The youngest Shelby sister was supposed to be the good one, the innocent one, but apparently sheās got some secrets of her own
Warnings: shelby!reader (unspecified as to whether she was adopted or not), nudity, protective Tommy, getting caught in the act (sex, sex is the act), mentions of unplanned pregnancies and castration
WC: 1.3k
Minors DNI
Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library
Ada knew something was wrong with her little sister- she was skittish, hiding her eyes beneath caps and behind her hair, and most telling of all, she stopped coming to family meetings. The final straw came when the elder Shelby sister sat at the kitchen table, sipping on a cold cup of tea as Karl slept in a small bassinet by her chair. He had been a pain all night so Ada had resorted to staying up, gently rocking him with her foot.
Dawn was just starting to break when the front door opened. Ada was perfectly positioned at the kitchen table to see her little sister, who had just turned 21, walk into the house dressed in a coat that was far too big to be hers with her shoes in her hands. The grin on her face was wide and dazed- Ada knew that look well. She smiled and went back to her tea.
When Y/N finally did stumble down the stairs, 10 minutes past noon, Ada and Pol lay in wait. āGood morning princess.ā She groaned in reply as she took the offered painkillers from her aunt. āHave a good night?ā Ada teased.
āWas fine, just had some drinks with the girls.ā Pol raised a dark eyebrow at her niece.Ā
āOh really. And I suppose it was one of your āgirlsā that gave you that bruise on your neck.ā Y/Nās eyes widened comically and her hand flew to her throat in an attempt to hide where her skin was discoloured. But after a moment, she sagged into one of the kitchen chairs, knowing that she was caught.
āYou wonāt tell Tommy will you?ā
Pol patted her hand lovingly. āTommy wonāt know until youāre ready to tell him but he will find out eventually. I think youāre old enough to have a couple secrets of your own.ā
āIt wonāt be a secret for long if you get pregnant.ā Ada murmured under her breath. Y/Nās head whipped around. Her eyes had that same dangerous gleam that Tommyās got when he was planning something big.
āI actually know how to pull out Ada.ā Pol choked on her tea, giving a very undignified snort that made her youngest niece beam.Ā
Ada rolled her eyes with a scoff. āAccidents happen.ā Y/Nās smile grew wider, her eyes scrunching with its size.
āSpeaking of, where is your little accident?ā Her chair clattered to the floor as Ada shot up and dashed to her little sister. Anticipating this, Y/N darted away at the last second. She bounced on her toes like she was contemplating some big decision and, flipped off her sister.Ā
āāāāāā
One of the few freedoms that Y/N was given in her adulthood was her own apartment, though until recently, she had not spent much time there, favouring the family home on Watery Lane. But whenever she was at her own place, there was the tiny little condition that her siblings and her aunt each had their own key, for emergencies as John and Arthur claimed. Yet they respected their sister enough not to make use of these keys, until today that is.
Tommy shuffled up to the front door, hat low on his head as the freezing rain pelted him. It had been a stupid idea, a walk to calm the storm in his mind as black clouds descended over Birmingham. So he found himself here, at the door of his youngest and arguably favourite sister.Ā
He jammed his finger into the doorbell, distantly hearing it ring from the partially open window above him. Yet, there was no movement inside. Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder, it was at least another hour to walk back to the Garrison, there was no way he was going home to face Pol without at least one drink. The cold metal of his keys stung his palm as he fished them from his pocket; Y/N wouldnāt mind the intrusion, in fact sheād probably feed him before sending him on his way.
His cheeks burned with the change in temperature as he stepped into the hallway. A heavy thump and then a loud groan of pain came from somewhere above his head. āY/N?ā He called out, but received no reply.Ā
Tommy didnāt even bother to hang up his coat, taking the stairs two at a time he reached the landing in no time and with no hesitation, he threw open the front door, hand on the butt of his gun, fully prepared to deal with whatever situation his little sister had been thrust into.
But maybe not this.
His sweet baby sister was kneeling on the floor, stark naked, her back facing him (thankfully) with an equally naked man laying between her legs, hands on her hips and an obviously broken couch behind them.
āTommy!ā She yelped, her arms darting up to cover her chest as he instinctively spun around and faced the wall. āWhat are you doing here?ā
āItās raining. Whoās the man?ā A deep chuckle soaked into the wallpaper, its familiarity almost mocking the gangster as his mood turned even more sour than it had been only minutes before. A soft slap followed, then the manās heavy footsteps vanished into the bedroom.
āNo one Tommy, just a boyfriend. You can turn around.ā A greatly oversized menās shirt concealed her body, the horrified expression on her face almost tugged at his heart strings, almost.
Tommy glared at her. āA boyfriend?ā His words came out as more of a growl, his anger mounting. It was one thing for Y/N to have picked up a boy from the Garrison or at the market, as much as he hated the thought of anyone even looking at her, but to have hidden a boyfriend from the family? From him?Ā
She fought back the urge to roll her eyes at her older brother. āYes. A boyfriend. You know, like most girls my age have.āĀ
āNot without my permission.ā Her gaze hardened.
āIām a grown woman Thomas.ā
āNot when you keep secrets from me.āĀ
āNow thatās rich coming from you.ā She scoffed. Tommyās eye twitched. āI think more than half of the things you have said to me my entire life have been you lying to keep some secret or another. Why am I not allowed to have some of my own?ā Her arms crossed over her chest, unwavering in her determination.
Tommy reached for his cigarettes but thought better of it. āThat was business.ā
Y/N opened her mouth to undoubtedly hit back at him with something clever that he would blame Polly for but before even a single sound had passed her lips, another voice rumbled through the small apartment, making his blood freeze.Ā
āWell itās a damn good thing this was a business meetin, wasnāt it darling?ā And suddenly, in his little sisterās living room, wearing only trousers and with a cigarette hanging from his lips, was Alfie Solomons.Ā
Tommyās head whipped over to Y/N who now had her head in her hands. āHim?ā Was all he could manage around the bubbling anger building in his throat. Alfie laughed and as if to add insult to the injury, wrapped a large arm around her waist, tugging her into his side. She refused to look at her brother, fixing her eyes firmly to the floor like she used to do when caught doing something she shouldnāt.
Alfie was practically beaming, gloating. āSheās done a very good job at keeping me secret from you. Even got me to hide in a fucking supply cubbord once.ā A vein in Tommyās head throbbed as he laid a palm over the butt of his gun.. āBut ey, you must be proud, passing on those strong genes. Sheāll be runnin circles around you in no time.ā
āAlfie, I will fucking kill you.ā She pleaded.
āItās in the blood aināt it? Canāt even imagine how sneaky our kids are gonna be considering our tendency to tell a little fib.ā
āIāll castrate you before that ever happens.ā Tommy growled and finally pulled his gun clear of the holster but Alfie didnāt even flinch. In fact the manās eyes sparkled with vindication.
Hey Cass! Gosh, long time no see on the dash, I hope youāre doing well darling š For the ask game, could I please have: abelia, camellia and nutmeg? xx
HIII, ALEX!!! Sending you love always, and I hope you're doing well yourself š
abeliaĀ ā¢Ā do you have a particular piece of jewellery you always wear or canāt part with?
I do!!! It's called a 'moko ponamu', which is a bone carving that my uncle made for me as a baby from a whale tooth that hangs off a piece of string and acts as a necklace ā¤ļø they're very common amongst my culture, as well as normal ponamu which are made from greenstone.
camelliaĀ ā¢Ā what were you like when you were younger? do you think youāve changed a lot?
I was a very quiet, shy, anxious, emotional little kid. I'm definitely still the same in some ways, tbh but I'm a lot more resilient than I was, and I've done a lot of work in regard to my social phobia over the years. honestly, I think younger me would be proud of present me for how far we've actually come š«
nutmegĀ ā¢Ā howās your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?
My room is honestly one big mess š Bc my mÄmÄ and I only rent the house we live in, I don't bother doing too much to it, and honestly, I'm super minimalist, so I feel like if I did decorate my room, I'd get overwhelmed š
orchid ā¢ whatās a song you consider to be perfect?
mahoniaĀ ā¢Ā what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?
orchid ā¢ whatās a song you consider to be perfect?:
OOF, as a massive music lover, this is a hard one for me. The one that just came to my head is: Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths
mahoniaĀ ā¢Ā what place, thing, activity inspires you most, and how do you express yourself when it does?
Music is definitely my biggest inspiration, I always listen to music whenever I'm doing anything tbh. Whether it be journaling, painting, drawing, art journaling, baking, etc.
Thank you for sending these wonderful asks, angel Cia š¤
orchid ā¢Ā whatās a song you consider to be perfect?
cactusĀ ā¢Ā something youāre currently learning (about)?
bambooĀ ā¢Ā do you change into a different outfit when you get home?
abeliaĀ ā¢Ā do you have a particular piece of jewelry you always wear or canāt part with?
daffodilĀ ā¢Ā do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think youāre similar to or different from them?
mahoniaĀ ā¢Ā what place, thing, activity inspires you most and how do you express yourself when it does?
chiaĀ ā¢Ā whatās an inside joke you have with someone else?
sageĀ ā¢Ā what āmediumā of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?
edelweissĀ ā¢Ā howād you think of your url/username? whatās it associated with to you?
camelliaĀ ā¢Ā what were you like when you were younger? do you think youāve changed a lot?
jasmineĀ ā¢Ā do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?
ivyĀ ā¢Ā what are your ātellsā for your emotions and moods? how can someone tell youāre happy, annoyed, upset or tired?
chamomileĀ ā¢Ā what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?
aloe veraĀ ā¢Ā whatās something (mundane) you really want to experience in life?
palm treeĀ ā¢Ā do you have a fictional villain you shouldnāt like but love regardless?
nutmegĀ ā¢Ā howās your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?
papyrusĀ ā¢Ā if you put your āon repeatā playlist on shuffle, whatās the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?
taroĀ ā¢Ā if someone called you right now to catch up, whatāre the things youād tell them about?
Can you please make an Alfie Solomons story where readerās father is in debt and Alfie owes huge amount of money from the readerās father. But readerās father is greedy and canāt afford money to pay off his debts. So he convinces Alfie to marry his daughter in exchange of debt. His daughter/ reader is virgin, religious jew, does every household choresā¦ and Alfie also liked her from the time he saw her. But reader is shy and doesnāt want to get married to a gangster like Alfieā¦ so itās a forced marriage story. Please can you make it?
