#alfie-av

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Just Papa Solomons Things

Visiting Scotland with your dove

TH Masterlist

Even though you don’t want to

Alfie’s not a fan of Scotland. Not because of the people or the culture.

No, it’s because everything, right, is on a fucking mountain!

Or so he claims regardless of whether you’re walking to Old Town in Edinburgh via Princes Street, going up the gentle sloping pathway on Calton Hill, are trying to hike up to King Arthur’s Seat in Holyrood Park, or are walking down (I repeat, DOWN) the Royal Mile.

And that’s only in Edinburgh.

It honestly makes you wonder why he decided to tag along, especially since you’ve also planned to explore the rugged north. Then again, you know your grumpy partner well enough to be aware that part of the reason he’s with you is to offer protection.

Truth be told, Alfie gets bloody anxious when you’re on a trip by yourself. Enough so to disregard the issues he has with his leg. Your needs come before his. That’s “non-fucking-negotiable, mate”.

Fortunately, well, for him, the amount of solo trips has drastically reduced since you started dating. He still gives you plenty of space to do things on your own, but it makes him feel better knowing he’s nearby should anything happen.

And it’s nice because now you have him to drive you around so you don’t have to make use of public transport (depends on where you two are, though), watch your luggage when going to the restroom (again, if applicable), and hold your hand as winter casts the streets in dusk as early as four in the evening.

Another added bonus is that you get to stay in the most comfortable and sometimes downright fanciest hotels. Alfie might be frugal, having been raised that way, but he doesn’t want to do you short. Plus, having the finances, he doesn’t mind occasionally splurging a little bit if it concerns spending time together.

Now, Papa Solomons hates the cold and becomes snappy when the heating isn’t on in your coach in the train to Inverness.

“‘S bad for me sciatica. Also ain’t good for your health. They better get the heating here or I’ll make them. My cane should be plenty conviction.”

When one of the staff members walks by, Alfie beckons them over. However, before he can so much as open his mouth, you place your hand on his arm.

He glances over his shoulder, rolls his eyes with an irritated sigh as you shake your head, and clears his throat to politely inquire about the state of the heating in a strained voice. “You see, mate, my wonderful missus is gettin’ cold and we can’t ‘ave that, can we? If she starts getting the heavy shakes between let’s say now and ten minutes, I’ll personally come turn the fucking system on, right. Do you understand?”

With a stammered “y-yes, sir” and frantic nod, the attendant is off.

Three minutes later, you feel the coach warming up. Alfie leans back, eyes closed, his fingers entwined with yours. “Much better. Fucking trains. Don’t like ‘em.”

You kiss his cheek. “Thank you for not using your cane.”

“Mhm, doin’ it only for you.”

And he does. Alfie tries to reign himself in whenever he’s with you, afraid of showing you the always seething rage beneath his skin, the wrath inside looking for a way out. So, while he hasn’t discussed it yet with you and remains highly skeptical about how much good it’ll do, he’s thinking about anger management therapy or taking classes in it.

If only so he won’t turn into his father.

So he can love you properly.

So he can settle with you.

Albeit perhaps not in the place he’s envisioned.

It all happens on a day trip you booked for the two of you.

Perhaps it’s the way he sees how enamoured you are by the language, the way your eyes light up when hearing about local folklore, the strange familiarity he feels when the Norse history of Skye is mentioned while you’re at his side.

Maybe it’s the glamour of the faeries.

Whatever it is, it makes him want to stay on Skye with you.

He doesn’t mention it while you’re having lunch at Relish in Portree, but Alfie can’t stop envisioning having a little bakery in a town like this. He’d leave London and Margate behind, settle here, and live out whatever days remain for him in the peace and quiet of the island.

On the long drive back, he lets you snuggle up to him for warmth and to function as your pillow. He only wakes you up once when you stop in Broadford for refreshments, gently forcing you to get out of the van and accompany him to the Co-Op to get a semi-decent dinner and snacks.

It’s safe to say, for its rarely any different, Alfie pays for everything. “‘S what I’m supposed to do, innit? Good men take care of their wi- women.”

Despite his stoic expression and casual tone, meant to dismiss the slip of the tongue, the quick glance to check your reaction is telling. He knows he fucked up, played his cards too fast, too rashly.

You catch it, but decide to willfully ignore it. Instead, you take a sip of coffee. “Let’s go back to the bus.”

Nevertheless, once you’re back at the hotel, he goes nearly feral. It’s similar to what overtakes him every summer, but now it’s driven by the desire to claim your unbearable cuteness, completely under the spell of the magic that seems to surround you, lingering.

There’s a precarious balance when it comes to how vocal Alfie is in bed. Some days he’ll guide you to your orgasm without a single silence, each word pointed and full of purpose. Other days, the only thing he can do is growl and grunt, lost in the pleasure you grant him and vice versa, but also in the way his brain is finally off. No schemes, no secrets nor hidden motifs. Only the simple act of fucking.

Nonetheless, this is perhaps one of the few times you’ve heard him beg. Desperate and blunt, no polish to his utterances yet crystal clear diamonds compared to the muttering meant to confuse.

“Marry me, eh? Let’s, fuck, hm, yeah settle,” he murmurs in between kisses, which grow sloppier as his thrusts get more and more erratic. “Settle with me. Be Mrs Solomons. Want, hrm, need my wife. Only you. Want. Want you. Only you.” He pulls your hair so you’ll bare your neck to him. Lovingly he bites the skin, the sting and burning warmth heated by the words spilling from his lips. “Please, dove, please. Marry me.”

He doesn’t need a spoken answer, just the mere fantasy you say ‘yes’ and the way you look when he’s inside you, especially as you come undone because of him, is enough to send him over the edge with you.

As you’re basking in the afterglow, Alfie caresses your arm. His fingers slowly slide over your skin, lost in thought, wandering in the chaos reigning in his head until he’s found the words to start the conversation. Or, rather, to tell you what’s been on his mind since the afternoon, the wee bakery on Skye.

There are no words for the bleakness washing over him as you frown, taken completely unawares by his attitude. It’s unlike him to be this spontaneous, without a plan. “Alfie, don’t be rash. It doesn’t suit you. Come up with a business plan first. Is it viable? Would we manage to get by? It won’t be like London.”

“I know, but…” he groans, reluctant to admit he’s in the wrong, “you’re right, dove. Silly, ain’t ‘e, this old man and ‘is fantasies.”

“You’re not old.”

“Older than you. Old enough to be-“

You shut him up with a kiss. “No, none of this. I love you for who you are. I’m proud to be Papa’s little dove.”

“Would you one day be ‘is wife?”

You furrow your brow, wondering where this is coming from. That is, until you recall his pleading in his sex drunk stupour. “You meant that?”

He nods. “Mhm. Maybe not the proper way to ask, but I mean it. This, ‘ere, right, between us, I want it to be long term.” Voice lowered and steady blue eyes filling with the fight between panic, disbelief, and determination, he asks the question that makes him grow pale. “It is, innit?”

“It is, don’t worry.”

He cups your cheek and pulls you towards him to rest his forehead against yours. A tapered breath escapes him, shivery and frail. “Stay with me.”

You run your fingers through his beard, a burden falling off of your shoulders as you see him relax. Though you appreciate Alfie’s occasional openness, when he shows his struggles you can’t help but feel your own heart crack.

Then again, that’s Love.

For whatever our souls are made of, if we’re lucky, we find one that’s compatible. That’s the same.

“I won’t go anywhere without telling you.”

“Don’t go at all without me.”

You feel something wet warm your hand as you kiss his forehead. The sensation moves to your chest when Alfie rests his head on it. His arms wrapped around your waist in a fierce bear hug, you run your fingers through his hair, weaving them through his messy brown locks.

Alfie rarely if ever allows himself to show his vulnerabilities. Nevertheless, when he’s around you and alone like this, he does. And it still stuns him you stay at his side, that you haven’t run from, in his words, “tainted bein’, uglier than a golem”.

But how could you? How could you leave a man as doting and loving as him? Sure, Alfie’s gruff and a little rough-handed at times, even to you, but you know he tries not to be.

Sleet gently ticks against the window, filling the silence in the hotel room. As per usual on nights like this, you use it to calm the both of you down.

Until your skin is tear-stained.

Both your hearts cracked a little more.

And Alfie’s asleep.

Tag list: @potter-solomons @zablife @vir-tual @hecatemoon87 @dreamlandcreations @liliac-dreamer @rose-like-the-phoenix @hoodeddreams13 @buttercupsandboys @solomons-finest-rum @wandawiccan60 @mollybegger-blog @babaohhhriley

[kvetchlandia]

Uncredited Photographer     Burt Bacharach     1970

"I made her do about 32 takes, then George Martin said to me, ‘I think we had it on take four, Burt.’" Burt Bacharach, talking about Cilla Black recording his and Hal David’s "Alfie" at Abbey Road studio, London,  in 1965

Burt Bacharach  -  1928-2023  -  Ave atque Vale

[thomasshelbydrabbles]

The Spy (7/?)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Adeline Taylor (OC)

Warnings: period typical sexism, series typical violence, period typical views of PTSD, period typical racism, blood and gore, angst, sexual situations, infertility, loss of child

Summary: Adeline has a long needed conversation with an old friend, and she learns more about what happened in Birmingham during her time away.

**Note: This is a series, so you should read The School Teacher and The Messenger first if you want to understand everything.**

Word Count: 2638

Author’s Note: Oof, this one was emotional, but I kinda love it. Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

Birmingham, 1924

“So this, right, this is Birmingham. Definitely not kosher, no. Not that a fuckin’ goya like you would care ‘bout that, no.” 

His wasn’t the voice she’d expected to find her, but she shouldn’t have been surprised to hear it. A smile tugged at her lips. She’d come out to the schoolhouse to clear her head. Finding a dress had been simple because for all that nothing remained the same, she still knew what would make her look nearly irresistible to Tommy. Even as the thought of him choosing to ignore her in spite of the dress sent a sharp pain through her chest, she welcomed the distraction. Anything to get away from Sidney and his plans for the Shelby Foundation dinner tonight. 

“They named a foundation after me. Gonna help fund this school. Seems a bit like I’ve died before my time.” Adeline paused, turned to face Alfie. “Again.” 

“You have a habit, right, a bad habit of dyin’ before it’s time to do such things. Always getting things out of order you are.” 

“I didn’t die.” 

“Didn’t you?” Alfie asked, head tilted as though pondering it. “They feared you might have died. Died, that day at the Darby, or in the days after. What they don’t realize yet, these Shelby’s of yours, is that you did. Die.” Alfie paused. “Again.” 

“Momento Mori.” 

“Bloody hell.” 

Her eyes snapped up to him at the utter disappointment coloring the words. The deep set frown on his lips, the pinched look around his eyes, the way his fingers rubbed together at his sides - she’d seen him like that with fucking Ollie. Fuck. 

“It had to be done.” 

“Had to be done, right,” Alfie nodded slowly, absently. 

She hated his tone. Hated more how everything around Birmingham felt wrong, as though she didn’t belong here anymore. A thought she viciously ignored because if she didn’t belong here with Tommy, then she knew she belonged nowhere. It meant she might as well stay with Sidney because he might not care for her, but he had a use for her, and usefulness would keep her a live a bit longer…and that had to be better than dying of a broken heart.

“Of all the people in my life, Alfie, I thought you’d be the one to understand.” 

Alfie nodded again, stroked his beard. He took a step closer to her. “Understanding I ‘ave, pet. It’s not understanding that’s the trouble is it? Not the trouble with me, not the trouble with Thomas - ” he paused, nodded again. “You’re asking for absolution, for forgiveness, pet, and that, right, that is much more difficult to come by.”

Adeline choked back a sob because this was Alfie. The man she relied on to understand her circumstance, her choices.  

“752 days, pet. It’s a long time to be separated from your family.”

“I had to make sure you were safe.”

“Not your job to protect me, pet. Not from the likes of George Bergmann.” 

She wanted to snort at the derisive tone he used whenever he said George’s name. The way he elongated the vowels as though they’d caused him personal offense.   

“Goes by Sidney Reilly now,” Adeline said. “Seems you were right about him being Russian.” 

Alfie rubbed his beard again. Adeline frowned at the red irritated skin she could see. He wasn’t taking care of himself as he should. She walked to the base of the stairs leading to the schoolhouse and sat. 

“Whatever name he goes by makes no difference to me, pet. Still don’t need you protecting me from him.” 

“Wasn’t just you I was protecting that day.” 

Alfie nodded. “Yes, of course. Protected Thomas, protected all the lads there at the Darby that day. Lads who did a gorgeous, just beautiful job it was, at killing many of Campbell’s men.” 

“This was different.”

“Was it?” 

Adeline narrowed her eyes. She pushed up from her spot on the stairs and moved in on Alfie. “You know it is. This is bigger than a turf war in Birmingham or London. Campbell was just the opening for Sidney’s larger plan. It was him all along, pulling the strings, testing his plans.”

“And you played right into his hand. Like a puppet on a fuckin’ string you danced to his tune. Thought you were smarter than that.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck me?”

Adeline turned her head away.

“Why didn’t you leave him? I allowed you to go, right, nodded me fuckin’ head because I thought you’d lead him on a merry chase and kill ‘im, as is your right. Not fuckin’ allow him to take you with ‘im.”

Adeline whirled around so fast she knew her neck would be sore the next day. “Leave? You don’t think I thought about it? Every day I thought about it. How easy it would be to sneak out, to disappear in the middle of the night. To come back to London, to Birmingham, to fucking Small Heath. But what would I have come back to, Alfie, hm? Corpses? Would you have me come home to a pile of dead bodies? Sidney had, still does have, men watching the Shelby’s. Now I know he’s got the fuckin’ Economic League on side, and who knows how far that reach goes.” 

“Excuses, pet. Pathetic excuses.” 

“I didn’t expect you to hate me so much.”

“Bloody hell, pet. I don’t hate you. I’m angry, right, so angry I hardly know what to do with meself, but couldn’t hate you. Same as Thomas, the fool that he is, can’t hate you anymore than I can. But, anger? Oh, got plenty of that, deserved it is, too. Bloody foolish girl, right, runnin’ off, not coming home. Not lettin’ any of us help you. After all this time, I thought you’d trust me more than that.” 

“You sound just like Thomas,” Adeline began. “Talkin’ ‘bout trust like it’s all so simple.”

“Not simple. Not simple at all, but you make it difficult to help you when you run off and stay gone. Sending messages like it’s scraps from the table for bloody Cyril. He misses you, too. Pouts around the ‘ouse like a pathetic thing.”

“Sidney brought me to Small Heath,” Adeline said. “A couple of weeks after the Darby, after I thought about coming back. I snuck out of where he had us staying. Sidney caught up with me a couple of miles from Small Heath, and brought me the rest of the way into town. I saw Thomas.” Adeline smiled at the memory. “He walked down the street as he always had, coat billowing behind him. Sidney pointed to a rooftop on a building adjacent to where we stood. Hid himself fairly well, but I know a sharpshooter when I see one, and there one sat just waiting. Barrel of that rifle trained on Thomas. I understood Sidney’s message. How is Tommy supposed to defend himself from an attack like that, hm?” 

Alfie nodded. “You know, I’ve often wondered what it would take to break you. One of the most stubborn women I’ve ever met. Strongest, too. Very strong. Strong of will, of mind - not allowing anyone, anything to break her. Now, George - er, Sidney, what a fucking stupid name, if you let him, pet, he will break you. Not a shattering, not an honorable death. No. He’ll take a small piece of you at a time. So small right, that you won’t even notice it until he’s taken so many small pieces that you’re not you anymore. Right, and he’ll take those stolen pieces of you and reassemble them for you, present it as a gift he will, a fucking present for you. And you’ll take it because you won’t know to know anymore. He’ll have made you stupid. Deadly, but stupid. I fear, pet, he may have already started.” 

Adeline stared at Alfie. She could hear the blood roaring through her veins, felt hear heart beating fiercely in her breast. How much of her had Sidney already taken? Was she already lost? She feared she might be. 

“About that day,” Alfie began as though it were an afterthought. “That day Sidney brought you to Small Heath, put on a show for you, right, a bloody show. You didn’t look closely enough, not closely enough at all. Taught you better than that, but Sidney has this power over you, pet, don’t like it, not at all because had you been lookin’, you’d’ve seen on the opposite rooftop another man with a rifle aimed at the sniper you focused all of your energy on.”

“What?” 

Her voice sounded distant, as though through a tunnel. Her eyes dimmed a bit at the edges, her body swayed. Alfie caught her as her knees gave out and together they crumpled to the ground with enough force to push the air from her lungs. White noise echoed through her mind. 

“You - ”

“Faith, pet. Godless thing you are, but have some faith in me, right? I’d not let the one man, the only man, who brings the most brilliant smile to your face, right, the happiest I’ve ever seen you is when you’re with Thomas Shelby, and I’d not let the likes of Sidney Reilly take that from you so easily.”

“You saw me with him that day?”

Alfie pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Adeline allowed the tears she’d been holding since she’d come back to Birmingham trail down her face. How had she allowed this to happen? Would it have been as simple as leaving, as coming home and allowing the danger to follow her? What an embarrassment she was. Missing the signs that Alfie’d been there, just over her shoulder. She thought back to when Michael and Isaiah had shown up, how it was a friend of Alfie who offered them a safe place to meet. Did she really doubt the powerful men in her life so much? How could fear take control of her so easily?

“You must walk your own path. Don’t like it, and I think you made a damn foolish choice, but some lessons are meant to be learned the hard way. Stubborn, godless, girl that you are. Foolish, too. I’ve known where you were each day since you’ve been gone. Seemed like you had something to prove to yourself during your time with Sidney, but be careful, pet. He’s got himself nestled in your head, right, like poison. Always has. Never ‘ave figured out how he managed it with you. You’re not the same wide-eyed girl you were when the war began, when Sidney first inserted himself into your life, so don’t act as though you are still that girl.” 

Immediately, an argument sprang to her tongue, but she bit it back because she knew Alfie to be correct in his assessment of things. Damn him. He always knew. Knew her. Knew the people around her. Sidney had been in her head for so long that he’d slithered down into her heart. The realization gave her no peace, brought more tears because she didn’t know how to remove him from the small dark corner he’d created for himself. Love, hate - they swirled in an indistinguishable mess in her mind, in her heart. 

“I never should have come to Birmingham.”

“Bullshit.” 

“Alfie - ”

“I know what has been taken from you,” Alfie’s voice was thick, as though the words brought physical pain to him. “I know. And when Sidney leaves this Earth, he will languish forever in the deepest pit of Hell forever, right? Until then, it is our job, our duty to see him suffer as much as we can for the limited time remaining to him. In order, yes, in order for him to suffer as severely as he must, you need to allow me, allow Thomas to assist you in creating such misery for him that he forever regrets the choices he made.” 

Adeline looked away. 

“If you intend to continue being a part of Thomas’ family, as you had before, as Mrs. Thomas Shelby, then this duty of yours, this duty to see Sidney Reilly as persecuted as a man can be while he crawls upon the Earth like a slug, then you owe the truth of it all to Thomas, to your future husband.” 

“He can never know!” 

Alfie growled as his eyes narrowed. “And where have your secrets landed you, hm? Have they served you yet, pet?”

“This is nothing like that. You claim you know, and you know better than most others would, but it’s not something you could possibly understand, Alfie. The shame of knowing I’ll never bear children, never feel life grow in my womb, never be the mother to the children of the man I love. Tommy deserves a…whole woman. One who can provide him heirs.” 

“Did Thomas Shelby become the bloody King in the two years you’ve been gone, pet? Heirs? Do you listen to the nonsense you speak to me? Bloody heirs.” 

Alfie turned to face her, took her chin in his hand. “If I ever hear you say such things about yourself, lies about not being a bloody whole woman, I’ll take you over me knee. Any any, yeah, any fucking foolish man who dares say you’re anything less because of circumstances, right, circumstances a lesser woman would have died from I’ll kill ‘em with me bare hands. Hell pet, li’l Ollie could kill the man who would say anything so stupid about you.”

Adeline laughed at the thought of Ollie killing someone, the sound startled her enough to pull a genuine smile to her face. Alfie always made things sound simple, easy. 

“‘Course it’s easy, pet,” Alfie said, proving once again that he probably did read her mind. “Trust Thomas. He’s earned at least that from you after all of this, yeah? Any man willing to march into Churchill’s office and demand assistance locating his missing fiancée like he did, right, deserves the truth from you because he loves you to the point of madness. When he’s done punishing you because of his anger, he’ll go back to lovin’ you so much it makes the rest of us uncomfortable because we know any love we have won’t be so powerful as his. Make jealous fools of us all he does when he’s ‘round you.” 

“You sound sure he loves me as he did before.” 

Alfie snorted as he used his cane to stand to his feet. “‘Course I’m sure. Tonight at this party of his, right, he’ll see you in your dress. See the way Sidney pretends you belong to him, yeah, he’ll watch the way Sidney parades around with you on his arm even though you’ve still got another man’s ring on your finger and Thomas Shelby will not tolerate it, no. His jealousy will overcome his anger at you, and well, jealous men are dangerous beasts, are they not? Thomas will do something foolish, you’ll scold him for it, and then do unmentionable things to each other that I never want to hear a single word about, understand? Not a single word.”

Adeline laughed at the rather traumatized look on Alfie’s face. She could very well understand his position because if he had a woman in his life, she’d want him happy, but she’d also want no details about their bedroom dalliances. She stood, watched the way the streetlamp cast shadows along his cheek. 

“I hope you’re right, Alfie.”

“Hope? Hope is for children, like wishes, yeah, useless things, fickle, right, but you listen closely to me, right, listen because I’ll not be repeating myself. I’ve not been wrong ‘bout Thomas Shelby, not once since you brought him into my life, allowed him into yours. I’m not about to start being wrong ‘bout him now.”

Adeline pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Alfie.”

