#modern alfie

[potter-solomons]

Alfie.

[look-at-the-soul]

Endless love

(Modern) Tommy Shelby x reader

✨ I wrote this for @justrainandcoffee Alfieversary! My dearest Flor who knew fanfiction and Peaky Blinders would cross our paths! Thank you for always being so kind and generous-and talented!-, becoming mutuals here for a short time and somehow it feels as if we knew each other in person. Cheers to many, many more Alfieversaries!

Summary: Y/N is “forced” to leave her husband and baby for the weekend, so join Tommy to sort parenthood by himself for a couple of days. How will he deal with everything? Including a fussy baby.

Word count: 2.5K

A/N: we know I try to make moodboards right? 🤭

“Okay, erm so there’s milk storage enough.” Y/N mumbled, taking one more look around the bedroom. “Emma’s nappies are in the first drawer, keep her bunny close to-“

“Her face, I know.” Tommy produced a small chuckle, trying hard not to roll his eyes as he had already heard his wife’s instructions for almost a week. “Love, just leave that there, take a deep breath and have a margarita for me, we’ll be fine.”

Looking down at his six-month old he found her big beautiful eyes staring at him.

Y/N blinked nervously, this was the first trip away from Emma, it’s was a natural thing to be nervous.

“I can’t drink a margarita, remember?” She pointed at her breasts for a clearer message. Although she really wanted one.

This was actually her first real going out in a long time, somehow her life had been turned upside down full of baby trips to the doctor’s appointments, quick trips to get the groceries, restless nights of feedings. Thats why when Tommy insisted she should make the trip with Rose and the girls, she thought it would be a good idea to have a little time to herself.

But suddenly, her phone started ringing and loads of messages arrived simultaneously.

“Are you su-“

Tommy cut his wife’s words. “Yes, now go before Rose comes up to take you.”

Y/N gave Tommy a worried look, she couldn’t help it.

“Say goodbye to mama,” he waved Emma’s little hand. “Buh-bye mam!” He imitated a childish voice.

Y/N felt her heart clenching inside her chest when she kissed her daughter’s chubby cheeks.

“If you need anything just call and I’ll be back.” She rushed to say before kissing Tommy’s lips. Stepping out of their home, she blew them a kiss.

Tommy finally felt confident enough to release the air he had been holding. He was beyond nervous for not having his wife around whilst taking care of their baby, he was actually panicking to do anything wrong.

As Tommy closed the door he saw Emma’s lip quiver and a second later, she let out a big cry.

“Oh no, no darling don’t cry.” Tommy tried to soothe her. Small legs kicking with such force that made him think of a small tornado. “It’s alright, mama will be back in a couple of days…” he mumbled tried to get his daughter to settle.

His phone started buzzing in his pocket, he tried to rock Emma, but her cries became louder. Pressing the green button so fast that he didn’t look at the name on the screen.

“‘Lo?”

“Is Emma alright? I heard her crying.”

Tommy gasped. “Yes, of course, it’s the television… there’s a baby crying.” He lied.

He noticed Y/N’s hesitation so he rushed to assure her everything was fine and encouraged her to have a great time with her friends. Then, Tommy searched the channel with calm music Y/N used to rock Emma to sleep, in an attempt to settle his baby.

“How can a little thing like you cry so loud?” Tommy sighed defeated. He was one step from giving up. “I don’t know how your mama does it.”

He had tried everything, absolutely everything. And nothing seemed to work.

Was his baby sick? Hurting?

“What is it baby girl?” He wiped away the tears from her eyes, long lashes wet, chubby cheeks red from the intensity of her cries.

A sudden flashback appeared on his mind and with long strides, he walked into their bedroom hoping to find Emma’s bunny in its place. It had been a birth gift by Rose, and his daughter didn’t seem to like anything else.

“Look… here’s your bunny.” He tried tickling her cheeks. “And let’s take Mummy’s blanket alright?”

Tommy felt on the brick of desperation, was he really a useless father? One who couldn’t make his daughter stop crying?

His heart was aching.

Tommy wondered how would they survive for the entire weekend without Y/N. He started seriously doubting his parental skills in that moment.

Wrapping his baby in Y/N’s blanket seemed to bring some comfort for his baby. Groaning he covered his face with one of the thin cloths they used to go outside, it was small piece that only covered his features partially but then he heard a small giggle and a raspberry from Emma.

Startled, he removed the sheet from his face and looked down at what was making her giggle.

“You liked your silly daddy?” He asked mimicking a ridiculous voice.

He tried the trick once more.

And to his surprise, Emma giggled again, there was a bit of droll on her chin, big blue eyes sparkling just for him.

“You like Mr. Napkin?!” He asked in disbelief. “Yes you do!”

Getting up, he got a larger napkin from the kitchen and after covering his face again, but he added his glasses.

“Mr. Napkin needs help to see.” He repeated what it seemed like the best acting performance ever. “Oh! I see a beautiful happy little girl.” He turned to face his baby laying in one of his arms.

Emma laughed uncontrollably and kicked her legs happily.

“You know what? Mr. Napkin needs a smoke.” He announced, producing a cigarette from its case. But once he added it to his performance, he noticed a small pout. “Oh no, no… that’s a bad habit, don’t do it.”

Once he got his little girl to settle again, he sighed relieved when he saw the big yawn she offered.

“Mr. Napkin would like a nap too.”

But before he could close his eyes, his phone started ringing and the sound woke his daughter up.

“Shit. Alfie what do you want?”

“Just making sure you’re in one piece still… heard the Misus are having the time of their lives.” Alfie announced.

“I know you’re miserable when Rose is away, but I’m busy here mate.”

“That’s exactly why I was calling, to offer some child support.”

