#last time I was there I mentioned most of the ribbons just had a buncha flags on it and not one flag design per ribbon

[sweet-curried-powder]

So I was in the mood to write some more sk8 stuff, and since apparently reki never gets any chocolates on valentine's day, i figured that langa should be a good boyfriend and give chocolates to reki!

this fic was partly inspired by the comics @birdybomb drew for valentine's day and white day! i just discovered them a few days ago, but they're a really good artist, so shoutout to them!

i'm going to be posting this on ao3 shortly, so stay tuned for the ao3 link!

fic below the cut!

*******

“Reki?”

The red-haired boy turned to look at Langa, chewing on the end of his pen, his fingers on the other hand tapping the table to the rhythm of the music that was playing from the radio in the Hasegawa’s kitchen, some sort of bubbly, happy pop song about love by a popular band that was all the rage in Japan at that particular moment, though Langa, having grown up in Canada for most of his life and not used to everyone and everything being in Japanese, didn’t understand the lyrics too well, though he did get the gist of the song.

“Yea, Langa?” Reki tilted his head, his fingers still tapping the table. “Something on your mind?”

“I heard some girls talking in class earlier, and I was wondering.” Langa tugged on the cuff of his jacket, his thumb rubbing over the fabric. “Do you know what a ‘White Day’ is?”

“Huh? You don’t know what White Day is?” Reki’s face scrunched up, clearly confused. “They don’t celebrate it in America?”

“It’s Canada,” the blue haired teen corrected. “And no. Stores usually sell what chocolates are left after Valentine’s during some kind of discount sale. But after that, you don’t really see that kind of thing until next February.”

“Huh,” Reki mumbled, his expression shifting to one that Langa couldn’t quite recognize, but he could still see hints of confusion on his friend’s face. “But anyway. White Day is kind of like the opposite of Valentine’s day here in Japan. Where people who got chocolates last month give chocolates to people who gave them the chocolates before.”

“So...people buy chocolates for the ones who gave them the chocolates on Valentine’s?”

“Uhhh, kinda? My mom says people give homemade chocolates to someone that they’re interested in romantically, while they give storebought chocolates to family or friends.”

Langa nodded in understanding, mumbling some fairly quiet English. “So, who are you giving chocolates to?”

A slightly sad look crossed Reki’s face. “Nobody, really. I’ve never gotten any chocolates from anybody before.”

“You’ve...never gotten chocolates?” Langa felt his heart sink, even more so when he saw Reki shake his head. His friend had never gotten chocolates before? Not from a single person? That didn’t seem fair, especially since he got loads of chocolates back when he was living in Canada. And Reki was so nice...and caring and funny. Not to mention cute, but he wouldn’t tell a soul about the last part (well, he accidentally let that slip on accident one time near Miya, but Langa was able to bribe him to not tell Reki with a new game.)

And with that, a plan quickly formed in the former snowboarder’s mind.

After Reki had gone home a few hours later to help his mom with dinner, Langa waited until his friend was completely out of sight before hopping on his board and zooming to Joe’s restaurant. Sure, he could have asked his mom for help for this. But Joe was a restaurant owner, a chef. And even though his menu was all Italian, he made one hell of a poutine, so surely he knew how to make chocolates.

The restaurant was empty for the most part when Langa entered, with Cherry being the only person there besides the tall, muscular chef himself. Of course, the two of them were bickering once again, like a couple who had been married for ages would. Langa was used to this by now, so he just sat down, placing his skateboard on the floor while patiently waiting for the two to settle their argument, even if it was momentarily.

It took about ten minutes or so before the argument started to simmer down, and Joe finally noticed the blue haired boy. “Oi- how long have you been here?”

“Ten minutes. Was I interrupting something?”

“Nothing important.” Joe ran a hand through his hair, a dark shade of green that went down to his neck, just a few inches longer than Langa’s, and looked rather messy. “Where’s Reki?”

“He went home. He had to help his mom.” Langa played with his hands as he spoke, a habit of his. “I came to ask a favor, if that’s okay.”

“Hit me.”

“Do you know how to make chocolates?”