Master List

Tag List: @stevie75 @muhahaha303  @highgardenrosexx​ @dolllol2405 @allie131313 @mootiemoose

[aliypop]

A Little Friendly Advice

Word Count:

Warning: Show violence and language Suggestive themes,

Writers Note: This is my first time writing Alfie so I hope I did okay getting him down pack

Pairing: OC x Canon

( Eleanor Williams ) / Alfie Solomons (Platonically )

Plot: When Eleanor Williams decides to have tea with Alfie Solomons in Camden Town over a business proposal Alfie realizes she came for advice rather than business

Taglist:

@shelbydelrey

@runnning-outof-time

@herosneednotapply

"So you came to boast to me about raisin fuckin whiskey prices of me heh…" Alfie said, sipping Earl Grey tea from his cup, "It's not that I'm raising them-" "Don't give me the King's fuckin English, Nora. You know it pisses me off…" he responded as Eleanor sighed. She was always the one to be sent to Camden Town to talk to Alfie, yet for once, she didn't hate it, "I ain't raisin any fuckin prices of a ya Alf, just 'ear me out would you," batting her beady little hazel eyes, "Fine, but if I don't like it, pray that God does… You know I'm a religious man, so if God don't like it I-" "I just want you to raise the prices a little on The Shelby Limited accounts, is all." "First off, you fucking cut me off, so that was rude. Two, do you want Tommy Shelby, me best mate, to kill me," Alfie leaned in, that annoying gleam in his eyes that she hated so much from him, "Oh, you should get better friends…" she laughed, "And, no, I just want to kinda…" "Use your words, Williams…" "I just want to get him to trust me…" she mumbled as Alfie laughed, not at her but in disbelief, thinking that she could get a horse-like man like Tommy Shelby to trust her, "Lead 'em in with Cigarettes Whiskey then, dear," adding more sugar to his cup, "But whatever you do, don't trust em…" "That's what he said about you…" "And you didn't fuckin listen to 'im," "Why would I listen to the two-timing beautiful blue-eyed 'andsome devil of Small "eath who I'd give anything to be pushed up against a wall and kissed by-" "Bloody hell Eleanor if your skin wasn't already fuckin red, you'd be a freshly boiled lobster," Alfie said, nearly spitting out his tea, her tawny-colored skin blistering with the sensation of embarrassment, "I'm just trying to partner up with The Shelby Company…" she groaned as Alfie stared at her, "Either I'm going fuckin deaf, or I'm hearin you got a thing for Tommy?" "Me? 'ave a thin for Tommy Shelby, please." rolling her eyes as he took her tea cup from her, "Nora, God don't like liars, an besides, you can do so much better with any other bloke that ain't Thomas fuckin Shelby…" "But have you ever seen him…" she bit her lip, Alfie taking in the show before him, finding the situation humourous, "He's just so…" "Rotten?" "Seductive…" "Eh, he's a dog." "He's handsome." "Ever looked at Arthur. Now that's handsome…" "He's wise," "About fuckin horses…" "Alfie!" "Listen, Nora. I don't know what the hell it is you see in him, but A little friendly advice." "Yes,"

"Hope I'm not late, Solomons…" "Be careful…" he whispered as Eleanor looked up at Thomas. Alfie saw the sparks between them fly faster than a bomb during the war, "Ms. Williams…" "Mr. Shelby…" she walked towards him, "Still on for our meeting later?" "Of course…" he eyed her up and down as she walked out the door. Alfie was impressed. "I assume you two are gonna fuck." "How long did it take you to come up with that one, Alfie…" "Not long at all…" he laughed, "Not long at all…"

[annasinterests]

🎶✨when u get this, list 5 songs u like to listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favorite followers (positivity is cool)🎶✨ 🫶

omg hello i've been so MIA but thank you for sending me this lovie!!!

these have been in my rotation lately:

reflections - the neighbourhood

stop thinking (about me) - alfie templeman

knee socks - arctic monkeys

iii telegraph ave. ("oakland" by lloyd) - childish gambino

sister golden hair - america

[baelerionn]

Personnages principaux

Numéro 1: Killian Grimsbane • La mystérieuse et prestigieuse famille Grimsbane pouvait provoquer chez n'importe qui son sang se glacer, ou sa gorge s'assécher. Depuis bien longtemps, le nom Grimsbane était murmuré, mais ce n'était que depuis le grand-père, Draigh,mariant Ellenwell, une jeune sang-pure française, que cette famille a été propulsée dans les "hauts" de la société. La deuxième génération avait suivie, dans un calme relatif, huit enfants, il fallait bien gérer ça comme le paternel pouvait. Et puis le drame, la disparition mystérieuse de sa chère et tendre au fond du lac, la seule qui arrvait avec sa douceur et sa lumière à canaliser Draigh, et sa noirceur ressortit. Et puis, la troisième génération commença à arriver, et la réelle rébellion interne grondait de plus en plus, alors qu'ils étaient saêns arrt sous les feux des projecteurs. Killian est le petit-fils de Draigh, il a un frère, Tiordan, et un nombre conséquent de cousin.e.s. Killian brûle et se consume, sa colère est presque héréditaire, et il devient incontrolâble. Il idolâtrait son grand-père, jusqu'à le détester en apprenant ne serait-ce qu'un morceau de sa vérité. Et puis, sa tante disparu dans les mêmes conditions que sa grand-mère, et tous les Grimsbane disparurent pendant quelques temps, tous restant dans le manoir familial, vide et froid. Jusqu'au jour où Killian revint, avec ces cousins, sans son frère, sans une tante, ni deux de ses cousins. Les Grimsbane venaient d'assister à la noirceaur du grand-père, jamais connu des petits-enfants. Le feu qu'était Killian était un homme rangé, devenant Auror, sérieux, presque trop, suivant le pas déterminé de son grand-père. univers Harry Potter, toutes générations confondues

Numéro 2: Aurora Shipman • Une enfance paisible, un beau jardin, des parents aimants, un labrador beige et une clôture blanche; tout devait bien se passer, tout allait bien se passer. Une adolescence désastreuse, non, cauchemardesque, enfermée dans un sous-sol/laboratoire miteux et hanté par les jeunes âmes innocentes sacrifiées dans ces lieux. Des parents parfaitement sanguinaires, une vie bâclée, traumatisante, des années dans un film d'horreur sans fin. Aurora Shipman voudrait se souvenir de ses jours d'été à courir avec son chiot dans le jardin, mais elle n'a que des sombres souvenirs, des cris, des pleurs, une douleur insurmontable, des odeurs de petits cadavres en décomposition et de fer, de sang. Elle n'avait pas été la première victime de ses parents, mais bien celle qui a survécu le plus longtemps. Une question d'égo, peut-être, de la part de ses géniteurs. Elle est sauvée après trois ans dans l'horreur, un jour d'été, lui aussi. Après de longs mois internée dans un hôpital psychiatrique, le procès à huis clos, elle est sous la protection des témoins, aves les sept autres survivants. Tout le monde la connaissait à présent sous le nom d'Alice Verona, une jeune femme qui rentre dans les rangs policiers, accrochée à son travail comme seule stabilité dans sa vie, son corps recouvert de cicatrices. Les nuits sont courtes, hantées par son propre sang, au sens propre comme au sens figuré. univers réels, particulièrement policiers

Numéro 3: Alfred O'Larcan • Qui ne voudrait pas de la vie d'Alfred O'Larcan ? Être né dans une cuillère en or dans la bouche n'a pas de prix, sans mauvais jeux de mots. L'argent ne fait pas le bonheur, mais l'argent aide grandement dans la vie, mais la famille O'Larcan avait bien plus que de l'argent, le nom résonnait déjà haut, et avec ce nom, était lié le prestige. Le prestige de cette grande marque de vêtements, digne d'Yves Saint-Laurent ou de Chanel; les O'Larcan étaient tous des politiques, des docteurs, des avocats, des juges ou même simplement de grands PDG de l'entreprise internationale aux quatre coins du monde. Le futur du petit Alfred était donc bien tracé dès qu'il fût de ce monde. Mais Alfie ne voulait pas de cette route, il voulait emprunter les chemins boueux, explorer tous les chemins sinueux, patauger dans les petits ruisseaux, sentir le sable chaud sur ses pieds nus et se laisser porter par les brises d'automnes. Tout le monde veut sa vie, sauf lui. Etait-ce égoïste ? Peut-être, mais Alfie, sa guitare sur le dos, ou au volant de son van retapé par un ami, voyage, découvre, vit, pleinement. Certes, ses vêtements sont dépareillés, ses repas ne sont pas dignes d'un restaurant étoilé ou sa literie n'est peut-être pas la plus confortable, mais Alfie demeure Alfie dans ses chaussettes trouées, ses raviolis en boîte et son matelas posé sur une planche de bois à l'arrière de son véhicule. Il parle plus qu'il ne pense, il n'est pas une âme aimée de tous, mais appréciée de peu, et eux, sont les plus importantes. univers réels, ou thrillers

Numéro 4: Eden Masurka • Aïe, un bras cassé, une côte fêlée, une coupure à cause d'une feuille en papier, une brûlure à l'huile ou à cause d'une eau bouillante, un accident de voiture, un fracture ouverte, une gifle après une remarque désobligeante, des doigts coincés dans une porte, des orties touchant des mollets, ouille. Le corps est touché, cassé, fissuré, abimé, mais celui à qu'il appartient, le petit Eden, lui, ne ressent rien. L'insensibilité congénitale à la douleur, ou ICD, est très dangereuse en particulier pour la personne elle-même. Certes, Eden a quelques alertes sur sa peau, ses bras surtout, recouverts de brûlures, voulues ou non; les bouts de ses index et ses pouces n'ont plus de terminaisons nerveuses, tellement il se coupe lorsque par après il a besoin de ses mains pour son futur travail, fleuriste. Néanmoins, son passé le hante, ce geste qui se voulait bienveillant, s'est transformé en acte donnant la mort à une jeune étudiante. Etant jugé non capable de pouvoir décerner sa force ni le mal causé après son geste, après sa peine purgée dans un institut spécialisé, Eden quitte son Australie natale pour l'ouvrir, ce magasin de fleurs et de plantes. Il rêve secrètement, derrière sa façade bourru et solitaire, de partager sa vie avec quelqu'un, n'importe qui, qui pourrait l'accepter, mais Eden a peur. Il a peur de blesser, de casser une bras, de fêler une côte, de couper, de brûler, de créer un accident, de fracturer, de gifler, de coincer des doigts dans une porte, de tuer, à nouveau. univers réels

Numéro 5: Alexandria Harthorne • Elle ne voyait que du sang, elle n'entendait que des gémissements, et sa respiration, haletante. Soudain, les trois derniers canons venaient de retentir. Voici mesdames et messieurs, la grande gagnante des 69e Jeux de la Faim, comme ses parents et ses grands-parents avant elle, Alexandria Hardthorne. La gagnante ? La traitresse, plutôt. Tuer son fiancé ainsi que les petits alliés de celui-ci afin de porter la couronne de la victoire. Tous, la détestait, mais Alexandria savait, elle connaissait les envers du décor, elle connaissait ce que les gagnant devaient offrir à Panem. Personne n'allait la comprendre, personne ne pouvait la comprendre, mais alors qu'elle sortait de l'arène, son couteau toujours fermement dans sa main, le sang de son amour coulant de celui-ci, mais Cassius, et les autres, ils sont morts en martyrs, ils sont morts en héro. Cette mort est une délivrance, un sauvetage. Alexandria les avait sauvés; et elle étêait prte à en subir les conséquences, prête à asumer le regard, la haine et l'incompréhension de son disctrict. Puis, tous l'oubliaient, alors qu'elle reste seule dans une cabane en bois, jusqu'au jour de 74e Jeux, de la victoire de Katniss et Peeta, puis de l'Expiation…et sa famille n'était plus prête à se laisser faire, pas quand tous commençaient à se rebeller contre le Capitol. univers the Hunger Games

Numéro 4: Rhaenys Targaryen-Martell • Le seul souvenir présent dans ma tête, de ma chère mère était ses cris, ses hurlements de douleurs alors qu'elle se faisait violée, torturée et tuée par la Montagne. Le seul souvenir de mon petit frère, qui commençait à peine à parler et à faire de belles phrases, était ses sanglots, sa tête toute chiffonnée, rouge, ses yeux clos, alors qu'il ne comprenait certainement pas ce qu'il se passait. Je ne le comprenais pas vraiment non plus, j'étais trop jeune, trop pure, trop innocente. Elia Martell, tuée en martyr, juste parce qu'elle avait mariée un Targaryen au mauvais moment. Aegon Targaryen, exécuté pour sa chevelure argentée et ses yeux violets, pendant la rébellion. Pourquoi voudrais-je me battre à vos côtés, alors que vos lignées respectives ont exécuté ma famille. Tyrion et Jamie Lannister, votre nom a tué mon grand-père, et les murmures du lion étaient à la tête de l'exécution de ma mère et mon tendre frère. La fratrie Stark; l'honorable famille Stark dont la tante n'a pas eu meilleure comme idée de s'enfuir avec un père, un prince. Daenerys Targaryen, ton frère n'a pas protégé sa famille, a préféré pensé à la passion plutôt qu'à l'honneur, et son devoir. Sans penser aux conséquences, personne n'y a pensé. Me voici, voilà la conséquence. Les premiers mots de Rhaenys Targaryen-Martell, en tant qu'elle-même, pas une énième couverture, dans la salle du trône à Winterfell. univers fantasy, Game of Thrones/ASoIaF

[liketrojor]

Erling Haaland vinner sin första Premier League-titel i karriären

Chelsea-spelare ställde upp för att applådera när de såg den titelvinnande ceremonin som hölls av rivalen Manchester City. Bara Manchester City och fansen var glada på platsen, och den blå billiga fotbollströjor representerade lycka. Erling Haaland är stolt över att vara en del av laget, som tar sin första Premier League-titel i karriären.

Valet av proffsspelare är mycket viktigt, och slutet av den här säsongen har lyft fram många problem. Erling Haalands flytt till Manchester City var helt klart rätt, inte bara har han vunnit Premier League-titeln den här säsongen, han kommer även att tilldelas Premier Leagues guldstövel. Erling Haalands tidigare lag, Borussia Dortmund, förlitade sig på spelarövergångar för att driva klubben. Alltför många spelare hade inte tur i sina karriärer efter övergångar. Erling Haalands tidigare lagkamrat Jadon Sancho flyttade till Manchester United, och hans insats i laget fick inte mycket uppmärksamhet från fansen. Även om Jadon Sancho spelade tillsammans med Erling Haalands idol Cristiano Ronaldo tidigare den här säsongen, så är han ingen starter som huvudtränaren kommer att använda. Efter att Erling Haaland misslyckades med att gå över till Real Madrid valde han slutligen att gå över till Manchester City. Han träffade Pep Guardiola, den bästa huvudtränaren i fotboll, och han och hans lagkamrater firade att vinna Premier League-mästerskapet vid prisutdelningen.

Manchester City tröjor är redan en symbol för Premier League-mästerskapet, och laget har vunnit tre ligatitlar i rad. Även om Manchester City hade många spelare ledigt förra året så hade spelaravgången ingen större inverkan på laget. Chelseas Raheem Sterling kunde bara ställa upp för att se sin tidigare lagkamrat lyfta Premier League-trofén igen, och Enzo Fernández stod i kö för att se Argentinas fotbollslandslagskamrat Julián Álvarez vinna Premier League-titeln. Erling Haaland njöt av fansens applåder och jubel vid mästerskapsceremonin och han delade också glädjen över att vinna mästerskapet med sin pappa Alfie Håland.

https://www.bloglovin.com/@liketrojor

http://liketrojor.blogaholic.se/

[photofabulicious]

✈️Har varit väldigt nära på att beställa en resa i helgen, men det får bli något nästa vecka… Vet inte vart men någonstans blir det. Förresten fick jag höra att Robert Pattinson flög på samma plan som mig hem från JFK. Själv såg jag honom inte, men hade gärna gjort det. Han är en av mina absoluta favoritskådisar tillsammans med Edward Norton. . 🗓️Ska hämta utrustning för sömnutredning idag. Ska bli skönt att få det här gjort. Tog bara en halv livstid. Haha. På fredag ska jag äta middag med brorsan. Ska bli kul. Det var väldigt länge sedan vi sågs sist. På söndag är det middag med gänget. Har ju inte sett någon där heller på typ en månad. . 🛋️Har legat i soffan sedan jag kom hem från Mexiko. Well, har lämnat soffan för über eats och toan. Mest beror det på min infekterade tå. Nu är den snart helt bra dock. Har klämt ut var ur tån i fyra dagar typ🤢. . 😰Att läsa jobbannonser stressar mig enormt mycket och får mig att känna mig helt värdelös… Det känns som om jag inte kan någonting alls. Att jag inte har tillräckligt erfarenhet och att jag saknar talang. Vet inte varför riktigt men bra självförtroende har aldrig varit min starka sida… . 📺Att se Emily in Paris stressar mig också. Hon är så grymt smart i serien när det kommer till marknadsföring. PS. Alfie har en persikofärgad kostym i sista avsnittet som jag hade dött för! Så jävla snygg! . 👖Ser jättemycket kläder som jag vill ha. Men ingenting passar mig och min oproportionerliga kropp - för korta muskliga ben, för långa rygg, breda rumpa, platta stora huvud, tjocka mage och manboobs. Kan aldrig ha byxor med hög midja eller för tighta kläder. Fast det är nog lika bra. Har spenderat alldeles för mycket pengar på kläder de senaste åren ändå. . 📸Det här blir nog sista bilderna från Mexiko… Verkligen ett drömresemål! Så glad att jag fick kryssa för det på min bucketlista!😍🙏 ….. #islaholbox #mexico #visitmexico #beachlover #travelbug #travelblog #letsgosomewhere #exploremore #globetrotter #instagay #digitalnomad #thesecret #lawofattraction #travelgram #travelphotography #beaches #paradise #dreamer #livelovelaugh #dreambig #lifeisbeautiful #lifeisgood #explorer #adventuretime #travelislife #travelalone #peaceful (på/i Isla Holbox) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnTmzsKsnOb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[loveislandthegamefan79]

Day 2: "Guilty Secrets" Part 12

(sorry I don't have the proper background for this and I couldn't find a picture of Eddie in the wig)

The Islanders gather on the lawn, nervous and excited...There is a judge's wig and gavel on a mock courtroom judge's table...

Ariella: Oh my goodness anyone getting 2019 Season 2 vibes,When Bobby played a judge?

Dana: Omg yeah, You're right....I loved Bobby, he was hilarious...

Finn: Okay, We've all got a past now, Please no judging, Right?

Eddie sons the wig and gavel and holds a stack of cards containing 'Guilty Secrets'....

Kat: It's time to find out who we're really coupled up with, Huh Ariella!?....

Alfie: Come on then Eddie boy, let's 'ave it then...

Eddie: Oof starting strong! Which Islander once had a fling with their best friend's sister?

Dana: If there's a spark, there's a spark. Why not?

Suresh: Cos it's your best mate's sister!

Alfie: Sure you've done a lot worse, geezer....

Suresh: Nah, mate's sisters are off limits...My money's on you Alfie...

Kat: Sisters before misters, Alfie?

Alfie: Nah, not my style...

You notice Finn looks unusually sheepish...

Ariella: You're a little bit to quiet there, Finn?

Kat: Tell me you didn't?

Finn: I absolutely did...What can I say? She was a worldie...

Alfie: Never intro-ing you to my sister when we're out of here, geezer...

Kat: Spill the tea then, Finn...

Finn: We did spill the tea actually...Knocked it off the kitchen table when we got down to it...

Eddie: On the kitchen table, bro? That is hot to be fair!

Finn: I didn't plan it...My mate Jonno was having a bath after footy so I was having a wee chat with his older sister...

Alfie: You love and older woman l, don't ya?

Finn: Always: But to me age ain't nothing but a number...

Kat: I guess that's why you coupled up with Ariella...

Ariella: What's that supposed to mean? I'm only 24....Yeah I'm older than you but 2yrs younger than Finn...

Kat: I don't mean nothing by it...Just saying!

Finn: Anyway, there'd always been a cheeky spark...And before we knew it we were cracking on in the kitchen...

Ariella: While your mate was upstairs in the bath?

Finn: He was taking ages in fairness...

Dana and Alfie laugh....

Suresh: Bold move, bro!

Ariella: What did your mate say?

Finn: He never found out...

Ariella: You do know if he is watching he'll know now...

Finn: Oh, Yeah I never thought about that...Sorry Jonno, It only happened once, Please don't kill me...🫣...

Kat: Give me those cards, Eddie I want to have a go...

Kat snatches the cards the secrets cards from Eddie....

Kat: Oh my days...Who could this be? Better not be you too Finn! Ariella might rethink about who she's coupled up with...Which Islander once got a tattoo of a camel on their big toe?

Finn: This has gotta be Dana or my boy Alf!

Suresh: Alfie, seen Dana's camel toe yet?

Dana: He hasn't got close enough to me yet...

Alfie: Yeah we taking things slow...But, Yeah this one's me...Seemed funny at the time...There's not much I won't do for a dare...Got it removed of course...

Dana: Good to know Alfie...

Alfie takes the cards from Kat...

Alfie: Which Islander has a secret fetish for sex on boats?

Ariella: That's gotta be you, Alfie...You said you love having sex in weird places...

Alfie: This ain't me, people. Although I did get caught having sex on a bridge by a barge boat full of tourists one time...

Kat: Whatever floats your barge...

Alfie: Anyway, who's got a boat fetish?

Suresh gives you a cheeky grin...As of remembering something that happened with you two on a boat some time ago...

Finn: I think I remember a certain girl telling me about this on our date...Isn't that right Kat!

Kat: You know it! It weren't no boat though...More of a superyacht...

Dana: Now I'm curious....Who? Where?

Kat: Who? The captain...Where? Hot tub on the roof...

Alfie: Steamy!

Ariella: Who was piloting the ship if you were nailing the captain?

Kat: It was only a quickie...He probs had autopilot on...

Suresh takes the cards and glances at you naughtily...

Suresh: Which Islander once had to be rescued naked from a hotel rooftop?

Ariella: Why would you be on a hotel rooftop?

Suresh: I've been naked in a lot of hotels but never on a rooftop...

Dana: Hope it was somewhere exotic...Or your packages won't have been much to write home about...

Eddie: It was a warm night...

Eddie grins mischievously...

Eddie: There were six of us stuck out there...We were on a massive night out and it escalated...I heard a helicopter so I thought it'd be funny to all get naked, get on the roof and do the helicopter with our... equipment...

Kat: You mean swinging it round in a circle?

Finn: Just for the craic?

Eddie: Yeah! Total banter, until we got locked out on the roof for hours...Gave the builders renovating the roof a surprise in the morning...

Dana: Now, that's a sight that'll live on in their memory! Anyway, my turn! Which Islander once accidentally got paid for stripping? This is one million percent you, kitty Kat!

Kat: Nah it ain't...I get approached to do stripping work all the time though...

Alfie: Sorry, I'll stop asking ya now, Kat...😆😆

Everyone laughs...

Finn: You've never stripped?

Kat: I didn't say that....I just said I've never been paid to strip...

Finn: Maybe if Suresh is lucky he'll get a private dance one night?

Kat: Might tease y'all until the heartrate dance off!

Dana: Alfie! I could see you in fancy dress and someone thinking you're a stripper...

Suresh: I know this one and it's not Alfie...

Everyone looks at you...

Finn: This is you Ariella? Wish I saw that...

Suresh: It was a beautiful sight, believe me...

Eddie: I bet it was...

Alfie: Reveal the deets then?

Ariella: Well, Suresh and I were out for this big club night...He went to the bar and left me on the dances floor...And when he looked back...

Your eyes meet Suresh's and you start to laugh, which quickly turns into an uncontrollable attack of the giggles...Dana and Alfie look charmed by this side of you...

Suresh: Guess I'm finishing the story then, She was cutting shapes on a podium...The whole club was cheering her on...

Dana: Get it, girl...

Suresh: She was wearing this tight little black dress I got her for our anniversary...Looking unbelievable...Then one of her mates passed her some cash for a joke...And these boys assumed she was a stripper and started throwing notes up...

Eddie: So what did you do then, Ariella?

Ariella: I gave them a proper cheeky striptease...Yolo..

Suresh: Got us kicked out of the club...

Ariella: It was totally worth it...

Dana: Sounds like you're in for some competition in the dance off, Kat!

Kat: I love a bit of competition...But only if I win...

Ariella: Ok, My time to read one...Yes! This is a good one...Which Islander has had a foursome?

Alfie: Awesome foursome, Goals...

Kat: How many of which sex?

Ariella: It doesn't say...But I believe I know who this is...

Suresh: I got close once, but that's a story for another day...Boys, any of you?

Alfie: I wish....

Finn gives you a cheeky grin but stays quiet...

Ariella: Nothing to reveal Finn?

Finn: Let's just say I got four-tunate one night...

Kat: Tell your story then, Finn...

Finn: I've already told this story to Ariella..My old man said to never tell the same story twice...

Dana: Well, Finn wasn't the only one to score with four!

The group cheers and looks at Dana in surprise...

Kat: Total bucket list! Tell me you're gonna spill?

Dana: Two girls, Two boys...Would have invited more but we were the last four standing at the party...Except we weren't standing...

Everyone laughs...

Dana: Well, we were standing for some of it...But you don't need all the deets...

Eddie: I kind of want them...Bit of a turn on knowing you're that adventurous, Dana...

Ariella: Alright last card...

Finn: I'm all over it...

Finn takes the card and laughs in shock...

Finn: This is a biggie...Which one of you reprobates did this? Hmm...

Eddie: Get on with it, bro...

