#alfie solomons x ofc

[justrainandcoffee]

Deal (Tommy Shelby vs. oc!Solomons) + (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 1

“You're a lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf.”

Masterlist

Summary: Why is Thomas Shelby in front of Mrs. Solomons? Just business. Tommy just needs information. But first he needs to deal with Rose Solomons who, unlike her husband, has no sympathy for the man sitting in her office. And yet, they know how to make a deal. "A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby."

Warnings: Mentions of dead, killing. Allusions to sex. Mentions of physical violence. Misogyny.

Words: 4.5k. || Special thanks to @look-at-the-soul who helped me today 🙃♥️.

1924.

Yesterday

"The bastard is a fookin' ghost!" yelled Arthur.

The Garrison was empty except for those members of the Peaky Blinders, allowed to be there. There was a person that they couldn't find. An Irishman called Nicholas Baker, possible member of the IRA. Last time they saw him, it was he when he shot a blinder and left him to die in the streets. He escaped before Arthur or anyone else could catch him.

Since then, the brothers and the rest of the gang were looking for him no succeed. Not just because he killed a man they know, but also because they were sure he was a spy.

"Maybe he's dead," suggested Isaiah.

"No. He's alive and living in London." This time, Tommy Shelby's voice could be heard all over the place. "And Elias is not the only person he killed. And his real name is Sean Patrick O'Finn."

Tommy dropped a newspaper in front of his brother and Arthur read it out loud.

"His own sister! He fookin' killed his sister!"

"And tried to killed his wife as well, according to the neighbours. She escaped." Tommy sat in his usual place as he lit up a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He looked at Arthur and the rest of his men.

"We have nothing, then! He can be in middle of fookin' Russia by now." Arthur was frustrated as usual.

"I don't think so. I think he's still there in London, and as we know, police is useless. London is a big city and they don't care. People are killed every day" Tommy lit another cigarette "but I'm going to find him. And I'm going to put a bullet in his head, too."

"You don't know where to start, Tommy!" Arthur furrowed brow and look at his brother.

"Yes, I do know where to start. I need to talk to his wife."

"But do you know where this woman is, Tom?"

"Yes."

.

The Solomons residence in London was quiet. Rose was working and Alfie just arrived there over an hour ago. He was about to rest his back in bed when their maid announced that he had a call.

"It's Mr. Shelby," the woman said. She saw him do a grimace, but he said nothing to her.

"Thanks, Doris."

Alfie entered his office and closed the door behind before picking up the phone. Every time Tommy called it meant problems, usually for him. But this time what Tommy said, took him by surprise.

"Are ya mad?"

"I just need her this time, Alfie."

"She will kill ya, mate."

"No, she won't. Your wife isn't a killer."

"Maybe. But the women around her are. Honestly, Tom, they're a pack of fuckin' bloody wolves claiming for men flesh. You're a little lamb entering the territory of a hungry wolf. Rosie is the leader of that pack, if she gives the order next time I'll see ya it'll be in your own fuckin' funeral... If I find your body." On the other side of the line, Tommy opened a drawer and picked up some papers and started to take some notes. Sometimes Alfie exaggerated, especially if he was talking about his wife. As far as Tommy knew, Rose Solomons just worked helping women in need and in the streets fighting for equal rights. The few times he saw her in Alfie's place she didn't seem to be a menace to anyone.

"They're just women, eh?"

"My Rosie isn't just a woman, Tommy. She's me wife." Alfie sighed "Rosie will decorate the fuckin' Christmas tree they put on her workplace with your balls."

"I'll take a risk, then. Just wanted to inform you."

"Fine. But I'm not going to tell her yet. I prefer she knows it on her own… good luck then, Tom."

1924.

Today. London.

It's only 7am and the Solomons were making love for the second time in the morning. Rose didn't know what her husband was thinking, or feeling, that he had waking up so passionated but she wasn't complaining either.

"Alfie… I can't… god…" her back arched and her toes curled once last time until she fell on the mattress, completely satisfied. She could feel Alfie finish as well.

The man stayed on top of her few minutes more, catching his breath, before rolling on his back, laying next to her. Alfie opened his arms and invited her to be against his chest.

"Are you fine?" she asked kissing his neck.

"Feelin' like a God now, luv. Why do ya ask? You're talking like we never fuck like this before."

"I ask, because I know that sometimes you use sex to channel your frustrations and I just want to know you're fine."

"I'm perfect, Rosie. Gimme some time and we can repeat it."

She laughed. "No way you still have energy, Al. I can't, I've to work. Tonight, maybe."

In response, Alfie kissed her. That same night, probably she wants to kill him. He had talked to Tommy the day before and she didn't know. Alfie was just trying his best to calm her before the storm. Although spending time with her, it was always beautiful. The kiss continued until she pulled apart slowly. He caressed her cheek. Rose knew that Alfie definitely was hiding something from her, but she didn't know what. After one last brief kiss, she sat down in bed and then walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

Alfie stayed in bed, thinking about his friend going to his wife's place. In all those years, over a decade since it was founded, he visited her school just twice. Once when it was inaugurated, when they met each other again, and the other one after the war. They had an implicit deal: "You don't interfere with my business and I don't interfere with yours" even if they asked each other for some advice, suggestions or help. He was a bit worried about her, even when he knew that Tommy wasn't going to hurt her.

When Rose went out the bathroom, she found him sitting in bed, stretching his back, ready to have breakfast. She approached him and played gently with his hair.

"Thought you're going to join the shower."

Alfie put his hands on her hips and pushed her down on his knees. She was wrapped with a towel and when Alfie kissed her shoulder, he smelled the fresh soap on her skin.

"Ya didn't invited me."

"Since when you need invitation?" she chuckled and put her arms around him. Her hands were stroking the back of his neck. Rose was staring at him, "are you sure you're fine?"

"I am, Rosie."

"Okay," she didn't believe him, but she wasn't going to pressure him either. Instead, she kissed him and he reciprocate immediately. Her towel fell on the floor and she felt him ready to be with her once more.

Never two without three.

.

Arrow house

By the dawn of the next day, every Shelby knew where the leader was going. If they had any opinion about it, they didn't share it. A car was parked outside Arrow House with three men in it.

"I'm going now," announced Tommy. His black coat was over a chair and he took it. "Johnny Dogs and the Smiths are coming with me."

Arthur chuckled. "Johnny Dogs? And the Smith brothers? Ain't too much, Tom? Four men to visit just a bunch of pussies and tits? They're just chicks."

"Not according to Alfie."

"According to fookin' Alfie! The fookin' Alfie! Ya believe him?"

"Yes. Alfie will never allow me to be near his wife, if he didn't know now that she's safe. I know that. And if she's safe that means she's surrounded by an army."

"Are ya planning to kill them?"

"I don't kill women, Arthur. And I don't want problems with Alfie. It's just in case."

"So take me with ya!"

"Arthur, no offense but you don't know how to deal with a Solomons. Stay here and take care of the business, eh? I'll be back at night, probably or tomorrow."

"Tom! Tommy!" the eldest brother yelled but the other man already reached the door.

"Goodbye, Arthur. Tell Pol, that I left her a letter under the flowerpot."

.

Pebblebrock was Rose Solomons' former manor and prison hell at the same time. Now it was a beautiful school for girls and at the same time it served as a roof for some women who had run from their abusive homes.

As the owner, she was the one in charge even when she had several women in which she trusted working with her side by side. But the final decision on everything was always hers.

Alfie, and Tommy too, were right. The place and Rose, were surrounded by women specifically trained to kill. It wasn't uncommon for men to try to reach those who they already hurt. The rules were crystal clear MEN ARE NOT ALLOWED IN PEBBLEBROCK. The ones who didn't understand the warning were now resting eternally in a cemetery.

Men were only allowed if they were doctors or priests. The institution had nurses and two nuns who volunteered to help there. But sometimes a doctor was required, same with priests. Any other men should call for an appointment, only under that circumstances their entrance were allowed.

.

"Look at this fucking place."

From the road, Tommy, Johnny Dogs and the Smith brothers were watching the entire property. The gardens extended beyond their sight.

"Full of pussies, it's my fucking paradise. An all-you-can-eat-fucking restaurant" commented Gregory Smith. Except Tommy, the rest of them laughed.

.

Rose heard the crows. That was never a good signal.

"Now who?" she thought for herself. A lot of names crossed her mind, but none of them was the right answer.

Five minutes later a knock on her office's door brought the answer.

"Who?" she asked not believing her ears.

"Mr. Thomas Shelby, Mrs. Solomons" repeated the woman in front of her. "He says he needs you."

"The Thomas Shelby?"

But unaware of who he was the other woman didn't respond.

"Yeah, well. Tell him I'm coming."

"There are three other men with him, Mrs. Solomons."

Of course.

The day was beautiful. Cloudless sky and almost no wind. It'd be perfect if not for Tommy Shelby in her property.

"Didn't you read the sign?" she said greeting them "men are not allowed here."

"Good morning, Mrs. Solomons," said Tommy with deep voice.

"It is, Tommy. It is."

It always was intrigued him that a man like Alfie could be so devoted to a woman who barely reached his shoulders. His Rosie. Alfie Solomons could start a war against the king and the Pope if something happened to that woman.

Gregory Smith had another idea.

"We don't follow rules, sweetheart. We're the peaky fucking blinders."

"The Peaky who?" Rose looked at the man "Who the fuck are you?"

"The audacity of this bitch. It's a Solomons, eh?"

"Gregory…" warned Tommy.

"Yeah. I'm a Solomons. Proud of it. But I'm quite dumb, Gregory. So I need your help, I only know how to count to two. Like, one, two… what's next?"

"Three."

BANG.

A woman stading behind Rose was holding a gun.

The bullet impacted his head. The man was already dead when his body collapsed on the ground. Rose just looked her pocket watch and then clicked her tongue.

"Men are not allowed here," she repeated. "You understand the warnings now or you what to be the next?"

Tommy looked at the dead body.  The blonde woman behind Rose was staring at him and Tommy knew that she wasn't joking. One more step and it couldn't be any difference between a Gruyère cheese and him.

Tommy sent Johnny Dogs and the remaining man again to the car. He also gave his gun to his friend.

"Ya sure, Tom?"

"Just go, Johnny."

When Tommy turned around again, he saw the woman extending her arm, she moved her hand "gimme the fucking cap."

Again, Tommy did what she said. She gestured him to follow her.

The interior of her office was elegantly decorated. An expensive rug on the floor matched the wallpaper and the mahogany desk. Lots of books were perfectly ordered on the bookshelves. Rose Solomons invited him to take seat on one of her velvety armchairs. Tommy followed her with his eyes. Now his cap was over the head of a marble bust representing Aphrodite, just behind her, looking at him. The woman sat behind her desk and put her hands under her chin.

"We have a beautiful garden here. A greenhouse full of exotic flowers and plants. Was your man married? I'd like to send the widow some flowers."

"He wasn't."

"Better, then."

Her brown eyes never leave his blue ones and same as Alfie, he felt she was trying to anticipate his movements. But Tommy didn't express any emotion.

"So? What the hell is doing Thomas Michael Shelby here? My husband isn't here."

"Not looking for Alfie."

"That's fucking new considering the mutual obsession you have with each other."

Tommy curved his lips, barely smiling. "I'm here purely for business, Mrs. Solomons."

"I'm not the kind of person you do business with."

"You are."

Both of them remained in silence for several seconds. Probably she was unaware of it, but Tommy noticed some mannerisms in her that he had witnessed in Alfie before. She was thinking while playing with her fingers. Impossible to say who copied who.

"What kind of business? Illegality has no place here," she finally said.

"I need to know where a certain man is."

Before she could say something Tommy saw the door opening and a beautiful woman in her mid-forties, entered Mrs. Solomons' office. She greeted him with a movement of her head and then started to talk to Rose in French but she stopped her almost immediately.

"This isn't going to work now, Geraldine. The man knows french," she said pointing to him "same as Alfie he fought in France during years. Tell Edith to come. She speaks Hebrew."

Geraldine nodded before leaving again.

"You do that often? Speaking other language in front of strangers?" Tommy settled in the armchair.

"Don't you do the same? I'm sure that speaking Romani is very useful if you want to express something to a friend or relative but you don't want the other to know what are you saying. Don't judge me, Mr. Shelby."

Edith, Tommy asummed it was her, was barely in her 20s, probably she was still a teen. Young and with a cheerful face, the girl approached Mrs. Solomons and both of them started to talk in Hebrew, a language he couldn't understand. For a moment, Rose looked at him sideways.

"Thanks, Edith" she said and the girl left without looking at Tommy. "One of your men tried to sneak in my school. Or they're fucking dumbs or they're really ready to visit God."

"Fucking hell…" Tommy rolled his eyes before breathing deeply. He was sure it wasn't Johnny Dogs but the other Smith. "Listen, Mrs. Solomons, I didn't give the order. I didn't know."

"I know, he acted by his own. Good news is he's alive. Bad news is my girls are taking care of him. It depends on you what I'm going to do with him. Alfie knew you were coming, didn't he?"

"I called him yesterday."

Rose sighed "Yes, of course he knew. Of course he fucking knew," his actions that morning now it made sense to her. Not because it wasn't unsual for them to have sex in the morning, but because there was something in his eyes that his mouth wasn't saying. And after all those years together, Rose knew him very well. "Anyway… what do you want do with your man, Mr. Shelby?"

"Can I smoke?"

"If you go next to the window and put your hand with the cigarette out, I don't have any problem. But I don't want smoke here."

She saw how he stood up and walked towards the window. That one in particular faced one of the gardens where the rosebushes were. In spring and summer, the sweet smell of roses invaded her office and it was something that she really liked.

When that morning Arthur asked him why he took three men with him just to visiting a school and women's residence, Tommy  was exploring his chances. Better Gregory Smith than him. He trusted Johnny Dogs, he was a loyal, obedient man. But the Smiths…

"Kill him if you want," Tommy finally said "if my man can't follow my orders, then he should face the consequences. This is your place after all, Mrs. Solomons."

"Edith told me he was screaming that he wanted to avenge his brother."

"Yes. The one you kill it was his brother." Tommy glanced at her. A ghost of a smile was on his face.

"I never killed anyone, Mr. Shelby."

"You don't need to hold a gun and shoot to be a murderer. Most of the murderers just give the order behind their desks."

"Well, he'd be alive if he hadn't been an asshole. It's all about the rules, Mr. Shelby. The sign is there for a reason and if you ask me, you don't seem very concerned about your man's death."

"Rules, eh? Something tells me you're not very fond to follow them, either, Mrs. Solomons. How was the prison?" Tommy blew another puff of smoke out the window, but kept looking at her.

"Pretty cold. Full of cooties and rats. I named one in your honour, that's a tradition that we the Solomons have. Name a goat, name a rat… How's Arfah, by the way? Alfie misses him."

"Thanks for the honour, Mrs. Solomons. Arthur wanted to come. I told him he doesn't know how to deal with a Solomons."

"Oh," she grinned. "And you do?"

"I'm pretty confident about it. It worked in the past."

"I have no doubts about it. But I'm not my husband, Mr. Shelby. I don't fall for a pair of blue eyes and a chiseled face and most of all, I don't trust men."

Tommy threw the remaining of his cigarette in a basket that was there and walked again to the seat in front of her. He crossed his legs and rested his hands over his stomach.

"Do you want to fuck me, Mrs. Solomons?"

"Yes. Just bring me a bottle of cyanide to accompany the moment. And then I want to hug a black mamba. Your place or mine?"

Tommy chuckled. "Wherever you prefer, sweetheart."

Far away from being intimidated by the confidence he was exuding, Rose just scratched her chin.

"Alfie accepted? I mean, if this is the way you deal with a Solomons..."

"Never asked."

"Oh, you should have. The answer maybe could suprise you. But, let me tell you something, Tommy. Can I call you Tommy?" he nodded. Rose left her armchair and approached the man. He followed her with his eyes. Her face was now in front of his, their noses were touching. Both pair of eyes were staring at each other. Tommy felt her breath on his skin "I know who you are, Tommy. Reputation precedes you. I know how you do business with women. But here's the thing: I'm not them. And yes, I'm a Solomons, yes Alfie and I we have lot of similarities. But I'm not Alfie. I'm not interesting in you as a man and if your cock is the only thing you have to offer me, you're wasting your time here… sweetheart." Rose inhaled deeply "God! I never killed anyone, but I swear the devil keep tempting me. How about having your head as a trophy hunting hanging on this office? But…" Rose moved her head back again "as I said, I'm not a murderer."

"Alfie is a lucky man, Mrs. Solomons," Tommy said once she returned to her seat behind the desk.

"Is he?" She tilted her head.

"Believe me." Tommy straighted on his armchair "and I'm sure If something happens to him, I'm sure you're going to heard the devil that keeps telling you to kill someone."

"Be sure of that. If anything happens to my Alfie, the only one who can stop me is Alfie himself. I hope nothing happens to him, EVER. You know about it, don't you?. Your late wife, we knew what happened. I can't imagine the pain."

"No, you can't imagine. But I'm getting over it." Tommy cleared his throat "Mrs. Solomons, I need information."

"In exchange of…"

"Mutual respect."

Rose snorted. "Yes, sure. Alfie could be delighted when I tell him. Information means business, Mr. Shelby. And whiskey is for business, innit?"

She opened a cabinet in her desk and put a bottle of whiskey with the Solomons logo on it. Behind her, were two glasses that she grabbed. A rose was engraved on them.

"I didn't know you drink," he said.

"Only in very few occasions. I prefer just tea for the rest of the day. So? You tell me."

Tommy drank a sip of whiskey before talking again. In his mind the image of Elias dead on the streets of Small Heath appeared again. Contrary to Gregory Smith, Elias was a good man. Her widow was pregnant and a payroll wasn't enough for the woman to compensate her for her husband's death. Yet, it was the only thing that Tommy could do.

"I'm looking for Mrs. Baker."

"There are several, Tommy. It's a very common name. Any details?

"It's an Irishwoman. I don't know her appearance but her husband killed her sister-in-law. It means his own sister."

"Sonia," mumbled her, "but the last name isn't Baker. It's O'Finn. Although she said that prefers her own surname. I'm going to keep that information to me until you tell me what the hell is going on."

From the murdered committed in Birmingham to the one in London's underground. Tommy told her about his suspicions that O'Finn was a member of the IRA and how he, Tommy, was now a target of them. Again.

"If that's true," she replied "then no matter what, your head already had a price and it's not going to be me the one hanging it on my office, but them. Nowadays it's very easy to send a message to the other side of the map. A telegram or a phone call… I don't understand why do you want to talk to this woman if he already communicated with his people."

"Because I don't think he did that. He's hiding. He's a fucking rat."

"Ok. Well, there's a lot of problems first. Mrs. O'Finn, she's not in conditions to talk. Even if she can, you're not allowed to be near her and this is not negotiable. These women are under my wing. Not you, not fucking Churchill can be near them. I don't give a fuck if you bring an order from the fucking president of I-don't-know-where. Understood? I have women specialized in talk to women with the kind of trauma that Sonia has, so, think about twice before suggesting another way to do this."

"The less people know about it, the better, Rose."

She pointed to the door, silently. Tommy sighed. "Fine. But I prefer that you can be present. And me too. Or at least I want to hear everything by myself."

"Agree. We have a place we can use. I need to tell you, or better say, reminder you that Sonia is highly traumatized. Yes, she's alive but the price she paid…" Rose stood up again but this time she walked to one of her bookshelves and picked up a carpet, although to do it she had to climb a ladder. "Tommy, I don't have this rule of "men aren't allowed" just because I'm fucking misandristic bitch, I'm not. I believe in equal rights. I fight for equality. I have that sign because people here, women, kids… are afraid of your kind. I have a register for every single woman that lived here since 1911 when I inaugurated this place. Open the folder."

Tommy obeyed and his first reaction was exactly what Rose hoped to get "Shit…"

The first page was the document of a woman who lived there in 1914 before volunteering as nurse in France, Rose never saw her again. Her name was Rita Brown, 20 years old. She escaped from her house because her father was an abuser. He ended up cutting her face marking a cross on her.

"I don't allow men, because we don't know what kind of bastard will cross that gate. Your man, that Gregory, he's not the first. Dozens before him, I'm genuinely surprised that if you talked to Alfie yesterday he didn't mention my women."

"He did."

"So you knew."

Tommy nodded and Rose studying his face laughed . Suddenly she understood. "You bring this bastard on purpose! You fucking did! You wanted him dead. Fucking hell, Tommy. I heard things a lot of things about you and I'm still impressed. The brother, too? You wanted me to rid off the other guy, too?"