“Chocolates?” Joe seemed a bit puzzled. “Yeah, sure I do. Made them for a lot of girls when I was your age. How come?”

“...can you teach me to make them? Please?” A slight blush of embarrassment crossed Langa’s cheeks. “They’re for White Day.”

“Can’t you ask your mother to help?” Cherry tilted his head, adjusting his glasses. “I’m sure she’d do a much better job at making them than this gorilla here.” That particular comment got the calligrapher a shout of outrage from Joe.

“Reki told me he’d never gotten chocolates before,” Langa explained. “I felt bad. And I really loved the poutine you made me a few days ago, and I wanted to make Reki’s chocolates super special.”

“You’re telling me the kid hasn’t gotten any chocolates before? That’s a buncha shit!” Joe rolled his sleeves up, opening the doors to the kitchen. “C’mon in. I’ll show you how to make chocolates so good, your grandma will wanna cry!”

“The lifespan of an average gorilla is thirty-five to forty years.”

“You seriously got your robot in on this?!”

“How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Carla, not robot!”

Langa was sweating bullets the next day, waiting for Reki to show up at their usual meeting spot. After what seemed like a torturous night that seemed to last several years, it was finally White Day. And time to give Reki his chocolates. The first chocolates he’d receive.

Langa couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this nervous. Maybe the first time he started skateboarding, but he couldn’t remember that. He tugged on a bunch of his snowy hair, grinding his teeth and waiting for Reki to show up.

“Langa!”

Reki was running up to him, and Langa relaxed with a sigh and a smile. He wasn’t really paying attention to what Reki was saying, not because he didn’t want to, but because, well…

He reached into his bag, pulling out the package, wrapped in red paper and tied with a fancy ribbon. Reki tilted his head, before looking shocked when Langa handed the package to him.

“Happy white day,” Langa said quietly, smiling softly at his friend. “Joe helped me make them. I hope you like it.”

“...these are for me?” Reki’s voice was soft, almost inaudible, even. Tears of joy brimmed at the corners of his eyes, and from the expression on his face, you would have thought that Langa had just proposed to him. “Langa, I… t-thank you.”

Reki slowly unwrapped the package, taking out one of the chocolates. It was skateboard shaped, and he could see some other chocolates looked like the symbols on his own board. They weren’t perfect, but he knew Langa had worked extremely hard on it, and in his mind, it made it extremely special.

“..I love it, Langa. Thank you so much.”

Langa smiled wider, feeling his heart swell. “You’re welcome Reki.”

#sugar's writing #sk8 the infinity #reki kyan #langa hasegawa #miya chinen #joe sk8 the infinity #cherry blossom #carla #...does she have a tag? #FUCK IT #renga #kyagawa #please enjoy the gays

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Burned Part 3

A/N I need Peaky Blinders writers to follow. So let me know if you write any of the characters

Summary:  Alfie Solomons is in need of a secretary. Tommy Shelby mentions a young woman in need of employment. From there, they step into a dangerous dance together

Chapter Summary: Alfie and Louise attend the art gala so he can get some work settled. 

Warnings: Swearing, threats, brief racism

           The next night, Louise was brought a box tied up in ribbon. Alfie had sent her home a bit early so she could bathe and make sure the dress fit.

           Louis thanked Ollie for delivering the box and took it to her room. She set it on her bed and slid the top off. Folded under a bit of tissue paper was a royal blue evening gown.

           “Mercy…” She lifted the garment up delicately to take the rest of its appearance. The front was intricately beaded, the shiny facets catching the lamplight and making the dress glimmer. It was floor length, with a long row of buttons in the back traveling from the top all the way to where the dress’s skirt flared out behind. The beaded bodice formed a sweetheart neckline, ready to hug the waist.

           Louise stared at the gown, dumbfounded for a bit. Despite growing up in a well off home, she hadn’t seen anything quite so stunning. Her father insisted she wear modest dresses when attending events to keep his only child and precious daughter safe from the wandering eyes of boyish elite males. And of course, when she married her husband, she had no use for nice dresses.