Finn: Which Islander hid a long-term relationship from a person they were flirting with? Relieved this one isn't me...

Kat: I'd bet Ariella have put you on the daybeds tonight if it had been and rethink who she's coupled up with...

Finn: This is not what you wanna hear about someone you've just coupled up with...

Kat: What if this was Ariella!?

Finn: Sorry but I don't believe she's that type of girl...She believes in loyalty...

The group looks at each other, tension hangs in the in the air...No one wants to admit it....

Ariella: Come on then, which one of you boys was it?

Dana: Who said it was one of the boy?

You catch Suresh looking at you, his trademark cockiness suddenly gone....

Finn: I see that look, Suresh! This was you wasn't it, fella?

Kat: Oh my days! Not that surprised to be honest...

Finn: Nah, I thought it was him too...

Alfie: This was when you and Ariella were together?

Suresh looks away guilty...

Eddie: Better explain yourself, bro...

Suresh: I don't need to explain myself to you, bro...

Ariella: You need to explain yourself to me and it better be a good one, you owe me that much...

Dana: Yeah, you really do need to explain...She needs a proper explanation...

Finn: We're all ears, Big fella....

Alfie: Is there anything you haven't lied about?

Suresh grits his teeth he's clearly agitated...

Ariella: If you want me ever believe anything thing you've said to me in the villa, you need to come clean 🫧🫧...

Suresh cringes as he looks deep into your eyes...

Ariella: You said it was just a one time thing! Was that another lie too?

Suresh:No, that was the truth...

Alfie: How's anyone supposed to believe that?

Suresh: I don't care what any of you think! All I care is what Ari thinks...

Ariella: You need to tell me the full story, Suresh...

Everyone stares at Suresh...

Suresh: This sounds worse than it was...So, the girl I got with that night...

Dana: You mean the one you cheated on her with?

Ariella: You mean the one I saw a picture of on your phone!

Dana: That's seriously how you found out?

Ariella: Yeah, I spotted a picture on his phone of him lying next to a girl with a turtle tattoo...

Kat: Busted!

Finn: Sounds better than Alfie's tat at least...

Suresh: The details don't matter...Let me finish...Anyway, I met her at that cocktail bar I always went to with my workmates...I always had this chat with her...You know I'm a flirt! Never planned to take it anywhere...

Ariella: But you did!

Suresh: It was banter between us for months...I got to know her pretty well...Well, we'd always have a flirt and a laugh and she just assumed l was single...

Because of how much you were flirting with her?

Suresh: You never came up at first...And then we'd been chatting for too long I couldn't bring you up..

Kat: Three easy words, babe... I've got a girlfriend....

Dana: That's four words...Five if we're counting the apostrophe...

Kat: Whatever, Dana! He didn't want to bring it up 'cos he wanted to keep that flirty tension going...

Finn: That 'something might happen one day' vibe...Done it myself to be honest...

Suresh: Finn's knows what I'm talking about...

Finn: But I know where the line is, man...

Suresh:Yeah I know, And I paid the price for crossing that line...And it was a one time thing...

Kat: How's she supposed to believe it was only once after all?

Suresh turns away from the others and looks into your eyes - sincere , passionate...

Suresh: It was only once, you've gotta believe me on that..

Ariella: I don't know Suresh, How am I supposed to know what to believe right now? This is a lot...

Suresh: I know it is...

Alfie and Dana look at you, supportive...Suresh broods intensely...

Sures: Nothing happened with her apart from that one night...Like I told you already!

Ariella: So you were saving the details to avoid hurting me...

Suresh: shifts under your levelling gaze, his jaw harding in defensiveness...

Suresh: Pretty much, yeah

Finn: Yeah right, fella..

Suresh: Like you've told the whole story about everything, Finn!...

Finn: What's that supposed to mean?

Suresh: Nothing you want to reveal about what happened on one of your dates then?

Kat looks at Finn, who seems a bit sheepish...

Finn: Nah, nothing to admit on my end....

Kat looks surprised to hear this...

Suresh: You're not as good a guy as your making out...I'm sure of that...

Finn: I'm not the one making out I'm something I'm not...

Eddie: Come on, boys...Cool, clam collected yeah?

Kat: I'm feeling cool, calm neglected...Haven't been center of attention for at least four minutes...

This breaks the tension with everyone laughing, except you and Suresh...He holds eye contact intensely...

Ariella: Would you have ever told me about this if it hadn't come out in the game?

Suresh: I know you're pretty pissed off right now, but we need to talk about this alone...

Eddie: I don't agree with what he did, but I think you should him out, Ariella...

Dana: Nah, I reckon you've heard enough from him for now...

Finn: Maybe do the right thing for once and give her some space, Suresh....

Suresh: Maybe stay out of it guys! None of you were there and you don't know how many of this went down...Ariella, Gimme a chance to explain all this... Away from this lot... There's a lot we need to say to each other!

Ariella: Fine let's get this done, we can so to the swing seat...

Suresh looks at you with fiery determination...You walk over to Finn and put your arms around him...

Ariella: I'm so sorry babe...This is not how I planned our first night in a couple to go...

Finn: Babe, it's ok I'm right here I'm not going anywhere...Go talk to Suresh see what he's gotta say and come find me afterwards....

They give each other a kiss....You and Suresh head over to the swing seat...You sit down across from him...an awkward tension and large gap between you...the other Islanders stare at you both across the garden...Kat wanders over your way...

Suresh: Wanna mind your own business?

Kat: I know you ain't talking to me like that!?...Don't get your knickers in a twist , Hun...Weren't us who did her dirty was it? I just came to see if Ariella was ok?

Ariella: Kat I'm fine really...Please just go so we can talk...

Suresh shoots Kat a side eye until Eddie comes and leads her away...

Suresh: They all seriously need to back the hell off...

Ariella: Well it's kind of affects them too...All this stuff between us is kinda ruining the villa vibe...

Suresh: Well, they didn't need to make this a big deal!

Ariella: Are you say what you did wasn't a big deal? And they are just trying to have my back Suresh...It's normal and human to care for someones well being...

Suresh: I reckon everyone here has done what I did...

Ariella: What? And you think I have?

Suresh: Your telling me you never had a flirt with someone when we were together? Never delayed mentioning me to someone who was cracking on with you?

Ariella: No Suresh, I never flirted with anyone else but YOU...I only ever had eyes for YOU...

Suresh: I suppose I believe you on that...

Ariella: I brought you up as soon as anyone started flirting with me... That's what you do when your with someone and you love them... Not carry on for months with flirting and bantering...Like you don't have a care in the world...

Suresh looks away petulantly, clearly hating being the backfoot...

Ariella: Are you just going to sit there,and sulk?

Suresh: I'm not sulking! I'm thinking...

Ariella: Think about what?

Suresh: Honestly? Despite all this noise I'm thinking about how good we were for each other....

Ariella: Are you being for real right now?

Suresh: You brought out a different side of me...A more caring and thoughtful side I didn't know I had in me...And I brought out your impulsive, wild side more than anyone else had...You know you were my first proper serious relationship...And I doubt I'll ever have a girlfriend who gets close to you!...

Ariella: Theses are all nice words and all...But if what we had was that special...Then for you to cheat and blow it all...Is that just because that's who you are?

Suresh: You know how many girls I turned down when we were together?

Ariella: Do you want a medal? You want me to thank you for only cheating on me once?

Suresh: I want you to know how much effort I went through to be a good boyfriend to you!

Ariella: You might of tried Suresh... But you failed and the fact it had to be an effort says it all...

Suresh: Everyone has to make an effort to be a good boyfriend...

Suresh: No, Suresh they don't...I mean yeah if you are trying to make her happy and all that...But to make an effort of rather to cheat or flirt with other women while in a serious relationship... Shouldn't of even been a question...And everyone isn't you ,Suresh!

Suresh: Well it wasn't all on me was it?

Ariella: What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Suresh: There is more to what happened between us...

Ariella: Like What? Please enlighten me!

Suresh: All that matters now is that we move past it...I can't undo what I did....

Ariella: So you're not gonna enlighten me, Huh? And you're not even gonna apologize?

Suresh: I'm so done with apologizing to you...I've apologized a million times to I'm done with it!

Ariella: Are you actually being serious right now? It's not done till I say it's done...But I might be open, if you apologize properly...You've not even apologized for flirting with HER for months...How am I supposed to forgive if you don't think you did anything wrong?

Suresh: I didn't say that, did I?

Ariella: Ok, apologize then!

Suresh: I'm not apologizing with this lot gawping at me!

Suresh squirms as the other Islanders all stare at you again...

Ariella: It shouldn't matter if their around or not, Suresh...Be a Man for once and own up to your shit...

Suresh: This is going round in circles...

Ariella: Are you actually for real?

Suresh: At least you've heard was I've gotta say on this...

Before the words have left your mouth, Suresh gets up and walks away...You yell at to him...

Ariella: Are y serious just gonna walk away? I guess your reaction says it all!...

With everyone staring, you storm away into the villa....You sit on your bed, your head is spinning from the revelations about Suresh's cheating...As you glance at the side of your bed and look at the spot where Finn's going to be sleeping tonight...You think to yourself..."All I want is a nice cuddle and go to sleep and forget about all the drama that is your ex...Not to long after entering the bedroom Finn comes in...

Finn: You alright Love?, Just thought I'd check in on you... Looks like you could use a hug?

Ariella: Yes I really could use on right now...I'm sorry again about tonight..Suresh has got me fumin' I'm trying to be calm but it's not easy with Suresh...He just makes me so angry 😡🤬...

Finn: Too right, anyone would've lost their chill in your position...I couldn't believe some of what I overheard from your chat with Suresh!...That man has got a lot of cheek after what he did...He should be grovelling for another shot with you!

Ariella: Grovelling isn't really his style...

Finn: Anyway, I just wanted you to know I'm here for you, Beour...

Finn holds your gaze, now more serious with passion stirring in his eyes...

Finn: I know we're just getting to know each other,but...But I hope you I'd never do anything thing like Suresh did?

Ariella: I want to tell I can trust you I really do...But I can't say if I can fully trust you yet it's still early days....And I've been burnt before...

Finn: I get that, it's only day 2...I wanted to let you know you've been on my mind a lot today...Feels like we're already on the level and the chat always flows...But I really want to see how things go with us...And I meant what I said in my speech tonight...

Ariella: I loved you're speech it was rey sweet actually...

Finn: I can't help it, that's how I see you...And I can't help wanting to kiss you right now...

Ariella: Then kiss me Finn...

As Finn looks deep into your eyes just about to kiss you, Kat enters the bedroom...

Kat: Sorry to interrupt this little private moment...But y overheard some of this cozy chat for the dressing room...Thought I'd better chip in...

Finn: Can you not? We're in the middle of something, Kat...

Kat: Don't you think Ariella: should know the truth before you try it on with her? About what happened between us on our date..

Ariella: What is she talking about Finn?

Kat:Oh, he didn't tell you? I wanted to tell you the full story earlier about what happened between us on our date...But we got interrupted with the text about the challenge...But you should hear it now...Since he in here talking some big game and making moves...

Finn: I was just in here telling her I feel and checking on her after everything that went down tonight...

Kat: Well I'm just making sure Ariella doesn't get hurt again but trusting another player...

Finn: I'm not a player!

Kat: After our date I'm not sure Hun... Especially with you coupling up with her tonight...'Cos honestly I thought it was gonna be me after the date we had...

Finn: You're just being a drama queen! Nothing major happened with us on that date...

Kat: That isn't true though is it, Finn?

Ariella: What is she talking about Finn?

Finn shifts uncomfortably and looks into your eyes...

[fallatyourfeet]

It's Bloody Three O'clock In The Mornin' - (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Word count: 1218

Warnings: Swearing. Angst for both Alfie and the reader. Stalking.

A/N: Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

It had been a very long and tiring week. Alfie wanted nothing more than to get home and collapse into his bed, but there was something that needed to be done back at the office before he could allow himself the luxury. And thank God he made his way back there.  

At first, as he made his way into the building, he thought someone had broken in, hearing the sound of rummaging papers coming from his dimly lit office. But as he silently crept down the passage, the sound of your familiar sigh travelled up to greet him. And instantly he felt himself relax... Nevertheless, why were you still at work, when everyone had left hours ago? 

Stopping in the doorway, Alfie spoke with surprise, “Y/N? What are you still doin’ ‘ere? It’s bloody three o’clock in the mornin’? Instantly, regret washed over him when the sound of his voice had you jumping ten feet in the air, your hands releasing a stack of papers in a shower across the floor. Now normally, he would have teased your flightiness, but something in your manner seemed on edge and anxious... and rather uncharacteristically, it had the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Because if you willingly chose to spend the loneliest hours of the night, alone, in the dark shadowy office of a notorious gangster, something must be very wrong. 

Spinning on your toes, your eyes washed with relief at the sight of his familiar face, and Alfie couldn’t deny the spark of joy it brought to his heart; you were happy to see him. But the fleeting moment of fear he saw before your relief arrived, twisted like a knife in a wound. And he needed to know... what, or more importantly, who, was responsible for bringing such a look of fear to your lovely E/C eyes? 

Moving to your side, he wrapped a hand around your elbow, stopping you from kneeling down to gather the papers. You were trembling, and it made him anxious in the most instinctive way. Guiding you upright, he tried to catch your gaze, but your eyes flittered around the floor as your lips formed an incoherent apology. Alfie usually restrained himself from physically touching you, not that he didn’t want to, truth be told, it was something he had wanted for quite some time. But what he really needed right now, was to see your eyes. With a soft touch he caught your chin between his fingertips and moved your gaze to his, asking again, “Y/N, what are you still doin’ ‘ere at this hour?” 

He felt pressure on his hand as you tried to lower your head, but his fingertips gently declined you the opportunity to avert your eyes as he waited patiently for your answer. Breathing deeply, you nibbled nervously on your bottom lip, the same look of fear creeping back like a shadow across your face... and he knew then, you were in serious danger. Moving his own head to follow your reluctant gaze, he prompted again, “What’s wrong, Y/N?” 

Shaking your head gently, you blinked long and heavy trying to avoid the intense look in his eyes, and it was clear to him that you were about to lie, “Nothing, Mr. Solomons... there’s just a bit of work I need to catch up with.” 

Letting go of your chin, his hands went to his hips. “Mr. Solomons...? It’s been a fuckin’ long time since you ‘ave called me that... and we both know you never fall behind... So why don’t ya stop with the shit and just tell me what’s going on.” 

A moment of defeat crept upon your voice, and yet, you persisted, “It’s nothing, Alfie... I, I don’t want to bother you... You have enough going on.” 

If Alfie wasn’t so concerned, he would have laughed, nothing you could ever want or need would ever be a bother to him. Making a tsking sound, he spoke, “The only thing botherin’ me is not knowin’ what has you so fuckin’ terrified, yeah?” Alfie’s fingers twitched at his hip, resisting the urge to brush a stray lock of hair back to where it had escaped from behind your ear, “Now tell me... Why are you still here at three o’clock in the mornin? You should be tucked up in bed.” 

Another deep breath passed through your chest, your expression now completely resigned in defeat, your words filling his veins with a burning pulsing rage, “There’s a man... he, he’s always there... at my house.” Alfie’s whole body grew rigid, but he silently gestured for you to continue. “At first, I thought I was imagining it, he would always stand in the shadows in the lane across the street. But... every night he moves a little closer.”  

Almost growling through clenched teeth, Alfie asked, “Who is this bastard?”  

You shook your head, your sweet voice beginning to shake, “I, I don’t know him... every night he’s there. I see him from my window... I lay awake, list... listening for every noise, waiting for him to kick down my door.” Through his building rage he noticed the darkness tarnishing the valleys beneath your beautiful eyes, stark evidence of your sleepless nights; how had he not noticed it sooner.  

For a moment you were silent, your hesitance to continue was evident as you nibbled at your bottom lip, yet, you took another deep breath to steady yourself and continued. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to him, “I was so relieved when I got home last night... I couldn’t see him anywhere, but I... I found this pushed under my door.”  

Unfolding the paper, he read the message scribbled across it, his fingers holding it taught in his grip, almost tearing it at the edges.  

I have been watching for a long time Much longer than you know Even when you can’t see me, I am here, watching and waiting  

Crushing the message in his fist, he threw it to the ground, barely aware of the guttural sound escaping his throat, his head too heavy with rage to notice. Was this man an imbecile? Too stupid to realise who you worked for, and too unfortunate to know how much you meant to him? Well, soon this misunderstanding would be rectified. And not only this monster of a man, but everyone... would understand the risk they took if they decided they wanted to mess with you.  

Moving his hand up along your arm, he slipped it to the nape of your neck, pulling you into his arms. And even in his anger, the feeling of your hair within his palm and the beat of your heart against his chest satisfied a long-awaited yearning. Biting down his rage... just for you, he relaxed his rigid form, desperately wanting to comfort your trembling body... to make you feel safe... to feel protected. 

Then resting his temple to the side of your head, he spoke, his words harsh and threatening, but his voice, somehow gentle and comforting against your ear. “Nobody is ever gonna hurt you while I’m fuckin’ breathin’... Now tell me how to get into your place without being seen...? Cause you’re gonna show me exactly who this fucker is, yeah?” 

[tomhardyspinkyfinger]

Work Place Romance

Summary: Y/N is Alfie Solomons secretary, she knows his entire schedule and everything about him. How is she not supposed to fall in love?

Warnings: Language, minor sexual themes

Request: an alfie solomons and reader where shes his secretary or sumn and she brings him food everyday(bcs hes always so busy to eat) and everyone asks her wgy she does it and goes through extra work and she says its bcs she likes him? and he overhears it?

A/N: hey y'all! Sorry I'm still updating so slow. I think for a while I'm going to attempt drabbles and shorts so I can still write for you guys but just not very long. I hope you enjoy this @acupnoodle !

Masterlist

The bakery was bustling with life all day today. The men knew an impending snow storm was inbound, and they were in a rush to finish early and get home to their families. It had been snowing since early morning, and was set to get much worse.

Y/N on the other hand was in no rush, she usually locked up after Alfie retired for the night. He continued to insist she leave when he does, but she always maintained that she had work to finish.

Which was always true.

Y/N knew Alfie's entire life and was responsible for organizing every single event and meeting he was required to attend. Y/N's involvement in his life has left her with unstoppable admiration for Alfred Solomons. It wasn't like she could quit or take a vacation to get over these feelings, Alfie paid way too well and was the best boss she was going to find in Camden town. (Plus the bakery would fall apart without her). She considered going out on the weekends and meeting a fine gentleman, but the weekend was when Y/N picked up Alfie's dry cleaning, took Cyril to the groomers, prepped Alfie's dinners for the week, and tidied up the bakery.

"He will see you in his office next Wednesday at 3pm sharp. Thank you for calling Mr. Lewis!" Y/N spoke, ending her call and putting the phone on the line, scribbling in Alfie's jam packed ledger.

"Who' was that?" Alfie's deep accent sounded from behind her. Y/N jumped and turned, seeing her boss standing looking over her shoulder with a curious look. Y/N placed her pen back in its holder and straightened out her papers.

"Mr. Lewis, he was scheduling a meeting to talk about investments down in Bristol. You're meeting with him Wednesday afternoon after your lunch with Mr. Shelby." Y/N explained. Alfie huffed.

"Bristol? Fuckin' posh city 'at is, what's in it for him?" Alfie grunted, walking to his desk while removing his coat and hat, shaking the snow flakes off.

"Not sure, I think his import business is struggling, bread would be sure to bring in customers." Y/N shrugged. She looked at her wrist watch and then back to the man sitting at his desk reading papers with his glasses resting upon his nose.

"Why are you back so early? Your visit with the distributors wasn't set to be done for another hour." Y/N flipped through her ledger with a puzzled face. Alfie grunted.

"Storm's movin faster than we thought, left early to get back 'ere" He explained without removing his eyes from his paper.

"Well I wish you would have phoned ahead to tell me, I could push your appointments for the rest of the day up." Y/N huffed, frustrated that her meticulous planning could have been adjusted to save them both time.

"I don't 'ave anymore meetin's today." Alfie stated plainly. Y/N furrowed her brows even more and flipped back through the ledger.

"You have five more meetings before close Alfie, Jim is coming in on your lunch break in an hour an-" Alfie cut her off.

"Ah yes lunch, where is it? I'm starved." Alfie said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his stomach, looking like a grizzly bear as he did so. Y/N resisted the urge to smile at his cute act.

"Alfie. What do you mean you don't have any more meetings?" Y/N pressed again.

"Christ love, you're going to give yourself an ulcer. Like I said the storm is comin' in quicker 'an we thought. I gave the men the rest of the day off and canceled my meetings." Alfie explained. Y/N just about had a heart attack. She stood from her desk across from Alfie's and began pacing the room.

"Alfred Solomons! This throws my entire ledger off! How am I supposed to reschedule that many meetings? You're completely booked for the next six weeks! This is terrible for business, maybe if I call them-" Before Y/N could finish, Alfie was standing in front of her, his hands on her waist to stop her pacing. She could feel the indentation of his rings through her dress and she shivered lightly. She looked into his eyes and let out a deep breath.

"You're about to pace an 'ole through the floor, sit down and take a breath yeah? Those meetin's weren't important. The bakery is just fine." Alfie spoke, rubbing his thumbs up and down her waist gently. Her anger towards his carelessness was gone immediately, he had a way of doing that. She huffed and let him guide her to his chair where she sat. After sitting in his chair she went into his desk drawer and placed his freshly made sandwich wrapped in parchment on his desk.

“Roast chicken sandwich I made from my leftovers last night.” Y/N explained, rubbing her forehead. Alfie unwrapped the sandwich and took a gluttonous bite, smacking as he chewed the food. He sat himself at the edge of his desk, something Y/N knew would bother his joints.

“Fuckin’ delicous ‘at is.” He mumbled with his mouth full. Y/N let out a sigh and reached up, gently pushing his chin so his mouth would close, swiping crumbs from his beard as she removed her hand. It was then that Y/N realized how quiet the bakery truly was. No chatter from the men, no heavy machinery, even the streets outside were devoid of all sound. Y/N felt tempted to lean in after she removed her hand from Alfie’s face but resisted. He stared into her eyes with that look only he could give, the one that made her scared, weak, and in love all at once.

“What would I do without you?” He asked, quieter than his normal speaking volume.

“Probably combust into flames.” She shrugged. He let out a scoff laugh and Y/N chuckled. The pair sat in silence for a few minutes longer while Alfie ate and Y/N organized his space.

A few hours later Y/N and Alfie were doing what they usually did during a normal day at the bakery. Y/N’s workload was a bit different and more stress inducing, she had to call and reschedule all of Alfie’s canceled meetings and adjust inventory and compensation for all the workers Alfie let off early. Y/N knew these extra tasks on top of her usual work load would have her in the office later than usual. Alfie worked on his own paperwork, sorting contracts and things alike. They worked in silence how they usually do, but today was different. The silence surrounding the bakery was deafening, and the tension was palpable.

Y/N sighed and looked out the window, the snow falling quicker than it was earlier. Her walk home was going to be miserable. She knew Alfie had men following her to ensure her safe return, but she always insisted she walk to and from work to maintain her independence. Alfie decided to have men follow her without her knowledge, but Y/N was Alfie’s secretary, she signed off on the raise for that task.

“Alright, treacle, I’m takin’ the car home, the roads should be clear for a while longer from what I ‘eard.” Alfie spoke, breaking the silence. He stood and put his hat and coat on, walking to the door as his cane quietly clanked on the wooden floorboards. He stopped at my desk and opened his hand out to me.

“C’mon now, love, day’s over.” Alfie spoke. Y/N shook her head and looked back at her ledger.

“You go on home Alfie, I still have meetings to rearrange and set up on top of going through today’s accounts and a few other tasks. I’ll see you in the morning if the roads are cleared up.” Y/N dismissed Alfie, continuing to write.

