Summary: With the weight of unspoken truth dragging him down and after gaining some encouragement from an unlikely source, Alfie finally tells Annie he’s in love with her.
Loosely inspired by: “What’s worse, telling you my feelings or to die without revealing that you crawled inside my head and set a fire there instead? Letting all my insecurity devour me with certainty.” - Halsey, Ya'aburnee
Word count: 5,000
A/N: My first in a series of misc. pieces about these QTs! Basically a 3-chapter one shot but I haven’t written on here in literally years so it’s how we rollin’.
–
Alfie Solomons was not a man who held his tongue, and each syllable he spoke was accented with deliberate cause. He liked that his rivals expected more out of him from just violence, that any battle with him would inevitably be a battle of wits. He relished the way his words shifted the very air in the room, wielding just as much, if not, more, power than his threat of his bullets and fists.
Bearing this in mind, it surprised him greatly, then, when he found he couldn’t manage to choke out three specific, simple words to Annie. Any time he came close to it, fear clawed at his guts, and he held back, cursing at himself in frustration every time.
“A spineless fuckin’ cunt you are, mate. How many men have you cut, killed, murdered, tortured, fuckin’ butchered, yeah? And yet, here you are, afraid that the shriveled remains of your blackened heart will break if you tell this woman the truth. Because how the fuck could she ever love someone like you, back, hm?”
The war inside him raged on for months and months, and now, with Callum gone, he found he was yelling at himself more and more to tell Annie every day—but still didn’t do it. But the longer he kept his mouth shut, the worse he felt, an increasingly unbearable weight pressing against his rib cage.
So, Alfie Solomons did what any lovesick Jewish boy at the end of his rope would do: he decided to talk to his mother.
Alfie sighed and settled himself in the cozy armchair in the corner of his study, lighting his pipe. He inhaled and turned his attention to the side table, looking out at a small black and white portrait nestled right beside his Tanakh.
“Привет, мама. Desperately need some help, I do.”
Alfie fiddled with his pipe as he leaned his head back on the chair, blue eyes still intently fixed on the picture of his deceased mom. “I bet you and your angel friends have been havin’ a right fuckin’ laugh, watchin’ me agonize over this Irish Gypsy woman. Man plans and God laughs, innit?”
In the flickering light of his pipe, he swears the portrait of his mother smiles at him. The corner of his mouth turned and he sat for a moment, lost in his thoughts and the smoke. When he spoke again, he was quieter, more subdued – but his sincerity was just as pronounced.
“But I know it’s real and that’s what matters, yeah. And I know that’s what you’d be telling me, to listen to this thing in my chest here.”
Alfie paused, rubbing his temple with his free hand.
“That bein’ said, I am still properly conflicted on if tellin’ her is the right thing. If I do and she doesn’t feel the same, which is most likely, on account of me bein’ me, yeah it’ll all go to shit. I won’t ever see her or that beautiful fuckin’ face anymore, hear that laugh. Get to make her laugh.“
His voice went even quieter, speaking more to himself in earnest. "But there’re times I see her and she just gives me thislook, and I can’t fuckin’ read it but I can feel it, something there between me and her. And I keep comin’ back for it. If there’s even a chance …”
His brow furrowed, ring-clad fingers roaming through his beard.
“Look, I know I am destined to glide right to the front of the queue for the fiery pit of the damned, but I’m sure you’ve got some powerful holy mates up there. Ones who would let ya send some kind of sign down to your kid, tellin’ me what I should do about Annie.”
He gestured vaguely, and the sound of his bracelets clinking together echoed around the vast room.
“Things of love and goodness and all that are more your domain than mine, yeah, so I am asking you to take the reins here.”
He sat in silence for a few moments, a slight smile on his face as he nodded toward the picture.
“I think you and her would’ve got on well, yeah. Right. Спасибо, мама.”
Alfie extinguished the pipe, groaning slightly as he stretched up and walked down the hall to his bedroom. It’s quiet except for Cyril’s snores in the corner. He laid down with his hands under his head and stared at the ceiling, trying not to think about how he’d feel if Annie was next to him.
–
After a night of uneasy sleep, Alfie was in no mood for anyone’s shit at work. Ollie immediately sensed it and gave him a wide berth, placing a solid five feet of distance between them as he gently dropped some papers on Alfie’s desk–something to do with the latest of Tommy’s schemes.
Alfie grunted and went to wave him away, but stopped when Ollie stammered out:
"And there’s a woman here to see you, Mr. Solomons. It’s not Annie.”
Alfie dragged his hands down his face, resisting the urge to smack the younger man.
“I fuckin’ knew that, didn’t I, ya silly boy, since you would’ve otherwise just told me An was here.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to fuckin’ apologize, mate, just try to use even a fraction of the brain ya got for a change.”
Ollie stood frozen until Alfie finally lost patience and smacked his hands on the desk, causing Ollie to jump.
“Well, go on then, send the mysterious lady in!”
Ollie nodded and scurried out the door as Alfie sighed, muttering under his breath as he took a sip of the Earl Grey on his desk.
“Fuckin too much to ask for a shred of intelligence these days, innit.”
He heard the sounds of heels clicking down the hall and his attention shifted, curiosity stirring inside him. And then he saw Annie’s older sister come through the door, and his curiosity was quickly replaced with dread.
“Fuckin’ hell, what does this ghastly woman want?”
Mutual dislike read plainly on both their faces, but Alfie adopted a cheerful tone anyways, raising his tea cup in a mock salute.
"Mags! You must be lost, sweetheart, payin’ us savages on this side of town a visit, eh?”
Mags shook her head, her cherry-red lips in a thin line as she surveyed the cluttered room with distaste.
“I’m not lost, Alfie.”
Alfie leaned back in his chair, bouncing slightly as he kicked his feet up on the desk.
“Hm. Well good, that’s good. Then I don’t feel bad tellin’ ya that I am, despite your many comments around the subject, a businessman, Mags. And a fuckin’ busy one at that. With very important things to do.”
To drive home his point, he grabbed the stack of papers off his desk and dropped them back down. He grinned as Mags clenched her jaw, clearly doing her best to hold back some smart remark.
“So tell us why you’re here or kindly get out of me office, yeah?”
Mags turned her gaze on him and when she spoke, she took the normally unflappable King of Camden Town by surprise:
"I need to talk to you about Annie.”
Alfie dropped his feet off the desk as his stomach dropped. His cocky demeanor was gone, immediately replaced with anxiety.
“What’s wrong, is she alright?”
Something in Mags’ cold glare lessened, and she sat down as Alfie stared back, unnerved.
“She’s fine,” she replied calmly. She fished around her purse and pulled out a cigarette container and match, offering the case toward Alfie, who shook his head. If Annie was alright, then what in the whole wide world of fuck was Mags here to talk about?
“Suit yourself.” Mags lit up, taking a grateful drag between her manicured nails. She sighed, pointing the cigarette toward him.
“I’m here because someone apparently needs to talk some sense into you. So,” she paused, exhaling a deliberate stream of smoke toward his face and grinning as his fist closed on reflex.
“Play nice, mate. She’s holdin’ the cards right now.”
Alfie grabbed his tea, doing his best to appear disinterested, even though he was dying to know what she wanted to say about Annie.
“I would like to know when you are planning to tell my sister that you’re in love with her.”
Alfie choked, his careful composure gone in an instant.
"Fuckin. Hell. The sign. MUM SENT A FUCKIN’ SIGN.”
He continued to cough as he reached for his handkerchief, very aware of Mags’ eyes trained on him. He took a deep breath, rearranging his features into one of (mostly) polite confusion.
“You what?”
Mags rolled her eyes.
“My sister. Annie.” She held up her hand. “About yay high, lovely green eyes, runs a little cafe across town.” She stared at Alfie and repeated, “When are you going to tell her you are in love with her?”
Alfie leaned back and interlaced his ringed fingers, his brain whirring. Had he really been that obvious?
“You are always hangin’ round Annie like a lost dog, mate, someone was bound to notice.”
Still, Mags loathed him. Had made that perfectly clear on any occasion they’d run into each other at Annie’s cafe. And while he could normally decipher anyone’s motives, he couldn’t piece together why the hell she’d be asking. So, he took his best guess.
“You tryin’ to prevent that from happenin,’ Mags?“
“On the contrary, Alfie.”
For the second time that day, Alfie was dumbfounded. It must’ve read clearly on his face, too, because Mags laughed.
"Surprised? That makes two of us.” She took another puff of her cigarette before ashing it in the tray on his desk.
“Look, I may not like you, Alfie, but I love my sister.” She leaned forward slightly, and Alfie was further shocked to see the ghost of a smile on her normally serious countenance.
“I’ve seen the way you look at Annie, how you just melt around her. Like she’s your own little piece of heaven.” She paused, seemingly waiting for an objection, and continuing when Alfie didn’t raise one, reeling internally from this unforeseen turn of events.
“I know you’d do anything to take care of her and make her happy. And she didn’t deserve to bury her husband, what she deserves is to be with a man who loves her just as much as Cal did. And as much at it physically pains me to say this, Alfie, I know that’s you.”
Her smile grew more pronounced as Alfie just sat there, rendered speechless for one of the few times in his life.
“My guess is that you didn’t want to tell her while she was married, and I have to give it to you, that was surprisingly honorable.”
Mag’s tone turns more businesslike, more like the Mags he’s come to expect.
“But Cal’s been gone for nearly 4 months now, and all the Irish mothers have started sending in their young, handsome sons now that she took her ring off. If you want to be with her, it’s now or never.”
She shook her finger toward him. “And don’t even try denying it, her entire kitchen has a betting pool going on about when you’ll finally ask her out.”
Well, she had him. Alfie drummed his fingers on the desk, weighing over his options. And he decided his best one was honesty.
“You don’t hear me contradicting you, do ya?” Alfie ran his hands through his hair. “But Mags, it is fuckin’ fanciful that she’d want to be with a bastard like me, innit. You and I both know that An is so far out of my realm, she should be,” he waved his hands toward the door, “in fuckin’ Wales, right.”
“True.”
Alfie threw his hands up.
“So what the fuck are you doin’ here tellin’ me to go after her?”
Mags shook her head, looking at him with something akin to pity.
“You really are daft. Do you think I’d be here in this shithole if she didn’t feel the same way about you that you feel about her?”
“Fuckkkkkkkkkin hell.”
If Alfie’s pulse wasn’t racing before, it sure was now. He wouldn’t put it past Mags to lie about this, but the way she spoke before … Alfie was good at reading people, and he knew she was sincere. But he needed more.
"Well, every man, he craves certainty, Mags, yeah,” he said slowly, hoping she’d give him enough to stop the doubts that had assailed him for months.
"Well, I am certain that my sister is in love with you.” Her tone softened again. “Tell her how you feel, and she’s yours.”
It would have to do. Alfie nodded, a grin breaking out across his face.
"You are actually not tryin to completely fuck me on this? Genuinely.”
Mags sighed.
“No, Alfie, I am not trying to fuck you on this. I’m looking out for my sister and her happiness.” She shrugged. “Even if it doesn’t make sense to me.”
“Huh. Well then, I will end this little chat of ours to pick up the pieces of brain that just blew out the back of me skull.” Alfie mimed his head exploding as Mags rolled her eyes.
"Always a pleasure.” She stood up, snapping her bag shut and shifting it onto her shoulder. “Now, you go on over there today so I can stop seeing you two dancing around your emotions like bloody teenagers. And don’t breathe a WORD of this interaction to her. She doesn’t need to know I had to intervene to get you to grow some balls.”
She turned to leave and was almost out the door when Alfie called her.
“Mags.”
She turned around and he raised his cup to her again, this time with sincerity.
“Thank you.”
She smiled back.
“Good luck, Alfie.”
He waited until he heard the echo of her heels fade before he stood up, pacing. He clapped the heels of his hands together, his bracelets jingling.
“Now or fuckin’ never, innit?”
He took a long exhale, chuckling to himself as he looked up at the ceiling.
"Always were direct, weren’t ya, mum?”
He grabbed his coat and hat from the corner and tipped it on before roaring out the door:
“OLLIE!”
He heard a door slam open and hurried footsteps along the corridor, Ollie peeking his head into the office like he was expecting a grenade to be tossed back at him.
“What do you need?”
“Relax, son,” Alfie clapped him on the shoulder, smiling at Ollie’s look of bemusement. “We’re just goin’ to Annie’s.”
And with that, he took another deep breath and the pair of them exited his office.