           But this dress, royalty could’ve worn it or the stunning fashion models in Paris. It seemed to be the right size, but she wasn’t sure she’d fit the mold of a woman who would wear such a garment. But it was too late to get another dress and none of the clothes she had would be appropriate for the event.

           She set the dress on her bed and glanced back at the box.

           A set of gloves sat waiting for her among the tissue paper. The satin fabric reminded her of her mother. She and Louise’s father would regularly attend parties and galas. But they never neglected her. She could almost smell her mother’s perfume, remembering how she’d touch her daughter’s cheeks with the silky gloves while kissing her goodnight.

           No one could be more beautiful than her mother.

           Louise slipped the dress on and realized there was a problem. She reached behind her and tried to do up as many buttons as she could. But the twisting tugged painfully at her stitches and made the feat impossible. She huffed in defeat and weighed her options. She could wear a shawl to cover up the undone buttons but the fabric folded a little because it wasn’t fitting the way it was meant to. The second option and the most daunting was to ask Alfie to finish the buttons. Her boss of just over a week.

           There wasn’t much time to decide as the clock on the wall told her Alfie would be arriving soon.

           “It’s only a few buttons…” She whispered under her breath and hurried downstairs.

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

           Around seven, the car pulled up to her apartment.

           Alfie had gotten out of the car to greet her properly. He appeared more clean-cut than usual but still onto his air of power. He wore a well-fitted tuxedo with his heavy black coat to keep him warm in the cold London night. His beard was trimmed and he had his familiar black hat. He stood on the sidewalk; his feet set wide apart while resting his hands on top of his cane.

           “Fucking hell.” Despite his formal wear, Alfie didn’t change his vernacular. Expensive fabric couldn’t change that. “Thought you’d look lovely in that color. Nice to see I was right, usually am.”

           Louise smiled and stood in the doorway. “Could I just ask for a favor?”

           “Yeah, what’s that then?” He walked over to the steps.

           “Just fasten the last buttons in the back.” She turned to show him. She gathered her curls away from her neck so he could help.

           Alfie felt a lump stick in his throat. He’d noticed the change in him over the week of having Louise around. He thought it would be easier to ignore it but that wasn’t the case. It was hard enough just being around her in her work skirts. Seeing her dressed up like London’s aristocracy was killing him.

           He stepped up the front steps. It was as if she was intentionally trying to drive him mad. The blue fabric parted showing him just enough of her pale skin to make him tense up. A few freckles marked down her spine and for a brief moment, he could imagine kissing each one of them.

           Alfie Solomons was not a hopeless romantic. He wasn’t weak and he wasn’t soft. There was no way he was going to fawn over this woman simply because she was around frequently. He had to mentally kick himself in the ass and steady his hands to button her dress up. It was inappropriate to think of his secretary in such a way. Maybe she was just a test from God.

           “There we are.” Alfie stepped back when he was finished.

           “Thank you.” She slipped on her coat and turned around. The dress trailed a bit behind her but was bunched up in the front so she could walk properly. “It is beautiful, I really love it.”

           “Yeah? Well, you keep it then.”

           Louise followed him down the stairs and over to the car. “Oh, Alfie, I couldn’t.” She took his hand held out to help her get in.

           “I ain’t gonna wear it, so who else would I give it to?” He climbed in behind her. He didn’t want to see any other woman in that dress. As far as he was concerned, the thing was made to be worn by her. He was just glad he’d seen her in it.

           Louise didn’t have anything to say to that. So she just folded her hands over her lap. “That is generous, thank you.”

           All the muscles in his face worked overtime to keep his eyes ahead instead of staring at her. “Right, let’s go make some wealthy friends, yeah?”

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

           The art gallery was in the high-end part of London; somewhere Louise hadn’t been in quite a while. She glanced out the car window to watch socialites and artists walking down the street. The city was already lit up as the sun finished setting. The air held electricity that could pump one’s blood full of adrenaline.

           A pressure settled on her shoulder and Louise could sense Alfie watching her. She glanced over and found out she was right.

           Realizing he’d been caught staring, he cleared his throat and looked straight ahead. “Do like that color.” He said in a gruff but hesitant tone. There was a hint of shyness to his demeanor. “Sorta like sapphires, innit?”

