))))

ethan being tough

it must be aquward to get the low angle shots

lane is running out the clock to put pressure on ethan hmmm big brain

it isnt working though :\

damn he so cocky that hes telling the villain his plan

ill give you 1/5 of the money you wanted to get my bf back

ok but like does tom cruise just not age?

kill the woman

ugh i hate janik

the trust that is shown between those two is great

yes the score and the chase are so great

also this man really hates windows for some reason

fuck off janik

sneaky sneaky

EYY ITS LANE !!!

yeyy janik is dead

once again dodging bullets and hating glass

couldve killed him but needed him alive

the glass box

badass ethan

all the pretty men assembled

lane really let himself go aster this

dang though lane is my favorite villain ever

i like how for once the girl and the guy just are friends instead of romantically involved

eyy the callbacks to how the movie started.

welcome to the imf

#benji x brandt #mission impossible rogue nation #mission impossible #ethan hunt #benji dunn #luther stickell #ilsa faust #william brandt

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clairecrive · 4 years

Text

“Why?” Alfie Solomons x reader (part 2)

You’ve asked for it and here it is! I’m not too sure about this but oh well. Hope you like it, can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye, @mollybegger-blog, @br0ck-eddie, @innerpaperexpertcloud. @evelynshelby, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder (let me know if you wanna be added)

“Sorry to interrupt. I need a word with the lady.” Not really minding about politeness or good manners, Alfie limped towards Y/n and Peter. Luckily for him, they were dancing at the edge of the room so he hadn’t had to walk among the crowds and their interaction could be as private as they needed it to.

They stopped dancing, facing the intruder. Peter didn’t even acknowledge him, turning to y/n instead. He knew who Alfie was and what was his role in this game, still, he waited for y/n's approval. Y/n didn't think that Alfie would actually come up to her. Nonetheless, she was curious about what he wanted to say to her so she nodded, letting Peter know that it was okay for him to leave her alone with Alfie.

When Peter left, with a nod of his head Alfie gestured for y/n to follow him outside. He waited to be out on the balcony, with the doors locked behind them, before speaking.

"I see you've moved on."

"People die of heartbreaks only in books, Alfie. What did you expect me to do?"

Alfie knew that she was right and that making her feel bad about being with another guy was hypocrite of him. He had been the one that refused her, after all. Still, he had his reasons and his lack of feelings toward her wasn't one of them.

"You know that I care about you, right?" Unable to look at her nor to address the matter heavy on his heart, he settles to state the obvious to stall.

"I like to think that you did, yes. Even if only for a little while." She said throwing away her intention to keep any kind of conversation between her and him, brief and civil.

"What are you talking about?" Arching his brow, Alfie turned to her and even though y/n was not facing him she knew that if she was she'd see a hint of hurt and offence in his eyes.

"Well, the beginning of our relationship wasn't ideal, to put it lightly," she recalled the harsh welcome he gave her when his men brought her in his office thinking that she was some sort of spy, "then it has evolved. From boss and employee to friends." She decided not to mention the fact that towards the end of it for one of them there was the desire of taking it to the next step.

"For a while, I actually thought that you cared about me. Then some whispers would spread about you and the company you'd keep and I was forced to reconsider my opinion, of course. Not that I want you to feel bad about it or anything, Alfie. You can't control your heart, that's what they say." Trying to put their relationship in a few words was very easy and y/n was sure that she didn't make it justice. However, she had never been good at being concise and keep it short.

"I didn't take ya for the kind of girl to listen to voices and whispers, love."

"I'm not Alfie but you forget that we were living together at that time and no matter how much I wanted to, the scent and the lipstick stains were hard to miss." She chuckled sourly.

"No matter, it had nothing to do with you nor our relationship." He simply stated making y/n roll her eyes and grew restless.

"Is there something you wanted to tell me, Alfie? I'm not in the mood to walk down memory lane, you understand."

"So eager to go back to your date, I see. Go ahead, I'm not forcing you to stay." Turning his back to the balcony windows they had come from, Alfie set his eyes on the garden below, already regretting his choice of words and even the decision to come to this ball in the first place.

Y/n, on the other hand, was rather confused. Her eyes were stuck on Alfie's figure hoping to find some clarity. Why was he acting so strange? Like it was him who was hurt between the two, him who had his heart broken, him who had to go on knowing that the love of his life didn't return his feelings.

"What's going on, Alfie?"

"Why are you still here, y/n? Thought you couldn't stay away from the bloke any longer." The acid in his tone was hard to miss, and again y/n was left to wonder why he was treating her like it was her fault they were apart.

"I'm sorry, wasn't you that said that you couldn't be with me, offering none explanation whatsoever? If I'm not wrong, it's you that pushed me away because you felt nothing for me Alfie, so why the hell are you treating me like it's my fault?" Addressing the elephant in the room, she couldn't help but get worked up while she spoke.

"Only because I told you that we couldn't be together doesn't mean that I don't want to." He mumbled.

“Then why are you acting like I don't love you back? It was you that never made a move, Alfie, so I thought that you were restrained by your religion. Then I discovered that indeed you never let it stop you before, don’t even try to deny it, Alfred. So I’ve come to the conclusion that you weren’t interested in me like that and I mean, there’s nothing I could do about it, right? Then you go ahead and shower me with little kind gestures that yes, I’ve appreciated endlessly but that also confused me to no end. Eventually, I confronted you about it and we know how that went. And now here you are, standing in front of me, telling me that you love me…”

“I was trying to be proper.”

“Oh please Alfie, you’re anything but.”

“I know that very well love, don’t I? Just were doing it for you.”

“I’ve told you, a thousand times, that I don’t give a fuck about these social conventions of yours. They mean nothing to me and you knew that. I reckon you almost fainted when you saw me wearing pants, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, it was then that I understood that you’ll be the death of me.”

“You don’t have to put up with me anymore Alfie. You’re not bound to me.” Stating the reality of facts never hurt y/n more.

“Are you bullshitting me? I’ve just told you that I love you, right, ain’t it? You’re mine.”

“I know I am. The thing is that you’re not mine.”

Alfie takes a step in her directions, not able to bear anymore the distance between them and the situation in general. Time for words is over, now it’s time to act. Smiling with mirth at her words, knowing very well that she was wrong, he opts to go about it with a more practical approach. Gently putting his hands on the base of her neck, slowly trailing up towards her cheeks. The pud of his thumb gently caresses her lower lip, parting them slightly. Y/n’s mind had completely gone blank and retired from the mission leaving her standing there to completely surrender to her emotions. Her breathing accelerated, her heart tumbed wildly in her chest, her skin set completely on fire by Alfie’s touch. Countless were the nights when she dreamt about this very moment and such were all those times when Alfie got one step close to kissing her but never did, frustrating her to no end.

Softly bumping their noses together, Alfie uses the hold on her face to draw her impossibly close to him. When y/n closed her eyes in anticipation of his kiss, he took a moment to really take her in. Oh, how he’d missed her.

“I am yours.” He confessed and before she could even register his words, his mouth had taken on the task of showing just how much he meant was he said. Kissing her felt like finally getting that thing you didn’t know you needed, like a sudden revelation that all of this time he had been fooling himself when he would affirm that he was fine. He wasn’t. It really makes you think how a person can change your perspective on life so drastically. But Alfie wasn’t sure it was a bad thing. The total opposite actually. And y/n could only agree with him. Her life was turned upside down even before Alfie had come into her life. However, she wasn’t sure if she’d survived without him. Quite literally but of course, metaphorically too. He was like that force that comes in and with just his presence, he restored the balance in her and her life. Despite how messy Alfie really was. She would have never thought that a man could mean so much to her, to feel like she had been drawing all this time that she’d been without him, finally coming to the surface for some air when his lips had touched hers.

Contrary to popular belief, Alfie could be as gentle and delicate as he needed to. Sometimes, he was even the softest of the two. That had always amused y/n, knowing how rough and violent but at the same time kind and cautious he could be. She found that this aspect of his character rightly found his place in the kaleidoscope that was Alfie’s personality. He was such a complex man, so bright and intelligent, so quick-witted and well-spoken that really, she couldn’t avoid falling for him. She often wondered how come some other woman hadn’t before her. Well, no mind, she was grateful for it really. The man kissing her, ravishing her with such passion almost as if he’d want to impress himself on her, was hers. And she wouldn’t want it any other way.

When the need for air became unbearable for both of them, Alfie pulled away, still keeping a kiss away from her.

“So, was that convincing enough?” He asked referring to her unwillingness to trust him.

“What changed?” Still heavy breathing, she ignored the unfamous smirk on his face and his question.

“I realized I couldn’t fucking stand the thought of another man touching you.” Men. So predictable. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. Of course, he’d come back to mark his territory as soon as he felt it was threatened. Still, that wasn’t a good enough answer. It didn’t explain all his reservations about being with her.

“That’s cheesy as hell Alfie, but I’ll take it. For now.” She’ll ask him another time. Now, it wasn’t the time for words, after all.

“So, wanna go inside and tell that bloke that he can kindly fuck off?” He said alluding to Peter. Y/n couldn’t help but laugh, she knew that her tactic would work.

“It surprises me that you haven’t noticed yet, but if you turn around you’ll see that he already has.” She simply explained. Peter too had a lady he wanted to arouse an action from and as it had for her, their plan worked just fine. He was dancing with her just now, she could see them from the balcony they were standing.

“Perfect, then let’s get the fuck out of here.” He proposed.

“But first,” he stopped and before taking a step toward the exit he pulled her into another kiss as if to remind him that this was true. It had happened. She was his just as he was hers.

#Alfie Solomons #alfie #solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons imagines #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons one shot #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders #tom hardy

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Blue Eyes Part 16

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 16: When Ella and Alfie go to Birmingham, they’re met with horrible news.

“No, Alfie, don’t even fucking speak to me right now!”

Ella was seething with rage. Her darling brother was the reason everything had suddenly come crashing down. The perfect little bubble she’d set up with Alfie. Her slice of paradise in Camden and in Margate.

But Thomas Shelby would never stop. There was no reason to. Not when there was money to be made and power to be held.

“You ain’t gonna want what I pack for you, so you might s’well do it yourself. I don’t know what you want to bring.” Once he was finished chewing Tommy out over the phone, Alfie returned to the bedroom and pulled out Ella’s suitcase.

“I’m not fucking packing anything because I’m not going anywhere!” Ella retorted and tore up the Christmas card Luca had sent her. “I’m going to bed, that’s where I’m going! It’s late and I’m tired.”

But Alfie had already opened her suitcase onto the bed, leaving her no room to lie down comfortably. “D’you just want skirts, dresses? What do you want to bring?” He started opening dresser drawers.

“Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her chest and sat on the bed, turning her back to him.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Alfie threw his hands up. “Of all the possible times, now? Now is when you’re acting like a child?”

It was all too reminiscent of when her older siblings diminished her to her younger age. Ella spun around and crossed the room to get into his face. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that.”

He didn’t back down. Not when there was so much at stake at that moment. “Ella, I don’t like your brothers. I don’t fucking like anything about them. I also don’t fucking like Birmingham. And I would never voluntarily go there unless I bloody well had to. But right now there’s a fucking wop threatening your life. And if I have to be in Birmingham around your fucking brothers to keep you safe, then I’ll fucking do that!” He snapped. “So do not fight me and get your fucking things together.” Trying to cut off any potential argument, he began to pack a few of his own clothes.

Ella clenched her hand into a fist and felt like punching something. “You said I never had to go back there! That I never had to speak to them again unless I wanted to.”

“It’s called extenuating circumstances love.” He muttered through a tight jaw.

“You can protect me here.”

“I’m not risking it.”

“I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. I want them to stay the way they are now!” She pled. Maybe if she begged a little it would sway him.