–
Alfie knew Annie would be closing up soon, which he was counting on to get some uninterrupted time to talk to her. It could be difficult to get her full concentration sometimes — she was always moving, always chatting, always daydreaming about something. And while he normally loved watching her whirl around, today, he couldn’t risk her missing a word he said.
Fortunately, the place was empty when he came in, except for Lily cleaning off tables.
She looked up as the doorbell jingled and smiled, continuing to wipe the tables down.
“She’s in the back.”
“Thanks, Lil.”
Heart pounding in his chest, he walked the familiar path back to the kitchen, letting his fingers hover for a moment on the swinging wooden door before he walked through.
And there she was. Her back was to him but he could picture the look of concentration on her face, biting the corner of her lip just slightly as she piped neat lines of frosting on a tray of pastries in front of her. As usual, her sleeves were rolled up, her dark hair twisted in a French braid over one shoulder. She hummed to herself, absorbed in her work, pausing only briefly as she turned at the sound of Alfie’s footsteps.
And there it was, that smile and that glow in her eyes that had Alfie hopelessly, relentlessly smitten.
“Hey, you.” She turned back to the tray, placing the last finishing touches. She set the piping bag down and wiped her hands on the front of her apron, motioning for Alfie to follow her.
And he would. Anywhere at all, to the ends of the earth to hell and back.
“This is perfect timing, I was gonna call tomorrow and tell you I needed my favorite authenticity judge to come down here.”
His heart swelled at the word favorite. She said he was her favorite. Fuck, he really was a goner.
“That so?” Alfie grinned, watching her cut off a piece of what looked like a freshly baked blintze, the inside teeming with bright berries “You playin’ round with more Jewish recipes?”
“Mhm.”
“Honestly, love, you might as well convert. I can just imagine the look of horror on the bubbes’ faces of being outbaked by a former Gentile.”
Annie laughed and Alfie melted, exactly as Mags described.
“How ‘bout I don’t ruin their lives, hm?” She placed the dessert on a plate and as she reached past Alfie for a fork, she brushed against him, the light contact setting his nerve endings on fire.
“Now shush and taste.” He nodded and took a bite, eyes closing as his taste buds took in the tart berries, the sweet cream, the familiar doughy but not too doughy roll.
“It’s good, yeah?,” Annie asked happily.
“Really fuckin’ good.” He pointed his fork at her. “A culinary magician you are, Annie Murphy.”
She beamed and took a mock bow.
“Thank you, thank you. So, what’s up?”
Alfie paused and took another bite of the blintze before he replied, doing his best to appear casual, even though he swore Annie could probably hear how loud his heart was beating.
“Just wanted to see if you had a minute to chat.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Just me and you.”
“Yeah, ‘course. Is everything ok?”
Alfie could’ve died at the concern in her voice, her desire to make sure he, this mad lone shepherd who had led 35 lambs to slaughter, was safe.
“Yeah, ‘m fine, love.”
Annie nodded, her look of concern turning to one of slight confusion. She hoisted herself onto the counter, legs swinging slightly.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare back out now, mate.”
Alfie took a deep breath and started to speak, his tone much gentler than usual.
“Right. You probably don’t remember much ‘bout the day we met, ‘sides my storming’ in here wantin to kno-
“Know,” Annie cut him off and cleared her throat dramatically before giving a spot-on impression of him, “why the fuck a Jewish woman was working at an Irish fuckin bakery on this side of Camden?!” She grinned. “And then when you realized it was an Irish-Gypsy woman, how an Irish-Gypsy woman learned to make such proper 'fuckin’ challah.’ Hard to forget that, yeah?”
He chuckled, his nervous hands roaming to the chain on his vest as his tone softened.
“Right. But you know what stayed in my head the most? How you didn’t even flinch, ya just stood there and gave me that, that, smile right there, yeah. Too beautiful for words. Said if someone could braid hair, they could braid bread. You made this grumpy ol’ bastard laugh, and you kept doin’ it. So I came back. Kept comin’ back.”
He stopped and drank her in for a moment, this woman that stole his heart when he didn’t think it could be done. The way the stray, dark wisps of hair that escaped from her braid framed her face. How her apron hung tight against her hips. The exposed skin near her collarbones where her soft shirt tugged to the side. The lone streak of flour on her cheek. And of course, those stunning, jade-green eyes that were currently locked onto his, making him forget how to breathe.
“Fuck, she is a dream.”
Alfie’s tore his gaze away from Annie’s and started to pace, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.
“And then I said to myself, “Alfie, what is this peculiar sensation you are now experiencing?” Like there was some type of drumming goin’ on,” he tapped his temple and chest, “right here and here. And I just thought, ‘Well, we all know you’re touched in the head, so it’s probably just another symptom of our inescapable and utter madness.’ Left it at that.”
“But then I discovered something most interesting over the next few months: that this thing, this feeling, right here, yeah, only happened whenever I saw you. A type of madness reserved solely for the inimitable Annie Murphy. So what could possibly be a diagnosis for something like that, eh?”
“Alfie.” Her voice was quiet, but he pressed on over the interjection. Now that his thoughts were finally tumbling out in earnest, he couldn’t stop them.
“I’m almost finished, love. Right, yeah, so once I realized that it only happened ‘round you, Miss Annie, I knew I was fuckin’ done for.” He laughed, his hand going to the back of his neck. Said, “Alfie, mate, you realize this feelin’ you are carryin’ for this exquisite creature, who is very happily married, mind you, is not going anywhere, it is now an eternal fixture permeating your entire being.
This was it. He paused, feeling his heart reverberating through his bones, and when he dared to look up, Annie was staring right back with a lookthattold him to keep going.
He stopped pacing and looked at her head on.
“What I am tryin’ to fuckin’ say is that whatever remains of this thing in my chest, yeah, it belongs to you. Because I have been in love with you for a very long time, An. Now, you do whatever you fancy with that bit of knowledge, right, but I just needed to finally say it. Out loud. To you.”
One second, two seconds, three seconds, pass and feel like an eternity of silence that Alfie physically can’t take, so he rambled on.
“The alternative of continuing to keep me mouth shut would mean I would have to shoot my balls off because I wouldn’t deserve to keep them. Especially if I ended up seein’ you with one of those fuckin’ handsome little Irish lads who’ve sprung up here like daisies since you took your ring off. So, yeah.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, desperate for some way to shake out how exposed, how vulnerable he felt. “That is that.”
Dread, brutal and blinding, was now coursing through him. Fuck, did she try to cut him off before to stop him from looking like a complete idiot? Her silence spoke volumes to him, this was clearly a colossal fucking misjudgment on his end. What the fuck had he expected, what did he deserve?
“Yeah, time to go, you daft fuckin’ cunt.”
“Right, I will take your silence as you bein’ too sweet to tell me to fuck off, so, I’ll get out of your hair then.”
Annie immediately jolted out of her reverie.
“No, no, no! Don’t go.” She slid herself off the counter, and Alfie was convinced he was going to have a heart attack from this continuing vacillation between fear and hope.
She smiled. “Sorry, I was just … processing. And I still have a hard time knowin’ when you’re done monologuing.”
Then, she was there by him in an instant, close enough for her to wind her hands in his. His eyes met hers with an unspoken plea, practically begging for validation, and he didn’t even care. Because he needed to hear her say it, would burn the world to ashes if it meant he could hear it.
And he did.
“Alfie, I love you too.” His fear finally fell away and he had to remember that he wasn’t dead and this was real — nothing would ever feel this good, this pure, in the afterlife he was destined for.
She was so, so close to him, and he just breathed her in like a drug, warm bread and sugar and something like wildflowers, unmistakably Annie. HisAnnie.
She loved him.
She smiled, a playful note at the edge of her murmur, echoing his own words back to him:
“Do whatever you’d like with that bit of knowledge.”
Pulse alight for all the best reasons, Alfie dropped her hands so he could cradle her face.
“Right, then.”
They crashed into each other, the months of tension palatable in every frantic and tender touch. His lips against hers and the feel of her grin from the soft moan he made when her hands knotted in his hair, tongue sliding past his teeth. He grabbed her hips and it was his turn to smirk at the pretty little gasp she made against him before kissing him even harder. Fuck, this was it, he was in a categorically underserved heaven on Earth.
Until Lily walked through the door.
“Annie, that nut Mrs. McGinnity is out front wantin’ to change her son’s cake again, do you want me to- oh shit, I am SO sorry!”
Annie reluctantly pulled away at the interruption and as Alfie rested his forehead on hers, he was pleased to see her breathing was as labored as his.
“It’s fine, Lil, I’ll be out in a few, yeah?”
“Course!” The door of the kitchen smacked shut, and the two of them dissolved into laughter at getting caught making out like a couple of kids.
“Fuckin’ hell, love.” Alfie traced Annie’s jaw with his thumb and she caught his hand, her eyes trained on his as she brushed her lips over his tattoo, sending goosebumps across his flesh. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ to do that.”
“Well, it’s a relief on my end too.” She pressed her lips back to his again, more gently this time. “I’ve been going fuckin’ mad over here, keepin’ this from you.”
Alfie nodded, still floating in the surreal, dizzy state that seemed suspiciously like happiness.
“Yeah, I know what that’s like, don’t I.”
But then, he noticed Annie’s gaze shift and his heart sank, because those startlingly green eyes were now brimming with tears.
“Hey, hey, An, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really nothing,” she laughed and simultaneously made a noise of frustration, placing the heels of her hand against her eyes and bringing them down again. “I just. I know I’ve been all over the place since Cal died. And uh, it felt like things would never get better, but they have been. And you had a lot to do with that.”
The corner of her mouth lifted at the same time a solitary tear rolled down her cheek, which Alfie stroked away.
“I’m just really happy you wandered into my life, yellin’ your head off about bread.”
“Fuck, Annie, c’mere.”
He pulled her into his arms and she immediately burrowed into his chest, and they stayed like that for a few moments, tangled in each other’s warmth. He pressed his lips to her hair and felt her sigh in contentment, drawing a smile out of him.
“Well I’m glad you’re happy because you’re stuck with me now, ain’t ya?”
“I’m not complainin,” she replied, her voice muffled slightly against his shirt. He pulled back and gently lifted her onto the counter, relieved to see her smiling again.
“There she is.” His tone resumed its normal confidence and he grabbed Annie’s hands in his. “Right, now that we have settled this whole exchange of mutual feelings, yeah. I am takin’ you on a proper fuckin’ date. Wherever you want.”
“Oooh.” Annie drummed her fingers against her lips, thinking. “Let’s do Wilton’s. But fair warning, I’m planning to nick their toffee pudding recipe. Do you know how many people come in here askin’ if I make it like them?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head with a giggle, simply the most adorable thing Alfie had ever set his eyes on. “I’ve just been sayin “yeah,” but I haven’t the foggiest. It’s gonna ruin my street cred.”
“Nah, can’t have that, can we.” He swung her hands lightly. “You want to investigate tonight, then?”
“I can’t. I’m babysittin’ Mags’ kids.” Alfie grimaced and Annie smacked his shoulder lightly. “Come off it, you saw them on one bad day. But I’m free tomorrow.”
“Right, I’ll come get ya ‘round 7.”
“Sounds good,” Annie replied. She wrapped her hands around his neck as she pulled him in for another kiss, only stopping when the sound of rising female voices drifted in from the front of the cafe.
Annie sighed. “I gotta go take care of that.”
Alfie pulled out his watch, matching Annie’s reluctance.
“Yeah, I gotta head off and meet Tommy.” It was the last thing he wanted to do, to step away from the thrill of her touch, her adoration, this temporary respite from the jagged edges of his life. He hadn’t even left, and yet he couldn’t wait to get back to her again.
He grabbed her hand and kissed it, savoring the way her eyes lit up in response.
“See you tomorrow, then, yeah?”
“Mhm.”
Like any addict desperate for one last fix, he kissed her hungrily, letting her hands trace over his beard and the scarred flesh before he forced himself back, hands clasped against her shoulders.
“Fuck, I cannot get enough of you.” He moved toward the door. “Right, I’m leaving, actually leaving.”
He had one hand on the wooden fixture when Annie called out:
“Alfie.”
And he whipped around so fast he nearly fell over, catching himself on the edge of the wall as Annie tried and failed to hide a massive grin behind her hand.
“Yeah, pet?”
“I love you.”
And he knew in a thousand years or a thousand lifetimes, he would never get tired of hearing her say that, or saying it to her.
“Love you too, An.”
He walked through the doorway and practically skipped his way through the rest of the cafe, still humming as he breezed past an agitated Lily and the even more agitated Mrs. McGinnity.