āOwed and Ownedā
Alfie Solomons x f!Reader
Alfieās Masterlist Join the tag list
Summary: Maybe the monster you thought you were forced to marry has more humanity than you ever imagined.
WC: 9.9k (long af, ik, im soooorry)
Warning/Tags: smut, minors DNI, forced marriage, dirty talk, virginity loss, fingering, unprotected piv, slight dubcon at one point (dry humping), period-accurate misogyny.
The bakery reeked of yeast and damp wood and the stink of something that didnāt belong in a place where bread was supposed to be made. The men standing at the edges of the room, stiff and silent, confirmed your suspicion, this wasnāt just a bakery, this was Alfie Solomonsā kingdom, and you were a lamb dragged into the lionās den.
He didnāt look up at first, you stood in the middle of the room like a piece of meat being offered to him, cloaked in your fatherās debt, no name of your own, just a fucking transaction. The door shut behind you as his men left the room, leaving you and your father alone with him, and only then did Alfie glance up from whatever he was writing.
And when he saw you, he paused.
āRight,ā he said finally, voice gravelled and sardonic, āyouāre the bloody dowry, yeah?ā
You flinched at the word.
He rose slowly, like an old bear from hibernation, shoulders broad beneath his waistcoat, beard thick and unruly, eyes sharp despite the faint squint of his age. You knew the name Solomons, everyone did, but nothing had prepared you for the man.
Your father stepped forward, flustered and sweating, like his life depended on this agreement going well, because in a way, it did. āNow Alfie, like I said, sheāsāsheās a good girl. Quiet. Can cook and clean. And sheāll be loyal, I swear it.ā
āRight. And sheās clean, yeah? No bloody clap? No surprises down there?ā He made a vague, circling gesture with his fingers that somehow managed to feel both vulgar and clinical.
Your father stammered, paling now. āOf course! Nothing like that.ā
Alfie hummed, eyes still locked on yours. āCan you talk, or did he gag you for the ride?ā
Your mouth opened, then shut. You couldn't find words to say in a moment like this, when you were being handed off like nothing but property, practically being sold, and to a dangerous man like Alfie Solomons, no less.
He tilted his head. āYeah, I thought not. You lot always go quiet when itās me in the fuckinā room, donāt you?ā
Your father let out a nervous chuckle, but Alfie held up a hand to quiet him.
āNo. Shut up.ā He walked toward you, the thump of his cane dragging behind him like punctuation. āSo hereās the thing, love. Your old man, he owes me more than heās got. WhichānormallyāIād collect in blood, but he made me an offer. You.ā
He reached out and brushed his knuckles along your jaw, not gentle, but not cruel either, more like he was testing you.
āI donāt usually take wives, darlinā,ā he said, voice low now. āI take respect, I take fuckinā tributes, right, and I take silence. But he said you were gorgeous and now that I see youā¦ā
His fingers drifted to your chin and tilted it upward.
āYou look like youād make a very fine little trophy. And Iām tired of sleepin' alone.ā
You slapped his hand away and suddenly the room went still, the only audible sound was the gasp that left your father's mouth, you knew he was praying internally that you wouldnāt ruin this, that you wouldnāt do or say something smart that would get Alfie pissed off enough to walk away from the deal.
But Alfie didn't seem to mind, he just smiledāwide, feral, pleased.
āOhhh, youāve got bite, yeah?ā He laughed then, full and rich, and turned toward your father. āI like her, yeah, I do.ā
āDoes that mean youāllā?ā
āYeah, yeah. Iāll marry her. But Iām not doinā no fuckinā white weddin', right? Just papers. Done and dusted. Sheāll be Mrs. Solomons by the end of the week. That work for you, love?ā
You stared at him ompletely defeated, your voice so low it could barely be heard. āI didnāt agree to this.ā
āNo,ā Alfie said, stepping close again, his voice suddenly sharp, ābut he did. And see in my world, love, when a man settles a debt with a gift, I donāt ask if the giftās got opinions.ā
He let that sink in.
āBut youāve got spirit, donāt you? And if youāre clever, youāll use it. Not against me, though. Not against your husband.ā You swallowed and he leaned closer. āYeah, youāll realize that beinā my wife comes withā¦ perks. Nobody touches whatās mine. Not even God.ā
You didnāt cry. You didnāt scream. There was no point in that, you knew since the day you were born that life wasn't fair, and that sometimes you just had to do what needed to be done, so you just stood there, spine straight, chin up, like maybe defiance could save you.
You told your father no more than a thousand times. You told him every night after that cursed meeting at the bakery, with your throat raw from begging and screaming, eyes burning with tears he never acknowledged. But it didnāt matter, the debt still hung around his neck like a noose, and being the selfish man he had always been, he saw you as a lighter rope to throw over the beam.
The morning of the wedding, you werenāt allowed out of your room. Your dress wasnāt white, Alfie said white was ābollocks,ā told the tailor you werenāt a virgin, āācause no woman with that mouth is, right?ā Your father had laughed. You hadnāt, you knew the truth.
Instead, your dress was deep green velvet, heavy and expensive, Alfie'd said he didn't want his future wife to look like a tart he'd picked up from around the corner. You stood in front of the mirror, hands trembling as you fastened the last button, you didnāt look like a bride, you looked like a girl in a costume, playing a part in a tragedy someone else had written.
The car came at noon, you didnāt try to run, what was the point? You had no place to go.
The registrarās office smelled like old paper and damp wood, and when you looked back at how you thought the day of your wedding would be like as a girl, you would've never imagined this. Alfie was already there, leaning on his cane, arms crossed over his chest like a king waiting for tribute. No suit, no flower in his lapel, just that long coat, gloves tucked into one hand, and eyes that tracked you like you were already branded.
You didnāt speak to him, didnāt even look at him, but he didnāt seem to mind at all.
āāS about fuckinā time,ā he muttered when you entered, loud enough for you to hear. āThought maybe youād done somethinā clever and run off. Then I remembered youāre your fatherās daughter, and clever donāt run in that fuckinā family.ā
You said nothing.
āBut beauty does, innit?ā Alfie muttered, his gaze was lewd, no shame in it as he bit his bottom lip. āYou look fuckinā delightful, love.ā
The clerk asked if you were ready, Alfie grunted and replied for you. You just stayed silent.
They asked you to repeat the vows and you hesitated.
āGo on, love,ā Alfie drawled from beside you, voice low and curling like smoke in your ear. āAināt gonna get easier from now on, is it?ā
Your voice cracked on the last word, husband, it tasted like ash, like it wasn't real. You were married in fifteen minutes. You didnāt kiss, he didn't even try to, just took the signed certificate, folded it neatly into his coat, and nodded like a deal had been closed, like a transaction being completed.
āRight,ā he said to the room. āThatās that, then.ā
You stood frozen as he offered you his arm, you didnāt take it and he didn't pressed, probably not wanting to cause a scene in the middle of the place.
He just glanced at the clerk and said, loud and dry, āPoor girlās in mournin', mate. She just married a gangster, didnāt she?ā
The ride back to Camden was silent, your hands clenched the velvet of your skirt until your knuckles went white. Alfie sat beside you, relaxed, like heād just come from a business lunch and not a forced wedding. He kept glancing at you, out the window, then back at you.
āYouāre angry,ā he said finally.
You didnāt answer.
āI get that. Itāsā¦ understandable.ā
Still nothing, not a single word coming out of your mouth, maybe they could force you to get married, but they couldn't force you to speak.
He tilted his head, watching you.
āYou think I donāt know what Iāve done, love? Think I aināt aware of what this is?ā
Now he got your attention, you turned your head slowly. āThen why do it?ā
His eyes darkened. āBecause your old manās a coward. And Iām not.ā
āI offered him ways out,ā Alfie continued, quieter now. āMore than I usually do, in fact. Coulda paid in blood. Coulda worked it off. But he chose you. And I thoughtāwell, fuck it. He donāt see your valueāI will.ā
āYou think owning me makes you better than him?ā
His nostrils flared. āNo. I think it makes me smarter.ā
You shook your head and turned back to the window, eyes stinging as you tried not to let the tears spill from your eyes.
āI donāt want this,ā you whispered.
Alfie was silent for a long moment. Then:
āYeah. I know. But itās done now, innit? Inkās dry.ā
When you crossed the threshold into his sprawling, low-lit house in Camden, something in the air shifted.
It was final. It was real now. You two were married.
He led you through high halls that smelled of smoke and old books, leather chairs and dark wood, showing you the place, your new home. It was warm, but you felt cold, detached from your own skin. Your head couldn't focus on the tour of the house Alfie was giving you, you had bigger concerns in your mind, like what was gonna happen once the tour was over, once the time to go to bed arrived.
When you reached a wide oak door at the end of the hall, Alfie paused, glanced over his shoulder, and opened it with a push.
The bedroom. One massive bed, covered in dark wool and heavy pillows, fire already lit in the hearth.
He looked back at you, voice quieter now. āSo, this is it.ā
āI uh... I thought Iād have my own room.ā
āNo,ā Alfie said simply. āYouāre my wife. That means one bed.ā
You looked at the bed like it might burn you alive.
His voice dropped lower. āYou knew this part was cominā, yeah?ā
You nodded slowly. You weren't stupid, you knew what men wanted, you knew what a man like Alfie wanted. To consummate the marriage. To fuck.
But you also knew what you were, a virgin, pure and never touched before. And you didn't trust Alfie to be the gentle type of man.
Alfie moved toward the bed, loosening the collar of his shirt, watching you from the corner of his eye. āNow listen, love, I aināt expectinā fireworks tonight, alright, but I do expect my wife to sleep in my bed. Youāre mine now. Thatās not just fuckinā legalāitās real. And I donāt like sleepinā alone. So why don't you start gettin' that dress off, yeah? Lay back and get comfortable.ā
His voice wasnāt angry, just firm and steady, like heād already made peace with whatever this was.
You stood rooted to the floor, heart thudding like hooves in your chest. āAnd if I say no?ā
He looked over at you, head tilted. āThen Iāll ask you why, yeah? Because Iām not a fuckinā animal. But I am your husband now, and I think you know damn well what comes with that.ā
You tried to keep your voice steady. āIām a virgin.ā
Alfie froze. His hands, which had been pulling at the zipper of his pants, stopped moving.
Then: āCome again?ā
You lifted your chin. āI said Iām a virgin.ā
Alfie let out a low, dark chuckle, eyebrows shooting up like he couldn't believe what you were telling him. "Right, you a virgin? Yeah, and I'm the bloody King of fuckin' England, ain't I?"