“El, it shouldn’t matter where we are. Where we are doesn’t define us. If we’re in Birmingham then we’re in fucking Birmingham. But we’re together. Things between us won’t change.”

Her stature slumped. “I don’t want to leave home.” She whispered. “This is my home now Alfie, I don’t think you understand that.”

Alfie sighed and walked back over to her. He wouldn’t tell her, but she was making things very difficult. Of course, he didn’t want to leave Camden Town either. But he had to ignore her puppy dog eyes and make sure he delivered her to safety. He gently touched her arms. “Tommy’s going to have an army there by the time we arrive. Small Heath’ll practically be a fortress. London’s too big to control who comes in and out. If you’re there, I can be sure you’re safe.”

Ella chewed on her lip. She wanted desperately to ignore the danger if it meant uprooting the foundations she had only just begun to set. But it was becoming clear that Alfie wouldn’t let the issue go. “Promise me that things won’t change.” She whispered.

“I promise, love. You’re my priority. C’mon, I want to leave before the hour’s up.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ella slept on her way to Small Heath. She hoped that when she woke up, she’d find herself in bed with Alfie. They’d be in Camden, Cyril and Anthea sleeping on the foot of the bed. The Christmas morning beginning to dawn. Everything would be perfect.

But she was disappointed to wake up still in the passenger seat of Alfie’s car. Cyril and Anthea curled up in the backseat, both half asleep.

The sun had yet to rise but the sky was starting to lighten. As Alfie let out the dogs and helped Ella out of the car, Ada came out of Six Watery Lane.

“El…” Her older sister sighed in relief and rushed over to embrace her tightly.

She was immediately brought to tears when Ada hugged her. “I don’t understand what’s going on.” Ella cried. All the emotions that had been stewing since Alfie made the phone call spilled over.

“It’s alright.” Ada petted her hair comfortingly. “Tommy says we’ll be safe here. He’s got a plan.”

The sister’s parted and Ada saw Alfie lagging behind with Cyril and Anthea sat by his feet. He didn’t appear uneasy, perhaps disgruntled. Birmingham wasn’t his domain so it was likely that he would feel undermined by the Shelbys. Something he absolutely hated.

“Alfie.” Ada greeted the man tentatively.

“You alright, Ada?” He replied as friendly as he could possibly come off.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” There was a delay when all three of them realized the automatic nature of her response. Of course, she wasn’t fine. There was no possible way they could be. Not when there was a man out there who was risking everything to possibly kill every last one of them. But Ada didn’t correct herself. Instead, she cleared her throat and straightened her back.

“They’re inside. But…Tommy asked that Alfie go to Polly’s for a little bit.”

Ella’s face clouded over. Only her brother would try to control the conversation before they even came face to face again. “Well, Tommy can go fuck himself.”

Ada sighed. “I’m just trying to tell you what he said. There’s no need to take it out on me.”

“S’alright, El.” Alfie was a bit grateful for the option. He thought it might be a good idea for the siblings to reunite on their own. If he were involved, things would get…messier. “I’ll get the dogs settled and come back.” He kissed her cheek.

Ada didn’t say anything but was a little taken aback. Tommy said the two had been living together for quite some time. But she could never see her baby sister with a man like Alfie Solomons. “Here, I’ll let you in,” Ada said and began leading Alfie down to Polly’s apartment.

Ella took a deep breath before walking inside.

Arthur stood up when he heard the door open. “Ada? She here yet?” He called.

Ella walked into the kitchen. There was a bit of reluctance behind her step. She wasn’t there by her own volition. Like Alfie said, they were extenuating circumstances.

“El.” Her eldest brother looked positively heartbroken. With his long hair and tired eyes, he appeared aged.

She swallowed her tears and went to hug him tightly. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry ‘bout, sister.” He soothed softly. “Just happy you’re here now. Safe, aye?”

“Is Tom here?” She asked.

“Upstairs.” Arthur let her draw away from his arms and offered her a seat at the table. “On the telephone.”

Six Watery Lane was suspiciously quiet. Especially when the family was in such turmoil. “Where is everyone?” She listened for voices but couldn’t even hear Tommy upstairs.

“Polly’ll be around soon.” Arthur answered and went to pour her a cup of tea. “Finn’s at the Yard. There’s a war starting, El, and we’ve gotta plan for one.”

She frowned at his choice of words, but decided to ignore it. “What about Michael and John?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oi, get offa there.” Alfie shooed Cyril off of Polly’s couch. “You can do that at home but not here. They’re already gonna give me a fucking hard time without you shedding all over their couches.”

Cyril slunk off to lie down in the corner of the parlor, Anthea eagerly following.

Ada had returned to the other flat, leaving Alfie alone at Polly’s. He felt extremely out of his comfort zone but he kept reminding himself that he was there for Ella’s sake. It didn’t matter what he thought as long as she was safe.

But it didn’t make him feel at home there. He awkwardly strolled around the parlor, glancing at the various things Polly had to decorate the small space. Typical things to make the room a bit more feminine. Then he found a few photographs on the mantle. He got closer to make out the figures.

There were a few people he didn’t recognize. Ella’s mother and father. Polly’s husband and a few other relatives on the Gray side. But then he came across an older picture that was dated 1908. And there was no mistaking who the photograph was. The six Shelby siblings.

Arthur was twenty-one, standing like the man of the family but with a mischievous smile on his face. His arm was slung around Tommy who was eighteen. The light in his eyes still burning. No dreams of shovels haunting him. In front of him was Ada, just twelve, and lugging a bundle of blankets that held the newest Shelby. Little Finn who was only a few months old when the photograph was taken. John was thirteen and looked chuffed that someone was taking his picture. And finally, beside him, who had just turned seven. She was proudly showing off the gap in her smile from the tooth she had lost.

She was so bright-eyed and rambunctious at the time. They all were. A couple of poor kids who only had one another to survive. A time when their name meant nothing. Only conjured up a few unpleasant memories of their father. Who would’ve ever thought things would turn out the way they had?

There was a price to be paid when your last name opened doors. There would always be someone there, ready to take that privilege from you.

And that’s when Alfie heard banging on the door. Something in the atmosphere shifted and the game would never be the same again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfie stormed through the hospital. Ada had arrived at Polly’s flat in tears. Her speech was so hurried and jumbled that he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. But he heard John’s name. And he heard her say something about the hospital. So he followed her there.

There was chaos already forming in the waiting area. Blinders were everywhere, trying to figure out what happened. The Shelby family was in hysterics. Arthur was shouting at cowering nurses who didn’t have a clue what to do. Polly was holding onto Esme who was wailing and could hardly stand upright.

Amidst the fray, he saw those beautiful blue eyes filled with tears. Ella ran over to him. How was it that in the brief moments they’d been apart, her world had been torn down.

“My brother’s dead. My brother’s dead.” She sobbed. They were the only words she could get out. A scratched record playing over and over again, the horrible message stuck in her mind. “He’s dead, he’s dead, Alfie.”

Alfie embraced her tightly as a cold chilled him to the bone. He spotted Tommy through the chaos. The leader of the Peaky Blinders looked seconds away from falling over. His face was like stone but his eyes were full of anguish and anger.

It made Alfie sick to his stomach. The Italians were playing with fire. They had thoroughly pissed off the wrong people.

“C’mon, love.” He ushered Ella over to a quieter hallway. She stumbled along beside him, her grief taking up every ounce of her being.

“He’s dead. He’s dead, Alfie.”

He sat on the stairs and took her into his arms. “Easy, love, I’ve gotcha now.”

Ella curled up instinctually into his lap, pressing her face to his shoulder and bursting out into loud tears. “He’s dead…he’s dead.”

She was inconsolable for nearly an hour. Alfie stayed sitting on the stairs with her, never once letting go of her. All he could do was whisper softly to her and try to comfort her.

Tommy and Arthur eventually left the waiting area to go downstairs to the morgue. They passed by the hallway where Alfie and Ella were sat. Tommy paused when he saw the scene at the end of the hall.

“I know it hurts, love, I’m so sorry.” Alfie murmured to her. He noticed movement and glanced up to see Tommy staring at him.

What could either of them say? For years, Tommy and his brothers were Ella’s source of comfort. But they’d been through too much to support each other anymore. They’d caused each other such grief and from behind their blinding armor, they discovered they were only fighting each other with no real results. Blame wasn’t the issue anymore, neither was healing. It was vengeance.

They had a common enemy. Sometimes that’s all that mattered in war. Sometimes it was more than enough for rivals to set down their weapons and make a pact. A pact to see them through this until their enemy was dead.

But emotions were hard to keep in check after the loss of a loved one. And Ella would set fire to the powder keg.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`

So much pain built up in Ella. It stewed and boiled on the trip from the hospital to Watery Lane. So much uncertainty was in the air. Her cousin was clinging to life and she had no answers about her brother’s death other than it was the Italians.

She stepped out of the car and saw Tommy going for the door. Alfie lagged behind, unsure what she planned to do or say. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Her voice was strong and carried well down the lane.

Tommy turned to face her. “What would you like me to say?” He looked exhausted. They all were.

“What would I like you to say…” She laughed sarcastically and tossed up her hands up in disbelief. “That’s your problem, innit?”

“El,” Alfie touched her arm.

“Go inside.” She didn’t look at him. Her entire body tensed up and rejected his touch.

“Ella.”

“Alfie, I’m going to talk to my brother alone, go inside.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

Alfie cleared his throat and nodded. No use in arguing with her when she was all riled up. “Right, I’ll be inside then.” He passed Tommy and disappeared into the house.

“You don’t even know how much I fucking hate you right now.” Ella’s voice shook with rage once the door closed.

Tommy stood like a soldier. His shoulders squared, back straight, fingers outstretched as if reaching for a trigger, and tilted forward slightly. “Go on, tell me. Tell me how much you hate me.”

Her eye twitched. “I should’ve stayed away. We all should’ve. Should’ve never let you bring it to this point. We’re all to blame for enabling you. But you’re the one who sent John to his fucking grave.”

“Fucking what?” He hissed and strode towards her. “You think I wanted this to happen, aye? Wanted him dead?” His voice rose. The usual steady tone he held was faltering. It was what Ella wanted. She wanted him to shout. Wanted to see that he was just as angry as she was. Sometimes it was easy to believe her brother was completely void of any emotions. When his stony façade broke, it reminded her of the young boy who was passionate about what he believed in.

“You kept pushing and pushing until there were consequences. Were you really stupid enough to think that this wouldn’t happen? Stupid enough to believe you were fucking untouchable?

“Not my fucking fault that you all scattered. How’m I supposed to keep tabs on you when none of you would ever respond?”

“Not your fault?!”

He didn’t mind talking over her anymore. If that was the only way he could talk then he would shout over her for days. “They’re going to knock us off one by one. They take it as a game when you take them on a little chase. I know what’s best to keep you all safe, you need to listen to me. If I wanted you all dead, I would let them kill you!”

Ella shoved him away from her. “You’re the reason they’re even after us, to begin with!”

“Keep living in the past, Ella. While I’m trying to keep us all alive.” He didn’t react to her push, simply stepping towards her again. “This family only has a chance if we stay together! You’re a Shelby like it or not-”

“I’m not! Not anymore!”

Tommy rolled his eyes and dragged a hand over his face. “This game again…”

“Which reminds me,” She reached into her purse and blindly ripped out the torn up card that had been delivered to her on Christmas Eve. “Next time you see him, tell Luca Changretta he’s addressed his death threat to the wrong person.”

“What?”

Ella tossed the card and enveloped to the ground. The paper sticking to the wet sidewalk. The envelope’s address facing up towards Tommy.

Miss Ella Shelby

“Next time he wishes to address anything to me, or you for that matter, you can send it to Mrs. Ella Solomons.”