He strode out into the sunlit street, smirking slightly as he saw Ollie immediately stand up straighter from where he was half-slumped against the car. And before Ollie could even open his mouth, Alfie walked straight up to him and kissed him on the head without a word.
He got into the driver’s seat and rested his head against the steering wheel, a mixture of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through his veins as snippets of his conversation with Annie bounced around his head.
He had done it. He had finally told her.
“I love you too, Alfie.”
He heard the passenger door open gingerly and Ollie slid in, and he could practically feel the apprehension radiating off him.
“Are you feeling ok, Mr. Solomons?”
Alfie sat straight up and Ollie started as he clapped him on the shoulder, putting the car in drive.
“Course I am, dear boy. Just a beautiful fuckin’ day, innit? Just lovely, simply lovely.”
Alfie grinned, one hand on the wheel and the other clutching the star pendant that dangled from his neck. Knowing Ollie wouldn’t hear him over the roar of the engine coming to life, he took a second to whisper two much-needed words of gratitude.
Summary: Alfie never expects things to go smoothly. He doesn’t expect his date with Annie to go so incredibly well, and he definitely doesn’t anticipate her wanting to go back to his place. But he’ll take it just the same.
A/N: Um this took forever but I’m pretty dang happy with the end result! *self five* Title from the song of the same name by The Used. “We could take our heads off, stay in bed and just make love, that’s all … And I’m melting in your eyes, like my first time that I caught fire. Just stay with me, lay with me. Let’s sleep ‘till the sun burns out.”
—
Alfie always had a back-up plan. Usually, at least 3. To succeed in his line of work, you had to not only accept that things would go awry, you needed to know how to pivot seamlessly when they did.
The downside to this constant state of vigilance was that it bled over into his life outside of the criminal underworld, forever waiting for the other shoe to drop when things felt too quiet. Too good.
So, it was only natural that as he knocked on the door of Annie’s flat to pick her up for their date, bouncing the sunflowers he brought against his thigh, he was steeling himself for one of the following worst-case scenarios.
A) There’s no response at her door. Plan: Pick the lock, go in, and see if she’s with another man. If so, tell him that if he hurts her, the Wandering Jew will cut his balls off and have him watch as he feeds them to stray dogs. Exit immediately. Go shoot something or someone. If Annie isn’t home and there are signs of a struggle, burn Camden to the ground until he finds her.
B) She answers the door BUT says she changed her mind. Plan: Say he understands, leave, and go shoot something or someone. Drink copious amounts of the rum he “never” touches. Cry?
C) She answers the door and has not changed her mind. Plan: Try to not have a goddamn nervous breakdown in front of her because holy fuck, when was the last time he went on a date, and would Annie actually have a good time, and did the blue vest Edna told him to get actually look ok or did he look like a cunt, and -
And then she opens the door, and he stops worrying about his head going to shit, because his whole body promptly stops working. Was this what people meant by lovesick? Dizzy and feverish and incapable of rational thought, incapable of focusing on anything other than her luminescence. There she is, beaming at him in a sparkling black and gold short-sleeved dress with matching bracelets and heels. It’s the first time he’s seen her with her hair untied, and all he wants to do is run his hands through those dark, silky waves.
By some miracle, he manages to pull himself together, breathing out the first words that come to mind:
“You are fuckin’ radiant, love.” He presses the flowers into her hands, and she inhales happily.
“You’re sweet.” She steps closer until she’s practically against him, her green eyes scanning, drinking him in. She smiles, running a hand down his chest, and Alfie feels like his veins are tangled up with power wires.
“And you clean up very, very well yourself, Mr. Solomons.” She kisses him and Alfie kisses her back, the tiniest part of him nudging, pleading to, for once, trust that things can stay this good. To trust her.
She puts the flowers in a vase and as she takes his hand in hers and leads him out the door, he finally feels like he can exhale. And he tells his doubt to politely fuck right off, if only temporarily.
Remarkably, it works. At dinner, he just gets lost in her, in how easily their conversation flows, in their game of imagining backstories for other patrons.
“That couple at the bar there lookin’ like they’re ‘bout to fuckin’ poison each others’ drinks, yeah, you have got to ask yourself, An: did he sleep with her sister or her best friend?”
“Nah, their maid. His wife fired her when she found out, is now without a cook and won’t do it herself, so he brought her here in a feeble attempt at reconciliation — and so he wouldn’t starve.”
“…. You are a fuckin’ genius, An.”
“Cheers, love.”
She’s as effervescent as her champagne, bubbling and brimming with life and laughter that fills up the dark and hollow spaces in his chest. And that buoyancy sustains him, nourishes him even more so than their lavish dinner.
Buckwheat blinis just like his mom used to make, vessels for the salty, sinful caviar that Alfie justifies to a thoroughly amused Annie: “If ya squint in this light, yeah, it’s just like scales on a little fish. Proper kosher, then, innit?” Succulent lamb with crisp potatoes and a vinegary cucumber salad, delicate lemon sole alongside fresh asparagus with creamy hollandaise.
And, of course, the fabled toffee pudding Annie is dying to investigate. “There’s fuckin’ whiskey in it, no wonder my drunken Irish brethren all fancy it!”
Alfie can’t remember the last time he felt so at ease, this peaceful. When they finally get up to leave, a quick look at his watch reveals that three hours have flown by, and he smiles. The King of Camden and his beloved queen, together in their own little realm. And he’s desperate for it to continue, to stay in this paradise just for a second, a minute longer with her.
His wish is granted as she tugs his hand, guiding him through the warm August air to walk alongside the winding Thames, where the glow of the street lamps reflect like golden sparks. They fall into a comfortable silence, lulled by the current, by the magnetic pull that keeps their hands, their bodies, close together.
And it’s a good thing he’s got one arm slung around her shoulders, because her heel catches on a crack in the stony path. He steadies her as she yelps and tilts toward the dark waters, shaking his head.
“Easy there, love. It’d be my fuckin’ luck, wouldn’t it, takin’ you out and you catchin’ your death in the bloody Thames.“
“Dunno why you’re worried, I’m incredibly graceful.” Her lofty tone doesn’t mask the grin in her voice.
“Pet, I watched you walk right into a fuckin’ door last week.”
"Only because you distracted me!”
"And I am not the least bit sorry, yeah, because it was one of the funniest fuckin’ things I have ever seen in my miserable life.” He kisses the top of her head as she huffs. “Kinda cute too, seein’ ya lose focus over me.”
Annie rolls her eyes, lightly checking him with her hip. “Shut it.”
“Why dontcha make me,” he replies, brushing his lips against her ear.
And she does, stopping abruptly and pulling at the front of his vest as she kisses him, deep and warm and intoxicating. She is the taste of toffee and champagne and home, and Alfie clings to her, letting her flood his senses.
Annie breaks the kiss and her eyes are embers.
“I don’t want to stop.”
“So … don’t,” Alfie replies, his brow furrowing slightly with confusion.
She shakes her head, framing Alfie’s face with her hand. “Let me be more clear.” Her voice is quiet yet confident, every syllable dripping with honey and molten fire. “I want you. Allof you. Yeah?”
Alfie’s eyes widen slightly, and Annie smirks, sending his hair on end as she traces his jawline lightly with her nails. He catches her hand in his and squeezes firmly.
“First order of business, love. I am categorically fuckin’ keen on the idea, make no mistake.” He exhales deeply. “But the tiny part of my soul not yet utterly consumed by complete fuckin’ darkness feels compelled to emphasize that there is absolutely no expectation of you rushin’ into anythin’ with me. That said, I am properly thrilled to devote myself wholeheartedly to studyin’ the noble fuckin’ art and science of bringin’ you pleasure.” His tone softens, brushing her hair behind her ear. “But there is no pressure, yeah?”
“I know. But I’m sure. Just like I’m sure how I feel about you.” She tilts her head slightly. “But categorically fuckin’ keen, huh?” A sly grin spreads across her face, and she punctuates her next sentences with slow, searing kisses that cause Alfie’s head to spin.
“So, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. About me. In bed. With you.”
“I could but I’d be a fuckin’ liar, then, wouldn’t I?,” he replies, his breath hitching slightly. He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Annie, you are absolutely sure-”
She cuts him off, rolling her eyes. “C’mon. Your place is closer.”
“Right.”
He grins and grabs her hand once more, but this time, instead of a slow stroll, they hustle across the busy cobblestone streets together.
–
Alfie unlocks his door and is immediately met by Cyril, who quickly pushes his owner aside to greet Annie.
“Cyril! I missed you, my sweet boy.” Annie’s laugh echoes throughout the house as the massive dog jumps on her, pinning her against the wall with a barrage of slobbery kisses.
With great effort, Alfie heaves Cyril off Annie, grumbling.
“Come off it, you daft dog.” He gets down at eye level with the bull mastiff, who is unmistakably pouting. “Sorry, mate, my woman, not yours.” Cyril continues to stare and Alfie sighs, reaching into a massive bin in the corner to pull out a well-chewed bone, and Cyril decides that all is forgiven. “There ya go, that’s a good lad, getcha treat and trot on.”
Once Cyril lumbers away, Alfie stands up and strides over to Annie. “C’mere, you.” He picks her up easily and she locks her arms and legs around him, dipping down for an off-kilter kiss.
He carries her down the hall to his bedroom, his heart thrumming in his ears as she untangles herself from him and slides onto his bed. He plops down right next to her, bracelets clinking as he cups her face with his hands.
“Fuck, you are beautiful,” he murmurs, placing his forehead on hers. He kisses her deeply and their bodies connect, his hands sliding down to hold her waist as her tongue meets his own. He’s so alive and so in love, so completely dumbfounded as to why God decided to offer a man like him a woman, a goddess, really, like her.
He starts tugging the bottom of Annie’s dress up and she shifts to her knees, helping him guide it off and over her head. Alfie’s breath catches at the sight of her, swathed in scraps of dark silk and lace. His eyes dance across her, transfixed.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he exhales. “You really are a vision, An.”
His rough hands trace across her arms, smattered with burn marks and taut from the labor of kneading and carrying, from transmuting stress and grief to the boxing bag in her basement. But the rest of her is so, so soft, and his hands linger on the curves of her breasts, her hips, her ass. Every part of her he’s privileged to caress sends blazing heat straight to his gut, his cock. He is reverent in this new religion he’s discovered, worshipping at the altar of her sacred form.
His awe-struck reverie is suddenly broken when, her eyes smoldering into his, Annie unfastens both clasps of her garter belt. It’s a simple, subtle motion, and Alfie can’t explain why it sets something off in him, but he doesn’t care. Because now he’s tackling her flat against the mattress, and she’s crashing back into him, and the fire tethering them to each other is the only thing in the world that matters.
It’s frantic and slow all at once as his brain tries to keep up with all the separate sensations. His tongue dancing with hers and her teeth sinking into his neck, his hands ripping the delicate lace off her chest, watching her nipples harden as he grabs at her breasts, sucks hungry kisses along their curves.
All the while, Annie’s fingers fly through undoing the buttons on his clothes, tearing them off him. And when she glides her hand across the tip of his cock, gathering his precum before she starts pumping him, he can’t stop the groan and obscenities that fall off his tongue, utterly powerless under her touch. Fuck, does this woman, his woman, know what she’s doing.
“I can’t wait to feel you in me,” she says beneath him, using her free hand to massage his balls. It takes all his concentration to just not cum right there on her pretty tits, knowing full well he’s nowhere near being finished with her.
“I want a taste of you first.“ He hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband of her panties, and she lifts her hips, letting him strip her bare.
"Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, sliding his ring-laden fingers through Annie’s pooling arousal, relishing the elated gasps she gives when he draws circles on her clit, pushes two fingers into her and pulses.
"This all for me, love?”
“Uh huh.” She nods fervently, biting the corner of her lip.
He stares hungrily at her as he fucks her with his hand, adding a third finger and feeling his cock grow even harder at the way Annie’s walls clench around his digits. He’s entranced by how desire physically transforms her. The color rising to her cheeks, her half-parted lips, the little moans and mewls she gives as she grinds against him. Fluttering emerald irises that give way to a greater expanse of black as her pupils blossom with lust and pressing need. For him.
He suddenly stops and he chuckles at her groan of frustration. He sucks his fingers clean and trails a line of kisses down her inner thigh, wrapping his well-muscled arms around her legs to hold her in place as he begins devouring her. She whines with pleasure as his tongue deftly licks and swirls through her folds, and she grips his hair in her fist.