           “Have you purposefully dressed me up like a gemstone, Mr. Solomons?” Louise teased light-heartedly.

           It was the first time she made him smile and the first time she heard a genuine laugh from him. A deep chuckle from his chest. He was beautiful. And it was strange to think so. Louise had grown up dreaming she would marry a tall, clean-shaven man who was polite and gentle. Her boss didn’t exactly check off those boxes. But there was something about him that was endearing to her despite seeing his temper.

           “Well, figure jewels n’ money is all these sorts know.” He shrugged. “They speak the language, yeah?”

           “And what do you know? What language do you speak?”

           “Me?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, I know what they talk ‘bout, right? I can talk their language of wealth. But me, right, I get that there’s another world outside all that. World ain’t as simple and carefree as this lot thinks.” The car stopped in front of the gallery. A beautifully lavish building with marble stairs leading to the front door. “Sacrifices need to be made.” He got out of the car and lent a hand to Louise.

           “There are good things in the world though.” She disagreed civilly, the satin fabric of her elbow-length gloves brushing against his calloused palm.

           Alfie offered his arm to escort her up the stone steps. “Right, jewels n’ shit, that’s what I said.”

           She laughed and took his arm, gathering up the trail of her skirt so no one stepped on the delicate fabric. “Not stuff you can buy.” Alfie walked slowly beside her, allowing her time to walk up the stairs in her heels. “Natural things, beauty, and relationships. Friends and family. I mean, not everything is bad or needs to be bought.”

           He shook his head and let his cane fall heavily on each step. “Think you’ve been reading too many books, love.” Attendants of the gala helped take their coats at the door. Alfie took in Louise’s appearance in the dress again without her heavy coat. The bodice fit perfectly and the satin sleeves set deeply against her fair arms. She was a sight to be seen with luxurious chocolate curls pinned up. And she was on his arm, not another man’s.

           “That’s all a buncha horseshit, right?” He felt a little too rough and burly to be next to such a petite beauty. But she stuck close to him, her arm clutching his. It made him feel giddy and dizzy with guilt all at the same time. “None of that’s real, I mean fucking look at London. S’nothing but smoke and coal and misery.”

           Louise followed him into the crowd of people mingling, dancing, and talking about the art. “You don’t think love is real?” She asked over the classical music played by a string quartet. It was the amount of class that she had been so accustomed to before. Now she was back in the midst of it but in a very different position than before.

           “I think it’s a very foolish thing.”

           “You’ve never been in love? Ever?”

           Alfie found a small table where it was a bit quieter and they could speak properly. “Well, there was this one.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the white tablecloth. “Fucking gorgeous and fucking expensive. Couldn’t tell you how many sapphires were on that necklace. Could’ve bought meself a nice country home with that thing.”

           Louise sighed and gave him a look. “With a person, Alfie, not a piece of jewelry. Gems are just cold rocks.”

           He cracked a smile but shook his head. He dragged his fingers over his beard. “Nah, too much work to be done. Love takes time.”

           “Hm…” Louise surveyed the event, the lavish dresses, and elegant suits. Long sweeping gowns brushed over the shining floor. Jewels glinted in the lights. Alcohol ran like water, keeping them satiated. Cigarette smoke hung above the crowd like a hazy cloud. The art pieces were all cradled in gold gilded frames, carefully aimed lights highlighting them for potential buyers. Everything about the surroundings screamed money. It brought Louise no comfort.

           “What ‘bout you then?” Alfie watched her eyes study some of the art on the wall closest to them. Her mind was clearly elsewhere.

           “What about me?”

           “Think you’ve ever been in love?” He asked bluntly.        

           She chewed on her lip and gave a one-shouldered shrug. The beads on the dress bodice clicked together under her movements. “I thought I was once. But I don’t think you can love someone who took everything from you.”

           Alfie thought about his call to Tommy. Soon. He would right the wrongs soon. He just needed to be patient.

           “Oh, see there?” He leaned forward and pointed to a young gentleman with a sash across his tuxedo. The red silk was enough of an indication that he was important. A step above everyone else there.

           “Yes?”

           “That’s why we’re here.” He stood up and offered a hand to her. “French guy, yeah?”