"Why not?"

"Fine. I don't give a shit. One less." She returned to her seat and rang a bell. The same young girl called Edith appeared. Both of them talked in Hebrew again and Edith went out again once they finished. "We have an agreement, it seems. Now my payment."

Tommy opened his coat and placed two payrolls on her desk.

"I appreciate the effort," she said no looking at the money. "But I'm not interested it in cash, although if you don't want it. I can use it to buy something for the school like a new piano for the girls and some violins. A donation."

"I don't want it," he confirmed "then what's your price, Mrs. Solomons?"

"A soul for a soul, Mr. Shelby. I want a man dead."

"Who?"

"Churchill's right hand man."

Next part.

...so? 👀

[leenieweenie12]

You're Too Sweet For Me

Ok this is literally the first little fic I've ever written (and completed) so please give me the tiniest amount of grace, I am begging you. I am so afraid to post this but I figure, why the hell not?! Gotta live a little. Also side note, I know this is so cliche to take place in a flower shop but I am ~unoriginal~ and that's what I came up with.

Warnings: none, this is fluff

Words: 1,213

Inspired by none other than the lovely Hozier and his new song Too Sweet

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

The bell over the door chimed, letting her know that a customer had just arrived. 

“Be with you in a minute!” she called from the side room where she was arranging a colorful spring bouquet. 

“S’alright, it’s just ol Alfie,” a familiar gruff voice hollered back. 

She smiled to herself and glanced at the clock above the doorway. Five o’clock, right on time. She wiped her hands on her already dirty apron and walked out to the main shop. Her dear friend Alfie Solomons was standing with his back toward her, looking at the rows of blooms spread around the room. He had his signature long black coat and hat on, his small cane clutched in one hand. 

“Is it Wednesday already, then?” she asked, placing a hand on Alfie’s shoulder. “Could’ve sworn it was still Tuesday.”

“That’s the thing about the days, love, once one ends, the next one begins,” he put his arm around her waist and gave her a small sideways hug. “Got anything exciting going on back there?” his head tipped slightly to the side room.

She shrugged. “Nothing too thrilling. Come back and give me a hand, would ya?” 

She walked ahead of him into the small area that was dedicated to arranging. In a glass vase on the counter was a sprawling bouquet of peonies, roses, and cosmos. 

“Think Mr. Klein stepped out on the missus again,” she snickered. “This is the third arrangement he’s ordered just this month for her.” 

Alfie reached out and gently touched one of the peonies with a calloused ring adorned finger, a funny sight to see from such a burly man. “Yeah, well,  I can’t blame the man. Mrs. Klein is about as irritating as they come, with that God awful nasally voice of hers constantly droning on about fuck all.” He took half a step back to admire the bouquet in its entirety. “Put some larkspur in there, add a little height.” 

She chuckled and shook her head, “You always have to have a say in my work, don’t you?” Despite her words, she turned and grabbed a few stems of the purple larkspur in the bucket on the counter and carefully added them to the vase. “But you’re always right, which you know annoys the hell out of me.” 

The man smiled and gestured with his hands, “See, there ya go, love. Perfect.” 

She smiled and turned to face Alfie, her back leaning against the counter. She looked at the older man’s face and studied it intensely, as she had countless times before. It wasn’t much of a secret that she had feelings for him. He had been coming into her flower shop for almost two years by then. He started coming every other week to pick up arrangements for his mother. Every other week quickly turned to once weekly, then every other day. Now it was routine for them; every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, at exactly five o’clock, Alfie would come to the shop. He had stopped buying bouquets for his mother after her passing roughly a year before. Now he just visited her for pleasure. They had become quite good friends in that time. Alfie would often bring her some dinner if he knew she had to stay  late to fill an order. Other evenings he would take her out either to a local pub or restaurant to enjoy food and drinks. Her feelings grew by the day but she never acted on them. She figured that if Alfie felt the same way he would have made a move by that point, so for the time being she let it go. She tried not to let it bother her too much, the ache in her heart that left a pang of emptiness. Most of the time they were having far too much fun for her to realize it was even there. But every once in a while, in the quiet moments such as the one they were having in her little flower shop, she felt it. 

There was something about that day, that moment, that she felt the overwhelming urge to fill that empty void. She would never know what it was that made her do it, but she grabbed the lapels of Alfie’s coat and pulled herself to him, pressing her lips to his. At first, there was no reaction from the bearish man, but as she didn’t back off, she felt Alfie’s large hand snake behind her neck. He deepened the kiss, pushing her back against the counter. Her arms went around his neck as he moved his own hands to her waist and effortlessly picked her up to sit her on the surface. Their lips crashed together like two teenagers indulging their pubescent hormones for the first time, tongues intertwining at a fervent pace. 

When they finally released each other, Alfie took half a step back. “Fuckin ‘ell,” he said with a smirk. “Not that I didn’t enjoy that, but what the hell are you thinking, love?” 

She looked into his impassioned eyes sheepishly and gave him a small smile. “Don’t be daft, Alfie. You know how terrible I am at hiding my feelings. Don’t tell me you’re surprised by this.” She brought a hand up to his scraggly beard and gave it a pet. 

Alfie’s gaze intensified and his brow furrowed. He looked back and forth between her green eyes. searching for some sort of answer. “Darling, I-” he started before she put her hands on his chest.

“And don’t tell me you don’t feel the same way because a kiss never lies, and the way you just kissed me revealed a whole lot of truth, Alfie Solomons.”

He snickered and put his hands back on her waist. “You got me there, treacle. Not even gonna try to be coy with you. I’m just a bit taken aback is all.”

The next few hours were spent just the two of them in her modest flower shop vacillating between conversation about their feelings for each other and intimate caressing and necking. When they finally realized how late it was by the darkness outside, Alfie turned toward her with a serious glance. 

“I’m not a good man,” he declared in a serious tone. “I’ve done awful things to a lot of people.”

She closed the gap between them and laid her cheek against his broad chest, waiting for his bulky arms to enclose around her. “But you’ve never done anything awful to me, Alfie, and that’s what I care about. Everything you’ve done you’ve done for a reason. I know that.”

He wrapped her small frame up with his own body and sighed, “You’re too sweet for me, love.” He bent his head down and gingerly kissed the top of her head. 

“Let’s get out of here, yeah?” she said as she linked her arm through his and stepped toward the door. 

With the chilly night air greeting them, they strolled out to the quiet Camden street, arm in arm, both with minds racing of the future to come for their newfound romance, smiles spread wide across their faces. 

They could feel the electricity of love sparking between them, lighting up the night. This was the start of something beautiful.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

For the Love of Dogs - An Alfie & Beth Solomons One Shot Story.

I think writing that long overdue check in with these two made me realise how bloody much I'd missed them, besties. Here, another installment in their story. I do hope I will have more ideas for further stories to follow :)

Words - 7,890

Warnings - Mention of death, but lots of fluff!

She entered the house on complete, brain disengaged autopilot, her outstretched finger finding the keypad to the alarm system, punching the code in and then simply standing in the welcome hall, a home much, much too quiet for her liking. The heaviness of it squeezed her heart, sniffing hard, rubbing her thumb over the soft leather of his collar. A collar now redundant.  

Her beloved Cyril. Their beloved Cyril.  

“Come ‘ere, darlin’.” Beth wouldn’t have been able to get through it, the last goodbye with their faithful family dog, without her husband at her side. Sinking into the comforting bulk of Alfie’s embrace, she wept against his chest, hearing him sniffing back further tears of his own. He hadn’t been afraid to cry as they’d both sat out on the grass behind the veterinary surgery, Cyril wrapped in soft blankets in a dog bed provided by the staff, the birds tweeting as they’d told him how he was loved, how much of a good boy he was.  

The gargantuan mastiff had taken his last breaths feeling warm, calm and safe, his mum and dad right there with him. Thirteen years had come to a peaceful end as loving hands stroked his soft fur, leaving a hole behind in the lives of his family that far eclipsed his own huge size.  

“If it’s anything to you, thirteen is simply unheard of for a Bullmastiff to reach. You both cared for him exceptionally well, truly.” the kind vet had offered sympathetically. She’d also been the one to suggest they put him to sleep outside, a practice that they’d had to develop over the Covid-19 lockdown, and one she now offered as a much nicer alternative to pets being euthanised upon a table, in a room so many of them felt anxiety towards.  

The children were with their auntie Magda, their parents feeling it best they didn’t attend. It was heartbreaking enough for them as two adults; it would have been much too upsetting for the little ones to witness. Abe and Flora had said their goodbyes to him earlier that morning, sitting with him in their pyjamas, Beth calling the school and explaining they would not be attending on account of the event that afternoon, explaining she felt they would be too upset and distracted to concentrate in class. Luckily, the secretary had been understanding.  

Instead, Magda had booked a day off work and taken them out to keep their minds off it, Thorpe Park being her chosen destination for them to visit. “Ain’t no bother at all, sweet. I could do having a day with me kids, unwind a bit. Poor little mites. Don’t you worry at all, and I don’t want no money, either. I’m treating them, whatever they want, they get.” Beth had been eternally grateful to her children’s godmother for her kind assistance.  

Venturing into the house, Alfie pulled her wine bottle from the rack when they reached the kitchen, pouring out two glasses. He seldom drank, but felt like he needed something in that moment. His heart was truly broken, to be without the loving dog he’d had in his life for so long. Watching girlfriends come and go, his business empire going from strength to strength, meeting the woman who would eventually become his wife, adding children to their family, it had all been with Cyril by his side. 

His loss was profound, sitting down at the island, passing a glass to Beth. “To the best bloody dog who ever was, baby beast.” They chinked glasses, smiling sadly as they remembered Cyril fondly. Their first child, as they always called him. Beth still hadn’t released her grip upon his collar, and for the rest of the afternoon she held onto it, thumb still stroking the leather. 

“Would it be wrong of me if I decided to blow off my article and get pissed out of my face?”  

Alfie’s smile tilted his lips, reaching to stroke her face. “Nah, treacle. Did Mags say she was taking the nippers for dinner an’ all while they’re out?” 

“Yeah, she just texted me, actually. They’re currently at TGI Friday’s awaiting a plethora of their favourite foods.” She smiled at the thought, knowing how Magda loved it there just as much as the kids. “I don’t feel much like cooking for you and I, though.” 

“Ain’t no bother to me, darlin’. I was gonna suggest we order from that new Italian place we like. I ain’t much in the mood for eating, but a bit later I could probably see off a piece of that lasagne they do. Tell you what, why don’t you go for a nice, long soak in the bath. I’ve got a few calls I need to make anyway.” 

She took him up on his suggestion, kissing him before sliding from her seat, placing a kiss upon the collar still in her hand, too, before putting it up on one of the shelves behind the breakfast nook. She’d get to putting away all of Cyril’s other belongings at some point, but couldn’t face it right then. His bed they’d had to throw away that morning, the dog having an unfortunate bladder accident upon it. It had sealed to them that they were doing the right thing in putting him to sleep.  

His toys remained, Beth looking at them mournfully where they sat in the basket for that storage purpose, deciding to move them to a place the kids wouldn’t see upon their return. Picking up his plush frog, she couldn’t resist sniffing it, smelling his lovely fur upon it, her eyes filling with tears all over again. They had decided to have him cremated, the vet advising that his ashes should be back within the next ten days. She knew she’d be in floods all over again then, too.  

Trudging up the stairs, she felt weary with grief, knowing that she had to brighten by the time the children got back, for their sakes. She was expecting them to be upset, returning to a house without Cyril in it, although Magda had stated during various text check ins throughout the day that they seemed to be taking it well. Thorpe Park had proven to be a good distraction, it seemed.  

While the bath ran, she tidied up her little office area, smiling as always when her eye was caught by the framed article from The Times, her very first being published within the newspaper. It had been a gift from Alfie upon her moving in with him. She could scarcely believe it had been ten years since her move into St Mark’s House. It sometimes still felt like ten weeks ago.  

The smell of her Jo Malone bath oil caught her nose as she shuffled the last stack of papers, the notes of English pear and freesia crisp in their aroma, Beth stripping off her white shirt and jeans, placing them into the laundry hamper. “Need to get a load of laundry done.” she noted to herself, seeing the basket just over half full. It could wait.  

The hot water provided a nice, comforting surround of relaxation, her eyes flitting over to the wall by the stained-glass windows, once again viewing her paint swatch choices. She tired of white, wanting something a little different for the space. So far, the smoky blue was a definite front runner, but she also did favour the deep, mustard yellow, almost a dark gold in hue. Hmm. She’d live with the dashes of paint a little longer before deciding. The pink which Flora has suggested was a definite no.  

Once done, she got out, dressing in her favourite, comfortable loungewear set, heading back downstairs. The doorbell sounded just as she was about to head to the kitchen, her path swerved back out towards the front door.  

“She fell asleep about half an hour away,” Magda whispered, passing a sleeping Flora into her mother’s arms, kissing her cheek. She turned, giving her to a suddenly present Alfie, her husband stating that he would see to putting them straight to bed since Abe also looked shattered. “Got bellies full of pizza and chicken wings, they have. Had a right ole’ feast, we did. I swear, I reckon I’ve put on a bleedin’ stone and I only had the Jack Daniel’s chicken!” She then paused, reaching for Beth’s face, her thumb skimming the apple. “Bloody horrid, ain’t it? Coming back to a house without ‘em in it.” 

Of course, Magda understood the pain only too well, losing her beloved Claus only five months before to cancer. Luckily for her and Dennis, at least they still had Marley and Karma. She nipped that little slither of envy immediately, though. “It is, mate. It really is.”  

“Well, I know it ain’t much, but I got you a little something.” Reaching into her gorgeous Fendi tote, Magda pulled out a bottle of her favourite Casamigos tequila, handing it over with a smile. 

“Awww babe, love you,” Beth cooed, giving her a kiss.  

“Love you too, sweet. Open it up, get nice an’ sloshed, and thank me later. Right, I better get moving, gotta go feed his highness and walk the pups.” 

“Thanks again for taking them today, Mags. You made a hard situation just that little bit easier,” she spoke fondly, Magda waving her hand. 

“I had a right good time with them, babe. Always do.” Beth waved to her from the door as she drove away, thinking herself so very lucky. A little while later, the doorbell trilled again, Alfie answering it that time. The cause was in his arms as he entered the lounge, handing her a gigantic bouquet of beautiful flowers.  

“Whoever sent these fuckin’ mugged off half the Chelsea flower show, bloody ‘ell!” he exclaimed as his wife took the blooms, pulling the card from the top.  

“Sending all our love to you, Alfie and the babies. We loved darling Cyril so much, too. Lots of love from Mimi and Kinga xxx” 

Her heart was beyond touched at the generosity of her girls, getting together like that for her to gift something so lovely in her grief. They understood, though, how dogs truly were family. Those surprises didn’t stop coming in the wake of Cyril’s passing either, Beth’s breakfast with her dear Oliver a few days later yielding another beautiful surprise.  

“I hope you don’t get upset, darling, but Brett and I wanted to do something nice in his memory, so this is for you.” He passed the brown paper Habitat bag across the table, Beth pulling out a well wrapped, rectangular shaped gift from within. Tearing open the chic wrapping paper, her throat pinched with emotion, seeing a beautiful black and white photograph of Cyril that Oliver’s husband had taken of him the previous summer, lying outside on the patio, looking so regal in the fading evening light. “Brett says he was the most photogenic dog he’s ever met, and I quite believe that to be true.” 

She couldn’t speak for a few moments, sniffing hard, flapping her hand as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, sweetheart. I love you both so much,” she eventually managed, placing the framed picture down and exiting her seat to give him a huge hug. 

“And we love you too, baby. He was a splendid chap, old Cyril. Remember how scared of him I used to be, back when I first visited you at home? And then by the end of that night, he was sitting next to me on the sofa, resting his massive head on my shoulder?” His fond words sparked the memory, Cyril indeed taking to Oliver very much. 

She nodded, taking her seat again. “I do, yes. Gosh, it was so long ago. I remember when he first met Brett too...” 

“And humped the hell out of his leg!” Oliver finished, clapping his hands together with mirth. What he shouted, too! “Oh, my Jesus, he’s going to give me ligament damage! Queen down! Queen down!” Her emotional wobble was forgotten as she burst into hysterics, remembering Brett literally knocked to the floor while she’d wheezed, Oliver in tears, Alfie having to detach a rampant Cyril from the object of his affections. To Brett he had been known primarily as big gay dog ever since.  

They shared a few memories of him before their conversation moved on, both discussing work, Beth enthralled by his tales from New York Fashion Week, from where he had not long returned. He’d also brought with him another gift he alerted her to in the bag, some of her favourite American sweeties, two big bags of Milk Duds present when she looked again. How well he knew her.  

After breakfast, she had work commitments to attend, calling in at London Life and Style to discuss an article she’d submitted, her little sheen dented by the fact that the viper, also known as Madeline Arlington-Smith, had dissected it thoroughly.  

“I feel that if we leave this part out, this part too, it shall be more in accordance with the overall opinion and not merely a fanciful display of the world according to Beth Solomons.”  

She remembered back to being much more novice in her journalistic endeavours, seated in that very chair ten years before, taking the heat for an article Madeline had thoroughly given the bloodletting treatment to. It has preceded her first meet with her now husband, seeking refuge and Cabernet Sauvignon in a bar that belonged to him. “Then why on earth ask me to write the article, Madeline, if not from my own perspective?”  

“Because you are commenting on the zeitgeist from the perspective of your peers, not simply you, you, you. How does the subject make women of your age feel, what emotions does it drive, how does it affect you all on a whole? I would like a little more of that. We go to print in two weeks. Please have your corrections submitted within the next seven days.” 

The viper was not aware of it, but she narrowly avoided an outburst, Beth physically biting her tongue as she rose from her seat. “I will make sure of that.” Striding from the office, she felt her chest thickening, nodding and smiling at a few of the staffers as she passed them by on the way to the elevator. She knew it was because she was still raw over Cyril, she knew that, not being able to take her critique on the chin with her usual good nature. When she arrived home, though, she succumbed slightly. 

“That bloody bitch effing bloody woman!” 

Alfie raised his eyebrows, looking at her as he clicked a pen against his teeth. “Madeline’s well then, yeah?”  

“She’s right on bloody form, she is! Oy!”  

He chuckled at his wife’s continued exasperation, making a motion for her to take a seat on his lap. Welcoming her into his arms, he kissed her head, rubbing her back where she was tense. “How about I take you out for lunch, ay? Somewhere fancy, then we’ll go pick up the babies from school? I know you’re still heartbroken over Cyril, and as such you ain’t takin’ whatever the fuck the cobra woman told you...” 

“Viper,” she interjected with. 

He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever the fuck they call her, she’s still a bloody snake, innit? So yeah, you ain’t taking it as good as you normally do, right, so let me take you out and get your mind off it.” 

Her face crept into a grin. “Can we go to Jean-Georges?"  

He could have guessed that’s where she’d request. “You bloody want caviar, don’t ya?” Her rapid nodding confirmed. It was only in the last few years that she’d really relaxed her moderately Kosher diet to such a degree, telling Alfie it was his influence, turning her into an equally bad Jew as he labelled himself. “Good job I’m worth a mint, innit? Fuckin’ wives and their disposition for pricey fish eggs, I dunno. Let me call Stace and see if she’s got a table.” 

Stace, or rather Stacy, was the Maitre'd at Jean-Georges at the Connaught, the hostess always taking good care of them when they visited, as she did with all of her exuberantly wealthy clients. “Stace! How are ya, flower? Yeah, ain’t bad, sweet, ain’t bad. Yeah, you gotta table for about an hour from now? You do? Lovely, treacle, yeah put me down, just me and the missus. Alright, love. See you in a bit.” He then turned to his beaming wife. “You’ve got twenty minutes to go and faff. Hurry up.” 

She placed a big smacker on his lips, rushing upstairs to quickly check her face, refresh her deodorant and perfume, and change into something more suitable for a restaurant with three Michelin stars. One pair of leather leggings were pulled on, along with her beautiful, grey cashmere sweater, her red Birkin bag selected, and contents transferred from her other bag, her feet jammed into her black Louboutins, and she was good to go.  

“Oh blimey, my hair!” Circling back, she quickly picked up her brush and gave it a once over, hearing her husband boom from the stairs.  