She isn’t shy and Alfie loves it, her hips bucking against his mouth: “Fuck, Alfie, yes, oh my God, right there.” It just turns him on more. He’s got her spread apart with his fingers, sucking directly on her clit, when she abruptly tugs his head up, her tone alight with wildfire.
“Get in me. Now.”
For once, Alfie doesn’t have a smart reply. He just works his lips back up her body, watching the goosebumps rise on her flesh.
"You want this, love?” he murmurs in her ear, drawing the head of his throbbing dick through the wetness between her thighs, lining himself up at her entrance.
“God, yes, I want you.”
Lust and love burn through him as he enters Annie slowly, eyes rolling back with a groan as he sinks deeper and deeper into her, her nails clawing into his biceps when he bottoms out. He stays still for a moment, giving her a second to adjust to his length and giving himself time to savor the unparalleled feeling of her enveloping every last inch of his hardness. It’s indescribable how good she feels and being able to be fully one with her.
He blinks open and there she is, her gaze burning right through him, and he pulls back and starts thrusting into her steadily. Their hips and moans and praise come together in a delicious rhythm, a sinful cacophony that Alfie wants on full-blast repeat until the end of his days.
“Alfie, fuck, you’re amazing.”
“You are perfect,” he pants, fucking Annie’s tight, soaked core with increasing ferocity. “Fuckin’ made for me.”
He stays on top, drilling her intro the mattress, until she murmurs beneath him, pleading.
“Let me be on top.”
He acquiesces immediately, shifting her into his lap, and they both moan in pleasure as she starts riding him.
“You feel so good. So good to me.“
“That’s right, love. Look how fuckin’ gorgeous you are, takin’ my cock like that.”
“Please keep talking.” She is unashamedly begging, and fuck, is it hot. He smirks, lowers his husky tone and starts playing with her nipples, absorbed in watching her come undone.
“You just love bein’ filled up with my big cock, don’t ya, An? Stretchin’ out that perfect, wet lil’ cunt of yours. Now, be a good girl and tell me who you belong to.”
“You, Alfie. ‘M yours.”
"Fuckin’ right you are,” he growls back, hands smacking against her ass, causing her to gasp with pleasure as she continues gliding up and down his cock. Her nails dig into his shoulders, back arching as he shifts one hand to her clit, and Alfie grunts as he feels her tight walls clench around him further.
“Oh my fuck, Alfie, you’re gonna make me cum,” she whimpers.
“That’s right, that’s my fuckin’ girl, show us how much you need us, An.” His fingers grip her hips as she rides him desperately. “Let me feel you cum all over my cock, love.”
“Oh, oh, Alfie, fuck, Alfie!” She cries out and she all but collapses into him as her orgasm rip through her entire body, spasming around his dick in release.
She slowly pulls back to face him with a lazy smirk, cheeks pink and her voice breathless with satisfaction, but still managing to purr.
“Your turn.”
He’s already lasted way longer than he thought would be possible, and now, all Alfie wants is to take his woman like a fucking animal. So, that’s what he does.
He shoves Annie down onto the mattress, pistoning in and out of her with an absolutely brutal pace. It’s a completely obscene soundtrack, his balls slapping against her, the sucking sound of her dripping cunt taking every last inch of his thick, rock-hard length, frenzied grunts and moans and profanities.
He hikes her legs around his waist and she instinctively locks her ankles on his lower back, letting him use the angle to drive down even deeper, harder, faster into her. His fingers seek out her own as he pounds into her core, and he knows this duality between carnal and tender, of being utterly consumed in every last hidden corner of each other, is going to send him over the edge.
That, and Annie’s crooning voice in his ear, her nails marking up the muscles of his broad back.
“Take what’s yours, Alfie. I love your cock inside me, you make me so fuckin’ wet, I love you so fuckin’ much-“
“FuckinhellchristfuckAn!”
Amid his stream of tangled curses and Annie’s name, Alfie pulls out just in time to finish on her stomach, chest heaving as he watches the warm, milky rivulets trail down her body.
Still catching his breath, he grabs Annie’s face with both hands and kisses her, pulling back with a grin.
“Fuckin’ hell, you are incredible, woman.”
“Likewise. I’m very, very much lookin’ forward to doing that again.”
“I do like the sound of that.”
He rolls off the bed with a slight groan, haphazardly pulling drawers open to find a clean handkerchief. He lays down next to Annie and gently cleans her off, tossing the soiled scrap of fabric to the side.
He brings her into his arms and as she nestles into his chest, he chuckles softly.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“Nothin’. Just properly fuckin’ delighted, ain’t I, by the fact that my sweet little Annie, Camden’s beloved baker, is also a filthy, dazzlin’ little minx.”
She grins, lifting herself up slightly to plant a kiss against his jaw before snuggling back into him. “What can I say? I’m versatile.”
He hums and kisses the top of her head, fingers tracing lightly across her back. He just lays there intertwined with her, the room in complete stillness save for the rise and fall of their breath. And it’s sweet and serene and safe, the complete opposite of what Alfie Solomons has come to expect out of the wicked world, out of himself.
“What’re you thinking? I can practically hear the gears turning ‘round in your head.”
He’s surprised that she doesn’t even need to look at him to sense something’s up, but decides it’s just part of the dual blessing and curse of being known so intimately.
He replies slowly, continuing to draw patterns against her skin.
“Honestly, An, I still cannot fuckin’ believe you are here with me, in my arms, in my bed, because you are a fuckin’ angel that I categorically do not deserve to be in the presence of. Let alone inside of.” His dry laugh morphs into a sigh, speaking more to himself than her. “Gotta be some kinda dream, innit?”
Suddenly, he feels a pinch on his arm, and he looks down to see Annie looking back at him expectantly.
“Anythin’ change?”
The corner of his mouth twitches and he shakes his head.
“Well, that’s settled., then. Not dreaming.” Her gaze is both soft and piercing, seeing straight through all of him, the light and dark. And yet, she stays.
Alfie feels himself melting, falling even further than he thought was possible. She taps the center of his hair-covered chest softly, then taps her fingers against her own. “Trust this, trust us, yeah?”
This time, his sigh is contented.
“I love you, Annie.”
“I love you too.”
They both fall back into the quiet, limbs tangling, and Alfie feels himself starting to drift into sleep, soothed by the warmth of Annie’s body against his. A warmth that transfers straight to his heart.
He shuts his eyes and finds his mind wandering back to just a few nights ago when he lay in this exact bed, unsure and alone, wondering what he’d feel like if Annie was next to him. Now, he has his answer.
SUMMARY — Alfie and his wife. Slice of life and domestic fluff.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — Written for the 100 Followers Celebration for @zablife - congratulations on your milestone darling! This is a Reader fic since it somehow fit the idea better, but I suppose my intention was that the Reader is Edna… if that makes any sense? I hope you like it!
“And what does my beautiful bride want for her tea this fine bloody evenin’?” Alfie asked you when he entered the sunroom where you were resting; Cyril’s head on your lap and a book in hand.
It was in fact a perfectly nice evening, if a little chilly. You knew, however, how his sciatica acted up whenever the temperature dropped, so you decided not to comment. You just smiled at your husband’s word choice, though couldn’t exactly tear yourself away from your reading.
“Should you still be calling me your bride if it’s been a year already?” you asked casually.
Alfie scoffed at that and barked something you couldn’t understand, though somehow knew it was a swear word. You lifted the book higher to hide your utter delight at the reaction. Teasing him never got old.
Warnings - Utter porn throughout. Under 18? This isn’t for you!
“Yeah, like that don’t you, treacle? Like it when I fuck this pretty little cunt hard, eh?” He growls in your ear, his thick fingers plunging in and out of your soaking core, his other hand grasping your neck, holding you firm as you pant, wailing for him. His thick, gold rings pound against your delicate flesh, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, his voice gone to gravel completely. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin’ wet, darlin’. Literally gushing all over my hand, just the way I like ya.”
Pleasure skitters through you wildly as he assails your walls with each dagger of those two relentless digits, the evocator of your ruin, your big, hairy beast of a man making you feel good, like you’re gilding all over, sat on the hallway table. He couldn’t even wait to get you up the stairs, he was craving you so badly. “Look at me, sweetheart, open those pretty eyes. Yeah, that’s it. You’re my good girl, ain’t ya? Always take it so bloody well.”
He hits you deep, thumb moving to your clit and stroking softly, groaning against your neck as he scatters a constellation of kisses there at your throat, your wails making his cock stiffen, your tight little hole widening more as you tingle for him, glossing his hand further. He literally has you open, dripping and ready for him.
“Alfie, please fuck me. I need you so badly,” you pant, your mouth breaking on a cry as he thumbs your bundle more thoroughly.
“You need my cock, eh, darlin’? That what you’re craving, for me to split you in half and fuck your brains out, yeah?”
“Yes!” you gasp, just the thought causing little pricks of pleasure to melt down your spine. He pulls himself from his trousers, tongue gliding your cheek as he removes the fingers within you, urgently plunging in something considerably bigger and thicker, parting your walls perfectly, evoking a carnal whine of desire.
“Yeah, that’s what you wanted, ain’t it, petal? A nice fat, hot cock. Fuck, you’re so tight.” He grunts, hand holding your neck a little tighter, kissing you with feral longing. Pleasure skirrs through you, immediate, biting, overwhelming, his rigidity filling you entirely, your body lifted from the table with every long, greedy thrust. His hips snap against you sharply, his free hand grasping your thigh, nails digging in, rings cold against your hot flesh as he fucks you, so deep, so damned hard.
Your body is at the mercy of his completely, his bulk encompassing you, hand clutching at your throat a little tighter. “My pretty princess, yeah, you take me well, really love it when I give you a damned good seeing to, eh?”
“Ahhh, fuck yes!”
“Mmmm, I love it when you swear for me.”
“What, when I tell you how I love every inch of you and your perfect, big cock? How it feels when you destroy my cunt with it?” His groan is saturated in lust, your dirty talk making him shudder as you share filthy, open-mouthed kisses, tongues battling, breaths ragged, the swell of euphoria upon you both as it blooms, beautiful and brutal, taking you both, lightning striking home.
Sex like that is always too ferocious to last for a long time, but with Alfie, you’re always guaranteed of a good time.
A/N: this is purely 2 am inspiration. And once you have the idea, you have to write it. I am sorry, I don’t make the rules
words: 1077
Summary: Tommy is rarely suprised, but when he comes home to see that Alfie Solomons came over for tea, even his eyebrows raise slightly.