“M’not leavin’ ya’ here to freeze, treacle. Stop bein’ stubborn and let me take you home.” Alfie grunted, getting frustrated with the determined woman who sat in front of him.

“You and I both know I won’t be leaving this office any time soon, and I won’t let you wait for me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Alfred.” Y/N spoke, a bit of irritation in her tone. Alfie sighed, when she called him Alfred whatever she was saying was final, no if’s, and’s, or what's about it. He nodded to her and left his office, deciding to wait outside of the bakery in the snow for her to finish up. He would show her she wasn’t the only hard headed worker in the bakery.

Y/N continued on working like normal, telling herself she was most likely going to crash on the couch in the office to avoid the storm. It had been about an hour later when she decided to take a break and call up her friend Myrtle, Ollie’s wife.

Alfie on the other hand, cursed himself and Y/N for being so stubborn as his joints ached in the cold winter air. Alfie used his key to reenter the bakery, rubbing his hands together and deciding to go and get Y/N, whether she came willingly or not.

Y/N walked about the office while chatting with Myrtle.

“What in gods name are you still doing down at the bakery at this hour? Didn’t that Solomons let everyone go home early?” Myrtle questioned on the other line. Y/N huffed.

“Yeah I would’ve been home early today if that damned man didn’t cancel all his meetings. I was left behind to clean up the mess.” Y/N complained. Alfie stood outside of the open office door and held himself back for yelling at her for that rubbish she was spreading.

“Oh please Y/N, we both know you could’ve done that work tomorrow and the bakery would still remain unchanged. You just want to please that boss of yours.” Myrtle scoffed. Y/N huffed and played with the cord of the phone.

“I do not want to please him! I just prefer to be organized! Can you blame me for being good at my job?” Y/N ranted. Alfie felt a bit bad for listening in, but then again he’s probably done worse than light eavesdropping.

“Sweetheart, you only need to be good at your job during working hours. Cooking his meals and walking his dog is hardly under the job description of a secretary. That’s the job of a wife.”

“Well, he isn’t married! He only has one maid and she’s not getting any younger, you saw Edith at the market last week, she looked weak. I’m just giving a bit of extra help to his household.” Y/N continued to defend herself.

“Why can’t you admit you are in love with him darling? After I told Ollie I loved ‘em he basically pushed me into the synagogue and had us married.” Myrtle urged. Y/N sighed but smiled nonetheless at the love those two shared.

“I can’t ever be in love with my boss, Myrtle. It’s incredibly inappropriate, he would never love me back, and I care about him too much to toss what we already have in the trash.” Y/N spoke, pushing tears back.

“You’ll never know until you just tell him! Things don’t have to be different Y/N, he might love you too! And with the way you care for him? You’re practically betrothed without all the fuckin!” Myrtle exclaimed. Y/N laughed.

“Yeah well, the only man I would consider fucking is a man who will never love me the way I love him. Alfred Solomons has made it very clear I am not a woman he would ever desire.” Y/N spoke, trying to stop her throat from closing up. She came to that conclusion after overhearing Alfie saying he would never date or marry, especially a hard headed woman, he said he wouldn’t have the time or energy for a woman of that caliber. So, Y/N knew he didn’t want her.

“An’ who the fuck told you that?” Alfie spoke from the doorway. Y/N jumped and turned to see Alfie there with his hat and coat in hand, placing his cane against the wall.

“Did he just hear everything you-”

“I will call you later Myrtle.” Y/N spoke, her eyes still wide and her heart now beating rapidly. She ended the call and avoided Alfie’s eyes.

“I-I’m sorry Mr. Solomons. Please can we just forget everything? I don’t want to ruin anything and I need this job! I am so embarrassed I can’t believe I-”

“Christ woman, would you shut up?” Alfie called out, rubbing his beard. Y/N’s mouth snapped shut and she grew even more nervous.

“I never would’ve thought you’d go for a bloke like me. I’m fuckin’ criminal, dove. I steal, I kill, I lie, and I’m a selfish bastard. I know I’m no good for ya, but because I am such a selfish bastard, I plan on keeping you all to myself if you’ll allow it. Judgin’ by you wantin’ to fuck me an’ all, I think we’re in agreement, yeah?” Alfie spoke, placing his hat and coat on Y/N’s desk before approaching where she stood in the middle of the office. Y/N’s cheeks flushed.

“So, you… want to be with me?” Y/N questioned, looking up into Alfie’s eyes. Alfie scoffed.

“If I knew you were this daft, I wouldn’tve hired ya.” Alfie joked. Y/N laughed and gently smacked his arm.

“You couldn’t tell your head from your ass wihtout me, Solomons.” Y/N replied. Alfie’s face spread out in his beautiful grin he rarely showed off.

“An’ that’s why I fuckin’ need you more than air, dove.” Alfie muttered, leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. Y/N moaned into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, tangling her fingers in his thick hair. He responded by placing one large hand across her back, pulling her flush to him, while the other hand gripped her waist. Alfie’s beard scratched Y/N’s face in the best way, and the feeling of his coarse beard hair coupled with his plump lips against his had her melting in his hands.

The sound of a loud bang pulled the couple away from each other. The bakery had gone pitch black, the snow storm knocking the power out. They both took deep breaths and looked around in the darkness until the pair managed to light enough candles to light up the small room.

The warmth of the candlelight surrounded them both as Alfie picked Y/N up, laying her down gently on the couch.

“How about I show you just how bad I want to fuck you, yeah?”

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Mokum Part 2 (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Humour, Modern AU

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Alfie Solomons x Dutch Fem!Reader

Word count: 20K

Warnings: Swearing/Cussing, allusion to eating disorders, lots of self-doubt and melancholy, Alfie being a tooth-rotting fluffy gentleman, vaping, Papa Solomons/Wolfy antics (yes, that is a warning in and of itself).

Summary: Sequel to Mokum Part 1.

Alfie

It’s funny, innit, ‘ow I get to meet the little dove in a city that’s called a safe haven. A place where I don’t ‘ave to worry about the business or me whole bloody kingdom. Yeah... real nice place, Mokum.

Exactly what I saw in a recent revelation too. I saw myself sittin' at a window, a cup of coffee in front on the table. The scenery outside was as evanescent as always, slippin’ through Time and Space like the steam from the coffee. Unsteady, waverin’, fluid. Impossible to catch and anchor, to make a concrete world, an existence to fully live in. 

But there’s also always another presence across from me. I merely assumed the shadow in the other chair was a person, a spectre of myself to forebode the end or Yahweh ‘Imself wantin’ to talk or give me a proper send-off to Hell. Never assume things you aren’t certain of, right, because you end up makin’ big mistakes that way.

I was wrong.

It was Y/N.

Inside the little bubble in that vision, she stopped time and gave me a chance to live. To forget me health and enjoy the minutes I have left.

I want to live slowly with her.

I don’t fully understand yet why or the weird effect she ‘as on me. But what I saw will come to fruition one way or the other. Even if I will only get to enjoy it for a second, right, I will do my damn best to get through that thick pretty ‘ead of ‘ers and ‘ave that moment.

A last cup of coffee with my little dove.

Afterwards, I can let go.

Open the cage and set ‘er free.  

Y/N

There is something wonderful about chasing dreams, an ideal like Love. You keep thinking you are worthy of it until you have it because it’s unfamiliar. The heat seeps into the walls you’ve created to protect yourself, crumbling them bit by bit. Yet you fight to prevent them from collapsing, terrified of the aftermath should it happen.

But sometimes it’s worth the wager, the ruin of those high walls. After all, who knows what might arise from the ashes?

One wolf tried and failed, a false victory on my behalf. To this day I regret I didn’t end the war with my heart and mind sooner.

However, now it’s Alfie who’s knocking at the gates with books and coffee.

And I stand on the other side of the door, twiddling with the key.

The sound of butterfly wings being torn ringing in my ears.

Author’s Note: Oh my days, here it is at long last. My hand definitely slipped with this one. However, I won’t lie, it kinda makes me want to dabble into novellas. Maybe I should properly attempt NaNo this summer. Anyway, cracking on!

I’ve thrown some Russian and Dutch into the mix of languages this works seems to become quite rich in. Nevertheless, as before and the same goes for the use of Yiddish, if you see any mistakes when it comes to Russian, please let me know! I will edit the text immediately.

TH Masterlist

Tag List: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @buttercupsandboys @zablife @babaohhhriley @rose-like-the-phoenix @dreamlandcreations @elijahssuit​ @liliac-dreamer​ @alikaheroes​ @wandawiccan60​ @vir-tual​​​

Shoutout to the fathers who believe the blatant lies of their daughters.

“That’s a nice scarf. Is it new?”

“Yeah, I bought it recently.”

Shoutout to the fathers who don’t ask any relevant questions.

“What are you dressing up for this early?”

“It’s Saturday, remember? The fabric market.”

Shoutout to the fathers who don’t converse with their daughters.

“Ah, right! Well, have fun.”

Here’s a shoutout to their absence, their silence.

And the hidden life we daughters live in it.

There’s only a limited amount of luck in a day, but it seems I used up two days worth yesterday. 

It isn’t unusual nowadays for there to be a strike and it influencing public transport. 

Neither is it for my sister to ask me what I’m up to, although it is strange I have to lie to her. Normally I would never for it is sometimes better to keep my silence rather than tell the sometimes harsh gods-honest truth. However, the question for who the Delftware and white fluffy wolf plushie is came a little too close for comfort.

“A friend. I’m meeting up with them after the fabric market for a pumpkin spice latte.”

Not a full lie. 

A half-truth, half true.

I smiled to myself, temporarily having forgotten the rush to get to Amsterdam Central Station.

Funny, that sounds like something Alfie would say.

Shoutout to the sisters who readily accept your word.

At last I reach the destination. I mingle into the crowd to get off the train, but slip from the throng of bodies once my foot hits the platform. As per usual, they stream right to the escalator, where they form a new queue. It will be a miraculous day if the same happens at the stairs a little ways ahead.

Clutching my bag tight and pulling Alfie’s scarf closer, basking in his familiar scent and grateful for its lingering, I descend the steps into the station hall. No matter how many times I’ve been here, I always have to look both ways to make sure I head in the right direction.

Left.

Right.

Ah, there's Starbucks.

Right it is.

Outside, it’s as chaotic as ever. People walk between the trams, aggravating the drivers to no end. All around there are hellos and goodbyes, fragments of various languages on the wind which interrupt the incessant noise from the construction that is still going on. Then again, maybe it isn’t a far-fetched guess to say it’s started anew because of whatever it is they have broken up terrain for this time.

I scan my surroundings in hopes of finding Alfie. Yesterday it was fairly easy to spot him, towering above the rest of the people in the mostly empty parking lot. However, this is a spot where finding a person whose number you don’t have is like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Anyone with a Vape?

The thought makes me uneasy, worry making my fingers itch with the urge to clutch his arm and beg him to stop smoking. Unfortunately, I am not in a position to ask such a thing from him. After all, we only have today. Besides, why would he listen to a girl he barely knows? 

I fish the white and Deltware wolf plushie I made out of my bag and look wistfully into its beady eyes. Whatever the outcome of today, I have no regrets having put hours into making the wee thing. If anything, it was good practice.

Though I hope it gives him something to remember me by.

A moment.

A memory.  

But you’ll stay with him, won’t you? Until the end.

My breath hitches, my throat constricted by dark melancholy. The world slows down, bodies blurring and melting together, each face as vague and indistinguishable as the next one.

I have to find him. Jaysus fuck, where are you, Wolfy?

It’s ridiculous, a grown young woman clutching a stuffie frantically looking around. But what else can I do, desperate for what little time we have and a reason to apologise?

What if… What if he gave up? Left because I’m late? No, dear gods, no.

A wave of relief lightens the burdens off of my shoulders when I notice a long grey tweed pea coat and wolf cane by the metro entrance. Today’s outfit consists of a navy blue knitted cardigan with a beige tartan blouse underneath, both of them hanging open, and a grey button-up shirt with the top buttons undone. As I approach, I notice some of his chest hair peeking out, dark brown peppered with grey.

Fluffy wolf. Oh my days, where’s your sanity, woman? Your honour?

“Alfie, I’m so sorry, but I got held up at home and the bus was late and then my train got cancelled and-’’ I blabber, my knuckles turning white like the plushie in my hands as my nails dig into it. Even to my own ears, the apology sounds silly.

“Shhh,” he places a hand on my shoulder, “Take a deep breath, darlin’.”

Basking in the warmth of his touch, I inhale deeply and exhale through my mouth.

“There. That’s better, innit?” I nod, indeed feeling a bit better. A twinkle illuminates his eyes. ‘‘You’re wearin’ my scarf. Like it that much?’’

I tug at the fabric, the tips of my ears warmer than before. ‘‘Yeah, it’s- it’s nice. I can return it, though! Right now or I’ll wash it and send it.’’

‘‘Keep it. It looks good on you.’’An eyebrow raised, he shifts his attention to the plushie in my hands. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, right!” I present the half-forgotten surprise gift to him. “I made this for you. As a, let’s say, little ‘thank you’ for yesterday and my leg.”

Alfie takes the plushie from my hands. A smile slowly spreads on his lips as he looks it over. “This little chap needs a name, doesn’t ‘e? I’m not gonna travel with someone without knowing their name, way too dangerous, right, because you don’t know who or what you’re dealin’ with. Then again, yeah… I think I know.”

“Know what? A name?”

“Wolfy the Second,” Alfie proudly declares.

“Who’s the first?”

“Me.”

Is he serious? Judging by that grin, he is. That… That’s kinda cute, though. You’re an idiot.

I press my lips together, cheeks aflame and not from the lingering summer heat. “I see.”

“But ‘e goes by Velvel. Means ‘wolf’ in Yiddish.”

“That’s kinda on the nose, innit?”

A twinkle sparks in his eye at my response. “We could also go with another variant of the name. William or Vladimir, which do you prefer? Or maybe Volf?”

Head tilted, I purse my lips. I snap my fingers at the first idea that pops up. “How about Vladimir Volf?” 

Alfie makes a face.

Okay, maybe not.

“Hey, he’s your travel buddy now. You decide.”

“But you’re ‘is creator. You choose.”

“He’s yours to look after.”

“You brought him into this world. A name is a powerful thin’, makes one whole. The honour is yours.”

“Are we seriously debating a plushie’s name?”

“We wouldn’t ‘ave to if you bloody decided.”

I open and close my mouth, gobsmacked by his argument. “Excuse me? If I decided? I gave him to you.”

“You’re cute when you get angry,” Alfie smirks.

Were you simply trying to rile me up just so you could say that? You… you bloody bastard! You idiot!

“I hate you.”

“Now, now, ‘’ate’ is a strong word, don’t you think?”

I cross my arms. “Well, you won’t like the alternative.”

“Which is?”

Don’t make me say it.

“Y/N,’’ he lowers his voice, slowly yet clearly pronunciating his words, ‘‘what’s the alternative?”

I lose the will to remain defiant when he leans in, my body ready to submit in the face of power. “Meanie.”

Alfie laughs heartily. “You don’t ‘ave a bad bone in your body. I think I’ll go with Velvel.”

“Ve- Vel-’’

“Velvel.”

“With a schwa?” He nods. “Velvel. Yeah, you know what? I like that.”

“That’s decided then, innit?” He stuffs the wee thing into his backpack. “So, my fair guide, what are we goin’ to do today?”

“I thought I’d show you Mokum through my eyes. I mean, the Dam and Rijksmuseum are nice and all, but there’s more to Amsterdam. Although, the Rijks does have a nice art collection, so, if you’d like, I mean, I don’t know how much you like art galleries-’’

“‘Ow do you think I gain inspiration for my designs?”

“Well, uhm…’’ I rub the back of my neck, eyes averted to the ground, ‘‘Internet?”

“Fucking ‘ell, I’m only pullin’ your leg. You’re not wron’, though. ‘‘But,” he rests his hands on the handle of his cane, “if my guide thinks it barbarous for me to miss the, ‘ow’d you say it again?”

“Rijksmuseum, often nicknamed ‘het Rijks’.”

“R- Rey-’’

“Rijks. I can’t really think of a word in English that has a similar ‘ij’ sound.”

“Ij- ij- Rijks. ‘Et Rijks.”

“Not bad, not bad at all,” I beam at him. “But it’s quite a wee bit away from here and I think it might become too much for your leg.”

“Darlin’,” he boops my nose, “stop worryin’ that pretty little ‘ead of yours. I’ll strain meself ‘owever fuckin’ much I want. First things first, though, let’s get you your pumpkin spice latte.”

You remembered! 

However, there is no chance to let myself be swallowed by the storm of butterflies inside my body to drift on their wings, because my companion seems to be in a rush. 

Alfie starts walking ahead, head held high and with a resolute stride like he is on his way to proclaim victory on a battlefield. I scramble after him, gobsmacked by his confidence. “Do you know where you’re going?”

Surely you haven’t spent enough time here in the city centre yet, having been busy with the convention?

Then again, I don’t know what he did before I arrived, after I left, or at night. Who he spent his time with.

I swallow the bitter taste on my tongue and force myself to unclench my jaw while trying to catch up with him. Although his leg is a problem, it doesn’t seem like it is today considering how swift on his feet he is. Alfie is even faster than I am during rush hour and high on caffeine.

“To the Starbucks near the Dam,” he says casually. “It’s the only place I can find ‘ere. You’d expect you’d be able to find anything you desire in a city that claims to be a safe haven.’’

‘‘Maybe your greatest desire right now is a cup of coffee,’’ I say in between breaths, closing the last bit of distance between us with a light jog.

How fast would you be if you were revved up on caffeine and your leg wasn’t hurting? 

Alfie blinks, eyebrows raised with a sudden realisation, and then hums in something that holds the middle between amusement and displeasure. He slows his pace to match mine. ‘‘Could be, yeah, but I still need your guidance. Otherwise, I don’t know where your world is. And I’m done with wanderin’.”

“The bookshops of this city are part of it. If you lose me, look for me there. Or, you know, shoot me a message over IG.”

“Or we could call.” 

He loops his arm through mine to safely guide us across the street, where we come to a halt. Alfie fishes his phone out of the pocket of his jeans, creates a new contact, and hands it to me. Apparently, he named me Funny Accent. “I promise I won’t make unsolicited calls. You ‘ave my word, darlin’.”

I frown and glare at him. “My accent’s not funny.”

“It is, considerin’ who you are.” He bounces on his feet, chuckling. “You give me your number, I change the name.”

“To what?”

“You won’t know till you put it in, won’t ya?”

“I could also not give it at all.” I shrug. “Guess I’ll remain the lass with the funny accent.”

“Except you don’t want to be, do ya?” He tilts his head, full lips pulled into a lop-sided smirk. “Your number, Y/N.”

Grumbling about how he can so easily read me, I fill out my details and hold out his phone to him. “There. Now please change it.”

“Because you ask so nicely,” he purrs. “A promise is a promise.”

Alfie bites his lip, dreaming up a gods-only-know what kind of nickname. Then he nods, types it out, and shows me the screen. “‘Ere. ‘Ow’s that?”

Little dove.

Hardly capable of not giving into the warm fuzzy feeling inside, I nod. “Better.”

“I also have an alternative.”

“Which is?”

A sly smile spreads on his lips. “Let’s first get to know each other a little better and maybe, yeah, if you play your cards right, I’ll tell you.”

“So mean.” I shake my head and place my hands on my hips with feigned hurt. “Here I am, kind enough to be your guide and this is how you treat me.”

“I am terribly sorry, my lady, but we ‘aven’t known each other that long, ‘ave we? Your ‘umble servant merely stated a fact.”

You’re not wrong, though. This is only the third time we’ve seen each other.

“That may be so, but I might forgive your transgression if you give me your number as well, good sir.”

A few people turn their heads and look at us, puzzled by our theatrical bickering. Alfie and I exchange glances. He raises a sarcastic eyebrow and rolls his eyes. I giggle and curl a finger under my nose, head bowed. When I look back at him, he’s grown still, observing me. “What?”

“Nothin’. Never mind, just me old mind goin’ places.” He clears his throat and holds out his hand. “Your phone.”

I pull it out of my bag, create a new contact, and hand the device to him.

“Wolfy?”

Caught red-handed committing a blatant crime of the heart, I turn my face away. “Yeah. I- I can change it.”

“Don’t.” His fingers fly over the screen, typing out his number. Then he hands my phone back to me. “And call me that as much as you like.”

“Wait- You- Hang on, you seriously won’t mind? You know I was being weird when I said that, right?”

Is he for real? Surely he’s joking.

“You were bein’ yourself. And,” he groans, muttering under his breath as he continues, “I kinda like it. Very much.”

“Wolfy,” I tug on his sleeve, lips pulled into a pout and filled with an uncharacteristic amount of bashfulness , “can we please get a pumpkin spice latte now?”

“‘Ow am I supposed to say ‘no’ when you do that, eh?”

“Do what?”

“Entshant mir.” Alfie’s expression brightens when he notices I perfectly understood him. He holds out his arm and instinctively I clutch his bicep. “Let’s go, you clever little dove.”

Unsurprisingly, the coffee shop is stacked to the brim with people, most of them foreigners and teenagers. I let go of his arm and scan the area, but there’s no available seating. “I can check if there’s another branch nearby. Hopefully, we can plop down there. Although, the station has a Starbucks as well and there’s always room.”

“Or we stay ‘ere, I chase a few people away, and we ‘ave a nice and quiet coffee moment together. ‘Ow about that, eh?”

I turn on my heel, searching his face for a clue he doesn’t mean what he said. “You can’t be serious. About the ‘chasing people away’ part, I mean.”

“I am. Really, it’s no trouble.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You get me a cappuccino, right, and I’ll find us a place to sit.”

“No intimidating people. Stay here.’’ I grab his sleeve when he makes to go on his coffee shop war. ‘‘We’ll order together and drink it outside.”

“And where do you think to sit, hm? Maybe I wanna do some people watchin’, a bit of drawin’.”

“What would you draw? Also, no working. It’s your day off.”

“I draw for a livin’, Y/N, but also for pleasure. And maybe,” he leans in close enough for his breath to ghost over my lips, “I want to draw my little dove enjoyin’ her pumpkin spice latte in a nice and cosy environment.”

“You could also do that somewhere else.”

“Nah, my vision is of you, the place ‘ere. It’s good to be stubborn as an artist.” He slips me his card and kisses the tip of my nose. “Go on. Wolfy will find a place to sit.”

With total disregard for the mayhem he unleashed inside me, he mixes into the throng of people. I gawk at him as he does so, my tongue paralyzed, incapable of calling him back.

Which might only make matters worse. 

I’m fairly certain an exploded heart is lethal.

He… He kissed me! The tip of my nose! What- What the fuck?

I flip his card between my fingers, biting my lip to suppress the smile tugging on the corners of my mouth.

That was actually quite nice.

A sweet little fragment to be left with.

The queue moves forward at a snail’s pace, but fast enough for me to start panicking about how to order.

One cappuccino, medium, and one pumpkin spice latte, small. No, wait. One venti, is that the medium size? Or grande? I’ll just say medium. And a tall pumpkin spice latte. With no cream. Or should I go medium too? And a focaccia, to share. Yes.

I repeat the order over and over in my head, silently mouthing the words as inconspicuous as possible. Step by step, the moment approaches.

And passes without too much hassle. Well, without too much stuttering and plenty of effort to maintain my composure. Nevertheless, the order came out much smoother than anticipated.

I join the rest of the people waiting for their drinks, scrolling through Instagram to gain some inspiration for future tattoos. However, from underneath my lashes, I scan the café to look for Alfie. Casually I glance around the space when the former doesn’t work out, my chest tightening with the suspicion I look like a skittish moron.