Mrs. Ella Solomons.

The name hit Tommy like a well-aimed brick to the head. His stomach lurched and he was afraid the world had completely tipped upside down if it hadn’t already before. “Fucking what…” He hissed.

“I won’t be accepting any mail that’s not properly addressed.”

“You married him?” Tommy’s blue eyes went wild with anger. “You fucking married him without telling any of us? When?”

“We had to do it in secret because no one would understand.” She’d been waiting for a long while to drop the news. Waiting to show Tommy that yes, he may have tried to dictate her life, but no longer. She married Alfie on their terms and not his. “You’re just upset that I didn’t do it when you told me to. That I didn’t jump when you said so.”

“That man allowed me son to be fucking kidnapped!” Tommy shouted and closed the gap between them. “He could’ve had us all killed!”

“You let half the family have a noose tied ‘round their neck!” She screamed back at him, her voice starting to go hoarse. “John is dead! Do you get that, you fucking animal? Cold, unfeeling, selfish, arrogant, poor excuse of a man!”

Her brother was shaking with anger. A lifetime ago, he would’ve scolded her and sent her off to her room. Made her pout on her bed for the rest of the day. But there wasn’t a suitable punishment for what he considered betraying the family by marrying Alfie. So he grabbed her by the arm and made her look at him. “I don’t fucking care what you’ve done. That man is not a part of this family ‘n he never fucking will be.”

“Then neither am I.” She fought against his hold but he dug his fingers into her skin, bruising her pale complexion. She very well could’ve hurt him. He himself had taught her how to defend herself.

“You will stay here in Small Heath and he’s going back to London. I’ll not have him in my city.”

“Your city.” She scoffed with a dark look in her eyes. “Your fucking city? Your city is burning, Thomas! It’s falling and you’re standing in the middle of it pretending like you’re some fucking god-sent king meant to save us all!” She used her free arm to try and get a good punch in. It had been a long time coming, as far as she was concerned.

But the close proximity allowed Tommy to restrain her, overpowering her before she could clip his jaw.

It only took a glance out the window for Alfie to lose his cool. The sight of Tommy wrestling Ella back sent him over the edge. He burst out of the door. “Oi!” He shouted and grabbed Tommy by the collar. “You fucking cunt, let go of her!”

Tommy didn’t mind turning his anger onto Alfie. “Stay out of this,” He pushed Ella away from him and whipped around to confront him. “You’ve no horse in this race. This is my family and I’ll be damned if I let you hang around just so you can betray me again!”

“I trust him more than I’ll ever trust you.” Ella spat.

“You’ve gone angry, Tommy, aye? Turning on me when you’ve got plenty of other people to be angry at. I’m a fucking easier target than Luca Changretta, ain’t I?” Alfie squared his shoulders, fully expecting the Blinder to tackle him to the ground.

“He’s trying to help you, Tommy, you need as many people as you can!”

Tommy’s entire body was tense as he shook his head. “Just…”

“Either he stays with me here or I go back to London.”

“Enough!” Tommy shouted over them both.

Ella had never heard him speak so loudly before. It silenced both her and Alfie. The two stared at Tommy, Watery Lane turning quiet after his voice had finished echoing across the tightly packed buildings.

“Go inside.” Tommy finally spoke again.

Ella instinctually gravitated towards Alfie. “I’m not…”

“Both of you get in the fucking house!”

Although Alfie didn’t like being yelled at and or told what to do, he wrapped an arm around Ella’s waist and led her into the flat. Tommy followed and slammed the door behind him.

“In the kitchen.” He snapped.

Ella grimaced but walked into the kitchen where the rest of the family and a few of the Blinders were congregated. All of them a little unnerved by the yelling.

“What on Earth is going on?” Arthur stood up. His eyes narrowed when Alfie walked in. “The fuck is he doing here?”

“Arthur, stop,” Linda said gently and tugged on his arm to get him to sit again. “Now’s not the time.”

Tommy didn’t answer, he jabbed a finger towards the table. “Sit.” He commanded them both.

Alfie grumbled incoherently under his breath and pulled up a chair for Ella. He stood behind her, hands protectively resting on the back of the chair.

Arthur stiffly sat down at the request of his wife. His eyes never left Alfie, critically suspicious of the man’s proximity to Ella. After his exoneration, he felt it was crucial to splinter from the family. If only for his sanity. But he frequently reached out to Ella. She responded only vaguely, assuring him she was perfectly safe and very happy. Never once did she mention she was shacking up with one of the men Arthur hated.

Tommy paced a few steps, his mind racing at migraine-inducing speeds. His brother was dead. His sister was married to Alfie Solomons. He was going to make deals with the Golds. He paused and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Fine. He could handle this.

Ella stared at her brother, anger still coursing red hot in her veins. Alfie was more than uneasy. He was greatly outnumbered even if Ella was a strong fighter in his corner of the ring. But he noticed everyone was curiously glancing his way. Finn, then Ada, then Lizzie, then Johnny Dogs, then Charlie. Polly didn’t seem bothered, smoking with her back slightly turned to him. Arthur continued sending him deadly glares.

As if she could sense his discomfort, Ella reached up to touch his hand resting near her shoulder. Arthur noticed. He also noticed the two rings on her left hand. Coincidentally on her ring finger.

It clicked in his head and the eldest Shelby nearly seized in horror. “No fucking way.” He pointed at his sister. “Don’t even fucking say it.”

Ella clenched her jaw and refused to look at him. “I don’t have to say anything.” She retorted firmly.

“Thomas!” Arthur looked to him for backup.

Tommy dropped the hand from his eyes and took a deep breath. “John is dead.” He turned to face his family and friends. “Esme’s gone on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded. I can stand here and make excuses. We can go into the history of what led up to this. But we’ll be here all night. John and Michael were shot because we killed a man. That is why we’re here now. If you’d like, we’ll all sit here and focus on what the past brought. Can all have a little chat ‘bout who did what. Or, we can finish this for good.”

Polly made a little noise of disbelief but didn’t speak up. There was no need for words.

“Until this business is settled, we need to stick together. Small Heath, Bordesley, Hay Mills, down to Greet.” Tommy waved his cigarette towards Ella. “You can have your room upstairs or take one of the flats we own now. Number ten, two doors down.”

Ella crossed her arms over her chest. “Alfie stays with me.”

“He’s not fucking staying anywhere near this place.” Arthur hissed. “We’re talking ‘bout the people we can trust.”

“Well, I don’t trust anyone in this room except my husband.” She responded. It knocked the wind out of a few people in the room. Not only her proclaimed distrust but also the affirmation that she had married Alfie without their knowledge.

“Tommy!” Arthur exclaimed, trying to prompt a reaction, preferably a violent one.

“That’s fine. He stays with you.” Tommy ignored his brother and Ella’s blatant disrespect. “But none of his men can enter this territory without my explicit permission.”

“What?!” Arthur stood up again.

Tempers flared again and Tommy slammed his hand down on the kitchen table, causing a few of them to flinch. “If you want her to go back to London and get shot then be my guest. She will not stay without him. This is not the issue right now!” He shouted in Shelta.

Ella pretended not to listen and tugged Alfie’s arm to rest a hand on her shoulder. She pressed her cheek into his arm.

“He will cross you again. Have you not learned the last time?” Arthur demanded in their native tongue.

“If he does, he knows the consequences. As far as I am concerned right now, he is another person who will protect her.”

It surprised Ella and she perked up. Of course, it was true, Alfie was as much of a protector as the rest of them. If anyone were to hurt her, he’d be first in line to cause bodily harm to the perpetrator.

Polly shifted in her seat to face her niece. There was no mistaking the adoration and fierce bond that had developed during the division of the family. She could sense Ella’s unwillingness to part and Alfie’s determination to defend her. The older woman reached out for her niece’s hand.

Ella smiled and took it gratefully.

“She has reason to distrust all of us,” Polly spoke. “We all have reason to distrust. But for all of our sake, we need to be together. Even if it’s temporary.” Her eyes landed on Tommy.

He nodded in agreement. “Arthur, sit down. We’re done discussing this. Now is the time to discuss plans of action.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before John’s funeral, Ella went out to the fields with Alfie. Several people were already there setting up the pyre but most of the family had yet to arrive. She needed to breathe and that wasn’t easy back in the midst of Small Heath.

Alfie sat at a small table that was set up with some food and drinks as she wandered about the long grass. She was so exhausted, it was difficult to cry. But that didn’t stop the tears from falling. Memories of her brother kept finding their way to the forefront of her mind.

The time John tricked her into thinking unicorns were real.

When he’d tote her around on his shoulders, mimicking horse sounds to make her laugh.

The beautiful summer afternoon that she would never forget. When she went riding with just him and they ended up in a small glade littered with dandelions. John sprawled out in the grass, toothpick hanging out of his mouth, and arms behind his back. He patiently let her place dandelion crowns on his head. Proclaiming himself king of the forest.

One morning when he socked a boy so hard in the gut because he’d made fun of Ella’s two missing teeth.

Every time he’d cover for her if she managed to get in trouble. Bravely taking scoldings for her or conjuring excuses to get her off scot-free.

Ella’s stomach turned and she doubled over in pain. She let out a loud sob and curled into herself, tucking over her knees.

The swish of grass alerted her to someone walking over. Alfie knelt down and wrapped his arms around her. “S’alright to cry, love.” He murmured sympathetically.

She leaned into his hold, clutching all the memories to her chest even though they kept stabbing her heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`

He held her when Arthur lit the pyre. The rest of the family was too grief-stricken to care or comment. And Tommy was simply waiting.

Waiting for the gunshots.

When they echoed across the field, everyone ducked. Alfie shielded Ella and withdrew his gun. Fuck if he knew if this was some sort of gypsy tradition. He wasn’t going to risk it.

“Do not return fire!” Tommy shouted and held his arms out. “The men firing are on our side.”

While the panicked funeral attendees recovered, Ella sprung up. She instantly went for Tommy’s throat, trying to tackle him. “You fucking monster!” Her brother struggled against her, grabbed her wrists so she couldn’t strangle him. “You used John’s funeral? Used us fucking bait?!” She shouted. Her eyes wild with rage.

Alfie tucked away his gun and grabbed his wife around the waist to pry her off Tommy. “Easy, easy! No need for that. Enough!” He scolded.

“You’re taking his side?” She demanded in a huff.

“What?” His eyes widened in disbelief. “Of course not, but I ain’t gonna let you fucking beat him up while your brother’s not even buried…er…burned.”

Ella narrowed her eyes at him but decided not to waste her anger on him. “Who’s shooting?” She pointed across the field where the sound of the gunshots had originated. Figures began to cross over the tall grass towards the vardos.

“I took the trouble of inviting Aberama Gold.” He answered.

“More gypsies. That’s just what we fucking need right now.” She spat.

“Are you not a gypsy anymore, El?” Tommy accused. “Not the gypsy girl you used to be proud of being, aye? What’re you now?”

“I’m me own fucking person now, that’s who I am.” She shimmied out of Alfie’s grip and stalked away from the funeral. She could hear her brother commanding the family.

“This is how it’s gonna be!” He shouted, partially directing the demand right towards Ella.

She ignored him and kept walking. Eventually, she intersected with the men who were walking towards the pyre. Two painted gypsy cob horses with long-kept manes plodded towards her. Two plainer horses followed with two dead men tossed over their backs.

“Miss Shelby.” The hoarse voice was instantly recognizable. The man who was proclaimed as too wild even by Traveler standards. With his long graying hair and gold hoop earring, he was difficult to miss.

“Mr. Gold.” She nodded curtly. “Bonnie.” She greeted his son on the other cob.

“My condolences about your brother.”