—
Tommy Shelby was often confused by his siblings. Sometimes they deliberately pranked him and on some days they were just… odd. This was one of those days. When Tommy entered the kitchen, he saw John and Arthur standing before the window that looked out on the garden. John’s face was red, and Arthur was visibly shaking. It took a moment for Tommy to realize they were laughing. Arthur had his hand on John’s shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over and John had clasped his hand around his mouth to stifle his laugh. Both men were near crying with laughter, but they tried to be as silent as possible. “What is going on?” Tommy asked. “Sssh!” John said and pointed through the window. Tommy stepped forward and although it took a lot for Tommy to be surprised these days, both his eyebrows rose an inch when he saw who else was thrown into the mix. In the small garden sat Finn and in front of him, Alfie Solomons. Finn seemed totally invested in a painting he was making, and Alfie sat in a chair, drinking whiskey and was talking about all sorts of things. Tommy saw Finn didn’t really listen to what Alfie was saying; the boy was concentrating too much. Alfie, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind at all. He just kept talking, glad that he could finally talk freely without being interrupted. Tommy took a closer look at the art Finn was making. Although, ‘art’ didn’t quite fit the scene Tommy saw on the paper. The white sheet depicted an oval shape. The top of the oval was smaller and on it balanced a circle. The oval was black and white and, in the background, Finn had drawn some green stripes. Tommy cleared his throat. “What the fuck is he making?” he asked, but it took a while before he got an answer. At his question, both Arthur and John threw their heads backwards, wheezing and laughing. “Ssh, not–” Arthur tried to say, “—not so loud! They could hear us.” “So? What is Finn drawing?” Tommy asked a little impatiently. It’s a—a– ” but John couldn’t finish his sentence. Tommy looked out the window again and narrowed his eyes. Yes, he guessed, it might as well be alcohol. The shape on the paper was obviously the bottle and the long top with the circle was the cork. Tommy chuckled lightly. Apparently, he and his brothers had influenced the youngest Shelby so much that the boy had started to draw the spirits he couldn’t drink himself. Tommy looked at Finn. The tip of his tongue stuck out as he drew another line. His foot lightly tapped on the ground and he made some vague confirming noises as Alfie continued his monologue. Tommy patted the wheezing Arthur on his shoulder. I know the drawing is bad, Tommy thought, but there is no need to laugh at Finn like that. He walked towards the door that led to the garden, leaned against the doorpost and lit a cigarette. “I see you found some company, Finn” Tommy said as a greeting, “and good afternoon to you Alfie. Good of you to join us again.” Alfie scoffed, “Now, don’t you start imagining things, Tommy Shelby. The boy,” he pointed to Finn, “asked me to come over for a drink and now how could I refuse that?” He spread his arms as if daring Tommy to come up with a reason to refuse the invitation. But Tommy merely smiled, brought his cigarette to his lips and looked at his youngest brother. “That is a really good drawing you’re making there, eh.” Tommy heard a snort coming from inside window, but he ignored it. Beaming, Finn turned to face his brother. “You really think so? I wasn’t too sure.” He scratched his head with his pencil while he looked at his creation. “Oh no,” Tommy said, all too conscious of the eyes of his brothers that were looking at the scene through the window, “oh no, it is a beautiful whiskey bottle that is for sure.” Suddenly, Arthur’s booming laugh sounded through the garden. Tommy turned around and saw that John was trying to calm his brother, but he was laughing just as hard himself. Finn looked at Tommy with furrowed brows. “What did you say?” Now Tommy became confused as well. “I just said it is a beautiful whiskey bo–” Finn sighed deeply, dropped the pencil and hung his head. “Itisnotawhiskeybottle,” he mumbled. “What?” Tommy asked. “It is not a whiskey bottle,” Finn repeated in a defeated tone. Now, Alfie picked up on the words too. He had been deep in thought while the brothers talked but now, he realized what was going on. “A fucking what? A whiskey bottle?” He stood up and snatched the paper from Finn’s hands. “What the bloody hell, I don’t look like that at all!” Tommy’s eyes widened in realization. “Alfie? You were trying to draw Alfie?” Arthur and John had just managed to stop laughing, but at hearing Tommy’s baffled tone, they burst out yet again. “Yes, you do look like that!” Finn defended his work. “Here, the black is your coat and the white your scarf. And this,” he pointed to what Tommy had seen as the neck of the bottle and the cork, “is your head and the black hat.” “Listen to me, laddie,” Alfie gestured at the round shape of his supposed body, “I lost weight, mate. I fucking lost an awful lot of pounds and you still draw me like fucking panda bear.” “He also gave you the neck of a giraffe!” John cried from behind the window before he and Arthur collapsed in laughter. Finn’s face reddened, “it is harder than it seems, alright.” Tommy tried his utmost best not to smile at the disheartened expression of his younger brother. “Ah, Finn, just say you are sorry and promise to never draw Alfie again.” “Or anyone, for that bloody matter. It is a fucking disgrace, that is what it is,” Alfie added. Finn nodded, “sorry, Alfie, I didn’t mean to.” Alfie grinned, “I know that mate, but don’t mind me while I burn this blasphemous drawing.” Tommy and Finn went inside again, but by doing so they didn’t see that Alfie looked at the drawing once more. They didn’t see how he smiled fondly, folded it neatly and stacked it away in the pocket of his coat, like a precious memento.
It’s Bloody Three O'clock In The Mornin’ - (Alfie Solomons x Reader)
Word count: 1218
Warnings: Swearing. Angst for both Alfie and the reader. Stalking.
A/N: Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.
If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.
It had been a very long and tiring week. Alfie wanted nothing more than to get home and collapse into his bed, but there was something that needed to be done back at the office before he could allow himself the luxury. And thank God he made his way back there.
At first, as he made his way into the building, he thought someone had broken in, hearing the sound of rummaging papers coming from his dimly lit office. But as he silently crept down the passage, the sound of your familiar sigh travelled up to greet him. And instantly he felt himself relax… Nevertheless, why were you still at work, when everyone had left hours ago?
Stopping in the doorway, Alfie spoke with surprise, “Y/N? What are you still doin’ ‘ere? It’s bloody three o’clock in the mornin’? Instantly, regret washed over him when the sound of his voice had you jumping ten feet in the air, your hands releasing a stack of papers in a shower across the floor. Now normally, he would have teased your flightiness, but something in your manner seemed on edge and anxious… and rather uncharacteristically, it had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Because if you willingly chose to spend the loneliest hours of the night, alone, in the dark shadowy office of a notorious gangster, something must be very wrong.
Spinning on your toes, your eyes washed with relief at the sight of his familiar face, and Alfie couldn’t deny the spark of joy it brought to his heart; you were happy to see him. But the fleeting moment of fear he saw before your relief arrived, twisted like a knife in a wound. And he needed to know… what, or more importantly, who, was responsible for bringing such a look of fear to your lovely E/C eyes?
Moving to your side, he wrapped a hand around your elbow, stopping you from kneeling down to gather the papers. You were trembling, and it made him anxious in the most instinctive way. Guiding you upright, he tried to catch your gaze, but your eyes flittered around the floor as your lips formed an incoherent apology. Alfie usually restrained himself from physically touching you, not that he didn’t want to, truth be told, it was something he had wanted for quite some time. But what he really needed right now, was to see your eyes. With a soft touch he caught your chin between his fingertips and moved your gaze to his, asking again, “Y/N, what are you still doin’ ‘ere at this hour?”
He felt pressure on his hand as you tried to lower your head, but his fingertips gently declined you the opportunity to avert your eyes as he waited patiently for your answer. Breathing deeply, you nibbled nervously on your bottom lip, the same look of fear creeping back like a shadow across your face… and he knew then, you were in serious danger. Moving his own head to follow your reluctant gaze, he prompted again, “What’s wrong, Y/N?”
Shaking your head gently, you blinked long and heavy trying to avoid the intense look in his eyes, and it was clear to him that you were about to lie, “Nothing, Mr. Solomons… there’s just a bit of work I need to catch up with.”
Letting go of your chin, his hands went to his hips. “Mr. Solomons…? It’s been a fuckin’ long time since you ‘ave called me that… and we both know you never fall behind… So why don’t ya stop with the shit and just tell me what’s going on.”
A moment of defeat crept upon your voice, and yet, you persisted, “It’s nothing, Alfie… I, I don’t want to bother you… You have enough going on.”
If Alfie wasn’t so concerned, he would have laughed, nothing you could ever want or need would ever be a bother to him. Making a tsking sound, he spoke, “The only thing botherin’ me is not knowin’ what has you so fuckin’ terrified, yeah?” Alfie’s fingers twitched at his hip, resisting the urge to brush a stray lock of hair back to where it had escaped from behind your ear, “Now tell me… Why are you still here at three o’clock in the mornin? You should be tucked up in bed.”
Another deep breath passed through your chest, your expression now completely resigned in defeat, your words filling his veins with a burning pulsing rage, “There’s a man… he, he’s always there… at my house.” Alfie’s whole body grew rigid, but he silently gestured for you to continue. “At first, I thought I was imagining it, he would always stand in the shadows in the lane across the street. But… every night he moves a little closer.”
Almost growling through clenched teeth, Alfie asked, “Who is this bastard?”
You shook your head, your sweet voice beginning to shake, “I, I don’t know him… every night he’s there. I see him from my window… I lay awake, list… listening for every noise, waiting for him to kick down my door.” Through his building rage he noticed the darkness tarnishing the valleys beneath your beautiful eyes, stark evidence of your sleepless nights; how had he not noticed it sooner.
For a moment you were silent, your hesitance to continue was evident as you nibbled at your bottom lip, yet, you took another deep breath to steady yourself and continued. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to him, “I was so relieved when I got home last night… I couldn’t see him anywhere, but I… I found this pushed under my door.”
Unfolding the paper, he read the message scribbled across it, his fingers holding it taught in his grip, almost tearing it at the edges.
I have been watching for a long time Much longer than you know Even when you can’t see me, I am here, watching and waiting
Crushing the message in his fist, he threw it to the ground, barely aware of the guttural sound escaping his throat, his head too heavy with rage to notice. Was this man an imbecile? Too stupid to realise who you worked for, and too unfortunate to know how much you meant to him? Well, soon this misunderstanding would be rectified. And not only this monster of a man, but everyone… would understand the risk they took if they decided they wanted to mess with you.
Moving his hand up along your arm, he slipped it to the nape of your neck, pulling you into his arms. And even in his anger, the feeling of your hair within his palm and the beat of your heart against his chest satisfied a long-awaited yearning. Biting down his rage… just for you, he relaxed his rigid form, desperately wanting to comfort your trembling body… to make you feel safe… to feel protected.
Then resting his temple to the side of your head, he spoke, his words harsh and threatening, but his voice, somehow gentle and comforting against your ear. “Nobody is ever gonna hurt you while I’m fuckin’ breathin’… Now tell me how to get into your place without being seen…? Cause you’re gonna show me exactly who this fucker is, yeah?”
Summary:You were Alfie Solomons little sister and Tommy Shelby’s ex girlfriend.
It had been three years since you last saw your ex. Until your brother sent you on a mission to kill Father Hughes and you came face to face with Thomas Shelby, causing old feelings to resurface again.
There was no denying the beautiful view from the top floor of your house that overlooked the ocean. It was absolutely stunning.
The house that Alfie bought was way to big for just the two of you, but you weren’t complaining. The housekeeper from London was happy to move to Margate, so she was living in the house too.
It didn’t have much of a backyard, so your brothers dog, Cyril, had now turned into an indoor dog, but he didn’t seem to mind, finding comfort on the couch at night with his head in your lap.
He wasn’t a lap dog, far from it, but it didn’t seem to matter to him. Alfie would grumble at you whenever the dog was on the couch, but never made him get down.
Your brother was secretly a soft teddy bear on the inside. He always had been.
You took Cyril for walks every morning, knowing it wasn’t healthy for him to be stuck indoors all day. He liked the beach, sometimes a little too much and didn’t want to leave.
Alfie would join you on the morning walks, but never went in the water. To his defence it was freezing cold this time of year, but you didn’t care. If you were living on the beach, you were going to take advantage of the water, despite how freezing it was.
“It’s not that cold, come for a swim!” You shouted splashing Cyril as he jumped into the water after you, barking happily.
That was a lie though, it was fucking cold. But, you were not going to tell your brother that.
“It’s fucking cold just standing here, sis. Ain’t no way I’m getting in there.” Alfie shouted back from where he was standing on the sand, watching you and his dog play in the water.
You rolled your eyes, glancing over at your pile of clothes by the water where you had dumped them. There was rarely anyone else on the beach when it was this cold, but you kept an eye on your stuff out of habit.
You were just wearing your bikini top and shorts, but had your towel and jacket ready for when you got out the water because that cool wind hitting your wet body would be very cold when you decided to get out.
“Fetch.” You said, throwing a tennis ball further down the beach.
Cyril immediately chased after the ball, jumping in and out of the water as he ran after it before finally grabbing it and running back to you through the water.
“Good boy.” You praised, patting his head from where you were sitting in the shallows before you grabbed the ball from his mouth and threw it again.
You glanced back over at your brother about to try and convince him to come into the water when you spotted someone else walking down the beach towards him.
Even from the distance, you knew who it was. There was no mistaking that black jacket and peaky cap.
It was Tommy Shelby.
You watched in confusion as Tommy walked towards your brother, stopping several meters away from him.
What the fuck was Tommy doing here?
“I do hope you’re gonna leave my sister out of this. She had nothing to with it, even tried to stop me.” You heard your brother say, his eyes glued to the ocean as he spoke, not even looking at Tommy.
“You were easy to find."
Tommy glanced over at you in the water, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he looked back at your brother when he started to talk.
"Yeah, well, there’s a good reason for that, Tommy. Because I wanted it to be here.”
“I once told you, Alfie. For business reasons or in bad blood, I would kill you. I have no business reasons. It seems you have retired.”
Your eyes widened in sudden realisation. He was here to kill your brother.
Oh, hell no.
You quickly rushed out the water, not even caring about the cold air hitting your wet skin. You reached your pile of clothes on the sand, ignoring your shirt and instead grabbing your handgun that was stashed underneath.
“So, this is all purely for bad blood, is it, Tommy?” Your brother questioned, glancing over at you and shaking his head.
You knew he was trying to tell you to stand down, but that was not going to happen.
“I told you. I wanted it to be here."
"You’re not armed?”
Your brother shook his head, “no. Don’t be dull.”
“I’m armed.” You suddenly said, reaching Alfie’s side, your gun in your hand beside you. “I’m not letting you do this, Tommy. Just walk away and no one gets hurt.”