“Five minutes, Bethany!” He entered the bedroom, pulling off his sweatshirt, giving her an approving once over. “Love them lovely legs wrapped in leather.” A smack placed to her bum echoed through the bedroom, Alfie chuckling with mirth as he shed the rest of his clothes, heading to the ensuite and getting into the shower.  

“You said five minutes!” she yelled, giving his nudity an appreciative once over while leaning against the bathroom doorframe. 

“I’ll be out in twenty seconds, darlin’.” She had to envy him sometimes, how he could go from casual to restaurant ready in a matter of minutes. Styling his hair took him all of a minute, whereas for her, she’d battled through her thick mane with the straighteners for half an hour that morning. He dressed in a grey suit with a black shirt, not bothering with a tie, handsome, yet sophisticated and casual. A spray of aftershave had him ready with forty-nine seconds to spare. Yes, Beth had counted. 

One drive across London later, and they were being seated at one of their favourite restaurant by Stacy herself, who was as attentive and polite as ever. He ordered his usual sparkling water, Beth a large vodka over ice, since it went best with what she was soon to be enjoying. The way he worded it too, when her caviar arrived, she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Enjoying that, darlin’, having a load of sturgeon reproductive goo in your gob?”  

She almost sprayed half of them back out again. “Stop it! And yes, I am.”  

He chuckled, winking. “Anything I can do to put a smile back on your face, petal.” He paused, sipping his drink and taking another bite of his souffle. “Kids are taking it better than I expected ‘em to, ain’t they?” 

“They really are, yes,” she confirmed, smoothing more of the beluga onto a toast point. “Better than me, I think. I burst into tears as soon as I opened Oliver’s gift earlier.” She’d shown it to him before they’d left, Alfie placing it upon the hallway table, next to one of their wedding pictures. He’d loved it, assuring her he’d call Oliver and Brett personally to offer his thanks later that evening when they’d both be at home.  

“Kids are so much more resilient than we give ‘em credit for, I think. Flora had a little wobble this morning on the way to school, but she was fine by the time we got to the gates. Told her about rainbow bridge, she seemed to like that.”  

The rainbow bridge story. Her heart fluttered at his tenderness with their youngest. Leaning over, she gave him a kiss, Alfie accepting it, albeit with a slightly affronted look.  

“Ugh, get away with your fish eggs! Bleedin’ stink horrid, they do!” No, he was definitely not a fan of the delicacy. Still, it didn’t stop him from buying them for his wife whenever she wanted them, though. They followed their starters with a steak for him, Beth choosing the grilled lamb, much too full for dessert. He did, however, stop by at her favourite chocolatier on the way back to Chelsea, spoiling her a little more, purchasing a few treats for the kids, too.  

Once home, Beth sat with the children in the lounge, going over their homework tasks with them while Alfie returned to his office. While there, he found himself periodically checking his watch, the habit pure muscle memory. At 5pm every night, he’d leave his desk to walk Cyril. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face, absently stroking his beard as he leaned back and thought of his furry best friend.  

God, he missed him.  

They’d known for a while that his declining health meant only one thing, both making the decision not to keep pumping him full of painkillers for his arthritic hips, and eventual failing organs. It wouldn’t have been fair, they’d decreed, to keep him going just for the sake of their hearts. He’d outlived his life expectancy by three years, it was his time.  

Rather than continuing viewing his acquisition profits for the last month, he found himself looking through various dog rescue sites, smiling at the sweet, hopeful faces of the residents. He decided right there and then that when the family were ready, they’d rescue as opposed to buying a puppy. Maybe they could take in more than one? He’d only been looking for a few moments when he felt uncomfortable, knowing it truly was too soon to even consider any dog other than Cyril being in the house, no matter how cute they all were.  

Weeks passed, the family getting used to the lack of his presence within the house, life carrying on. For Alfie, with the kids being on their half term break from school, he threw himself into being a present dad, knowing his empire wasn’t going anywhere and would certainly not crumble for him taking time away from it, enjoying days out with them in abundance.  

It was while he was out with his offspring one morning that Beth decided to take up an offer extended to her and try something new. Mimi had been raving about her love for Thai boxing for a good few months, attending both mid-morning and evening classes at her local gym, finally talking Beth into attending one with her.  

“You know Abe thinks you’re a ninja now, don’t you?” she spoke as they ran through warmup stretches, Mimi chuckling softly.  

“Well, if you enjoy it and keep it up, he’ll be able to say you are, too!” 

“Oh no,” she scoffed, reaching to her toes. “I’m still smelly fart head. And Nagatha Christie, thanks to him overhearing Alfie calling me that.”  

Mimi all but exploded laughing. “Oh my god, he doesn’t change!” She remembered back to when she’d been dating him, him calling her exactly the same whenever she incisively bent his ear over something. “So, where did you say they’ve gone today?” 

Taking to the floor, they sat opposite each other, legs wide and feet pressed together, taking turns to pull back on one another’s hands to experience the deep stretch. “Chessington World of Adventure. They’ve never been before, you should have seen them this morning. God, Mims. The squealing!” 

“Awww,” she cooed, leaning back as she softly gripped Beth’s hands. “I can’t wait for Lis to be big enough to appreciate all of this and go there, too. I was actually talking about it to Josh a while back, but I can never remember it’s called Chessington, so I was calling it Chesterton Theme Park and he was like, “erm, what, babes? Where’s that?” until I realised that I was flubbing the name. Typical me.” 

It truly was. Mimi would not be Mimi if she wasn’t getting her words confused. Beth still wasn’t over her recent blunder of calling chicken pasta Alfredo, “the Alfred pasta.” Her and Kinga had fallen apart completely while a totally nonplussed Mims had continued browsing the menu. She was a pure joy if nothing else.  

As Beth very rapidly discovered once the gloves had been put on and focus mitts brought out, Mimi was also one hell of a mean shot with her fists. Then the kicks happened. 

“Jesus bloody Christ!”  

“Oh, don’t be daft, mate. I’m not that strong!” Mimi exclaimed, a well-placed kick sending Beth a couple of feet backwards.  

She gathered herself, holding the kick pad firmly once more. “I beg to differ!” 

By the time they were done and meeting up with Magda for a little shopping and lunch, the latter having enjoyed a blissful morning of nothing due to her booking some time off work, Beth could barely move.  

“Alright, tin man.” 

Magda’s words earned her a scowl, Beth kissing her cheek. “It isn’t funny, she beat me up!” Turning, they both witnessed a triumphant Mimi flexing her muscles, cracking up at herself and moving to greet Magda.  

“Tiny, little blonde Bruce Lee, is it?” 

“Not quite,” Mimi muffled from the crush of Magda's usual, warm, bone crunching hug. “But you should come!” 

She should have expected the face she got in reply to that. “My love, the only exercise I get is running me gob. You know that. Right! Let’s go be fancy bitches then, shall we, ladies?” The women were heading to Mecca, otherwise known as Covent Garden, their favourite place to shop. Magda’s contact at Chanel and subsequent discount didn’t hurt either. Not everyone was a wealthy as Beth.  

She still found it bizarre, though, even ten years into being the girlfriend and then wife of a billionaire, to be able to spend an unlimited budget on herself. She and Alfie did offset it by giving an awful lot of it away to charity, though. Or, as Beth often did, heading to the bank, withdrawing a few hundred pounds and giving out little wedges to any homeless people she happened to see along her way. It made her feel better about the huge divide in the country between the very wealthy and very poor.  

Still, the Chanel employees relished in seeing her name down in the appointment book, knowing they were about to receive a very nice commission.  

“Mrs. Solomons, welcome,” she was greeted by Leighton with, the chief sales attendant. “Oh, this cardigan is a dream! Is it an Oscar?” he asked courteously, smoothing the black cashmere of her sleeve.  

She leaned in close to whisper. “No, it’s actually M&S!” 

His mouth dropped open. “Oooh, I love a good bargain! Can I offer you ladies a drink? Coffee, juice, champagne?” Of course, they all chose the latter. Once furnished with drinks, Leighton allowed them to browse unassisted, Magda deep in conversation with her friend Hannah, who managed the store while Mimi picked up a bottle of her usual perfume, and Beth browsed the bags.  

She ended up choosing two of the boy bags, quilted effect design with a chain strap, one in grey and another in pink. The pink one was hidden, though, since the recipient wasn’t her. She ferried her choices to Leighton, asking him to gift wrap the pink one, moving to the shoes and selecting a pair of turquoise sandals she liked, too. Those, a skirt and pair of trousers later, and she was done. 

Once Magda was done chatting, choosing a scarf and a new pair of sunglasses for herself, and another item also not destined for her, they paid for their purchases and left, hopping into a taxi and heading over to Shoreditch. They had a table booked at Camino, Mimi’s favourite tapas restaurant, a meal she had no idea she was being treated to by her friends in lieu of being able to celebrate her birthday with her on the actual day, Josh taking her for a long weekend in Italy the following week. Hence the purchases at Chanel not destined for their own wardrobes. 

“Right then, little miss almost thirty-two,” Magda began, bobbing her tongue between her teeth as Mimi cringed. 

“Oh, don’t remind me! I was twenty-one five minutes ago, I feel old!” 

Beth snorted, lifting her eyes from the menu. “Oh, stop it. I just turned forty!” 

“And I’m hitting the big five zero in six months, so you’re still the bloody baby of the group, ain’t ya?” Magda chimed, giving her a soft poke on the wrist. “Anyway, as I was saying, since you’ll be enjoying pasta and cannoli's over in the motherland on your actual birthday, you get your gifts from us now. Happy birthday, babe.”  

Mimi’s mouth fell open when from beneath the table, two double C branded boxes were pulled out and passed to her, a long, high pitched squeak emanating. “Oh my fucking god! You didn’t!” 

“We did, now shut your gob and get ‘em opened!”  

She did, choosing Magda’s first, her mouth flying open again when she pulled out the long, gold and blue Chanel nameplate style necklace within.  

“Oh, darlin’,” the lady herself cooed, Mimi in tears as she immediately put it on and then rushed to hug her. “You like it, then?” 

“I bloody love it, Mags! Thank you so much, I love you!” 

She was so touched, Mimi always so sweet when presented with gifts. “Love you too, sunshine, and you’re welcome.” Taking her seat again, she then moved onto Beth’s present, almost passing out when she saw the bag she had so coveted within, her hands flying to cover her open mouth with a gasp.  

“Beth!” Those hands then began to flap, more tears coming. “Oh my god, oh my god!” Once again, she was out of her seat, wrapping Beth in a huge hug. “I love it, and you! Thank you!” 

“You’re welcome, darling,” she told her warmly, kissing her cheek a few times. “We know you’ve had a rough year, so we wanted to spoil you a little.” 

Indeed, it had been a bad year for Mimi, finding out in January that she was pregnant again, but sadly losing the baby just a week before her first scan. She’d been so sad for months about it, her friends trying hard to pull her out of her funk and be there for her during her period of grief.  

Beth knew the pain well, she and Alfie suffering the same between her having Abe and conceiving Flora, so had been a pillar of support for her during that time. It was also one of the reasons why she’d taken up Thai boxing, needing something to take out her anger at the injustice of losing her baby on, choosing the sport to help in catharsis. The fact that she happened to be very good at it and already training for her orange belt was a mere bonus.  

After enjoying their lunch, they were about to get a cab back over to Chelsea, since the women were heading back to Beth’s for a girl’s night that evening, when one of them saw something in the near distance she couldn’t ignore. Thai boxing had also made Mimi very brave where conflict was concerned. 

“Oi! Oi!” She shouted, pointing. Her heels were off, Mimi sprinting barefoot up the street, Beth and Magda turning to search for what on earth had caused their friend’s sudden reaction.  

“Oh, shitting hell,” Magda quietly hissed, beginning to run after her as they witnessed the object of Mimi’s anger, Beth hot on her heels. “I know she’s got all this newly found Thai boxing mettle, our Mims, but she can’t take on some scummy roadman by herself, fuck!” 

A roadman was Magda’s preferred slang term for an undesirable man, usually donned in sports clothing, who stank of weed and thought himself to be some kind of hard arsed gangster. A large dog upon a lead that was much too large for purpose was usually involved, too, which in this instance was what had drawn Mimi’s attention. Or rather, the way said roadman treated the animal in question. 

“Stop it! You can’t treat a dog like that, what the fucking hell is wrong with you?” she exclaimed, the young man of about twenty yanking the poor, skinny but still sizable, dark grey dog by the heavy choke chain around his neck. “He’s just a baby, you bastard!” 

“Yo, what’s it to you, though, yeah?” he spoke, sucking his teeth. “Ain’t got nuttin’ here, girl. No business with me, ya get me, blud?” 

“You’ve got a bloody chain about the size they use to secure fucking motorbikes around his neck and you’re yanking him up the street! I’m not standing by and watching that shit, mate! Fucking stop pulling him!” 

The man even had the gall to smirk. “Ain’t nuttin’ to you. Yo, don’t touch me, fam!” He tried to shake her grip on his arm loose, Mimi fighting to secure the lead from his grasp, people all around stopping to stare. “Fuck, I’ll fuckin’ stab you up, bird. Ya get me?” 

Magda and Beth arrived with them, the former immediately imposing herself. “Threaten her with a knife again, boy. Go on, sunshine. Fucking dare ya.” 

“And who are you, old lady? What ya gonna do, yeah?” 

Magda laughed, still imposing into his space. “Who am I? Someone who grew up on the fuckin’ roughest estate in Brixton is who I am, you little roadman twat. I’ll take the chain you’ve got round that poor animal's neck and fuckin’ knock every single one of your fuckin’ teeth out your mouth with it if you threaten me or my friend again. Ya get me, blud?”  

Her mimicking of his vernacular drew a few laughs from those watching, Magda unblinking, Beth feeling her pulse escalate with nerves. Just then, her focus was drawn by the sudden feeling of softness pushing against her hand. Looking down, she saw the dog moving closer to her legs, Mimi successfully yanking the lead free from the grip of the man still facing off with Magda.  

She crouched to him, stroking his crinkles. He was shaking. “Hello, lovely boy. Are you alright? Goodness, this chain is cutting into your neck, you poor soul,” she cooed, checking him over. He was in a state, that was for sure. She recognised his breed, but he looked the furthest from how the huge, proud looking Neapolitan Mastiff should have appeared. He was young too, she noted, nowhere near the full-grown size but still, so undernourished. Looking into his big, soulful eyes as he softly thumped his tail and licked her hands, covering her in a generous slick of slobber, her ears caught the tail end of Magda’s tirade.  

“Now, I’ll give you a choice, mate. Walk away and leave the dog with us, or I’ll fuckin’ get the law on ya for animal abuse and threatening my friend with a knife. What’s it to be? Because you ain’t lookin’ after that dog at fucking all, are ya? Look at him, barely out of his puppy months and he’s skin and bone! What’s it to be?”  

She stood firm, the man shrugging before cussing under his breath, his teeth sucked again before he simply walked away. He didn’t even fight for his dog, so little was the care for the creature beyond having a status symbol at the end of a lead. A few people applauded, a man coming forth and offering his hand to Magda, telling her how well she’d handled it.  

She then turned to Beth, taking the lead from Mimi and handing it to her with a curt nod. “Don’t say I never give you nothing.”  

Immediately, tears spilled from her eyes, hugging the dog as she cried into his soft, yet dirty fur. He stank of cigarettes and weed. “Oi, come on, babe. Hold it together, eh?” Magda continued, crouching to put her arm around her, Mimi dipping too to offer support. “Right, nearest pet shop. He needs a bit of proper dog clobber and not this nasty chain. Look at it! You could tow a fuckin’ Jeep out of a bog with it! Poor puppy, Christ! He can’t even be one yet.” 

A quick hail of a black cab got them the transport they needed to reach the nearest pet shop, the large puppy more than happy to head along with the three kind ladies who made such a fuss of him. 

“He’s a lovely chap, ain’t he?” the cabbie chirped, looking in the rear view. “Please make sure he don’t slobber on me seats though, girls! How long you ‘ad him for?” 

“About five minutes,” Beth quipped, the cabbie looking confused. “My besties here commandeered him from a roadman lad who was mistreating him, so yes, I went out handbag shopping and ended up with a couple of them, and a dog, too.” 

“Bet you couldn’t pick one of them up in Chanel either, right?” His words had them laughing, obviously noticing the branded bags they all carried from their little splurge in that very store. Once at the pet superstore, they paid him with thanks, Beth taking some tissues from her blazer pocket and wiping up where the dog had dribbled on the floor.  

“I can’t take you in on this,” she spoke, removing the chain. “Are you going to be good and stay with me, or do I have to put my back out and carry you?” He must have weighed a good twenty plus kilograms already, Magda noting on the way over that he was probably under a year in age. “Come on.” She made a kissy noise with her lips, the dog tilting his head before lolloping along with them, pinning himself at Beth’s side.  

Just twenty-five minutes into his new life, and he seemed to feel safe enough to revert to how he should have acted. Carefree, silly and happy, as all puppies should. He drew a few questions from the staff, Magda explaining the story while Beth sorted him with a new collar and lead, another member of staff coming over and advising on a harness, too.  

“You’ll of course need to come back and fit him with a larger one once he’s fully grown,” he spoke, making adjustments, noting the state he was in. “Flipping well done to you all, too, taking him away from that vile person. I can’t bear to see animals mistreated.”  

It was one of those pet superstores that also contained a veterinarian clinic as well as a groomer, Beth pleased to learn that they actually had a few appointments spare for each a little later, waiting around for forty minutes after making the purchases of food, a new bed, toys and everything else he needed before going in to see the vet.  

“From his teeth, I would estimate he’s around eight months old, no microchip either, so we can pop one of those in for you, too. I’m going to say I very much doubt he’s had his vaccinations either, so I can start a file for you with a card. I will recommend a course of wormer and flea treatments as well which we sell down in the store. Can I take your details please, Mrs. Solomons?”  

She duly gave those details, the vet speedily typing them into the file. “And the dog’s name?” 

Oh. She had no idea. Thinking for a few moments, she felt a little on the spot, feeling like it should have been a decision she consulted Alfie and her kids over. It then came to her in a flash, the perfect name for her brand-new companion. 

“Wilson.” she smiled. After all, they had been on Wilson Street when they’d found him. Once his microchip had been sorted, the little wounds caused by the chain upon his neck bathed and flushed, the vet made a few more recommendations, Beth taking Wilson’s new vaccination card and thanking him.  

They then went to the groomers section of the store, Beth remaining with him while he was attended to, for the sake of it all being so new and not wanting him to feel like he was being abandoned. The colour of the water that ran off him made her insides pinch. She guessed he’d likely never been washed. She was only surprised he didn’t have fleas or skin conditions, the state he’d been in. 

Once bathed, Beth held him while he was dried, Wilson swiping at the nozzle for the dog dryer with his paws, comically trying to bite it as well, his large, floppy ears he hadn’t quite grown into flapping around all over the place. He tilted his head back, his big, blue eyes staring at Beth with all the love and trust in the world, his tail thumping. He knew he was safe, and it melted her heart to see him accept his new life so willingly. She could only imagine just what the hell he had come from.  

With some flea treatment and wormer purchased, another cab was called for, Mimi calling for an Uber pet service, the girls and Wilson all piling in.  

“Oh god, I hope Alfie doesn’t go mental at me for bringing him home. Thank the stars you two are staying for dinner, he’ll make less of a scene with his best mate and the woman he’s terrified of there,” she exclaimed, both snorting with laughter.  

Magda pointed at Wilson, reaching to rub his ears. “How the flip can anybody go mental at this face? Look at him! Bloody lovely thing, he is!” He was, that much was true, but just nine weeks after Cyril’s passing, Beth worried that it was much too soon to consider another canine companion. Then again, what were she and her girls meant to have done? Let the poor creature remain with the scumbag who previously owned him? Taken him to Battersea? He had a new start right there waiting for him. It seemed silly to bypass such a fated meeting.  

Once back at home, Magda grabbed as many bags as she could, Beth leading Wilson to the front door while juggling his new bed under her other arm, Mimi bringing the rest. Placing everything in the kitchen, Beth unfastened Wilson from his harness, the three standing back while watching him begin to explore his new surroundings.  

“Might be a good idea to steer him in the direction of the back door, just in case he isn’t house broken,” Mimi suggested, Beth widening her eyes. 

“A very good point, my friend! Oy, could you imagine if he pissed up the sofa before Alfie even gets home to either love him or shout at me?” 

Magda snorted. “Babe, he ain’t gonna shout, you’re fine! Look at him, bloody little smasher, he is! Besides, didn’t you tell me you guys wanted to rescue? Well, he was rescued, so there you go.”  