She simply shook her head and kept walking. “You’ll want to save your breath. We’ll all be dead soon anyway.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye @octaviareina @mylovelykelsifer

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giingers · 5 years

Text

The Worst of Nightmares (part two)

Part One

Request: the reader gets shot and bleeds in Tommy’s arms

Tag list: @peachy-aisha @crazyonesarethebest @peachyblinderss @spaghettirogers @mclfoybaby

Been listening to All My Tears which is the song that played in the finale of S2, and I’m in my feelings for sure. God I just want to cry because of Tommy Shelby.

Small Heath was blanketed in a cover of obsidian black that seemed to outwardly embody Tommy Shelby’s most dark thoughts. The moon was non existent in the sky and any stars that had hung proudly within the cover of inky blackness were now being smothered by the angry smog that normally resided over Birmingham.

Watery Lane was quiet, yet Tommy’s heavy footsteps that were weighted by the events of the evening now polluted the utter silence with a deafening thrum. His hands shook as they opened the door and as the heavy wood was flung back he could hear the arguing voices that rose from within. He had almost ran here after he had heard how Arthur had been thrown in prison, how Michael had been dragged from Aunt Pol’s house and how his business was under threat.

The betting shop was cold with tension as he entered and he found that every pair of eyes in the room landed on him. Aunt Pol was over to him in a flurry of brown curls, and dark wide eyes that searched his face for an answer to a question she hadn’t even voiced yet. Finn was poker straight and pale, and Tommy could sense that the young boy was beginning to fret over his brother and cousin who were now undoubtedly under Major Campbell’s mercy.

There was no time to fret however, only time to think and lay the foundations for plans. Tommy’s mind was already beginning to swirl with solutions to avoid outright combustion for the business, and it was business that needed to be sorted first. Family matters were larger and more difficult to unravel, therefore they needed to be dealt with in a different manner.

It was what he told Polly as she demanded he figure out what to do with Michael. Business first, he told her almost harshly and he could see within the dullness of her dark eyes that a spark of venom was squirming its way through her.

John who was sitting down, his shoulders slumped forlornly, began telling Tommy how the whiskey was gone, how the clubs were handed back to the Italians and how their warehouses and vans were no longer under their control. Tommy could feel his brain begin to fry itself beneath his skull, and for once in his life he did not see an achievable goal to the situation.

He threw himself in the chair opposite his brother and put his head in his hands. Fuck, he wanted to scream loudly, fuck Sabini! He had to clench his hands over and over again out of a trembling anger that was tearing through his veins like pure opium, and just like the drug it was causing him to get light headed. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again. His family were still looking at him as if he had all the answers, but he just felt lost and dumbfounded. He’d be here all night thinking and discussing the company’s next move, he wagered, and he sighed as he gazed at the pocket watch that hung from his breast.

“Finn, be a good lad and walk to the Garrison, eh? I told y/n I’d walk her home tonight. Explain what’s happened and bring her here” he eyed his little brother who was still standing idly by. The young lad just nodded weakly and began to walk out the door.

“And be quick about it. No delaying” Tommy warned as he took a cigarette out of a packet “I don’t want any coppers seeing you and coming up with an excuse to arrest any more Shelby’s”

The closing of the door was the only response Finn gave, and Tommy sighed mightily when he thought of how different his youngest sibling responded to situations. He was softer than the rest of them, and didn’t display the same fondness for the lifestyle his big brothers partook in. This life is bad, Polly had said, and perhaps she was right.

Tommy and John began a very strained conversation about how they were going to muddle out of this one, and Aunt Pol decided she had heard enough about business and whiskey deciding instead to storm into the kitchen. The tension in the family was palpable and it was worming its way through Tommy’s soul, causing him to stress more with each passing tick of the clock.

Not that much time had passed (perhaps five minutes but it felt like five hours)when the front door opened with an almighty slam. Tommy and John both stood abruptly, drawing guns and the second eldest Shelby felt his heart pick up its pace with the thought that perhaps the coppers or Sabini had come to take out the rest of the remaining clan.

But it wasn’t Sabini, or police for that matter. It was a very pale looking Finn, and Tommy felt his heart that had been pumping wildly minutes before, plummet in his chest. He dropped his gun to his side and his eyes that were wide and searching, now studied his shaking brother.

His hands were covered in blood.

“For fuck sake Finn, you scared us” Aunt Pol said as she too had stood to attention at the small kitchen table. She didn’t seem to notice the young boys state for a few seconds but when she slowly made her way towards him a hand went over her mouth.

“What’s on your hands?” her voice shook as she inspected her nephew and Finn swallowed harshly, taking a moment before he spoke.

“It’s y/n’s blood. She was on the ground when I got there, and I ran back here as fast as I could to get help” he was breathless as Tommy bounded towards him, his eyes mad and his hands trembling as he grabbed his brothers collar.

“What happened?” Tommy almost screamed at him, but Finn’s eyes were just as scared as how Tommy felt.

“I think she was shot”

He felt his brother slip away from his hold and before his mind could even register what his body was doing, he could feel his legs take off. The cold night air whirled around him as he ran through the night- the heavy footsteps of his family following close behind. His mind was whirling with all sorts of thoughts, but he knew that no matter what he found around the corner, it would be the worst of nightmares.

__________

His dream that had plagued him relentlessly for nights upon nights seemed to materialise somewhat as he came across the scene. The Garrison wasn’t on fire like it had been in the depths of his night time imaginings, Arthur wasn’t there to shout and scream at God and the heavens and his mothers spirit definitely was not there to stalk the shadows with her ethereal presence.

You were lying in a pool of your own blood however, and Tommy dropped to his knees to bring you close to him. At least in some sick way, his prophecy had gotten that part right. He wondered as he held your frail body, if perhaps his dream had been a warning and not just some nightmare. Perhaps he’d dreamt of his mother being there because she was the one that was giving him some inclination of the foreboding events that would be played out. Like some message from heaven. Or maybe it was the Romani blood that flowed through him that had made him foresee this. What was it that Polly had said? The part of me that dreams is gypsy.

He could hear Polly crying behind him and the erratic breathing of both Finn and John, but all Tommy could do was scream.

“Get help!” he roared as he held you “somebody get her some fucking help!”

John said something but it sounded warped and muffled to Tommy’s ears and then the sound of his running footsteps followed, and Tommy knew he was gone to fetch someone. Anyone.

You were alive, Tommy could tell that much by how your short breaths left your mouth and how your chest rose and fell unsteadily. But he knew by how fast the blood was gushing from the bullet wound and by how quickly all colour was draining from your skin that you had a very small window of survival.

His eyes were blurry with tears and he could just make out the shape of your beautiful face as he stared at you, and as he blinked the tears dripped onto your skin. He roared furiously as he rocked you back and forth, feeling the sticky blood that covered you slowly soak him from where he knelt in the dirt. He vowed then and there as he clutched your slowly dying body that he would murder whoever done this. Campbell, Sabini, Solomons....it didn’t matter. He would kill them with his own hands and he’d enjoy it.

“Please don’t leave me” he bent his head low and whispered to you, feeling those tears of utter pain soak his face again “I love you and I need you. God above I need you more than ever now”

He thought of Campbell then, and how this mission he had been given needed to be carried out. He thought of how he hadn’t told you, or any of his family, and how much he needed to tell you now, or how much he wanted to love you and hold you because he didn’t know what outcome would present itself. He had thought all along that it would be him who would be shot soon enough, not his beautiful wife.

He wished then underneath the blanket of inky sky, with the dim stars and clouds of smog his only witness, that he could trade places with you. He just held you close to him and cried like he’d never cried before, feeling each stuttering heartbeat of yours that thrummed against his chest. He stayed like that for what felt like a dismal eternity before he heard the dull noise of tyres on gravel.

He felt the dark sky was taking over his senses as he felt you slip out of his grip and into someone else’s, like all darkness in the world was enveloping itself around him. He rose his head and saw John and some stranger lifting you gently into the back of an ambulance car while he stayed kneeling in a pool of his wife’s blood. His mind and heart seemed to be tearing themselves apart from the inside of his rattling body, and all around him he found he could not escape the reality of this nightmare.

The part of me that dreams is gypsy, Polly had once said, but Tommy never wanted to dream again.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic

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whentommymetalfie · 5 years

Text

Be Where You Are

A/N: nothing, my brain is empty from editing! just please enjoy this huge chunk of mostly fluff and forgive me

Summary: Five times Alfie and Tommy talked about spending the rest of their lives together -with each other, with others, and sometimes without doing much talking at all.

In which there's house-hunting, life changing decisions, and yet another failed (sort of) shovel talk from Arthur.

Notes/warnings: Heavy drinking and implied alcoholism, smut

Wordcount: 10 K (yes, yes it’s that long)

It may be true that Alfie Solomons is not the most… patient man in the entire world. He’s well aware of that. But when it comes to the things that truly matters, he’d like to think that he can in fact dig deep and muster up some of it. Patience, that is. Like with everything that concerns Tommy, for example. That includes his at best mildly infuriating and at worst absolutely unbearable family. And the living situation on Watery Lane. He’s put up with that far longer than any sane (or… less sane) man should ever have to.

But it’s the lock on their door breaking that finally is the last fucking drop.

Alfie has suffered through Arthur banging on their door at all hours, from early fucking morning to late in the evening (And yeah he’s entirely fucking sure that he does it just to disrupt any amorous activity that may or may not be going on in there, despite Tommy rolling his eyes at this and stating that not even Arthur could be that childish).

He’s quietly bitten his tongue whenever Ada’s passed by to ask irrelevant questions; like if Tommy has seen her missing dress. And no, why on earth would he have done that? Ada only gives Alfie a look when he grumbles this, which makes him wonder exactly what she thinks he and Tommy get up to in bed. When he brings this up with Tommy, Tommy is mostly annoyed that Alfie thinks Ada’s dress would even fit him. (He’s pretty sure that it would bu that’s not the point)

Then there’s John, who can’t seem to take a single step without checking with Tommy first whether it’s alright or not…. And all of these are just things that Alfie can come up with at the top of his head.

Well, the point is that he’s been very fucking patient with all of it. Because if the Shelbys all want to share the roof of that giant, rickety ancestral home, then that’s all well and good. And yeah he’s well aware that the whole lot -Tommy in particular, even though he’d deny it to his dying day- suffer some kind of collective abandonment issue. So, Tommy moving out before Finn is older is out of the question.

But when Arthur actually manages to break the fucking lock on their bedroom door by bursting in through it, Alfie’s had enough. On top of it all, he just got Tommy onto his back, making those noises that would make the best of men commit all sorts of atrocities if only to hear them again. Legs spread and cheeks flushed, and looking absolutely worthy to be devoured…

That’s when Arthur stumbles in, effectively putting a stop to the whole thing. And once he has rushed out again, red faced and shouting, Tommy is not in the mood anymore. In fact he’s so much not in the mood that he rolls over onto his side and hides his face under a pillow when Alfie suggests that now when they’ve scared Arthur off, they might as well get back to what they were doing.

And that’s when Alfie’s had enough.

“Tommy, my dove,” he says, very carefully keeping the frustration from his voice as he runs a hand up Tommy’s arm. “Has it, and I ask this with the best of intentions in mind, has it ever fucking crossed your mind that living somewhere where your relatives can’t burst through the door at all hours would bring you some peace of mind?”

A muffled noise comes from under the pillow.

“See, I know it might take some time getting used to the idea, but finding a good house, yeah, that’s also something that takes a bit of time, doesn’t it? So you might’s well start looking, should you decide later that this is an acceptable idea-“ It’s very hard to gauge Tommy’s reaction when he’s under the pillow like this, so Alfie pauses. But when no life signs come from the feathery depths, he goes on: “I’m not saying that I’m tired of these constant interruptions, no, who doesn’t want people running in and out of one’s bedroom at all hours, fucking brilliant thing, isn’t it? All I’m saying is that your family would most definitely survive making a phone call instead. Or just taking a little walk when they feel the need to ask you something.”