Tommy snorted. “Alfie the last thing I want is you taking care of my daughter.”

Alfie didn’t took that personally, he knew as a matter of fact that he had the opposite effect in Tommy’s daughter. “When will you finally admit your daughter likes me?”

“She likes pulling at you beard and your dog.”

“Look we both know you’re going to make the girls come back earlier from their trip and the least thing I need is having Rosie mad at me at your fault, so meet me and Cyril at the beach.”

“That sounds like an awful idea.”

“See ya.”

The actual plan worked like wonders, Emma was thrilled to spend time with Cyril, because being honest, he got all protective over Emma, and despite his size he acted like a cotton ball, bringing her sticks. But Tommy wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

Of course Alfie teased him endlessly for acting over protective towards the baby just because he made sure his daughter wouldn’t suffer damage from the sun. Or any kind of damage for that matter.

“What are cha gonna do when your little pumpkin starts messing around with boys and-“

Tommy gave him a death stare.

“Wha? You can’t keep her locked mate…” Alfie pointed out as the girl grabbed some sand in her small fist.

“That’s not going to happen.” Tommy answered with a clenched jaw.

Just the mere thought of it, made his insides twist.

And to Alfie, to have the chance to tease Tommy it was like the cherry on top, it was something he wasn’t going to let it pass.

By the time they went back to their apartment, Emma was sound asleep in the back seat.

After changing his baby girl into a pajama set, Tommy walked around the place to set the alarm and taking the remote, he turned off the lights.

To his surprise, he got a message from his wife.

Missing you both like crazy! xx

We missed you too, Emma was thrilled to take a little trip to the beach xx - he replied.

Almost immediately, his phone started ringing and the photo of his wife holding their baby appeared on the screen.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to disturb you, but…” her sweet voice made him smile.

“‘S alright, I was just getting ready to sleep.”

“But it’s still early.” Y/N pointed out turning around to look the hour.

“I am exhausted.” He dragged the words.

Turning the call into video, Y/N noticed the bags under his eyes. The dim light cascading over his cheekbones.

“Looks like someone’s having the time of her life.” He complimented.

“We had a massage and I ordered a virgin cocktail.”

Tommy shook his head. “No booze? What’s the fun in that?”

“Stop temping me.” Y/N pouted. “I’ll let you’ve some rest, tomorrow it’s going to be a long day.”

Tommy yawned and wished his wife a good night.

****

A babbling sound make him open his eyes asTommy tried to fix his blurred vision.

Groaning, he got up. “Morning, sunshine.” He kissed the top of her head as he pulled her against his chest and went back to bed.

Instinctively, Emma started nibbling his nipple.

“Oh sweetie, you won’t find anything there.” Tommy explained with a chuckle.

But Emma wasn’t in the mood and a round of loud cries started right away.

“I get it, the milk provider is moving right away, give me a sec.” He got up and carried his baby towards the kitchen, to prepare the bottle for her. A few minutes later, Emma was sucking happily.

“Such a drama queen eh?” He stared at her soft features. Wondering what life had in store for her. “What do you wanna do today? We can go to the park, or the pub bet your uncles would love to see you.” He proposed as his baby was focused on her milk. That way he could get some help because everyone in his family adored his daughter.

Despite his wealth, Y/N refused hiring a nanny. She was adamant to be in charge of everything related to their daughter. And being completely honest with himself, he was grateful for being able to spend quality time with his first born, Y/N deserved all the credit for that, she helped him feel comfortable by giving his daughter a warm bath and helping as much as he could, being a present father.

She had already threatened him to include a hairstyle masterclass so he could learn to do braids and pigtails.

After a quick bath for him and another one for his daughter. He felt proud of managing to put an asthetic outfit for Emma, he actually went safe with clear colors God forbid that one time he changed her into a set that didn’t match, Y/N scolded and teased him endlessly. As Tommy was looking in one of the drawers for a clean sheet so he could place his baby on the floor, he found a small box where Y/N kept a bunch of things she said that were useless but you might need some day. The thought made him chuckle, but a sharp movement opened the lid and its content fell to the floor.

That’s when he saw something that caught his attention.

A playful smile spread on his lips and he rushed to the living room to set everything.

It took him a while to carry on with his idea, but once he was finished, he stood there proudly to admire his creation, the smile on his daughter’s face told him he did a good job. Oh, the things he’d do for that little Miss Sunshine. She had him wrapped around her little finger.

Snapping a photo, he pressed a few buttons to send it to his wife.

“What is that?!” Y/N asked raising her voice, excitement was evident.

Tommy’s chest expanded proudly as he looked at his mini-me in awe. “She’s being giggling nonstop.”

“This is the best idea ever!” Y/N sounded surprised, so he was still able to be one step ahead.

“Cheapest trick to keep her busy.” Tommy added, sending the photo to the Shelby’s chat group.

“I can’t wait to go back home.” He knew being away wasn’t easy for her, specially because she was so attached to Emma.

“The day will fly by and you’ll be back before you know it.” He tried to cheer her up. His eyes darting back to his daughter, still amazed by the balloons.

“Look at you, I leave you for a couple of days and you win the award parent of the year.”

“That’s what you get for abandoning us.” He joked.

“Hey!” Tommy heard Rose’s voice in the background. “Only emergencies! Is Tommy missing an arm?” He heard some weird noise and then she spoke clearly. “I hope you’re taking good care of Emma.”

“Of course.” He wasn’t sure if he should be more scared of his wife or Rose.

“Good, then were stealing your wife for another day and we’re already planning the next trip.” She warned, and this time around, it was Y/N turn in the background saying that she didn’t want to be away from her daughter again.