Following the dog, they all herded him in the direction of Alfie’s office, Beth jogging to open the door that led to the garden. Once outside, his nose didn’t leave the floor, tail wagging, letting out a few excited baby barks as he sprinted across the patio, chasing a butterfly. Three hearts all melted immediately, Beth’s then catapulting into her chest when she heard the front door opening.  

“Stay out here with him, let me go and face the music.” Turning she strode through the office, welcoming her family, Alfie’s eye as eagle as ever. 

“What’s with this, this shifty look on your mug, ay?” he spoke slowly, pointing at her face and giving her another kiss.  

“Um... something happened today. Kids, go and take your coats off and wait in the kitchen. Abe, sort you and your sister a juice each, there’s a good boy.” 

His eyebrow rose. “And?” he spoke, the kids obediently trotting off down to the kitchen.  

“And...” she began, hearing a little commotion, and a soft yapping bark before turning to see Wilson slip out of Magda’s grasp and come hurtling towards them. “And we have a puppy.” 

“What the fu...” he began, his eyes widening as his mouth dropped open. “Hello, you! Fuck, look at you, bloody hell! Little tank, innit? Bit thin though, ain’t ya, ay? Hello mate!” Reaching down, he easily lifted him into his arms, Wilson showering him in puppy kisses. “Oi, no biting the beard, yeah?” More washing continued. “Where’d ya get him from? I thought you birds was off up Covent Garden? Last time I checked, they didn’t sell no mastiff’s up there!” 

“You’re not cross with me?” she asked, her hand rubbing Wilson’s wriggly legs.  

“Nah, darlin’! Bit surprised, like, but I ain’t mad. Look at him, he’s a right little champ, ain’t ya?” 

“Told you,” Magda called, ducking her head back in from where she was smoking a cigarette, swiftly going on to explain what had happened, Alfie and Beth joining them outside.  

“Bleedin’ might’ve known you two would have something to do with it!” he exclaimed, pinching Mimi’s nose between his fingers. “Thinking you’re some kind of street fighter, takin’ on roadmen, you fiery mare!”  

Mimi beamed, giving him a few playful punches. “Worth it though, wasn’t it? Puppy boy here got himself some lovely new parents and a lovely new home!” 

“Yeah,” Alfie began, setting him down on the ground again, Wilson lolloping off, “a home he better not bleedin’ take to chewing. Ain’t having none of that game, I ain’t. You got him toys and all that, baby beast? Or we gotta go out again?” 

“Nope, all sorted. Hold on, let me go and get the kids.” Rushing back to the kitchen, she retrieved her children, telling them there was a surprise waiting for them outside. When they saw him, oh, their little faces. Excited squeals filled the space, happy tears were shed, and a very big, very wriggly puppy introduced himself with lots of kisses.  

Suddenly, the house wasn’t so quiet for the new member of the family settling in, the girls night turning into a family night as they all watched Wilson happily acclimatise to his new surroundings. He played with the kids for a full two hours before flopping into his bed, asleep within moments. Since it was the weekend as well as half term, the kids were allowed to stay up late, their dad treating them to pizza while Beth ordered in a Chinese takeaway for her and her friends, eating it upstairs in the cinema room while they watched Pretty Woman.  

While taking a pause between that and the next film, she came downstairs to grab another bottle of prosecco from the fridge, pausing at the entrance to the lounge. There, all snuggled up on a nest of blankets and floor cushions, her husband sat with the children stroking Wilson, who was stretched out on his legs. Noticing his wife there, he smiled, winking. “Love you.” 

“Love you, too. All four of you.” 

And by god, how she did. With the arrival of one dog who needed them just as much as they did him, their family was whole again. Wherever the spirit of Cyril was, she couldn’t help but think he’d approve, too.  

The End.  

[throughgoeshamilton]

Revelations

A The Other Shelby story

Pairing: Alfie Solomons × fem!reader (OC hybrid)

Summary: The Shelby sister is torn between her loyalty to her brother and his Jewish frenemy who also happens to be her lover.

Words: 1.900

Warnings: none

The Other Shelby stories: Resurrection

A/N: Thank you @cillmequick again for beta reading this and your endless support 🫂 Also tagging @buttercupsandboys because you asked me ☺️

"So your brother still doesn't know about us?"

"No, and if you wanna keep your eyesight, it's better if it stays that way."

"Y'know, the little trick you played on me last year with your grenade... I think that makes us all even, doesn't it? I think it really does."

“I think what really makes us all even is that I'm fucking someone who betrayed the Shelby family and so is Tommy.”

She furrowed her brows as she stared at the ceiling, her hand stroking up and down her lover's broad chest that was covered with ink and hair. Her brother's wife wasn't her taste at all but she knew she had no right to talk some sense into him for marrying an Irish spy. Not when she was spending that much time with the very man who sold Tommy and her family for a deal with Sabini two years prior. But Alfie was right, she and Tommy had paid him back well when they had forced him to overthink his outrageous demand to have all of their businesses written over to him. And if the worst had come to the worst, she would've blown his arse off, lover or not.

Although she had to admit, it would have broken her heart. Even though they didn't put a name on their relationship, two years were a long time to get to know each other, to grow close. After everything that had gone down at Epsom, with Tommy reconnecting with Grace over their child and his unreasonable love for her, she had needed to spend some time away from her family, for the first time in her life ever since Mrs Shelby took her in as a little girl. She and Tommy had always been attached at the hip, from dirty streets used as playgrounds as kids to dirty business giving them money and power as adults. Still, she could not forgive his wife for coming into their life with the sole purpose of ruining it. That was the line she had drawn, the difference between Grace and Alfie. Her mission had been spying on the Shelbys from day one, working together with a man as vile as Campbell, while Alfie had been doing his business as usual, making deals, breaking them and trying to get the most out of it all. She could excuse his behaviour because that was what gangsters did and she had spent enough time around them to know what they were like. She was one of them.

Whether she made that excuse for Alfie because he was who he was to her or not, she wasn't sure. She had been attracted to him pretty early on and escaping to Camden, to him, had been a welcome change. At first, it had been mainly his sheets where she had spent her time with him - or rather his desk in his office at the bakery. It had taken them some time to take it to his bedroom, some intimacy and closeness before they would spend the whole night together and sometimes even wake up next to each other.

Whatever this was, it was good for both of them. He valued her input on business related matters, everything that didn't have to do with the Peaky Blinders, of course, and her wit and attitude she liked to give him most times. She liked the freedom she had in London, the control she could take over her own life outside of gang wars - and she enjoyed feeling wanted and appreciated by Alfie in every way.

Tommy didn't know about the more or less romantic arrangement she had with his former business partner then enemy now business partner again and if she wanted to keep up her attitude towards Grace, it had to stay that way.

“Y'know luv, I think as much as you dislike your good sister, you cannot complain, ya really can't. You were at their wedding and gave them your blessing” Alfie let her know his thoughts on her little family drama while he scratched his beard as if he was deep in thought.

She rolled her eyes at him and sat up, wrapping the thin blanket around her body to cover up her breasts as she looked down at him with a frown.

“I declined his request, I think that was enough of a hint that I do not approve of their bond.”

Despite all the bad blood between her and his bride, Tommy had still asked her to be his best woman at his wedding - just another anomaly that Thomas Shelby wouldn't have given a single fuck about if anyone had questioned why he had his sister as his closest confidant at his wedding instead of one of his brothers. It hadn't got that far because she wanted to spend as little time as possible at the wedding and around Grace’s entourage. That had been her official excuse too because “Do you know who used to grab my arse the most in the field hospitals? Those fucking red uniforms”. Of course, Tommy had known that hadn't been the real reason - or at least not the only one - but he still had had the smallest bit of hope to build bridges between the two women closest to him in his life.

“Why are you naked in ma bed and we're talking about ya brother anyway?”

“In all honesty, you started it. You're so obsessed with him” she chuckled before lying back down into his arms, making Alfie now roll his eyes at her.

“C’mere you little minx and let me show you ma real obsession.”

-

"Does my sister happen to be with you?"

"Tommy, shalom, my old friend. How can I help you?"

"I asked you a question, Alfie."

"Yeah yeah... what was that about again?"

He could hear the man on the other end take a deep breath.

"I asked you whether my SISTER is in your FUCKING BAKERY."

Alfie allowed himself a few seconds, leaving Tommy hanging by a thread judging by the heavy breathing that came from the speaker that he held against his ear.

"Hm... no Tommy, no she isn't. Why would she be 'ere eh? That woman tried to blow my arse off last time you put foot in ma bakery."

Tommy didn't believe him. He knew his sister was hiding something from him in London. That was why she was there all the time. But if his suspicions were true, and she was indeed spending time with the Jewish gangster, his old sparring partner better be sure to help him find her.

"If you happen to see her in London, tell her that I need her to come home immediately" he let him know in a strained voice before he hung up the telephone.

-

It was the two days later when Alfie made the decision to tell her about her brother's call. He had been hesitant at first. Why did her brother know about them? Had she told him? If she had, it wouldn't have bother him but he appreciated honesty, especially from the woman he shared a bed with.

"Treacle" he finally spoke up while clearing his throat, "there was someone on the telephone for you two days ago."

She looked up from the morning paper, slowly chewing on her toast some more as she raised an eyebrow at him.

"And?" she asked impatiently when Alfie didn't continue to speak.

He let out a heavy sight before speaking on.

"'t was your brother. He said you should come home immediately."

The paper made a slight crackling sound as she put it down with force, standing up with her hands pressed onto the table. If looks could kill, Alfie would've dropped dead on the spot. But he kept his calm. He knew she would be angry at him but he had his reasons to hold back this information. The more he had thought about it, the more possible it had seemed that this was Tommy bluffing. Maybe he didn't know about them after all, he was just testing the water, hoping an emergency call like that would give him the proof he was looking for - and a reason to punish her for sharing the bed with someone who once tried to fuck him over. His kid sister was the apple of Tommy's eye so Alfie didn't think he could be that cruel to her, but maybe that was the reason it had hurt him even more when he found out - or rather started to suspect - that she was indeed fucking his former enemy.

“And you didn't think about telling me earlier? Like, right away maybe, Alfred?”

Full name base was never a good sign but Alfie had known what to expect when he would finally break the news to her.

“We don't know what he wants. Maybe t’was a test. You know how he is. I tried to protect ya from him finding out.”

She dropped her head and closed her eyes for a second before pushing herself off the table and rushing towards the door.

“Tell your men to get my car ready, I'm packing.”

Alfie sighed but knew better than to talk back when she was this angry at him. She didn't have time for any discussion with him now but he could be sure to hear a few words about this from her once she was back from Birmingham.

-

As she entered the ridiculously huge mansion, John was storming through the hall, not even giving her one glance of attention. His face was red and he looked like he was ready to kill someone.

"John, what-" she tried to reason with her brother, turning around trying to make him stop in his furious tracks.

"NOT NOW!"

Shortly after him came Arthur, not looking any more cheerful. When she faced him with a questioning look, he slightly shook his head before embracing her in a short hug.

"I'll go after John but you need to talk to Tommy. He's in his office."

First Tommy's crude message he gave to Alfie, now this weird behaviour from her brothers. What the hell had happened here?

She took a few more steps into the house, crossing the grande staircase where Grace's oversized portrait greeted her, making her cringe. When she reached the door to Tommy's office, she gave it a quick knock before entering without being invited to.

"You better have a good reason to have such an anxiety-inducing message delivered to me."

Tommy stood in front of his window, not even flinching when he heard the rather annoyed tone of voice. Silence fell upon them. Half a minute passed, then a whole. She took a few steps towards him until she had reached his desk. It was only now, that she saw a pattern. He was dressed in a black suit, so had been John and Arthur when she saw them mere minutes ago. Suits were nothing special to them, but all black was a rare occasion, thankfully.

"Tommy... What happened?"

She crossed the distance between them and put her hand on his shoulder carefully, but still making him flinch. The few seconds they stood there like that felt like an eternity to her as she thought about all the people she hadn't seen yet, and John's anger. Was it Esme? Polly? One of the kids? Tommy clenched his jaw before he finally started to speak to the curtains

"Grace is dead."

[alicent-targaryen]

ALFIE x NUN!READER aesthetic board

for @jomarch-wannabe's 350 followers celebration

[evita-shelby]

Plus One

Inspired by @justrainandcoffee Wandering Jew series.

Aka an excuse to write rolfie and teva in the same universe

Gif by @crackshipandcrap

(2019)

“Who won’t text you back?” Eva asked noticing the rather forlorn way he looks at the message.

She knows he’d been seeing someone, and yet while he knows about her disastrous sex life, Eva doesn’t know jack shit about his beyond Grace the Barmaid, Lizzie and several other women Eva may or may not have also fucked.

“None of your business, Smith.” Tommy glared and she pouted.

It had been a bad idea to ask her out again, the drinks had been fine and she thought him a gentleman when he didn’t take her up on her suggestion of staying over at her place.

“I told you about my ex marrying my cousin and my ex who fucked all my friends, c’mon, Tommy tell me who’s the broad who’s place I need to trash.” The brunette reminds him.

They were friends now.

Eva was enjoying being single after her ex decided Franco was who she loved and Tommy had been in a relationship with someone whom he had hardly ever mentioned.

“Not a she, and no, you’re not committing a felony for me, Evie, but thanks anyway.” He said with annoyance and shoved his phone into his pocket.

“Ah so we’re more similar than I thought. So your guy broke up with you, then?” the witchy young woman guessed correctly going by the stony look he gets as he orders another drink.

“Yes, and before you ask. It was me not him.” The dark haired man loathed speaking about things like these and yet he willingly shared this with her, progress. “Won’t forgive me and I know you’d agree with him.”

“You got me there. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been there before. At least your ex is still alive to hate you.” Eva regrets her words the moment she said them.

She never told anyone about Leopoldo, nor how him learning about her and Antonia seeing each other behind his back led to the car accident that killed him.

She’d been displayed as his grieving girlfriend. Given flowers, comforted along with his family and crushed by the guilt of knowing she hadn’t truly loved him.

“Lucky me.” He grumbled bitterly and raised his whiskey in a toast. “Here’s to our shit luck, Evie.”

It is spring 2020 when Tommy and Eva elope to Cancun and welcome the pandemic as the newly elected representative of the Birmingham Hall Green.

Their exes remain unnamed and neither Shelby aware of how little the world is.

Its 2023 when two identical invitations arrived addressed to the both of them.

“I didn’t know you knew Alfie as well.” Eva mentions as he played with little Gabriel on the rug.

The look on his face says it all.

Alfie was the guy who dumped him for being a cheating asshole.

Same Alfie who was Aunt Florence’s baby brother.

There had been no malicious intent.

This is what Rose tells herself when Alfie learns she hadn’t removed Tommy Shelby from the guest list.

She had met him in passing once, when she found more than just a nice holiday at the Wandering Jew.

Then she came to know Tommy had been the heartless bastard who’d broken Alfie’s heart. Having disliked him from the start, knowing how awful he was had made her hate him.

Now she was seeing him in the profile picture of Alfie’s ‘niece’ Eva Smith-Riley who had sent her congratulations through Instagram.

Rose had met through zoom calls and FaceTime and once in person when Eva came to give them her good news.

‘Is it okay if I bring my plus one?’

It was then Rose had seen who the man she was married to was.

Then the bride to be did what everyone has done since the invention of social media has done.

She looked at every single photo of him in Eva’s profile, Facebook page, twitter and some tabloids that sprung up under her name.

They’d met at Birmingham U, they dated for approximately five months, married on the first of March in a lovely beach in Mexico and had a baby named Gabriel.

“Are you jealous of Evie, sweetheart?” Alfie Asks seeing the picture of Eva hanging out with some celebrity at a charity thing.

“No. It’s not that. Why didn’t you tell me Tommy’s her husband?” she shows him the next picture, Tommy Shelby smiling through the pain holding his one-year-old son next to Eva.

After the way he fucked things up with Alfie, Tommy resolved himself to be a better man.

“Because I didn’t know about it until she married the fucker and then I didn’t want to ruin things for her. He’s changed, or so it seems.” the burly man admitted knowing the hell that was going to be unleashed.

“For a man in love he looks like he’s in agony.” Rose points out thinking the worst of Thomas Shelby.

“That’s just his face, love, he can’t help it.”

And he had, not once has he strayed and while that took much work on his account, it had rewarded him with a woman he loves and a family he hadn’t thought he could have.

He should’ve told her about his past with Alfie, but he was afraid, not sure of what, but he was afraid.

Eva wouldn’t have judged him about it, not after she told him about Leopoldo, but Alfie was her friend.

And yet here they lay beside each other as the baby slept curled up between them.

“You should’ve told me, Tom.” She’s not angry, there is a hint of disappointment about her, but nothing has changed as he feared he would. “We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.”

“He’s your friend, sort of relative too. I don’t want you to miss it on account of me.” He could invent an excuse to stay, claim Gabe is too little for a sitter.

“Alfie is your friend too, we’ll hire a sitter for Gabe and you will come with me. I already told Alfie I’d be bringing you anyways.” She points out reaching to caress his face, a contrast to his words.

December rolls around, and Tommy finds himself fixing the black satin bowtie that matches Eva’s black evening gown exactly.

“Are you ready?” she asks softly, knowing how big of a step this is for him.

“Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be, Mrs. Shelby.”

[buttercupsandboys]

Sunshine & Rainbows

Alfie Solomons x Livy (OFC) — Chapter 15

18+ NSFW - minors don’t interact 🙅🏻‍♀️

MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

CHAPTER 15: only love could hurt like this

Summary: The Shelby women torment Alfie and secrets are revealed ...

TW: language typical of Peaky Blinders, a touch of angst

Word count: 3273

A/N: It’s been a while, so here’s a super quick recap! (Or click here to read Chapter 14 again!)

Alfie found out Livy was missing, then beat the crap out of Tommy. A few hours later, Polly and Esme show up at his hotel room ...

This chapter picks up right where we left off. 

“Well, go on then,” Alfie demands. “We haven’t got all fucking night. Where is she?”

Polly chuckles darkly, looking far too amused for his liking. She takes a moment to light a cigarette, raising it to her painted lips before replying. “And what makes you think I’m just going to hand over that information?”

Fucking hell.

The room goes deathly silent, save for the ominous tick of the clock, reminiscent of a bomb just waiting to explode.

… much like Alfie's stormy expression.

He’s exhausted, and his patience has officially run out. A volatile mix at the best of times, but with Livy gone, the look on his face is more than a threat. It’s a promise of violence.

But Polly doesn’t notice or, more likely, doesn’t care. Instead of backing down, like any sensible being, she stands with one hand on her hip and the other in the air, smoke dancing from her fingers, chin raised like the Queen of fucking England.

“‘Cause that’s what you said, ain’t it?” He glares at her through narrowed eyes. “You asked if I wanted to find Livy.”

“Exactly,” she smirks. “I asked if you wanted to find her. I didn’t say I would tell you where she is.”

Alfie considers snatching her cigarette and shoving it down her slender throat. Polly’s asking for trouble, pushing his buttons at the worst possible time, and they all know it. It’s almost like she wants to see him lose his temper, or at least expects it.

But he is nothing, if not unpredictable.

Despite the displeasure written across his features, Alfie remains seated. He doesn’t speak, barely even blinks as he raises his fist and cracks his knuckles, slowly and methodically, one by one.

The women watch on, seemingly unfazed, but the longer Alfie sits and stares, face like a predator stalking his prey, the more their facade begins to crumble. They are bold, not stupid, or so it seems. The minutes pass, and Polly takes a hesitant step backwards, Esme following suit, dropping her boots to the floor as they brace for an explosion.

Alfie surprises them all. He should be fucking furious, but his blood cools when he recognises this for what it is: a negotiation. And despite the high stakes, the familiarity of it all is comforting.

This is one game he knows how to play.

“Right, then.” Alfie grins as he leans back and spreads his arms wide. Everything is still fucked, Livy is still fucking missing, but at least he has something to work with. “Let’s talk, love. Why don’t you tell me what you want, yeah?”

“For you to fuck off,” Esme mutters, confidence restored now that the danger has passed.

Polly shoots her a stern look before returning to Alfie. “What makes you think I want anything, Mr Solomons?” she asks, cool and composed behind a cloud of smoke.

Alfie laughs; in another time, another place, he might genuinely enjoy their banter.

“Don’t play coy, sweetie. It’s three in the fucking morning. Now she”—Alfie waves in Esme’s general direction—“she might be here for Livy. But you?” he huffs. “You’ve got too much Shelby in you.”