Tommy is quiet and Alfie has the good sense to stay quiet too, knowing this is the mandatory processing time that he needs to go through before giving some kind of response.

Finally he rolls over onto his back, pulling away the pillow to reveal a head full of messy curls and cheeks that are still a bit flushed.

Alfie waits expectantly.

Tommy reaches for a cigarette.

“Fine,” he says, raising an eyebrow when Alfie gives him an incredulous look.

“Fine?”

“Fine.” Tommy lights the cigarette.

And that’s that.

A week later, Alfie is coming along as certified ‘Haver of great taste’ on this house buying mission.

“Now this, Tommy, this is a proper bedroom,” he says, cane tapping over the wooden flooring as he inspects the spacious room with its fancy wallpaper. But it’s a bit of an overstatement, that. The room is in fact not very inviting. Something about it feels… inhospitable and cold. But that’s what you get with an empty house, innit? And it’s better than Tommy’s little nook back in his family home.

Tommy nods, decidedly unenthusiastic. Not that his face is giving it away, but Alfie can read most of his tiny little shifts in mood without any problem these days. There’s that slight slump to his shoulders, and the way he’s not quite looking properly at the room. The same it’s been with the other four fucking houses they’ve been to. Alfie is starting to feel all the staircases in his knees.

“Could put a bed over there, and fit in a huge wardrobe for all those expensive suits of yours-“ he says. “Could have two, even.”

Instead of looking, Tommy stands by the window and gazes listlessly out at the dreary street below, smoking his cigarette with the same air of indifference.

“Do you like it?” he asks.

The question sort of surprises Alfie, because although he’s realised long ago that Tommy does in fact care a great deal about his opinion, it’s unlike him to admit it out loud.

“Well, love, I do fancy myself a man of good taste in all matters, the present company clearly being proof of that. But for once, what I think isn’t what’s most important.”

Tommy very thoroughly avoids looking at him.

“Well, it’d… be your house too.” He says the words with a slight shrug and carefully constructed nonchalance. Swallows visibly -Alfie can see it all the way from across the room. “Ours.”

Ours.

Maybe it’s ridiculous, how monumental that little word feels, but Alfie can’t help it -it does send him reeling for a bit. It’s not like they don’t already live together. They do, in most senses of the word. Wherever Tommy is, Alfie is too. And vice versa of course. But that’s been more of a gradual thing rather than a big decision -Tommy has just slowly crept into every crevice of Alfie’s townhouse back in London: an ashtray on the kitchen table, well pressed suits hanging between Alfie’s own in the wardrobe, extra blankets in the bed because Tommy always runs a few degrees colder than any other warm blooded creature… And the house is arguably just as much Tommy’s home as it is Alfie’s now. But Alfie has a feeling that although Tommy might view it as both of their home, it’s still Alfie’s house. Alfie isn’t entirely sure if there’s a distinction to be made, but it feels like there is.

Buying a fucking house together feels like officially stating out loud that this is a permanent kind of thing. And even though Alfie has known that particular fact for a while, even though they’ve talked about the prospect of doing it in the future, there’s still something about hearing Tommy say it out loud that fills his entire chest with warmth.

“Ours, eh?” he repeats and Tommy’s shoulders set into a rigid line. He walks up behind him and smooths a hand over them. “Well, in that case we should be looking at something with an actual, proper fucking kitchen.” He can feel the muscles relax under his palm. “Yeah? And with a more appealing view, if that is to be found in this shithole.”

“Maybe something outside of the city,” Tommy says quietly, still looking out the window.

Alfie says nothing. Barely dares to breathe

Tommy clears his throat. “You know… like we talked about. I’ve been thinking and- and it might be nice. We could always just drive into town for work.”

Alfie still says nothing, for fear that anything he might say will ruin this. But he lets the hand on Tommy’s shoulder slip down to his waist, tugging him a bit closer. Tommy willingly turns to face him, arms coming up to loosely encircle his neck. His eyes are still fastened on some undetermined spot on his chest.

“Yeah, well, then we’ll have no trouble with the view,” Alfie says after careful consideration. “Whole countryside is full of it, innit? Granted that’s all it’s full of, but that’s the whole point of it, right?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Tommy’s mouth and he finally glances up at Alfie. Alfie rubs small circles on his back with his thumb.

“You sure about this? Don’t have to be doing anything you’re not ready for, love.”

Tommy leans in that last little bit and kisses him. And then the smile finally widens into a real one -the kind that makes his eyes sparkle and manages to light up the entire, previously so cold room.”

“I’m sure.”

Two

Alfie wakes up from the book he’s been reading very falling down onto his face, and blinks to adjust his eyes to the darkness in the living room. The fire has died down to glowing embers, telling him that he must’ve somehow managed to sleep with the book in upright position for a while before it rudely decided to jam the edge of his glasses into his face. It also tells him that it’s late, and, combined with the silence in the house (and the fact that Tommy would no doubt have moved the book from his grasp) tells him that Tommy hasn’t come home yet and is working a whole lot later than usual. And he is just about to get off the sofa and call the office to tell Tommy to get himself home right this instance when the door creaks open. The annoyance is instantly replaced with relief, because fuck it, he can’t help it. Just the way he functions, innit?

He can hear Tommy moving about in the hallway, and it’s probably a sign of something significant, that he can hear just from his steps that there’s something wrong. Unwilling to explore that thought any further, he closes the book and listens.

“Tommy?”

There’s no answer, and that’s enough of an incentive for him to struggle his way off the sofa and out into the hallway. Tommy is stood by the large bureau, clutching the top in a white knuckled grip. A quick onceover tells Alfie that at least he’s not fucking bleeding from anywhere. But he’s so pale that his skin looks fucking luminous in the dark hallway.

“Oi, Tommy?” He crosses the hallway in a few long strides, and that’s when he can smell the whiskey. Tommy glances up at him, bleary eyed and flushed, swaying on his feet.

“Fucks sake,” Alfie sighs and pitches forward to catch him when his legs inevitably give out. Tommy clings to him, shuddering breaths making his back heave. He uselessly tries to catch his gaze without much success. “Hey, are you gonna be sick?”

All he gets in response is a weak hum, but it’s enough. Wasting no time, he drags Tommy into the kitchen and to the sink -the closest appropriate place to be sick- and barely has time to deposit him there before Tommy is vomiting his guts out. Alfie pats his back and mulls over if he could’ve seen this coming earlier in the day.

“I take it you broke into my desk, hm? Or will I find one of the fucking stills empty tomorrow, eh, silly boy…”

His disapproving mutters go unnoticed. Not that Tommy is really capable of listening right then, because he barely has time to breathe between the horrid waves of retching. Alfie puts all other thoughts on halt and just focuses on damage control, continuing to rub Tommy’s back and steadying him against his hip when his knees want to buckle. Not much else to do right then. But Tommy just continues vomiting long after the most likely meager contents of his stomach are gone, and finally, the bile that splashes into the sink is red with blood. Fucking hell. Yeah, he’ll have to step in here…

He puts a hand on the back of Tommy’s neck.

“Alright, deep breaths now, love,” he says. “You ain’t got nothing left to vomit up so I’m gonna need you to just breathe for a bit. Go on-“ Tommy pants, still hunched low over the sink on shaking arms, and Alfie takes the opportunity to fill a glass of water. He manhandles Tommy into a somewhat upright position against his chest and holds it to his mouth. Tommy just whines and turns his head away. His skin feels cold and clammy when he pushes his forehead into the crook of Alfie’s neck.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah it’s all fine,” he mutters and resists the urge to sigh. “Go on and drink this, or you’ll be even sorrier tomorrow.”

Tommy leans all his weight against him, and Alfie has to wrap an arm around his waist to keep him upright, all while continuing to fruitlessly push the glass of water against his lips. It takes a few more seconds, and then Tommy finally opens his mouth, grabs the glass and greedily swallows the entire thing down in three long gulps before Alfie can protest or remedy the situation-

Which of course has him hunching over the sink again, vomiting it all up within a second.

They end up on the floor after the whole ordeal, because Tommy just collapses where he stands and Alfie isn’t quite quick enough to do anything but break his fall. He’s still dry heaving somehow, and it’s right about then Alfie actually starts to worry.

“Tommy, hey, I’m gonna need you to focus for a moment here,” he says and holds his head up by his chin. Tommy’s eyes are still closed, his long lashes dark against his cheek. “Do you need me to get you to a hospital? Is it that kind of situation?”

Tommy shakes his head and curls into him, tearing his chin away from Alfie’s grip to bury his face in his shirt. And at least he’s stopped dry heaving for now, so Alfie will take his fucking word for it.

“ ‘m sorry,” Tommy repeats against his chest when Alfie pulls him into his lap. He’s finally opened his eyes a little, if only barely, and looks up at him, struggling to focus.

“What are you sorry for, eh?”

“Just… fuck up all the time.”

Alfie sighs and tries to adjust his right leg to avoid a cramp.

“Feel like telling me why you suddenly decided to fucking drown yourself in whiskey on this fine day?” he mutters and pets Tommy’s hair. “Seemed alright when I left you at the office.”

Tommy shrugs and slurs, “ ‘s just bad. ‘vrything’s bad.”

Alfie hums. Tries to not feel disappointed because he really thought they’d gotten past this. But it’s a two steps forward, one step back kind of deal, isn’t it? It’s been… well now when he thinks about it it’s been months since Tommy last had a proper slump, so they’re probably due for one. And they’re fewer and farther between now. He tries to remind himself of that.

“Bad day eh? How about you just do what you normally do and tell me, instead of doing shit like this.”

Tommy pulls his knees up to his chest, turns himself into a ball as he buries his face in Alfie’s chest and just breathes. Alfie continues stroking his hair.

“You’ll get sick of me,” he mutters suddenly, without emerging.

“Well, I do recall us having this conversation before. Multiple times, in fact, but I suppose I can remind you: since I haven’t gotten sick of you yet, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Maybe- maybe not now, but in- in five years. Or ten,” Tommy mumbles. “Twenty.”

Despite the implication -that Tommy himself can’t see an end to these occasional burst of self-destructive behavior- Alfie can’t help smiling.

“Twenty years, eh? We’re in this for the long haul I hear.”

Tommy’s entire body freezes into a tightly coiled ball of muscles. But Alfie keeps stroking his hair.

“I won’t get sick of you, love. Not in ten years, or twenty, or fuckin’… fifty. Though I can’t promise that you won’t eventually get sick of me now, can I. That’s a long fucking time, fifty years.”

Under his fingers, Tommy’s back heaves in a shivering breath and he pushes his face further into the confines of Alfie’s wrinkled shirt. He wraps his arms around Alfie’s chest.

“I won’t. Not for… for as long as I live.”

Alfie has to clear his throat.

“Well, that’s good, innit? Because you’re sort of stuck with me now.”

“Good.”

And with that, Tommy has apparently fallen asleep in his lap.

Three

”How many people have you slept with?” Alfie asks Tommy one night, as the beginning of what could quickly turn into the worst pillow talk in recorded history. But it’s one of those occasions when the question just pops straight from his mind and out of his mouth. Luckily, he’s spent the past hour or so doing a very good job of fucking Tommy in every position imaginable, and Tommy lies satiated and warm against his chest. So his question is only met with a quiet little laugh.

“Haven’t we talked about this before?”

“Nah, then I was just wondering if you’d slept with that tall, lanky…” Alfie gestures to help the words along, “Communist fellow.

“Freddie Thorne,” Tommy offers helpfully.

“Hm, yeah, that’s the one. But now I’m just thinking about the general number.”