“I can’t do that, Y/N."
His eyes locked with yours before he glanced down at your body, his eyes lingering on the scar on your stomach from the gunshot wound that Father Hughes men had put there.
You could see the conflict in Tommy’s eyes like he was having a mental debate with himself before he shook his head and raised his gun at your brother.
"Drop it.” You ordered, stepping in front of Alfie, blocking him as you raised your own gun at Tommy. “Drop the fucking gun!”
“Y/N, get out the way.” Tommy instructed, but you shook your head.
He was going to have to shoot you if he wanted to get to your brother.
“The only thing I got on me is fucking cancer, mate.” Your brother suddenly said from behind you. “Riddled with it. Doctor told me I might have picked it up in France from the gas or something. He even showed me a photograph before I met you at the fight-”
“Alfie, stop talking.” Tommy said, cutting him off.
“So I said, ‘Margate’ right, and here I am-”
“Alfie, look at me.”
“Drop the fucking gun!” You shouted, your own handgun still aimed at him as you eyed the barrel of his cautiously.
“Come on, Tommy. There’s an honourable reason now to pull that trigger-”
“Y/N, move!” Tommy yelled, his gun starting to waver as he stared at you. “Alfie, look at me!”
“Fucking get on with it. Stop acting like a little girl.”
“Alfie-” Tommy started to say before your brother suddenly grabbed your shoulders and shoved you off to the side.
You stumbled a few feet, unable to keep your footing as you landed on your knees in the sand and quickly turned, looking back at your brother who pulled a gun from the inside of his jacket and turned it towards, Tommy.
“Wait!” You screamed, but it was too late.
There was nothing you could do as you watched in horror as Alfie pulled the trigger, the bullet scraping the side of Tommy’s arm, but it was enough to get him to pull the trigger too.
“NO!” You screamed, the bullet hitting your brothers face and they both fell to the ground.
You rushed to your brother and skidding to your knees beside his motionless body. The bloodied bullet wound stretching across his left cheek, blood pouring from it and seeping into the sand.
“No. No. No. Alfie? Alfie?” You whimpered, hot tears falling down your cheeks as you reached towards his face with your free hand, unsure of how to even attempt to slow the bleeding with this injury.
“Shit.” You heard Tommy swear from behind you.
In an instant, you raised your gun, turning your body from where you were sitting and aimed it at Tommy who was staggering to his feet.
“Whoa. Y/N wait.” He quickly said, holding up his free hand, his other pressed to his side, blood dripping down his sleeve. “I didn’t mean to kill him. He fired his-”
“You came here to kill him!” You snapped, glaring at him through the tears. “You came here to fucking kill him though, didn’t you?!”
“Yes, but I changed my mind.” He insisted, slowly walking towards you. “Y/N, I swear, I changed my mind. I wasn’t going to shoot him. I swear to fucking God.”
Your gun was trembling in your hands, your entire body shaking as tears streamed down your cheeks.
“Y/N…” Tommy said, trailing off, kneeling down beside you as he gently grabbed the barrel of your gun.
You didn’t have the energy to stop him as he carefully took the gun from you, tossing it off to the side, out of your reach.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, reaching for your shoulder before you suddenly stood up and shoved him away.
Tommy grunted as he fell backwards into the sand before quickly getting to his feet.
“Y/N-”
“Get out of here!” You screamed, shoving him back again as he raised his hands, trying to show that he wasn’t a threat. “Get the fuck out of here!”
He tried take another step towards you before threw a punch, your fist connecting with his jaw. The force of the hit sent his head slamming back as he staggered back a step, grabbing his cheek.
“Get the fuck out of here before I fucking kill you!” You shouted, your voice breaking at the end as a weak sob escaped your lips.
Tommy’s expression cracked as he stared you helplessly, his bright blue eyes filled with so much guilt and sadness, but you didn’t even notice. All you could see was red as you stared at him, your entire body trembling as you screamed at him to leave.
“Okay. Okay. I’m going, I’m going, Y/N.” He quickly said, his hands still raised as he glanced down at your brother before meeting your eyes again. “I’m sorry.”
That was all he said before he turned around and walked off. You watched him through blurry eyes as he disappeared up over the sand dune before you turned back to your brothers lifeless body and dropped to your knees beside him.
You didn’t even notice that Cyril had come over and was now sitting beside your brothers body. A wrecked sob escaped your lips as you stared down at, Alfie.
“I-I’m so sorry.” You whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your face.
You lowered your head on your brothers chest and cried, but your tears came to a very sudden halt when you felt his chest rise and fall ever so faintly.
In an instant, you lifted your head, looking down at Alfie with wide eyes before you hovered your hand over his mouth and felt a small shuddering breath of air come out.
He was still alive.
Holy fuck, he was still alive.
“Oh, my God.” You gasped, quickly getting to your feet as you glanced over your shoulder at your house that you knew was just over the sand dunes. “Stay here, I’m going to get help. You’re going to be okay, Alfie. I’m getting help.”
With that, you took off in the direction of the house, Cyril racing after you as you sprinted over the sand dune before reaching the back door of your house.
“Anna!” You shouted, calling for the housekeeper. “Call for an ambulance!”
A second later, the old lady was hurriedly walking down the stairs, looking at you in confusion.
“It’s Alfie. He’s been shot. He’s on the beach. Call an ambulance, get them to go the beach out the front, now!”
Anna nodded, already reaching for the phone before you ordered Cyril to stay, relieved that the dog listened. You grabbed a handful of clean towels from the cupboard before rushing back out the door towards the beach.
Your brother was still laying in the same spot as before, unmoving as you dropped to your knees beside him.
“Help is on the way, okay? You just gotta hang on a little longer, bro. You’re going to be fine.” You insisted, although you knew you were trying to convince yourself more than him.
You pressed the towels to the side of his face, trying to slow the bleeding as you sat beside him, anxiously waiting for the ambulance.
-
The next 24-hours was the most stressful 24-hours of your entire life. It rivalled with time you were last in hospital with Tommy all those years ago.
This was exactly like that. Except it wasn’t Tommy, it was your big brother.
You sat beside his hospital bed, hating how familiar it felt as you stared at Alfie.
The doctors had done the best they could. Said that by some miracle the bullet didn’t hit the brain or anything vital except for his left eye which he won’t be able to see out of anymore. He just had a long gash across his left cheek that was stitched together and looked awfully painful, but other than that, the doctors said that he should be fine.
If a giant scar and one blind eye was the worst of his injuries, you’d be happy. But, you weren’t going to believe anything until your brother woke up and you could see it for yourself.
“Ma'am, you should go home and get some rest. We have your number and can contact you when he wakes up.” One of the nurses suddenly said.
You glanced over your shoulder to find the nurse standing in the doorway of your brothers hospital room, looking at you sympathetically.
You shook your head, “I’m not going anywhere until I know my brother is okay.”
The nurse looked like she wanted to argue, but she didn’t get the chance to.
“I-I’m okay, sis.” Alfie grunted from beside you.
Your head snapped back in his direction to find his eyes now open and staring up at you. His left eye was a cloudy white colour, but other than that, he seemed to be okay.
He was okay. Your brother was okay.
“Mr Solomons.” The nurse said, snapping into action and rushing to his beside before you could even say anything.
You watched anxiously as the nurse did a few tests and went over your brothers vitals. He was a little out of it, which the nurse expected with the amount of pain medication he was on, but to your relief she deemed him stable and okay before leaving the two of you alone.
“Stop worrying, right, I’m okay.” Alfie mumbled, from his hospital bed.
You looked back over at him from where you were sitting hugging your knees to your chest, your chin resting on top as you stared at him.
Your brother had been injured many times before and every single one of those times, you had worried. When you were kids and he broke his arm after jumping from the roof, you had worried so much the doctors thought it was you that needed help when you got to the hospital.
Then, Alfie, had enlisted for the army and was shipped off to France… that had been the worst. Not knowing if he was alive or dead. Waiting for weeks on end for his letters, fearing that if they stopped, then he’d be dead.
You were proud of him. He had worked his way up the ranks and became a Captain during the war. You were so proud of him, but at the same time, you had hated him for enlisting.
You were so angry at him, more angry than you had ever been, but this… right now… it was a close second.
“None of this is okay!” You snapped, unable to hold in your anger.
Your brother just stared at you, trying to figure out the reason behind your outburst before you shook your head, saving him the time.
“Why’d you do it?”
Alfie didn’t respond as he stared at you in confusion.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” You questioned, trying and failing to control your anger.
“Okay, I’m on a lotta fucking pain meds right now. I’m gonna need ya to be a little more specific.”
“What were you thinking back on the beach? You were egging him on to pull the trigger, did you want him to fucking shoot you?”
The second the words left your mouth, Alfie, looked away from you, staring at the wall across the room with an unreadable expression.
For the longest time, he didn’t say anything.
The two of you sat in silence as you stared at your brother, his posture ridge as he laid there, refusing to look at you.
“Yeah, I did.” He finally muttered.
He wanted Tommy to shoot him. Your brother wanted Tommy to kill him… he wanted it.
“I always intended for Tommy to discover my betrayal, alright? That’s why I told him we’re moving to Margate. I wanted him to track me down and kill me…"
"Why?” You asked in utter disbelief.
Why would your brother want to be killed?
“Because I’d rather die at the hands of an honourable man, like Tommy, and die on my fucking own terms than from this fucking cancer.”
He finally turned his head back towards you, his one good eye looking at you sadly.
“Alfie…”
“I knew.” He said, cutting you off. “I knew, Tommy wasn’t gonna do it. He had a change of fucking heart, I saw it in his eyes. Ain’t no way he was gonna do it.”
“That’s why you shot at him first? To make him pull the trigger?”
Alfie nodded, “I knew it was the only way. Made sure to just graze his arm, just enough to get him to react.”
“You… you had all this planned. You had all this set in motion and you didn’t even tell me. You-you weren’t even going to say goodbye.” You whispered, unable to stop the tears from rising in your eyes as you hugged your knees tighter to your chest.
“I couldn’t, sis. I couldn’t fucking tell you-”
“Why?”
“Because you were the only person on this god damn planet that could’ve talked me outta it!” He shouted, wincing a little at the pain it caused before he sighed. “And I wasn’t gonna be talked outta it, alright? Ain’t no way.”
“And what about me?”
Alfie paused for a moment, looking over at you. “Huh?”
“What about me? Did you even think about what your death would’ve done to me?” You asked, silent tears falling down your cheeks.
“You’re tough, kid. Strongest woman I fucking know. You woulda been fine without me, you will be fine without me.”
“That’s bullshit and we both fucking know it.”
“Y/N-”
“No. Look, I get it. You got cancer, you’re dying. You just wanted it over, I get it. You’ll be fine when it’s over, but what about me?” You questioned, fresh tears rising in your eyes. “I can’t lose you too.”
Alfie’s expression softened as he stared at you and if you weren’t mistaken you could see tears now glistening in his eyes as well.
“Well, it don’t fucking matter now, does it? I’m still here because that fucking gypsy can’t shoot straight, can he?” He said, trying to lighten the mood. “After all the bloody time you spent with him, you couldn’t have taught him how to fucking aim?”
That caused you to smile softly as you looked at him.
“I’m glad I didn’t.”
Alfie nodded, “yeah, well me too.”
That caused you to lift your head off the top of your knees as you looked over at him in confusion.
“Seems like fate doesn’t want me dead yet.” He said with a shrug. “I’m curious to find out why.”
“You think God has something planned for you?”
“Seems like it, doesn’t it?”
You nodded, but had no idea what that 'something’ could he.
“I’m practically a God now myself, aren’t I? Everyone thinks I’m fucking dead, I can do whatever I want.”
You rolled your eyes, “the only thing you’re doing for the next couple of days is resting in this hospital bed.”
Summary: You were Alfie Solomons little sister and Tommy Shelby’s ex girlfriend.
It had been three years since you last saw your ex. Until your brother sent you on a mission to kill Father Hughes and you came face to face with Thomas Shelby, causing old feelings to resurface again.
“Good morning, Miss Solomons.” Anna greeted as you walked downstairs.
You looked up to find the housekeeper currently dusting one of the many bookshelves in the house, giving you a friendly smile.
“Good morning, Anna. And please, we’ve been over this. Call me, Y/N.”
Anna just smiled like she always did and you knew she was still going to refer to you as Miss Solomons. She had been doing it for the few last few years, you doubted you could change it any time soon.
“Has the morning paper come in?” You asked, making your way to the kitchen.
She didn’t reply straight away as you opened the fridge and grabbed the milk.
