Peaky Blinders. One shot and imagines

Smoke and mirrors - Part 6 - Alfie x Reader

Alfie could feel his heart thump violently against the inside of his chest, as she stood in the doorway to the room, and smiled at him. She was beautiful, no, she was more than that; she was back to being the goddess that he believed her to be that night in Paris. The soft grey silken gown that she wore, showed more flesh than he had imagined; but he wasn't about to complain. In truth, even if he had wanted to, she had taken his breath away, and made it impossible for him to do anything but smile. He had never been one for poetry, for sonnets or love songs; yet as (Y/n) slowly made her way towards him, he could understand each and every one of them. Every word that the writer had placed on paper, now made sense. Alfie sure that all of them must have been written about the woman in front of him. The Jewish gangster gulping down a lump that had just formed in his throat, as the agent came to stand in front of him, carefully taking the glass of scotch from his hand, and slowly, oh so slowly, bringing it up to her red painted lips.

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She couldn't help but stare at him and smile, as he just stared at her in return. He was, not to put too fine a point on it, handsome, rugged........beautiful. Not that she would tell him that. Not that she would let him know that his charms were working on her. That she looked forward to seeing him every day. That the thought of listening to his stories and terrible jokes, made the biggest smile come to her lips. There was something about Alfie Solomons; something special. Yes, he was a little rough around the edges; he barked and growled, and was not averse to dealing with his problems, with threats and violence. But there was another side to Alfie, another side that she had grown more than a little fond of. There was a softness behind those beautiful eyes of his; eyes that seemed to change colour with his moods. The Londoner seeming to keep a soft grey tone, just for her. As she had told him back at the bakery, she could remember him from that night in 1917. She could recall the handsome young captain that stood out from all the boring dignitaries around them; a low-ranking officer when compared to the colonels and generals, yet he had still stood head and shoulders above all others. His eyes that night, so dark, that she could have sworn that with just the look they had shared, he had looked deep into her soul and knew everything about her. And here that man was again. Admittedly his dress uniform had been replaced by a tuxedo, and he was a few years older; but he was still making her heart race, as he had done that night in Paris.

She didn't want it to show that her breath had caught in her throat, as she made her way over to him. She didn't want him to know that when she had chosen her outfit for the evening, it had been with him in mind. It was strange, but she had chosen something a little more revealing in hope that it would mean that he couldn't take his eyes from her all evening. That any other woman would pale into insignificance, and he wouldn't be able to see them. (Y/n) having no desire to share his attentions.

Of course, if her bosses knew about this, she would be instantly pulled from the job and replaced by someone that could remain neutral. Someone that would not let their heart, their body, lead their mind. That would not, could not be drawn in by this breathtaking man. But she wasn't about to tell them. She wasn't about to be taken from this job. She could still do what was required; she could still get the information that her agency needed. It was just now; she could no longer kid herself that she didn't feel anything for the Camden Town gangster.

"My, my, my, Mister Solomons, don't you brush up well.........." (Y/n) said, as she moved to stand in front of him, and took the glass of scotch from his hands; before slowly bringing it up to her cherry red lips and taking a drink.

"And, if I'm not mistaken, a haircut and beard trim. You really are after impressing someone tonight." She continued. Sure, she could hear her blood race through her veins, as Alfie looked between her eyes and the lips that she had just licked a drop of liquor from.

"I didn't know that you and Thomas Shelby had that kind of relationship..........." A laugh coming from deep inside her, as Alfie furrowed his brows at the comment, before letting out an indignant huff.

"Believe me darlin, Thomas Shelby ain't my type................"

"Then what is your type.............Alfie?" (Y/n) interrupted, as she placed her hand on his chest. The two back to staring at one another. Alfie really just wanting to forget about going to Tommy's fucking party, in favour of picking up the woman before him and taking her to the bedroom; to prove not only on which side his bread was firmly buttered, but also what his type was. The big man finding himself slowly leaning down, her lips getting closer and closer. The sudden chiming of the clock breaking the moment. Alfie fighting the urge to throw the thing from the window as (Y/n) backed away slowly.

"Well, I think that is our cue to leave. Wouldn't want to be anything but fashionably late to your friend's party, now would we.........And I am very interested to finally get to meet this Thomas Shelby......." The agent smiled, as she placed the now empty glass on the small table next to her. Alfie reluctantly nodding, as he followed (Y/n) out into the hall, before helping her on with her coat and then opening the door. The Londoner just hoping, as they made their way towards the elevator, that whatever fucking magic Thomas Shelby seemed to be able to cast over everyone else around him, it wouldn't work on his smoke and mirrors goddess.