The feeling fades, though, when I notice him sitting by the window. The sunlight illuminates the grey strands in his hair, which form silver highlights in his tousled locks. Sitting at an angle that allows him to watch everyone from the corner of his eye, he’s drawing on his tablet while Velvel watches over him.

He looks as serene as he did in the harbour yesterday, lost in thought as he taps his Apple pencil against his lips. To be honest, I’m glad that in moments like this he seems removed from the world.

Unable to see other women staring at him.

Lusting after him.

Out for what’s mine.

Although, is he really? Alfie can be humorous, casually playful or for reasons yet unknown. But the kiss on the nose, the argument about Velvel’s name, the way he insisted on being noted down as ‘Wolfy’ in my phone, the whole of yesterday.

Is there an ulterior motive?

Or is it plain fun, something to pass the time?

My breath hitches, my fingers growing cold and restless with the need for warmth.

For assurance.

A safe anchor to ground me in reality.

I wish you were right here, holding my hand.

Like he’s read my mind, Alfie turns in his seat and our eyes meet. Whatever he’s seen in mine makes him ready to get up, hand already on the handle of his cane. Nonetheless, he sits down again when I gesture for him all is well.

Sort of.

“A cappuccino and pumpkin spice latte for Y/N?”

“Yep, that’s me!” I turn and grab the drinks.

“Enjoy.”

It’s funny how the mind works. One minute you’re in the present, and in the next a cruel wave of nostalgia hits you with a half-forgotten memory.

The same drinks.

Chris sitting in one of the worn leather chairs in the middle of this very same Starbucks, drawing in his notebook.

Chimes.

Norigae.

Dark eyes bright with a joyous tenderness I’d never seen before when my ghosts sits down across from him and passes him his cappuccino.

Once again testing his ‘puppy taste buds’ even though he clearly hates coffee, nose scrunched for a moment before he forces himself to drink it anyway.

Laughter.

Our laughter.

The high screeching of the steamer pulls me from my reverie.

Shit, Chris, where are you? Do you… Do you still think about me?

The world turns watery while my heart feels like it’s forced through a shredder.

Are you still in love?

I inhale a shaky breath, mentally chastising myself for such a display of weakness.

Turns out I still am. Have been all along.

I breathe in deeply, blink a couple times, and sniffle.

No, this isn’t fair towards Alfie.

Cruel, isn’t it, how the heart remains engraved with the stories you thought had ended long ago? But it isn’t only the heart.

You remember.

Like the forest does.

Acting as if nothing happened, I rejoin the man by the window’s company and put the medium cup in front of him. “There you go. I also got us something to eat.”

He doesn’t pay the food nor coffee any attention, gaze focused on me. I sit down on the chair next to him and take a sip from my pumpkin spice latte. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he grumbles after yet another moment of scrutiny. He clenches and unclenches his fists, the beads of the bracelets around his wrists rattling. “Nothin’.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

For a while we remain silent. Alfie occasionally sips his coffee when he’s not looking at or poking the cup, nibbling on a piece of focaccia I feed him or drawing on his tablet in the meanwhile. I watch the massive crowd manoeuvring the street, tourists trying to make sense of the trams, some afraid to be run over by a car or bicycle, unaware of the policy of ‘just bloody go’. You need to be daring if you hope to get anywhere in this damned city.

“At this rate, we won’t make it to the Rijks.” I glance at my watch, almost half past one. If we are to have proper lunch, surely there won’t be much time to leisurely wander around the museum.

“Mhm.”

“You don’t mind?”

Alfie shrugs, still drawing. “There’s next time. Besides, you owe me a museum trip now.”

I lean in, not that it will prove I misheard him. “I owe you?”

“Let’s phrase it like this. I, yeah, owe you a museum trip. For today, live slow with me.” He smiles softly. “You always seem so rushed.”

“I’m Dutch, we always have business to conduct. We’re merchants.”

He pokes my head. “I mean up ‘ere, mostly, ya silly girl. But so am I. I think we need to do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

“Oi!” I put my coffee down and rub my forehead. However, my stomach churns when his words dawn on me. “What goes on in yours?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Tenderly he kisses my forehead and hums like a pleased wolf when he nuzzles my nose with his, his whiskers ticklish on my skin. “Live slow with me. Let’s just sit ‘ere, drink coffee. I’ll draw, you read. Velvel would like it too.”

“Attached to him already?” I take a big sip from my latte to swallow the last piece of the bread, basking in its spiced warmth.

“Maybe.’’ Alfie pets Velvel with his Apple pencil, moving it in between his ears. ‘‘I’m still jealous, though.”

“How so?”

“You made ‘im. ‘E knows the power you ‘old. Your touch.”

I put my cup down again and reach out to trace his jaw. His beard is coarse yet smooth against my fingertips as I run them through it. “You do as well.”

Brow knitted, his lashes flutter shut. A low groan erupts from his throat as he leans into the touch. “Only, hm, only like this, yeah. Very shallow.”

His hand snakes up my thigh, leaning on it without putting his whole weight on it. It’s the same kind of grip he used back in Birmingham, securing my leg without hurting me. I suppose it can be said it’s rather thoughtful.

Nevertheless, it tightens when I trace his bottom lip with my thumb, using me for support while he rushes forward. In reflex I flinch and lean back, hands on his shoulders to maintain some distance between us. His breath is shallow, his whole body shivering with restraint. 

Alfie swallows hard and moves his hand to the side to clench the edge of my seat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. Can’t behave, can I?”

I wrap my fingers around his wrist to put his bear-like palm back on my thigh. “I’m not well acquainted with your touch either.”

“You’ve already seen its rough side.” Lips pulled into a straight line, he brushes my cheek. The touch is light, close to jittery. Like he is handling precious porcelain and mortified at the thought of breaking it. “It ain’t swollen. No damage. Did it ‘urt much after I… crossed the line?”

“No, it was okay again by the time we drank coffee.”

“Right.’’ His voice is lacking conviction, cold in its acknowledgement of what happened yesterday.

“It’s okay, Alfie.”

“Right.” He traces the shell of my ear, barely touching it and quick to retract his hand. “Drink your latte. Enjoy the view. Let me do the work and capture this moment, eh.”

So we sit, the chaos of conversations held behind us dimming into a low buzz. Alfie occasionally sips from his cappuccino, but only when I throw him a hint it’s still there. Brow furrowed, his lets his stylus glide over the screen while sometimes mumbling under his breath in Russian, Yiddish, or English. The frown only fades when he glances at me, his features smoothing out into studious wonder.

In the meanwhile, I’m reading on my phone. Nevertheless, it’s difficult to focus on the story when I’m continuously wondering whether Alfie likes books and what he would recommend. Then again, given he’s fascinated by religion and symbolism, I wager he at least likes stories. But does he lean more towards fiction or non-fiction? Or does he prefer the fine line between the two of them?

Outside, Amsterdam gradually transforms into an impossible to navigate sea of people. It’s perhaps the thing I loathe the most about the city, be it here or abroad. It’s gets too busy, too chaotic, too fast. Yet, today, it’s actually less irritating since there’s no obligation to pull us away from here, pop our bubble and throw us back into the throng for work or suchlike.

We sit here, enjoying ourselves in the warm sunlight.

Basking in each other’s presence.

Happily on a date.

Could… could we call it that? I mean, I’m simply his guide, just a friendly local. But, he did kiss my nose. And then there’s what happened just now. Does that mean… no, no, it’s not. This isn’t a-

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I snap out of my reverie, blinking in astonishment. Alfie’s looking at me, head tilted and a frown marring his handsome features. “What do you mean? I was just looking out the window.”

“No, you weren’t. You were too far away for that, darlin’.” He puts his tablet down and leans on the table. “Don’t even think about lyin’. What’re you lookin’ so pale for?”

I squirm in my seat, embarrassed by my own words. “I- I was just wondering if this is… a- a… you know…”

“No, I don’t,” he answers matter-of-fact, but the gleam in his eyes tells me he wants me to use my words.

Like a good girl.

His good little dove.

“Alfie, you know very well what I mean,” I grumble, though even to my own ears I sound like a whining child.

“Go on. Say it.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Say. It. You’re a clever little thing, so use your words.”

“A date,’’ I relent. ‘‘I- I was wondering if this, here, now, is a date.”

“Seems pretty obvious to me.”

“Not to me.” I avert my gaze to my hands, clasped tight in my lap. “I’m a little stupid, so please tell me.”

A big warm palm covers my trembling fingers, a pleased hum vibrating through them. “It is.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

It’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you. There was nothing there to begin with, was there?

Above the buzz of conversation and woven into the tunes playing over the speakers, the strange sound I have been hearing since we met resonates in my ears. Like butterfly wings tearing apart.

Rip.

The squeeze he gives my hand was meant to be encouraging, but is firm to the point it hurts. Alfie’s words match the gesture, hasty and desperate despite the effort to keep his emotions under control. “I do. And before your funny little mind is gettin’ ideas again, this is the first time, right, the first time I’m doin’ this. Ollie would be ‘avin’ a bubble if ‘e ‘eard me, but it’s true.”

I look up to take him in, waiting for the lie to break the mask of frantic blue eyes. “You’ve never before-’’

“You’re the first girl, listen, bloody first girl I’ve met up with outside work. The first in a long time, in general.”

“Never married?”

“Never.”

“Partner?”

“I avoid permanent intimacy.”

“Flings?”

“Don’t like ‘em. Only when I couldn’t take care of meself.”

“So, you’re not one for relationships.”

“Don’t mean I’m not willin’ to try.”

“You just said you, and I quote, ‘avoid permanent intimacy’.”

“Maybe I’d like to change that?’’ His features soften, a hopeful calmth smoothing the lines in his face and making him look younger. ‘‘Never simply assume, yeah, makes for dangerous business. You don’t sign a contract you ‘aven’t read, do you?”

“Uhm, well…” Truth be told, there have been times in the past where I blindly signed a contract, simply glad to have a job, a form of income.

He pokes my head again, stressing each word with an additional poke. “You’re indeed a little stupid. Never sign anythin’ without readin’, ya hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I swat his hand away, a dull pain throbbing between my brows.

He grabs my face like he did yesterday, fingers digging into my cheeks. Alfie lowers his voice, a threatening tone lacing his drawl as he leans in, our noses touching. “I asked if you ‘eard me.”

“Y- Yes,” I stammer, caught between panic and the haze caused by the combination of the warmth between my thighs and his presence.

“Yes what?”

“Yes… Alfie?”

“Almost.”

“Yes, Wolfy.”

“Good,” he purrs, loosening his grip. “Glad we’re on the same page again.” 

He packs up, drinks the last of his coffee, and puts Velvel in one of the side pockets of his backpack before he slings it over his shoulder. Cane in hand, he looks at me expectantly. “C’mon. Let’s carry on.”

“Hang on, give me a second.” I finish my coffee too and scramble to my feet. Clutching his arm, we leave the building. I hold him a little tighter as soon as our shoes hit the pavement.

“Busy, innit?”

I hum in agreement.

“Easy to lose each other in.”

I grab him a little tighter, reluctant to let go.

What’re you on about?

“Let go of my arm, darlin’.”

“Why?”

What if I don’t want to?

“Because otherwise you’re bound to lose me in this fuckin’ ant nest. Go on. Let go.”

I do as he says, forcing myself to stop clutching him.

But the hesitation immediately disappears when he grabs my hand, his palm warm and rough against mine. “There. Much better. Now we can’t lose each other.” A satisfied grin spreads on his lips. “Where are we off to?”

In spite of trying to suppress it, I hum contently. Only to crumble in the next second, having forgotten the routes I planned for us on the way here. “Um, well, we have two options. Either we crack on to Scheltema, which is a very large bookstore and go from there. Or, we first go to the fabric store I frequent that’s a little outside the centre and work our way back to Rokin, which is just past the Dam.”

“I like option two. It would be good for me leg to get some exercise. ‘Sides, I’d like to see the little seamstress in her natural ‘abitat.” Lips pursed, he tilts his head. “Though, you’re not that, are ya. You’re more like this goddess who creates life with needle and thread.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as call myself a goddess. I’m just a girl who sews.”

“Dos meydl hot geshafn lebn fun di keytn, vos zi hot opgeshnitn fun dem volf, vos hot zikh farvandlt in a mentsh, gekhidusht fun ir magish.”

A girl… something about a wolf… a human, person, individual, whatever, and something ‘bout magic. C’mon, this isn’t fair.

“What did you just say?” I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t shut me out by switching to a language I don’t understand.”

“Just a little story of the woods. One your words made me think of.” He gestures in the distance with his cane. “Lead on, my fair guide.”

“Not until you tell me what you said.” I try to yank my hand out of his grip, but Alfie holds on tight. A flicker of disappointment flashes over his face, mixed with a strange sentiment I can’t name.

“It’s part of a story me mum used to tell me, an old legend of her people. But it’s also a tale told by the people in Scandinavia. In fact, it’s originally a Norse myth. ‘Owever, it’s a strange one since I found it bore similarities to an Irish myth I ‘eard from a couple of Travellers. It’s almost as if it’s a fusion of things. Then, when I was in Israel, and according to my faith, the story was also linked to the life of one of the prophets.”

“What’s the full story?”

“I’ll tell you some other time, yeah.” A weathered look, which makes him look older than he is and tired to the bone, twists his handsome features. “It’s quite a long one.”

“If you don’t wanna tell me, just say so.”

A shock of butterflies kickstarts my body when he kisses my temple. “Come to England and I’ll tell you. There’s an art piece in the British Museum about it, so I’ll get to make good on that date, eh?”

“Promise?”

“I solemnly swear so, my fair lady.” He gives my hand an encouraging squeeze. “Now, can we carry on?”

“That eager to see me browse a fabric store?”

“It’s part of your world, innit, which also makes it part of your mind. Gives me an inklin’ of ‘ow it works. So of course I am.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Weirdo.”

“I’m a little funny, yeah.” His gaze turns distant. “Both mad, but sharing the same insanity.”

A gift given to a select few so you told me in Birmingham. I’m glad we both have it.

“C’mon, Wolfy, let’s go.” I gently tug on his arm.

As planned, the nickname brings him back to me.

To us.

Here.

Together.

We navigate the mass of bodies back to the crossing near the central station. Some people make way to let us pass after being glared at by Alfie, who keeps me close at his side and towers over me like a human shield. In the meanwhile, I scurry after him, half hidden in his coat. After making a left, we cross the bridge.

Alfie points at the hotel we pass with his cane. “Currently stayin’ ‘ere. Ain’t bad, but it’s a shame there’s a two-person bed when there’s only one of me.”

I follow his gaze, staring at the edifice too. “Sometimes it’s nice, though, to have a big bed all to yourself.”

“Still feels empty. ‘Aven’t been sleepin’ well ‘cause of it,” he grumbles in response.

There’s more to that comment, isn’t there? I’m hard-pressed to believe you missed me so much it kept you awake.

“You don’t have to anymore.” His brow furrows at my remark, questions floating around his head. I nod to the wee plushie in the side pocket of his backpack. “You got Velvel now.”

A dark chuckle bubbles from his throat. “I do, don’t I? ‘E don’t take up much space, though.”

I would. I’d gladly take his place.

Glancing around the plaza with its brown cafés and restaurant, I clear my throat. “Let’s… let’s move on, eh. We’re almost there, just gotta walk right on through.”

We enter the narrow street leading away from where we stand. It passes through Chinatown and leads towards Nieuwmarkt. It’s a big square where, honouring it’s name, there’s basically always a market going on. In the middle of it stands The Waag, a fifteenth-century building that was once part of the city’s walls and acted as a gate. At one point in time, it’s been a guildhall, museum, anatomical theatre and much more.

Totally did not look it up in the train and rehearsed the entire Wikipedia page.

While telling Alfie about the building, we pass by my favourite boba shop. I point at the sign depicting a bunny drinking a milk tea. “That’s one of my favourite places to get milk tea. Shame we just had coffee, but otherwise I’d say we get us some. Or, well, me. I- I’d quickly go get some boba. I mean, I don’t know if you-’’

Fortunately, as he seemingly tends to do, he saves me from breaking out into a ramble. “Never ‘ad it. That’s that Taiwanese drink, right, the one everyone’s losin’ their damned minds over? The one with balls in it?”

I snort at his description. “Yeah, but those balls are called tapioca pearls. And I used to be a sceptic, but it’s actually quite good. However, I have to be in the mood for it. Especially since it’s also a calorie bomb. It’s definitely good for when you’re low on sugar, though.”

“It ain’t wrong to indulge every once in a while,” he says, the grim twist to his mouth hardly hidden beneath his beard. “Food isn’t meant to be worried ‘bout.”

“I like to watch after what I eat. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“You’re pretty as you are. There won’t be any worryin’, right, when you eat or drink with me. Not ‘ere, not when you come to Margate, not ever. Only, yeah, I, me, Wolfy, gets to worry. ‘Bout the bill tonight, ‘bout being able to provide properly for you. The only thing you get to worry that little ‘ead of yours about is what you want on your plate later.”

Surprised by the twist in the conversation, I squint as if it would help me discover whether I heard him correctly. Judging by his humourless expression, I did. “I didn’t know we were heading out to dinner.”

“We are. We’re on a date and I want to treat you right. Coffee, dinner, a nice long walk, explorin’ the city. Livin’ slow together.” He comes to a halt, grabs my chin with his free hand and tips it upwards, forcing me to look at him. He tenderly swipes his thumb over my bottom lip, in the same way I did earlier. “There’s little I’m serious about when it ain’t business. But I am ‘bout this. Greed is a sin, but one I seem to be guilty of committin’ yet again.”

“How so?”

“Because I want you all to myself today.” A shadow casts over his face. “But that boy, the one who drew in ‘is notebook, ‘e’s still on your mind too, ain’t ‘e?”

I step away, slipping my hand out of his, and shake my head. “No, he isn’t.”

“Don’t lie to me!’’ Alfie roars, but tones down his volume when he notices how it scares me. Nevertheless, he doesn’t do the same for the rage boiling inside him. ‘‘‘E’s the reason you spaced out. ‘Ow much did you two do? Did ‘e take you out like this? ‘Ow far did you go?”

We likely didn’t even make it past the beginning. I created a false start.

One step forward. 

“What’s ‘is name?”

One step back. 

“Doesn’t matter. None of it does. Yes, I do still miss him sometimes. But I am here with you. With you on my mind.”

“You’re dealin’ with a man now, not a boy” He grabs my sleeve, putting thought into grabbing a part where there’s only fabric, and pulls me to him with enough force to not make me stumble over my own feet. The distance between us closed, Alfie leans in, lets out a deep sigh, and nudges my nose with his in apology. “A man, damned as ‘e is, who will show you what it’s like to be treated right. Because that’s what you want, innit? To be treated well, to be loved right.” He places a hand on my hip and pulls me closer against his warm body, its heat tempting to trigger the uncharacteristic tendency towards complacency I seem to have around him. “By a man older than you. A man with experience. A king.”

I put a hand on his chest to gently push him away. To create some space to breathe.

To make room to forget.

Alfie’s gaze flits my hand to my face. Eyes squeezed shut, he grimaces as he mumbles something in a berating tone under his breath. With a slight tremor in his hand, he envelops my fingers. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just,” he begins, his voice devoid of its former fierceness, “I ‘ave this funny thought. Really funny. So much so I loathe it.”

“I think I know what you mean.” I rub his upper arms. “But we’re going very fast.”

“Perhaps we are. Yet, you deserve to know my mind. At least this part.”

“I… I thought, no, never mind.”

Maybe this won’t be a one-time thing.

“Let me do the thinkin’.” He cups the back of my head to draw me in for a kiss on my forehead. “I want you to simply enjoy yourself today. Which means, no thinkin’, no worryin’, no nothin’. You deserve a break.”

“You do too.”

“I wouldn’t know ‘ow. It’s always one fuckin’ thin’ after another. This comes close to it, though, bein’ ‘ere with you.”

“You have my number now. You could call or text me for a break.” Feeling bold, I move in to hug him. Automatically, he wraps me up in his arms. “When I finally get to England, I want you to take a proper break. Put your feet up, have a glass of rum, unplug.’’

“I still have to teach you ‘ow to shave a man, though.” His chest rumbles with a cheeky chuckle. “I do see it as self-care to put you in me lap for a trim.”

A flush of heat treks through my body as I imagine us sitting on the edge of the tub. His dreamy eyes are focused on me while I glide the razor over his skin. He’d easily be able to pick me up and place me wherever he wants.

“What if I mess up? Cut you?”

“You might, but it won’t matter.” He curls a finger under my chin again to make me look at him. “I won’t get angry, I promise. You’ve never done it before, so ‘ow could I expect you to do it perfectly on the first try, eh?” He frowns as he thoughtfully hums. “Funny.”

“What is?”

“Funny,” he repeats. A moment after, as if pulled from a fevered dream, he blinks. “Anyway, enough dawdlin’. Lead on, my fair guide.”

We move on, crossing the Nieuwmarkt and following one of the streets leading off of it. A little further ahead, we round the corner, stepping onto Nieuwe Hoogstraat.

I point to a shop on our right. “Here we are.”

The fabric store consists of three narrow but deep spaces filled with everything you could possibly need for a sewing or knitting project. In the utter left and utter right space, the walls are lined with rows upon rows of fabric. In the middle, you can find the smaller things like buttons and patches. It’s truly a seamstress’s Valhalla.

“Anythin’ you need in particular?” Alfie asks while trailing behind me.

“I use a specific kind of fluffy fabric for the bottom of my plushies. Should be somewhere round here,” I answer as I nod to the woman behind the till and crack on to the space on the right.

The roll of fabric I’m looking for is in its usual spot on top of the display near the front window. I look at it from where I’m standing, mentally cursing my height. “I hate being small.”

Alfie makes a dissatisfied sound. I raise an eyebrow even though I can already guess the reason behind his displeasure. “Being tiny can be a curse.”

But I’ll admit it’s a blessing when it comes to you.

Without waiting for his response, I grab the nearby ladder and set it up. I set a foot on its lowest step after giving it a slight shake to test whether it’s steady.

From behind, rough fingers warm the back of my neck, giving it a light squeeze. “Let me.”

“Really, it’s no problem.” I turn in his grip, oddly comforted by the hold, but don’t step down. “I’ve done this before.”

His hand falls away to push his cane towards me. “Hold this, darlin’.”

“Alfie, you’re not going up the ladder.”

“Well, I sure ain’t goin’ to stand ‘ere while you’re riskin’ your neck.”

I put another foot on the ladder.

“What’re you doing?” A note of sternness mixed with caution sharpens his voice. He taps the floor in annoyance. “Get down.”

I cross my legs and plop down on one of the steps, staring at him in defiance. “Either it’s me who goes up or you who goes down.”

Alfie cocks a sarcastic eyebrow. “Threatenin’ me, int’ya?”

“For your own good.” I sigh in exasperation and roll my eyes. “Alfie, I’m serious. It’s alright, I got this. Like I said, I’ve done this before.”

“I don’t want you to fall, Y/N. Maybe it’s different for you, but I, yeah, I don’t particularly fancy a trip to the ‘ospital. Even less so to drop you off.”

“Just hold the ladder. It’ll be alright.”

He opens and closes his mouth, but groans when he realises protesting is of no use. Instead, he does as I ask and keeps the ladder steady while I clamber up. 

With a bit of pushing, pulling, and forceful manoeuvring, I manage to pry the roll of fabric free from the pile.

“Look at you, doin’ big girl things,” Alfie calls from below. There’s an oddly proud yet affectionate twinkle in his eyes, which makes my heart somersault.

“Oh, shut it.” The roll of fabric tucked under my arm, I clamber down. 

Alfie puts his arm around my waist once I’m in reach, holding me tight while guiding me down. ‘‘C’mon, nice and safe on the ground. Next time, I’ll go up. No negotiatin’.” 

