#warmed up drawing my oc and they had a cigarette even though I never drew them smoking before lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redselfships · 5 years

Text

little red’s pastries

SUMMARY: Little Red decides to make amends with a certain wolf.

PAIRING: Bigby Wolf x Red (Self-insert, OC)

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

NOTE: I was rewatching Cry’s playthrough and fell in l*ve with Bigby all over again so uh............bear with me :-).

Red arrives at The Woodlands fairly late into the day. She meant to close up her cafe earlier than usual until a sudden rush of customers kept her in. Even if the others pressed for her to leave but she couldn’t find it in her to leave them be.

Nevertheless, Red took a deep breath in and out. She was finally here at least. Even if the walk was longer than she’d thought it would be. The night sky was already growing darker, stars slowly dotting the sky and the high moon peeking out from the clouds. She drew her red coat tighter around herself, as a chill breeze blew threw her body.

It was now or never.

She entered the apartment lobby, it was small. Nothing too special. She’d been here before—countless of times, actually. It was where Snow’s office resided, same goes for Bigby Wolf. Though, until today, she never had the need to go to his office. Petty crimes were basically nonexistent for her. A small cafe would never draw any attention, anyway.

Red diverted her attention to the sleeping guard.

“Um—excuse me?” She lightly tapped at his desk, hoping to wake the man. Instead, he stayed fast asleep. The only response he offered were heavy snores, muffled under his cap. “I...ugh…”

Red taps the desk once more, hoping to wake him but to no avail.

“Alright, I’m going up to Mr. Wolf’s apartment.” She says, to nobody in particular but just getting it out there was enough to ease the guilt forming in her heart. The guard merely snores back in response.

As she waits for the elevator to come down, Red hums a soft tune. Rocking back and forth on her heels while holding the beautifully decorated box between her hands.

A stab of nostalgia strikes her heart, while drastically different, she is reminded of old times; way back when, anyway. With Little Red Riding Hood on her way to her grandmother’s only to find the Big Bad Wolf awaiting her. Only this time, she truly was on her way to meet the Big Bad Wolf.

She’d dropped the red cloak a long time ago and in its place took a red winter coat with a stylish A line that she couldn’t part with. And rather than her famous wooden basket, she carried a tote bag around. Stylish and modern.

The elevator finally stops at the ground floor and she takes a step inside. If she remembered properly, his floor was somewhere at the top. It’s the smallest but she supposed the view would be worth it. Before the doors can shut close, a familiar, hairy hand stops the doors.

Lo and behold, as the doors slide open once more, Red finds herself facing the man himself. It’s his scent that hits her first. The unbearing scent of his favored Huff and Puff cigarettes. She wasn’t the biggest fan of smoking since the general stench of nicotine filling her lungs was enough to keep her from cigarettes.

They both share a look of surprise before Bigby hesitantly steps inside just as she pulls her attention away. Her heart pounds at her chest; some mix of fight or flee raising red flags at her head. It was just some primal instinct, given their history. She tries to shrug it off, repeating in her mind that Bigby Wolf is different from the Big Bad Wolf they all knew and feared from before.

He is their sheriff now. He’s better. Different.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

No, she shakes her head.

“These—”

“Why—”

The two had turned to look at each other, eyes shooting up in surprise once more. Red can’t help but jump back a little. He looks apologetic, pulling his gaze away from her and staying silent. Probably to let her talk without interrupting her.

She clears her throat.

“I actually came to visit you, um, Bigby.” She says his name slowly, as if to test it on her own tongue. There’s a flash of shock in his face before it’s wiped clean, a look of indifference taking it’s spot. She watches from the side of her peripheral as he reaches up to scratch his stubble.

“Is that so?” His voice is a deep grumble. It soothes her more than anything and she feels herself relax beside him. She drops her shoulders, not having realized they were so tense. “Did, er, did something happen?”

“Oh, no, not at all. Plus I think it’s a little past your office hours, isn’t it?” Red tilts her head quizzically at the man. It’s a rhetorical question and so all she gets is a snort in return. She lifts the box in her hands up, directing his attention to it with a curious gaze. Red wouldn’t put it past her to know that Bigby could sniff out the contents himself. “I brought you some pastries from my cafe. And, um, I wanted to talk.”

He seems to think it over. Most likely more from disbelief that she’d come to him first. Red takes the time to turn on her heel to face Bigby. He looks worse for wear and she feels a stab of regret coming by so late. Maybe she should’ve called earlier instead of dropping by at random. The heavy bags under his eyes only made his appearance look worse. It was too late now, anyway. She was here and he was here.

“Talk?” Bigby repeats, cocking an eyebrow in her direction. His hand twitches slightly beside him before he reaches in his pocket to pull out a box of cigarettes. Huff and Puff. She blanches at the sight, her nose scrunching. “...Not a big fan of cigarettes?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then.” He shoves the box back into his pockets and instead crosses his arms.

Just as Red was about to start talking, the elevator rumbles. The overhead lights flickering on and off before staying off, plunging the two Fables into darkness. A muffled squeak slips past Red’s lips and she immediately tenses. Just her luck. She was hoping to be in and out of The Woodlands.

“Calm down.” Bigby mutters as he reaches over her to press the alarm button. This wasn’t a common problem, being The Woodlands and all, but he’s had his fair share of shitty elevators. The girl beside him though seemed to be quite the opposite. Her body more rigid than when she first saw him. Eyes blown wide as her grip on the box tightened just the slightest bit. Enough the crease the box.

Even with the overwhelming scent of pastries that clung to her person, he could sniff out a faint scent of panic.

“Listen, during these times, you shouldn’t panic.”

“Easy for you to say, sheriff.” Red chuckles dryly, somehow finding the energy to voice her sarcasm.

He presses the alarm button once, twice, before the emergency lights finally flicker on. It may have been a simple blackout.

“Well, we’ll probably be here a while.” Bigby lets out a grunt as he settles down on the floor. One legged bent at the knee and the other spread out on the cramped elevator. Red stares him down for a few minutes before sighing and settling down on the other side of the elevator too. She keeps her legs criss crossed before neatly placing her tote bag onto her lap. “At least now, we can talk. ‘S what you wanted, right?”

She nods. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

It was Bigby’s turn to scrunch his nose. “For what?”

“It might sound morbid but just hear me out.” She shifts her attention down to her hands, where she was fiddling with her fingers. “The Woodsman came by my cafe, um, a few nights ago. He told me why he ran into my Grandmother’s home. Which kind of makes the both of you absolute assholes, by the way.”

Her statement makes the latter snort but he stays quiet nonetheless.

“Anyways, he apologized, even though he didn’t really get around to the robbing part.” She waves her hand dismissively. The Woodsman didn’t stick around for long after apologizing to her. Still, she sent him off with a nice cup of coffee and his favorite pastry. On the house, she’d said, despite the sour taste building up in her throat. Maybe The Woodsman noticed it, the way her smile was strained because he left rather quickly after that.

“I came to make amends with you too. Hence the pastries.” She holds the box out for Bigby to take, which he does, after a few seconds of suspiciously eyeing it. If she was in the least bit offended, Red concealed it well. “In a way, you kinda saved me from being robbed. A-and I know that you’re not that same person. Or, er...wolf? Uh—not the same werewolf? Sorry, um, anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’d like to be your friend now.”

When she’s met with silence from the other man, Red feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment. Maybe this was a bad idea. But it wasn’t like she can run away from this situation, since they’re stuck in the elevator for God knows how long.

“Alright.” Bigby finally says with a stiff nod. He isn’t looking at her either, instead keeping his attention on a random spot on the floor. He’s holding the box of pastries out too, awkward and stiff. It almost makes Red feel a bit better. She straightens herself, fixing her posture and making sure her short hair is fixed.

“My name is Red, some people like to call me Little Red.” She sticks her hand out for Bigby to shake. “And you are?”

It takes a few seconds for Bigby to realize what she meant to do. He places the box on the ground beside him and reaches out to shake her hand. His hand was larger than her own—probably large enough to cover her whole hand. It’s warm around her own. Insanely warm. Red obviously doesn’t know much about wolves—werewolves or whatever the sort—but if she remembered correctly, they were much warmer than humans.

“It’s nice to meet you, Little Red. They call me Bigby Wolf.”

Her infamous nickname on his lips brings a shiver down her spine and she can only hope that he didn’t hear the hitch in her breath.

(Who was she kidding? Of course he heard it.)

“It’s nice to meet you Bigby Wolf.” She musters up the best smile that she can, despite her burning cheeks. The two of them draw back their hands, if not a bit hesitant. “..,Mmm, can I tell you about what I brought you?”