Tommy shifts, lifting his head up and settling his chin on Alfie’s chest. His eyes are still soft, a glint of laughter in them.

“Hm, what was it? Half of Birmingham or something, wasn’t that what you said at some point? So how many would that be?”

Alfie snorts, even though he probably deserved that.

“Why do you ask?” Tommy wonders then, genuinely curious it would seem. Alfie shrugs a little, a hard feat while lying down.

“It just feels a bit strange doesn’t it? The idea that you might not fuck anyone else for the rest of your life. That this is all you’ll be getting.”

“Oh, ifthisis all I’ll be getting, I’ll be more than satisfied,” Tommy whispers, and suddenly there’s a hand on his cock, fingers curling loosely around the shaft.

“Always knew you only wanted me for my cock,” Alfie says with mock offence, and Tommy smirks as he begins stroking him slowly.

“Well, in my defense, it’s a very nice cock. Best one I ever had in fact. And I should know, seeing as I’ve slept with… half of Birmingham.”

All blood is rapidly leaving his head, and Alfie sighs, feeling quite pleased with the turn the conversation has taken. Tommy rubs careful circles over the head of his cock, and he slips a hand down to grip his arse firmly, pulling him closer against his hip.

“Mhm, talk more about how much you like my cock.”

Tommy huffs out a laugh and kisses him, slow and soft as he rubs himself against Alfie’s thigh. Alfie is fully hard already, aching and leaking in Tommy’s grip, because fucking hell if he’s not ready to give it to him again whenever Tommy wants it…

“As if your ego needs it,” Tommy whispers against his lips, before sitting up and straddling him. Alfie’s hands immediately find his waist, palms flexing against the expanse of smooth skin and lean muscle. Tommy’s waist fits perfectly there, with Alfie’s fingers around it. Just as the rest of his body fits against Alfie’s: how his head lies perfectly against that spot on his chest, or how Alfie can tuck him under his chin… like a perfect puzzle piece- And then his thoughts are interrupted because Tommy rolls his hips, grinding down on his hard length and he bucks up against him, impatient. It seems to be one of those days when Tommy doesn’t need much convincing, because he just takes Alfie’s cock in hand again and sinks down slowly, moaning obscenely as it slides all the way in. He’s slick and open from before and something about that, fuck, that just makes Alfie so turned on that he gets fucking dizzy… That Tommy just so ready for him: wet and just barely open enough- Fucking hell this isn’t going to last long if he keeps this train of thought. He bites his tongue hard, hoping the pain will bring him back enough to keep himself from coming right then.

Tommy rides him slowly, just barely lifting his hips to begin with. Must be a bit too deep to really be doing it for him, but fuck it really does it for Alfie, is the thing, and Tommy appears pleased to just be giving him what he wants. He’s so fucking wet and warm and tight, and he must be feeling it because Alfie went none to gently on him before. Tommy curls his fingers loosely around his own cock and moves in tandem with his thrusts, eyes falling shut.

Alfie just keeps his hands on his waist for now, lightly, not trying to control anything. When Tommy gets on top like this, it’s usually because he wants to set the pace himself, and who is Alfie to deny him anything?

“Fucking hell, just look at you,” he breathes out. “Wish you could see yourself now, love- really is something else entirely, aren’t you?”

Tommy lets go of his cock and settles his hands on Alfie’s chest instead, lifting his hips higher and making Alfie slide almost all the way out before sinking back down. Moans each time, loud and unabashed and fucking desperate for it, as if it wasn’t just half an hour ago that Alfie pounded him into the mattress until he’d screamed himself hoarse.

Then he tugs at Alfie’s shoulders and Alfie takes the hint immediately, sitting up and wrapping his arms tightly around that narrow waist.

“Why would I ever want anyone else, ever again?” Tommy leans in and whispers, voice husky and unsteady in a way that just shoots arousal down his spine. He rolls his hips, cock brushing against Alfie’s stomach. His legs are trembling now, so Alfie helps him along, holding his weight up with his arms. Fingers tangle into his hair and Tommy kisses him, wet and sloppy and panting loudly, frantically pulling in the too hot air between them. Alfie has no answer of course, because with Tommy like this on his lap, grinding down on his cock and looking like it really is the best fucking thing he’s ever had, no, he can’t come up with a reason why.

“Fuck, it’s so good- so fucking good Alfie I-“ Tommy buries his face in the crook of his neck, clinging properly to his shoulders now. “No one else could ever come close.”

Alfie’s hips are moving on their own accord now, while he virtually takes Tommy’s entire weight and lifts him up and down on his cock, because Tommy’s legs have apparently decided to give up. And he doesn’t fucking mind in the least, does he? Because Tommy makes these desperate little noises, rutting and grinding against him as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Won’t ever have to worry about that now, do you?” Alfie mutters into his ear. “Because you’re all mine and I’m going to take care of you. Fucking hell, if I had my way, you wouldn’t ever have to leave the bed. Would just keep you there. Make sure you’re fucked real good every single day… several times a day, because that’s what you want isn’t it?”

Tommy whimpers, and Alfie releases his waist to wind his fingers into his hair and pull his head back. And Tommy is just there, unable to move properly and just desperately grinding on Alfie’s cock. And it’s a fucking sight alright. His eyes are blown wide, filled with that raw, open vulnerability. It makes Alfie growl and tug harder at his hair.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” Tommy whispers. “Always.”

Then his hands are back on Alfie’s shoulders and he pushes himself up, despite his shaking legs and clenches around Alfie and that’s it, Alfie fucking goneand he fucks up and into Tommy, arms clenched tight around his waist again. Tommy lets out an almost pained sound, shaking and twitching in his grip as he comes all over his stomach.

He collapses completely against him afterwards. Alfie can’t be bothered to stay upright and slumps down onto the mattress, but manages to at least be considerate enough to keep Tommy from hitting his head on the bedframe.

It takes several minutes before Alfie comes back enough to himself to manoeuvre Tommy off him, which is necessary, because God knows Tommy will just stay right where he is for the rest of the night otherwise, with Alfie’s cock still buried in his arse. Always needy and clingy after sex, Tommy of course whimpers out various complaints, until Alfie has got him settled against his chest again. And that, well that’s somehow just as great as the actual sex isn’t it? Alfie hushes him. Strokes his back until he’s calmed down again and seems at peace. Tommy drapes one leg across Alfie’s hip and noses against that spot on his chest that’s become his designated head rest, right below his left collarbone.

Alfie runs a finger down his spine, grabs the blanket and pulls it up over them both. Because although he still feels overheated, he knows for a fact that Tommy will start shivering in a minute. That’s just how it works.

“So, I take it you’re not going to miss fucking anyone else? Hm? Is that what I should take away from this?” He smirks to himself when he sees the exasperated wrinkle between Tommy’s eyebrows. “See, because I might need more convincing. Not straight away, mind you, but in half an hour or so…”

Tommy slaps his arm with the conviction of a sleepy cat swatting for a fly that’s buzzing around it’s ears.

“Fuck off. You’ve gotten yours tonight. Twice.”

“Oh, it’s more than that if you count the times I very selflessly made you come, love, How about you add that to the list of my fine qualities? What other man has done that for you?”

“If you continue to be this infuriating, I might find someone else who will,” Tommy mutters and shuffles a bit closer still.

Alfie continues, undeterred because he’s feeling quite pleased with himself right now thank you very much.“See, love, there’s only one thing that’s better than knowing you’re a generous and considerate lover,” he says and ignores Tommy’s annoyed groan. “Who can make their partner come their brains out several times in a single evening, and that’s knowing that you’re better than all the previous ones…”

“You’re fucking impossible” Tommy mutters into his chest, keeping his head firmly pressed against it while clinging to him. “Now shut up and let me sleep, or I will banish you to the sofa.”

Alfie scoffs, “Empty threats, love. You know better than to play cards like that.”

Tommy opens one eye and gives him a glare. Going against one of those would definitely be pushing his luck, so the best route now would be to stay quiet. But he does press a kiss against Tommy’s forehead. Which is met with another little huff.

Tommy is still smiling against his chest. He can tell.

Four

There are plenty of things about Tommy’s older brother that Alfie finds infuriating. Were he to make a list, it would most likely be impossible to complete: Arthur would find new ways to bother him while he was writing said list and constantly add to it. But somewhere at the top of that hypothetical list, he’d put the fact that Arthur Shelby has the worst possible timing for absolutely everything. From barging into Tommy’s office with some question just when Alfie has persuaded Tommy to take a little break from working to sit on his lap for just a tiny bit, to calling them at home in London (God knows how he got the fucking number) demanding to speak with Tommy about all sorts of irrelevant matters, usually once they’ve finally settled in for the evening.

So really, it should be no surprise that when Alfie steps into the Shelby household much later than he’d anticipated and passes the kitchen, he hears a familiar voice.

“Oi, Solomons, a word.”

Alfie stops in his tracks and groans because fuck, has Arthur just set up permanent shop in the fucking kitchen? Ready at any time to call people in and have various ‘chats’ with them about questions that are none of his business and yet somehow crucial for him to put his nose in.

And furthermore it’s fucking late and he’s had a hellish evening dealing with incompetent employees and a broken still, so all he wants to do now is go upstairs to Tommy. Pull him close and bury his nose in soft hair that smells faintly of soap and smoke...

“Unless you hadn’t noticed, I was actually on my way to something more important. Namely to a bed that has your brother in it,” he tells Arthur and can’t keep himself from adding: “See if he’s up for getting a bit of cock on this fine evening.“

Arthur chokes on his whiskey. And really he should’ve fucking expected an answer like that. But he still waves for him to sit down and bloody hell, Alfie figures that it’s better to just have it fucking over with. So he ambles over to the kitchen table, slumps down on a chair and leans back in it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alright, as I’m sure you can see, I’m here,” he says when Arthur just stares at him. “So fucking talk.”

Arthur promptly empties his whiskey glass and then refills it.

“I’ve been thinking-“

Alfie huffs out a laugh. “Oh watch out, you might hurt yourself.”

Arthur glares, clears his throat and leans back in his chair, mimicking Alfie’s pose. Puts on what is most likely supposed to be a serious face, takes a breath… and fuck, Alfie is seconds away from just getting up and leaving when he finally gets to the point and says, “What are your intentions with Tommy?”

It takes a while for Alfie to take this in, even though the buildup should’ve adequately prepared him for something this stupid.

“What?”

“What are your intentions with my little brother?” Arthur repeats, over annunciating every single word, as if that will clarify anything. My little brother… Arthur always adds that when he’s feeling particularly over protective. As if to further hammer home the point -mostly to himself probably- that he is indeed the older and wiser out of the two of them. That Tommy is his responsibility.

Alfie blinks. “Yeah, well if you really want to know, right now I intend to go upstairs and see if he’s still awake. And then possibly make him come his brains out a few times-“

Arthur’s face turns a darker shade of red and his moustache twitches in that absolutely hilarious way. His right hand clenches into a fist where it’s placed on the table. But he doesn’t lose it. Surprising, that.

“Which I really should prioritize right now so if we’re done here…” Alfie puts both palms on the table and makes a half-hearted effort to stand up but of-fucking- course Arthur won’t have that

“You know what I fucking mean,” he snaps.

“Well, dear Arthur, as it so happens I don’t actually know what you fucking mean so if you could fucking clarify…”

Arthur glares down at his whiskey. Moves the glass a bit to the right. Moves it back again… Alfie sinks deeper into his chair and sighs demonstratively.

“He loves you,” Arthur says, suddenly, still studying the glass. “Really… fucking loves you.”

Alfie decides to be quiet.

“Fucking hell I never thought that it- that it would actually go this far,” Arthur continues. “But he fucking loves you, more than- than I think he’s ever loved anyone or anything.”