“No.” She finally answered.
Her voice seemed a little off, almost uncertain causing you to look back over at her as she followed you into the kitchen.
“Are you okay?”
Anna simply nodded, but refused to look at you which was setting off alarm bells in your head.
She walked over to the kitchen table, grabbing a tea towel and subtly moving it to cover something on the table. Frowning in confusion, you put the milk down on the bench and walked across the room towards her, reaching for the tea towel.
“Wait, Miss Solomons.” Anna quickly said, grabbing your hand to stop you.
“Anna, what are you hiding?”
She didn’t say anything for a moment as she stared at you before looking down at the towel on the table and sighed, letting go of your hand.
“It’s this mornings newspaper.”
“I thought you said that it hadn’t come yet.” You responded sceptically.
“I lied.”
Why would she lie about the newspaper? If she wanted to read it first, that wasn’t an issue. It was just the newspaper, you didn’t give a shit.
“Why did you lie?” You asked, looking at her, but she was just staring at the tea towel, not wanting to meet your eyes. “Anna?”
“Because of the front page.” She answered.
“What’s on the front page?”
“Not what. Who.”
Okay, now you were even more confused. Why did it matter who was on the front page?
You didn’t bother asking, you just grabbed the tea towel, shifting it off the paper, but stopped when you saw who was on it.
Tommy Shelby.
You stared at the photo for a moment, hating that it was actually a nice photo. Of course it was a nice photo, it was Tommy. He always looked good.
He was standing behind a podium, obviously giving some kind of speech with the headline 'Birmingham’s newest Labor MP’ written below it.
“I know you and Mr Shelby have a complicated history. I just didn’t want you to see it and get upset.” Anna said gently from beside you.
She was trying to look out for you. She didn’t want to lie, she was just trying to protect you.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you, but I’m okay.” You reassured, walking back over to the milk to make your morning coffee.
Anna didn’t say anything else after that, disappearing out the kitchen to continue her dusting.
You poured yourself a cup of coffee and grabbed the newspaper off the table before you made your way back up stairs to the main living room. Cyril was fast asleep on the couch, snoring softly as you walked past, opening the doors to the small balcony before taking a seat outside.
You stared out at the ocean, the sun slowly getting higher in the sky as the smell of salt water filled the air. It smelt like home.
Grabbing your coffee you took a sip before looking back at the newspaper, ignoring the front page as you started to flick through. Most of it was boring stuff that you skimmed over, leaving the crossword for your brother which he would end up just asking you to help him with anyway.
By the time you got halfway through the paper, you had forgotten all about the front cover until you turned to the next page and came face to face with Tommy once again.
‘Bookmaker from Birmingham turned MP overnight’
Underneath the headline was a close up shot of, Tommy. Even in black and white he was stunning.
However, it was the next photo further down that caught your attention.
It was of the whole Shelby clan. The photo taken as the group were walking down the stairs of Parliament House.
They all had bright big smiles plastered on their faces. Charlie was in Polly’s arms, smiling happily despite not knowing what was happening, but it was the baby girl in Tommy’s arms that made you stop.
Lizzie Stark had her baby.
Tommy had a daughter now… he had a baby girl.
You couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that it could have been you standing beside him. It could’ve been you with a baby, but it wasn’t.
It wasn’t you because once again, Tommy, chose the other girl. And it wasn’t you because you couldn’t keep your own baby alive.
The one thing your body was designed for and you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t fucking do it. Lizzie got her baby and she got, Tommy. You lost your baby and you lost, Tommy.
How was that even remotely fair?
You didn’t even realise that you were crying until your tears dripped onto the paper in your lap, staining the photo.
“Shit.” You whispered to yourself, wiping the tears from your eyes.
You sat there, looking down at the paper in your lap. Your coffee now long forgotten as you stared at the baby in Tommy’s arms. The tears you had just wiped away were instantly replaced with fresh ones.
Suddenly, a hand reached over your shoulder, taking the newspaper away without a word.
You didn’t need to turn around to know that the hand belonged to Alfie. His rings and hairy arm were enough of a give away, but you didn’t turn to face him, not wanting him to see the tears in your eyes.
“Anna told me to check on ya. She was worried about you.” He said after a few seconds of silence. “Seems like she was right to worry, eh?”
“Anna should mind her own business.” You mumbled, staring out at the ocean. “I’m fine.”
“Now we both know that ain’t true.”
You wanted to argue with him, but you knew that it was pointless. Your brother knew you well enough to know that you weren’t okay, but you should be.
It had been over a year since you last saw, Tommy. A year since he had tried to kill your fucking brother, a whole year. But, it was even longer since the miscarriage. You should be fine, but it was clear now that you weren’t fine.
“How did I ever give someone the power to fuck me up this badly?” You asked, hating how fragile your voice sounded.
Alfie sighed and walked over to the edge of the balcony, leaning against the railing and staring out at the ocean.
“You still love him, right?” He asked, but it sounded like he already knew the answer.
You wanted to say no.
It should be a no.
After everything that had happened between the two of you and after nearly killing your brother, you should fucking hate him… but you couldn’t.
You still loved him and you hated yourself for it.
“You’re human, kid. Ain’t no shame in loving someone.” Your brother added.
“I should hate him. Not love him.”
“Yeah, maybe. But, those damn blue eyes are hard to resist, ain’t they?” Alfie responded, glancing over his shoulder at you as you tried to stop the tears from falling down your face. “Stop.”
“Stop what?” You asked, forcing your voice to come out casual.
“That.” He said motioning towards your face. “I know you’re strong, but you don’t gotta pretend to be okay. Not in front of me, kid. Not me.”
You didn’t say anything to that as you looked down at your hands in your lap. Fiddling with one of your rings before your brother pushed himself away from the railing and walked over to you.
“It’s okay to not be okay, Y/N.” He said softly, grabbing your shoulder and squeezing it gently.
-
1929-
It had now been over three years since you and Alfie had moved to Margate.
Your brother for the most part, seemed to be enjoying retirement, but you knew he was getting restless and missed being back in London working.
You missed the life too, but at the same time, living on the beach with nobody trying to kill you was a nice change.
“Cyril, c'mon.” You called out, whistling as you walked along the beach.
The whistled seemed to catch the dogs attention, his head shooting up and looking over at you before he ran out the water in your direction.
You held your shoes in your hand, towel wrapped around your body while walking bare foot through the sand, Cyril now walking beside you as you made your way back the house.
By the time you got back home, your body was practically dry from the water, although the dog was still soaking wet. You let Cyril through the front door wincing at the pawprints he left behind on the carpet before making your way to your bedroom, changing out of your bikinis and into your usual neat suit.
You finished brushing the knots out your hair and looked at yourself in the mirror. The scar over your left eye always more prominent after being in the salt water.
For a while, you hated the scar.
Your brother always teased that you were just trying to be like him with a scar on your face, but over time, you began to get used to it. It was a part of you now and although it was a reminder of that day in Birmingham, back when Luca’s men were trying to kill Arthur, it was also a reminder of how far you’ve come.
From being that scared little girl in the orphanage to being who you were today. You had come a long way, even if sometimes you couldn’t see it.
Suddenly, your bedroom door opened and you spun around, expecting it to be Alfie, although he always knocked so it seemed weird that he just barged straight in. What if you were still changing?
“Miss Solomons.” Anna’s voice quickly said as you turned to find her in the doorway.
You opened your mouth to greet the housekeeper, but quickly closed it when you saw the panicked expression on her face.
Shit. What had happened? You were only gone for an hour, what could have possibly happened in that time?
“We, uh, we have a guest.”
Okay, you were not expecting that.
A guest? You guys rarely had any guests, who the hell could it be? And why did Anna seem worried about said guest?
“Who is-” You began to say before she cut you off.
“Thomas Shelby.”
Suddenly, your entire world came to a screaming halt and you had to grab hold of the wall beside as the name hit you like a train.
Tommy was here.
Why the fuck was he here? He tried to kill your brother last time you saw him… shit, Alfie.
“Where are they?” You questioned, hating how strained your voice now sounded as you pulled your handgun from your shoulder holster inside your suit.
“Upstairs, main room.”
You didn’t wait for her to say anything else before you rushed out the bedroom and ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, your fingers tightening around the gun.
Summary: You were Alfie Solomons little sister and Tommy Shelby’s ex girlfriend.
It had been three years since you last saw your ex. Until your brother sent you on a mission to kill Father Hughes and you came face to face with Thomas Shelby, causing old feelings to resurface again.
Tommy was sitting in a chair at the far end of the room opposite your brother. They both turned in your direction when they heard your gun cock and you raised it in Tommy’s direction.
His piercing blue eyes locked with yours before glancing down at the barrel of the gun cautiously and lowering the cigarette from his lips.
After all these years, you thought you had gotten over Tommy Shelby, but now as you stood in the doorway staring at him, you realised that wasn’t true.
He was still as handsome as ever. The sides of his hair were cut shorter than you had ever seen it, but it somehow suited him. He still wore the same clothes, smoked the same cigarettes and you hated the way your heart was screaming at you, telling you how much you had missed him.
You did. You missed him. But, at the same time, you fucking hated him for everything that he had done.
For nearly killing your brother. For choosing Grace over you. For choosing Lizzie over you. For everything. But you still missed him and you hated yourself for it.
“Easy there, sister. Don’t go shooting holes in my fucking house, yeah?” Alfie suddenly said, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“He shot you last time we saw him. He tried to fucking kill you and now he’s working with people like Oswald Mosley and getting into fucking fascism.” You glanced over at Tommy who was looking at you with an impressed expression. “I read the papers, so don’t even try to lie to me-”
“Tommy and I have already been through all this. He ain’t working with that fucking fascist.” Alfie said, cutting you off.
You looked back at your brother, shocked that he was defending him. After everything that had happened, you thought your brother would hate him. Why was he trying to defend the man that had tried to kill him?
“I’m gonna shoot Oswald Mosely.” Tommy informed, lifting his cigarette to his lips and taking a drag, his eyes never leaving yours.
You scoffed, “really?”
“I hope you do a better job on him than the one you done on me, yeah?” Your brother said as he looked over at him. “I mean, what were you thinking? Was your mind somewhere else, Tommy?”
Tommy looked back over at you, “yes, it was, actually.”
You stared right back at him, but knew you could never pull the trigger and sighed, lowering your handgun.
“I need to organise a riot.” Tommy continued to say a few seconds later, looking over at your brother. “And I hear you still have some… standing in the Jewish community.”
“Let me be clear, alright?” Alfie began to say as he leant forward. “Since my resurrection, I am considered to be a god, alright? In the Holy Land, someone has made an image of me out of rock embedded in the sand, so I am told, and I am planning to make a pilgrimage to stand in my own shadow. Are you gonna shoot him because this man is evil?”
“I need men who can fight. Mosley uses men from Glasgow. So, if the men causing the trouble are Jewish, it will be… explicable.” Tommy explained, not answering your brothers question.
“Since when do you need explanations, Tommy?” Alfie asked.
“Since I entered politics.”
You were shocked when you first heard that he had entered politics. You honestly didn’t see that coming, but he seemed to be good at it none of the less.
“So, you think if you kill him, you will kill the message, yeah?” Your brother responded.
“I will kill the man, then I will kill the message.” He nodded before turning back towards you. “I need your help too.”
Oh, that was fucking rich coming from him.
“After everything you put me through, you come here and ask for my fucking help? How dare you.”
Tommy’s expression dropped and he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Y/N, I never meant to hurt you or-”
“You keep saying that, yet you keep hurting me anyway.”
“Y/N-”
“You keep coming and going from my life whenever you please and it fucking hurts when you leave! Don’t you get that? It happened with Grace, and it hurt. It happened after Father Hughes and I had a fucking miscarriage and you weren’t there! Then it happened with Lizzie, and it hurt. And it keeps hurting and now you’re back again! If you come back into my life it’s only a matter of time before you leave again and it will hurt again!” You shouted, tears now burning in the back of your eyes.
Tommy quickly stood from his chair, his eyes full of guilt and sadness. He took a step towards you, opening his mouth, but no words came out as he stared at you helplessly.
“You’ve done this to me again, and again, Tommy. I can’t live like this. I-I can’t.”
“Y/N…”
Silent tears began to trickle down your face as you shook your head at him.
“Alright, I think it’s time for you go.” Alfie suddenly said, standing up and putting himself between you and Tommy protectively. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Wait, just let me talk to her.” Tommy argued, trying to step around your brother, who grabbed his arm, stopping him from getting any close to you.