"I'm serious, Alfie. I'm not lying."
"There's no way you're a fuckin' virgin," he muttered. "Look at you, build like fuckin' sin in a body."
For a moment, Alfie just stared at you, expression unreadable, like part of him didn't quite believe it, but once he looked at your eyes he could tell that you weren't lying. He blinked, slowly, like the weight of your words had knocked the wind from him.
āJesus fuckinā Christ,ā he muttered, running a hand over his beard. āYour dear father didnāt mention that.ā
Your stomach twisted. āWould it have made a difference?ā
He laughedābut not cruelly. It was low, surprised, and tinged with something you didnāt recognize. āMaybe. Maybe Iād have reconsidered takinā a bride who donāt know the fuckinā basics.ā
You flinched, feeling ashamed all of a sudden, for some reason his words hitted you harder than you had expected. But Alfie saw it, and something shifted in his gaze.
āOi. Look at me.ā
You didnāt.
āLove,ā he said, voice a bit gentler now. āI aināt mad. Justā¦ Jesus. A fuckinā virgin? What lies had your father been feedinā me, eh? So pretty and a virgin, fuck me.ā
You swallowed. āI didnāt have a choice. My life wasnāt mine to begin with.ā
āNever even sucked a cock?ā
You shook your head slowly, keeping it down so you wouldn't have to face the weight of his gaze on you.
Silence. Then a sigh.
āAlright,ā he muttered, walking past you to the side table, pouring himself a glass of something dark and strong. He drank it in one go, then turned back to you. āThatāsā¦ a fuckinā curveball, innit.ā
"I didn't mean to keep it a secret."
āYouāre scared. I get it. You didnāt ask for this. And Iām not here to make your life harder than it already is. I aināt gonna take what aināt offered. I donāt do that. I might be a lot of things, love, but I aināt a bloody fuckinā monster.ā
You blinked, startled by the way his voice changed, it was softer, no less coarse, but less performative.
āBut I wonāt lie to you either,ā he went on. āYouāre mine now. You sleep in my bed. I donāt give a fuck what you thought marriage would look like, this aināt some pretty little fantasy. This is real. We are real. And yeahāat some point, Iāll take whatās mine. But not like this. Not when you look like youāre about to fuckinā bolt.ā
You stood there, frozen between gratitude and humiliation, shame curdling in your gut like spoiled milk. You didn't want to sleep with him, but for some strange reason his rejection wounded your pride.
āSo what now?ā you asked quietly. āYou wait a day? A week?ā
Alfie set his glass down.
āNo,ā he said simply. āI wait ātil you say yes.ā
You stared at him with desbelief.
āDonāt mistake me, love,ā he added, stepping closer. āIāll want you. Every night Iāll think about it. But I wonāt force it. āCause once Iāve got you under me, yeah? I want you there because you chose to be. Because you finally realized this worldās mad, and maybe the devil you married aināt the worst fuckinā monster in it.ā
You didnāt answer, you didnāt move, but when he stripped off his clothes and sat down on the bed, legs wide, arms resting on his thighs, you didnāt run either. You walked slowly to the other side and sat on the edge of the bed, eyes closed, as you whispered your nighttime prayers, each word meant only for God to hear, until Alfie broke it with his graveled murmur.
āWhat you mumblinā about, then?ā
You didnāt open your eyes, bit down on your tongue before answering.
āIām praying,ā you said, voice calm, like you were still somewhere far away. āYou donāt pray?ā
āWhat for?ā Alfie scoffed. āAlready got everythin' I want. Thoughā¦ā he drawled, tone turning wicked, āmaybe I oughta ask Him for a wife who actually wants to fuck.ā
You didnāt say anything, he just grinned to himself.
āYou reckon thatās blasphemy?ā he went on. āSāpose I should consult at the synagogue next time, yeah?ā
āI thoughtā¦ wellā¦ I thought religion would be more important to you.ā
āIt is,ā he said, voice quieter now, less smug. He shrugged one shoulder. āJust donāt need to bloody pray every night, do I?ā
He said it simply, like it wasnāt a contradiction. āHelp the synagogue, donate to charity, give the lads jobs,ā he muttered. āDonāt mean I need to be on my knees whisperinā in Hebrew before bed. Faithās not about sayinā the words, itās about how you live.ā
You stared at him for a long beat, he was unrepentant, not angry, just unapologetically himself, after a few minutes you laid down, fully clothed, feeling the mattress shift as he lay beside you. He didnāt reach for you that night, didnāt speak, but long after you thought he was asleep, his voice came, low and sure in the dark:
āWhen youāre ready, yeah? You let me know.ā
The silence in the house wasnāt empty, it was watching. Waiting.
So you busied yourself, that way you wouldn't have time to think. You scrubbed the floors, pressed linen, learned how to use the stove without scorching your hands. Started folding his shirts in the way he seemed to like, creased at the collar, sleeves flat, no starch. You began baking, not for him though, you told yourself, but for the house. For something warm to fill the void.
You started speaking to the housekeeper, then the grocer, then the boy who delivered the coal. Your voice didnāt tremble quite so much anymore.
You had stopped crying into your pillow.
That wasā¦ progress.
And Alfieāhe noticed.
He didnāt say anything outright, but the way he looked at you changed. He watched you when you didnāt notice, when you pulled your hair back to knead dough, when you walked barefoot into the sun-warmed conservatory to dust the shelves, when you came home from the market with your cheeks flushed from the wind.
One night, while you peeled potatoes at the kitchen table, he leaned in the doorway and said nothing at all for a long, long time, just watched you work.
Eventually:
āYouāre good at that.ā
You looked up. āPeeling potatoes?ā
He shrugged. āYeah, and makinā a place feel lived in.ā
You blinked. Thatā¦ almost sounded like praise, but you didnāt thank him, just kept peeling. He didnāt move.
The next morning, there was a new necklace on your dressing table, shiny and expensive, you didnāt wear it, but you didnāt throw it away either.
Two weeks later, it was raining, one of those endless downpours that went on for days. You lit candles in the sitting room and curled under a blanket with a book, determined not to watch the door like a soldier waiting for a breach.
When Alfie came in, soaked and steaming from the cold, you didnāt flinch, just looked up and raised a brow.
āCoat,ā you said.
He blinked in confusion.
āYouāre dripping all over my clean floor. Hang it up, or take it off and Iāll dry it.ā
He smiled, not in his typical smug and amused way, no, this smile was a soft one.
He shrugged off the coat, hung it on the rack, and then hesitated for a second before speaking. āYou readinā anythin' good, then?ā
You held up the book. āMurder mystery.ā
āAny good ones in it?ā
āNo murders yet.ā
He chuckled. āBit slow, then.ā
You rolled your eyes. āNot everything has to happen in the first few pages, sometimes you enjoy it more when you have to wait for it.ā
He paused, thinking about what you said. And then he stepped closer, making the room feel smaller, the silence deafening.
You set the book down slowly and watched him with wary eyes as he sat down beside you, keeping his distance but still there. You could smell the cold on his skin, the faint tang of tobacco, the ghost of something herbal on his collar.
āIāve been watchinā you a lot lately,ā he said at last.
āI know, I've noticed.ā
āYouāve been tryinā, even though you hate it here.ā
āI donāt hate it here.ā
He turned his head. āDo you hate me?ā
Silence.
Then: āSometimes.ā
His breath caught. But he nodded.
āThatās fair,ā he murmured.
It was well past two in the morning when you heard the front door slam. The sound ricocheted through the house like a warning bell, heavy boots on old floorboards, a muffled curse, something glass breaking somewhere near the kitchen.
You sat up in bed, already knowing.
Alfie was drunk.
It wasnāt rare, He had come come home drunk a few other times before. But thisāthis sounded worse.
You hadnāt seen him since the morning. Just a brief grunt at breakfast, his beard brushing your cheek like an accidental promise, and then gone. Off to do God-knows-what with the kind of men who didnāt return home at all.
But he did, loudly.
You waited. You didnāt call for him. You didnāt get up.
And stillāhe came.
The door burst open so fast the handle hit the wall, and there he was: Alfie, eyes wild, cheeks flushed, coat half off, shirt wrinkled, and reeking of whisky and sweat and smoke.
āYouāre awake,ā he muttered, voice rougher than usual, like heād chewed gravel all the way home.
You didnāt answer, you only stared, heart kicking in your ribs.
He leaned in the doorway, blinking slow. āFuckinā missed you.ā
You raised a brow. āYouāre drunk.ā
āYeah,ā he said, and chuckled, low and dry. āThat obvious, innit?ā
Then he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him, and locking it.
Your breath caught. āWhat are you doing?ā
He didnāt answer at first, he dragged a hand through his beard, eyes dragging over you where you sat in bed in nothing but your nightdress. The way his gaze darkened made your stomach twist.
āAlfieāā
āYou look so soft tonight,ā he murmured. āWarm.ā
āI aināt gonna fuck you,ā he said quickly when he noticed the way your eyes widened, his voice was still harsh. āDonāt get scared. I remember what I said. I said I wouldnāt do it ātil you asked me to. Right?ā
You nodded slowly, back pressing into the headboard.
āRight,ā he breathed, pacing at the foot of the bed like a caged thing. āBut I want to. Fuckinā hell, I need to.ā
You swallowed hard. āThen go to your office. Sleep it off.ā
His head snapped toward you. āDonāt want to sleep it off. Want to sleep here. Want to be next to you, want to fuckināāā He broke off, jaw tightening, knuckles white where his hands clenched at his sides. āāwant to fuckin' touch my wife, put my mouth on every inch of you, love. Want to make you sob for it.ā
You didnāt move, you didnāt tell him to stop. And maybe that was the mistake, because in the next breath, Alfie was at the side of the bed, kneeling on the mattress, crawling toward you with something dangerous in his eyes, something desperate, devout.
āYou know I want you, yeah?ā His voice was rough, slurred but clear enough. āThink about you all the fuckinā time. In my head. In my hand.ā He chuckled darkly, lips brushing the space just below your ear. āLike a bloody schoolboy.ā
He climbed over you, one arm braced above your head, the other trembling where it gripped the sheets, he was so heavy you couldn't move if you tried. You could smell the liquor on him, bitter and sharp, but under itāhim. Heat. Skin. Man.