           “Oh yes,” Louise remembered the reason for her invitation to the event. Certainly, Alfie didn’t want to take his secretary out to an art gallery for fun.

           The gangster commanded the crowd as he walked. His wide shoulders and strong demeanor made people in his way move without a second thought. Louise wasn’t sure if the art lovers knew who Alfie was or whether his intimidating appearance was enough to compel them to move.

           The French man glanced up and recognized him. A nervous twist tugged at the corner of his mouth.

           “Hope I’m not interrupting.” Alfie’s voice boomed over the music, a false sense of friendliness and familiarity shielding his toe.

           The two other men also appeared familiar with the gangster. “Mr. Solomons, this isn’t usually your setting.” An elderly man holding a glass of scotch spoke. He was calmer than the other two men. He spoke candidly. “And I see you’ve found yourself a beautiful woman, are you married?”

           “Oh, no, I’m his secretary.” Louise touched Alfie’s arm.

           “Ah, apologies. You two are so smartly dressed together, I assumed you were out to celebrate.”

           “S’alright.” Alfie cleared his throat. He could feel Louise’s hand and felt a strange bit of let down. The woman on his arm was only there because he paid her. But there was business to attend to, he couldn’t feel sorry for himself that he was undeserving of such a gentle woman.

           “Mr. Solomons, I think you’ve met the Viscount before.”

           “Yeah, I have. Louise, this is Jean. Viscount or whatever the fuck he wants to call himself.” He waved a dismissive hand to the aristocrat. His gold rings glinted in the light. Perhaps the man wasn’t a step above everyone in the room. Perhaps it was an illusion.

           “Should I translate for you, sir?” The other unnamed man beside the Viscount asked.

           “I’ve got me own translator here, mate, so he can’t talk shit right in front of me face. I know he’s fond of doing that.” Alfie responded roughly and glanced at his secretary. “Louise is more than capable.”

           “Oh uh,” She smoothed her hands over the front of her dress. “how do you do? My name is Louise; I’m Mr. Solomon’s secretary. He asked me to translate for you.”

           “Louise, very nice to meet you, mademoiselle.” Jean took her hand to kiss her knuckles. She smiled but her boss looked ready to boil over in the middle of the gallery. “How did such a brute come to acquire such a beauty?” He nodded to Alfie, obviously feeling protected by the language barrier.

           Alfie noticed the gesture and his eye twitched. “What? What’d he say?” He urgently asked.

           “Uh…” Louise swallowed. She wouldn’t lie to him, but she also didn’t want to see his reaction to the remark. It was neither the time nor place for one of his explosive tirades. But she underestimated his restraint.

           “He asked how you came to have me?” She gave him the abridged version hoping that would be sufficient enough.

           “Right, enough with the games, yeah?” Alfie slammed his cane down and straightened up. “That woman right there, yeah, see her? She ain’t anyone’s property and I didn’t get all gussied up to talk about her, did I? You fucking know why I’m here.” He snarled. His voice built up like thunder in the distance but kept the interaction in a small sphere. The rest of the gallery either chose not to notice and get involved or was too drunk to care.

           Louise did her best to translate, packaging up his words and delivering them to the viscount. She didn’t know what he was leading up to. Alcohol couldn’t be a clean business but she didn’t think it would get this heated. But she was too busy trying to focus on the words that she couldn’t process it all. When she finished, Jean’s face had paled.

           “Yeah…don't need a translator now, can see it in those eyes of yours.” Alfie hissed, his eyes refusing move, making Jean more uncomfortable. “You know why I’m here. You fucking lying, cheating, thieving git. I ain’t going another day without your debts paid.” He jabbed two fingers at his chest. “You got all that?” He asked his secretary without looking at her.

           Louise nodded and relayed the less than tasteful response. It sounded strange coming from her in a different language, and the language of love no less.

           The Frenchman looked trapped but unwilling to bend to the gangster’s will. “Tell Mr. Solomons I don’t have his money. I’m not giving that Jew anything.”