He continues to grumble under his breath about his leg and how he’s perfectly capable.

I giggle and pat his arm. “Okay, okay, no more ladders. Anyway, this is everything I need. If I start browsing, we’ll be here for quite some time.”

“Wouldn’t mind it.”

You say that now. Just you wait until I get going. You might regret it, love.

“But I want you to see more of my world.” I nudge his shoulder with mine. “My favourite bookshops are next, if you don’t mind.”

“Bookshop?” Alfie perks up.

“You like to read?”

“I do. Whenever I ain’t workin’, I’m down at Foyles. You ever been?”

“The one on Charing Cross Road?”

“Yeah, you know it?”

“I’ve been to London multiple times. ‘Course I know it. It’s one of my favourite spots in town.”

“We could spend a day there, if you fancy.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll show you my world. Not just me kingdom in Camden and Margate.”

I nod, abuzz with excitement. “I’d like that.”

Yay, a bookshop date!

“Good,” he purrs. “Good.”

While we wait as the fabric is being cut, I feel Alfie reaching for my hand again. Hesitantly, his fingers brush past mine, asking for permission. I wrap my fingers around his thumb, feeling like a silly girl yet indescribably pleased. After paying and receiving the plastic bag with the fabric, we step outside.

Me still holding his thumb.

“‘Appy?” Alfie asks once we step into the street.

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Right, now, let me check Maps to see how we need to get to ‘het Spui’.”

“That sounds funny.”

“What? Het Spui?”

“Yeah. What does it mean?”

“Ah dinnae ken.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I just know it’s where the Waterstones and American Book Centre are and that it’s close to Rokin.”

“You ‘ave Waterstones ‘ere?”

“We do, but only in Amsterdam.” I chuckle. “That’s another reason why I like England so much. There are Waterstoneses… Waterstone… multiple branches in one city.”

“Careful now. Don’t let the Irish hear ya.”

“Oi, no one does the book trade like the Irish. Although, I mean, Dublin is the best place bookshop-wise. The rest of the country does it, well, so so at best. Don’t tell them I said the English and Scots do it the best.”

“I won’t,” he muses. “Or else me and the London boys will take care of it.”

“There you go again, protecting me.”

“Because I’m fond on you.” I give him a quizzical look. Alfie squares his shoulders, each word perfectly clear and proud. “Yeah, you ‘eard me and I’ve no shame sayin’ it. I’m fond of ya, Y/N.’’

Regardless of it being nice to hear, the confession leaves me conflicted. I turn my face away from him, focusing on the road ahead. “Hm.”

You barely know me. We’re talking of me visiting you in England after only having met twice. Of dates like we’re a thing. I’m holding your hand like this because you make me happy, but I’m scared shitless at the same time.

Everything comes at a price and those who say they’ll stay or like you will end up leaving. People can’t be trusted, especially men. 

Men like him, who come on strong to women half their age making promises of a rosy future. And if they’re handsome, it makes you question where the line is. Perhaps, this time it’s different. This time he’s serious.

Until you get to the part where you’re talked into sex, the only thing they’ve wanted from you all along. Afterwards, you’re either discarded or as a piece of meat to satisfy their urges.

Chris wasn’t like that.

Or perhaps he is and I simply never found out. 

I suppose the walls I kept up left me too guarded, too blind to the possibilities with a wolf boy I used to call mine. Or maybe the solemn fort I have locked myself in has protected me from a gruesome yet sad truth.

Guess I’ll never find out.

Something squeezes the back of my neck.

My fingers hold air.

“… you, little dove?”

I frown, surprised to find ourselves on Rokin. It’s strange how your subconscious can be there and nowhere at the same time. How your body can move in a set direction while your mind wanders.

“Sorry, you were saying?” To hopefully add credit to my show of casualness, I look left and right to situate us.

“I wasn’t sayin’ anythin’. I was askin’ you where you were.”

“Just lost in thought.” I grab his thumb again and point across the street. “Right. We need to cross the road and take one of the side alleys.”

“Sure you were,” Alfie says, ignoring my directions and evidently not done with the topic. All the same, he lets me guide him. “Lyin’, right, ain’t proper. Now, then, tell me what funny thought you ‘ad.”

Halfway.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does!” Little specks of spittle fly through the air while some get stuck in his beard.

Safely across.

“It fuckin’ matters to me! Look at me. I said,” he grabs my face like he did earlier today when I don’t, coercing me into looking at him, “look at me. I, yeah, ‘ave been nothin’ but ‘onest with you. I care, right? I bloody care about you.”

“You’re only saying that.”

“Why would I, eh? Why would I?”

I pry myself loose, hardly finding any resistance as I wrap my fingers around his wrist and push him away. In hopes of concealing my shaking shoulders, trembling with hardly contained sobs, I try to keep my voice even. Nonetheless, I can’t prevent it from cracking with each word. “This is only a joke, innit? Just some charade to talk me into sex.”

Eyes wide with disbelief, he gawks at me. “You think that’s what this is?”

One step forward.

One step back.

“You fuckin’ think that?”

“A girl can’t be too careful around men, Alfie.”

“If I wanted sex, right, only sex, then tell me why I feel like this. Why, right now, it feels like me chest is being ripped open and me ticker pulled out of it, put right through the fuckin’ shredder. Why I feel like there’s a brick in me stomach and a ball of cotton in me throat each time you drift off or seem upset. Fuckin’ tell me!” His chest rises and falls in quick succession, nostrils flaring and panting plush lips parted. There’s a crack in his voice too when he continues. “Tell me because I don’t understand it.”

“You feel that way?’’ I sniffle, blinking away the tears obscuring my vision. ‘‘You’re not pulling my leg or anything?”

Give me one thing to believe. Prove to me I’m wrong, that it’s different this time. That this is real. Legit.

“Fuck, Y/N! I would never lie to you. I swear so on every holy book in this damned world.” He points at the bag in my hands, his rings reflecting the sunlight. “If you don’t believe me, smack me with that. If you do, come closer.”

I’m a little stupid.

So, after a moment of assessing him, I step forward.

And place my hands in his as he closes the distance.

“Can this old chap be really selfish?”

“Don’t cross the line.”

Alfie leans in, nudging my nose with his. Our lips brush past each other, his whiskers ticklish against mine. “Is this?”

“No.”

His lips are soft and tender, genuine in their affection. I answer the kiss in kind and cup his cheek, feeling how he leans into the touch. I clutch his shirt, holding on tight to the fabric with determined fists. A warm palm rests on the small of my back, pulling me further against him.

Further into our own world.

From which we have to retreat sooner than expected.

He’s the one to break away, to let the moment end with a shivery breath longing for more and a kiss on the tip of my nose. “I’d never touch you, yeah, without your permission. I’ll wait till you’re ready, but know this ain’t about sex for me. I won’t lie and say it wouldn’t be a nice addition to what we ‘ave. But this, right ‘ere, us, it’s about you. That kiss? Because I like you. Fuckin’ ‘ell, that don’t even begin to describe it.”

“Same here.”

“Yeah, you like me too?”

I bite my lip and nod.

He lets out a pleased sound holding the middle between an amused chuckle and satisfied hum. “Glad to ‘ear it because I ‘ave plans for us. Speakin’ of which, I ‘ave one right now. One which involves you givin’ me one more?’’ He taps his slightly swollen lips. ‘‘For the road?”

“Sure,” I say, smiling into the gentle peck he steals.

“Can’t get too greedy.”

Fingers entwined, we leave the argument behind us and crack on with renewed vigour.

On to the next moment.

Since Alfie is more than familiar with Waterstones, I propose going to The American Book Centre first. I hear him take in a short sharp breath like he’s preparing himself for a difficult task before he makes to cross the plaza. Using my body, I gently redirect us to walk around it instead. 

Brows knitted together, he looks down at me.

“The cobblestones,” I point to the side. “They’re uneven.”

He lightly squeezes my hand as he hums in gratitude.

We walk towards the bookshop, where Alfie holds the front door open for me. I shuffle through the small opening and he follows closely behind.

Before us is a big round open space lined with magazines. A man is leaving through a gardening-related one while a girl sits on the steps with the latest issue of a gossip one. On our left are tables and a small section with books related to tattoos and the art of tattooing. In front of us and to the right, next to the tills, are racks with stationary.

A soft groan falls from his lips when Alfie spots the big staircase leading to the first floor. Walking already takes a heavy toll on his leg, so I can only imagine the amount of pain he has to suffer through when climbing stairs. A stone sinks to the bottom of my stomach when I recall how he had to pay the price for straining himself too much yesterday.

And I refuse to put him through that again.

“There’s a lift.” I nod to the other side of the shop.

“Would you…” he begins, hesitant yet suggestive. Though I know little about him, I have noticed it’s difficult for him to admit his weaknesses. 

“I’m claustrophobic, but I’ll brave it for you.”

He pets my hair and wraps his fingers around the back of my neck. “Attagirl.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding when we arrive on the first floor.

“Proud of ya,” Alfie murmurs into my hair, kissing the top of my head.

“I’m glad to be out in the open again, not gonna lie. Anyways, here we have fantasy, sci-fi, crime, thrillers, young adult and the romance section. Upstairs are the non-fiction, general fiction, spiritual, drama, poetry sections.” The mechanical whirring of a coffee grinder resonates loudly in the background. “Right, there’s also a wee café here.”

He looks around, leaning on his cane. “What do you like to read, darlin’?”

A warm fuzzy feeling spreads in my chest at his bright expression. It would seem we are both in our natural habitats, a place where our worlds overlap. 

“Well, I’ve found myself drawn more towards general fiction since my studies. Even then, though, I still pick up canon literature. Call me a bloody classist, but they don’t write like the writers of old anymore.” I smile wistfully as we walk among the shelves and navigate among the other customers. “They don’t write letters either.”

“What did you study?”

“English literature with a particular interest in Irish lit.”

“What a surprise,” he chuckles.

“Oi, say what you will, but it’s hard for me to find anyone who writes like W.B. Yeats and James Joyce.”

“Favourite books?”

“A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man and The Picture of Dorian Gray. Hands down the best. And my professor was right about the former. It was life-changing.” A wave of peace and contentment washes over me as I recall the feelings the novel instigated, my mind filled with the memories of the moments I could identify myself in Stephen Dedalus. “I finally felt understood. Found someone with the same vision. I felt… legit? No, that’s not the word. Ehm, what’s it called again when you feel like you finally matter? Are part of something?”

“Validated?”

“Yes! Validated. I felt validated. I should re-read it, actually.”

“Out of pleasure or,’’ his shoulders drop as he slows his pace, ‘‘a need to be accepted?”

“Both, perhaps,” I admit.

Because the world has little to no place for people like me. Not anymore.

“I see you.” We come to a halt at the end of the rampway. Alfie lets go of my hand to brush my cheek. “I am curious about your mind. Your vision. The artist within.”

“She’s a little twisted.”

“Likely less than me.”

“Read Acts of Desperation. I think it could enlighten you a little about how she thinks and feels.”

“Maybe I should pick it up then, eh, if we ‘appen to find it.”

We saunter back over to the grand staircase to check out the romance section. Usually I skip it, but occasionally I like to see what titles are currently being published and what type of stories publishers are apparently looking for.

“Anything you recommend?”

“Ollie would be havin’ a bubble if ‘e ‘eard this, but” Alfie sighs and bites his lip, “I like Jenny Colgan’s books.”

I blink, gobsmacked by his answer. “Jenny Colgan? Small town romances concerned with bakeries and bookshops Jenny Colgan?”

He shifts his weight, groaning in discomfort. “Don’t tell anyone, alright? It’s a guilty pleasure. A more innocent vice, basically. But otherwise I can recommend The Half Drowned King by Linnea Hartsuyker or The Last Kingdom by Bernard Cornwell. Recently I also picked up this book called River Kings. Can’t remember who wrote it. It tracks the heritage of a certain bead and shines a light on the Viking expeditions to the east.”

Unable to help myself, I clap my hands in excitement. “That one’s so good!”

“You read it?”

“Yeah, picked it up during my last trip to Ireland. In Cork. I normally don’t like non-fiction, but give me anything to do with Vikings and you make me one happy lass.” I calm down a bit and lead him back up the ramp forming the walkway between the sci-fi, horror, and fantasy sections. “I don’t really like fantasy. High fantasy, that is. Take Ben Aaronovitch’s books, for example. Those I like. In fact, I recommend them.”

Alfie scans the shelves, focusing in on the row with the author’s name. “Which one’s the first? Or are they standalones?”

“They’re a series of standalones connected by a red thread. The first is called Rivers of London.”

“This one, then.” He picks the title off of the shelf and fishes a pair of glasses from his backpack to read the backside. “Interesting. I’m also not one for fantasy, but I’ll admit this sounds good.”

Oh, come on. This ain’t fair. How? How does he look so fucking good in glasses?

Unashamed, I gawk at him. First a kiss and a somewhat love confession and now this is being thrown at me. I swear, if someone is going to pinch me and I jolt awake to find this was all a dream, I will go ballistic.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” He squints as he reads me, looking for an answer before I can give it.

“Your glasses.” I point at the thin golden frame on his nose. “I didn’t know you had them.”

“I’m far-sighted, so these readin’ glasses take the strain off me eyes. Also got a blue-light filter in ‘em.”

“Staring a lot at the screen, eh?”

“More than you think. When I’m not drawing, I have either a book or my e-reader in me ‘ands. There’s somethin’ about readin’ late into the night. The world’s silent. Even this fuckin’ city finally calms down a bit the same way London tends to go quiet at nightfall.”

“I really need to get back into reading. I mean, I keep buying books yet always end up never reading them. Or, rather, I end up reading a few. My bank account’s not happy.”

We head back to the lift, taking the walkway instead of the wee stairs to spare Alfie’s leg. While waiting, I grab his thumb, but evidently Alfie has other ideas and weaves his fingers through mine. 

Inside the tiny cabin, he gives them an encouraging squeeze and another one when we step out onto the second floor. 

As Alfie browses the history section, I explore the general fiction section. As per usual, I stop in my tracks to scan the shelves with the books which are on sale. After all, there could be an absolute steal among them. Furthermore, it seems I’m in luck because the three racks are well-stocked. Crouched in front of it, I pluck out a few titles to read their backsides and put a few aside to take with me.

“You know your account ain’t ‘appy with ya. Yet ‘ere you are, five books in your little hands,” a familiar raspy voice remarks, stern yet amused.

My heart somersaults into next week as my soul leaves my body. I scramble to my feet, jaw clenched and ears ablaze with shame. “They’re discounted.”

“I bet you say that every time you’re ‘ere.

I nuzzle into the scarf around my neck to hide my rosy cheeks. “Shut up.”

“C’mon, give me those.” He beckons for me to give him the books in my hands.

I take a step back. “No.”

He rests his hands on the silver wolf head handle of his cane. “At least four out of five will gather dust on your shelves. Said so yourself, didn’t ya? Go on. Pick one and put the rest back.”

“Hang on a minute.”

“I’m keeping your finances ‘ealthy, darlin’. One book. Pick wisely.”

“Alfie.” Sullen like a child denied a piece of candy, I pout.

“Don’t be silly.” He tilts my chin upwards, voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Wolfy knows best.”

“Why do you have to be right?” I turn away and crouch to do as he says.

After a while of making comparisons, asking myself how likely I’ll actually be to read it, and comparing prices, I pick Nightshade by Annalena McAfee. At this point you can almost call it typical how I find myself drawn to the tormented artist.

“This one.” I hold up the novel.

“Let me know whether it’s good. In fact, never ‘esitate to tell me ‘bout what you’re readin’. Don’t matter if it’s my taste or not.”

“The same goes for you.” I narrow my eyes as a thought pops up. “Hey, just as a question, considering what you told me. Did… You tattooed me without glasses.”

“I wore lenses that day. Tried them out, really. Optician said I technically don’t need ‘em, but I thought I’d give them a spin anyway. Don’t ya worry. I would never tattoo someone if I’m as blind as Sheishet.’’

“And?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “And what?”

“Do you prefer them? The lenses, I mean.”

Gods, he’s absolute hubby material.

“Would you?”

“No,” I shyly admit, sharing his taste.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t.” He smiles brightly. “So Wolfy will stick to glasses.”

We head downstairs to check out. As at Starbucks, it’s him who pays. 

I try to get him to hand over his purchases - two books on Vikings in England - but fail. In Alfie’s words, I should think of my wallet rather than him. Also, ‘‘it ain’t proper for a woman to pay when she’s on a date with a gentleman, innit?’’

The attempt to tap my phone on the pin machine before he can with his card is as successful, kept back by the waist by a bear-like hand.

Purchases paid for, we head to the wee café upstairs. Alfie buys us two cappuccinos and a scone to share. Sighing in pure contentment, he plops down in the seat across from me. A dreamy look in his eyes, he gazes out through the window to the world below.

“Happy?”

“I am,” he mumbles. “A déja vu is a strange thing, innit? You’re in a moment that may or may not ‘ave ‘appened, maybe somethin’ you dreamt about in your sleep or in a daydream. Or it could be a moment your soul has lived, remembers, right, from a past life.”

“Did you have one just now?”

“I think I did… yeah.” He nods, slowly descending into one of the deep rabbit holes his thoughts create. “Wrong location, though. Different. Always different. Sometimes the same.”

“Can you recall anything else? Or, rather, do you have an inkling of what else goes on, went on, usually?”

“Always the same yet different,” he mumbles in response, cryptic.

I cut the scone in two and push the plate against his forearm to grab his attention. “Eat. If you don’t, I’ll eat the whole thing.”

“Crack on.” Features soft, he turns away from the window.

“I’m only joking. That focaccia wasn’t proper lunch. C’mon, dig in.”

“I’m not pullin’ your leg, Y/N. Eat.” He fishes his tablet from his backpack, ready to retreat in his own bubble again albeit with one foot across the border of reality. 

To stay with me too. 

My mouth dries up, throat constricted with his words. Alfie glances at me through his lashes, exhales, and reaches out to bring my fingers to his lips. The steam from our coffees is warm against my palm. “Don’t ya worry, I’ll eat tonight.”

“You’re beautiful,” I blurt out.

“What?”

“You don’t have to watch your figure.”

“Y/N…”

“You’re perfect as you are.” I sit up a bit to lean over the table and caress his cheek. “Scruffy wolf.”

“You forget, little darlin’, the old wolf is a king. That is, anywhere but when ‘e’s with the little dove.”

“What is he then?”

“A humble servant.” He nuzzles my palm. “A guard dog. Faithful.”

I retract my hand to take a sip of coffee. It’s warm, the milk feather soft and foamy.

A comfortable silence naturally descends between us. He draws while I look out the window, gazing into the distance.

If this is what living slow is like, there is no other type of life I’d want. 

“Alfie, I’m scared,” I say after a while.

He looks up from his tablet, eyebrows raised. “Of what?”

“Of going home.’’ Biting my lip, I stare into my cappuccino. ‘‘Is it selfish of me to say I don’t want to?”

“No,” he sits back and shakes his head, “it ain’t.”

“I think my parents have figured out by now I’m not at the fabric market.”

“Would it help if I introduce myself to them?”

“You don’t have to. We haven’t known each other that long.”

“Afraid I won’t behave?” His eyes are alight with mischief as a cheeky grin slowly spreads on his lips.

“Hm, maybe a little bit.”

Besides, how am I gonna explain you, a forty-five year old tattoo artist? Although, rather, the question is how or whether I’ll be able to explain how happy you make me.

And convince them and myself both that this is real.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He runs his fingers through his beard, already cooking up a plan. “Gonna have to do somethin’ ‘bout this. Gotta present the perfect picture, ain’t I?”

“Don’t shave. I like your beard.” Though I have nothing against clean-shaven men, I have no shame in admitting I like them better when they have facial hair. Especially when it’s more than a little scruff.

The way Alfie does it.

“I think I’ll have to go short and go with a stubble. It’ll only be for a short while, Y/N. You’ll get your scruffy wolf back, don’t ya worry.”

“It’s fine as it is,’’ I say, making an effort to keep my voice low. ‘‘Looks great, in fact.”

He chuckles at my determination. “I’m not sure your parents would agree.”

“They wouldn’t if it was like this bushy, unkempt wizard beard.”

“So, the previous version. What I had in Birmingham.”

“What? No! That wasn’t a wizard beard.”

“It was kinda unkempt, though. Rushed to get to the studio and be on time for you.”

“It was fine. And you didn’t.”

Don’t start bootlicking. It’ll get you nowhere. ‘Sides, you’ve likely used that line before.

“I did. Well, not at first, since I didn’t know what kind of person I’d be dealin’ with. But,” his expression softens with warm tenderness, “that was before the wolf knew what the little dove was like.”

I tap the sides of my cup, head bowed to hide the way I still can’t fully trust him. That I’m conflicted by his words, kisses, and other gestures. “And now?”

Where is the line? Why can’t I stop awaiting the moment this will all fall apart?

“Now ‘e’s gonna sit back and draw ‘is little dove while she eats a scone and reads. Slow day, remember?”

“I do.” His expression falters, devoid of emotion as his eyes glaze over. “Alfie?”

After a moment of not getting a response and too desperate to think about proper manners, I snap my fingers. “Alfie? You with me?”

“Yeah… yeah, I am,” he drawls, slowly returning to wherever his mind wandered. “Just ‘ad another dèja vu.”

“Or low blood sugar.” I cut the scone in half. “Please eat. If not the whole thing, at least eat bloody half of it. In the meantime, I’ll see if I can find a good place for dinner, eh.”

He leans in to wedge the half between his teeth, a few crumbs crumbling down into his beard.

“Charming,” I snort. “By the way, just in case, you eat kosher, right?”

“Mhm,” Alfie answers, mouth full.

“Good to know.”

While he draws, I scour the Internet for a restaurant that offers food according to our dietary wishes. Although, I’m more critical about whether they have kosher food rather than plenty vegetarian or vegan options. After some thorough research and a quick glance at the menu, having decided to forego my own diet, I settle for Meat Me Kosher.

“Alfie?”

“Hm?” He briefly stops drawing to show he’s heard me. Without looking up from his tablet, he signals with his stylus he’s waiting for me to continue.

“Coffee.”

“Mh,” he hums, taking a moment to nip at the cappuccino that’s likely to have gone cold in the meantime. Or, with luck, it’s still lukewarm.

I pretend to divulge in the novel I bought and my half of the scone. However, in reality, I’m glad Alfie’s caught up in his own bubble because it gives me the opportunity to unashamedly watch him. Lips pursed or moving with inaudible words, he looks down at his tablet like the masters of old did at their canvases. The pencil glides over the screen, his thick fingers occasionally tapping it in annoyance when something isn’t as envisioned.

After a while, he lets out a deep sigh and puts his tablet into his bag again. In its stead, he pulls out the book I recommended him, puts it on the table, and takes another sip of his cappuccino. Immediately, he scowls. “Pizdets.”

“What?” Feigning innocence, I glance at him from over the edge of my book.

“Gone cold. Be right back.” He gets up, briefly places his hand on my head, and walks over to the counter to order a new cappuccino.

Looking like a satisfied bear, he returns a few moments later.

“Happy?”

“Almost.”

“Almost?” I repeat, incredulous.

What’s missing? Did I do anything wrong? Is there something I can do?

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he takes a sip. Humming in delight, chuffed with the warm drink, he sits down and reaches out. “Give me your ‘and.”

Wary of his intention, I slowly do as he says. 

My breath hitches when his warm palm encloses my fingers and gives them a light squeeze. “Now I am.”

Albeit a bit clumsy, we continue to sit like that while we read, drink coffee, and, eventually, finish the scone.

Barely do we let go of each other, closely glued at the hip while we navigate Amsterdam. Even as we arrive at the restaurant, I’m still holding onto him. 