āAlfieā¦ā
āNo, no, I know.ā He exhaled against your neck. āYou havenāt said yes. I fuckinā remember.ā
And yet he rocked his hips forward, slow and deliberate. Hot pressure through too much fabric, making you feel the shape of him, thick and hard straining his trousers, leaking through the front of his pants. He hissed at the friction, head dropping to your neck. You gasped at the feeling, it was strange, something you've never felt before.
āFuckinā look at me,ā he growled, grinding forward just a fraction more. āYou feel that? Thatās what you do to me. Every night. Every fuckinā day I donāt touch you, I get worse. You got me walkinā around half-mad, wife.ā
He rutted against you again, the thick bulge in his trousers dragging along the curve of your thighs, making you feel the way his cock ached for you, how the damp patch where his tip was grew, warm and wet through the fabric, starting to get your thighs wet with his pre-cum as well.
You were still clothed, he was still clothed, but it didnāt matter, his breath hitched with every slow grind. You felt the heat, the need pouring off him in waves. His hand stayed planted on the mattress beside you, clenched into a fist.
āChrist, Iām wound tight tonight,ā he growled. āYouāve got no idea. Fuckinā months without layinā a hand on anyone. You know what that does to a man? Got all these animals in my head tellinā me to take whatās mine, yeah? But I donāt. I wonāt. I made a promise.ā
His lips grazed your collarbone. āDonāt wanna hurt you. Donāt wanna break nothinā. Wonāt fuck you,ā he said, more to himself than to you, as if trying to make his drunk brain remember the promise he had made. āWonāt even touch you there. You didnāt say yes, so I donāt fuckinā take. But fuck, I need this. Just this, alright? Let me have this, and I wonāt ask for more. Not ātil you give it.ā
He didn't wait for you to answer, he just rutted harder.
Not fast, not frantic. But deep, controlled, like he was trying to burn the edge off a craving without giving in fully. His hands shook where they gripped the pillow on either side of your head. He wasnāt being cruel, wasn't kissing you, wasnāt groping, wasn't trying to thrust against your entrance, he was just grinding, burying the weight of his clothed cock between your thighs, breathing like a man being smothered, rubbing himself off on your body like an animal in heat, moaning through gritted teeth
āFuckfuckfuckāā he gritted, teeth clenched. āFeels so goodāGod, youāre warmāfuckināāā
You whimpered beneath him, helpless and frozen as his weight pinned you down.
Then his hands found your breasts. Big, rough palms cupping you through the thin nightdress, thumbs dragging over your nipples until they peaked under the fabric. He gripped them like they grounded him, like he might lose what little control he had left without the weight of you in his hands.
āFuckinā perfect tits,ā he gasped. āFuck, these titsāll ruin me.ā
Your name left his lips like a prayer, and you didnāt say stop, you never asked him to.
One last rut forward, hips jerking once, and you felt it, the way his body stilled, the sudden heat against your hip, wet and thick and unmistakably filthy, soaking through both layers of fabric. He had cum against you. Right there, fully clothed, grinding on your body like a man possessed.
His arms trembled and his breath caught. Then a full-body shudder ran through him, a final, broken exhale against your throat, like you'd given him enough pleasure, even without doing anything, to keep him satisfied through the night.
He collapsed over you, breathing like heād just run a marathon.
You laid there, stunned, heart pounding as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, limp with exhaustion, cock still twitching in the mess heād made in his pants.
āFuck,ā he whispered hoarsely. āThat felt nice.ā
You said nothing, and yet, you didnāt push him away, you tried to convince yourself that it was because he weighted too much, but maybe it was because part of you wanted to be close to him.
His breathing slowed, body growing heavy over yours, one large hand slid up to rest over your ribs, thumb grazing the curve of your breast.
And then he fell asleep. Spent, drunk, quiet, still on top of you, trapping you under his body.
All you could do was lie there in the dark, burning beneath himāconfused, achingābecause you were furious that heād used you like that, used your body to get off, didnāt even ask, didnāt even wait for your permission to use you like a fucking pillow, he just spilled on you like it was nothing and fell asleep on top of you like some overgrown, exhausted animal.
But you also wished heād broken his promise and just taken you right then and there. Youād felt everything, the way he held back, the way he shook, the way he moaned your name like it hurt him not to bury himself inside you and fuck you until you cried.
And part of you wanted it. Desperately wanted it.
When you woke up the next morning, it took a moment to register the heat of his body, the weight of the man still on top of you.
Alfie.
Your body ached, skin stuck to the sheets where his sweat had soaked through. His beard scraped your throat as he breathed, mouth open against your pulse.
The events of the night came rushing back like a fist to the gut. The grinding. The touches. The groans. The way he came, right there, without ever taking off your clothes.
A wave of disgust, rage, and something more treacherousāshameāboiled up in your chest.
You shoved at him. āGet off.ā
He groaned, half-asleep and barely coherent. āMmāno. Sācold over there.ā
āAlfie.ā
You pushed harder, and he rolled with a heavy grunt, flopping onto his back with an arm flung across his face. The sheets slipped low over his hips, revealing the damp front of his trousers, making you grimace.
You sat up, shoved your nightdress down your thighs, and swung your legs out of bed with a sharp breath. āYou promised.ā
A groggy noise from behind you. āDidnāt fuckinā break it, did I?ā
You spun. āYou used me.ā
He blinked blearily through the hangover fog. āWhat?ā
āLast night.ā Your voice shook now. āYou got on top of me, Alfie. You humped me like a goddamn dog and then justāpassed out like I didnāt matter.ā
He sat up fast, teeth bared. āYouāre my wife.ā
You flinched at the word, his jaw clenched at your reaction, and his voice dropped low and guttural. āI didnāt fuck you. I wanted to, yeah, fuckinā hell, youāve no idea how badābut I kept my fuckinā promise, didnāt I? I didnāt put me cock in you, I didnāt even pull your clothes off, Iāā
āYou came on me!,ā you hissed.
He paused. āYeah. I fuckinā did. Because Iāve got a wife that wonāt let me touch her, and Iām going out of my mind, alright? Every day you walk around in those little fuckinā dresses, all soft and sweet and terrified of me like Iām some beast in the atticāyeah, forgive me, love, if I lose myself a little.ā
You stepped back like heād slapped you. āYou are a beast.ā
He laughed sharp and bitter. āCourse I am. And youāre the sacrificial lamb, yeah? Dragged to the altar by your precious daddy so Iād forgive his debts and leave his balls intact.ā
āI never asked you to marry me.ā
āAnd I never asked to be punished every night by a virgin wife too proud to admit she wants me back!ā
That silenced you, because deep down, you knew he was right.
He stood, staggering slightly, and you were instantly too aware of his size, his naked chest where the shirt was hanging open, the sheer heat that poured off him like smoke from a forge. He walked toward youāslow, dangerous.
You didnāt move.
āI couldāve given two fucks whether you wanted it or not,ā he said lowly, voice like gravel, thick with threat and truth. āCouldāve had you cryinā and begginā ātil the neighbors think Iām killinā youāand still I wouldnātāve stopped. You know why? āCause itās my right, yeah? As your fuckinā husband. Mine to take whenever I please. I couldāve fucked you, couldāve split you open with me cock. But Iām tryinā to be a gentleman here. Iām not a monster whoād take you against your will.ā
You shook your head in anger, looking at him as if he was that monster he was trying so hard to deny he was.
āFUCK!ā he shouted, punching the wardrobe so hard it splintered. āFuckinā Christ.ā
You flinched, not from fear, but from the sound, from the violence he was trying not to aim at you.
He pointed a shaking finger at you. āYou ever want me like thatāproperlyāyou say it. Cause I'm losin' my fuckin' mind here, love. But donāt lie to yourself. Donāt pretend youāre takinā a man whoās gentle. I aināt. Iām a gangster. Iām a beast. And Iāve been good. Iāve been so fuckinā goodābut Iām slippinā, love.ā
You looked away, you felt confused and overwhelmed.
āIām not sorry for wantinā you,ā he said quietly. āBut I am sorry if I scared you.ā
His hand rose, hovered near your jaw, then stopped. āTell me to fuck off,ā he whispered. āAnd I will.ā
Silence.
Your voice, when it came, was barely audible: āI hate you.ā
He nodded slowly. āYeah. Well. Thatās somethinā.ā Without another word, he turned and left the room barefoot and half-dressed.
You stayed frozen, feeling agry and confused
But worst of allāaroused.
You didnāt speak to him for three days. Not a word.
Not even when he brought you breakfast and left it on your nightstand with a muttered grunt. Not when he started knocking before entering the bedroom, even though it was technically his. Not even when you caught himātwiceālingering outside the library, watching you read like a feral dog might eye a piece of meat he wasnāt allowed to touch.
And Alfie, for once in his life, took it. He didnāt push or yell, or drown the loneliness in a drink, which worried you more than it should have.
You werenāt expecting flowers or an apology in ink. You werenāt even sure what you wanted from him, if anything. But on the fourth morning, you came downstairs to find something new. A loaf of bread sitting on the counter, charred black on one side.
And a note.
āTried to bake this for you, right. Turns out ovens are tricky bastards. You donāt have to eat it, but Iād be very fuckinā flattered if you at least threw it at my head.ā
āAlfie (your husband, allegedly)
You stared at it, then stared at the hunk of ruined bread, too burnt at the edges, not looking inviting at all.
Thenā¦ almostāalmostāsmiled.
You didnāt throw it, but you didnāt eat it either.
Later that evening, you walked past the study, and caught him talking to Cyril.
āNow listen, mate,ā Alfie murmured to the big dog sprawled across the rug. āShe hates me now, yeah, and thatās fair. I did a bit of aā¦ a madness, right? A misstep, as the posh cunts would say. But what the fuck do I do, Cyril? She donāt like flowers. Donāt like whisky. Donāt like meā¦ā
You paused in the hall, heart thudding at how endearingly sweet the scene was.
āCanāt go buy her a bloody diamond every week I fuck up. Not ātil she lets me touch her, at least. Thatād be bad economics.ā
Cyril sneezed.
āExactly,ā Alfie said. āUngrateful little thing, yeah?ā
Another sneeze.
āā¦Yeah, alright, mate. That was out of line.ā
You left before he saw you, but two days later, there was a folded note tucked beneath your pillow.
āWhat did the grape say when it got stepped on? Nothing. It just let out a little wine.ā
The handwriting was careful, as if heād practiced it. Lately he'd decided that the best way to win a woman back wasn't by baking burnt bread for her, but perhaps by making her laugh, so every time he was around you he told you a joke, each one worse than the other, most of them not even making sense at all, stuff only Alfie would find amusing.