           It hit a nerve for her. The arrogance and venom were clear in his voice. So she would let her boss know everything. “He says he’s not paying you. He also spoke unkindly of your ethnicity.” Louise reported with a harsh glare toward the viscount.

           “Good lass.” Alfie praised. He almost seemed glad to have a reason to go off on the man. A glint of hellfire crossed his eyes as he took a closer step toward Jean. “Tell his highness that if I don’t get me fucking money by midnight tonight, he’s going to wake up in bits at the bottom of the Thames. And if anyone listening wants to go whinging to the police like a bunch of fucking boys, they will meet the same fate. Right? Good?” He forcefully clapped a hand over Jean’s shoulder as Louise translated. His grip tightened when he saw the fear dilate in the man’s eyes.

           “He said he understands.” She told him after he gave a quiet and complacent reply.

           “Good!” Alfie patted the man’s shoulder again. “Nice to have a night to meself, not have to do much dirty business, eh?” He said in a faux cheery voice. “Louise,” He let her take his arm again, escorting her away from the men and towards one of the walls lined with art.

           Questions stormed in Louise’s head. Was Alfie serious about his threats? What did he really do to have French aristocrats owing him money? But the gala didn’t seem like the right place to ask, even if he thought it was the perfect place to threaten men. She wasn’t even sure that Alfie would answer her honestly. Of course, she thought she deserved an explanation because he’d set her as the middle of the exchange.

           “Which on you like best. What you think?” He gestured toward the art.

           “Oh, uh…” She took a few glances pushing away the shock of what she had just experienced. The art seemed to blur together under her strained confusion. But eventually, she found one that stood out. “I suppose that Monet is lovely.” She pointed to one. “I’ve always adored his style.”

           “Right, yeah, s’pose it looks nice.” He nodded. “You want it?”

           She looked up at him in shock, not sure if she had heard him correctly. “What?”

           “For your apartment? I’ll buy it for you. ‘M sure you’ve got somewhere to put it, yeah?”

           “Alfie,” Louise was taken aback by how casually he offered. “I’m sure it’s far too expensive.”

           “Yeah, but you’ve done good tonight, right, so figure you deserve a gift of sorts.” He shrugged and

           “Alfie…”

           “You’ve proven loyalty to me, right?” He held her gaze gently, tilting his head down slightly. His tone was so different from just a few minutes before. He spoke with curated compassion. It reminded Louise that she was fairly lucky to be on his good side. Valuable art wasn’t the greatest perk of the job. “I told you, if you were useful I’d compensate you.” He waved over one of the dealers.

           “Oh, Alfie, no…” Louise grabbed his arm, her cheeks turning pink.

           “Be getting that one, the Monet.” He said to the woman.

           “Of course, sir.”

           Louise’s lips parted in shock. “I-thank you.” She said softly.

           His blue eyes glanced back at her and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. The man hadn’t felt much responsibility for anyone before. He didn’t know what it was like to be a father or husband. But this woman, this little dove deserved everything. He could see that now. She’d been raised in wealth and had fallen from grace because of unknown circumstances.

           “Do you dance?” She asked.

           “Ha, no…I don’t. My fucking hip, pain in the arse it is.” He chuckled. But it was a fib. Of course, he could handle beating a man’s skull in, he could dance a bit. It was just he wasn’t any good. Certainly a young, born and bred socialite woman like herself could dance and he didn’t want to embarrass her.

           “Oh, of course, I’m sorry.”

           “Don’t apologize, love. Would you…” He cleared his throat as the words stuck in his throat. His hands leaned into his cane, tilting forward on the balls of his feet for a moment in discomfort. “Em, if you want to go and socialize, that’s alright.”

           Louise shook her head and didn’t even entertain the idea. “I don’t want to dance with anyone really.” She shrugged and fixed a piece of stray hair that had escaped the pins in her curls.

           Alfie felt a bit of pride. She’d asked him to dance but wasn’t interested in anyone else. “Right,” He tilted his chin down a bit. “Want to call it a night then?”

           “I do have to wake up early tomorrow.” Louise brought her hand to his arm as it was beginning to rub off on her. The feeling of the pressed fabric and the sense of protection being led by the imposing man.