Alfie appreciates I've chosen a kosher place, but something in the way he orders for us both and shares his food with me betrays his own thoughts. He basically feeds me the entire falafel table we have as a starter, barely touching it himself. 

“‘Ere, try this,” he says, holding out his fork when our mains are served.

And again it trembles.

“Your hand’s shaking,” I remark, leaning in to snag the piece of pargiot off of it.

“Is it? ‘Aven’t noticed.”

“What’s eating at you?”

“Well, currently, you. You’re eatin’ off me fork, aren’t ya?” The feigned amusement fades when I give him a displeased look. He clears his throat and wipes his mouth on his napkin. “Right. First, yeah, let me say I appreciate it you goin’ out of your way for me. You truly didn’t ‘ave to pick a kosher place.”

“Course I did. Gotta take your diet into account. We’re out together. Can’t just pick any place without checking whether you’d be able to eat anything.”

“But you need to account for yourself too, Y/N. Do you ‘onestly like the food ‘ere? You weren’t so keen anymore when you saw the menu, were ya?”

“I normally eat vegetarian, true, but not out of any convictions. So, you know, every once in a while, I’ll gladly deviate. Besides, there are some tasty things on the menu I can eat. Sure, it’s only the starters, but, really, I don’t mind. Plus, this is some proper food.”

My words offer little comfort. Knuckles white with restrained violent sombreness, he clenches his cutlery. “Don’t put me before yourself.”

“Neither should you,” I say, calmly cutting the chicken leg on my plate.

But the act soon falls apart when he slams his fist on the table. A few people turn in their seats, curious about what is going on at our table. However, as at the convention, it only takes a deadly glare to make them mind their own business again.

Lips pulled into a straight line, Alfie turns his ice cold gaze to me. A shiver runs down my spine, triggering the fight or flight instinct. Nonetheless, I clench my jaw and make an effort to control my breathing. I have to stay put, to be brave. After all, he won’t hurt me.

I hope.

“Fignya! I will, whether you like it or not.”

Stop acting like you mean it. It feels good to be with you, but this won’t last. It isn’t real, despite what you said.

“What language is that?” Feigning ignorance, I take a sip from my ginger ale.

“‘Ow’d you mean?”

“That word before the statement with which, mind you, I strongly disagree.”

“Russian.’’ A faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he sits back. His rigid posture loosens as the tension leaves his body. ‘‘Thought I’d stir it up a bit and pose my clever little dove another challenge.”

“As if I’m that good at Yiddish.”

“You seem to understand me very well when I speak it, though. Don’t discredit yourself. You’re a smart woman.”

“I guess I’m posing you quite the challenge too.” Absent-mindedly, I tap the sides of my glass.

“Are you? I wasn’t aware of one.”

“Loving me. Or, rather, being with me like this when I keep having these nagging doubts I can’t seem to silence. I know what you said and I desperately want to believe you, but… you know… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m, yeah… sorry for being such a downer.”

“Oh, Y/N, no.” Alfie gets up, face pale with anguish and saunters over to crouch at my side. A grimace briefly flashes over his face when a fresh surge of pain rushes through his leg. “I’m ‘avin’ a wonderful time, for the first time in a very, very bloody long while. And I’d not want, right, to spend this time with anyone, any-fuckin’-one but you. I’ll put myself before you because I want to. Because if there’s one thing I can and want to do in this damned world, it’s to take care of you. I’m fond of you, my dear. Never doubt that.” He pokes my head, but the smile on his lips does not quite reach his eyes. “I’ll say it every time we meet. Fuck, I’ll tell you until the words finally register in that funny and pretty little ‘ead of yours. And even after it ‘as, I’ll tell ya.”

I lift one of his hands from my knee and place it against my cheek, hands wrapped around his wrist to keep it in place. The honesty in his voice isn’t a farce, too determined and true to be an act. It renders me silent, only capable of showing I am listening through gestures like this.

“This is real, yeah? You. Me. Us ‘ere. All real.” With gentle force he pulls me towards him, his nose giving mine an accidental nudge when we’re closer than he evidently planned. In his defence, he isn’t wearing glasses. “All real.”

“All real,” I repeat, blinking away the tears brimming on my lashes.

“Attagirl.”

During the rest of our dinner we talk about the small things like books we’ve read and places we’d like to visit one day. Alfie regales me with stories of his travels around the world, be it because of a guest spot or for leisure. One day, he hopes to travel to Japan.

Eventually, the conversation turns to conventions. After all, I have to know when the next time will be when we can meet.

“There’s a tattoo convention in Utrecht in October. Halloween weekend,” I say while a server clears our table and the wait for dessert begins.

“Too short notice. Got appointments, I think. Ollie knows for sure. Keeps my agenda.”

“Brussels in November?” There are no other ones I’ll be able to visit that still take place this year. The anticipation of a negative answer creates a heavy weight in my chest, slowly crushing my heart.

“Would you like me to?” His eyes glisten when I nod, frantic in my desperation. A slow lopsided smirk spreads on his lips. “Then I’ll make it ‘appen.”

Alfie is the one to pay the bill yet again, hijacking the server’s pin machine by playfully dismissing my debit card with a waving gesture. Afterwards, he helps me into my jacket before putting on his coat and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. Holding my hand, we walk into the chill evening air to make the journey back to his hotel and the central station.

Along the way, he pulls out his Vape. Nevertheless, whereas he used it without care yesterday, he now thumbs the device and puts it away.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind,” I say, having noticed his hesitation.

“Nah, I think I should quit. Vices aren’t good, Y/N. They’ll only tear you asunder.”

The homebound journey comes to an end too soon for in about half an hour we’ve reached the imposing and elegant building of the hotel Alfie’s staying at.

“Well, I guess this is it.” We come to a halt in front of the stairs leading up to the entrance. I let go of his hand, turn, and look up at him. “Thank you for today. I had- I really had fun.”

For the first time in a very long while.

The last time was with a wolf boy at my side.

“Glad to ‘ear it.” He spreads his arms. “Can I get a ‘ug as a reward?”

I burrow into his coat as he wraps me up in his warm strong arms. For a few moments we remain like that, standing there yet adrift in our own world. An idyllic moment to cherish later.

Although reluctant, I eventually force myself to put some distance between us. Placing my hands on his chest to use as leverage, I gently slip from his grasp. If I don’t, I fear neither of us would ever leave. “I should go home.”

“Don’t.”

“Alfie, I don’t have any pyjamas or toothpaste or-’’

“No need to worry, darlin’. I think we can remedy that.”

He drags me along into the hotel lobby. My common sense urges me to resist, but the need for more time together and unwillingness to leave makes me pliable. Ready to give into our shared whim.

“Uhm, sir, I’m sorry, but no guests are allowed after ten o’clock,” the front desk worker says, standing up as she trails our movements towards the elevator.

“Guest?” Alfie stops in his tracks and turns towards the poor woman, who goes pale the moment his eyes centre on her. “She ain’t no guest. This ‘ere, yeah,” he points at me, half hidden behind him, “is my companion. Simply isn’t checked in, but I’m sure that won’t be a problem, innit?”

“Sir, I apologise-’’

I squeeze his hand when I feel the first trembles of rage coursing through his fingers. He briefly turns to me, his frown slightly softening when our eyes meet. “Breathe. I’ll go. You have my number.”

“No, you ain’t goin’ anywhere. It’s startin’ to get dark out and who knows what lurks in the shadows, eh? ‘Sides, I’m sure you’ll enjoy my little plan.”

“At least stay polite.”

“Fine.” He takes a deep breath and turns back towards the front desk. “Can I ‘ave a word with the manager?”

“Y- Yes, sir. I’ll- I’ll go get him.” Meek and hurried, she dials up her supervisor.

Without so much as a second thought, I squeeze his hand again and murmur words I hadn’t expected to use in relation to him. “Good boy.”

“Hm,” he returns the gesture, his voice lowered to a purr, “can be nice.”

A little while later, a man clad in a striped suit appears around the corner of the lobby.

“Evelien, is there a problem?” he asks in Dutch, glancing at the terrified woman. Her expression speaks volumes, so his attention automatically shifts to us.

“What ‘e ask?” Alfie leans in.

“Whether there’s a problem,” I translate.

“Mister Solomons,” the manager starts in what I can only describe as Dunglish. It’s occasionally duped Louis Van Gaal Engels, named after the terrible English spoken by one of our more famous soccer coaches. I’d argue Mark Rutte comes close to it too. Of course there are plenty others who sound and are as terrible at the language as them, but those two men take the crown when it comes to making my toes curl with cringe. “Is there a problem?”

Oh gods, please shut up.

“Yeah, there is,” Alfie grumbles. “Apparently, it’s not allowed to ‘ave my girl with me. Sure, she ain’t checked in, but there’s plenty space in my room. Now, she’s ‘ad a long day and it ain’t safe to send her back on ‘er own at this time of day. Considerin’ that, I offered she stay with me, yeah, because it ain’t safe to let a woman wander on ‘er own in the dark. Surely you understand.” He takes a few steps towards the manager, looming over him. “Right, little man?”

The manager opens and closes his mouth, chasing words that remain elusive. Eyes wide with panic, he awkwardly clears his throat. “Of- Of course, mister Solomons. She can stay. Would you, ah, do you need extra… towels?”

“Good man.” Alfie puts a hand on the manager’s shoulder. “I’m glad we see eye to eye.”

Leaving the question about the towels unanswered, he grabs my hand again and leads us to the elevator. I’ll be honest, despite my statement earlier today, I am unashamedly happy he has used his status to prolong our time together.

“Why were you bristlin’?” he asks when we are out of earshot of the now both very pale hotel employees.

“His English.” Alfie’s expression goes slack, eyebrows knitted together. “Not every Dutch person is great at English to the level they have an, I suppose, native-like accent like me. Most transfer the regular monotone Dutch speech pattern to their English, which makes it very flat. And I just can’t stand it.”

“Funny. You’re not even English and yet you react like you are.” He chuckles while we head to the elevator. “You’re a very strange woman.”

“You’re not the first to say that.”

“Oliver Cromwell.”

“Don’t mention that name,” I snap.

Alfie laughs at my outburst. “Are you sure you’re not Irish?”

The doors open and we get in. He pushes the button for his floor.

I lean against the wall, arms crossed. “Maybe in a past life. As you said yesterday, history has a funny way of repeating itself.”

“You think we met? Our past selves?”

“Who’s to say?” I avoid his gaze, trying to fathom who and what we could’ve been.

“Ir zent bakant far mir.”

Ik ben bekend voor je? What’s that in English again? Familiar! I’m familiar to you?

“In what sense?”

“I don’t know, darlin’.” The doors open and we step into the hallway. I match my pace to his as we make our way to his room. “Perhaps it doesn’t feel like it to you, but to me, right, it’s like I’ve known you for a long time.”

It’s starting to feel like that for me too. And I’m not sure yet I like it.

“I can’t say the same,” I say, entering the room as Alfie holds the door open. His gaze is cold, boring into my back. When I turn to him, leaning against the wall, his blue eyes have gone vacant and dull. Although, upon closer inspection, they rather seem haunted and hiding a grim pain he has carefully locked away. “Not yet, at least.”

“Right,” he murmurs. “I’ll run you a bath, yeah. It’s been a long day.”

“Alfie, don’t be like this.” I grab his wrist as he moves past me. “I just need more time. This is all new to me and I’m scared.”

He frees himself from my grip, mumbling to himself. “Eyn tog ir ken gedenken mir. Oder ir vet nit. Es tut nit enin enimor. Ir keynmol hobn fryer, azoy vos volt ir itst?”

He storms off to the bathroom. A few seconds later, I can hear the tap running.

A frog in my throat, I settle down on the edge of the bed. I hang my head and weave my fingers through my hair, quivering bottom lip caught between my teeth and my breath shallow.

One day I’ll… gedenken? In English, is that the same as remembering, remembrance? One day I can remember you? Or… Or not? It doesn’t something.

As for the last part, neither Dutch or my high school level German can help translate.

My vision becomes watery as his annoyed yet sombre words echo in my ears. We came this far. He’s got me in his room, the farce he put up broken the moment I don’t agree with him.

What the fuck am I doing? I already pissed him off. I should go. I’ll think of an excuse and shoot him a message. Yeah. Okay, gotta be fast.

I stand up and grab my bags. However, the second I turn towards the door, Alfie pops back into the room. Standing in the doorway, he takes me in. “What’re you doin’?”

An involuntary sob escapes me. Immediately he saunters over, a look of shock on his face when I take a step back. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Another step forward.

Another one back.

“Talk to-’’

“Step back.”

“What?”

“Step the fuck back,” I roar, on the verge of breaking down completely. He does as I say, hands held in the air in surrender. “And don’t follow me. Don’t try to stop me.”

But of course he does. 

The idea was to walk around him with a bow and bolt out the door, take the stairs, run outside and straight to the station. Alfie, however, grabs me by the arm and pulls me flush against him, arms locking me in place. His heart is thundering in my ear, chest rising and falling quickly with the effort it takes to make me stop struggling.

“Calm- No- Calm- Y/N, calm down!” He caresses my hair, lips pressed to the top of my head and his voice stern yet worried and kind. “What was the plan, eh? You’ve gone fuckin’ mad if you think I’ll let you walk out that door without tellin’ me what the fuck you’re playin’ at. Tell me, yeah? Tell Papa Solomons what funny thin’ you were tryin’ to do.”

My breath tapers, knowing there’s no way out now. I swallow hard, hardly able to form coherent and audible sentences. “I- I’m- I thought you were mad at me.”

He presses another kiss on the crown of my head, softly swaying to help me calm down faster. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of what you just said. In Yiddish.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I-’’

“Oh, darlin’, if I were angry with you, I’d say it in a language you understand.”

“Better start learning Dutch, then.”

“I’ll tell you in English until I can. Even so,” he presses a kiss on my forehead and then tips my chin up so he can kiss away the stray tears rolling down my cheeks, “I promise I’ll never, yeah, never get angry with you.”

“So, what- what happened yesterday wasn’t- when I went to get coffee and after-’’

“No, I wasn’t angry with you. I was simply being a stupid old man ragin’ at life.” He tightens the embrace and cradles my head. “It wasn’t because of you.”

“Alfie, is it- No, never mind.”

It’s too early to say I love you.

“Nah, none of that.’’ He stops moving. ‘‘Tell me. What did ya wanna ask?”

“Nothing. Let’s leave it be. Thank you for running me a bath.” I wriggle out of his grip and rub his forearms lovingly. “I’ll go enjoy it.”

He rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed and his hands on my waist. “If you need anythin’, just shout.”

“I will.”

He tentatively presses his lips against mine, shaking with the strain of not bursting out in a fit. However, it doesn’t feel like anger.

More like deep-seated sorrow.

“Don’t forget this.” He lets go of me to rummage in the closet, pulling out a white hoodie with his studio’s logo embroidered on the left side on the front. He turns it around so I can see the back, which depicts a fierce Fenrir devouring the sun. “I ‘aven’t worn it yet, so it’s still fresh. It might be a bit big, but it’ll keep you warm. There’s also an extra toothbrush on the sink, the blue one. You can use my toothpaste. Oh, there’s also micellar water. I use it for me skin, but it’s also good to remove makeup with I ‘eard.”

“It is. Thank you, Alfie.”

He looks at me and nods, a grateful grunt erupting from his throat. ‘‘Told ya I had a plan.’’

Hoodie draped over my arm, I head to the bathroom.

The bath water is the exact right temperature, hot yet not enough so to scorch your skin. Like our silences, it’s comfortable. I undress and hop into the lavendel-scented tub.

Submerged into the water up to my chin, I repeat the conversations we had today in my head. Because I’m still waiting for the catch. A sign this is either a cruel joke or a feverish dream.

Apparently, it’s not allowed to ‘ave my girl with me.

This is real, yeah? You. Me. Us ‘ere. All real.

If I wanted sex, right, only sex, then tell me why I feel like this. Why, right now, it feels like me chest is being ripped open and me ticker pulled out of it, put right through the fuckin’ shredder. Why I feel like there’s a brick in me stomach and a ball of cotton in me throat each time you drift off or seem upset. Fuckin’ tell me!

There truly was a crack in his voice.

Tell me because I don’t understand it.

“Me neither, Alfie,” I mumble to myself. “Me neither.”

I raise my leg to admire Anubis, the first god to grace my skin.

We created a bloody masterpiece, ‘aven’t we?

He sounded incredibly proud, not of himself but of us both. The same genuine delight I spotted in the various little smiles he tried to suppress.

When I climbed down the ladder. Put back the books. Drank coffee while he was drawing, half concealed by his tablet.

When we broke away after that first kiss.

The feeling of his beard is still vividly imprinted on my lips, which grow ticklish as soon as I trace them. My cheeks remember the warmth of his hands, a bit rough yet affectionate and secure.

I close my eyes, inhale deeply and let out the breath after holding it for a moment.

Maybe I should have a little faith. Take the gamble with you.

I wash my hair with his shampoo, rinse it out, dry off, and put on my improvised pyjamas. All the while, I can’t shake off the idea of taking a bath together.

I’d lean against his chest, sturdy yet grown soft and supple with neglected muscle. Our fingers would lazily fumble with each other, tracing shapes or the tattoos on our skin. He could dry me off and dress me after wrapping me up in a cocoon of towels. Maybe carry me to bed, curled up in his arms like a small child.

Back in the room, Alfie is leaning against the headboard and drawing on his tablet. His glasses balance on the bridge of his nose. He sits up when he hears me enter, trailing my movements as I do.

“I know, I know,” I flail my arms, clutching the hems of the sleeves to maintain my sweater paws, “it looks about as flattering as a sack.”

He puts his tablet on the bedside table and places his glasses on top of it. “Not at all. C’mere, let me look at ya.”

I approach his side of the bed, taking slow steps towards where he’s sitting. As soon as I’m in arm’s reach, he pulls me down on his lap. To not smack head-first into his face, I steady myself by grabbing his shoulders. Hands on my waist, he holds me in place. “Mhm. Yeah.”

“Alfie?” He tilts his head, his hands trailing lower to my thighs. A shiver runs down my spine when his rough calloused palms glide over my skin, culminating in the growing warmth between my legs. I run my fingers along his jaw and beard, scratching it in the way he likes and makes his expression go hazy with distant dreams. “Wolfy? Ah- hm~”

His lips crash into mine, feverish and hungry, as he grinds my hips on his. A pleasant dizziness sets in, created by the few seconds he allows me to draw breath and his unashamed desire. A faint throbbing and hardening sensation is tangible through the thick denim of his jeans, wanton and yet longing to be closer.

Alfie swipes his tongue over my lower lip and gives my nose a little nudge with his to ask permission for more.

And more I readily grant him because, like him, I’m also guilty of subjecting to greed. I suppose that even in our sins we are united. 

The faint taste of the chocolates we had with our after dinner coffees mixed with his cologne and the underlying plea in his expression strangles each logical thought. 

There’s only here, a safe haven without consequences or concerns.

Only us, two people who seem to have found one another after a long time apart.

I surrender to the guidance of his hands, steadily rocking my hips against his to further put my underwear to shame. The dominance of his tongue, finding no resistance as it explores my mouth. The rapacity in his curiosity, embodied in my secret pride in coaxing out the wolf within.

Alfie slips his hands beneath the hoodie, enveloping my bum and spreading the cheeks so I can feel him better. A sound in between a gasp and a moan spills from my lips when he presses himself against me, ready to take this further.

Beyond the boundaries of comfort.

And it frightens me.

Too fast. We’re going too fast.

Abruptly, I pull back. Alfie chases my lips, evidently far from done. 

To show this is where I draw the line in the sand, I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back to create enough distance between us to speak. To hide the tremble in my fingers, I clutch the fabric of his shirt. A corset of guilt settles around my chest, growing tighter with each second and every word I try to utter without showing the cracks of fear. The disgust I feel towards myself, throwing myself at him like that because it makes part of me happy while my rationality keeps pointing out the likely longevity of our relationship.“Alfie, I- I’m sorry, but can- can we stop?”

I don’t want to seem easy.

I don’t want to be easy. 

He grows still, his gaze still glazed over but slowly sharpening as the spell breaks for him too. Languidly he raises one of his hands, which hovers a few millimetres from my cheek. I wrap my fingers around his wrist and bring his palm to my face, placing a kiss on it before leaning into its warmth. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s alright, Y/N. It’s okay. You ‘ave boundaries and that’s good. I’m proud of you for speakin’ up,” he purrs, voice gravelly and low. After a moment’s hesitation, Alfie rests his forehead against mine. “Can I at least see ‘ow our good pal Anubis is doin’?”

I nod and guide his hand to lift the hoodie just enough for the god to show in all its healed glory.

My breath catches in my throat as his fingers glide over my skin. “Good girl. Taken proper care of that, ain’t ya?” His gaze darts to my face when he feels me go rigid. ‘‘I apologise, I should’ve asked before touchin’ you. I know it ain’t a proper apology and I should’ve thought twice, perhaps three, fuck, five times before-’’

‘‘Alfie, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean anything by it,’’ I cut him off, saving him this time from breaking out into a ramble. “By the way, everything smells like dragon blood now.”

The careful smile I give him makes him relax, at least enough to join in on the joke and erase the grimace from his face. “The smell ain’t that bad, right?”

I shake my head, feeling rather silly like a little girl. Free of the burden on my shoulders now that the atmosphere has brightened.

“I’m gonna shower. Can I kiss you before I do?”

“Yeah.”

He hums and presses his lips to my forehead. “I won’t take long. Lie down and get cosy. Read a bit. If you want, you can also browse through my designs or use my tablet for YouTube or Netflix. The code is 1888.”

An involuntary yelp erupts from my throat as he flips us over. He pulls back the sheets so I can scramble beneath them after propping up his pillow. Honestly, I had expected him to simply drape the sheets over me, but Alfie properly tucks me in.

“Comfy?” Alfie runs a hand through my hair, tracing the length of a lock to my cheek. He cups it, tenderly brushing his thumb over the skin.

I nod, smiling contently.

“Good.”

He saunters to the bathroom, picking up a pair of sweats and a loose fitting shirt along the way. A few seconds later the sounds of Alfie undressing and the shower fill the otherwise quiet room. I put on my glasses and settle in with the novel I bought, enjoying the silence.

Which is soon broken by a symphony of hardly stifled groans and bitten-back curses.

Is he… no, surely it’s his leg. Then again, don’t be naive, you bloody idiot!

I hide behind my novel, my ears as hot as my cheeks.

Oh, Lord.

Though I stand by my decision to not have sex with him, I can’t suppress a smirk nor deny the prickle running down the back of my neck. After all, how many times will I get to enjoy the pleasure of hearing him like this?

Proud as a peacock, basking in the knowledge I’ve reduced him to this state, I put the novel to the side and lie down on the pillow to listen to the going-ons in the bathroom.

His breath grows shallow, the growls deeper and feral. My fantasy makes a run for it and imagines him here in bed, sweating while mindlessly rutting into me. How many rounds would it take before he’s run out of stamina or for his balls to be empty?

Sooner than I would’ve liked, a snarl followed by low murmurs betrays he’s finished. Then again, he did say he’d make it quick.

Did you think about me? What you would’ve done if we hadn’t stopped?

To keep up appearances, I pick my book up again, put my glasses on and read until he’s done. Fortunately, he falls for the false show of innocence. Either that or he’s too wrapped up in towelling his hair dry and moving to notice I’m not thinking clearly either. 

A tad awkwardly he swaggers over to the bed, moving as if his clothes are in the way. I cross my legs, grateful the covers are there to conceal how his lumbering frame affects me.

“Why the grimace?” I tilt my head and try to keep my voice level, devoid of the amusement he unintentionally provided. Feigning ignorance is easy. It’s the maintaining of the act that’s the hardest part. But try I will.

“I-’’ He opens and closes his mouth as he scours his mind for an appropriate explanation. With a groan, Alfie lifts up the duvet and slides beneath it. “I’m not used to wearin’ pyjamas.”