“Have a fabulous day, I gotta change a stinky nappy.”

Ending the call, he decided to order some food, the last thing on his mind at the moment was to prepare something. At least he got a great deal by keeping his daughter busy with the balloons and that granted him a few minutes to stand outside in the balcony to smoke a cigarette while keeping an eye on his baby.

And the rest of his day went just like that between naps, babbling and the little sounds his daughter made. Later he’d pick a book to read to her.

****

Sunday finally arrived and after driving for a couple of hours, the girls left her by the apartment lobby first, so she made the trip to her floor quietly and since she didn’t tell Tommy what time they were coming back, she took the chance to surprise him.

He didn’t know, but she had been watching him in the baby monitor app on her phone. As a matter of fact her heart felt full last night when she realized her baby wouldn’t settle and after a couple of minutes, she saw Tommy getting up from the bed and climbing the crib -big enough to fit him-, to sleep with his baby.

She knew he was the best father their daughter could have.

And another proof was that moment while he was feeding Emma and he started singing a Romani song and ever so gently he explained their baby he came from gypsies and she too, had gypsy blood running in her veins. Y/N wanted to bottle the two of them along with those moments that made her confirm her deep love for that man.

But Y/N was the surprised one when she stepped into her apartment and found Tommy sleeping on the couch with Emma lying on his chest fast asleep, his arm wrapped around her back protectively. Her small hand closed in a tight fist over her bunny’s ear.

The image was instantly tattooed in her heart as a lifetime memory.

And she knew, her heart was full and that this was an endless love.

Master list

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, remember your feedback is always the way to a writer’s heart ♥️✨

Oh! I almost forgot.. Mr Napkin inspiration 👇🏻👇🏻

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[red-write-hand]

Modern!Tommy headcanons

(this could just be my thoughts splat onto a page but have fun! also no beta read we die like tommy's sexuality the moment he saw alfie solomons)

If that man could take his computer to bed with him, he would

He runs on cigarettes and coffee

I feel like he would totally have those machines that are super intricate about making coffee

Usually an apple loyalist but buys add-ons from others (think headphones, charging cables, other Bluetooth items)

Listens to The Neighborhood, Drake, Hozier, Eminem, The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Kendrick Lamar, Bastille

Exclusively buys from Boss, started as a joke with his brothers but then he realized he really likes the suits he bought

Owns a bunch of clubs and knows about the best clubs to go to if you want a good time

Likes to eat expensive food but will never turn down Italian take out at horrible hours of the night

Absolutely owns a pair of those Bluetooth Raybans that play music discreetly

Favorite movies are the Tobey Maguire Spidermans, Star Wars (only the New Hope, Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, Revenge of the Sith, and Rise of Skywalker)

Has better figured out his own mental health and sexuality

this👏man👏is👏bisexual👏 (it radiates off him, takes one to know one)

since it is more widely accepted, he feels a little better about it

he absolutely had his first bi panic when he would banter with Freddie

that and EVERY interaction with Alfie

alfie bought him a tiny pride flag which he keeps in his desk, right next to his incredibly expensive alcohol ~x fem!Reader headcanons (m! in part 2)~ warnings: kinda unethical office workplace relationship?

its become a joke of sorts about being tommy's secretary around his family

this all stemmed from him taking an interest in you when you applied

you really were gorgeous to him

you're the only person he is slightly comfortable around besides the Blinders or his own family

the longer you work with him, the more comfortable he gets

after awhile, he (politely, our boy is respectful) asks you to call him Tommy instead of 'Mr. Shelby'

he is one of the most sought after men in the city which makes him very alluring to most

you don't super see it, he's always been very "normal" around, not the silver tongued devil most people knew him as

it wasn't that you didn't like him, you really did, his gorgeous frame, his perfect eyes, his slender fingers, his dark hair, everything was amazing except for the fact that he never really showed any interest in you, to him (you thought), you were his secretary, nothing more

oh how wrong you were

this all changes one late night, him still tirelessly working and you still there making sure that he doesn't stay there all night

it doesn't take much for him to just keep running on fumes so it usually falls upon you to remind him what god awful hour it is

you gently crack open the door and poke your head in

"Hey, Tommy, it's almost 1, pack it up and get some actual sleep."

He rolled his neck and closed his computer, just before packing everything up, he stops

"Cmon 'ere"

It was simple and you knew what could happen if something were to go down but you could find a new job if you had to

The Shelby building was quiet and the only office with any lights on was his

You leaned on the side of his desk and he opens the big drawer at the bottom

He procures the bottle of probably very expensive alcohol and starts pouring you one

"Why do you stay so late? Making sure I go home isn't in your contract."

You thought about it, it had become such a part of your daily cycle

"I guess I've just gotten used to it. Seemed like the right things to do after awhile."

He thanks you quietly and hands your glass of the whiskey he had poured

This was the softest you had ever seen him, you decided to capitalize off of it

"I've never understood it, why are you so comfortable with me Tommy?"

He nods slowly, knowing he would have to explain himself soon

"Polly says I don't 'ave my head straight yet, so my answer won't do you much good."

You, of course, weren't satisfied with that answer so you decided to play a hunch

By this hour of the night, his hair was rather disheveled so you tentatively ran your finger through it, fixing it for him

a small smirk bloomed on your lips when his expression seemed to soften more

This sort of tension was now a pattern for the two of you

The tension got to such a height that after awhile, late at night, he would just pull you into his lap and have his hand wrapped around your waist

You like to run your hands through his hair or trace his jaw with your fingertip

this is just how it is for the two of you and both of you like that <3

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Bakery Love Story Headcanons w/ Papa Solomons

And a wee bit of a CoD crossover

TH Masterlist

He knows you hate closing shifts, but asks you to work them regardless if he’s on them too.