Bigby picks up the discarded box before unceremoniously dropping it to his lap. Without thinking, Red moves to situate herself next to the man, leaning over his shoulder to look inside the box.

“I didn’t know which you’d like so I kind of just made some of my favorites that I thought you’d like.” Red explains. “I also brought one with peanut butter...um, my friend’s dog really likes it! Wait—not that you’re a dog, but uh—” Red cuts herself off from rambling any more and digging herself into a bigger hole. Her cheeks are sufficiently flushed. In a last ditch effort to hide her face, she basically shoves her face into the palm of her hands. Barely resisting the urge to scream.

“I’m sorry.” She finally says, her voice muffled. “I—”

The elevator dings and she guesses that the power is back on because it finally continues the travel up the building.

“Oh, thank God.” She breathes out a sigh.

A deep chuckle besides her catches her attention though and she manages to gather the courage to peek from her fingers. Bigby is laughing. Honest to god laughing. The sight takes her by surprise—the way his nose scrunched as he laughed. His eyes shut tight as he raises his hand to cover his mouth. It’s muffled and a bit silent but she soaks it in nonetheless.

The sight takes her by surprise, to say the least.

The Big Bad Wolf was...laughing.

“I like peanut butter.” He mumbled, a crooked smile on his lips once he’s collected himself. The elevator dings and the twin doors slowly open to his floor. The two stand up from where they sat; Red picking up her tote bag and with Bigby picking up his box. He takes a step out of the elevator while Red stays put.

“T-that’s good! I’ll just be on my way home now. Since I got everything off my chest.”

Bigby uses his free hand to scratch the nape of his neck, looking hesitant. It sends her heart in a flurry, endeared by the man. This was someone entirely new. Not the Big Bad Wolf she knew and feared.

“Will you be fine? To get home.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “I promise I won’t take any back roads or talk to any bad wolves.” She jokes, hoping that it comes across as that. A joke. Luckily it does as an exasperated smile curls his lips.

“Alright, be careful on your way bad, Red.”

“I will. And come by my cafe sometimes! Maybe I’ll throw in a free cup of coffee for our Sheriff.”

He nods.

“Sure, Red.” Maybe it was quick of her. Being naive was one of her defining traits; too trusting, was another. But hearing her name from his lips was...oddly soothing. Maybe it was the rumble of his voice. Or maybe she was just imagining things.

Red waves her hand, managing to throw one last ‘Good night!’, before the elevator door shuts close. Once she was heading back down to the lobby, she heaves a sigh.

At least she managed to do what she intended.

#part two perhaps #writing #mine #f/o: bigby #self shipping #self shipping community #self ship

7 notes · View notes

shirokaneki · 5 years

Text

364 Days of Winter (Hatori x Shigure Comission)

I am currently doing writing comissions at £10 for 1k, £20 for 2k, £60 for 8k. Yes, I will do NSFW, come message me for details and examples of that and I’ll discuss pricing. I will also write about your OC’s, main fandoms i can do are fruits basket, tokyo ghoul, fate series, evangelion, madoka, pokemon, but whatever it is come discusss with me. Reblogs appreciated!

A figure stood alone in a world devoid of colour, consumed both inside and out by an empty void of white.

Wind howled like a lone wolf. Ice belted from a blank sky, punching holes into his chest like showers of bullets.

This wretched snowstorm had lasted for days. And there was no spring in sight. Nor even any water after the ice. The state of his feelings were unchanging; stuck away in limbo, smothered – as they had been for years. His love was unrequited, and gradually the feeling gnawed away at him, just like the world gradually drowning in a frenzy of ice.

Even lighting a single flame was a struggle. Cigarette in mouth, lighter in hand, he made a futile attempt at kindling something warm. A wisp of heat ignited the bluish night, however, the ruthless wind brutally blew it away, cold assaulting his shivering body like the sunken fangs of a wild beast. The flame was blown away by the hollow gust of wind.

It felt as though he could summon no emotion within him without wretched ice demolishing him somehow.

He’d never needed a cigarette so much in his life. On this particular New Year’s Eve it looked like they might get snowed in overnight – his worst nightmare, really. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t turn up, say the snow was so bothersome and stay at home. Yet, part of him was almost excited that he would. It was such a stupid, childish feeling that he loathed. It seemed so futile, all of it – his unrequited love, his need for a cigarette, yet, he had no choice but to continue attempting trying to spark a flame– such a cold existence needed to smoke. He needed the warmth to suck the life out of to keep his heart from completely freezing over.

His love for Shigure was like his addition to cigarettes: a cancerous, one way burn that was killing him slowly. Yet, he needed it to survive. Hope that he’d somehow get his fix kept him battling the storm. Snow swirled and blasted, wind wailing as it reared for another assault on him. It hit him like the voracity of a quickly broken heart, painting the world in a growing limbo of nothingness, just like the ice gradually freezing his heart.

His heart seemed to be freezing over at such a rate that he depended on the cancer-sticks like an injection of heat into the insides. It was an effort, for sure, but somehow he managed to light a tiny flame. Literally as well as figuratively; using his burning hands as a shield, and turning his back on the snowstorm, a meagre flame flickered weakly inside his hands, spreading a weak, yet pleasant heat like the withering hope inside him that anything good could ever come of this emotion. Even if by some slim chance it worked out – which it wouldn’t – Akito would be furious. These daydreams were purely that, – just fantasy.

Everyone knew how it had went when he’d incurred Akito’s wrath before.

His body shuddered at the thought. Cigarettes seemed to be the only thought keeping him going through the night. If any of the zodiac couldn’t make it to the banquet, Akito would be furious. Thinking about it, he drew on the cigarette like his life depended on it. As he blew out the smoke it weaved and spiraled into a shape somewhat similar to a dragon before withering away to the clutches of ice.

What a fun night it’s going to be, he thought bitterly.

“Haa-san!” came a faraway voice, filled with such vigour and perk that his heart soared before plummeting back down with his usual pessimistic dread.

“Shi… shigure?” Hatori replied abruptly, realising he’d shown way too much emotion in that instant. He really hadn’t expected him to be here, especially running towards him at full blast over ice. He didn’t like people seeing his emotions – especially when they were filled with a gross, girlish crush unbefitting a grown man, so he cleared his throat, replying in a lower, deadpan voice. He let his sleek black hair fall across his expression so it was hidden once more. “Good to see you. I didn’t think you’d be making it tonight.”

Shigure stood before him and beamed. “Looks like there is going to be quite a few of our zodiac missing tonight. Many are snowed in. It’s going to be an interesting night, so I made sure to bring lots of alcohol!”

“Shigure,” Hatori muttered slowly. The wind made his hair wisp, revealing that scarred eye which he quickly hid with a down-turned head. ”You live out with the Sohma land, the farthest away of us all, yet you’re the one still here. You did something, didn’t you?” His hand clenched as a fist by his side. “Did something happen between you and Akito?”

“Oh, Hatori.” Shigure stepped into the shelter of the Japanese style roof, shadow passing over his features. Hatori just knew there was malicious intent from a certain darkness in his gaze, but what he could not tell. “You know I’ll do anything to break the curse and draw distance between the zodiac and their God.” He smirked.” I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Hatori felt like one of the only people who knew of Shigure’s true nature. It was selfish. He’d use anyone to get what he wanted. Yet, somehow, he still loved him despite this, and for that, he had no reason why. It was hard for him to make new relationships, so perhaps instead the heart was clinging to the nostalgia of an old one, remembering all the joyous moments him, Ayame and Shigure shared. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, he supposed, even if there was no fathomable reason why.

“Oh, Haa-san, by the way,” Shigure retaliated in a sing song voice. A complete flip in two sides of the same coin – as was usual for Shigure. “Your partner for the traditional dance this year has dropped out. I figured you wouldn’t want to do it yourself, so I’m offering myself up instead. Since we haven’t rehearsed anything traditional together, I figured we should do some sort of easy ballroom dance you see in hollywood movies instead. Look!” He rummaged the bag in his hand and unfurled a long, pink ballroom dress. “I even had this dress made especially for you!”

Hatori walked away and slammed the door in his face. There was a click of a key being locked.

“It was a joke, a joke Haa-san, this is one of Ayame’s dresses!” Shigure whined, pounding on the door, “please don’t leave me out here to freeze!”

***

Eventually, someone took pity on Shigure and let him in. But it was just as cold on the inside as it was out. The atmosphere hung over them with a heavy sense of dread. There was a banquet: bright, colourful and overfilled with food. Yet there was hardly anyone to eat it. There was just Hatori, Shigure and a falsely bright Ayame trying to lighten the mood.