Polly’s mouth falls open, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Alfie cuts her off with a raised palm.

“I don’t want to hear it, yeah. Normally I’m happy to go along with these little games you fucking gypsies love so fucking much. But tonight, I’m going to need you to get to the point, ya hear?”

Alfie watches as Polly visibly bristles, her lips pressed in a firm line, her spine impossibly straighter. But the Shelby matriarch quickly recovers.

“Of course, Mr Solomons,” she replies, her voice and smile sickly sweet. “You’re obviously a very intelligent man.”

Polly waits for a reaction, but unfortunately for her, Alfie is a very intelligent man. So he ignores the trite tactic and gives her 30 fucking seconds to explain herself. The clock continues to tick, and he resumes cracking his knuckles; it’s a veritable symphony of unspoken aggression.

“Fine,” Polly huffs, rolling her dark eyes when it becomes clear they're doing this on his terms. “I need your help,” she reluctantly admits. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I have a son….”

Livy wiggles her toes, delighting in the morning dew against her bare skin. The sun is low on the horizon, but it’s already promising to be a beautiful day. The air is crisp, the birds are singing, and she half expects rainbows to fall from the sky. She breathes deeply and, for a few minutes, finds peace.

Almost.

Because then she remembers what brought her here.

With a groan, Livy flops on the grass, not caring about her state of dress—or her hair, for that matter, her scarlet locks tangled, free from adornments save for a few twigs and burrs. She’s feeling quite sorry for herself as she drapes her arm across her eyes, the weight pressing her into the damp earth. If only it would open and swallow her whole.

“Well, Holy Lord God, it’s Livy Lou, queen of the fairies. What would your father say if he saw you like this?”

Livy smiles at the familiar voice, lips curling despite her melancholy.

“That we should bury our sorrows and rise like the sun,” she recites.

“Rise like the sun,” Aberama repeats as he drops into the grass beside her, stretching his long legs and propping himself on an elbow. “A mighty wise man, your William.”

She hums in agreement, grateful for the company, and together they sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. Minutes pass until it blinds—not the light but the unfettered hope that for once feels so fucking foreign—and Livy turns away, tracing the ground, wishing she could take her father’s advice.

But her sorrows refuse to stay buried.

As she inspects the dirt beneath her brightly painted nails, Livy can’t help but wonder if she made the right decision. Which is strange in and of itself; usually, she’s so confident, trusting her gut and following it faithfully, eyes on the horizon, never looking back. It’s her life’s motto and often the only thing keeping her sane.

Except now she’s in love with Alfie—and doesn’t that just change everything?

She wipes her hands on her dress and closes her eyes to avoid Aberama’s curious gaze. Being here with him reminds Livy of those first months after escaping Bernard. It was all new then; the kind faces and open fires that chased away the darkness, smoke and songs accompanying them into the night. As joy and laughter replaced fear and pain, she was, in many ways, reborn.

How fitting that she should find herself here again.

Last night was a turning point, and Livy knows it, although she’s not ready to face the truth. Instead, it would be easier to ignore altogether, to fall into the comfortable rhythm of life on the road and let it consume her as she rides out this chapter.

With enough time and enough whiskey (or perhaps that broody Shelby gin), she might come to see this nightmare as a blessing in disguise. Livy was truthful with Esme; she missed the life, the freedom, even the creaky wheels beneath her bed.

One door closes, another opens—right?

Livy snorts before she can stop herself, drawing another look from Aberama, who she continues to ignore. Her usual optimism has bolted, much like Cyril, who is off in the bushes chasing a rabbit. This is no blessing, of that she’s sure. More like a lesson—the universe punishing her for holding too tightly onto something that was never hers to begin with.

Of course, Livy knew this day would come, but she wasn’t expecting this.

Only love could hurt like this.

His scent still lingers on her skin—warm and slightly spiced, like rum and sweat and home—and despite everything, a part of her wants him back. She misses Alfie dreadfully; those beautiful lips, maddeningly distracting as they trace the valley of her breasts, his whiskers teasing her flesh, leaving his mark behind.

Just like the mark he left on her soul, and he should be hers, even though logic and reason tell her to run and run and run.

And she will because as much as Livy hates to admit it, the truth is she’s terrified.

Not of Bernard McCall or Thomas Shelby, as one would reasonably expect…

No, Livy is afraid of Alfie.

Because if he knew about Bernard and still chose to do business with him, he couldn’t possibly love her back.

And how on earth is she supposed to survive that kind of heartbreak?

Livy shakes her head.

She’s always been impulsive, but she’s never been in love, and sometimes it’s easier to give everything up than to have it all taken from you.

She picks a blade of grass and pretends to be fascinated by the vibrant shade of green when Aberama reaches over and plucks it from her fingers.

“You know…” He pauses, eyeing Livy from beneath his low-slung hat. “I didn’t expect to see you again. At least, not anytime soon.”

Livy blushes at the unspoken question, her thick lashes kissing her cheeks as she averts her eyes. How can she explain when she barely understands herself? Everything is jumbled, and she’s never felt so confused.

“Yes, well, you see …”

She bites her lip and considers how much to share with Aberama. He’s fiercely protective of those he considers family, and Livy’s fortunate to count herself among the few not related by blood. But she doesn’t want to see a bullet with Alfie’s name on it. At least not yet.

“I’m taking precautions,” she finally replies. “Keeping a low profile for a bit.”

“Precautions?” Aberama repeats. He stares for a long minute before wiping his palm on his thigh and extending his hand. “Well, come on then. You know the promise I made to your father.”

Livy nods in relief and accepts his hand as he pulls her to her feet. She’s grateful for the help—and the lack of questions—but it’s still too much. The weight of everything is drowning her, and she needs a distraction, something familiar to ease her troubled mind.

“Aberama, darling, do you still keep that blade inside your boot?”

He flashes a brilliant smile.

“What the fuck does Michael have to do with anything?” sputters Esme, the shock written across her tired face.

Polly ignores her, keeping her chin raised and eyes hard, refusing to wilt beneath Alfie’s probing stare.

“Michael has recently shown an interest in joining the family business,” she continues. “But Thomas has … ambitions that come with unnecessary risk. Risks I cannot allow my son to be exposed to.”

“Right…,” mutters Alfie, stroking his beard as he contemplates her words. It’s just as he suspected: a fucking mess. “And what the fuck does this have to do with me?”

“I need you to terminate the deal with Bernard McCall. Ensure Thomas no longer has access to Liverpool.”

“Why would you want that?”

“Does it matter?” she snaps. “Help me, and I’ll help you find Livy.”

His heart clenches at the sound of her name, and in that moment, he’d sign away his fortune, his bakery, anything to get her back.

But then he has a better idea.

“Tell me more about your business in Liverpool,” Alfie demands.

Her eyes flash darkly. “Our business is not your concern.” Polly exchanges a look with Esme, and her face softens. “But I’ll make you a deal, Mr Solomons. Agree to help me, and I’ll tell you more about Bernard McCall. And trust me, there are things you need to know.”

“Trust you,” Alfie repeats, the words hanging heavy in the air. “Right, well that’s just it, Mrs Gray. Trust is a fragile thing.” He strokes his jaw. “And what about your boy? Is he … fragile?”

Polly leaps forward. “Are you threatening—“

Alfie stands, towering over her with his broad frame. “I don’t make threats,” he warns, advancing slowly until she has to crane her neck to face him. “Now, you’re going to tell me about Liverpool, you’re going to tell me about Bernard, and you’re going to help me find Livy. If she’s safe, nothing will happen to your precious son, and in exchange, I will end things in Liverpool.”

She glares at him, and Alfie can only imagine the gypsy curse she’s placing on his black soul. But he’s already damned, so he returns her cold stare. Livy is all that matters now, and he’d deal with the devil—or worse, a Shelby—to get her back.

“Fine,” Polly finally agrees, spitting on her palm and extending it to him. Alfie responds in kind, and she nods, inhaling deeply from her cigarette.

“Thomas is working with a group of Americans who support the Bolsheviks,” she begins, taking a seat. “He’s importing weapons from them under the protection of Shelby Company Limited. But security is tight in London, which is why he needs Liverpool.”

Alfie briefly closes his eyes. “Fucking hell. Meddling with the Russians, that silly boy.”

She snorts. “Exactly. It’s going to blow up in his face, and I don’t want Micheal around when it does.”

“And what about Livy?” he asks sharply. “Don’t fucking tell me she has anything to do with—“

“No, not the Russians,” she reassures him. But something in her tone has him on edge.

“But what?” he demands.

Polly gives him a sad smile. “Alfie.” It's the first time she’s used his given name, and a chill runs down his spine. “I’m assuming you know that Livy had a … difficult past?”

A growl escapes from his chest, a feral sound, raw and violent. “Yeah, I fucking know. And when I find the fucker responsible….”

Alfie trails off at the look on the women’s faces.

No.

Oh, fuck no.

The table goes flying, splintering into pieces, just like his heart.

“Bernard?”

“Yes.” Polly and Esme reply in unison.

He wants to vomit.

Alfie has a strong stomach—after France, not much offends him—but when he thinks about Livy, he nearly drops to his knees.

And he will soon, to beg her forgiveness.

But for now, violence will have to do.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to fucking kill him.” He stalks forward, reaching for Polly, unable to stop himself. “Does he have her?” he roars, yanking her to her feet. “Does he fucking have her?”

Polly remains oddly calm. “No,” she assures him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Alfie lets go, visibly relieved. “Right, then where the fuck is she?”

Polly and Esme exchange another look, and he glances around for something else to throw.

“Stop with the fucking faces and tell me where to find Livy before I cut off your—”

“She doesn’t want to be found,” interrupts Polly.

“I don’t give a fuck what she wants—“

“Maybe that’s the problem,” snaps Esme, arms folded defiantly across her chest. “You men are all the same. How do we know you’re not working with Bernard?”

“Esme, shut up,” retorts Polly.

“No, you shut it. Neither of you care about her, it’s all about Michael with you, and fuck knows what he wants—“

“Enough,” roars Alfie, his temper at breaking point. “Fucking, enough. I love her, yeah, and that’s all you need to fucking know. So gather your shit, and let’s go get her.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Polly nods, looking relieved as she collects her bag and makes for the door. But Esme stares at him, eyes dark like the window to her soul.

“I don’t give a fuck what they say about you,” she announces, stalking forward until she’s toe to toe with him. The top of her head barely grazes his chin, but Esme speaks with a confidence that betrays her small frame. “If anything happens to her, it’s you that will be afraid of me. Do you understand? I’ll be watching you, Mr Solomons.”

She takes a few steps backwards. “Always watching,” she repeats before turning on her heel, leaving Alfie no choice but to follow.

Bloody Shelby women.

“Fuck off, no. Categorical.” Alfie pokes the side of the wagon with his cane. “That there, right, is a coffin on wheels. If you want to travel like the living dead, knock yourself out. But you see, for my people, it’s a matter of principle, ain’t it?”

Polly sighs. “Do you want to find Livy or not? We can’t go any further by car, and it’s too far to travel by foot. So unless you want to ride a horse, this is your only option.”

“Ride a fucking horse,” Alfie mutters as he steps forward and nearly loses a shoe in the mud. “This is just fucking perfect, innit? Drag me out in the middle of nowhere, in one of your curious gypo wagons, yeah? Then you put a bullet in my fucking skull, and when my poor Jewish soul is liberated from my body—“

“I can’t fucking do this,” mutters Polly, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. She takes a deep breath and gathers her strength. “Mr Solomons, please, I implore you. Get in the fucking wagon. If there’s any hope of finding Livy, we need to move quickly.”

Alfie nods and, for once, does as he’s told.

The mud and wagon had provided temporary distraction, but now his nausea returns with a vengeance. His head is spinning, his mind frantic, desperate to pinpoint the moment where everything went so horribly wrong. How the fuck did this happen? All his men—a network of spies, a fortune in bribes—and not one goddamn whisper about that bastard McCall.

Because they’re all bad men, but there are just some lines you don’t fucking cross.

Alfie grits his teeth and settles into the vardo (which is surprisingly comfortable, although he’ll never admit it) when the truth hits him squarely in the face.

Thomas fucking Shelby.

It’s the only explanation. Somehow he knew the truth about Bernard and Livy, and purposely kept it from him to protect the Liverpool deal.

Because of the fucking Russians.

Alfie groans and runs a hand down his face, recalling the conversation in Tommy’s office. It’s all coming together now, and it’s not fucking good. Livy is gone, and he’d bet his left nut both Bernard and Thomas are searching for her, making this whole fiasco a race against time.

And here he is—creeping across the countryside in a fucking box.

To make things worse, his fate lies in the hands of not one but two Shelby women and for all he knows, he’s riding headfirst into a trap. But what choice does he have? He’s armed and angry, a dangerous mix, fueled by emotions that are entirely new, fucking raw, and he will find Livy because right now nothing else matters.

Of course, what happens after he finds her is another story.

Fucking hell.

Just 24 hours ago, he was working up the courage to share his feelings. Now he’ll be lucky if she doesn’t cut his fucking balls off.

And that’s if Livy agrees to see him.

Alfie shakes his head and sits taller in his seat. He’s negotiated ‘deal or die’ offers with some of Britain’s most dangerous men, and this is Livy. His Livy. When he finds her, he won’t give her a choice. After all, it was God himself who delivered her to his doorstep.

Some things are meant to be, and once he has her in his arms, he won’t let her go again.

A/N: So ... let me know what you think! I really wanted this chapter to be longer, but honestly, I’ve been sitting on this for months. It got to a point where I think I just needed to publish it, so I could get creatively unstuck! 🙈

Or at least, let’s hope! 

Thanks to everyone still reading this story. I appreciate all of you xx

Tag List: @noz4a2 @confessionbrain​ @omgeternal​ @potter-solomons​​ @quarterpastmidnight​ @woofgocows​ @shaddixlife​ @redhead7799 @cillmequick​@goddessfuck @peakyscillian

[interstellargatorskinboots1812]

TAPPED INTO YOUR MIND & SOUL UPDATED MASTERLIST

UPDATED OCTOBER 2022

SUMMARY

Arabella Shelby is tired of the antics of her twin brother Tommy. She hates how she is always left on the back-foot of what is going on. As a fierce and intelligent force to be reckoned with, she knows she is more than capable of dealing with the more unsavoury side of the Shelby Company Limited.

She’s made a decision that if Tommy won’t allow her to come out of the shadows, then she will make light of her own, elsewhere. But will a deal with the devil be the answer to her problems? Tommy has a proposition for Arabella and one that will see her tied to his most untrusting of business associates. Will Arabella take the plunge and start a new life in Camden, beside the most eccentric and sadistic bread makers and leader of the Jewish Gangs in London, Mr Alfie Solomons?

CHAPTER ONE: Satisfaction Seems like a Distant Memory CHAPTER TWO: SHE'S THUNDERSTORMS CHAPTER THREE: Middle of Adventure such a Perfect Place to Start CHAPTER FOUR:  Judith & Holofernes CHAPTER FIVE:  All Things are Subject to Decay and Change CHAPTER SIX:  A Fugitive, But You Don't Know What You're Running Away From CHAPTER SEVEN:  'I've Done Some Things that I Shouldn’t Have Done CHAPTER EIGHT: How Many Secrets Can You Keep?

CHAPTER NINE- You are the Unforecasted Storm

CHAPTER TEN: It’s Much Less Picturesque Without her Catching the Light

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Under the Warning Light

CHAPTER TWELVE: Have You No Idea That You’re in Deep?

As always, please support my fanfic with a reblog, or even better with a comment. Nothing makes you motivated to write like some fic appreciation,

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires Masterlist Pt. 2

This is part TWO of the Choking on Sapphires Masterlist.

There are so many chapters it won't let me link them all in one post!

(Find part 1 here Chapters 1-50)

Pt. 51 She’s Gone Pt. 52 Pale Blue Eyes Pt. 53 The Rat Pt. 54 Whole Wide World Pt. 55 Wild Horses Pt.56 Knee Socks  Pt. 57 Wonderful Tonight Pt. 58 I Wanna Be Yours  Pt. 59 Under My Thumb Pt. 60 It Must Be Love Pt. 61 Maybe I’m Amazed Pt 62 This Feeling Pt. 63 Gimme All Your Love Pt. 64 Love Is Blindness Pt. 65 Stuck In The Middle Pt. 66 Your Sins Pt. 67 More Than Words Pt. 68 What Kind Of Man Pt. 69 The Boy I Love Pt. 70 Killer Shangri-Lah Pt. 71 Shotgun Pt. 72 Stay In My Corner Pt.73 Loverman Pt. 74 Tonight Pt. 75 Just Like Heaven Pt. 76 You’ve Got The Love Pt. 77 It Makes No Difference Pt. 78 Blue Veins Pt 79 Baddest Man Alive Pt 80 505 Pt 81 Mardy Bum Pt 82 Levee Breaks Pt 83 Baby Says Pt 84 Sleazy Bed Track Pt 85 Breakdown Pt 86 Love Interruption Pt 87 It’s too late Pt 88 It ain’t over Pt 89 Bad Company Pt 90 Right Back Pt 91 Golden Hour Pt 92 Love Her Madly Pt 93 Bigger Boys 94 The Less I Know 95 List of Demands 96 Dog Days are Over 97 Golden Dandelions

[justrainandcoffee]

The one with Alfie owning an erotic bakery shop.

Today I thought about it and how I failed as Alfie and Rosie shipper (and creator) by not giving them an erotic bakery shop 🤣. Now they have one.

I didn't name her, you can imagine this as reader if you want.

Just a blurb.

For obvious reasons the actual moodboard is beneath the cut:

"I think you misspelled 'Happiness'" his wife said, unable to hide her smile.

"Nah, it's perfectly written, sweetheart."

"You know that our girl can't see this, right? Because you are going to explain her that."

"Fuckin' 'ell, love. The girl won't see my art. Want to see my last creation?"

"I'm afraid, but go ahead."

She followed his husband to the back of their bakery and saw him opening a cupboard. He put a cake in front of her.

"Is that.. Is this your..? You baked a cake using you cock as reference?"

"Ya recognise it, mmh? Well, yeah. It's my fucking bakery. And I'm proud of what God gave me. I sent one to Tommy."

"You sent one to Tommy?!"

"A dick for a dick."

"Oh my god, Alfie..." Then she looked at him "Can I taste the cock?"

"The cake or the actual one?"

"Your choice."

[amazingmaeve]

alfie solomons back to peaky blinders masterlist

A MESSAGE —

🐚 currently I don't write for any ships but when I do l'll tell you guys which ships. some of these are older and they're kinda bad since it's been a while since I wrote them, so please don't point it out.

🐚 also I do my best to write all the readers/ocs so that anyone can relate but if you want me to write a story with the reader being POC just tell me when you request!

🐚 Feel free to request for alfie!

🌧️ = angst | 🤍 = fluff | 💋 = smut | ♟️ = dark

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Happy Hanukkah-Mas! - A Beth and Alfie Solomons One Shot Story.

They're baaaack! I absolutely adored returning to their world for a little one-off treat, guys, and hope you all love catching up with them again, too. Enjoy :)

Words - 7,478

Warnings - Fluff and smut, lots of it! Minors DNI!

There is much as a mother that I feel my arm in perpetual twist over, my emotions stirred by the large, slate blue eyes of my son, Abe and my daughter, Flora. They truly do know how to get around their father and I with such insufferably effective cuteness. The celebration of Christmas in our Jewish household is just one of those arm twisting, big, cute eye pleading moments that I speak of. 

Although my husband and I are very liberal in our faith, not anywhere as stalwart in our Jewishness as generations gone by (heck, even my beloved bubbe has a tiny Christmas tree and Father Christmas themed decorations!) we do enjoy observing the traditions of Hanukkah, especially passing this onto our children. We light the menorah and recite our blessings before taking to the kitchen and getting into a god-almighty mess while preparing the latkes and jellied doughnuts.  

Let it be known here that Bethany Solomons and deep frying do not exactly go hand in hand.  

Up until their respective ages of five and two, the children seemed perfectly content to revel in our deep frying, dreidel playing, menorah lighting and song singing traditions. That was until these tiny souls began noticing the traditions of their friends slightly differed from ours. Suddenly, there was talk of turkey and tinsel, of baubles and a large, fresh scented tree. Father Christmas was a name that began to be spoken more freely.  