Truth be told, you don’t mind when it’s just you two because you get on surprisingly well in spite of your differences.

Alfie keeps you out of the bakery’s kitchen as much as possible. Partially because he doesn’t want you around the ovens lest you burn yourself. It’s fine for bread to burn, but your skin?

ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOT!

So you stay out front or only venture there to help Alfie carry bread or pastries or prepare sandwiches. Otherwise, you’re in the front as a barista.

He only trusts Ollie with your company.

Takes you with him when he goes ingredient shopping. He’ll pick you up at the crack of dawn to go to Borough Market with him.

However, those morning ventures aren’t solely about food. Various recent reviews have mentioned the wee bouquets dotted around the place, which has helped increase business. So he also needs your help with choosing this week’s flowers.

Although, it’s better to say they’re your responsibility since you’re the one who offered the golden idea. The price tag doesn’t matter, he’ll pay since your word is gospel to him.

He makes you breakfast when you have to open as well. It’s rare for you to work so early in the morning, but if you do it’s with Alfie. He doesn’t mind having to leave the house a little earlier to pick you up. After all, even at dawn and especially during the first hours of a winter morning, London isn’t safe.

What boss lets his female employee take such risk?

That’s the angle Alfie forces himself to take. Yet, despite the effort and struggle he hides because of it, it’s not a perspective he can maintain. Henceforth, he often finds himself following the train of thought he can’t shake off.

What king puts his queen in danger? What absolutely fucking sodden bastard leaves his girl to her own devices amongst predators and shadows?

NOT the King of Camden.

He likes how you hum or quietly sing along to Ed Sheeran’s songs. Alfie absolutely still doesn’t like the style nor genre, but he does if it’s you providing the vocals. In fact, he likes it so much he occasionally catches himself blatantly staring at you, utterly mesmerized by your presence.

Regardless of whether you’ve had your allotted breaks, as soon as he notices a dip in your energy, he’ll kindly coerce you to take one. Alfie especially likes the ones when it’s you two leaning against the counter, observing the customers while having a cuppa.

And the customers like to keep an eye on you two as well. The latest hot gossip is all about “the bird and the King” and how “there’ll perhaps be a gentler reign of the borough”.

Maybe there will be. Alfie tries to reign himself in when he’s around you, finds serenity in the feeling of your hand on his shoulder to signal to pipe down or let you take over lest things get out of control.

Lately he’s been into hugs. Like, he’ll pick you up and the first thing your groggy head has to deal with is a bear hug and sometimes being lifted into the air.

He can’t stop replaying the moment you compared hands. Can’t stop thinking about the confirmation of the size difference between you, yours much smaller than his. Ever since, Alfie sometimes allows to indulge himself by holding hands.

Out of sight of the other men, of course! Can’t have them tattering on like elderly ladies during afternoon high tea.

But his dreaming always gets rudely interrupted when a particular customer comes in. It doesn’t take long for Alfie to figure out who the stranger is because he needs “to know who comes in and out of me bloody kingdom” and the King has plenty of ears in the streets. So it doesn’t take long for him to acquire a name and the man’s background.

John Price, a captain in the British Army who went through enough to drive any man insane. Saw Hell itself.

Damaged beyond repair like him.

Yet a good man who’s trying to court his secret favourite dove.

A good man who can offer her more than an old gang boss can.

Nonetheless, there’s the toxic burn of jealousy mixed with seething rage whenever he sees you two talk. Sees how well you get along.

Alfie has to force himself to walk away, to rampage in the background among the men when he sees how Price makes you smile and blush. Fortunately, there’s soundproofing in the building. Otherwise, the customers and you would find out his anger is even more white hot than the ovens.

And he reaches the boiling point more often from the day the captain’s cologne becomes more noticeable on you. It’s an unfair trigger to pull on an honourable man. Or so he keeps grumbling and effin and blindin about despite knowing better.

Despite knowing he’s simply too late.

He hates how you’re inconsolable when John’s sent out on a mission. Doesn’t matter how long or short it is.

Now, the King of Camden is a master when it comes to the art of masks so the front you try to put up is nothing but a crumbling act to him. Dips in energy, distant gazes, little eating, they’re all tell-tale signs you miss your captain. Nonetheless, being an opportunist, Alfie uses the circumstances to his advantage by cooking and cleaning for you. Sometimes he even stays the night, but only when you ask him to. To others it may sound odd, asking your boss to stay with you, but to you it doesn’t because Alfie isn’t simply your boss.

He’s a very dear friend.

(And your protector, your “guardian fucking golem”)

Alfie doesn’t ask about your dates, but will occasionally indulge you when he notices you’re afraid to talk about them even though you really want to.

“‘Ow was your date?” he asks on such a morning while cleaning up the dishes of your impromptu breakfast. That small moment during which you shared the food he prepared. Those few minutes in which it was just you two. Together.

“It was really nice. We got coffee and walked around Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park for a bit.” As per usual, you don’t dare meet his gaze because you fear your happiness and excitement will wear him down. It’s part of the reason you avoid using John’s name. After all, the badly concealed frown hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“I ‘ope ‘e’s the one who paid.”

“He did.”

“‘E treating you well?”

“Yeah, he does.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“Alfie, alright?”

“Yeah, just… just in me own noggin. You know me. I’m glad you ‘ad a good time. Otherwise I’d ban ‘im from the bakery. The whole fucking borough. ‘E’d be-“

“Thank you.”

Alfie’s surprised you cut him off. Had it been anyone else, they’d likely be face flat on the ground and a wiser person for it, but if it’s you he doesn’t mind. In fact, when the conversation turns towards your love life and John, he’s glad you shut him up. After all, what do you care for his feelings? They’re unreciprocated anyways. “For what?”