Now it’s me who’s gobsmacked. I trail his movements, if only to hide the fact I have to let his confession sink in. Precarious information like that I need to register properly. 

Because my mind can get terribly creative. 

I scoot over to make room for him, still incapable of tearing my eyes away from him. “Uhm, I don’t know if this is appropriate of me to ask, but… do you sleep naked?”

“Yes, it’s how Yahweh means it to be.’’ Alfie lets out a content sigh, finally settled in a position in which neither his leg nor his body in general takes a toll on him. ‘‘The first ‘umans were naked. It’s our natural state, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate me goin’ commando. ‘Ence the bloody clothes.”

“If it’s really, you know… uncomfortable for you, you could, uhm, t- take them… off?”

“You’d run straight out that damned door if I did and I wouldn’t blame ya. And we can’t ‘ave that, can we? No, the clothes stay on. I can ‘andle it. Ain’t as bad as me health.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “Put the book away. Cute as you are with your glasses, it’s time to hit the ‘ay. I’m knackered.”

“I can leave only the reading lamp. I’m not tired yet.”

“No, darlin’, even big girls need sleep.” He props himself up on his elbow, plucks my book out of my hands, and reaches over to put it on the bedside table. Then he gently removes my glasses, folds them, and puts them atop the novel. “If I ever want you to do as I tell you, right, which, I know, isn’t very feminist of me, it’s now. Just this once, Y/N. Can you do that for me?”

Well, you also told me not to get a tattoo by Chester. Then again, I haven’t promised you I won’t.

I sigh, turn on my side, and shuffle closer to him. “Alright.”

Alfie pulls me flush against him, his chest seeming to radiate heat naturally. It’s exactly as I imagined it would feel beneath all the layers of clothing, beneath that white shirt back in Birmingham. Sturdy yet grown soft and supple with neglected muscle. Our legs entwine, the muscles in his thighs keeping mine firmly in place. I clutch his shirt like a koala, determined to hold on till sunrise.

One bear-like, no, wolf-like paw tucked beneath the pillow, he rubs my back with the other. All the while, he holds my gaze, looking at me with eyes as blue as Starry Night by van Gogh. It’s a shame he can’t see he’s the piece of art between us. I am merely the artist who can’t lay claim to him. “Nice, innit?”

Maybe not yet. One day. Until then, I have dreams in which I can confidently call you mine.

Involuntarily, I yawn. My eyelids grow heavy, the clutches of sleep slowly entangling my body. “Mhm.”

“I’d love to do this when you visit me.”

“I’d like that.”

“Good.” He kisses my forehead.

I raise my hand to run my fingers through his beard, still fascinated by the feeling of it as well as the intimacy. Although, it’s perhaps Alfie allowing it in general that’s most fascinating.

After a few moments, starting to lose the fight to stay awake, I let my hand rest on his neck. However, he puts it back on his beard, evidently having other ideas. “Didn’t say you could stop, did I?”

I let out a breathless laugh, too drowsy to make a louder sound. “Does it feel good?”

He closes his eyes, unconsciously guiding my fingertips to the spots that feel especially good. It could be because of the drowsiness, but his usual rumbles of delight have turned into the purrs like those of a very big pleased cat.

We continue to lie like that for a few more moments. Nevertheless, as soon as Alfie notices I’m losing what little momentum I already had, he takes my hand and places it on the side of his neck. “Go to sleep. Got a big day tomorrow.” He buries his nose in my hair, inhaling the scent. I don’t need to check to know he’s smiling. “Meetin’ the parents… fucking ‘ell.”

“Don’t have to,” I mumble.

“Ollie and Tom need to shut up. Maybe I should shoot them both.”

“No Timbuktu, Wolfy.”

“Right, no Timbuktu.” He leans in far enough for our noses to touch, places a peck on mine. “Geyn tsu shlofn, meyn mlkh. Deyn volf vet haltn ir zikher.”

A heaviness overtakes my body as I sink deeper into slumber, descending in the peaceful safety created by his arms and the knowledge there’s nothing to worry about for a few hours. Any problems created today will have to wait until tomorrow.

I remember dreaming of a Queen and a wolf sitting beneath a tree with nine branches spreading into the sky. They were looking out over a vast body of water, maybe a sea. And I’m fairly certain the wolf was keeping her safe.

I don’t know how long I slept when I wake up. Judging by the faint light falling in through the window, it’s still night or perhaps very early in the morning. We changed positions since we went to bed, me facing the window and Alfie firmly pressed against me, his chest rising and falling against my back and one arm draped over my waist to keep me close to him. I look over my shoulder, unable to suppress a smile at his calm expression which slowly etches itself out against the dusk.

He stirs, a grunt spilling from his lips as he rocks into me. Again I feel the same prodding sensation that woke me up.

Hang on.

Experimentally, I grind down on him, lip caught between my teeth to muffle the moan threatening to spill from the friction. The action gets rewarded with a warning snarl. Beneath the sheets, his hands grab my hips and squeeze them hard enough to cause bruises. 

His cock twitches when I press myself against it again. For a moment the idea to wake Alfie up to lend him a helping hand passes through my head. However, my common sense gets the better of me. We both have boundaries. Now it’s my turn to respect them.

It’s better to leave things, us, as we are. I don’t want to give off mixed signals.

So, having had my extra bit of fun and enjoying the clear display of possession, I drift back to sleep.

Perhaps I don’t need dreams. I’m yours and you’re mine.

Strange how the expected can turn into the unexpected only to leave you filled with suffocating disappointment.

I roll over in the bed, but whereas I could snuggle into Alfie’s chest just a few hours ago, all I can seek warmth from is the cold and empty spot next to mine.

Maybe he’s just making a call or he’s downstairs in the gym.

It’s nonsense, absolute rubbish. Yet, I need something to contradict myself, the incessant voice in my head called ‘conscience’. To suppress the rapidly spreading bleak feeling, my instincts tuned into the situation and not tolerating any flight of fancy.

I slowly sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes, making a quick mental prayer to have him there when I open them. It’s pathetic, of course, to hope for such a thing despite the clear signs.

It’s only me, in an empty hotel room in Mokum.

Clenching the sheets, lips pressed firmly together, I blink away the watery world.

The lonely reality.

Don’t cry. You could’ve expected this. What were you doing anyway? Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why do I have to be such a fucking idiot?

With tears still brimming on the edge of my lashes, I scan the room for any hints about Alfie’s whereabouts. Then again, how much can one find when there is no trace to be found?

His jacket, cane, phone, suitcase, backpack. Gone.

I check my phone, but the screen lights up with nothing but new notifications from online shopping apps. He also hasn’t left me a text or an Instagram message.

Well, at least he has Velvel with him. Or would he have dumped him somewhere? No, that doesn’t sound like Wolfy. He isn’t like that. He isn’t!

The thought of the poor little stuffie drowned in rubbish wrenches a violent sob from me.

At least you could’ve left him here, you bastard!

On the coffee table stands a tall white cup with a familiar holder around it. There seems to be something tucked underneath. Temporarily forgetting the plushie’s fate, I get up to get a closer look.

An envelope.

Inside is a letter, written in an elegant cursive reminiscent of the kind you find in really old vintage ones. I sniff at the cup and take a small sip of the, apparently, cold liquid inside.

Pumpkin spice.

How the hell did this get here?

Latte in hand, I sit down to read.

My dearest Y/N,

The coffee must’ve gone cold by the time you read this, but I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked too peaceful, like a little seraphim at rest. So I packed my stuff as quietly as I could so as not to disturb you. However, please do forgive me for this, I couldn’t help but murmur my goodbyes and kiss your forehead. You stirred, but I do hope I didn’t wake you up.

Yesterday, at the bookshop, you said that there are a lot of things people don’t do as they used to, especially writing letters. Yes, I heard you. This old man remains very good at paying attention, comes in handy when [crossed out text]. I could’ve sent you a message over Instagram, but I didn’t want to be that bloke. To be honest, you deserve better than that, love. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve written a letter so hopefully my handwriting is still legible in spite of the years.

And even though I’m not there when you read this, I can imagine you wonder how in the bloody hell I managed to get a piece of paper and an envelope. I kindly requested them from the staff at the front desk. No force was used, I promise. Only a bit of coercion and intimidation. Nonetheless, I hope you can envision my desperation to leave you a personal note.

By the way, don’t worry about check-out. You can do so whenever you’re ready to go home. Speaking of which, I regret I made you the promise of meeting your parents and not being able to follow up on it. Something happened in Camden which requires me to return to England at once. I would rather have stayed here with you and let Ollie handle it, but he’s not the person who should deal with it.

Velvel is sitting at my side and he isn’t happy to leave you, either. But I’ll make sure he becomes a hardy boy, a London wolf like your man.

We’ll miss you. Yet, we also know you’re a big girl who can save herself (even when I don’t like it, next time I’m going up the ladder).

Don’t cry for me, sweetheart. I hate myself for knowing you likely are, so let me make the promise I’ll never make you cry again. Now you have my word on paper, a powerful weapon to use against me any time. For you are the only woman, the only person, who this king bends his knee to.

(The good one, right knee)

And let me make another promise.

I, Alfred Josef Menahem Solomons Jr., swear to you, Y/N L/N, that I will return once winterfall has come. If I don’t, it’s better if you forget about me. What good is a man who can’t live up to his word?

Until then, I cherish the time we spent together. You made me feel like a free man, a man of flesh and blood. Alive, risen again like Lazarus.

I’ll keep you in my heart and hold the ghost of your hand until we meet again, my love. For you have been the last dream of my soul and I refuse to let it, YOU, go.

Your sincere and faithful servant,

Wolfy

I squint at the letter.

Winterfall? What and when is that? You’re not coming back, are you? This is just a pretty way for you to say goodbye.

There’s a postscript.

P.S: I’ve left you the drawing I worked on yesterday. Again, there was no force used to have it printed and delivered to you, my dear. I asked the staff very nicely to help me out. Let me know what you think of it. Or, even better, write to me. There’s an address on the back.

On the table is the referenced artwork, revealed from its hiding spot beneath Alfie’s letter.

It’s not precisely what I expected. In fact, it’s drawn in a style entirely different from his tattoos, a watercolour portrait rather than black ink sketch. The background is blurry, the colours in the scenery flowing over into each other. Only a window is clearly drawn, a black cat holding a cup of coffee staring out of it.

My eye falls on the title of the piece, written in a neat elegant surface in the corner.

Bast.

I turn the piece of paper around.

There’s an address in Margate.

The world can get incredibly loud once a lost soul returns. Its happy wanderings are drowned out by yelled concern, anxiety mixed with guilt having created a heavy shroud to wear.

But I keep his letter and drawing tight to my chest.

And lapse into silence.

[kvetchlandia]

Cilla Black     Alfie, Live (Lyrics by Hal David, Music by Burt Bacharach)     1965

That’s Burt Bacharach conducting the musicians and playing piano.

Burt Bacharach  -  1928-2023  -  Ave atque Vale

[syven-siren]

Crystallized Yearning // Kinktober 2021

{Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader x Alfie Solomons} Word Count: ~1.4k

Summary: Finding new partners, ones that won’t betray the trust of the relationship, can be difficult; especially with the shady characters Tommy does dealings with. But if there’s one thing you know, it’s how to pick the man for the job and Alfie Solomons is just right to put you in the position you’ve always coveted. 

Warnings: 18+ / voyeurism / cuckolding / double penetration / degradation / praise kink / size kink / power play / taunting / multiple creampie

There’s something about joining Tommy at his business meetings that is quite enjoyable. Though it’s been quite a few years since your initial accompaniment, there’s always something new to discover. It certainly isn’t the men, who Tommy deems worthy of his time, that you find intriguing. Most leer, just after their initial fascination wears off, forgetting their decorum while others scoff at your presence in the room. Those men believe a woman’s place is in the home or by her husband’s side while minding her words and tending to their children.

Alfie, like many of the other men you’ve come to know, directs his words towards Tom as soon as you step foot in his office. “I see you brought the missus then. Could have warned me. I’d ‘ave cleaned up the place a bit.”

You interject. The words flow easily with the sharpness of the blades hidden with Tommy’s cap, “He didn’t bring me. I decided to come and I’m not his wife.”

You are a blazing spirit, unabashed nature, and blunt words all held together in beautiful physical form. As most have outwardly exclaimed with no such eloquence, you are a truly blasphemous entity. But you’ll forgive Alfie's mistake this one time, if only because you’ve come with one certain objective in mind.

Many men assume, incorrectly, that you are a weakness, both to yourself and to Tommy. And taking control of the situation is fairly easy when your opposition assumes, incorrectly, that you are a whore Tommy totes around. You may not have the ring on your finger, yet, to announce your status in Tommy’s life but you have never been one that needed material symbols of commitment. And being a whore or housewife has never been and will never be your place.  

“Excuse me then.” His eyes wander to Tommy who has settled himself on the old couch far across the room before flickering back to you.

“I’m here to make a deal with you, Mr. Solomons.”

“Alfie is fine,” He waves off your formalities just as you thought he would. A smile slinking onto his face as he tries to calculate your next move, “And what could I possibly get you? Doesn’t Tommy give you everything you desire?”

“I don’t need a man to give me what I want. I take it on my own.”

A loud laugh rises up from him, “A real firecracker you got here, mate. I see why you keep her around.”

“You still don’t get it, Alfie.”

“Oh, I don’t? I always do tell Tom that intelligence is a valuable fucking thing. Come enlighten me then, love.” He relaxes in his seat, arms open wide in an unintentional invitation that you gladly accept.

Your eyes flick back to Tom who lights his cigarette. The corner of his mouth is crooked upwards, the barest hint of amusement on his face.

“Pour us some rum, Alfie.”

“And what are we toasting to?” Alfie holds the bottle out to Tom in offering, but the blue-eyed man shakes his head.

Gliding around the desk, you take the glass of amber liquid from his hand and down it one gulp. The path after burns, leaving a warm sensation as it hits your stomach and only adding to the heat growing between your thighs. Your gaze wanders over his face, following the drop of alcohol that escapes from his plump lips. You chase after it, your thumb grazing over his bottom lip to wipe the remnant away, “To a good fuck.”

Whether it be your words or actions that catch him off guard, you can not tell but he recovers quickly, pulling you into his lap and smashing his mouth against yours. He’s different from Tommy in that way. Both men are rough and dominant but Alfie has an all-encompassing warmth. It’s a smothering presence, both in size and personality. Whereas Tom is more deliberate and orchestrated. His power and poise are so big they could completely consume you, driving you to the end of pleasure only to yank you back for more.

Thick fingers weave through the skirts around your waist, unfastening them with an ease that only comes with experience. Those same digits pinch and soothe the skin of your exposed thighs dancing upward towards your awaiting core. Your hips rock, grinding yourself against his clothes erection. Even covered, you can tell he is large; a thought that makes you salivate.

A huff in the distance pulls you and Alfie apart, the man looking to his Brummie partner over your shoulder as you begin to suckle red marks on the skin not hidden beneath his cotton shirt.

“This gets you off, Tom? Me about to fuck your girl.”

“Fuck off, Alfie.” Tommy’s tone has a bitter bite but just below it, you can hear the utter enjoyment he is taking from the display you are putting on.

“Alfie, why you gotta rile him up? Hmm? Let him enjoy our little show.”

“You’re a fucking devil woman, you know that?”

You grin at him, leaning in to nip at his cheek before capturing his lips against yours again. It’s easy, the way things flow. No complicated discussion; just lust and yearning taking control and clothes discarded across the floor as you both give in to carnal desires.

Your head tilts back, unintentionally offering your skin for Alfie to mark as you sink onto his cock. The girth of him stretches you far past what you’ve ever experienced. His fingers dip into your hips, guiding you to a pace you both find suitable.

“Fuck. That little hole of hers is amazing, Tom.”

At his praise, your walls clench around Alfie’s thickness. The man below you chuckles, hips lifting off his seat to match the speed of your bounce. The floorboards creak beneath the weight of your joined bodies, only adding to the sounds released from your lungs and the squelch of juices between your thighs.

It’s almost immoral how quickly your orgasm rushes upon you. The tightening of your small cavern has Alfie gasping and grunting as he works you through the pleasure. You milk him, your body silently pleading with him to coat your walls. And like the good man he is, Alfie follows your command, spilling himself within you.

Heavy breaths and tender kisses are shared but he continues, never slowing his assault on your pussy. You shiver as an imposing figure stands behind you; his front brushing your back. The fabric of Tommy’s suit stimulates your already exposed nerve endings.

His lips attach to your shoulder, biting and then soothing the spot with a flick of his tongue, “Think you can take us both, love?”

“Yeah. Need you, Tommy. Give me your best.”

“Always do, love.”

Your body trembles again when you feel his cock rubs against your already plugged entrance. You hum in appreciation as Tom slips inside, joining Alfie in defiling your pussy. Both men groan as you continue to flutter around them.

Tom is the first to move. Such as with everything else, he takes charge and sets the new pace. Slow and steady, they both move, drawing moans and heady gasps from you. The mixture of your earlier union makes it a smooth transition to taking them both. They work in tandem much different from their usual friendly animosity. They share a more important goal this time: wrecking and ruining you.

And how easily they find a good strategy. As Tommy‘s cock makes an exit, Alfie’s, in turn, eases into you. The push and pull against each other along with the pressure your pussy provides has them both spiraling into ecstasy and dragging you down with them.  

The coil within your core snaps, pleasure washing over you and sucking the very breath from your lungs. Tommy and Alfie follow right behind, emptying into you with hearty moans. The essence of your sin drips out, dribbling past their lengths and your thighs.

It’s quiet for the first you minutes as the three of you bask in the aftermath of bliss. But it’s ultimately cut off by the deep rumble of Alfie’s chuckles, “That’s one fucking way to seal a new partnership. Now how ‘bout we have another round?”

Feedback, reblogs, & likes are always appreciated!

Gif Credit: @lousolversons Tagging: @reborn-rekall​ @amysteryspot​

[potter-solomons]

Alfie Solomons pt. 2

----------------------------------------------------------

"Ah love, look at you. Whimpering rubbing your thighs together there. But you and I both know, yeah, my good girl can't keep her legs closed when she's around her Alfie, can she? Fucking pitiful, innit?"

"Ya like it, yeah, my hands wrapped around your throat. My big cock pounding you, fuck your cunny is so pretty. Fucking beautiful, being such a good girl, taking it so well."

"Fuck your mouth feels so good for me, dove. Keep going like that and we'll see how cute that face looks with my cum all over it."

"My pet, always thinking. Got too much going on up in that pretty head of yours, yeah. Daddy knows how to fix it, don't he? Yeah, right there. That's the spot, innit? Make it all go away, won't it? Cum for me. That's it, let go, cum for me. "

"Been staring at me fingers all night love. What is it that you're needing, huh? You see, pet, these hands 'ave done horrible things. Vicious things. But that don't stop my woman from wanting them inside her, does it?

Continued thanks to @hecatemoon87 & @darklydeliciousdesires for our spicy talks.

[fandom-puff]

Puppy

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x reader

Requested by: anon ‘getting a puppy with alfie 🥺🥺 cyril needs a friend’

He absolutely needs a friend anon 🥺🥺🥺

Warnings: none

Gif creds to owner

“Alf?” You asked, wandering into the office, Cyril padding behind you, his claws tapping against the wooden floor.

“Yes, my beautiful wife?” Alfie said, not looking up from his paperwork, his glasses perched precariously on the end of his nose as he read. “What’s wrong?”

“Well... Cyril and I were thinking...”

“Oh Lord have mercy,” Alfie said, looking over his shoulder. He pushed away from the desk, leaving a gap big enough so that you could sit on his broad thigh. Cyril rested his head on Alfie’s other leg, looking up at him with the best puppy-dog eyes a bullmastiff could muster. “What was you an’ Cyril thinking, sweetheart?” He said.

“Well... when you’re away at work, it does get rather quiet around here,”

Alfie set down his pen and turned to look you in the eye. “Yeah? I mean… we’re already trying for a baby, darlin’” he reminded you and you giggled as he nuzzled his face into your neck, the scruff of his beard tickling you. “You wanna try again, is that it, yeah?”

“Alf!” You squealed, squirming on his lap. “Maybe later tonight. But… well… we were thinking,”

“You were thinking- Cyril’s a dozy old thing, love,” he cut you off, scratching his beloved hound behind the ear.

“Fine. I was thinking… maybe it would be nice if… we got Cyril a friend…” You held your breath as your husband stroked his beard in thought.

“A friend for our Cyril, eh?” He murmured. “Another dog, you mean?”

You nodded, nibbling your lip. “Maybe not another bullmastiff. Something smaller, maybe,”

Alfie nodded slowly, looking between his adoring wife and the eagerly slobbering dog on his lap. “A terrier, maybe. Or a spaniel…” he said. “Yeah. Yeah alright. But not a bitch. I don’t think Cyril’s got it in ‘im anymore, love,”

***

A few weeks had passed since your canine conversation with Alfie, and little more had been said on the subject. You had been returning home after taking Cyril out for a bit of exercise. As you neared your house, he began yanking on his lead, almost dragging you along the pavement. “Cyril!” You called, jogging to keep up with the determined dog; usually he walked by your side, even as you approached home. As you unlocked the door, Cyril bounded into the house, tugging his lead out of your hand in his eagerness to get to Alfie. You shook your head fondly, turning to shut and lock the door behind you, shrugging off your coat and hanging it up.

“Been the butcher’s, Alf?” You called out as you walked into the kitchen. “Cyril nearly tore my arm off,”

“No, love… come here,” you smiled softly, wandering into his open arms. “Cyril must’ve smelt his new friend,” he murmured into your ear. You pulled away excitedly. “He nearly ruined the surprise,” he teased and you beamed up at him. “C’mon. He’s in the living room,”

You let Alfie take you by the hand to the living room, where a cardboard box sat. Approaching it slowly, you peaked over the rim, falling to your knees. Inside was a little dog with ears much too big for his body, droopy eyes and a beautiful chocolate coat. Alfie eased himself onto his knees as you stared at the dog, all curled up in a blanket. “Do you like him, darlin’” he murmured, kissing your temple. You turned to press a kiss against his lips.

“Oh, Alf, he’s beautiful,” you said, happy tears wetting your cheeks. “He’s so small,”

“One of the lads’ bitches got caught. He’s the runt, mind, he was gonna drown him. I told him ‘no, you listen here, mate, you make sure that little one gets the milk from ‘is mum, yeah, so’s I can ‘av ‘im for my missus,’” you laughed softly, throwing your arms around his neck, kissing all over his face. “And he doesn’t grow too big, either. Basset hound, he is. He’ll still run rings around our Cyril, even with those little legs,”

You smiled softly as the box rustled, your new pup waking. Alfie scooped him up, almost engulfing him in his huge hands, and handed him to you. You held the tiny dog to your chest, pressing a gentle kiss to his wrinkly forehead.

“Hello, little one,” you murmured as Cyril padded over, sniffing curiously. The hound gave a little squeak and you cooed. “Shh… it’s just Cyril. He’s a big old softy, I promise you. Be nice, Cyril. Say hello,” Cyril sniffed over the puppy in your lap, before giving him a single lick across the top of his head. “Aww, kisses. Good boy, Cyril,” you smiled. Soon you set the puppy onto the ground. On shaky legs, he wandered over to Cyril, who must’ve seemed like a veritable giant to the tiny basset hound, and curled up next to the dog. You smiled, leaning your head on Alfie’s shoulder as Cyril curled protectively around his new friend.

“If this is what you’re like with a pup, love,” Alfie murmured softly. “Imagine what you’ll be like with a baby. You’ll be giving calling Cyril its brother,”

You smiled up at your husband. “Well… I suppose we’ll find that out soon enough,”

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