In fact, it was Flora who changed the tides there while scrambling onto her daddy’s lap one evening when she was two, tiny hands fiddling with his beard as she went through her nightly routine of ‘let’s ask daddy as many questions as humanely possible’ where one particularly struck my husband in a direct hit to the heartstrings.  

“Daddy, Father Christmas doesn’t come to our house. Is that because we’re bad children? We’re on the naughty list, aren’t we?” 

To watch him sit there, his eyes glassing as he tried not to allow for his emotions to be so heavily stirred by our youngest was something I could not endure without shoving my nose into a nearby magazine in order to hide my own tears.  

“Nah, my little peach,” he’d eventually offered, after swallowing a lump in his throat he likened to the size of Cyril, our beloved sixty-kilogram bullmastiff. “It’s just that we believe different traditions, innit? You’re only on the naughty list when you’re running around here covered in chocolate and refusing to get in the bath, ain’t ya?” 

He’d then tickled her into submission, or so he’d thought. Flora, just like the man whose lap she was sat upon at the time, is nothing short of persistent in the pursuit of achieving an end goal. After Abe had returned home from his karate class, he too joined in.  

Never let it be said that my offspring cannot work as an effective emotional tag team. Our first Christmas tree was purchased the following afternoon. Cyril duly lifted his leg to it. Alfie was incensed. The children scream laughed. All was well, if not a little soggy.  

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone! 

Taking a pause from typing, Beth reached for her wine, the kitchen quiet and fresh smelling after her efforts in deep cleaning had left everywhere sparkling. It was that time of year again, where the Solomons clan began their dual holiday festivities, the nine days of their Hanukkah coming to a close, ready to pave the way for all things Christmas. 

“No peeing up the tree this year, matey.” she spoke, her hand reaching for the soft crinkles of Cyril’s muzzle, her faithful old companion sniffing her fingers as she offered him fuss. She could barely believe he was twelve, an age almost unheard of for a bullmastiff to reach.  

The giant dog now lived a much more leisurely pace, long walks replaced now by a little trot around the block, the dog returning to lie himself in the middle of the welcome hall and huff about it for a good ten minutes before he’d wander off, usually in search of the children.  

If Cyril’s heart beat for anything other than a good marrow bone from the butchers, it was Abe and Flora. Beth honestly feared for the day they would come to lose him, knowing the devastation that would befall the family to be bereft of their longtime canine companion. He was more than that to them, though.  

Cyril Solomons always was, and always would be their first child. 

“Where’s your dad?” she asked, the dog’s ears pricking as he heaved himself up, ambling out of the kitchen and down to the office, Beth pushing the glass door open.  

“Evening, baby beast.” No, Alfie had never ceased use of the same pet name for her that he’d coined nine years previously, back when they’d first gotten together. “How’s the article going? Nearly done, yeah?” 

She half shrugged with a hum. “About halfway through. I’m bloody knackered, though, so I’ve come to steal you. My tummy is rumbling.” Moving around the desk, she placed her wine down, seating herself in his lap. “What’s with these? These Solomons crinkles you have going on here?” 

Her finger was playfully batted away, her hulking bear of a husband laughing gruffly. “You and your bloody cheek,” he began, kissing her head. “Them lines are the Abe and Flora crinkles these days, them and their fuckin’ demands. Look at this ‘ere, right. She can’t just want the doll you can go to Smyths and buy, can she, your daughter. Nah, gotta want the fuckin’ Rolls bleedin’ Royce of dolls that daddy ‘ere can’t pissing find in stock!” 

He had a penchant for that. When the kids were good, they were their children. When they were causing him mild to moderate strife, they were solely Beth’s.  

Looking at the screen, she shook her head, reaching for the mousse and closing the browser window. “I found it already, it’s on the way from a store in New York. DHL have assured me it’ll arrive by the eighteenth.”  

“Well then why didn’t you fuckin’ tell me, Bethany with the lovely legs? Lovely legs that are gonna catch a right walloping. Sitting here for hours, I’ve been, looking for that fuckin’ doll!” 

“I did!” she exclaimed, slapping his hand as he began laying smacks against her thigh. 

“Fuckin’ lies!” 

Leaning in close, she widened her doe eyes, her nose touching his. “I bloody did! Magda will back me up, she was standing right next to me when I told you.” 

Her playful growl was met by muttering and grumbling. “Moody sod.” 

“Yeah, but you love me, treacle,” he chirped, Beth leaning to kiss his cheek.  

“That I do. Now, come on. I meant it when I said my tummy was rumbling, so you need to emerge.” Picking up her wine, she slid back to her feet, Alfie wheeling his chair closer to the desk once more.  

“I’ve just got one email I need to...” 

“Alfie,” she warned. 

“Five minutes, darlin’. You go order the food. Get us a chicken madras, a keema naan and all the dippy stuff with the poppadom's. Go on, go be a crackin’ wife and order in all the nosh that’ll have me farting like bagpipes for the next day or so.” 

She threw her head back, her laugh loud. “Five minutes, or I deliberately wake Abe and get him to come in and ask you all about where babies come from.” 

“You bloody dare,” he warned, Beth leaning back around the office door. 

“Don’t try me, boo.” Poking her tongue out, she giggled, heading back into the kitchen and taking a seat once more, putting in their order with the Royal Bengal before tapping away a little more of her article. She’d just closed her laptop when Alfie joined her, pulling a bottle of San Pelegrino from the fridge and splashing it into a glass, adding ice while telling her about his working day.  

Since becoming a father, he’d done what nobody expected and actually relinquished a little control over his empire, allowing those he employed to get stuck in with the lion’s share of the day-to-day operations, in order to be present for his children. Losing his own father so young had made him realise just what he’d missed growing up, now he had little ones of his own.  

The kitchen was soon filled with the aromas of India, Beth adding everything to bowls, Alfie hindering her every step of the way, and Cyril hopeful that a few morsels might be dropped upon the floor.  

“It’s nice to be able to have a bowl of samosas out and not have to fight off tiny hands for them,” she mused, picking one up and dunking it into the mint dip.  

“And then only half eating them, storing the fuckin’ things away behind cushions and in shoes an’ all that,” Alfie spoke through a mouthful of poppadom, shaking his head. “Them bloody kids. Wouldn’t have ‘em any other way, though.” 

Neither would she. They were loud and boisterous, but that came with the territory. Seven and four years old meant a perpetual state of noisy. Those noisy states were out of the front door at nine the following morning, both off to their bubbe Solomon’s house for the morning. Beth dropped them with Sarra at just gone half past, leaving her to fight the traffic to head over to Primrose Hill, her breakfast date already there waiting for her.  

“Oh babe!” she cried, opening her arms to Mimi as she rose from the table. “I thought you were bringing the baby? Aww, I was looking forward to a little smush!” 

“No, she barely slept all night, so I’ve left her with Josh and a tonne of expressed milk. Bloody boobs are so sore, and I thought having implants was bad!” Kissing her cheek, Mimi then gestured to the table, a latte waiting for her. “Thought I’d order that in for you. I might be a knackered new mummy, but at least I remembered my erm...” she trailed off, winding her hand around as she thought on the word. “I always want to say my Antoinette, but she was a queen.” 

“Etiquette?” Beth offered, Mimi snapping her fingers. 

“That’s it!” 

Some things never changed.  

“So, how have you been, other than tired with sore boobs? I bloody remember that only too well, Mims,” she spoke, picking up her latte and giving it a cautionary blow before taking her first sip. Ahhh, a double shot. Heaven. How well her beloved Mims knew her.  

“I’ve been alright, you know,” she began, perusing the menu before her. “I mean, a woman can function perfectly well on ten minutes of sleep a night, can’t she?”  

“And if she can’t she gets used to it pretty flipping quick,” Beth quipped, making her decision over breakfast quickly. Pancakes with turkey bacon and eggs. She was famished. “How did your check-up go? Are all the sore bits healing nicely?” 

Both women had suffered quite badly during childbirth, Beth’s experience with Abe something so terrible, she very nearly elected a C-Section for Flora. Her midwife had advised her against such, though, stating a natural birth would be much better when she was fully fit and capable. Flora had been a blessing, thankfully, a speed birth of half an hour in active labour, her little girl out in six pushes.  

Mimi nodded as she sipped her orange juice, setting the tall glass back down. “Everything is healing as it should be, and I should be fine to ride again soon!” She’d kept her beloved horses, Bryn and Sunny, thinking at first that she would put them out on loan for a time to someone with enough of that very commodity to devote to them. That was until her darling friends had stepped in to help, Beth and Kinga appointing themselves as exercisers of Mimi’s four-legged friends.  

Being a much more skilled horsewoman than she had been nine years before upon first meeting Mimi, Bryn and all of his naughtiness was appointed to her, Kinga more novice and being tasked with Sunny’s exercise. They went most days in the afternoon, the people at the stables where they were kept taking on their day-to-day care.  

It was one of Beth’s favourite parts of the day, riding out over the fields after lunch aboard Bryn, or working him over eye wateringly huge fences in the arena, the likes of which she once never thought she’d have the bravery to attempt. 

Mimi had taught her well.  

“Oh, before I forget, give these to Magda before she raises merry hell with me,” Mimi then spoke, picking up a bag from her feet and passing it across to Beth. “She loaned me these for Josh’s office Christmas do. It was such a nice night, made even better for wearing a pair of this season’s Louis Vuitton’s on my feet!” 

Yes, Magda would indeed raise merry hell if any loans from her beloved wardrobe department were not returned promptly. Beth took the bag with a smile, placing it down beside her favourite bag of all time beneath the table, the dark blue Birkin Alfie had bought her all those years ago. She still had to shake her head in wonder sometimes, being a woman of such staggering wealth because of whom she was married to.  

Her world had blended with Alfie’s so effortlessly, it often felt like a dream to her still. There she was, with one of the women he’d once dated, Mimi now a married mother herself and long fully integrated within Beth’s friendship group as well as still being – as Alfie always worded it - ‘the bestest mate a fella could ask for.’ After Josh and her mum, Alfie had been the first she’d called upon finding out she was pregnant with her now eight-week-old daughter, Alissia.  

“How did you cope, being away from Liss for a few hours?” she asked with a smile.  

Mimi looked pained immediately. “I hated it! I missed her so much, and I know she was perfectly fine with Josh’s mum, but it didn’t feel right, not having a little bundle in my arms!”  

She remembered it well with Abe, becoming very emotional on her first night out with Alfie after he’d been born, being left in the care of his godparents, Magda and Dennis. Magda had switched her phone off in the end, Beth had called so incessantly to make sure he was okay. ‘You’ll bloody wake the little fella if you keep on calling me! He's fast asleep on Dennis’s chest, just threw up a load of milk all over the dog an’ all. Having a wail of time, he is!’ she remembered being assured.  

Moving their discussion on, both pledging they would never be the kind of women who couldn’t form conversation over anything other than their children, they sat and spoke about all sorts while catching up, Beth’s most recent articles, Mimi’s tentative plans to begin her own accounting business so that she could circumvent a return to office life and instead, work from home and be with her baby. With Josh earning so well now within the publishing world, her return to work truly didn’t need to be expedited quickly either.  

After breakfast, they made time to pamper themselves with a little salon treat, Mimi having a much-needed deep cleansing facial while Beth opted for a massage, wanting to be nice and relaxed for what would likely turn into a chaotic afternoon. It was Christmas tree shopping day, meaning that her children would go from their usual volume of eight right up to eight thousand, such was their excitement at the fairly new tradition.  

“Oi! Abraham Solomons, I see you back there, winding your sister up!” Alfie shouted, looking in the rearview mirror of his Range Rover two hours later, en route from his mother’s house to the garden centre.  

“She’s kicking me, dad!” 

“She can’t even reach you over there, mate. Nah, don’t you tell me no fibs, or this car gets turned around, right?”  

“But dad!” 

“Enough, my son!” 

Abe shrank down in his car seat with a scowl that was a hundred percent his father, Beth turning to give him a warning look that eventually turned into a smile. The Solomons crinkles were very much a hereditary thing. “Be a good boy.” she cooed, grabbing his foot and giving it a shake. Flora was asleep after ten minutes, Abe entertaining himself by narrating a commentary about the people they drove past in the streets, pulling up outside Birchen Grove Garden Centre after twenty minutes.  

“Come on, Flora snorer,” Alfie chimed, rousing his sleepy youngest. The noises that came from that child while she was sleeping. Beth had nearly haemorrhaged from laughter when he’d likened the sounds to ‘that geezer from the Police Academy films’ back when she was a baby. “Come on, my little peach. Let’s look lively, yeah?” 

“No daddy, I want naps!” she protested, Beth being dragged to examine a display of Christmas wreaths by a much spritelier Abe. 

“Child, you’d sleep your life away if we left ya to it. Come on, daddy’ll play pack horse and carry ya.”  

“Okay.” Immediately she reached for him, beaming as she buried her face against his neck. He gave it all of three minutes, the shiny bright of the garden centre’s Christmas displays delighting her eyes so much, she was scrambling to the floor and running off with her brother.  

“Breakage expenditures guesstimate?” Beth quipped, raising an eyebrow as they ran for a display in excited frenzy.  

“Bloody zero!” he bellowed, making a lady walking past him jump. “Go on, get over there and round up ya kids, duchess. I’ll go sort the tree.”  

She rolled her eyes. “Always my kids when they’re being disruptive.” She strode off, not before Alfie aimed a perfect smack to her bum, calling her little ones away from the glass baubles and trinkets, grabbing a basket on her way. She sensed more ornaments would be chosen, and she wasn’t wrong. At least they kept on brand with the theme of green, blue and silver, though.  

“Abraham!” Alfie barked, appearing with a Christmas tree over his shoulder a short time later, finding his son meddling with the nativity display. “Put the false prophet down, son.”  

Beth cringed, shielding her eyes for a moment beneath her hand as her husband drew disapproving stares, Abe unceremoniously returning to the baby Jesus doll back into the manger with all the passion of LeBron James performing a slam dunk.  

“Do you have to be so vociferously Jewish in your denouncing of the Christian lord and saviour?” she hissed, Alfie beaming. 

“Yeah, darlin’,” he laughed, scratching his beard with his free hand. “I bloody do!” 

Herding the children in the direction of the sales desk, she offered appeasing smiles to those offended by her husband and his boom. “Oy fucking vey.” 

Once the tree had been affixed to the roof, the children and purchases packed away, the family Solomons headed to lunch, the little ones making their demands known for a trip to Five Guys. Burgers often worked very well in placation, especially since Beth had designs on dragging her family to do a little bit of shopping afterwards. Kids with full tummies were often slowed down a tad by the weight of their meal.  

While Alfie was having his ear and wallet bended by two very enthusiastic children at the Hotel Chocolat shop, Beth moved down through the shopping mall a little, coming to a small nostalgia store. Since celebrating Christmas was mostly for the children’s benefit, she and Alfie didn’t exchange gifts for one another, but what she saw in the window swiftly negated that.  

“I’ll take them both, please.” she spoke to the sales assistant, hardly able to keep her giggles in as she watched him retrieve the two Ren and Stimpy plush toys from the window display. She would never forget how hard she had laughed all those years ago, when she and Alfie had gotten stoned together one evening, back when the lines between journalist and subject were becoming blurred.  

“Do you mean Ren, as in Ren and Stimpy?” 

“Yeah, the little angry weasel, or whatever he was.” 

The little angry weasel. The memory still brought her the same feelings of hilarity as they’d shared out in the garden of their home, when they were just beginning to fall for one another. She remembered it well, how she’d sat there with him, smoking weed while inwardly lamenting how unfair it was, to have met her perfect person, but with a very imperfect set of terms and conditions that went hand in hand with dating him.  

She couldn’t imagine her life now, should Alfie not have changed his mind. It often made her feel a pit in her stomach, if she thought on it for too long, being driven out of his life in that Uber, Alfie remaining with someone as deadly as Amira had proved herself to eventually be. Thankfully, the unhinged woman who had almost killed her remained languishing within a prison cell to that day.  

Yes, Beth kept tabs on her, just in case she had qualified for parole ahead of the recommended ten years post-sentencing. She couldn’t not now she was a mother, something within not trusting that her long custodial sentence would change her feelings towards her; or pose a risk to the safety of her children upon her release.  

Shaking the less warming thoughts of their past from her mind, she paid for her purchase and left the shop, popping into the Elemis store quickly to repurchase her skincare goodies, before she was met by her husband and two chocolate wielding children.  

The drive home was uneventful, the kids once again on excited mode as soon as they stepped foot into the house, hurling themselves at the many boxes Beth had brought up from the wine cellar the night before containing the Christmas decorations. With the tree placed into the stand, protective netting cut and two shrieking children armed with ornaments, Alfie stood back and watched the scene for a few moments, grinning adoringly at his little family.  

“Let me go and get a few work things done so I ain’t worrying about ‘em all weekend,” he spoke, giving her a little nod. “I’ll fetch you a Merlot on me way back, duchess.” She turned to blow him a kiss before he left the lounge, his grin still firmly in place as he headed down to the office, playing catch up on a few pressing demands on his time for half an hour. 

He then headed to the kitchen, preparing himself a coffee and sorting Cyril’s dinner once he got there. 4:47pm on a Saturday. That time nine years ago would usually mean the house was full of the hustle and bustle of various women getting ready, him returning from a leisurely dog walk and doing a quick bit of business prior to taking his three girlfriends’ out to somewhere fancy. 

How things had changed, and all for the better. 

On that particular Saturday evening, they were playing gracious hosts to Magda and Dennis, their friends coming over for dinner in a few hours, Alfie lifting the lid on the crockpot and giving the beef Bourguignon that had been slow cooking all day a good stir. Nobody cooked like his mother, but bloody hell, Beth gave her a run for her money.  

Furnished with a coffee, he took the large glass of wine through, handing it to his wife with a kiss. “You’ve done a cracking job with that, as usual.” Nodding toward the Christmas tree, he smiled, Beth leaning back into his embrace as Abe flicked the socket, all the warm white lights twinkling into glittered life.  

He might have complained, but beneath the layers of outward distain, he secretly loved Christmas just as much as he did Hanukkah. The joy it brought to his children was immeasurable, and for them, he would move the earth. Putting up a tree, buying gifts and having a nice turkey roast were small by comparison.  

After the decorations had been carefully laid out, Beth placing winter spice wax melts into the burners dotted around the home and running the vacuum around, the kids made their demands for dinner, Alfie sorting them with their request for fish fingers while Beth went to put the clean laundry away and run herself a bath.  

By the time she was done, she refilled the tub for the children, drying her hair while Alfie put himself on bathtime duty.  

“Daddy, look! You’re Father Christmas now!” Flora chirped, giggling as she covered his beard in a barrage of bubbles from the tub.  

“Nah, I ain’t! I’m not that old, and me belly ain’t that big either!”  

She was quick in her cheekily delivered comeback. “Yeah, it is.” 

“Oi!” he growled, picking up the small bucket bath toy and emptying it over her head. “Less of that, or I’m phoning Father Christmas and telling him not to drop by here on Christmas Eve, right?” 

Flora was aghast, Abe tittering to himself. “You wouldn’t, daddy!” 

“Yeah?” he spoke, reaching for the kid’s shampoo. “I do a hundred sit ups a day to make sure I ain’t got no Father Christmas belly, so you’ll cast your aspersions elsewhere, you hear me?”  

“Daddy, daddy,” she began, Alfie beginning to lather her hair. “Are aspersions what mummy makes with the cheese and butter?” 

He and Beth snorted with laughter immediately. “No, little babe. That’s asparagus.” 

“Oh!”  

“Blimey, she’s Mims mark two.” Beth laughed, shaking her head as she finished drying her hair. Once bath fresh and towel swathed, the children were dried and dressed in their pyjamas, both gladly going to bed with little protest. This left the couple with approximately ten minutes to get changed, Alfie sauntering around their ensuite naked as the day he was born, hampering Beth’s progress with her makeup.  

“Got time for a quickie?” 

She scoffed, loading her blusher brush and giving it a little tap. “Darling, with you there’s no such thing. Besides, they’ll be here in less than five minutes, and I’ve got to get the starter in the oven.” Turning around, she sighed painedly, looking down to see a certain part of her husband pointing right at her. “Later. Promise.”  

Giving his cock a good squeeze, she evoked his rumbling groan, delighting his neck with a little nibble before heading into the walk in, pulling on her underwear, grey flared trousers and a simple cropped white sweater. She then remembered her meal choice and changed it for black. There was no way she fancied trying to get Bourguignon sauce out of pale cashmere, she thought, racing when she heard the doorbell chime. 