“For letting me talk about him. I… I got the impression you didn’t want me to.”

“You let me talk about whatever, so why wouldn’t I return the favour? But enough chit chat. Come on, we got work to do.”

If only to forget about the plot he might have for a new Edna Specter novel.

The Tragedy of Alfie Solomons.

The Baker with a broken heart.

Bonus:

Oh gods, imagine Alfie and Price having a stare-off when Alfie picks you up at your place and John stayed the night. To make matters worse, the captain knows about the King’s feelings for you.🙀

P.S: I’m sorry, but I have to include more Barry Sloane because this man has me in an ABSOLUTE CHOKEHOLD🥵😻

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

[whentommymetalfie]

Update: Chapter 9 is up

Tommy is not sure how he’s ended up here. On the surface it appears like a dream, the penthouse in Soho, the successful husband who never misses an opportunity to spoil him, a life full of expensive dinners and parties. But beneath the glimmering surface lies a darkness unlike anything else.

One late night in an overcrowded ER, he meets someone who finally sees him. And from that moment on, something changes.

Sequel to 'All for Nothing'

Pairings: Established Tommy/Luca, eventual Tommy/Alfie

Warnings: Domestic violence, emotional/psychological abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, eating disorders

[westerosiladies]

Starklings Modern AU

[justrainandcoffee]

2017

"Like the old days" Alfie had said.

Meaning of "Let's do a road trip together. No GPS, no smartphones. Just maps, a compass and a camera to take pictures."

Tommy knew it was a bad idea. But...

They were in America. Their first trip together as a couple. Travelling in a rental car around the country didn't sound that bad at the beginning.

Alfie was driving because according to him, Tommy drove like a granny.

The first days were the best. It was autumn but the sun was still warm. They stopped in several places, enjoyed the landscapes and the mutual company. Very new relationship, their love was still pure.

Problems started the sixth day.

"Why don't you admit that you don't know how to read a map, sweetheart?"

Tommy frowned. "I always said that I don't know how to read a map, Alfie. You were very positive that I was going to learn soon."

Alfie pulled over and looked at his boyfriend "yes, well my bad. And now where are fucking lost."

"Because you didn't want to bring a GPS."

"No. They're annoying. Turn left, turn right... Fuck off."

"The best we can do it's to wait until a car pass and ask for help," Tommy said "Any ideas what to do in the meantime?"

Alfie smirked before kissing him, "Yeah. A few."

Alfie x Tommy masterlist.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

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

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

Words - 7,478

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ lies!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Alfie,” she warned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it!” 

Some things never changed.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mimi had taught her well.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s kicking me, dad!” 

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

“But dad!” 

“Enough, my son!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How things had changed, and all for the better. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!”  

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

“Got time for a quickie?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how she did.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfie never would either. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That went for all five of them. 

The End.  

[mask-of-anubis]

Fabian: Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.

Alfie: Yeah, because you’re alwaysss right.

Fabian: You know honestly, I’d love to be wrong sometimes, but I just don’t live with the right people for that.

[dreamlandcreations]

The One That Got Away

modern gangster!Alfie Solomons x undercover cop!Reader

Summary: this prompt in this AU

Warnings: it's Alfie... so language, angst, fluff, mutual pining, enemies to lovers (sort of, not yet bc you know, idiots), you are hurt and Alfie is ready to kill anyone who was involved in it 🥰

You silently prayed he would keep his bad habit of working late so you could find him in his office at his first and favourite bar.

Sighing in relief when the back door opened after a few knocks, you barely held yourself up with one hand on the doorframe while your other palm pressed on the wound on your abdomen.

"What the fuck?" the man standing in front of you exclaimed so loudly you winced at the volume.

Before you could answer though, your remaining strength just left you and you ended up collapsing into his arms. The last thing you were aware of was his worried expression looking down at you.

Waking up to the doctor on Alfie's payroll stitching you up was not how you imagined your day would go. The gangster held you down as the doctor worked and you weren't spared from the questioning even in the midst of pain.

"What the fuck happened?" was Alfie's first question, not even waiting for an answer before the next followed with a growling tone that sent shivers down your spine. "Who did this to you?"

"Doesn't... matter," you wheezed, fighting to stay conscious.

"Doesn't matter?!" he exclaimed, his grip tightening.

"Not...your problem."

"Well, it is my bloody problem now, isn't it? With you fucking bleeding out on my fucking couch from a fucking bullet wound."

You grit your teeth as you answer. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

He sighs and you could leave it at that but you know the man, if he doesn't get the answers from you, he will look elsewhere and you couldn't let that happen. You couldn't put him at risk.

As the doctor just finished, Alfie let you go, not anticipating that you'd try to stand up.

"I will get out of here and you can forget this ever happened," is all you could say before your knees buckled and you collapsed again.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

You wince at the yell as Alfie lifts you up and tells the doctor to get out. You expected him to put you back on the couch but he sits down with you, not letting you out of his arms.

He sighs again, trying to calm down, at least enough to get proper answers out of you. Then he huffs as you refuse to meet his eyes.

"You will tell me who shot you and I will take care of it," he murmurs his demand while pressing his forehead against the side of yours. At that you can't resist anymore, you look up at the man who made you question everything you ever believed in and once again, for the millionth time since you've known him, you are tempted to kiss him and if his flickering gaze is any indication, he might feel the same pull too.

Squirming in his lap results in a sharp stab of pain and you gasp before turning away, hiding your face against his bloodied shirt. He feels your tears but you don't make a sound, not even as he hugs you closer, trying to give you some comfort.