Akito could hardly be considered to be considered a presence. They just sat in the corner, silent, crossed armed, hair fallen over their face, poisoning radiating from them that tainted the air. Shigure was cheerful – too cheerful; this definitly had something to do with him.

They began drinking hard. That much was needed.

Something battered at the house. A gust of wind howled ominously loud like an impending storm, and everything went black.

All the light was gone once again.

“Looks like the power has gone out. Do we have any candles?” Ayame said lightly, attempting to brighten the mood, but there was a definite sense of unease in his voice.

Akito didn’t answer. They remained silent, brewing like the storm outside.

“We have them. I’ll get them from the kitchen,” Shigure replied.

They sat in both silence and darkness, awkwardly waiting for Shigure to return.

Fwoosh.

Upon his return, there was light again. Shigure lit candles in the room one by one. Sparking light was beyond an easy task for him – much unlike how it was with Hatori outside.

“Hatori.” Akito’s voice was like a light airy breeze, soft, yet hollow sounding, despite the clear malice bitten back within. Hellish flames danced on their skin. They had been plotting, scheming something to cause a scene, and it looked like now it was finally time. “Do your traditional dance.”

Hatori hung his head. “However, my partner…”

“Partner?” Akito looked head on at them for the first time that night, those empty gray eyes bulging with malice. “Don’t make me laugh, Hatori. You will dance the dance alone – like you always are. It should be natrual for you, right?”

Akito’s words were like an icicle straight through his chest. Not that there was any trace of it on his face; his expression was still, stoic, not even a flinch of surprise as his heart was pierced. As an older man, he thought it was place never to cry, never to show anything beyond the professional business man charade he put on.

He didn’t blame Ayame and Shigure not for standing up for him. Even after all these years, living their lives as best friends there was an unspoken rule – never must the zodiac challenge the word of their God.

However…

“Come now,” said Shigure in a low voice. “It would be far too embarrassing for Haa-san.”

Hatori looked up quickly, the candlelight casting a warm sparkle in those cold, grey eyes. Promptly he looked away, hiding an eye behind his hair. The atmosphere suddenly became volcanic; Akito’s teeth snarled with an oncoming eruption of rage. Their eyes bulged with the wrath of a vengeful God but Hatori stood up quickly, sedating the oncoming eruption that had been building all night. A fearful shudder passed though him – he knew of God’s wrath all too well.

“I will do the dance,” he said in a quiet voice.

Akito bit their lip. The rigid, dangerous stance of their body loosened somewhat. They smirked.

If I have to be the crux to prevent my friends from being hurt, so be it, Hatori thought to himself.

He made his way to stand in front of everyone with awkward, ungainly steps – unbefitting of a man with such a cool, powerful aura. He retreated into himself, fingers curling to fists, lip being bitten. Normally, the traditional new year’s clothes were a bright, extravagant affair, exploding with colour and detail. However, Hatori’s were a plain black, long and sweeping the floor, – as per Akito’s request. They were long, dark, and devoid of colour – just like the hollow emptiness of his heart.

He kept his gaze firmly on the floor, hair streaming over his face. Akito laughed.

But something happened as he looked up. He caught Shigure’s eyes, looking striking with the hot light dancing within them. His hand rested on his palm with a small smile of encouragement on his face, unbearably handsome looking and, well…

The flickering flames casting Hatori’s body with incandescent hues of oranges melted the crutches of ice gripping his heart. It was such a minor thing to speak like that to Akito, but it was something he wasn’t sure any other of the zodiac could do. Maybe not even he, for he still lived in fear after that day he was blinded by Akito. That was day the world had lost its colour, and ice began to solidify his heart.

But at that precise moment, he felt a great amount of love for Shigure. The feeling melted the ice within him, igniting his bloodstream with the warm, static tingles of butterflies. His frozen heart was temporarily thawed, and it blossomed like the first flourishes of cherry blossoms from Winter into Spring.

Perhaps this was the alcohol taking, but he decided to call upon it. To channel those smothered, pent up feelings through the medium of dance. It was his only hope of relief. The only way he could express his love in a way that didn’t leave a path of destruction – never could it be voiced aloud.

He tore his eyes away from Shigure, closing them, and started out small. His knees bent, body hunched up and curled with his arms clutching at his shoulders as if fighting away the cold. He thought about Kana. How the incident had snatched the ability to freely love without the vices of fear and left him cold. Then, he thought of Shigure. The thought brought such an expression of pain on his face. Never would his feelings be returned, but, as the candles painted an aura of warmth over his usually pale skin, steadily, he began to grow. Love ignited him. It gave him the warmth he needed to keep going and let him feel things again, no matter how painful they were.

The love was agony. As was told by the slow, tepid movements he made. This wasn’t anything remotely close to what he’d rehearsed but that dance couldn’t be done alone anyway. Akito wanted to humiliate him. And so he would humiliate himself, expressing that gross, disgusting love that made him feel as though he’d implode if he locked it away any further.

Steadily, he began to grow from his hunched position. Slowly. Cautiously. Quivering in a way that he could not tell was cold or fear. But he thought of that heat on his skin, the newly grown flame warming his insides, and drew upon it like a phoenix rising from the ashes of an old love into the blaze of a new one. Brow furrowed in pain, steadily, his limbs began to unfurl like fiery wings in the candlelight. His body grew in a slow, steady manner, like the trees that signalled spring, and his fingers unfurled gracefully like flourishing cherry blossoms. He opened his eyes. Amour painted them, their usual colour warmed by the feeling of love, and, helplessly, he found himself gazing at Shigure. Shigure’s eyes were wide, bedazzled looking, lips parted in awe. Quickly Hatori looked away, turning his back on him.

He panted and retreated back into himself. His heart rioted in panic. Had Shigure sensed something? Could he tell he loved him just from that single look? No. There was no way. He beat himself up internal for succumbing to such a vile feeling; gentlemen didn’t go around expressing love in girlish dance.

Still. All eyes were upon him. He could feel their burn – even Akito was suspiciously silent. He had to continue. He had to humiliate himself further, otherwise there would be hell to pay from their God.

Slowly he turned his head. The long black fringe of his hair obscured his face. It flashed like a halo as he turned to face his audience face on – it had to be a quick movement, otherwise he may have never been able to face them again. He couldn’t look Shigure in the eye. So instead, he reached to the candle sitting on the shelf behind him above his head. The light, the warmth he craved, was out of reach. As he stood, sucking all the light into him with the vanta black of his robe, only a faint outline of gold glowing behind him, his arm slowly outreached. It shook ever so slightly at the thought of what would happen if he ever caught the light. But he’d never know. Streams of gold slipped through the cracks of his fingers.

“That’s enough, Haa-san,” said a voice in a low, gentle lilt.

Hatori flinched, fear of what Akito might do overriding the blossoms of static coursing from his fingers, but he couldn’t pull away.

The light may have escaped his grasp. However, much to his shock – and horror – the real thing was in his fingers. Shigure’s fingers had closed over his own, sending waves of heat and static blossoming over his fingers.

“You needn’t dance alone.”

Such dread caused him to plummet back to the real world that he almost wretched as Akito stood to their feet.

#hatori sohma #fruits basket #shigure sohma #hatori x shigure #ayame sohma #writing comissions #apologeis if read more isn't working so ill tag #long post #i did add one but idk if you can see it

7 notes · View notes

hardyimagines · 6 years

Text

The Decision — Part 2

———————————————————

Can I ask for a request? Alfie had to give up the reader because hes facing a powerful and dangerous enemy but he doesnt tell the reader. She ends up dating tommy (who doesn't know about her past with alfie) and on their wedding day Alfie shows up. Idk what happens next lol but I just would love to read about tension and emotions and alfie just like being vulnerable. Thank you 💜💜💜

Omg so your new Alfie fic is amazing! I've never requested anything before or made a suggestion but I wanted to suggest that maybe (if you want), can you include a part where the main OC does end up getting hurt and she's possibly pregnant (maybe loses it) with Alfies child and he doesnt know but then he finds out?! Whether she gets hurt bc of Tommy or Alfie it's up to you but I'd like to read that

Requested by: @fuckitsharam & @stylingco

Word count: 6k ||| Status: completed

———————————————————

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

It had been 93 days since you had seen Alfie. 93 days since he had broken your heart. 93 days that you spent wishing things had gone different.

It was a Friday evening in late December. The snow outside was falling gradually from the starry night sky. It was so enchanting to watch the white ice coat the grey streets from the inside of your home, eyes glued to the window. Your new beau had gone out to get some wine to enjoy for the night. Christmas was a week away and regardless of the fact that the two of you had only been together for a few months, he insisted that you spend the evenings together, talking endlessly about anything and everything. You pulled the blanket around your shoulders more securely, soaking in every ounce of warmth from the brown fabric. The door opened and a burst of cold air rushed in through the gap, flooding the decorated house with the overly chilly wind. The black haired, blue eyed fellow made his way into your small home. In his hands, he held a bottle of wine, a little wrapped box and a cute ornament to hang on the tree in the corner. You straightened on the sofa at the sight of him before quickly scrambling from your position to help him with the items so that he didn’t drop anything, especially the wine. “Thomas, you’re holding too much.” You warned lightheartedly. Taking the bottle away from the man, you smiled down at the brand before setting it on the table. “I walked all the way here, didn’t I?” A smirk tugged at his lips. “My shirt looks good on you.” Tommy spoke gruffly, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of your head when he brushed past you. His fingers pressed lightly into your hip, studying your body for a few seconds. His shirt fell to your upper thighs, the front unbuttoned slightly. It fit you nicely. Alfie’s fit nicer. You opened the top drawer and drew out the wine opener. Setting the sharp top against the cork, you stuck the sharp end into the center, and twisted the handle. You wouldn’t be having any of the alcohol, but you were more than happy to pour a glass for Thomas. The red liquid flowed from the top and filled the glass up to the rim. You handed the chalice to the man with a soft smile before lowering your hand to your slightly swollen belly. Your thin form meant you were showing earlier than he had typically seen. His sister Ada, and his brother’s wife Esme, hadn’t shown until later on in their pregnancies, but you were glowing magnificently and the rounded tummy was rather visible if you looked hard enough. It resembled a bloated tummy. Tommy stood in the corner of the room. Lighting a cigarette, he took a small sip of the red wine before stepping closer to you as he inhaled the cancerous smoke. This was quite strange to you. Tommy seemed to be more than happy to help you out with the pregnancy, even though it wasn’t his baby that was growing in your belly. This child, in fact, belonged to Alfie Solomons.

You sat down at the table, picking a grape off of the stems in the bowl. Pushing it past your lips, you slumped back against the seat and smiled slowly at the gentleman as he offered to make you some soup. “It’s alright, tommy. I’m not that hungry. Everything I eat, it comes right back up anyway.” The man nodded in understanding before taking another drag of his cigarette and exhaling slowly. He took a seat beside you, fingertips tapping the top of the table lazily. “You still haven’t told me who the father is.” He pointed out, using his pinky to usher to your stomach. You licked your lips, heavy eyes moving to his. “It doesn’t matter who’s it is. You’ll be more of a father to the baby than the actual dad. He doesn’t care.” You shrugged your shoulders lightly. Alfie probably would care, but you didn’t have the guts to go and face him. You’d gone by the distillery 5 times in the last week in hopes to find some sort of courage to tell Alfie the truth, but it never came. “I want to tell him first, Thomas, and then you can know, okay?” The man was still, studying you. “Do you still.. love this other man?” He asked. He wasn’t afraid of your answer. If you said yes than that was okay. If you said no, even better. “I think a part of me will always love him.” You muttered hurtfully. “But a larger part of me hates him.” Your back pressed even firmer into the back of the seat, effectively popping it. You’d never told so many lies in one day. “I have to go to Camden Town tomorrow, my mother needs my help, but I’ll be back in right after that.” Your hand outstretched toward the man, fingers delicately gliding along his smooth cheek. “So you’d better make the most of tonight, Mr. Shelby.” Tommy leaned in to you almost instantly. He’d never felt so weak to a woman before. You hated that you subconsciously compared him and every single one of his actions to Alfie. For example, when he would kiss you, he tasted like smoke and alcohol, whereas Alfie always tasted like a holiday and home. He tasted sweet, like a dessert and he was so addicting. Alfie would’ve lifted you up and off of the chair by now so he could hold you on his sturdy hips. Tommy leaned over you, hand gripping the back of the chair, whilst his other rested on your cheek. Tommy kissed you slowly, passion-filled, yes, but so very slowly. His tongue was rather coy in comparison to Alfie’s feverish one. You weren’t sure which kiss you preferred. A slow and considerably modest kiss or a desperate, needy, love coated kiss. Probably the latter. Anything Alfie related.. you’d always prefer. Tommy finally drew you out of your thoughts when he moved his hand to your waist and pulled you gently up from the seat. He guided you blindly toward the bedroom and suddenly your mind went blank. You couldn’t think of Alfie. Sex was no comparison. It felt good with Tommy, but it was incredible with the bearded man in Camden Town. Perhaps he’d refresh your memory when you went by to tell him you were pregnant tomorrow. Courage or no courage, he deserved to know.

———————————————————

Alfie was sat in his living room. His blue eyes were as ignited as the flames that roared to life in the fireplace. Alfie slumped back against the sofa and let his head roll back. His eyes were fixated on the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. If he focused hard enough, he could slip away from reality and picture you here with him.

“Get off your ass.” Your sharp giggle filled the room. “I know you’ve been at work all day, but can’t you find the energy to come and give me a kiss before you settle down?” Your shoulder pressed against the doorway, eyes latched on to Alfie. Course, you weren’t really there. Alfie’s head rolled to the side and he could vividly see your curls hanging down by your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him seriously. “I’m waiting, Mr. Solomons.” It didn’t take Alfie long before he was on his feet and striding across the carpet toward you. You, a figment of his imagination, felt so real in his brawny arms. He pressed his soft lips to yours happily, eager to feel your mouth move against his own. It had been so long. You lifted your small hands and fisted them in his hair, holding him flush against your frail form, ensuring he couldn’t get away from you, not that he would even attempt to. Alfie Solomons would just have to suffocate, unless you did first, because you weren’t breaking the kiss until one of you were unconscious from the liplock. Alfie hadn’t got a word in. His apology was unheard. His explanation existed only in his mind.

Cyril’s rough bark filled the room, drawing Alfie out of his thoughts. The colossal man stood in the center of the living room now, hands hovering in mid-air where imaginary you had just been standing. “Cyril!” Alfie shouted loudly, instantly silencing the animal who was no doubt riled up because of a bird hovering outside the window. “Lay down.” He ordered the mutt, who instantly obeyed. Cyril let out a soft whine, head resting on his paws as he stared at the door. Alfie, paying no mind to the dog, rubbed down his face and began to pace his living room. The daydream was gone. He was left to ponder reality. To his knowledge, you hadn’t once come to visit him. He didn’t blame you. He knew he should be happy that his plan of hurting you had worked, but he was just filled with guilt. The only woman he had ever loved was— Alfie was pulled from his thoughts again. Assuming it was the dog, he turned sharply on his heel to throw an insult toward the innocent animal before he froze. A loud knock filled the living room again and Alfie’s features hardened. Looking to the ticking clock in the corner, his heavy brows pulled together into a hard stare. Who the hell was coming to his house this late at night? You shivered on the porch, breathing heavily into your palms to warm yourself up. You could hear the bottoms of Alfie’s feet hit the floorboards powerfully with every step he took. The door opened wide and you both stood there in shock. You, surprised and embrassed. He was so handsome, towering over you with a look of surprise. Alfie was wide-eyed and beyond dumbfounded. He eyed you intently, taking in every little detail of your unforgettable face. “Y/N.” He whispered softly. You stood on the porch, staring up at him with unashamed emotion. You let it visibly show how strong your feelings for him still were, but you didn’t act on them. “Could I.. come inside?” You asked the man quietly. There was a quiver in your voice and you weren’t sure if it was caused by the nerves in your belly or the cold that bit angrily at your skin. You were sure it was from both. Alfie’s cheeks turned a dark shade of pink, instantly stepping out of the way so that you could come inside. “Cyril.” He warned as the dog jumped up excitedly. “Alfie.” You warned right back. “Let him say hello.” Frowning at the change in the man, you moved toward the large dog. Leaning over, your small hands traced his brown fur, ruffling it. “Hey, big guy.” You cooed, smiling when he licked at your arms. “Yes, yes, I know, I missed you too.” You giggled softly before kissing his ear and straightening. “Did you come around to see Cyril or was there something else you needed to say?” You gently brushed Cyril off of you before turning to face Alfie with a look of confusion. “What the hell has gotten into you, Alfie? You’ve turned into such an ass.” Staring at the man with pain now dancing around with the love in your gaze, you pulled your coat off of your body.

He didn’t notice your belly. “I’m just curious to know why you’re here.” He grunted before moving past you so he could sit down at the table. You stepped smoothly in front of him, chest skimming his lightly as you looked up at the much taller bloke. “To talk.” You told him softly, small hand pressing lightly to his chest to urge him to stay in place. “What the hell are you doing out so late?” He hissed. “I had errands to run and thought this was the best time to come by and see you. When you’re at work, the guards and Ollie won’t let me through.” Alfie frowned at that. The man looked briefly to your lips and caught sight of a purple bruise on the upper side of your neck. “Well.” He smiled forcefully. “Why come visit me? It looks to me as if you’ve already fucking found someone else, yeah, to spend your time fucking, right?” He pointed to the hickey. “You moved on fast, didn’t you?” He growled, turning away from you again, but you gripped his arm and pulled him back. He could shove you off in an instant. He was so much stronger, but he didn’t budge. He let you tug and pull and set him wherever the hell you wanted to. “Why the hell do you care? I’m not here to discuss my relationships with you, Alfie, I need to tell you something important.” The man looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, and if you knew anything about Alfie Solomons, it was that he couldn’t sleep alone. Not without you. “Well fucking spit it out then, pet, I don’t have all fucking night long to stand here. I’ve got things I need to get done, right, because nobody else is going to fucking do them.” You moved your small hand to his arm and squeezed it softly. “Would you just relax?” You sighed heavily. “I haven’t seen you this tense since the day I met you.” Alfie grunted under his breath. “Yeah, well, when you fucking lose someone, you fucking lose yourself sometimes, pet, yeah?” You swallowed quietly. “Look at me, Alfie.” He did. “Why did you end things between us?”

Alfie shook his head slowly before turning away from you and moving toward the sofa. You followed along behind him, fingers burning to touch him. “I deserve to know. You wasted 9 months of my life.” Alfie scoffed as he took a seat. “Wasted is a peculiar fucking word to use, don’t you think, pet. Right, the way I see it, you spent those 9 months—“ you shook your head. “I don’t want a lengthy, confusing explanation, Alfie. I want a straight forward answer. Why did you end things with me? Did you really just use me for sex?” The baker sat back against the cushion and rubbed down his face, exasperated. “You know, better than anyone, that I didnt mean what I said that day.” He whispered. “You were a good fuck, right, but all that messing around in the beginning led to a whole fucking lot more and there’s things you don’t understand. There’s people, bad people, bad fucking people that will use you to get to me.” You weren’t listening that intently. Your ears were ringing as you realized what exactly you’d come here to tell Alfie. “Yeah, well, all that ‘good fucking’ led to today.” You whispered. “I’m pregnant.” Saying the words aloud made them more real and you were overcome with another emotion. You wanted to be excited and happy, relieved to have told the man, but you were scared. Alfie’s beard twitched along with his upper lip and the man slowly directed his gaze to your stomach. “You’re pregnant?” He whispered. You nodded. “And.. it’s my babe?” You nodded again. “I’m three months along.” You whispered before leaning back against the couch. “I didn’t come here to tell you that you need to take responsibility. The guy I’m seeing, he’s treating me real good, says he’ll raise our son— oh, it’s a boy, he says he’ll raise the babe just like it’s his own.”

Alfie squinted at your words. “He’s my kid. I’m the father.” He pointed out matter of factly. “No other man is fucking needed, pet, you’ll move in here and we’ll raise the baby together.” You stared at the man in shock, staring at him as if he had two heads. “Alfie, I didn’t come here to say I want to be together again. I’m happy with the way things are currently. You ended things with me. You hurt me more than I ever thought possible. I don’t want you.” The words spewed from your lips like word vomit. The room grew hotter and your pretty colored orbs filled with tears. Alfie knew you didn’t mean what you said. He could see it so obviously. “You want the other man?” You stared up at him with a broken look. Your head nodded firmly, but your lower lip trembled. Alfie had always been able to read you like a book. “Then why the hell are you here? You could’ve fucking called. You could’ve wrote a fucking note, yeah? You could’ve told Ollie to tell me, right, but you fucking chose to come here, late at night, to my fucking home.” He was moving closer to you and you could feel your ribs tightening, constricting so tightly, it restricted you from getting full gulps of air to your lungs. “Alfie..” You whispered exhaustedly. “You ended things with me. You’re the one that shouldn’t feel anything. I, on the other hand, can feel as passionately as i want to. I can and will act on these feelings if I want to. Seeing you is the most I could do, so here I fucking am. Plus.. did you really want to hear about the existence of your child through a letter? I still love you, that won’t change, but I just came to tell you about the baby.” Your chest was rising and falling visibly with your heavy breaths and Alfie instantly regretted letting you into his home. 96 days apart was all about to come crashing down. Darby Sabini would know who owned Alfie Solomons’ heart. All because he had let you in. He should’ve slammed the door and told you to come to the distillery in the morning. At least people would be around and Alfie wouldn’t be so alone with his thoughts. He could feel your hot breaths harshly hitting his lips and it took every ounce of control the man had not to pin you to the sofa and bury himself inside you like he desperately wanted to do. He wanted to mold your bodies together and become one. Nothing outside of this house mattered. There was only You, Alfie, Cyril, and the baby growing in your stomach.

You were taken aback when the man pressed his cool lips to your hot ones. Every muscle in your body went limp and every bone in your body felt as if it had turned to jello. Your entire form fell forward and into him, unable to form a coherent thought. This is wrong. Your mind tried to scream over the frantic beating of your heart. You’re with Tommy. Alfie hurt you! Why are you letting him do this? He wasn’t hurting you now. You drew your knee up cautiously, on to the sofa, before you slowly wrapped your strong thigh around his hip and crawled into his lap. His large hands were eager as they slid along your body, pinching, tugging, and desperately trying to move your dress out of the way. You halted his shaky movements, savoring, instead, the way his mouth felt against your own. Your lips slanted together perfectly and your body felt as if it was drained of all its energy. The kiss left you as breathless as you would’ve been if he screwed you a hundred times in a row. You didn’t kiss him long, for the honest part of you pulled you made you pull back. “Alfie, I can’t.” You whispered softly to the man. You didn’t move from your position, but you knew this was wrong. This would hurt Thomas and although your heart belonged to Alfie, you couldn’t do that to him. You moved to stand, but found yourself trapped by the arms that wound around you. A shaky exhale escaped your lips, knowing you weren’t going anywhere until Alfie had gone to sleep. “Relax, pet. You’re already fucking here, right, we might as well make the most of it.” The room was silent after he spoke, you pondering his words. “If that was an invite to have sex with you, Alfie, I should punch your smug face.” You began to squirm once more, this time harder than your previous attempt. Alfie’s brows drew together. “No- dammit, be still! I’m just trying to fucking hold you, pet!” You ceased your movements, allowing your pained eyes to meet his. “Why?” Alfie was confused. Why were you hounding him so much. “Do you want me to say it’s because I love you?”

Alfie groaned lightly in slight irritation. This wasn’t the way he wanted to tell you. You folded your arms over your chest. “If you don’t tell me now, I don’t think you’ll get another chance.” You told him truthfully, prying yourself out of his arms so you instead stood between his knees. Cyril was hovering in the doorway, big brown eyes glued to the two of you. One of the red pillows had fallen to the carpet and you had to step over it in order to find your position back on the sofa, beside Alfie. “You know I love you.” He uttered. “But I want you to tell me.” You explained. “What’s the fucking point in doing so? It’s bloody pointless, innit. You’re with someone else now, right, so admitting my feelings to you, yeah, is only going to hurt the fucking both of us.” You sighed gently before slowly moving your small hand to the side of his neck. Your thumb pressed into his jaw, turning his face toward your own as you spoke. “Alfie, the last time I saw you, you told me you didn’t want to be with me anymore because I was complicated, I talk too much, and all I’m good for is sex. Anything you say to me right now is better than that.” You hated how forgiving you were, but this was Alfie. Your Alfie. He had a reason for everything he did. He took in a lengthy gulp of air before letting it out in a heavy sigh. “I said those things to get you away from me, right, it’s too fucking dangerous having you on my arm, pet. I do love you, alright, that’s a bit obvious, innit, right, yeah it is, because I fucking may have hurt you verbally, but that, in its own way, right, was for your own good.” You shifted slowly before moving closer to the man. “Why couldn’t you have just told me then? Do you know how complicated things will be now.” You pressed your small hand to his thigh and rested it there. “The solution is simple.” He whispered softly. “We can’t be together.” Right now. He added as an afterthought. Once Sabini was taken care of, he would have you on his arm. He would have the means to protect you and he wouldn’t let anybody take you away from him. You were having his baby. You swallowed tightly at his words before standing from the sofa. “Right, well, I’d better go.” Alfie gave you a look of confusion. “No, pet, it’d be wise if you stayed.” He stood from the sofa and moved to the window, peering out at the streets. Alfie cut on the porch light to illuminate the air. Snow once again fell from the sky, layering the streets like a blanket. You sighed heavily before slowly sitting back down. Hopefully this cleared up by morning.

Alfie turned the light off outside before moving toward you. “You can sleep in my bed if you want, I don’t mind having the sofa.” He rubbed his ringed fingers together before letting out a slow yawn. He was still wearing his work clothes. “I’m not taking your bed, Alfie. Your back and leg will kill you all day tomorrow if you sleep out here.” Alfie squinted slowly. “Well you’re not sleeping out here, either. I know how you get when the nightmares come around. I was gonna let Cyril sleep with you.” He tempted. You stood. “You’ll do just fine.” Turning on your heel, you set off in the direction of his bedroom. Your heels clicked audibly against the old, wooden steps, fingers trailing along the rail. Alfie was surprised by your words, but didn’t resist the offer. He followed along behind you, boots hitting the floorboards louder than your heels did. He was lost in his thoughts and you were lost in the home. Everything was so similar and yet so different. Making your way down the hallway and toward his bedroom, you turned the silver knob before pushing the creaky door open. His bed was made, pillows fluffed, and floor clean. It looked as if Alfie hadn’t been in here since you’d left. “Why the hell is it so clean in here?”

You cocked a brow before approaching the bed. Lowering yourself down on the loud thing, the springs bent beneath you and you sighed softly. It was such a comfy bed. “I haven’t fucking slept much.” He muttered, moving to the closet. “Alfie.” You rubbed your teeth together. “I’m not meant to feel bad for you, you know, you caused this. You didn’t have to break things off with me.” You reminded him before laying on your side and dragging your knees into your chest. The man’s back was to you, but as he unbuttoned his shirt and rolled the material off of his form, you could see his back muscles, tight and tense. No doubt from what you’d side. He tossed the shirt to you, ignoring what you said, but you gratefully took the material. Bending your arm behind your back, you pulled firmly at the zipper so that the fabric fell open and you could wiggle out of it. It was best to undress simultaneously so that you finished at the same time and neither of you had too much time to ogle the other. Kicking your clothing to the corner, you pulled his shirt over your body and closed the material. Shielding your breasts from him, you slid beneath the duvet and moaned softly at the unfamiliar, yet so familiar, feeling of the comfortable bed. Alfie pulled on a pair of sweats before he climbed in beside you. “Am I meant to hold you or keep my fucking distance?” He whispered softly, reaching his arm up and behind him so he could shut off the light. The room wasn’t completely dark, you could see the outline of the man at your side, so you studied him for a moment. Alfie’s scent was overpoweringly comforting and when he asked again if your silence meant holding you was alright, you rolled toward him. Your much smaller body maneuvered on to the top of his own and he couldn’t find it in himself to keep you tame. Yes, he couldn’t be with you, but enjoying one night of whatever you wanted wouldn’t hurt, would it? You slid one of your arms beneath his neck, fingers tracing his scratchy facial hair as you hovered above him. “I love you too.” You whispered breathily, brushing your lips against his own. The baker spread his knees lightly before moving his hand to your lower back so he could hold you in place on top of him. “I hurt you to keep you away from me, to protect you, Y/N.” He whispered. “Not because I don’t want you.” The mattress moaned as you shifted, bony knees sinking firmly into the bedding. “To protect me, Alfie, I got it, but you should’ve just told me the truth. I could’ve gone away for a while, you didn’t have to hurt my feelings. I still came back. Your plan wasn’t that great.” You pointed out, ushering to your current position.

“I don’t want to talk anymore, okay? I came to tell you about the baby, I’ve told you, so now.. we can just sleep?” It hurt you entirely too much to talk about the fact that you and Alfie couldn’t be together. Alfie folded his arm beneath his head, looking up at you under a watchful eye. He flipped you over in seconds, pinning you firmly beneath his much much bigger form. “Just let me look at you for a little while longer.” You squirmed lightly beneath him to get comfy before you wrapped one of your arms around his back, fingers tracing his spine. You should’ve felt ashamed for being with this man while another was at his home, no doubt thinking of you. Waiting for you. You couldn’t ignore your feeling though, Alfie was who you wanted. But even though he reciprocated those feelings, it wouldn’t work. Tonight was a night to remember. A night to reminisce on old times by jogging your memory. “Just kiss me, Alfie, otherwise I know you’ll hover there for an hour, contemplating it.” You whispered firmly, already guiding his lips to your own. You pushed your legs apart shyly, just to give him a place to rest his weight. He lowered himself gratefully, mouth moving against yours in a familiar dance. Your tongue brushed over his own and his curled around yours, little moans falling from the bear on top of you. Your heart melted at the sounds, ears burning to hear more and more of them. When morning came, Alfie would no longer be yours. You’d get on the boat and head back to Birmingham, but for tonight, you could pretend. Pretending seemed to be all you were good at anymore.

———————————————————

“Alfie Solomons?” Thomas whispered, legs propped up on his desk. His ankles were folded together on the top of the surface, cigarette dangling dangerously from his pink lips. “That’s her previous ‘beau’?” Polly nodded lightly, more invested in looking at her fingernails rather than directing her gaze to Tommy. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. What do you think she really went to Camden Town for, Thomas, to visit her mother or to see the father of her child?” Polly leaned forward, hands pressing firmly into the wood as she stood up. The swivel chair that she had been perched on rotated slightly with her movement. The sound of her heels clicking filled the room, fading as she left. Thomas let his head fall back, inhaling deeply. The smoke that filled his lungs escaped through his nostrils in a cloud, drifting away into the cool air before vanishing. He didn’t really care if you had gone to see Alfie. Alfie seemed incapable of any sort of love. He was entirely too flippant for his own good. No woman would appreciate that, surely. Then again, Tommy had never seen the man around a woman, let alone a woman that he’d knocked up. Discarding his cigarette into the bin, he pulled on his coat and laid his glasses down on the table. Making his way out of the room, he fingered the chain on his chest, completely calm. He had no worries. Yes, he cared for you. Yes, he was sure he would grow to love you. He wasn’t the type to get angry and throttle a man though, especially not Alfie. He’d just wait until you returned home and see what you had to say about the whole situation. He’d find out where your feelings lied.

———————————————————

You felt a little guilt that night when you laid in Alfie’s arms, your naked body pressed against his. You hadn’t regretted the sex, but you hadn’t gone to see him for it either. You weren’t sure why you’d even initiated it. One minute, you’re standing in Alfie’s living room, telling him that he can’t just use you for your body— even though he never would, then the next, you’re dragging him on top of you and begging him to make love to you. You weren’t sure why you did it, aside from the fact that the man owned your heart. You liked tommy, a lot, but the love you felt for Alfie wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. The deliciously dull ache between your legs was a firm reminder of what had happened a few nights ago. It would’ve faded by now if Alfie would’ve been his usual gentle self with you, but you’d been begging entirely too much for the man to be anything but easy with you. You could still feel his hot skin as it rubbed against your own, his harsh grunts filling your ear with every buck of his hips. You were sure you’d left indents in his skin from how tightly you were gripping on to his back. “Oh, Alfie.. please.” You’d whispered for the third time. His breaths were hot and heavy, hard pants as he groaned out in response. “Please what, pet? I’m not a fucking mind reader.” You could hear the amusement dancing in his words as he continued to rock on top of you. You placed your hands on his cheeks and stared up at him with a giggle that faded into a moan. “Harder, I want you to move harder.” Your nails sunk more firmly into the skin of his back, but you forced your hand flat against him when you saw him wince lightly. “I don’t want to fucking hurt you, right, you silly girl.” You wanted to relish in the feeling of having him inside you and when you were back in Birmingham, you wanted to remember exactly how this felt. “I want to remember this.. Alfie, please, I’ll be alright.” Your dainty fingers lifted to the side of his head, stroking his hair back and behind his ear. “What about the baby, yeah?” He whispered under his breath. “It won’t fucking hurt him, will it?” Your stomach flipped, heart warming instantly at his words. “Honey, he’ll be okay. He’s protected.” You assured him, pressing a soft kiss to his warm lips. Alfie was slightly reluctant, but the man finally obliged, after your reassurance settled within him. Dragging his hips back before he firmly pushed himself into you, his movements sent your eyes on an uncontrollable roll, lips re-locking with his own.

Climbing the steps to your home, you pushed the door open and hung your bag by the door, coat following. A breathy sigh escaped your lips before you looked around the room. All alone, again. You dropped down on the sofa and exhaled shakily. You would tell Tommy the truth. Eventually. For now, you wanted to think over the events from the last few days. You and Alfie had established only one thing; you were having a child. You didn’t know where you stood with him, still. According to him, things were too complicated and dangerous for you to be around him, so that morning when you left, you’d told him goodbye and had left without so much as hugging him. It would only make it harder. This was the parting you needed. You didn’t want him to hurt your feelings and beat you down. You wanted him to be honest with you. Tell you that he loved you and maybe one day you’d find your way back to each other. You shut your eyes and rubbed down your face. You needed to let him go. His life would always be dangerous, there was no room for you, and especially no room for a baby. Thomas would be your new focus. You would give your heart to him.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

————————————————————

Tagged: @thatsamegirl @peakyhoegh @ihclipse @callisen @hardygal69 @centerhabit @favouritereadings @goodiesintheclosetlove @buckypetal15

————————————————————

So I decided I’m gonna keep the baby in this I think? I haven’t done Dad Alfie yet and I want to mess around with it so I can see if ( eventually ) Alfie should be a Dad in ‘The Baker’. I know I haven’t updated that in a while!!! ( what’s wrong with me ahaha ) I’ll get on it ASAP!❤️ I’m in such a writing mood.

COMPLETED

#alfie imagines #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fic #tom hardy x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #thomas shelby

316 notes · View notes

misunderstood-shadows · 6 years

Text

(Requested) Rivals: Tommy x OC

Warnings: None really

Word Count: 1483

About: Anon: Hi!! i have a peaky blinders request -- Tommy meets and falls in love with a sweet, down to earth book keeper who he doesn't realize is the daughter of a brutal rival gang leader. But her family arranges her to marry the son of another gang (who she despises) and jealousy, angst and fluff ensue!

Edited/Beta-ed: No

She was something else entirely. Tommy watched as she and Lizzy giggled together. Her eyes briefly met his before darting back to Lizzy. His lip curled as she self-consciously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A pink tinge had risen on her neck, and Tommy watched as it darkened under his gaze.

He wasn’t sure what fascinated him so. She was a small, meek thing, not unlike a small mouse hiding in the corner. However, this mouse carried a revolver in her purse and had already proved she could manage herself.

Someone coughed, drawing Tommy’s attention back to the book’s in front of him. her careful handwriting laid out the winning’s and losses of the month, with notes about debts owing and owed. She was good at what she did, quick of hand and in counting. She hadn’t made a mistake yet and she always had the books ready when they were required.

Time passed quickly that day. The races were the next day so bets were flooding in, mostly thanks to the public powder trick Tommy had done yesterday. Arthur was still fuming about it, but Tommy was proving himself with the influx of money.

Tommy stalked through Watery Lane, children and drunks skittering out of his way. Anyone could see the Prince of Birmingham was in a bad mood, and the razor’s flashing in the brim of his hat were warning enough.

The subject of his wrath better watch herself; a storming was coming.

She woke the minute her head slipped out of her hand. In the corner, Tommy watched as she blinked sleepily, her hands smoothing her hair. It glowed gold and red in this light, the small fly-aways shining.

“I might retire, Mr Shelby,” she said, still seated. “If that suits you?”

He waved his hand, eyes focussed on the book in front of him. “Of course. Good night.”

She rose from her desk, tidying the stack of ledgers. She quickly and silently gathered her coat and hat from the stand behind her, and tucked her chair under her desk.

“I’ll be in first thing,” she vowed to him. “To finish these.”

He leant back in his chair, studying her silently. She was wearing another one of her brightly coloured dresses, perhaps the only colour in the shop. The flush he loved on her rose again, colouring her pale cheeks. She held his gaze for a moment, then her eyes darted away.

He stood, straightening his jacket. “I’ll walk you home. The Lindon’s are out for Blinder’s at the moment.” He caught her flinch, and frowned. “Is something the matter?”

She shook her head, her skin losing its flush. “They’re in Birmingham?”

“Yes, is that an issue?” He paused, gauging her reaction.

She shook her head vigorously. “No, Mr Shelby.”

He tiled his head, the motion reminding her of a lion she had once seen in a cage at the zoo; silently threatening. “I see.”

She shifted her grip on the hat in her hand. “I will make it home on my own. Thank you for your offer, Mr Shelby.” She inclined her head, then walked quickly from the room. Tommy watched her until she disappeared from his sight, then opened the window behind him. The two Blinder’s waiting there stamped out their cigarettes and approached the window.

“Follow her,” Tommy said. The men nodded then slipped silently from the alley.

She knew she was being followed.

She knew it was Tommy.

How he knew her secret, she didn’t know.

She did know, however, exactly why the Lindon’s were in town.

The next morning, she briefly considered taking the next train to London and never returning. She quickly dismissed the idea, already knowing she couldn’t outrun it forever. So, she put on her Sunday best, jammed her hat determinedly on her head and stalked out her door like she owned the world. She made it two blocks before a car pulled up beside her. She glanced over her shoulder, one hand in her purse, wrapped around the revolvers handle. A breath of relief escaped her when she recognised the Shelby car with Tommy behind the wheel. However, the look on his face soon had her regretting her decision not to leg it.

“Get in,” he said.

She hesitated, then climbed in beside him. “Thank-“

“You have two Lindon’s on your tail.”

She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. “Are you going to deliver me to them?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned onto the road that took them out of the city.

A lump rose in her throat and she sunk into her seat.

Tommy slammed the door behind him, and she flinched. He waited on his side of the car, gazing out across the field to the two horses grazing there. She slide across the seat, briefly debated stealing the car, then slid out. She shut the door then leant against it.

“How much-”she begun

“You father has a bounty on you head,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “100 pounds. A pretty price.”

She swallowed thickly. “I guess he’ll be here any minute to pick me up.”

He nodded and she forced down a whimper.

“Do you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “what he’s going to do with me?”

Tommy flicked ash from the end of his cigarette. “No.”

“He’s selling me to the Lee family. I’m to marry one of the boys there. A rapist. He’s already made it clear that I’m there to carry on the line. Is your 100 pounds worth it?”

Tommy flicked away his stub, then turned to face her. Though his expression was carefully guarded, his eyes held the flicker of betrayal.

“You lied to us. If I had known you were a Lindon-“

“What?” she snapped. “You would’ve told him earlier? Maybe held me hostage and bargained with me?”

He took a step forward, his breath warming her face. She was suddenly away of the smell of horses and smoke on him. She felt her cheek’s warm. Tommy’s eye darted downwards, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. He raised a hand to stroke her still pink cheek. “Or, maybe I would have claimed you sooner.”

Her breath stilled in her chest. “Claimed me?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “As mine.”

He leant in, pressing his forehead against hers. “You still lied to me.”

“I had no choice,” she whispered.

His lips were inches away from her, the warmth from his breath brushing her lips. She was suddenly very away of how small she was compared to him. The car, unyielding behind her, kept her trapped against his body. Moment before his lips touched hers, the sound of a engine drew them apart. They glanced down the road to see the Lindon car rattling towards them. Behind the wheel, her brother was thin lipped and grim. Her father beside him look slightly more gleeful, his eyes already glinting with the payment he would receive from the Lee’s upon her marriage.

Tommy’s calloused hand slid into hers. “Get in the car,” he whispered in her ear. “And hand me my hat.”

She did as she was told, sliding into the driver’s seat and reaching behind her for the flat cap. When she handed it to him, Tommy slipped the hat onto his head, and reached for his gun in his shoulder holster. He clicked open the chamber to check it was loaded, cocked it, then slid it back into its holster.

“Mr Lindon,” he called, the moment her father stepped out of the car. “I’m afraid you won’t be leaving with your daughter today.”

Her father snarled. “She’s mine, Shelby, and you’ll hand her over.”

“No,” Tommy said firmly. “She isn’t yours.”

“What,” Mr Lindon laughed. “You’ll marry her?”

“Maybe,” Tommy said. “But she doesn’t want to marry into the Lee’s, and I don’t blame her.”

“You gypsy bastard!” Lindon yelled. Her brother slid from the driver’s seat, reaching into his jacket.

“No,” Tommy said, drawing his own weapon. “Don’t do that.”

Her brother’s eyes darted to her, then he carefully slid away his weapon. “Come on, Dad,” he called. “Let’s go.”

“Not without your sister.”

“Leave her,” he said. His eyes darted past Tommy again. “She’s a Blinder now.”

She nodded at him and he gave her a small smile.

“Go,” he told Tommy. “Take her.”

Tommy held his gaze for a moment, a rare gesture of respect, before gesturing for her to slide into the passenger seat. He took his place behind the wheel and started the engine.

Outside, her father reached for his weapon, but thought differently. He retracted his hand, and stood aside.

He swore, on his wife’s grave, no gypsy, Blinder bastard would have his daughter. He would have her back, and she would marry the Lee boy, even if he had to kill every Shelby to do it.

#Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x oc

107 notes · View notes

kati-mariposa · 7 years

Photo

Guardians: Chapter 2

Characters: OC, Bill Skarsgard & Jeffrey Dean Morgan

*WARNING: Mild Language

Summary: Can be found in Chapter 1

[*DISCLAIMER: The actors do not represent themselves as actors, but as the characters I created to play out in the story.]

-Chapter 3

“What are you working on right now?” Jeffrey asked, casting a shadow by hovering over me as I sat on the beige couch.

“I’m doing a Christmas themed commission for someone who’s just as obsessed with the holidays as I am,” I replied with my eyes glued to the picture. I drew a stray line by accident and had to erase it gently, so that I don’t bend the paper or tear it. I’d die if that’d happen.

“But it’s not even Halloween yet,” he reminded me as he went around and sat on the loveseat diagonal of me.

“I’m almost always dreaming of Christmas even during Springtime,” I grinned when I glanced up at him, quietly chuckling under my breath.

He chuckled deeply in his chest and gave a warm smile towards me, grabbing a book from the coffee table to read. Sometimes he liked to relax and read anything he can find, while I enjoy drawing, for fun and for business, then practice writing on the side.

“Do you plan to go to bed soon? Or are you staying up to draw?” he wondered while scanning his book.

“Nah. I got plenty of time to work on it more tomorrow before I have to get ready for the Halloween party at Alexander’s house,” I told him as I sketched some new lines on the paper.

There was only silence between us for a minute or two, but it suddenly felt cold in the room. It also felt like a pair of eyes were burning through my head as I peered down at my sketch book. I eventually raised my head to check out my hunch and sure enough, Jeffrey had his dark hazel eyes pierce into mine, which made me uncomfortable and click my mechanical pencil out of nervousness.

“Right. The party. Do you have your costume ready?” his curious tone didn’t sound so pleased.

“Yep. I took care of the finishing touches just before I started drawing today. I only need to make sure I have everything together for tomorrow.”

“How will you be getting there?”

“Bill’s supposed to pick me up.”

“Is he dropping you off back home afterwards or is he planning on taking you to his apartment, into his bedroom for the night?”

I froze abruptly when he said the last sentence, which also began to make me uneasy and I bit my lip out of annoyance.

“Jeffrey!” I said irritated.

“What? I simply asked a question,” he tried to lie with his rough voice. I could tell he was being distasteful of Bill again without being so forward. Basically beating around the bush.

“Yeah, but you constantly try to make him look bad when he’s not provoking you or has done anything to deserve your rudeness,” I defended Bill. My voice began to rise a bit from the small intensity of the argument.

Jeffrey was offended that I snapped back at him for disrespecting my friend, but he had no right to talk about him like he was some kind of sleazy person. Sometimes, I felt like he purposely plotted ways to get me to not like Bill, but I couldn’t fully prove it and it seemed unlikely that he’d be that drastic.

“He’s a young guy. I was his age once and I know what’s on their minds at that time in their lives. He’s up to no good,” he explained putting the opened book face down on the coffee table. I put my pencil and sketch pad to the side of me in order to concentrate on the conversation with my “Guardian Godfather”.

“Oh he’s not like that! Give me examples of why you think “he” of all the other people I know, is such a bad person?” I challenged him loudly, crossing my arms and sitting with my feet planted to the floor for support.

“He’s a smoker,” his response was given.

“You smoke too. But he doesn’t do it so often and he rarely smokes around me because he knows I hate cigarettes. Does that make you a bad person for smoking?”

“No. But I’ve seen the look in his eyes, the way he sees you whenever you’re around. It’s obvious there’s something he wants from you and it’s usually the one and only thing on every man’s mind. In fact, I’m surprised he’s hung around for this long.”

He was pissing me off, so I stood up fast, firmly stomping on the floor and balling my hands into fists.

“Just stop it already! I can’t believe you would say those terrible things about him like that. He’s not what you think he is, so don’t ever talk about him that way!” I yelled at him with sheer anger.

He fixed himself on the cushion, clasping his big hands onto his grey pajama pants as rage also fueled his emotions high. He was silent as he scolded me through his black frame glasses, but he removed them to continue the stare down with me, like he meant business.

“Don’t give me that tone little lady,” he clenched his jaw.

“I’ll stop once you stop insulting Bill,” I dared to tell him. I was so worked up, my hands were nervously shaking, but I kept them firm by my side. The corner of my eyes were tearing up from Jeffrey’s words echoing in my mind. I blinked a few times and ultimately a tear or two rolled down my warm cheek. I couldn’t even make eye contact at that point, I was so upset with him.

“Wait a minute. Don’t tell me… Oh Lord,” he muffled while pinching the arch of his nose.

I didn’t say a word, but I was worried about what he was going to say next. Who knew what was going through his mind. His eyes were focused on the floor for a short few seconds before returning his attention towards me. Then, he started to chuckle, which freaked me out because after that, he grinned.

“You. Oh Kat, Kat, Kat. My little kitten,” he chanted slowly standing over me, showing off superiority, “Are you?”

“Am I what?” I hesitated.

“Sweetheart, are you in love with Bill?” he finished, snickering to himself.

“W-What?!” I was taken aback by his assumption.

“Are you?” he said as calm as he could maintain.

“Why are you like this? You used to not care and suddenly you’re making more of an effort to intimidate him. Why change now?”

“Answer the damn question,” he demanded.

“No! Even if I might be, I’m better off not telling you about it,” I snapped, partially lied to his face.

Deep down, I did kind of have feelings for Bill, but I would never admit it. I especially would never tell Jeffrey after the crap he’s been pulling. I picked up my drawing supplies from the couch and made my away around Jeffrey so I could head for my room. I was too emotional in front of him and I refused to break down and let him win this argument.

“Where are you going? We’re not finished talking here,” he shouted at me.

“You’re not my dad! This conversation is over,” I cried back, ignoring him down the rest of the hallway until I finally reached my bedroom, shutting the door behind me and locking it.

I then tossed my stuff onto my black desk and ran to the bed, crawling under the sheets and pouring my eyes out with unlimited tears. My sobs were discreet because I didn’t want him to hear me. The only things I heard after storming out of the living room was the footsteps of Jeffrey retreating to his bedroom at the end of the hall. He shut the door loud, startling me as I wept under the blanket.

I couldn’t understand it. He was never that way when I was first becoming friends with Bill. In fact, he welcomed him into the family even though we weren’t dating. As a matter of fact, he truly liked Bill then. For a year, Jeffrey showed his hospitality and trustworthiness to him, but something was definitely off nowadays. What did he mean by “the way Bill looks at me”? He saw me differently? It’s just too overwhelming, I thought, it made my head hurt. Things needed to go back to normal.

I grabbed my phone and was about to call Bill so I could seek comfort, but then I side-tracked. It didn’t seem wise to immediately call and complain about Jeffrey’s insults to the one person it was meant for, at least not right away, in my condition. If he heard even a sign of unhappiness and sniffles, he’ll automatically worry a lot and interrogate the crap out of me. Not that it was a completely bad thing, but I was too overcome with anger and sadness to express it to him then. I also didn’t want him to become even more hateful of Jeffrey, since I knew it could cause more problems between all of us.

I care for Jeffrey, but I also care for Bill. This was too much to bear in mind as I uncovered myself from the sheets to get some cooler air. I needed to do something. I couldn’t stay here for the night. I had to leave.

I sat up, pondering what to do. If I wanted to leave the house, I’d have to wait until Jeffrey fell into a deep sleep, but as a start, I had to pack what I was planning to wear for Halloween. So I jumped out of bed, searched and gathered all of my costume necessities, took out a dark red duffle bag from my closet and carefully packed my items inside, organizing at the same time. I would need to wait awhile until I could see that the coast was clear to leave to spend the night at someone else’s place.

“Really hate this,” I muffled under my breath before finishing my packing, then sitting on the bed, waiting almost impatiently for the time to sneak out like a mouse.

#bill skarsgard #jeffrey dean morgan #oc #guardians #chapter two #bill skarsgard x oc #bill skarsgard fanfiction #jdm #fanfiction #fanfic #jeffrey dean morgan x oc #bill skarsgard x reader #jeffrey dean morgan x reader #original character #trust issues #love story #romance #guardians fanfiction

11 notes · View notes