Clipping her gold hoop earrings in, she was just alighting the stairs when the bell sounded for a second time, Beth jogging down the remainder and jumping over a snoozing Cyril.  

“Where you bloody been?” Magda charged, kissing her cheek. “Shagging, were ya?” 

“Almost,” she winked, reaching to kiss Dennis and take the bottle of Bollinger he carried with him with thanks.  

“Sold that Aston Martin this morning, so I thought we’d celebrate, love,” he spoke, Beth congratulating him as she swung the door shut behind them, Cyril heaving himself up to welcome their guests. “Hello, old lad. Claus sends his regards.”  

Out of their four rottweilers, Claus was the only one who remained, just turned nine and much like Cyril, a lot slower on his feet. It didn’t stop him from showing their two newer dogs who was boss, though, the couple switching from their preferred breed when two beautiful Staffordshire bull terriers had come up for adoption at Battersea Dog’s Home. Magda had triumphed in bending Dennis’s ear about it until he’d finally relented, bringing home Marley and Karma almost two years ago.  

“Where’s me kids?” the lady herself cried, noticing the lounge empty of small people. 

“We put ‘em to bed, or if they’d seen their auntie there’s no way we’d ever have got them to go willingly,” Alfie spoke, opening his arms as he entered the lounge. “How are ya, Mags? Lookin’ gorgeous as ever.”  

“They’re half the flippin’ reason I came!” she joked, kissing his cheek. “And thanks, you nearly had me here in joggers and a t shirt. Been up to my fucking eyes with it all day, I have. Inventory. Beth! Has our Mimi brought them bloody shoes back, or have I got to go up Primrose Hill and lynch the soppy mare for ‘em? Had to include ‘em on the list without ‘em actually being there to save me flippin’ hide!” 

She breathed a sigh of relief when her bestie lifted the bag from behind the sofa, pointing to it. “Come on, come tell me all about your wardrobe woes while I get this champagne on ice.” 

Magda did not disappoint. The inventory of the wardrobe department was a huge undertaking, Magda spending the four days it took before everything was cleared ready for the new season’s attire to fill her sacred space catalogued and cleared out, the items heading back to their respective fashion houses.  

“So I’m there, right, and I’m yelling at the dopey cow that two C’s mean Chanel and two G’s mean Gucci, and if she can’t work that out then why the fuck is she trying to carve out a career in fashion in the first flippin’ place! Told her to go get me bloody coffee and have a think about it while she was gone. Honestly, these flamin’ bloody bastard people they send me to train!”  

Some things truly never did change. Magda had not softened at all, and Beth still found much entertainment in her various tirades against the newcomers to ELLE magazine. “And you wanna know the best part? Only fucking walks past Ralph Lauren during his visit and asks who he is!” 

Beth was aghast. “You’re bloody joking me!” 

“Babe, I nearly fell through the fucking floor!” Taking the champagne handed to her with thanks, she toasted her, pulling her cigarettes from her bag. “Just going for a quick smoke, back in a flash.”  

They had a truly lovely evening together, all discussing their impending break out to Santorini to escape the cold grey that was a winter in London, heading over for a week the day after Boxing Day, wanting to see in the New Year in the sunshine at Beth and Alfie’s luxurious villa.  

“I’ll still never forgive you, mate. Stoned and naked, chasing me down, you twat,” Dennis remarked, remembering back to the first time he and Magda had visited the island to stay within Alfie’s abode, the man himself roaring with laughter at the memory. God, it felt like it had been yesterday, yet nine long, fun filled years had passed in the time between.  

“At least you didn’t have him rubbing his cock all over your leg!” Magda snorted, Alfie winking. 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t bloody love it, Mags!” She pulled a kissy face at him, lifting her wine glass and taking a big gulp, washing down the remainer of her food. Beth truly had done a splendid job with everything.  

The pair stayed for coffee before heading home, Beth loading the dishwasher while humming to music playing on her phone, the feel of Alfie’s hands rubbing over her bum signalling his arrival in the kitchen.  

“Right, now it’s just us and you’ve got the dishes all seen to, it’s someone else’s turn for a bloody good seeing to. Know what I mean, treacle?”  

Oh, how she did.  

She only just about had the chance to add a tablet into the slot and kick the door shut before she was thrown over his shoulder, squealing as he smacked her bum with every step that took them up to their bedroom.  

They tumbled into a kiss, greedy, sinful, longing. All that they had once been hadn’t been diminished by marriage, children or time, their fires still burning as brightly as ever for one another. Making short work of their undress, they hit the bed in a tangle of limbs, Alfie quickly extracting himself to go and flick the lock on the bedroom door, save another embarrassed explanation to Abe over what they were doing.  

“Were you and mum wrestling?” the little lad had inquired, after his parents had hastily dressed upon the morning they’d been caught at it, back when he was five. 

Alfie had never cringed so hard in all his life. “Somat like that, my son.” It had been down to Beth to tentatively explain the birds and the bees, Alfie making himself scarce at speed. 

With any entry from small people prevented, he returned to the bed, grabbing Beth’s legs and lying himself between them, his mouth returning to hers with a hungry grunt. The noise had sparks fluttering through her core, the sound of her husband stirred by passion causing tingles to spark, the scent of her arousal intoxicating to him, his hand sliding down her body to cup at her. She gasped, biting his lower lip before their tongues danced wickedly again, a thick finger swiping at her folds, feeling her petals, the heat of her magmatic against him as he explored.   

“Been wanting this all fuckin’ evening, baby beast.” he panted, mouth slipping to her neck, pressing sumptuous, full-lipped kisses that made her shiver like a summer rose touched by the first chill of autumnal frost. 

A sob welled in her throat, pouring from her like wine as that thick digit pushed within, her glistening walls hugging upon it, eyes a burn of blue fire, body keening against his. God, how she still craved him with such unbridled hunger, their connection every inch as magmatic as it had ever been. She rocked against his hand, greedy for more, a second finger joining the first as he held her neck and returned his lips to hers, kissing her with unmatched thirst. 

He was rigid as iron against her hip, her hands smoothing over tattooed flesh, his muscles cording beneath her touch. She grasped him, pulling upward on his cock, sending a ripple through him that caused his chest to jolt. There was no touch more perfect than that of his wife. He breathed raggedly against the swirl of her tongue, head dipping, teeth sharp at her nipples in turn, fingers curling within her soaking cunt to rake exactly where she needed them to.  

She gasped words of longing, Alfie’s mouth descending in a path of loving, heated kisses, the taste of her skin like sweet berries upon his tongue, every touch a constellation laid over her pale curves, igniting her lust to burn like a forest fire. 

Her sex called to him like a siren through a dark, misty night, polarizing, screaming to him, his mouth descending to feast upon her. Closing his full lips around her glistening folds, he sucked upon her hungrily, the elixir of her pouring into his mouth as he tasted her, lost himself to her, felt himself burn to hear the aroused cadence of his beautiful wife.   

She tasted like sharp honey, womanly nectar seeping onto his tongue as he lapped at her in greed, craving more as he buried his mouth against her, her pale legs virtually knotting themselves around his head. Her wail filled the room in soft song, and the sound burned the edges of his very marrow, his heart skipping beats. 

Her hips rucked against his face, a rush of heat evoked by his tongue tracing never ending circles at her clit making her glow, the pleasure biting and throbbing, his hands roaming her all over. She felt besieged by all he bestowed upon her, the touch familiar but never boring. It never was with Alfie. Monotony was not a word heard of within their bedroom. 

Driving his tongue harder against her potent bundle, feeling the little bud beginning to quake under the unrelenting licks, he watched her, her body quivering as he caused a caustic rush. Glimmers began to skitter through her as he brought her to the brink of it, Beth teetering as he paused in tease, gently blowing upon her clit before sucking once again.  

She came apart with a feral cry, her thighs rigid, panting as her release washed over her in ceaseless waves. His lips tended a diligent path back to her mouth, cock daggering into her trembling centre, a rumbled gasp floating from his mouth to hers as he felt her walls fluttering around his girth.   

He stretched and filled her, hands weaving through the long dark of her hair, Beth moaning against each sweet kiss offered, tasting herself upon his mouth. The very flesh and blood of him drew out the primal need within her to give him everything and take what he so willingly poured into her. 

Their intense love and lust for one another collided in perfect alchemy, her slippery walls flexing around him as she glossed the thick cock splitting her wide, her wails like celestial music drifting into his mind as she wrapped her beautiful legs around him. Pushing into his chest, she turned him, Alfie hitting the bed with a thud and a chuckle.  

“Oh, so the duchess wants to be in charge for a bit, ay?”  

She grinned, leaning to him, offering kisses steeped in smoking honey. “Well, if there’s one person you relinquish control for.” 

She began to move against him with tantalising allure, her hips circling as she bore down on his length, little pricks of pleasure melting down her spine. It took diligence, but he was soon a mess beneath her, sweat streaking his tattooed flesh, his cock throbbing within the clench of her walls. Her movements became more focused, wanting to send him reeling into the blinding eclipse of pleasure, feel his enormity crest beneath her.   

The soaking clench of her cunt fluttered strongly around him, the pressure perfect as he felt it crackle furiously before the fire ripped through him completely. With his cock pulsing, he filled her of all which she milked from him, his head thudding back against the bed, gritted teeth finally relaxing as he swam in ecstasy.  

His soul floated somewhere above him, rendered a shaking wreck by her, colours illuminating behind his closed eyelids, everything fluid as the waves continued to wash through him, his heart thundering. She gentled her motions, coming to a stop, her walls flexing around him, but not in the same way as he knew would have had she reached the same cataclysmic finish as he, and for that, he would make much amends. 

They lay stroking one another, chattering, laughing as the night hours drew out. He needed a little more recovery time, now he’d hit his mid-forties, but once that was attained... 

Beth shrieked loudly as her back hit the bedroom wall, glad the children’s bedrooms were a fair enough distance for her yelp not to wake them, laughing excitedly. His mouth covered hers, her legs firm in their hug around his waist as his hands glided over her sweat slicked hair, hips beginning to drive forth into her burning centre. 

She wailed at the fever-hot intrusion of him, merciless in his delivery, fucked hard and fast against the wall coated in luxury paint. His groans spilled onto her tongue, swirling with his, her moans arrowing into the epicentre of his lust for her as he drove into her like a piston. 

Her elegant, dark red nails clawed at his back, marking him, the sting both sharp and sweet as he persisted in frantically building her up to inferno. For him, she would burn to her very bones and back. He’d never accepted any less. 

Alfie never would either. 

Her cries of abandon filled the air as he slowed his rhythm, backing off from a frenzied, merciless pounding of her cunt to a slow, purposeful movement, dragging every girthy inch of his cock in a sumptuously slow glide against her twitching walls.  

Spearing her again hard, he reached her hilt and shuddered with overwhelming desire, arms snaking beneath her trembling thighs to spread her wider, allowing him to bottom out deeper, filling her to the very summit of her cunt. He then slowed, everything potently drawn out, the tempest swirling slowly, but by no means less brutally.  

He was soaked in her slick, her walls hugging him snugly as he withdrew slowly once again, his cock glistening in the low light. It was almost too much to withstand for him, how hot she smouldered all over, but nowhere more so than her cunt. She was like magma around him, without the pain of an unhealable burn.   

Alternating, he drove into her hard again, balls smacking against her with a lewd slap as he began to fuck her frenziedly, Beth demanding he go harder, her nails once again clawing like a feral feline as she felt her ascension flood her body. Sparks skittered through her, her release the full moon rising over his dark horizon as she came apart for him with maddening intensity.   

He pounded her voraciously, giving her no time to recover from his afflictions, fucking her with consuming vigour. Her aroused cries grew louder, her voice breaking with fervour, each thrust the ignition for lightning to begin darting up her spine once more.    

“That’s it, baby. Come again for me.” He growled low in her ear, tongue brushing her throat and his hand fisting her clammy hair to yank her head back, the howl of release reverberating through his ear as his teeth implanted themselves into her shoulder, the pain adding to the overwhelming pleasure.    

Little tremors wracked his cock as he slowed again, wanting to experience those pleasurable twinges as intensely as possible. Re-establishing the surging pace, he let go of her hair and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to take the full, unyielding brunt of every acerbically delivered thrust.    

His groans were as low as rolling thunder, chasing the next release he knew she had for him. They were slick with sweat, bodies simmering, ready and willing to boil for one another again, the embers of their fuck growing, glowing, the fire roaring through them as he felt himself spill into the viscid clutch of her cunt as she shook hard through her own release.   

They swam in bliss together, alone in the bright light of orgasmic abandon, just him and her entwined, the rest of the world falling away. The sound of her soft exclamations through each laboured gasp brought him back from it, looking at her adoringly.  

“My Bethany. Still a little wild’un, ain’t ya, darlin?” 

Trying to catch her breath, she left out a comic huff, kissing the tip of his nose as he chuckled. “Always am for you, boo.” 

He carried her to the ensuite, both taking a quick, refreshing shower to cleanse the sweat which had beaded them, Beth pulling on a clean nightie and Alfie his pyjama bottoms, unlocking the door on the way back to the bed. Gone were the days of enjoying sleeping with nothing other than each other wrapped around their nakedness, now that they usually had early morning visitors to their bed.  

Whistle, beep, snore, grizzle, whistle, snore. Yes, they could only be the sounds of one person that awoke Alfie at 5:52am the following morning, pulling back the duvet to see Flora snuggled up beside him.  

“Ahh, ‘ello, Officer Jones,” he spoke, stroking her messy hair, Beth snorting with laughter at his side. 

“We have to let them watch those films at some point, they’ll love them,” she spoke, referring to the Police Academy films, one of the characters who of course her daughter seemed to take after in the sound effects department.  

“Yeah, when they’re a bit older,” he agreed, pulling back the duvet to see Abe snuggled in beside his mother. “Ahh, the other one found his way in too. Like homing beacons, innit?” 

Just then, the door was shunted open, their furry child ambling in and jumping up onto the foot of the bed, the family complete. Flora stirred, rubbing her eyes and smiling widely. “Cyril.” she croaked, crawling from under the covers, her fleecy security blanket within her grasp. Plonking herself down next to the gargantuan dog, she covered them both with the swathe of soft, grey fleece, kissing his head and wrapping her arms around his neck.  

“I suppose you’re going to get up and workout, hmm?” Beth asked, Alfie turning over and wrapping her in his arms, reaching to gently stroke Abe’s head.  

“Nah, love. I’m happy exactly where I am.” 

That went for all five of them. 

The End.  

[throughgoeshamilton]

Resurrection

A The Other Shelby story

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x fem!reader (OC hybrid)

Summary: A Jewish gangster resurrecting from the dead and his love trying to deal with the situation.

Words: 2.500

Warnings: none

A/N: Big thanks to @cillmequick for beta reading and being so supportive of me 🫶 Same goes to @queenshelby for the emotional support 🥺

Her hands were fidgety on the steering wheel as she navigated the car through the streets of Kent. She wished she could've distracted herself from her nerves by petting Cyril next to her but the Bullmastiff was too big of a beast to properly fit into the passenger seat. He got that from his dad. Instead, he was resting in the backseat, looking out of the window from time to time whenever they drove past something mildly interesting for a dog.

When the car came to a stop half an hour later, she allowed herself a second to take a deep breath and mentally prepare. For what exactly, she didn't know.

Cyril had his snout on the ground the entire way from her car to the front door of the welcoming beach home, his tail constantly wagging, as if he knew something she didn't.

She sighed before she pressed the doorbell and moments later, the heavy door opened, revealing a tall middle aged woman wearing a housekeeper uniform. The lady stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the short redhead and the huge dog in front of her.

“Miss Shelby…”

“Hello Mary” she replied shyly.

It has only been two months, yet it felt like an eternity to her. An eternity filled with what had felt like incurable grief, and a strange kind of hope.

“Is he home yet?”

Mary kept staring at her, as if she couldn't process what that question was supposed to mean, who “he” was, before she nodded slightly and took a step aside to let the young woman and the dog enter.

“He released himself from the hospital two days ago. The doctor comes to see him twice a day now, to make sure he…” Mary paused, apparently unsure about what was left for the doctor to heal at this point, “I have to warn you, Miss Shelby, it's not a pretty sight.”

She didn't give her a response to that statement as she followed the maid upstairs to what she assumed to be the master bedroom. Of course, it wasn't pretty. Her brother had shot him in the face. It was a miracle he was still alive.

Mary gently knocked on the door before slowly opening it, even though no one inside the room had given them permission to enter.

“Mister Solomons… there's someone who would like to see you.”

Alfie was lying on his bed, eyes closed, hands folded on his stomach and if it wasn't for the slow smacking of his lips, she would've thought he was dead for real. The big wound that covered half of his face was still slightly red and swollen, a very prominent scar was about to stay right below his eye.

“Tell’em to come ‘ere another time. 'm resting.”

“Only God knows why you're not resting in hell right now.”

On the way from London to Margate, she had told herself that she would be gentle with him. He was still healing so the last thing he needed was her taking out her anger on him immediately. But the way he was lying there, in a big four-poster bed with several flasks of medicine, empty and full, next to him on the bedside table, with the aftermath of her brother's assassination attempt so obvious, she couldn't control the variety of feelings that went through every inch of her body. She was angry, oh so angry at him. At the same time, she was happy he was still here.

Her Alfie.

The sound of her voice made him open his eyes slowly, squinting against the sunlight that flooded the room. He was looking at her, not showing the slightest reaction to her standing here, in his bedroom, two months after he had tried to fuck over her whole family and her brother had shot him for it. Alfie cleared his throat before he started speaking again.

“Y’know, treacle, at the hospital… they gave me some pretty strong shit I s’ppose. You were there all the time. But Cyril is new, look a’ him. Good boy. Does mamma take good care of ya? Bet she does.”

He was interrupted by a nasty cough that had him screw up his face in pain as the skin around the deep wound seemed to stretch due to the sudden movement. It made her painfully aware how much recovering he still had to do and that was only what was visible from the outside. The damage Tommy’s bullet had done inside his skull, physically and mentally, was to be explored by her in the upcoming days.

She took a few steps closer to his bed until she was at the height of his stomach where she carefully put her hand on one of his arms.

“I'm real, Alfie. This has nothing to do with the morphine. Cyril is real too.”

As if to prove her point, the huge dog sat down on the other side of his dad's bed, lying his big head onto the mattress and getting it wet with his slobber. Alfie reached out to him, petting him softly as if to test that he wasn't touching a pipe dream of his.

“I reckon I died in my sleep and went to hell with ya, treacle. But Cyril belongs in heaven, so ‘is not right.”

The fact that he saw both of them rotting in hell while his dog had to go to heaven made her chuckle. He wasn't wrong though.

“How did ya find out your little cunt of a brother failed in putting an end to my life?”

“Alfie!”

“Sorry right, yeah. Your big cunt of a brother.”

She rolled her eyes at him but smiled nonetheless. Even with all the unresolved anger, grief, sadness and heartbreak inside of her, he still knew the way straight to her heart: by making her laugh.

“You wrote me a letter from the hospital, giving me your address here in Margate. I have to say, it was pretty rude of you to keep this place from me the whole time. We could've come here for holidays.”

“Yeah y’know, treacle, I would've told you but then everything went south and I figured, I should die here alone. If your brother had done his job right, that is.”

There was a lump building in her throat. She would've told him something too, before everything went south.

“I bought it for us, for when we retire. But now 'm officially dead so you could say my retirement is long overdue, innit?”

He had his eyes closed again as she absentmindedly stroked his forearm and thought about his words. They could've had it so much easier, hadn't he cheated Tommy with the Changrettas. She cleared her throat and left his bedside as she approached the bedroom door.

“I'd like to stay a few days, if that's okay with you. Nobody knows I'm here, you'll stay a dead man for the rest of the Shelby family for as long as you want.”

“You could put it in the papers and it still wouldn't make up for half of what I did to you, treacle.”

She didn't know how to feel about his sudden mea culpa. Something like that didn't come lightly from a man like Alfie Solomons but the nonchalance with which he had said the words made her swallow hard. He allowed himself to look at her again, the gaze of his good eye was as soft as she remembered it from happier times between the two of them.

“Tell Mary to give you a room and if there's anything you need, tell her too. She'll take care of it.”

“I'll be fine, Alfie.”

-

Mary was kind enough to prepare one of the other bedrooms in the house for her, even though she had reassured her that she was more than capable of taking care of everything herself. Unlike a certain Jewish gangster peacefully snoring next door, now that the doctor had given him another dose of medicine.