You refused to laugh, every single time. You absolutely refused. But at breakfast, Alfie caught your eye and held your gaze a moment too long.
He smirked. āTold you it was a fuckinā good joke.ā
You rolled your eyes. āYouāre an idiot.ā
He blinked, Sitting up straighter. āWas thatādid you just speak to me?ā
āI insulted you.ā
āYeah, but you spoke, didnāt you?ā
You stabbed your eggs with a fork. āDonāt make it a moment.ā
He grinned. āToo late. Burned it into my memory already, love.ā
You tried not to look amused. Failed, maybe, just a little. Alfie didnāt press it, but he did hum under his breath as he ate, some old tune you couldnāt place. And when he got up to leave the table, he paused beside your chair, his hand brushed your shoulder, just once, just barely.
āYou wanna throw that bread at me now, by the way,ā he murmured, āyouāre welcome to. Still got the bruise on my pride.ā
You looked up at him, and for once, he looked almost human, almost like a man you could sympathize with.
One night, he stepped in while you read on the couch.
āAny good?ā he asked, nodding toward the book in your lap.
You didnāt look up. āItās fine.ā
āRomance?ā
āCrime.ā
He chuckled, then walked slowly toward the fire and knelt, stacking logs with surprising grace for a man whose hands had likely broken skulls. āYou ever read any of the Sherlock Holmes stuff?ā he asked casually.
You blinked. āYes.ā
āI liked that Watson fella. Didnāt seem like a tosser. And he had a wife, right? Mustāve meant he was halfway tolerable.ā
You fought the corner of your mouth twitching upward. āYou donāt need to be tolerable to have a wife, apparently.ā
That earned a low grunt. He lit the fire, the glow casting flickers of gold across the sharp lines of his face, for a moment, he didnāt look at you.
Then he stood, brushing ash from his palms with deliberate slaps. āYeah, well,ā he said, turning toward you with a glint in his eye, ālucky for you, I never claimed to be tolerable.ā
He didnāt sit, not yet. Just hovered near the hearth, like a lost little puppy, eyes flickering between the flames and you.
āWould you mind terribly,ā he said at last, āif I sit here?ā
You sighed but nodded toward the armchair opposite yours. āItās your house.ā
His eyes narrowed, smile playing on his mouth. āItās our house.ā
You didnāt respond, but you didnāt correct him again either.
He sank into the armchair with a groan, stretching out like a lion basking in heat. āFuckinā knees are shite lately,ā he muttered.
āProbably from years of kneeling on peopleās necks.ā
That made him bark a laugh. āYouāre funny when youāre cruel,ā he said. āAlmost makes me hard.ā
You rolled your eyes. āJesus, Alfie.ā
āWhat?ā he shrugged. āI said almost. Iām being respectful. Practicinā restraint, yeah?ā
āMm-hmm.ā
Silence fell again, but it wasnāt as brittle this time.
He said, quieter: āYou used to flinch when I came near.ā
Your fingers tensed on the pages of your book.
āI still see it, sometimes. That little breath you hold.ā
You swallowed hard. āMaybe I still donāt fully trust you.ā
āThatās fair.ā He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze steady. āBut I think you want to.ā
You met his eyes. He was right, and that made you angry, because he could see you too well.
You stood abruptly. āIām going to bed.ā
He followed, of course he followed, but when you reached the bedroom door, he didnāt push past you, he just waited again, watching you.
You slipped inside and he came in after, slower, quieter than ever. You moved to your side of the bed, pulled your nightdress over your head and slipped beneath the covers, back to him.
Alfie changed with his usual graceless mutteringābuttons, belts, boots hitting the floor with heavy thuds. And then the mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed in beside you, your body stiffened, he was closer than usual, not touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.
He exhaled. āCan I touch your hand?ā
You blinked in the dark. āWhat?ā
āJust your hand. Nothinā filthy. Justā¦ touch.ā
It was so absurdly gentle, it almost hurt.
āā¦Fine,ā you murmured, turning around to face him now.
A long pause, and then warm, rough fingers brushed against yours beneath the sheets. His palm slid beneath your hand, letting your fingers rest lightly atop his., you could feel him trembling. Just barely.
āYou cold?ā you asked before you could stop yourself.
āNo,ā he said softly. āJust nervous.ā
You looked at him, his face was barely visible in the low moonlight, but he was watching you steadily.
āIām not a romantic man,ā he said. āNot by nature. But Iāve been tryinā, yeah? To beā¦ somethinā close to it.ā
You didnāt speak, he took your silence as a sign to lean in closer to you, not close enough to kiss, just close enough that his breath ghosted your cheek.
āMay I ask you somethinā?ā
āā¦What?ā
His voice, now barely a whisper: āCan I kiss you?ā
Your heart jumped, and your first instinct was to say no, but something in the way he asked, not demanding, not smug or coaxing, just raw and wanting, made your voice fail.
You didnāt answer right away, but you didnāt move away either, that was a start, and after a long moment he leaned in, closing the distance between you two, slow and careful, testing the waters first.
You felt his mouth touching yours, just once, just a little dry and reverent press of his lips on yours. He didnāt try to deepen the kiss. Didnāt try to slide a hand up your thigh or into your nightdress. He just kissed you like it was something sacred.
When he pulled back, he exhaled shakily.
āThank you,ā he whispered.
You turned away before he could see your expressionābut you didnāt pull your hand from his. And that night, for the first time, you slept pressed against him, not as strangers.
But as two peopleā¦ trying.
Alfie kept trying to impress you, he kept crowding you with gifts or jokes, but most important, he was there. Always there, a warm presence at your side, a coat draped over your shoulders before you thought to ask, a hand brushing your lower back as you passed in tight spaces, a low murmur of āgood night, loveā every time the candles burned low and you both drifted to your shared bed.
And youā¦ you had stopped flinching. Youād stopped pulling away when he reached for the sugar you were holding. Youād stopped holding your breath when he sat beside you, his leg touching yours, heavy and warm and real. Youād stopped avoiding his gaze when he looked at you like he wanted you, not with entitlement, but with aching, patient hunger.
So the night when it finally happened was like breathing after holding it for too long.
It was raining hard, and like most rainy nights you were curled on the sofa in the library, blanket wrapped around your legs, a book open in your lapābut unread, for some reason you felt different, unable to focus, your mind kept drifting to him.
Alfie came in without knocking, heād been in the cellar, you guessed, because he smelled faintly of dust and aged barrels.
He paused in the doorway, then stepped inside. āStormās a bastard tonight.ā
You nodded. āFeels like the house is groaning.ā
He eyed the thunder outside. āBuilt to withstand worse, this place. Like its mistress.ā
That made your lips twitch. āYouāre calling me a creaky old mansion?ā
āIām sayinā youāve got good bones,ā he said, grinning. āAnd secrets in the walls.ā
You laughed quietly, reluctant, but you didnāt stop him when he walked over and sat beside you, you didnāt move when his thigh pressed against yours, warm through the blanket.
The silence that followed wasnāt awkward, it was waiting for the storm that was to come.
And then you said, barely above a whisper: āYouāre not what I thought.ā
He turned to you slowly. āYeah?ā
āI thought youād take what you wanted. First night. Without asking.ā
His jaw tightened. āI wanted to. God, love, you donāt even knowāā
āI know.ā
Your hand found his on the blanket, lacing your fingers through his, purposefully this time.
āI thought Iād hate you forever,ā you said. āFor taking me like this. A deal. A transaction.ā
āAnd now?ā
You looked up at him, you were suddenly aware of how close his mouth was, how his eyes were searching for yours, with hunger, yes, but also waiting for you.
āI donāt hate you.ā
His throat bobbed with a swallowed breath, you moved your hand up, traced the edge of his beard, then the rough line of his jaw.
"What are you thinkin' about, love?"
āI think,ā you said slowly, āIād like to kiss my husband.ā
His eyes snapped open, blazing. But even then, he didnāt pounce, he just sat there, trembling slightly, until you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his. And it was nothing like the chaste brush heād given you before. This was hungry, wet, hot.
He groanedādeep in his chestāand his hand flew to your waist, tugging you into him like heād been starving and you were the only thing on earth that could feed him.
His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting, exploring. One of your hands gripped his shoulder, the other tangled in his curls, and he shuddered under your touch. You climbed onto his lap without thinking, so bold it even surprised yourself, straddling him, your mouth never leaving his.
When he pulled back his breath was ragged, his forehead pressed to yours. āLove,ā he rasped, āif you keep this up, Iām gonna fuckinā lose my mind.ā
āI want to do it.ā
He froze. You could feel the way his whole body tensed beneath you.
āWhat?ā
You licked your lips. Your voice shook, but your eyes didnāt.
āIām ready, Alfie. I want to do this. With you. I want to seal thisā¦ properly. Youāve waited and youāve been patient. And now Iām ready.ā
His hands gripped your thighs like he didnāt believe it. He stood, lifting you with him, and carried you through the hall like you weighed nothing, mumbling under his breath, fuckin' hell, finally, fuck me, yes.
By the time heĀ laid you down gently on the bed, both of you wereĀ shaking, not from nerves, not from fear, but from sheer, unbearable need. And when heĀ leaned down to kiss you again, it was no longer about obligation. It wasĀ choice. It wasĀ yours.
You watched himĀ hover above you, broad shouldersĀ tight with restraint as he looked down with eyes that burned. He wasnāt touching you, not yet, he was scared of making the same mistake he'd made the night he came home drunk.
You reached up,Ā fingers trembling, brushing his jaw. āAlfie,ā you whispered. āItās okay.ā
āIt fuckinā aināt though. I donāt wanna hurt you, darlinā. I donāt. I swear to God, Iāmā¦ I aināt never done this, not like thisānot with a woman whoās aāā
āI want you.ā
His hands came to your waist as soon as you said those words,Ā he was still being slow and cautious, thumbsĀ stroking gentle circlesĀ over your hips like you were something sacred. His mouth coaxed yours open,Ā tongues brushing,Ā lips parting again and again, your handsĀ threading through his hair, gripping tight as he deepened the kiss.
He kissed down your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your chest,Ā each touch reverent, aching, like worship. He undressed you piece by piece,Ā pausing after each layer, like he wasĀ unwrapping a gift too precious to rush.
You gasped when he reached your breasts, tongue flicking across a nipple as his hand gently kneaded the other, like he was learning your body by feel alone.
āBeautiful, you are,ā he muttered against your skin, voice suddenly reverent. āJesus Christ, justālook at you. Every bloody inch of you, itās likeā¦ itās like you was made to ruin me.ā
And then he bent,Ā mouth trailing fire down your stomach, until youĀ gasped from the heat of his tongue, your thighsĀ clenching involuntarily. His hands stayed slow, big and calloused, butĀ shakingĀ a little as they smoothed over your thighs, your hips, your stomach. You couldĀ see the effort it took him to go slow and be gentle, how tightly he was wound, fighting every instinct to just take.
He was so used toĀ commanding, claiming, but hereānowāhe was trying toĀ learn you, to please you and be soft. Even when it was something he had never cared about before, he wanted to try, for you.
His mouth was on yours again in a second, rougher this time, handsĀ gripping your hips, pulling you into him. YouĀ moaned when you felt how obscenely hard he already was, the thick line of himĀ pressing insistently against your lower belly through his trousers.
āIāve been fuckinā patient, yeah?ā he rasped, mouth hot against yours. āGood as gold. Slept beside you all them nights like some bloody monk, I did, achinā the whole fuckinā time. You got the faintest clue what that does to a man like me, eh? Do ya?ā
āI think I do,ā you said,Ā hand sliding down, brushing against the hard length of him, making him moan. āBut I want you toĀ show me.ā
He shed the rest of his clothes,Ā chest rising and fallingĀ like a man on theĀ brink of something feral. Alfie held himself up onĀ shaking arms, looking down at you like he didnāt know what to do, looking weirdly lost, which surprised you, because you were sure that he was a deeply experienced man, he exuded confidence in every area of his life, you guessed it wouldn't be any different in bed.
He let out a groan, pressing his forehead to your chest. āFuckinā hell. I ainātālook, I aināt built for the slow shit, right? That aināt me. Usually get myself a bird who wants it rough, quick, messyājob done, yeah? And Iām gone. But youā¦ā He exhaled hard, voice cracked with effort. āYou got me tryinā, love. You got me fuckinā tryinā.ā
āI know,ā you said, your handĀ sliding into his curls, holding him to you. āJustā¦ let's start slow, maybeĀ you could... touch me a little first.ā
He nodded and moved down your body, pressing a kiss to theĀ crease of your thigh, then used one hand toĀ gently part your folds, exposing your aching core to the air.
His breath hitched, sharp and reverent. āOhhāfuckinā hell, look at you, darlinā. Down āere, yeah? Youāre so fuckinā pretty down āere I could lose my fuckinā mind. Christ Almightyā¦ā
You flushed at the compliment, one you never expected to recieve, yourĀ hips were squirming, but his handĀ settled on your stomach, grounding you. His other hand moved slow,Ā two fingers gliding along your slickness, testing how wet you were.
āGottaāgotta make sure youāre ready, right?ā he muttered, more to himself than you, hands tentative like they were touching sacred ground. āCanāt just go in rough like some savage bastard, nahālittle thing like you, Iād split you in half.ā He laughed, low and disbelieving.
He rubbedĀ soft, teasing circlesĀ around your clit, barely there at first, his touch was exploratory,Ā careful as if you might break. His gazeĀ never left your face, rejoicing in the way you bit your lip and closed your eyes with pleasure.
You gasped, hipsĀ lifting instinctively, and he moaned.
āThatās it, yeah? You like that?ā
You nodded breathlessly, teeth catching your lip.
āAināt never had nothinā up this tight little cunt before, have ya?ā he rasped. āTell me, loveāyeah? You ever even touched yourself down here, hmm? Ever made that sweet little body cum on your own fingersāor were you just sittinā there, waitinā, savinā it for some sorry sod like me to come along and fuckinā ruin it?ā
āIāveā¦ Iāve never,ā you muttered.
He kept rubbing,Ā thumb joining in, building a rhythm, not too fast, not too hard.Ā Just right. Intentional. Learning you. The pads of his fingersĀ slick with your arousal, moving with growing confidence.
And then,Ā slowlyāgently, heĀ slid one thick finger inside you. You gasped again, more fromĀ surprise than pain, the sudden fullness making your eyes flutter.
He froze. āToo much?ā
āNo,ā you breathed. āJustā¦ different.ā
āAlright,ā he whispered,Ā kissing your inner thigh again, his lips lingering like a promise. āYou tell if it hurts, yeah?ā
His finger curled slightly, and he started to move it,Ā slow, shallow pumps, coaxing you open, softĀ groans slipping from his mouthĀ as your warmth swallowed him in.
āFuckāfuck, youāre tight,ā he groaned, hips grinding against nothing, jaw clenched like he was tryinā to hold himself back. āSo fuckinā tight, darlinā, I donāt even know how Iām sāposed to fit inside you, yeah? Gonna wreck me tryināā¦ā
He added a second finger, and your eyes fluttered shut. It stung a little, the stretch was invasive, but he was patient. He pumped them carefully, fingers curling to search for that sweet spot inside you.
āTell me what you like, yeah?ā he whispered. āTell me how to make it good for you.ā
Your hips rolled up to meet his hand. āRight thereāwhen you curl themā¦ā
His mouth dropped open, watching you with something likeĀ aweĀ as he obeyed, moving his fingers just like you asked him to.
āFuckinā hellā¦ justālook at you,ā he breathed, eyes dragging down your body like it was scripture. āSo bloody pretty like this, aināt ya? All warm, open, soft as sinā¦ all mine, yeah? All fuckinā mine.ā
You gasped when his thumb brushed your clit again. He paused.
āThat too?ā
āYesāfuck, yesākeep going.ā
He did, tracing soft circles with careful pressure, watching your face every second. You were panting, arching your back in delight, your body trembling as the pleasure mounted. You could see how badly he wanted to lose control, how his cock twitched hard as he tried to restain himself, he wanted to pleasure you first.
āTakinā me so fuckinā well, too,ā he murmured, voice thick and half-wrecked. āLike your bodyās got its own bloody mind, yeah? Like it wants meā¦ wants to keep me locked in there for good.ā
āAlfieā¦ā you moaned,Ā hips rocking helplessly, chasing his touch.
āI want you to cum for me, yeah?ā he whispered. āCan you do that, love? Right here, just like this, before I even fuckinā take you? Want you to fall apart first, all soft and needy for meāneed to see it, need to know youāre ready for whatās cominā.ā
It was like your body had instantly obeyed him, cumming hard, overwhelmed by how good it felt, his nameĀ ripped from your throat, body clenching around his fingers, thighsĀ squeezing his wristĀ like a vice.
āThatās itā¦Ā fuckinā look at youā¦ thatās my wifeā¦ā
He kissed you hard, tongue sliding into your mouth, stillĀ working his fingers inside you, breath hitching against your cheek.
When he pulled back, both of you were panting.
āYou feel ready, love,ā he rasped, voice nearly undone. āSo ready Iām barely holdinā it together. Still want me to, yeah? You want this?ā
āYes,ā you gasped. āI want you, Alfie.ā
You looked down for a second. His cock wasĀ thick and heavy, flushed dark with arousal. Probably too big, you knew women liked men well-endowed, but in that moment you wished he were a bit smaller. He positioned himself between your thighs, holding the base,Ā dragging the head slowly through your slick folds, soaking himself in you.
āThatās notā¦ gonna fit.ā
He gave you a wicked smile, then started to stroke himself, slow and slick with your wetness. āItāll fit, love. Might stretch a bit. Might sting. But Iāll make it good, yeah? Proper good. Youāll be begginā for it before Iām done, swear on me fuckinā life.ā
And then he began toĀ slide in,Ā inch by aching inch,Ā every muscle in his body trembling. He groaned,Ā burying his face in your neckĀ as he eased inside. Even with you being wet and open, you tensed at the stretch, it wasĀ so much, and your body was trying to catch up, trying to adjust to his size, your walls struggled to accommodate him inside you.
Alfie stopped instantly, noticing your discomfort.
āTalk to me,ā he said, voice tight.
āIām okay. Justā¦ go slow.ā
He nodded,Ā jaw clenched so hard it twitched. He pushed in another inch, and youĀ gripped his arms, nails digging in as the uncomfortable feeling intensified.
āSorryāsorry, right, fuckinā hell,ā he gasped out, mouth everywhere, kissing your cheek, your jaw, anywhere he could land. āJesus Christ, youāre tight, love. Like this sweet little virgin cunt was built specialāfor me. Yeah? For me.ā
Once he was buried fully inside, heĀ stayed still, panting, forehead pressed to yours, trying hard to keep it together, to not succumb to the warm and hard way you were gripping his cock.
āJust gimme a secāyeah? Justāfuckinā donāt move. Canāt bloody move yet or Iām gonna fuckinā embarrass myself, I swear.ā
You whimpered under him, your cuntĀ starting to adapt to the feeling of having his thickness inside you. And before you realized, the burn fade into somethingĀ full and deep and perfect.
You rolled your hips, wanting to feel more of him, and that was all it took for Alfie to snap.
He moaned, deep and broken, and began toĀ move. Still slowābut each thrust wasĀ deeper, moreĀ deliberate, until you were gasping his name andĀ clinging to him like youād fall apart otherwise.
āThatās itā¦ thatās it,ā he gasped, hips trembling against yours. āMy good girl, yeah? Fuckinā takinā me like you were made for it. Jesusāfeels like youāre squeezinā me in a bloody fist.ā
He wasĀ everywhere, his mouth on your neck, hands gripping your hips, voice in your ear whispering things that made you ache all over, how good you felt, how heād never had anything like this, how you were his wife now and heād never let you go.
āYouāre mine now. You hear me? My wife. My fuckinā wife. No one else sees you like this. No one else touches you like this. Not now. Not ever.ā
He pulled almost all the way outājust the tip insideāand thenĀ pushed back in, groaning loud as he filled you again. Deeper. Thicker.
āStill alright?ā he asked, though his voice had turnedĀ darker, laced withĀ possession.
āYes.ā
That one wordĀ unleashed him.
āGood girl,ā he rasped again, nose brushing your cheek, voice shaking. āSo fuckinā warm. So perfect. ChristāIāve dreamt about this. You underneath me, begginā for it. You like that, yeah? Like havinā your husbandās cock inside you? My filthy little thingā¦ā
He had managed to keep his thrusts slow so far, but they began to getĀ heavier, and the drag of his cock made your legs instantly lift to wrap around his waist.
āYou tryinā to kill me, eh? Wrappinā them bloody thighs round me like that? Gonna make me lose it right hereāinside ya.ā
āNgggh, oh Godā you whispered. āSo big, Alfieā¦ā
āYeah, well. Youāll get used to it, wonāt you? Cuntās already openinā up like she knows whatās good for her. Knows who she fuckinā belongs to now.ā
You whimpered, his mouth falled to your shoulder,Ā pressing hot kissesĀ along your skin. āYouāre doinā so well, love,ā he murmured. āLettinā me in. Lettinā me take you like this. Fuckinā hell, Iāll carry this in my bones till Iām in the grave, I will.ā
He started to thrust with more rhythm nowādeep, steady, rocking your hips into the mattress. And all the while he kept talking to you, his voice right at your ear, a mix of filth and reverence, sweet nothings tangled with obscene praise.
āFeel that?ā he whispered, grinding in even deeper, making your breath catch. āThatās meāall the way in, yeah? Right where I fuckinā belong. Perfect little cunt drivinā me insane, Iām gettinā drunk on it.ā
You clung to him, gasping as he angled his hips and suddenlyā¦
āFuck, thereāā you cried, digging your nails into his back.
āOhhh, there it isā¦ yeahhh, thatās it, thatās your spot, innit?ā He gave a dark, satisfied chuckle, watching you fall apart under him. āThere she is. My wife. My perfect little wife, makinā all those filthy fuckinā noises just for me. Gonna make āem every night now, yeah?ā
You were shaking again, body coiling tight. Every thrust now pressed into that spot inside you, his pelvis grinding against your clit just enough to make your body tighten and coil all over again. The pleasure was so dizzying you could barely keep your eyes open, your lips falling open with every gasp.
āYouāre gonna cum again, love?ā he murmured, voice all pride and hunger. āThatās my girl. Let me feel it this time. Cum on my cockālet me know itās mine. I want it all, yeah? Every last fuckinā drop.ā
Your body arched, hips rolling helplessly against his, and you moanedāloud and unashamedāas the orgasm took you. Hot and fast and full, clenching around him so tight he growled into your shoulder, making his hips stutter.
āF-fuckāfuckinā hell, youāre squeezinā me so good, Iāā His voice cracked, fingers digging into your hips. āCan I? Can I cum inside you, love? Gonna let your husband fill you up, yeah? Want me to fuckinā stay in you when I cum?ā
āYes, Alfieāpleaseāyes.ā
He didnāt last long, not with how tight and new and real it all was. He spilled inside you with a ragged moan, trembling as he emptied himself,Ā his cock pulsing deep inside you as he spilled every drop, staying buried deep, gasping your name against your lips.
He didnāt pull away. He stayedĀ deep, full, and warm, kissing your face, your shoulders, your lips, making you feel loved like you've never had before, like you didn't know you could ever feel the day you were forced to marry him.
āChrist,ā he whispered, āmarried life, yeah? Didnāt know it could feel like this.ā
You buried your face in his chest, your heart still racing.
āMe neither.ā
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A/N: Who wouldāve thought that 13-year-old meāwriting fanfics where your parents sold you to One Direction would still be doing the same thing ten years later? lol
RIP, I got carried away with my feedback so apologies for how long this ended up being š
āDonāt mistake me, love,ā āIāll want you. Every night Iāll think about it. But I wonāt force it. āCause once Iāve got you under me, yeah? I want you there because you chose to be. Because you finally realized this worldās mad, and maybe the devil you married aināt the worst fuckinā monster in it.ā - His way with words may be unorthodox, but goddd I love the way you've written his way š
āHelp the synagogue, donate to charity, give the lads jobs,ā āDonāt mean I need to be on my knees whisperinā in Hebrew before bed. Faithās not about sayinā the words, itās about how you live.ā - THISSS. I love this whole dialogue so much!!!
āYou know I want you, yeah?ā āThink about you all the fuckinā time. In my head. In my hand.ā āLike a bloody schoolboy.ā - AKSJSLJH š
"And I never asked to be punished every night by a virgin wife too proud to admit she wants me back!ā - OOP šš²
āNow listen, mate,ā āShe hates me now, yeah, and thatās fair. I did a bit of aā¦ a madness, right? A misstep, as the posh cunts would say. But what the fuck do I do, Cyril? She donāt like flowers. Donāt like whisky. Donāt like meā¦ā - Oh my heart, this is so Alfie when he's trying to make things right, but, he doesn't know how to and his best friend is his dog so he's gotta vent to who he can š„ŗš
āMay I ask you somethinā?ā āCan I kiss you?ā - AHHHHHHHH š
āIām ready, Alfie. I want to do this. With you. I want to seal thisā¦ properly. Youāve waited and youāve been patient. And now Iām ready.ā - OH MY GOSH, IT'S HAPPENING ASDJKLSJ š
āThatās itā¦Ā fuckinā look at youā¦ thatās my wifeā¦ā - LORDDDDD š„µš
āThatās itā¦ thatās it,ā āMy good girl, yeah? Fuckinā takinā me like you were made for it. Jesusāfeels like youāre squeezinā me in a bloody fist.ā - ASKKSLJH WHEN I TELL YOU I WISH THAT WERE ME š„µš¤
āChrist,ā āmarried life, yeah? Didnāt know it could feel like this.ā - I AM DECEASEDDD. THIS WAS EVERYTHING!!!!!!! š„µš
YOU'RE AN ACTUAL ARTIST W THIS MASTERPIECE, ANGEL ā¤ļø
I was randomly thinking of all of you here on this blog and I just wanted to post to say 1. I'm still here, I just tend to be more active on my F1 account @ihaveitprinteddout or my main @onlydeadcells and 2. I promise y'all are never far from my mind and I'm always sending endless love & good vibes to you all no matter what.
Never be afraid to reach out & I'm sorry I've kinda been a goner on here.
Request: yes by @darlingsfandom - sent as a blurb request
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader
Summary: In which (Y/N) (Y/L/N) repays her employer in a way he wasnāt expecting.
Warnings: language, an almost bar fight (series typical violence)
Word Count: 1856
A/N: I wasnāt expecting this to turn into a full on story, but it did - thanks so much for giving me the inspiration to write this, Em! Iām sorry it took so long for me to share it. The prompts sent in are bolded in the story. Enjoy! :)
COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED ā Iād love to know what you think of the story!
Comment/Message me if youād like to be tagged!
"I put me order in first!" one drunken man yelled at the man standing next to him.
"Mate this isn't even what you ordered!" the other man replied. Both men's hands reached for the pint glass at the same time.
"How the fuck do you know what I ordered?!" the first man questioned, his now brows deeply furrowed.
"Because I was here when I heard ya say it!" the second man responded.
(Y/N) stopped the order she was working on when she heard the squabble start. "What's happening here?" she asked the men, hoping to get some insight on why they were screaming at each other.
"That's bullshit!" The first man was not backing down. The screaming matched continued without acknowledgement of (Y/N)'s question.
"I'll tell you what bullshit is...bullshit is when someone claims a drink is theirs without checking what it is!"
"I'll show you bullshit..." the first man growled through gritted teeth before lifting the glass and slamming it down on the bar top, making the glass shatter and liquid spread across the wooden surface. He then lifted the handle, that was so conveniently still in his hands, in a threatening motion at the second man.
Nothing good was going to come out of this.
"Enough!" (Y/N) exclaimed, trying to get their attention by slamming her hand down on the counter.
A sharp pain surged through her hand the second it hit the surface, but she was too caught up in breaking up the bar fight to check and see what the cause of it was. "You both need to stop acting the way you are or you'll be thrown out."
"You need to start pouring the right fucking drinks in the right fucking order!" the first man yelled right back at the barmaid. He quickly turned to face her, the sharp handle of the glass now being waved in her direction.
"You might want to think about what you're doing right now," (Y/N) said to him, speaking in a low, leveled voice to try and get him to see sense in that moment.
She had no idea how this was going to go down.
"Oi! What the fuck is going out here?!" a booming voice came from the right-hand side of the altercation. (Y/N) turned her head to see a glaring Tommy Shelby looking through the small window that separated the private snug from the rest of the establishment.
"It's getting handled, Mr. Shelby," (Y/N) said in a quiet, but assured, tone. She hoped he could see that she could handle these sorts of situations by herself without having him stop he was doing to step in.
Tommy looked at (Y/N) for a moment, processing what she said before surveying the situation. In a matter of seconds he was out of the snug and approaching the bar. Anger was starkly apparent in his features. "I want both of you out of this fucking pub right now. Continue this if you want, but it won't be in front of me." He spoke in an almost growl-like tone. (Y/N) had never seen his this angry before.
The men didn't try and argue with him. They responded to his demand with a quick 'yes, Mr. Shelby' before they hung their heads and exited the establishment.
Tommy turned his attention to (Y/N) once they were out of sight.
"Mr. Shelby I was going to..."
"Let me have a look at your hand, (Y/N)," Tommy cut her off, his eyes zeroed in on the hand of hers that was still resting on the bar.
"It's fine, it just...oh, shit," she stopped what she was saying when she actually saw her hand. The sharp pain that she felt was caused by what looked to be a shard from the broken glass becoming stuck in the side of her hand. "Fuck," she breathed out a sigh, looking around for a rag to try and stop the bleeding.
"Let me look at it, love," Tommy cut in on her search, hoping to stop it before she could cover the injury up.
"I'll go to the washroom and sort it out," she insisted, continuing to look for a rag, "and then I'll make sure to clean the counter."
"It looks like there's a piece stuck in it," he pointed out, disregarding the action plan she'd just laid out.
"Let me see it."
"It's fine, Mr. Shelby," she insisted.
"Let me help you, (Y/N).ā He wasn't taking no for an answer.
"Ok," she answered with a breath, finally relenting and holding her hand out for him to inspect.
He looked at it for a moment before taking it into his hold and stepping ever so slightly closer to her.
The breath go caught in (Y/N)'s throat at their close proximity. One challenge of working for the Shelbys that proved hardest to her after all of this time was keeping herself composed around Tommy. There was just something about him that she couldn't quite shake from her mind. She had a crush on her employer.
As he took hold of her hand, he brought her forearm to rest between his torso on his own forearm, hoping that it would stabilize her injured hand more for him to have a better look at it. It did the trick...but it also got (Y/N)'s heart racing.
"Hold still, love. This might sting a little," he said to her as he readied himself to pull the shard out of the side of her hand. (Y/N) gritted her teeth and sucked in a breath in preparation, then let that same breath out as a hiss as Tommy pulled the glass from her hand.