           “Yeah? You don’t think your boss will be forgiving if you’re a bit late?” He teased and began to lead her back to the front to collect their coats. Seeing the pink in her cheeks and her long eyelashes fluttering slightly as she laughed was like taking a sharp inhale of some drug. Alfie hadn’t known what it was like to feel so intoxicated by a person. It was as if she could bring him to his knees, folding over like a piece of paper. No one could do that. But there was a possibility Louise would defy the odds.

           Perhaps he’d inhaled too much cigarette smoke.

           The attendant returned with their coats and Alfie helped Louise into hers. She looked up at him, her hazel eyes filled to the brim with questions.

           Right…he had just threatened to kill a man right in front of her. He sighed heavily and realized he needed to let her further into the abyss.

           “S’pose you’ll want to know what that as all about in there.” Alfie let out a heavy exhale, his wide shoulders falling, his arm brushing up against hers.

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

           The car began the drive back to Camden Town. Louise kept her eyes down as she delicately slid off the satin gloves. “You don’t have to explain anything. I understand the confidentiality agreement we discussed on my first day.” She murmured. The young woman thought about the painting and wondered if it was an incentive to keep quiet.          

           “See, thing is, I trust you.” He replied. “People ‘round me, you can see it their fucking eyes, yeah? One second of weakness and they’ll go in for the kill.”

           “Why do you trust me?” Louise dared to lift her head and meet his eyes.

           “I ain’t gonna give you the fucking keys to my business, yeah, but it’s sorta in your job description, innit? You know the schedule and bits n’ bobs of dealings. Wouldn’t involve you in anything too dangerous though, that’s not where you’re meant to be.”

           “I suppose that’s where I’m confused.” She pursed her lips. “You’re a…baker.” She couldn’t make the distinction between rum and bread, even in private. Alfie was very strict about that.

           “Yeah.”

           “What does a baker from Camden have to do with a French viscount?”

           His lips twitched with a hint of smile hidden under his mustache. “Good men, they run their businesses as God intended, right?”

           She nodded.

           “But I never said I was a good man, did I?” He gave her a side-eyed glance, mischief sparkling in his ocean colored eyes.

           The comment drew breath right out of her lungs. The devious look on his face sparked something fierce inside of her. “I didn’t…it’s hard to define a good man.” Her voice came out breathlessly and she tried not to seem as flustered as she felt.

           “Good men don’t kill.”

           Louise pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. It took her a few beats of silence to find the words or the precise emotion forming in her stomach. She wasn’t afraid so much as she was caught off guard. She had seen his anger and perhaps it should’ve been clear enough that the man was capable of murder. Maybe it was the naïve notion of seeing the good in others.

           “Have you killed someone?” She asked quietly.

           He let out a low chuckle and faced forward again. He didn’t want to frighten her but it was better to let her know now rather than a few months later. “The Bible, yeah, it’s fucking gruesome, innit? But our prophet, Moses, brought down the Commandments and informed us that God don’t look kindly on murderers.”

           Louise twisted her skirt in her hands. “Right…”

           “But God is forgiving, that right? You do what you have to do and at the end of the day, I can ask for forgiveness.” He expertly skirted around her question.

           “I-I suppose.”

           He didn’t look at her as the car rumbled down the road. “You gonna look at me different now?”

           “Alfie…”

           “S’alright if you do.” He stretched out his arm to adjust the cuff of his shirt. “Tend not to mind what people think of me.”

           “I can’t say I’ve killed anyone but I’ve had to ask God for forgiveness. Who am I to look down on you?” Louise tentatively reached out and touched his knee.

           He looked down. Her slender hand resting there naturally, adding further honesty.

           “It’s my decision of who I create ties with.” She continued in a firm tone. “I left my husband because of his nature and actions. But Alfie, you’ve been very kind to me. I trust you as well, even if it is against my better judgment.” The corner of her lips turned up a bit in a sympathetic smile.

           Alfie knew words were cheap so he didn’t go on rambling about how he wouldn’t hurt. It would be more significant to show her.

Masterpost

My Masterlist

#alfie solomons #Alfie Solomons x OFC #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fic #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy x ofc #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy characters #tom hardy fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc