Peaky Blinders Imagines.

•Alfie Solomons•

Thick unrelenting fog swirls and dances along the train tracks, blocking your view out of the carriage window as the train finally begins to pull into St Pancras Station. It's a bitter Monday morning, and against your strongest protests, you're braving the biting winds ravaging London, when you could (and rather would) be tucked up warm in bed. It had been a sudden and unpleasant surprise when your brother Tommy had told you that you were to go to London to meet with a mysterious Alfie Solomons to discuss some business the two had to settle, why Tommy could not go himself was as much a mystery to you as any of those in the books you read. So here you are, bracing yourself as your heals touch the platform of the station, the wind already battering your body.

Wrapping your coat tighter around yourself, you begin to walk out towards the front of the station, where you had been assured that a car would pick you up to take you to this so called 'bakery' that Mr Solomons runs. A small and insignificant consolation that you would at least not be left to wander the streets of London in the icy cold of mid-winter. As you descend the steps leading out of the station, you spot the all too obvious Bentley that would be your ride. The driver notices as you approach, hopping out of the car to open the rear passenger door for you, you give him a grim smile as a thank you, climbing in and relaxing into the plush leather seat.

As you make your way to the meeting the fog only seems to become denser, so much so that you cannot see anymore than a foot out of the window. So, when the car finally stops it comes as a slight shock to you. Within moments you are greeted by one of Mr Solomon's cronies, although he's lanky and young- not exactly threatening. "You're not Thomas Shelby" he states looking you up and down, you roll your eyes at him "clearly not genius, now show me to Alfie Solomons before I freeze to pavement" you snap crossing your arms over your chest. Slightly taken back by your aggressive statement, the young man gestures to the door of the 'bakery', "right this way miss" his tone nothing short of sarcastic, making you have to refrain from hitting him.

You're led down a series of corridors and hallways, all of which stink of whiskey, typical; and with every male you pass you can feel their eyes burning into you, almost as if they've never seen a woman before. What feels like an eternity later, you're stopped outside of the doors to an office, the young man knocks on the door before entering, you follow in behind him, "Mr Shelby seems to have sent this... woman in his place sir" he speaks before scurrying out of the office- closing the door behind him. You finally get to look at the man you're meeting with, and as your eyes fall upon him, the air is knocked out of your lungs like a punch to the gut... he's kind of hot...

The man in front of you stares at you for a long moment, his eyes greyish blue eyes taking in every inch of you. "You're not Thomas Shelby" his gruff voice echoes throughout the room. This again. You place your hands on your hips sassily, "that's the second time I've heard that today Mr Solomons, and quite frankly, I'm not here to discuss the fact that I am not Mr Shelby" you retort, taking Mr Solomons by surprise. He leans back in his chair, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest, "well you're quite the feisty little lady aren't you? Please, take a seat" he offers, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. You oblige, making sure that your heels click on the wood floor as you make your way to the chair before sitting, crossing one leg over the other in impatience.

Mr Solomons stands up from his place, moving over to a table in the corner of the room where an array of alcohol is situated, "can I interest you in a drink?" He asks rather politely considering his appearance suggests the opposite of refined etiquette, your crimson lips curve into a slight smile as you take in the rippling back muscles as he moves, "I'll have a whiskey, I know it's your speciality" you reply. He hands you your drink, taking a sip, you wait patiently for Mr Solomons to return to his seat. "Well, since you quite clearly know who I am, may I ask who, exactly, you are" he finally speaks, you lean back in your seat, taking another sip from your glass, "Well Mr Solomons, I'm Y/N" you tell him, making him raise an eyebrow at you- something you cannot help but find attractive in the strange man. "Please call me Alfie, so Y/N, do you have a last name?", the way that your name rolls off of his tongue makes your skin flush with heat; "my last name is both irrelevant and unnecessary Alfie, it is the business that is important" you almost purr, and with that he does not push you any further.

•

The meeting ends in laughter, both you and Alfie getting along far better than you had presumed. You stand from your seat, a smile plastered on your face, "Well it was lovely meeting you Alfie, but I must be off, places to be, people to see and all that" you say, masking the disappointment of having to leave, "it was a pleasure to meet you too Y/N" Alfie replies, taking your hand in his own and kissing the top off it- making you blush slightly. You begin to make your way to the door when Alfie's voice catches you off guard, "how long will you be in London for?", you turn your head to look at him, a sheepish grin rests on his features making him look rather like a shy schoolboy, "three days or so, why?" You reply. Alfie begins to move towards you, his movements are slow- almost as if he fears that he may scare you.

You turn your body to him now, frozen in your place in anticipation for what he is to do. He stops a few inches away from you, and it is only now that you realise how much he towers over you- even with your heels on. "Well, I would quite like to take you out, give you a true tour of London, if you are agreeable of course" his voice is a low rumble in your ears, all you can think about is the close proximity between the two of you, and how easy it would be to just lean up and kiss him. You can see in his eyes that your long pause brings a deep sense of dread to him, "I guess I could pencil you into my diary" you whisper making him chuckle- a sound like music to your ears. "I guess it's a date then" he mumbles as he leans down to place a kiss on your cheek- leaving the skin there burning when he pulls away.

A surge of confidence rushes through you, before you know it you've grabbed him by the collar of his shirt pulling him down to meet your lips, the kiss is short but sweet- taking Alfie completely by surprise. You pull away, opening the door and strutting out, "Pick me up at 7 on Wednesday, I'll be waiting" you call out behind you as you walk away, leaving a dazed and love-drunk Alfie to stare after you.

'I am so dead when I get home' you think with a childish grin on your face as you walk back out into the winter cold burning with heat.