"Thereā¦it's out," he announced, gently letting go of her hand so that he could throw the glass in the bin under the counter.
"Thank you," she smiled at him, appreciation clear in her expression.
"You're welcome," he answered, nodding once as his lips slightly curved upwards. "If anything like that happens again please come and find me. I'll handle it."
"I will," (Y/N) nodded, not even trying to fight him on it. She had no problem sticking up for herself, but she also wasn't going to argue with him wanting to handle any future altercations.
Tommy nodded again after hearing her response. He then watched her as she grabbed one of the clean rags to hold on the cut she'd gotten. "There's some bandages in me office...go and get one to stop the bleeding."
"I will. Thank you, Mr. Shelby," she smiled at him in appreciation before turning and walking to the part of the pub his office was located in.
(Y/N)'s smile was spread from ear to ear as she entered the Garrison on her next shift day. She did a quick search around the pub's main room before concluding that the person she was looking for was - hopefully - in the private snug.
She found him upon opening the door. He was sitting in his usual spot: the head of the table with his back to the bar. A quick glance around the room made her realize that his brothers, John and Arthur, were also present.
"Good morning, (Y/N). What can we do for ya?" Arthur was the one to greet her first.
"Good morning," she returned the greeting, smiling at the two men sitting in the booth before looking back at Tommy, "I, uh...I wanted to give these to you, Mr. Shelby," she said as she held her hand out in the space between her and her employer.
Tommy took a moment to look down at what she was offering him. There was no glaring emotion present on his face as his eyes returned to hers, and (Y/N)'d be lying if she said that seeing this didn't make her clam up a little bit. She was also able to feel Arthur and John's eyes watching the interaction, their gazeās weight adding an extra intensity to the situation.
"You got me flowers?" Tommy finally asked her, his eyes falling down to the small bouquet that was grasped in her still outstretched hand once more.
"I...yeah, I picked them on my walk to work today. I wanted to offer a little thank you for your help the other day," she explained the reason behind her sudden gift offering.
"You didn't need to thank me, (Y/N). It was..."
"I wanted to thank you, Tommy-" (Y/N) rushed to insist, her words coming out before she could realize she was calling her employer by his first name, "I, er...I meant Mr. Shelby, I'm sorry..." she stammered out, trailing off as she felt herself heat up at the mishap.
Tommy kept his eyes trained on her, which only made her want to sink into herself more, a somewhat of an amused expression forming on his face. If anything, he found her actions at this moment endearing.
He let a few more beats pass before he spoke again (Y/N) was getting closer and closer to dropping the flowers and running out with each one. John and Arthur were watching on intently, like one would with a close sports match.
"I appreciate the gesture, (Y/N)," Tommy finally spoke, taking the flowers from her - still - outstretched hand. He took another moment to look at them...no one had repaid him for doing a deed in a thoughtful way such as this before. A part of him truthfully preferred the sentiment to any lumpsome of money he could have received.
(Y/N)'s nerves were becoming increasingly frazzled with each moment that passed. Is he going to comment on my mishap? Was he upset by it? Is he going to reprimand me for it? Maybe I should get out of here. Her trail of thoughts finally pushed her to act, and she finally broke eye contact with Tommy to look at the two other Shelby men in the room, hoping to let them know that she was addressing everyone now. "I'll be going to my position at the counter now," she informed them, turning on her heel to walk the short distance back to the door.
"(Y/N)," Tommy's voice stopped her before she could open said door. She sucked in a breath as she turned back to face him. "Call me Tommy from now on, eh?"
The way he said it made it sound like a question, but anyone would have been able to tell that he was not asking her if she could do so. A weird feeling coursed through her body as she heard his statement. She couldn't explain it, or put a name to the feeling, but it put a smile on her face.
"I will," she gave him an answer even though he wasn't expecting one, nodding her head slightly before she continued with the motion of opening the door and exiting the snug.
OH MT GOSH, ANGEL K! This was so cute, and I love how simple the gesture was, although unexpected. Even Peaky Blinders deserve to receive flowers š„ŗš
Iāve been on the search for some new music and was wonderingā¦.
What is one song that youāve had on repeat this week/recently??
I look forward to listening to it!! š
HIII ANGEL K, I hope life has been treating you well.
A song I've had on repeat recently is: The cut that always bleeds by Conan Gray.
I've never been a fan of his music but I heard this particular part of the song on TikTok and when I tell you it cut through to my soul (no pun intended). It's also so beautiful lyrically and I think you'd really appreciate them a lot.
Rose promised never have a tattoo because she was scared of needles.
Contrary to her, Alfie has several including a rose on his chest because of her.
What Rose didn't expect it was a 5 year-old girl convincing her to get one because "papa Alfie" deserved one, too. And for her father, Allie was ready to talk to God personally if it was necessary.
"Just a little one! Not a lot of tattoos like he has. A tiny one? For him!"
"Allie, no! He really doesn't care if I don't have a tatto. Besides, it's not that easy to find a studio, they're always full and..."
"There's one!" she said pointing at the other side of the street where was one and was clearly empty.
Rose sighed. "Allie..."
"You're really pretty, mommy, you know? There's no mom in the world beautiful as you and you'd be much prettier with a little tattoo."
"When did you learn to be so... Alfie?"
"Just a little one, mom?"
.
It was night when they returned to the house. The smell of roasted chicken received them when they opened the door.
"Hello, my girls!" Alfie said kissing her daughter's head and then his wife. "Where were you?"
"Tell him, mom!! Tell him! It's for you, papa!"
"Tell me what?"
The kid couldn't contain her smile while Rose removed her coat and revealed her arm, where a letter A and heart could be seen.
"Fucking hell!" gently, Alfie grabbed her arm to see the tattoo that was protected by a film. "You did it! Is for me? I love you!"
"I love you, too. And yes, it's for you... Someone, pushed me to do it. And I survived, it wasn't that bad."
Both heard how Allie ran upstairs probably to tell Cyril about it, leaving both adults alone. Alfie placed a kiss in her arm where the tattoo was.
"It hurt?"
"No. But if you're going to kiss me because I was the bravest person ever in the world, I'm going to say that it hurt really bad."
"I'm going to kiss you anyway, I have several reasons to do it," he said putting his arms around her waist.
"Including being brave?"
"That's the first reason of all," Alfie said closing his eyes and resting her lips on hers.
OH MY GOSH, I LOVE THIS!!! I love that the tattoo was something small yet simple and sentimental ā¤ļø The way little Allie was not going to give up on pushing Rose to get a tattoo and being the convincing little angel she is, Mama Rose got it done!!! šš
a/n: This was rushed and not proofread, because I had the idea in my head and knew that I had to write it immediately before the idea would be lost. So apologies if there are mistakes in the grammar or spelling. Also Iāve never wrote for John before so I really wanted to try and I wanted to write something for the holidays , hope you like it! xx
āGoodnight my stars, thank you for being such wonderful older siblings yea? Close your eyes, mommy loves you both, alwaysā Your two older children had been helping you at home with two of your younger children throughout the day, even putting them to sleep, while you dealt with the other remaining three all day while your husband, John Shelby was back at Small Heath to help out at the Garrison. You smoothed down their hairs and kissed their foreheads and turned your heel to slowly close the door behind you and walked back to your bedroom.
Many hours go by and you still couldnāt sleep, but this wasnāt an uncommon occurrence. You could only ever sleep peacefully when John was next to you, his body warmth against your cold skin, and his hands that always grabbed your body just because he liked to hold onto the softness of your curves. So instead, you went downstairs to sit on the couch in the living room, legs sprawled out and head resting on the cushion. Looking at the calendar across from your peripheral vision, you saw the dateā 23rd December. Both you and John had planned to have a Christmas party, inviting all your friends and family, hoping that this would give a chance for your children to be able to meet their uncles, aunts, and their cousins which they had not seen in a very long time.
Staring at the ceiling fan, you started imagining what the party would be like on that special day. John would make a toast to his family, Arthur would get drunk and possibly black out on your porch, your children would be running around with their cousins in the backyard, and you would be having a lovely chat with Ada, Lizzie and Polly with wine and cigarettes in hand. Your lips pulled into a smile as you continued to daydream, and your eyelids slowly growing heavier at every second of it.
Your chest rises up and down at a slow and steady pace and your snores filled the living room. and you were blissfully unaware of the hand that was brushing your hair and tucking it to the back of your ears. Your eyes slowly open and your vision, still hazy but through all the haze, you knew who was waiting for you when everything would be all clear. Your man, John Shelby. He continued stroking your hair and placed a soft kiss on your forehead and in return, you gave him a warm and gentle smile. The sight of youā just woken up and groggy but still glowing nonetheless. As his hands cupped your face, his right thumb brushing your cheek while his left thumb wiped away the drool that had slid down your chin.
āIām home sweetheart, sorry to keep you waitin for so longā John says as he sat on the couch with you but readjusted your body, laying your head on his lap, facing up so that he could look down at you. āNo sāalright, Iām sure it must be hard delivering all the presents to families in the UK, isnāt that right Father Christmas?ā You teased. He scoffs, āThatās right, itās been tough on meā¦but I still managed to deliver em all, Iām bloody amazing arenāt I? and now, for being such a good girl, youāre gonna get your present earlyā¦cmere youā, He says as he leans down towards you and pulls you in for a kiss, your hands reached for his face, and your fingers lovingly combed through his brown hair. He cradled the back of your head while his other hand supports the small of your back.
When you both pulled away, you saw that boyish grin on his face, the same one you fell in love with when you were younger. Oh how you absolutely loved and adored his irresistible playful smile and immature personality, even though it often only ever brought you headaches because it made you feel that you had eight children instead of seven. āHope you like your gift, loveā. You sat up and placed your hands on his chest and gave him a tiny peck on his lips, placing your foreheads against each other. āOf course I did, it was actually one of the best gifts Iāve ever received in my whole lifeā.
The both of you stayed like that for a moment. Forehead still pressed against one another, his hands now rubbing on your back and on your thigh. Suddenly, he lifts you up bridal style, you let out a soft gasp to not wake your children. āJohn!ā you cried out, giggling like a school girl as you kicked your legs. He carried you to your bedroom and gently tosses you onto the mattress and locks the door behind him. You barely get a moment to react when he tackles you and litters you with kisses on your neck, leaving you squealing and laughing at his antics. His body hovers above you as he looks at you with those big blue eyes, leaning to give your lips one last kiss, āHappy holidays sweetheart, I love you, alwaysā.
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