Within the next few days, she made sure to support Mary in her chores, against the harsh protests of the middle-aged housekeeper. But besides helping her in the kitchen, making breakfast, lunch and dinner, she first and foremost took over the nursing duties for Alfie. The wound needed to be cleaned regularly and treated with ointment to help the healing and prevent further infections. Apart from that, he needed help whenever he wanted to get up. His bad hip and the sciatica didn't take well to all the lying down he had to do.

On his good days, they walked a little, his arm linked with hers for support, although she knew that in the worst case, there was no way she could catch and hold this beast of a man. Sometimes they even made it to the beach, letting Cyril stroll through the sand as they watched the ships passing by. It was risky business to be outside with him because if the word got out that Alfie Solomons was still alive, the peace he had found for himself here would come to an abrupt end. Not that it was likely anyone who knew Alfie, let alone was interested in his business, would wander the beaches of Margate but at the same time, she hadn't expected the man himself to settle down here of all places. You never knew where those gangsters were causing trouble.

“Even if, and that is a big if, love… even if there was someone strolling along the beach trying to kill this old fragile man,” Alfie had said to her one day after she had voiced her concern for his safety, “I have a gun and you, luv, are the best shot in all of England, aren't ya? Nothing to worry about.”

He had shown her said gun he was carrying under his big black coat, making her roll her eyes at him. If she had thought a shot to his face had changed anything about his ways, she had been wrong. How naïve of her. But who was she to judge? Not like her ways were any less brutal.

That had been the first time she had let Alfie intertwine his fingers with hers while they still had had their arms linked, him slightly leaning onto her every time his hip had sent a stinging pain through his leg. When they had arrived back at the house, he had brought her hand to his face and gently kissed her knuckles before looking into her eyes, searching for a reaction that would've shown him that they were getting better. She had known he couldn't have said it, hadn't had the words or the courage to make himself even more vulnerable in front of her. Nonetheless, she had felt his silent “thank you” through the little gesture and she had known it hadn't been just for keeping him company on a walk to the beach. It had stood for everything he hadn't said thank you for yet and even when she had sensed all that, in that moment, she had wished he had said it out loud, so not only her mind had heard it, but her heart as well.

-

The treatment of his face had become another ritual of theirs that they'd cultivate before every meal they had together. With the nurses and then Mary taking care of it, he had been annoyed each time he had heard the noise of a washcloth being wrung out. This wasn't his first gunshot wound and if he chose to resurrect, it wouldn't be his last either. But now that his love, the love he had thought he had lost - and maybe he had - was gently petting over the scarring tissue, being babied didn't feel so bad to the former King of Camden Town.

She was sitting on the side of his bed, her hip touching his as she was leaning over, trying not to hurt him while also getting rid of the matter his skin produced regularly to heal the wound.

“I wanna ask you a favour, treacle.”

She sighed as she put down the washcloth from the bad side of his face.

“What is it, Alfie?"

“I want one of ya special kisses.”

“For fuck’s sake Alfie, I'm not gonna blow your-”

“Not like that… a kiss from you. It’s special to me.”

He looked at her, studied her face with his good eye while the other one felt like it was piercing through her, making her look away from him.

“I love ya, treacle. And I think there's a reason you came ‘ere, and stayed.”

Her hands were soaking from the wet cloth in them so she put it back into the small bowl of water on the bedside table while she was processing his words. There was a reason indeed.

“I love you too, Alfie, still do. That's the problem. After what you did to my family, I should've come here to finish what Tommy couldn't,” she had been staring at her wet hands the whole time, trying to keep her composure as her nerves felt like they were eating her up from the inside, “but I could never.”

She now turned her head towards him, taking one of his big paws between her delicate fingers to lead it underneath her blouse, onto her stomach, as she looked at his face.

“There is a reason I came here, and I stayed. The doctor says it's four months, size of a pear now.”

Alfie had never been known to be the emotional type but the way he stared at her belly, hand still resting there, with an expression on his face that she couldn't read, he scared her.

Did he not want it?

As his fingers started to move, gently stroking her slight bump, she relaxed a little.

“Four months you say, eh? So when it's coming in five… is it gonna be a Solomons or a Shelby?”

His question hurt her, the fact that he was unsure if he was allowed to be a father to the child or not, but at the same time, it made her love him even more. He knew he didn't have a right to stay in her or the baby's life, not after everything he put her through. He always made sure to keep her safe, making her part of the deal so she wouldn't be harmed. But that didn't change the emotional damage he had done to her by threatening her family.

When she let go of his hand on her stomach, she put hers on the good side of his face instead, the pad of her thumb caressing his beard.

“We have five months to figure this out,” she smiled at him before leaning down to carefully touch his lips with hers in a soft kiss.

[alicent-targaryen]

GARDENER!ALFIE & FLORIST!ALFIE aesthetic boards

for @runnning-outof-time's 3k challenge

[evita-shelby]

Mysterious

It was supposed to be longer but the final word count was 666 and i couldn't ruin that lol

The lovely Rose Coldwell is @raincoffeeandfandoms blorbo from her brain.

They could solve this mystery with a snap of their fingers and yet both guess who the mysterious Mr. Coldwell is as the day of the masquerade ball rolls around.

Tommy had hit it off with Rose Coldwell when they met at 10 Downing Street. Both on their first days of their job, both relieved neither one was romantically nor sexually interested in the other.

They agreed on policy, they were in the same party and both fucking hated the same people.

A perfect friendship made even more perfect when she hit it off with Eva at a tea hosted by Ishbel MacDonald. Sure, Eva had accidentally turned her tea into her favorite expensive Cuban rum, but both women were as thick as thieves now.

“Do you think he’s ugly? Beautiful women always get with ugly men.” Eva says and he is shocked she’d say that.

Not because Eva would think she was unattractive, film stars would kill to look like her, but because she’d imply, he was the unattractive one in the equation.

“You say that as if you didn’t almost kill the last woman who made a pass at me, Evie.” Tommy was not full of himself; he is just aware of the effect he has on women and homosexuals.

“Oh, I didn’t mean us, honey. We are the exception.” The witch amended and he snorted.

It is then that they see the man on her arm.

Even with the half mask he wears, he knows that fucker anywhere.

Alfred fucking Solomons.

The man he shot and who’s dog he stole.

He was the mysterious Mr. Coldwell.

“Ah the elusive Mrs. Solomons then.” Eva doesn’t take the reveal as badly as he does. “I suppose the universe had to uneven the scales for them, can’t have too many exceptions for that rule.”

Rose is going to murder him.

Rose had been plagued with night terrors of the man who nearly killed Alfie a year ago.

She hadn’t seen his face, nor would her husband tell her his name, but this man had to be connected to the Shelbys. After all Alfie had run afoul of them when the Changrettas came to fulfill their vendetta.

This is where Thomas Shelby MP OBE came in, he’d hand over the man on a silver platter and return Cyril for good measure.

They got along fine, he was pleasant when he wanted to be and after meeting his family, there was no way it could ever go wrong.

“You didn’t have to come.” Rose knows Alfie hated these events and liked the aura of mystery surrounding his existence.

Most were aware she had a husband, that he was Jewish and from Camden Town as well.

Most believed he was Mr. Coldwell and not that she was Mrs. Solomons.

“I couldn’t miss this one for the world, love.” He had said as he affixed the white mask that covers his scars perfectly before their car came to a stop.

Tommy looks like he’s seen a ghost when he sees the man on her arm.

Of course, they’d know each other, their gangs have fought and collaborated with each other since 1922.

“Wasn’t enough you left me for dead, you had to steal me fucking dog too?” Alfie smirked as Shelby stood there still as a statue.

The man she called her friend was the same monster from her nightmares. Thomas fucking Shelby was the man who tried to murder her husband.

Rose’s instinct says violence and yet she cannot make her fist move.

“I wouldn’t try that, if I were you.” Eva warns with a tone as smooth as silk and the corner of her bloody mouth twitched upward like a smirk. “Did he tell you why Tommy shot him? What made him so angry he’d actually try to murder him?

If it weren’t for Frida, we’d all be dead.”

Despite this, the Solomons-Coldwell couple are the last to leave Arrow House.

They couldn’t leave without Cyril after all.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

MidnightsWithDearKatyTSPB’s Recommendation List: March PT. 2

Welcome to part 2 of March’s recommendation list. Down below, you can find the link to take you back to part 1 featuring Peaky Blinders, Frankie Morales from Triple Frontier, Frank Castle, and the works that I posted. I still have some specialists that I’m traveling to go see, so there might not be 32 links this time around, but we’ll have to wait and see. The goal for March is to write another chapter In This Heart and rewrite The Spark. If you are interested in having your writing challenges featured here, or your stories, or even just your blog, please feel free to tag me in your works, message me, or use the hashtag MidnightWithDearKatyTSPB. I hope you are having an amazing March and you didn’t have such a hard time springing ahead. 

☘️ March '23 Pt. 1

April '23 Pt. 1 🌸

Masterlist

37 of 44 Years (Moodboard) ... Dedication to my parents.

All For You My Daisy (Moodboard) >> Garret Hedlund, Pedro Pascal, and Tommy Shelby

Begin Again (Moodboard) >> Ted Lasso x OFC!Penny Fletcher | Moodboard made for @teds-mustache-wrangler story Begin Again.

Innocence and Sadness (Moodboard) >> Arthur Shelby ... dedicated to @cillmequick

Peaky x Lana Challenge (Moodboard) >> Alfie Solomons x Reader x Tommy Shelby | “I’ve got a black limousine and two gentlemen who escort me through these halls.” 

Two Broken Souls (Moodboard) >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Estella Holland | “Come, Josephine in my flying machine. Going up, she goes, up she goes.”

Update//Calm Down by All Time Low (Moodboard) >> Garrett Hedlund, Luke Grimes, and Pedro Pascal

ONE-SHOTS:

As His Daughter by @sneakyblinders >> Dad!Tommy Shelby x Reader ft. Daughter!Kate Shelby - Summery: As Kate Shelby becomes an older sister yet again, she realizes she doesn't really know her father. Her mother is on a mission to change that. | You'll go through the emotions with this one, I promise. For those who need the warning, there are mentions of childbirth!

Loving Girl by @valentine-in-my-quinjet >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: You've always known you would be a better partner for Tommy. After Grace died, you had to reassess your motivations for being close to Tommy because he needed a friend more than ever before. | You will need a tissue with this one. TW: Suicide Mentioned

Make Your Heart My Home by @look-at-the-soul >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summery: Y/N hasn't had the best life. In fact, she's physically running from it into the physical arms of one Tommy Shelby, who saves her. | Read this, get a little emotional, but fall in love with its ending.

Mr. Girraffe by @teenwolf-theoriginals >> Dad!Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Florence's giraffe gets lost in Johnny Dogs camp. | The family dynamic in this is quite adorable, and I love how sweet Tommy is as well.

The Perfect Team by @runnning-outof-time >> Arthur Shelby x Reader - Summary: Arthur's ability to reason with (Y/N)'s child has them realizing that they work rather well together. | This is absolutely adorable and light-hearted, definitely recommend reading it.

'Teach You a Lesson by @celticmelody >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: you’re soon to marry Thomas Shelby, the infamous horseman amongst the gangsters in Birmingham. however, when he finds out you’ve never ridden before, he makes it a task to teach you… amongst other lessons that unravel afterwards. | If all riding lessons with Tommy were to end this way, I would take them every day as well. 🥵

When One Heart Breaks The Other, Follows by @little-diable >> Tommy Shelby x Reader | Summary: Tommy has been at war for months, and the only thing the reader can cling to is the letters he kept writing. Until the day when he no longer writes to her, when she no longer knows if he's alive or not. All until one last letter finds its way to her. | I've been emotional lately, okay? So did I need tissues when I read this? Yes! But was I smiling by the end? YES!

SERIES:

*A Different Sort of Man Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 by @evita-shelby >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Eva, Canon!Tommy x Grace Burgess - Summary: Or where Eva plays around with magic, and Tommy wakes up in a universe where Grace is his wife. While in that universe, Tommy discovers just how different his life would have been if he had pursued the pretty witch in 71 Watery Lane. | My mother always warned me growing up to never fiddle with magic, but this just makes me want to... Only two chapters in, and it's so good. The switching of points of view is everything I could have asked for.

The Photographer // Part 13 by @midnightmagpiemama >> Modern!Tommy Shelby x Photographer!Reader - Summary: Hired to take pictures of your boyfriend's cousin's wedding, you are excited to spend the night in the presence of your boyfriend doing what you love. The night, however, doesn't go as according to plans. Or, the one where Gina and Micheal get married, Gina sits Lizzy at Tommy's table. And people have opinions on your relationship with Tommy. | Erin is such a fantastic writer, and I truly love this series. In this chapter, she just captures Tommy and Polly so beautifully.

A Royal Wedding of Small Heath Part 1 // Part 2 by @sneakyblinders >> Tommy Shelby x Reader - Summary: Tommy is getting married in what the newspaper is calling The Royal Wedding of Small Heath with the announcement of their engagement. It's fitting, as his wife is his Queen. | If I had to picture my wedding to Tommy, this is exactly how I would want it to go. I love how some parts came straight from the TV show. It was just perfect.

Welcome to Downtown, Mr. Shelby by @notyour-valentine >> Tommy Shelby x Crawley!OC - Summary: He was born on a boat, with neither of his parents sure of the date after the fact, unregistered and unlisted until he went to fight for his country. Her birth had been celebrated with the ringing of church bells, champagne toasts, and announcements in newspapers on both sides of the Atlantic. Their worlds could not have been more different, and perhaps that was why, when Thomas Shelby looked at Lady Charlotte Crawley, he saw more than her title, more than her looks- he saw an opportunity. | Enjoyed reading this and emerging myself into this little world, and look forward to what is to come for Charlotte and Tommy.

SERIES:

*Push & Pull // Chapter 4: Coming Of Age by @milkymoon2483 >> Frank Castle X Plus Size Jewish OC Hannah Friedman - Summary: You’re going back to your small town for your father’s funeral and Shiva. You know you’re about to face family drama, but what worries you the most is that you’re going to see HIM, your dad’s long-time friend and probably the most attractive man you have ever met.  When Frank finally sees you and realizes that you're all grown up, he struggles with accepting his budding feelings for you. | This chapter had me feeling so many emotions. You start with a stomach drop, then you feel so sad, and then you end it on a great high, needing a tall glass of water to cool down. Anna knows how to make you feel every emotion that the main character is going through at every moment of the chapter. That is a true talent.

Triple Frontier:

🍑 Appeteaser Benny Miller + Shower Sex by @dameronscopilo >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: Benny comes home after a long day and enjoys some time with his girl. | Let me just say this is really hot, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Here With Me by @pasukiyo >> Frankie Morales x f!reader - Summary: When your husband promises it will only be one week, your gut tells you it won't, you beg him to stay if not just for you, but for your family. (Horrible summary by me) | This starts off so sad and emotional, and it ends on a spicy note. It's perfect.

A Proposition by @dameronscopilot >> Santiago "Pope" Garcia x f!reader x Benjamin "Benny" Miller - Summary: Benny returns to Florida after six months of backpacking his way across Australia, and the surf and sun have treated him well. Very well. You can't help but notice. ...Santiago thinks that maybe it's time for the two of you to change things up in the bedroom. Because if he's going to share you with anyone, it's most certainly going to be Benjamin Miller | Is it just me, or is it really HOT in here right now? 🥵 I think I better go open the window after reading this one.

Untitled Sick!fic with Benny by @dameronscopilot >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: benny knows exactly what you need when you're sick—in more ways than one. | If Benny ever wants to come to take care of me like this when I'm sick, or now even, he's more than welcome.

"Wear whatever you want, I can fight." by @plaguedoctorsmistress >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: When your boyfriend can’t seem to do anything but whine about your outfit, Benny’s jealousy finally gets the best of him, and he takes matters into his own hand. | Benny can defend my honor any day and call me princess all he wants.

*The Wedding Party by @goodwithcheese >> Frankie Morales x f!reader - Summary: Series Summary: A combined bachelorette/bachelor party introduces you to a brown-eyed pilot. | I loved this series so much that I read it in one night on AO3 when I came across it. I'm so glad it came up on my dashboard so I could share it with you guys here. It's both fluffy and sexy!

You Again?! by @theunbearableweightofpedropascal >> Benny Miller x Reader - Summary: You keep running into the guy you had sex with in an airport bathroom. | If you looking for some good spiciness and a mixture of giggles, this one is for you.

CILLIAN MURPHY:

Chances Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, & Part 4 by @creativepawsworld >> Cillian Murphy x OFC!Paige - Summary: A single mother meets an unlikely lover after a concert. Putting herself out of her comfort zone. Can she find herself a mate for life? | The story has everything in it, fluff, a little bit of angst, and some spiciness.

Quicky by @peakyscillian >> Cillian Murphy x Fem!Reader - Summary: Cillian just can't wait. | If you are looking for something romantic, hot, and with a dash of laughter, this is it.

GERALT OF RIVIA:

Late Bloomer by @cherienymphe >> Alpha!Geralt x Omega!Reader - Summary: Geralt of Rivia saves you from more than just a werewolf attack. | Sometimes, a one-shot is so good you share it twice with your followers. I'm pretty sure I shared it when I first started doing recommendations, and I'm sharing it again.

PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS:

Chokehold by @psychedelic-ink >> Joel Miller x Reader x Ezra - Summary: Joel’s frustrations run deep; to him, you were a twisted source of purity; touching you forced him to think, forced him to feel. But not Ezra. With him, he could do anything. A scary yet also exhilarating feeling. Or alternatively: You wake up to Joel and Ezra having sex. | The emotions you feel while reading this are just too good for me not to share.

I Forgot About Time and Space by @psychedelic-ink >> Ezra x Fem!Reader - Summary: You cook for Ezra's guests, and seeing the sight of you being so domestic awakens something in him. | The smut in this *chef's kiss* and the plot in general. Please read this when you are alone. You'll thank me later.

*The Infinity Cube by @littlemisspascal >> Marcus Pike x Reader ft. Various Pedro Characters - Summary: When you play with a strange cube, you’re transported out of your current reality with your boyfriend Marcus into brand new ones starring alternate versions of your boyfriend who look and act entirely different every time. With each encounter, you start to wonder if you’ll ever make it back to your real universe? | Such a good use of the Multiverse and it introduced me to characters that Pedro played that I haven't yet watched. Rae does an amazing job keeping you at the edge of your seat and passing off such deep emotions. It's a must read for Pedro Pascal fans.

*Meet The Millers by @musings-of-a-rose >> Joel Miller x Benny Miller x Will Miller x f!reader - Summary: Moving into the Boston Quarantine Zone after nearly 20 years on the outside takes some adjusting. A misdirection one night guides you to the 3 men who will change the course of your life. | This series has a little bit of everything from drama to love and spiciness. There isn't much more you could ask for out of this series other than wishing for more.

When You're Reading Me by @psychedelic-ink >> Joel Miller x Reader - Summary: If you had to make a list of things Joel Miller might buy you as a gift— nipple clamps would not be a part of it. | *Internally screams* This was really hot, and I think I'll go grab a cold shower now.  

STRANGER THINGS:

The Grief of Losing Eddie Munson by @eufezco >> Steve Harrington x Reader - Summary: Best friends with Eddie Munson, the reader goes through the stages of grief of losing her best friend with her family at her side. | Someone pass me the box of tissues. This was so good. I cried through almost the whole thing.

MOODBOARDS:

My Luck by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Tommy Shelby x Reader

My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars by @zablife >> Tommy Shelby x OFC!Aurora Sabini | Lee puts together a breathtakingly beautiful moodboard for a what-if scenario in the Peaky Blinders universe. It leaves you wanting to read more and more for the couple.

Your Bread by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Alfie Solomons x Reader

Your Eyes by @forgottenpeakywriter >> Tommy Shelby x Reader

You Like That by @dearshelby >> Tommy Shelby x Reader | Tall glass of cold water to cool down, please!

@psychedelic-ink - SIL, is such an amazing writer, writing most recently for Pedro Pascal's characters and sharing her amazing works with us here. Her masterlist includes more than just Pedro's characters, having written for the MCU and Oscar Isaac, to name a couple. I love the emotions you feel through every piece of writing she puts out, and I have yet to find a piece I don't like. I think you'll find you like or perhaps love her writing just as much as I do.

@shelbydelrey - Isa is a Peaky Blinder writer whose work I enjoy reading and love seeing the moodboards she puts out as well. I would definitely give Isa a follow because she brings positivity to your dashboard with her reviews and welcoming spirit.