“Nah, mate. You’ve already done enough.”
You turned away, unable to look at him as your brother started to usher Tommy out the room.
“Y/N, please, I need you.” Tommy said, ignoring your brother completely. “You deserve better, you deserve so much better than a man like me, I know you do. But, I need you.”
“Yeah? Well, there was a time when I needed you too.” You said, turning back towards him, wiping the tears from your eyes. “But, not anymore.”
“You fucking heard her. Time to go.”
Alfie grabbed his arm again, but Tommy shook his head, yanking his arm free from your brothers grasp.
“Y/N, I still love you. I never stopped loving you.”
“Don’t.” You warned, shaking your head.
You had heard this before. And it still ended the same way because no matter how much Tommy claimed to love you, it was never enough. You were never enough.
“It’s the truth. And not a single fucking day has gone by where I don’t think about you. I miss you, Y/N.” Tommy said, stepping forward and cupping the side of your face with his hand. “I missed you so much.”
You closed your eyes and leant into his touch with a deep sigh.
“What about, Lizzie? You’re married to her now, right?” You asked, after a few seconds.
Tommy nodded, “I am. But, fuck Lizzie. Fuck everyone else, okay? Because I want you. It’s always been you, Y/N.”
What the hell were you meant to do now?
You stilled loved him. You knew you did and you could never say no to those begging blue eyes, but after everything that’s happened, could you trust him again?
“Say the word, kid, and I’ll throw his gypsy ass out the fucking door.” Alfie said sternly, standing behind Tommy with his arms crossed over his chest.
You glanced over at your brother who was glaring a hole through the back of Tommy’s head, just waiting for you to tell him to do it, but you shook your head.
“No, it’s okay.” You replied, catching Tommy by surprise as his eyes widened a little, a glimmer of hope flashing across his face. “You’re not just saying all that because you need my help?”
“No, no. God, no.” He quickly said, shaking his head, lowering his hand. “Everything I just said was the truth. I fucked up so many times with you, but I never once lied to you, Y/N.”
You stood there for a moment, contemplating everything before you eventually nodded.
“I’m so going to regret this, but, what do you need my help with?”
Your brother looked between the two of you for a moment before deciding that he didn’t need to kick Tommy’s ass and instead wandered back over to his chair and sat down with a grunt.
“You used to be one of the best shooters I know. How’s your aim with a sniper rifle these days?” Tommy asked, catching you by surprise.
“It’s good.” You answered slowly, trying to figure out why he needed to know that before it suddenly hit you. “You want me to assassinate Oswald Mosely, don’t you?”
“Not exactly.”
You raised your eyebrows, “care to elaborate?”
“I already have a man with exceptional sniper skills to take the shot. But, he’s, uh, well, I don’t exactly trust him to get the job done. So I need you there with him to take the shot if he doesn’t.”
“And who is your exceptional sniper?” You asked curiously.
“A man I fought with back in France.”
“Why don’t you trust him to take the shot?” Alfie asked sceptically from his seat.
“Because I recently broke him out of a mental asylum. He’s a good man, but the war fucked him up and he’s not all there anymore.”
Alfie shook his head, “and you want my sister to be near some fucking nut job with a sniper, who you don’t even trust?”
Tommy sighed, “yeah.”
“I can take care of myself.” You said, making a point to stare at your brother who looked ready to argue, but thought better of it. “If he doesn’t take the shot, I’ll make sure it gets done.”
“This weekend, there’s a big event. Mosely will be making a speech. That’s when it needs to happen. Alfie’s riot group will cause a scene and that’s when the shot will be taken and-”
“How much you paying?” Alfie questioned, cutting him off.
Tommy turned around, looking over at your brother. “Thought you might do it for the cause, Alfie.”
“Go on, fuck off.” Your brother muttered, causing Tommy to smile, expecting that answer.
“Each man will get 20 pound. You’ll both get 5,000.”
“You know, as a god, Tommy, right, I am now able to just rise above those kinds of insults, mate.”
You chuckled softly, shaking your head as the corners of Tommy’s mouth twitched up in a small smile.
“Ten?”
Your brother stared at him for a moment before nodding. “Where do you want the men?”
“Birmingham.”
“No. No. That 20 will not be enough for my lads to step inside that fucking shithole. It’ll have to be 25, at least.”
“Alfie-” You warned, looking over at him before Tommy raised his hand.
“No. It’s okay. 25 it is.”
“So, you’re still at it, eh, Tommy? Hmm. Ain’t got no Margate to go to.” Alfie said, looking over at him and you knew your brother had missed this.
He missed negotiating deals. He missed being part of the action. He missed it all.
“No. I have no interest in shooting seagulls.” Tommy answered, motioning to the one seagull sitting on the balcony railing outside.
“Oh, but you have in shooting cabinet minsters.”
That caused Tommy to smile again. God, you had missed seeing that smile. It looked good on him.
Neither of you said anything for a moment as you stared at each other and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you before your brother started to talk again.
“I was on a lot of drugs at first, right, due to the pain, you know, on account of it… well, you know, being shot in the face by some cunt.”
You rolled your eyes as Tommy shook his head before Alfie continued.
“I won’t bore you with the details. It’d chill ya. Nonetheless, I had a recurring dream.” He started to say causing you to look over at him in confusion. “I saw you in a field, right, with a big black horse, and you said, ‘goodbye’, and then, bang.”
Your blood turned to ice when you realised what he was trying to say.
Alfie had dreamt that Tommy died.
Oh, god.
Your brother never got those kind of dreams wrong. He always said it was those damn glasses that helped him see into the future, you had no idea whether to believe him about that or not. But, the one thing you did know was that, Alfie, was never wrong. Not with that kind of stuff.
Tommy didn’t seemed fazed by it in the slightest as he just raised his eyebrow at your brother who stared at him for a moment before continuing.
“Alright, then, well… what now?”
“I will continued… 'till I find a man that I can’t defeat.” He answered, staring at Alfie for a moment before he turned back towards you. “I need to get back to Birmingham. There’s some stuff I need to take care of before it goes down. The event is this weekend, any chance you can come to Birmingham on Friday?”
You nodded, “I’ll see you then.”
-
“You be careful, yeah? Call me the second it’s over and tell me that you’re safe. Okay?” Alfie said, wrapping his arms around you.
“I will.” You promised, hugging him back before you climbed into the car, waving goodbye as you started the long drive to Birmingham.
You used to think that the drive from London to Birmingham was bad enough, but Margate to Birmingham was even longer.
Eventually though, you pulled up on the side of the main street in front of the Shelby’s old house that you had spent many nights at. You weren’t entirely sure if they still owned the place, you figured they did because it was where they did most their business, fixing races and collecting money.
You climbed out the car and knocked on the front door.
For the longest time, you thought that nobody was home, but just as you were about to go back to your car, the door suddenly opened and you came face to face with a grown up, Finn.
Holy shit.
“Y/N?!” He exclaimed, his eyes widening in utter shock.
“Hey, kid.” You said, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “Well, you aren’t exactly a kid anymore, are you?”
“Just turned 21.” He responded proudly before he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you.
You chuckled softly and hugged him back, trying to think of the last time that you had actually seen him.
He used to be this small little boy who’d follow his brothers around like a lost sheep and now, he was all grown up.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, letting go of you.
“Here to help for the weekend. Is Tommy here?”
“He and Arthur just left. I think they went to Uncle Charlie’s yard.”
You nodded, “thanks, Finn. I’ll see you around.”
“Don’t be a stranger. My brother really misses you.” He called out as you walked back to the car before stopping and turning back to him. “We all really miss you.”
“I missed you guys too.”
With that, you climbed back into your car and began driving to Charlie Strong’s yard.
It had been a long time since you were last at his yard, but it wasn’t difficult to find as you pulled up to the front gates, spotting Curly brushing one of the horses inside.
“Good afternoon, Curly.” You greeted, climbing out he car and walking towards him.
You watched as the man froze, hearing your voice before his head snapped in your direction, a grin spreading across his face.
“Miss Solomons! Tommy said you’d be dropping by, didn’t believe him at first.” He said causing you to chuckle softly. “I’m glad I was wrong.”
“Me too. Do you know where Tommy is hiding?”
“He’s out the back with the others, doing some target shooting.” The man answered and you nodded your thanks before you wandered around to the back of the yard.
It wasn’t hard to find them, not when you could hear the gunshots leading you straight to them. You walked around the back of one of the warehouses to find Tommy, Arthur and Johnny Dogs standing beside a man with a rifle.
That must be Tommy’s exception sniper.
“Friendly.” You called out, walking around the corner, not wanting to startle the sniper into accidently shooting you as you raised your hands.
The men all looked in your direction and Tommy’s face broke out into a smile when he saw you walking towards them.
“Is that Y/N Solomons?” You heard Johnny Dogs question in shock.
“It sure is.” Tommy said, taking a step towards you before he pulled you into a tight hug. “God I missed hugging you.”
You smiled, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you hugged him back before he kissed the top of your head and pulled away, his arm still wrapped around your shoulders, not wanting to let you go.
“Well, as I fucking live and breathe.” Arthur suddenly said, walking over to you. “Never thought I’d see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too, Arthur.” You replied with a smile. “I’m sorry about what happened last time I saw you.”
He just shook his head, “nah, that’s all water under the bridge, right, Tom? I should, uh, thank you for saving my life though. Woulda been dead if it wasn’t for you.”
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have been put in that situation if it wasn’t for my brother, so call it even.”
The eldest brother smiled, but nodded in agreement before you looked over at the other man who was kneeling behind a wooden crate that he was using as a mount for his bolt-action sniper.
“Barney, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is my friend, Barney Thompson, he’s an old comrade from France.” Tommy introduced, motioning towards the man sitting down.
“Nice to meet you.” You said, giving him a small smile.
Barney smiled shyly back, seeming a little overwhelmed with meeting a stranger, his eyes flicking between you and Tommy cautiously.
“Y/N is a good woman. I trust her with my life, and she’s going to be with you when you take the shot.” Tommy explained, trying to ease his old friends nerves.
“A fresh target is set up. Let’s see what you got.” Johnny Dogs suddenly said, walking back over after he finished nailing a new paper target to the barrel across the yard.
You stood back and watched as Barney grabbed the rifle, leaning on top of the crate to steady his aim before he squeezed the trigger.
From the distance, you had no idea where on the target he had hit, so Johnny Dogs jogged back over to the barrel and cheered, yelling that he had hit the bullseye.
“You didn’t need all them tablets. You just needed another fucking war, eh?” Tommy said, patting Barneys back happily as the man grinned, pleased with himself.
“What about you, Solomons? Think you can hit the target from this distance?” Arthur challenged, glancing over at you in amusement.
“That’s not even a question.” You responded, looking over at Barney who held the rifle up towards you.
You took the gun with a nod, but didn’t take Barneys place by the crate. Instead you just actioned the bolt, ejecting the empty casing before loading a bullet into the chamber.
Once Johnny Dogs had gotten out the line of fire, you raised the rifle, pressing the butt of the gun into your shoulder firmly before resting your cheek against the stock as you lined up the sights.
You heard Arthur mutter something along the lines of 'she’d never hit it free hand’ before you took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.
“You lads are never going to believe this!” Johnny Dogs shouted as he rushed over to the target, ripping the paper off the barrel and jogging back over to you, holding up the target so you all could see.
“She missed.” Arthur observed.
“Look again.” Barney said, staring at the target with wide eyes.
You couldn’t help but grin as Arthur and Tommy took a step towards the target, frowning in confusion, but you could pinpoint the exact moment they saw it as their heads snapped back towards you.
“Holy shit. She shot straight through Barneys bullet hole.” Arthur exclaimed, turning towards his brother, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder. “Don’t you let this girl go. She is fucking rare, Tom. Rare, I tell you.”
You chuckled softly at Arthurs reaction as Tommy looked over at you with soft eyes.
“I don’t plan on letting her go, Arthur. I made that mistake before, I won’t do it again.”
I’m sorry I vanished for a couple of months, but real life has been really kicking my ass lately and work has been stressing me out and I’m trying to apply for a new job which is also stressing me out and, yeah, just a lot of shit is going down atm but I’m trying to get back into the swing of things, so please be patient. I’m really trying.
Been obsessed with merman Alfie since @comebackjessicawrotethis amazing fic. So here is a lil merman Alfie taking a bath in the cabin like the king he is.
OH MY GOD BESTIE THIS IS EVERYTHINGGGGGGGGGGGGGG and the tail colours are so perfecttttt, look at my handsome merman