Yeah and what on earth is happening now? It’s getting bloody uncomfortable, that’s what. So Alfie opens his mouth to fucking say something, but Arthur waves a hand dismissively and keeps talking.

“And the thing, the fucking thing is that now… Well, he wouldn’t fucking survive you leaving, alright? Almost fucking fell apart completely when you had that fight. And if you- if this isn’t fucking permanent in your eyes, then I…“ Arthur allows himself a moment of silence, probably because he discovers that Alfie won’t interrupt him. “It would fucking kill him,” he then finally says, without the tiniest bit of smile. Dead fucking serious.

And something about the tone… Alfie can’t bring himself to say something snide or sharp, but he doesn’t exactly have any other options either, so he just continues being silent.

“And, yeah I don’t know what to do with that fucking realization. Sure I can do the whole ‘If you ever hurt my brother I’ll hunt you down and fucking beat you to death with your own cane-spiel, but-” Arthur pauses again to breathe. “But that doesn’t really matter does it?”

Alfie sighs. “Fucking hell I’m not in the mood for this-“

He rubs his temples and realizes that a bit of sincerity is the only thing that will work here, even though he really is in no mood to be having conversations like this with Arthur.

He shoots a glare at the man in question. “What’s all this, eh, Arthur? Trying to catch up on 30 years of big-brother duties all of a sudden.”

Arthur ignores the remark and takes a swig of whiskey. Stares into the liquid again. “We just got him back, you know? We finally fucking got him back, and now I’m terrified that without you, he’d…”

He trails off and silence fills the kitchen.

“Nah, give your brother some credit,” Alfie says. “As much as I’d like to think that I have a magical cock that just… miraculously heals broken heads, Tommy’s done plenty of work to pull himself out of that pit he’s been in.”

Arthur sways forward and sets both forearms down on the table with a bang.

“Just give me a straight answer here,” he slurs, going a bit cross eyed as he watches Alfie. “Be honest with me here, between... two people, who just really fucking care about him alright?”

“You know that Tommy would fucking kill you if he found out you were having this conversation with me, right”

Arthur just keeps gazing at him with dim eyes, as if he didn’t even hear it.

Alfie sighs again. Fuck it.

“Alright, you want to hear what my fucking intentions are, do you?” He rests his forearms on the table and hunches forward, trying to catch Arthur’s eyes. “Even though you really have no fucking business knowing them. But I’ll fucking indulge you, alright? So here it goes, and you better fucking listen because I’ll only be saying this once: If we had lived in a world that was just a bit different… Or perhaps if Tommy had been a woman and I hadn’t just been an old sodomite, yeah? Well, then I’d have asked to marry him long ago.” He stops staring at Arthur’s face- stares past his shoulder instead, at a wall. “Would’ve done it all… fancy and the like. Taken him to some nice place. Bought an ungodly expensive ring. The whole deal-” he clears his throat, suddenly realizing he’s said far too much. But surprisingly, Arthur doesn’t take the chance to laugh in his face or something of the sort. Instead he just sits there, staring down at the tabletop. “That enough of an answer for you, eh, Arthur?” Alfie grunts when he finally can’t take the silence anymore. “Think you can get some peace of mind?”

Arthur opens his mouth, looks up, and his eyes drift to the doorway.

“Well, would you look at that. You’re talking, and the house is still standing. And no one is bleeding, from what I can see.”

The statement is finished off with a yawn and Alfie turns in his chair to see Tommy standing there in the doorway. He’s clad in only Alfie’s shirt and underwear, hair mussed from the pillow and with this soft, sleepy expression on his face that just makes Alfie’s heart skip a beat… But fuck how is it possible for him to walk so quietly? Alfie tries not to panic when he realizes that Tommy might’ve stood there for a very long time.

“Yeah, we’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” he says, feeling like his tongue is too big for his mouth. Tommy smiles and comes up to stand by his side. Alfie wraps an arm around his hips. Pulls him close

“Are you coming to bed soon?” he asks and leans into him a bit, soft and relaxed. Looks down at him through a fan of long, long, dark lashes. The way he is sometimes in the mornings after a good night’s sleep (and, if Alfie might add, a good and proper fuck before that).

“Yeah sure, if your crazy brother is quite finished with me, I’d very much like to go to bed.” Alfie tears his eyes away from Tommy long enough to look questioningly at Arthur. “Arthur here was just telling me about his secret dream of moving out into a hut in the forest to raise sheep for the rest of his days, and I told him to just go for it-“

Arthur sighs, as if the entire weight of the world was just dropped down onto his shoulders and gives Tommy a look.

“Really, Tommy, out of all the men you could’ve fucking picked, you just had to go with the most infuriating one?”

“Oh absolutely,” Tommy says solemnly. “It was very high up on my list of demands for possible partners-“

Alfie smirks. “Number one of course being that they must be above average both in stamina and in how well-endowed they are-“

“Number two: must be absolutely unbearable to be around,” Tommy fills him in.

“Fucks sake, you two. Absolutely fucking impossible,” Arthur mutters and looks almost pleadingly at Tommy when he adds, “Doesn’t it scare you that you’re gonna have to put up with this for the rest of your life?”

Alfie isn’t sure if Arthur fucking realizes how stupid it is, asking Tommy a question like that. But Tommy just keeps smiling.

“Not really, no,” he says, giving Alfie another look. “So… bedroom?” The quirked eyebrow gets Alfie up and moving.

“Well, it’s been a nice little talk, this, Arthur. All around fucking brilliant and enlightening, just as all talks with you are, mate,” he says as he stands, his arm sliding up around Tommy’s waist to pull him closer. “But I think it’s time for me and Tommy to go upstairs and-“

Arthur’s frame seems to draw together into what can only be described as a full body cringe

“Don’t want to hear it!” And the fucker actually slams is hands over his ears. Tommy snorts and walks out of the kitchen with Alfie close behind.

In the hallway, he takes Alfie’s arm in a sudden uncharacteristic move for closeness. And Alfie wonders just how much of the conversation he heard. Can’t have been much, if the good mood is anything to go by. Only reaction Tommy could reasonably have to listening in on a conversation like that is either being pissed off or absolutely freaking out. And he’s doing neither. Could of course ask. Get it out in the open. But it feels unnecessary to start poking around in it, because Tommy looks so… at peace. Happy. And Alfie would be a fool to start asking questions that might ruin that. So he leaves it be. Over all, Alfie tries to not dwell on the whole conversation; not on his own words and not on whether Tommy was there to hear them or not. Just like he tries to not… lose himself in that fantasy. Because, well, saying it out loud just turned it all the more visceral and it’s sort of hard to ignore it now. As if just saying the words out loud made him realize it on a whole different level.

Realize that if things had been different, he would’ve---

But they’re not. So there’s no point in dwelling on it.

Then again, who’s to fucking decide what sort of questions he can and can’t ask Tommy, even if it would just be a symbolic kind of thing? Not like either of them pay much attention to what is right and proper in the eyes of the law in any other aspect. Why should this be any different?

“What are you thinking about?”

He realizes he’s been standing with his shirt unbuttoned halfway, just staring into the distance. Tommy is already in bed, all bundled up in the blankets and watching him with sleepy eyes.

“Oh, nothing, love. Just the usual, eh?” Alfie mutters and finishes unbuttoning the shirt. “The weather, state of the English pound… things like that.”

Tommy yawns and sinks a bit deeper into the pillows.

“Well, if you want to do something besides sleeping tonight, you better think less and get undressed more. I’m already half asleep.”

“Oh would you look at that, love, a pig just fluttered by outside the window,” Alfie chuckles but puts some extra focus into getting his clothes off. Tommy lets out a snort that is most likely supposed to sound indignant, but when Alfie is finally down to his underwear and crawls into bed next to him, he’s all soft eyes and smiles again. And Alfie is tempted to ask what’s put him in such a good mood, but that is guaranteed to ruin it. So instead he just kisses him. And decides that all the thoughts the conversation with Arthur stirred up can wait till tomorrow.

Five

Arrow House -or whatever the fuck it’s called- is an enormous block of bricks. Question is if it could even be deemed a house, what with the size and everything. No, it’s not just a house, of course. It’s a whole fucking estate.

Alfie walks through yet another room that could possibly be a bedroom -guest or otherwise, and wonders who the fuck needs this many room.

But apparently, this is the kind of house people of their ‘stature’ should have. It’s what everyone keeps saying. Tommy too. So of course when the opportunity presented itself to buy the estate of one Lord Whatever-The-Fuck-His-Name-Was -who apparently fucked off permanently to one of the colonies for whatever reason- they at least had to take a look.

So now they’re here, wandering around this castle like structure and getting lost. Alfie hasn’t seen Tommy for several minutes, it’s quite possible that he’ll never find the exit again and he’s pretty sure he’s heard a minimum of five restless spirits.

It’s all around, not a great experience.

Alfie opens the door to the next room, finding it just as empty as the last one. It feels like the sheer size of the building is about to swallow him whole. He gazes out over the giant lawn that stretches before the house. And the vastness of that isn’t helping either.

He moves on to the next room, trying to ignore the way the echoes of his cane bounces off the walls.

That room is empty too, and now he’s seriously beginning to wonder where Tommy has gone.

“Tommy?” He stands stock still, straining his ears to hear a response.

“Alfie?” Ah, there it is. Seems like he’s far away though.

“Where are you?” he calls out again, moving in the supposed direction where Tommy’s voice came from. It takes him out into yet another corridor, with far too many doors. That doesn’t bode well.

“I’m not sure,” Tommy calls back and Alfie lets out a chuckle. “In… a room.”

“What can you see outside the window?” He starts opening doors, feeling increasingly like he’s part of a giant joke.

“Grass,” Tommy calls back, and despite the unhelpful nature of the response it still makes Alfie laugh. It sounds like he’s at the far end of the corridor somewhere, so he sets off in that direction. And of course he still has to try three different rooms that all look exactly the same before he finds Tommy, stood in what appears to have been the master bedroom, judging by the canopy bed that has been left there.

“There you are!”

Tommy turns away from the window and gives Alfie a faint smile.

“We’re gonna have to install… fucking phone lines or something between all these rooms if we’re gonna find each other,” Alfie states and walks up to him, standing to inspect the view. And yeah, granted it’s better than the dreary houses in Birmingham, but again, there’s something oddly… eerie over the giant fields of grass. Feels as empty and lifeless as the house. “But I suppose we’ll get used to it, eh? Having to spend a few minutes just looking for each other every time we’re separated. And we’ll have to plan things in advance too, seeing as it takes at least ten fucking minutes to walk from one end of the house to the other.”

Tommy hums and turns to face the interior of the room, inspecting the ceiling that sits high above them.

“Have you looked at the rest of the rooms on this end?” Alfie asks when the silences stretches on. Tommy shakes his head, which prompts him to put a hand on the small of his back.

“Well, how about we do that, then? And then, might I suggest we go out into the sunshine? Fucking freezing in here, innit?”

Tommy is quiet as they inspect the four remaining rooms in this wing, so Alfie fills the silence by talking about the amount of people they’ll need to hire just to keep this house in order. And making little suggestions on what could be done to the rooms to make them slightly less… ghostly. A word he doesn’t use of course, because saying things like that is bound to make the whole house feel even more eerie.

Tommy’s got a wrinkle between his eyebrows the entire time, and his jaw is clenched oddly tight. It’s not until they get back to the main entrance, and are stood on the staircase overlooking the grand hallway and front door, that he finally speaks.

“I don’t… like it.”

Alfie cuts himself off mid-ramble.

Tommy sounds incredulous. As if he can’t quite believe his own words.

“No?”

Tommy shakes his head and looks around; At the intricate wood panelling, the heavy oak floors and the thick velvet curtains that hang in front of the windows.

“Well, it’s hard to imagine living in it now, I suppose,” Alfie says to help him along. “Bet with some furnitures it’ll feel a bit more homely.”

A fucking lie if there ever was one.

Tommy shakes his head and sets off down the stairs, leaving Alfie to follow. Once they’re down in the hallway, Tommy looks around the room again.

“You do realise of course, sweetheart, that this is hardly the kind of house I’d want to live in either?”

“It’s not?”

“Now, love, when have I ever expressed that I’d like to live in a giant fucking ghost house that feels about as homely as an abandoned sanatorium?”

Tommy sighs and the tension finally creeps from his shoulders.

“Suppose it just… seemed like the next natural step.”

“Yeah, yeah because this is the kind of fucking house people with money live in, innit?” Alfie scoffs and taps his cane against an ornate fixture by a door. “Big gaudy things that require a whole squad of helpers and… cooks and fucking gardeners. And it’s still just as fucking lonely and miserable- I mean fucking look at it! Who needs all this fucking space? And it’s so fucking dark everywhere, even with all the windows”

He cuts himself off because Tommy’s got a sort of haunted look in his eyes.

“That about sums up why you’re not feeling it?” he asks, softer this time and Tommy shrugs a little.

“Maybe.”

Alfie walks up to the front door, resolute, and opens it. The sun streams into the hallway and a gust of wind blows in and ruffles Tommy’s hair. There, looks a whole lot better already. Alfie takes him by the hand and leads him out.

“I say fuck this house and whoever built it. Let’s go home

Tommy follows to the car without a word of protest.

Tommy isn’t too keen on looking at houses after that incident. So Alfie decides to hit pause on the whole thing for just a little while -sometimes he just needs a bit more time than other people to process things like this. But they do eventually look at another one, and that turns out -if possible- even worse. First off, it’s too far away from Birmingham. Then the estate agent tells them it was built by a Lord ‘What’s his name’(Alfie can’t be bothered to remember) who held a high position in the cavalry.

Tommy takes one look at the giant stone lions flanking the front door and then promptly gets back in the car.

Suffice to say, he’s not in a very good mood on the drive back towards Birmingham, quietly staring out the window and smoking one cigarette after the other. But the weather is nice, so when Alfie sees a fence bordering a large field that could possibly contain a horse or two -which could potentially cheer Tommy up- he pulls over and turns to his sulking companion.

“How about we take a walk, eh, love? We did make the drive out here after all.”

Surprisingly, Tommy isn’t hard to convince.

So they walk, taking a small gravel road that leads between two large meadows. And the sun is shining, a warm breeze rustles through the leaves, and although Tommy continues to quietly chain-smoke, the wrinkle between his eyebrow has smoothed out a bit.

And sure enough, after walking for a bit they even pass a pasture where several horses are grazing. Predictably, Tommy lights up when one of them comes towards the fence, eager at the sight of two people who might just be there to give it a treat. The horse hangs its head over the fence and Tommy scratches it behind the ears. Were it someone else Alfie would suggest to stay far away from a strange horse, but he has yet to meet a single horse -known or unknown- that doesn’t like Tommy. And he’s quite pleased that this horse has decided to turn up.

The horse is disappointed when Tommy leaves (Alfie is the one who initiates it because otherwise they might be stuck here until nightfall). It neighs a complaint before realising that petting time is over, and turning to re-join the rest of the flock a little ways away.

Alfie meanwhile offers his arm to Tommy, who actually takes it as they continue the walk. And this time, Tommy even refrains from lighting another cigarette. It could of course just be that he’s finally run out.

The sun is beginning to set in the horizon, which Alfie only realises when he glances over at Tommy and is struck by how extraordinarily beautiful he is in this light. He’s just about to suggest that they turn back when he sees the sign. Or… calling it a sign is perhaps to use the word too liberally: it’s really just a wooden plank with painted on letters, speered into the ground by the edge of an moss covered stone wall.

‘For sale’ it just says. And then a telephone number. Alfie frowns.

“Is this how they fucking do it in the countryside? Just hang a homemade bloody sign up in the middle of nowhere advertising a sale of… whatever. How is anyone supposed to find it here?”

But Tommy doesn’t appear to be listening. He’s let go of Alfie’s arm and walked up to the gate that is situated a bit further down on the wall, and is now standing there looking at something. Naturally Alfie has to see what is so interesting. And only a few steps along the road later, he sees the house, previously obscured by bushes.

He understands why Tommy is completely entranced by it, because it sure is something to look at. It’s large, but nothing compared to the last two monstrosities, just two stories and then what appears to be a large attic. Vines are growing up along the brick facade, and clinging around the green front door.

Alfie looks at it too. And then opens the gate and walks towards it.

“Alfie! Where are you going?”

“Just want to take a look, love.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“It is now!”

He gives the door three sharp knocks, just for good measure. As expected, there’s no answer. The door is locked however, and once it’s become clear no one is home, he begins inspecting the surroundings. There are no flowerpots or anything on the front steps, but by a barrel full of rainwater, there’s a watering can that somehow looks… suspicious.

Tommy’s steps are coming up the gravel path towards the house. “Alfie, let’s just leave before someone sees us.”

The key is, as expected, under the watering can.

Tommy looks absolutely mortified when he shows it to him

“Alfie, we can’t just go in,” he says with what honest to God sounds like a whine.

“Oh, calm down, love. Very uncharacteristic for you, this behaviour.” Alfie unlocks the door and it swings open easily. “You’re usually quite unbothered by… well everything. Where’s your sense of adventure, eh?”

“I’m just sick of looking at houses,” Tommy grumbles.

Alfie goes inside.

“Hello?” he calls out, lest they scare someone to death. But it quickly becomes apparent that the house is indeed empty.

Tommy is still outside on the steps.

“Aren’t you coming in, love?” Alfie wonders with a grin as he pops his head out the door. Tommy demonstratively lights a cigarette and turns his back against him. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a moment,” he says and kisses his temple just for good measure, before venturing back into the house.

Alife knows that no matter how hard he tries to deny it himself, heisprone to be a sentimental fool -Tommy’s words- so granted he might not be the best judge, but fuck if there’s not just something…about this house. Granted, the golden light of the sunset that cascades in through the large windows is of course showing it from its best side, but still…

The light spills across the hardwood floor and bounces off the walls with their white wallpaper, washing everything in golden tones. It becomes quite clear that no one has have lived there for a while, because a fine coating of dust covers everything. And still the house doesn’t feel eerie. More as if it’s sleeping, as odd as it might be to describe a house that way. The hallway takes him to a large living room with a fireplace, and huge windows that open up into the garden. He completely forgets to inspect the view though because he passed a staircase on his way in there and has to take a look at the upstairs quarters. Only a quick one, he promises himself -Tommy is bound to have become restless by now.

One look at the master bedroom though, and Alfie decides that Tommy has to see this for himself. And if he’s not going to do it willingly, well then Alfie will just have to carry him.

But once he’s back downstairs and out the door again, he finds the front steps empty.

“Tommy?”

“I’m here.” The answer comes immediately, thank fuck (will Alfie ever stop being anxious the moment Tommy is out of his sight?) “In the kitchen.”

Alfie follows the voice to the back of the house, and does indeed find Tommy in a big, bright kitchen with pale green panelling on all the cupboards. He’s stood by an open back door, with coloured glass in its windowpane. The sun is shining through it, casting light in red and blue that dances across his face.

Alfie only then realises he’s been too engulfed by the interiors of the house to look at the garden at the back of it. Because that’s where the door leads, out into a big garden with a lawn, and a giant oak tree.

“There are roses,” Tommy says quietly.

Alfie can only hum. The evening air is thick with the scent of them as it wafts towards him in gentle gusts. For a while they just stand there in silence.

He thinks about it, wonders what the fucking odds are of stumbling on a house like this. Just because you decide to take a walk. Then again, sometimes things do just line up perfectly, don’t they? It does happen, as rare as it might be. You take a walk and find a house, your new business partner turns out to be the love of your life… Things like that.

“Think we better get going. It’s about to get dark.”

Alfie snaps out of his thoughts and blinks. Tommy takes his arm and pulls him back into the kitchen.

Once the door is locked and the key is safe back under the watering can, they begin making their way towards the car.

When they pass the sign, Alfie grabs it and tugs it straight out of the ground. Then continues walking. Tommy looks uncharacteristically appalled.

“Alfie! You can’t just-“

“I’m just holding onto this for… safe keeping.”

Tommy shakes his head, but the lack of any more protests is approval enough for Alfie to carry the sign all the way back to the car and put it in the trunk.

And he’s fairly certain he catches Tommy smiling when he gets into the driver’s seat.

….

Alfie doesn’t call the number right away -granted he shouldn’t be calling at all until he’s hashed the whole thing out with Tommy- and that is yet to be done. The sign is now in the wardrobe (for safe keeping). On top of that, Alfie’s got the number written down in the only place he knows he won’t lose it (on the back of a photograph of Tommy that he keeps in his wallet. Which Tommy doesn’t have to know about)

But he sort of has another question at the forefront of his mind right now. One which has steadily become more and more obtrusive and that’s distracting him from the whole house business… It’s in fact taking up so much of the space in his brain that he finds himself unable to function. Back and forth it goes. Should he ask? Shouldn’t he?

It would be absolutely insane to ask.

But he desperately wants to, is the thing.

And it doesn’t hurt to just… see if he still has that box somewhere in the attic.

He’s been keeping it there for years -unable to throw it out, but it’s too painful of a thing to have where he has to see it all the time. And one day when Tommy is out, he makes the rather uncomfortable climb up to the attic to search. Lo and behold, it seems like whoever is in charge of it all is working in his favour on this matter, because it’s the first fucking thing he finds. He carefully avoids the photos and other keepsakes, unwilling to face all of that right now. And he does find what he’s looking for -at the very bottom, carefully wrapped in thin, sheer paper. As it’s been for twenty-five odd years, ever since his uncle gave it to him.

“This was your mothers, She asked me to keep it safe. I know she wanted you to have it. So now it’s yours to keep safe.”

He’d asked what he was supposed to do with it. Because that’s the kind of questions kids ask. And his uncle told him that, well, at some point -if you’re lucky- you’ll meet someone who you want to give it to. Someone special.

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

And sure enough, he did understand when he got older. But all that really led him to was the realisation that the ‘someone special’ his uncle had been referring to, well, Alfie wasn’t the kind of person who was meant to find one of those. Realised that quite quickly in fact. So what was the point of keeping the bloody thing? Just a reminder of all the things he’d never have, wasn’t it?

Still, couldn’t fucking throw it away, could he? What sort of son would he be if he’d done that? No, that was out of the question. So he’d put it in this box. And now he’s holding it in his hands again and it feels oddly small… Small and delicate and somehow still so incredibly heavy.

He’s sort of forgotten to breathe, so he tries to do that as he folds away paper and looks down at the contents.

Then he has to wipe his eyes because there’s a lot of fucking dust up here and it’s making them fucking water. Has to blink, just to get his vision clear enough to actually seethe thing properly.

It’d need some adjustments of course. But that’s easy enough to accomplish.

It wouldn’t hurt to just… bring it downstairs. Keep it there for a while. It doesn’t mean that he has to ask… It’s not like it’s a huge commitment to just bring it downstairs.

When he descends the ladder on unsteady legs, it’s in his inner pocket.

For safekeeping.

And if he should want to ask, well it’s easier to have it down here isn’t it?

Not that he’s planning to. Because it’d be an absolutely ridiculous thing to do.

But-

Well it can’t fucking hurt to have it close by, is the point.

If he would like to ask…

#alfie x tommy #Tommy Shelby #Alfie Solomons #Peaky Blinders #wtma au #BEHOLD the FLUFF #to be continued...

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