"I didn't want to drag you into this," is an apology and pleading at the same time, with the "he's a cop" as your final warning.

He doesn't care, not anymore. Alfie let you go once, it will not happen again. He will make sure you are safe, whatever it takes.

[potter-solomons]

[look-at-the-soul]

Cia!!! Thank you so much for always providing inspiration via your gifs!! I hope you like this 🤭 it’s been on my mind for a while hile…

He should’ve paid attention

Tommy Shelby x reader (and Alfie Solomons)

Opening the door of his office, Tommy sighed loudly, it had been a long meeting and he had been worried his wife would storm in any minute, demanding him to stop whatever business he was planning to do.

Speaking of which, his wife was nowhere to be seen.

And that was the perfect reason to worry, because she was the one who knew these fucking people, he recognized a face or two, but to be honest he would never understand what was the purpose to throw a party like this for their daughter’s christening. In his opinion it should be something small but he had nothing to do with the planning of such event, so he really didn’t have a thing to say.

A maid almost spilled the drinks on a guest.

As he moved across the people, he gave Johnny Dogs a disapproving eye side look, catching him and a maid coming out from the coat closet, Arthur was rolling up his sleeves already, he just hoped his brother wouldn’t start a fight in that moment. Polly and Ada were chatting in a corner, sipping his expensive champagne.

And if Y/N wasn’t with them, then he didn’t know where else to look for her.

The group of people before him suddenly moved backwards, like making a human wall, revealing Y/N standing over there facing him, but looking directly at another man he first didn’t recognize because he had his back at him.

Time stopped when his wife placed her hand on the man’s arm and laughed freely, then he saw his baby girl squirming in that man’s arms and he felt his blood boiling, in a few long strides he reached his wife, finally seeing that man’s face… finding Alfie holding his daughter.

It took him a couple of seconds to process what was happening.

“Alfie what are you doing here?”

“Oh, hello mate, I was just telling your lovely wife she has a great taste, she added a home-like touch to this place, didn’t she?” Alfie looked up at the eye-catching chandelier above them, the place exuded luxury.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” This was a family gathering and Alfie certainly attracted a lot of attention.

“Well, darling… you know how I just couldn’t stay away from eating those biscuits while I was pregnant, so I asked Frances to track down the bakery that made them, and it turned out to be Alfie’s.” She wrapped her hand around his arm and gave him that look he knew so damn well, the one that said she was about to get things done her way. “So I thought how Mr. Solomons has been so helpful to your business and I decided to ask him and his wife Edna to be our Sophie’s Godfather and Godmother.”

Tommy stopped listening in that moment, he felt like he was underwater, words were said in slow motion and he wasn’t able to keep up.

He looked at his wife, waiting for the moment she would say she was only joking. But that didn’t happen.

The collar of his tuxedo seemed tighter suddenly.

From all of the people…

“Look at that face, I told you he wouldn’t agree.” Alfie shook his head while hitting him slightly on the shoulder with his cane.

“Well he told me to take care of everything.” Y/N defended her choice. “I asked him who did he want and he said…”

“Whoever you choose is right, but you forgot to mention your options love.” Tommy tried to remain calm, having Alfie as part of his closest circle wasn’t his cup of tea.

“He never listens to me.” Y/N explained to Alfie, brushing Tommy off.

“I know, I keep saying him the same thing.” Alfie agreed.

“Why are you two talking like I’m not here?” He took his sleepy daughter from Alfie’s arms. “You probably should have mention this earlier, don’t you think?”

Y/N shuddered. “You barely pay any attention to anything I say anyways.”

Tommy tilted his head, feeling the veins in his temple pulsing.

“Why don’t you calm down mate?” Alfie proposed. “Have some air.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“What’s the big deal? You’re friends, Alfie is a great baker, he’s funny….” Y/N had a long list of tributes but she decided to keep it short judging by the look Tommy gave her.

Alfie took the child from his arms and gave the bundle to her mother, to then pat Tommy on the shoulder, keeping his voice down.

“Look mate, if anything happens to you, I’ll look after your child, hmm? Uncle Alfie to the rescue.”

Tommy groaned. The only worse thing that could happen to him apart from doing business with Alfie Solomons was having him as the Godfather of his daughter.

But it was too fucking late to try to do something now.

Next time his wife asked his opinion, he would pay attention…

****

Blurbs

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane

@raincoffeeandfandoms I tagged you Flor for Alfie 🤭

[cillianscrybaby]

Everything is for sale...There is always a price

(A part 2 of a Peaky Blinders fic I've started. If you're a fan of the show you know the themes and violence so that's your WARNING.)

Things changed a bit after Tommy put you to work directly in his home, keeping you more so around his office and bedroom to make sure things are tidy. Barely anyone looked at you and it was rare anyone but Tommy spoke, he had seemed to have gotten used to reading your expressions or gestures so you didn't have to bother with attempting to speak.

Tommy was a mix of both, quiet a lot in his own mind but stern with others along with yelling at times he was angry. You've been observing him as much as he's observed you, a silent agreement that he's never raised his voice or struck you and you listen and keep things tidy. You assumed there was a rule that no one touches you after you knifed one of his men two months ago.

Things might seem good but you didn't forget who's house you're in. Tommy Shelby. Peaky fucking Blinders.

"You keep her around for a fuck now and then, Tom?", Arthur asks, laughing a bit as he downed a glass of whiskey.

"No. No, she keeps the place tidy.", Tommy sighs.

"At least she don't talk or make much noise. Probably fun to have without all the bullshit chatter.", Arthur adds in, refilling his glass.

"She can talk.", Tommy says bluntly.

Author sends a sideways glance, "Oh?"

Tommy nods, content.

Clicking the door open as quietly as you could, you paused slightly at the sight of Tommy and Arthur sitting around Tommy's desk. It wasn't allowed for you to clean when there were meetings and honestly you didn't care for any of the business as long as you knew enough to keep yourself alive.

Tommy waved his fingers at you, signaling it was okay and you gave a small nod, making yourself busy to gather empty glasses that needed washed.

It was silent, only the sounds of them drinking, your steps, and if their eyes watching you could make noise you were sure you could have heard it. Tommy picks up his glass, downing a big gulp of gin before placing it on the table.

"That'll be enough staring, Arthur.", Tommy clears his throat, you didn't even look up as you take the glasses away.

"What's your name?", Arthur asks, your eyes flicking up to him and then Tommy before looking at the glasses you had gathered on the tray.

Tommy drums his fingers on the desk, a light smile on his lips that he hid, it was bold of you to not reply, especially to a Peaky Blinder, although he knew you could handle yourself after you knifed a man for touching you.

Arthur sighs, rubbing his face, as much as the silence was interesting it unnerved him too, not used to a woman not answering him.

"Y/N...", Tommy rasps, "Her name is Y/N."

Again, a sideways glance from Athur, amused that Tommy knows that, "She told you?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows, shaking his head no. Your back was turned to them, tidying up another table in the corner, your own hidden smile on your lips that begins to fade as Tommy contuines speaking.

"I asked her father. I paid him a visit to ask a few questions and her name was one of those questions.", he speaks like you aren't in the room and maybe it bothers you, "Another question was why did he beat her voice out of her."

Maybe you picked up the tray a little too hard, a glass falling over and clinking against another but thankfully it didn't break. You could feel their eyes on you as you were making your way out of the office without being dismissed, again, a bold action but one Tommy let you do. You remember the bruising on Tommy's knuckles after he had been out one day not long after you had started work in his home, he must have went to see your father, you know that now.

Blinking back tears, it ashamed you of what you've dealt with but every day you've tried to convince yourself it made you stronger. How many women would knife a man, right? As your shoes clicked the hardwood floors, taking the tray to the kitchens, a man in a suit almost bumps you as he's wandering the house.

"Excuse me?", he looks down at you, eyes scanning to see that you're a servant. He's not a Peaky Blinder, the hair is all wrong, you can tell, but he wears a fine suit. No doubt someone in business with Tommy.

"I'm looking for Tommy Shelby.", he tells you, his accent thick.

You point him towards the office, walking away.

Alfie Solomons walks himself into Tommy's office, opening the door with the confidence of seeing an old friend and an old enemy that things are familiar with, "Tommy, my boy, you've got nothing but rude staff.", he tuts.

Arthur snickers to himself, getting up to get a fresh glass, "You've met the new staff."

Alfie shifts on his feet before walking himself to sit down where Arthur had been, "I asked a simple question an all she did was point. Didn't even offer a drink."

"You asked a simple question. You get a simple answer.", Tommy shrugs, steepling his fingers.

"Let's just get this fucking meeting over with.", Arthur grunts.

"No. Absolutely not.", Tommy tells him.

Arthur was silent.

Alfie staring back.

"Not for sale. I've made that clear. She's not part of the deal.", Tommy doesn't like repeating himself.

"Everything's for sale. Everything has a price. Isn't that what you always say?", Alfie asks.

(I'm sorry this was so long. I'm honestly surprised anyone read the first part. So, thank you all.)

[zablife]

Alfie's Bedtime Stories

Alfie x gf reader

Summary: (Modern AU) Alfie likes to read before bed, but his change in routine during lockdown has you worried for his mental health.

Author's Note: A quick blurb written for @cillmequick 100 follower celebration. Congratulations once again, darl! I hope you enjoy this silly bit of fluff!

Warnings: pandemic theme, language

As you climbed the creaky stairs for bed, you heard your boyfriend’s voice rumble lowly as he read a familiar story from your childhood. You wondered what he could possibly be doing reciting Little Red Riding Hood and you began to worry lockdown had finally driven your boyfriend insane.

As you entered your bedroom, you clapped a hand over your mouth to stifle a giggle as you took in the scene before you. Alfie was rested against the headboard holding a children’s storybook and your bullmastiff who appeared to be wearing a small top hat. “Alf, what are you doin’ with the dog?” you inquired carefully.

“Readin’ him his bedtime story,” Alfie said with a shrug as though it were a perfectly natural thing to do. Now you knew he had lost his mind.

“Why does he have a top hat though?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Alfie leaned down to nuzzle the dog with his cheek whispering loudly, “Mummy’s judging us. Don’t listen to her, mate. I think you look like a proper gent.” 

You held your hands up in surrender. “I promise, I wasn’t, love. Can I join you?” you asked trying to make amends.

“Yeah, of course,” Alfie said pulling back the covers with a flourish. “Won’t be long now," he promised. "I skip the last two pages,” he explained, thumbing through the book thoughtfully.

“May I ask why?” you said, snuggling into his side and resting a hand on his broad chest to get comfortable.

Alfie looked down at you with an incredulous look as though you were a mother who had forgotten her child’s worst fear. “He’s scared of the w-o-l-f, dove, innit?” he replied shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Of course,” you said, nodding with a mock serious expression. “So how do you end this tale?” you wondered aloud.

Alfie blinked at you slowly before he answered dryly, “He’s a dog. I just stop fuckin’ readin’, don’t I?” 

-----------------------------

Tag list:

@cillmequick

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@tommydoesntpayforsuits

@shelbydelrey

@alanadetigy

@wandawiccan60   

@easilyobessedbutflighty

@severewobblerlightdragon

@lovemissyhoneybee

@theshelbyslimited

@kittycatcait219

@peakyrogers

@christinasyellowflowers

@retromafia

@notyour-valentine

@theshelbyclan

@solomons-finest-rum

@vir-tual

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / Chapter Ten

a peaky blinders Modern AU balletcore story?

Chapter List

Previous Chapter (in case u missed it bc tumblr is being weird)

John

"Don't like this John," hummed Esme where she sat in the bedroom window, her hair wild and long, trailing down her back her curls knotting down to her lower back, brushing over her bare thighs when she turned to look at me over her shoulder. She'd been up half the night with the baby and now that the littlen had finally settled down she was sitting alone watching the dark garden, wearing one of my tshirts, one which had been worn to death and had grown with her baby belly throughout her last pregnancy. She still wore it now, when it was late and she couldn't sleep. She'd taken to sitting in that window all through the night, starring out at the garden like a caged bird, smoking her cigarettes one by one.

"I know love," I sighed stepping up behind her, letting my hands hold her shoudlers, thumbs rubbing over the bones. "Won't be for long, we'll go back to the farm soon..."

"Thats what you say," she said turning back to the garden with the dark shadowy eyes of a girl. A girl pining. Which is what I knew she was. She was restless and she had been for a long time, long before this shit with the Italians. I'd been trying my best on the farm, trying to help her feel free, connected to the earth. I humoured her when she walked out in the garden barefoot, curling her toes into the muddy vegetable patches when it rained. I'd promised her we'd travel, that we'd pack up and take the kids with us, and I'd meant to keep that promise. But now there were other shadows looming over us, and not just over me and her but the whole family. And keeping my promise to Esme would mean betraying my brothers and sisters.

I couldn't even toy with the idea. Of course sometimes the way Tommy was made me want to say fuck it and leave, but the rest of them, no. I couldn't leave Ada and the twins. Couldnt abandon Arthur who needed the family to stay together more than any of us.

And even Tommy, at the end of the day, no matter how cruel he could be, how unfeeling, he was still my big brother. And he wasn't as selfish as he seemed, it just takes a lot to lead a family, especially one like ours. He was just doing his best to be the person steering our battered ship.

"We're never leaving here," Esme said, her voice low and dark and gloomy like the empty garden at night. That expanse of lawn, so tame. That wall of trees just that, a wall that hedged us all in. Marked out our bit of land and kept it ours. A perimeter that  Esme understood, kept her caged.

That was why she spent her evenings starring out at it with dark eyes and a heavy heart. Smoking her cigarettes. Making me feel all kinds of guilt and inadequacy.

"We will flower, just as soon as this is all over, gonna take you and the littlens far away," I said leaning over her, tilting her head right back so that i could kiss her from above. I meant it, in my heart when I said it I meant it but we were neither of us naive and so we both found ourselves looking out at the garden then, whistful and doomed.

This wasn't going to be over quickly. Might never be over at all.

The house was quiet but only just and only for now, the twins had gone to bed, too shaken up for my liking - and I felt guilty for that because I'd aided in the shaking - but Arthur hadn't returned with Ada and I knew that she had all the fight of little Sylvie and all the zeal of having grown up in a shithole like small heath. That is to say I knew she wouldn't be affraid to tell Tommy exactly what she thought of him. How much of a cunt she thought he was.

When our mother had died Tommy had stepped up for the girls because they were only small and suddenly left without a mother or a father to care for them. He'd tried to be that father figure to the best of his ability, which was limited because he'd never really had a sturdy father figure himself. As a result the girls had wound up with this fear of him, that fear only a father can instill. In healthy relationships its known as respect but theirs was a distant and troubled relationship and so fear was the only way of describing it. Ada hadn't had that, didn't fear him and probably wouldn't ever. So I knew that when she got here she'd do the shouting and the fighting for all three of them. Wouldn't give a fuck that it was 4 in the morning and the littluns were in bed, that I was in bed, only just managing to drift off. Would blame me for that, would tell me it straight.

"Ada will stay," said Esme then, "she's not stupid she knows whats at risk..."

"Yeah," I sighed, "its the girls ain't it," I said, "gonna be trouble..." I said and she smirked as if to say 'you don't know the half of it' but I did because every step of the way we'd done everything wrong. We'd sent them away, let them grow up wild in some far away city, in a boarding school that taught them how to lie and cheat their way to the top, taught them they could have everything they wanted if they were cut throat and selfish, if they thought only about where they were trying to go and took wild risks, pushed themselves too far.

And it was obvious looking at Sylvie, that the both of them had taken on board everything that theyd been taught. That they weren't affraid to push themselves too far, test their limits. That they didn't mind their own safety when it came to taking risks to get what they wanted.

And they'd take these risks because we'd always tried to keep them sheltered, always tried to keep them seperate. The twins had never seen their brothers with bullets in their chests, they'd never seen the men we'd snatched from wives and children. They didn't really know what we did with the bodies. They didn't know about the arms severed, the threats sent. They didn't know the things we'd done to our enemies, they thought our wars were all money and talk but they were usually always retaliation to meetings gone sour, deals fucked up, families we'd made the mistake of only half slaughtering.

And because they didn't know any of those things, then they could never really understand what they were risking, what our enemies would do to them, how they would be used, how they'd be tortured.

It wasn't even a year passed since our Aunt Pol had narrowly escaped death at the hands of the Changretta's. They'd had her neck in a noose, left her balanced on her tip toes for days, a sinister act of torture we were all certain had tipped her over the morbid edge she'd been teetering on for years. They'd told her they had all of us, tricked her into believing that whilst she stood their desperately trying to keep her balance, feeling the strain of the noose against her neck every time she faltered, that each of us was fighting for our lives in an equally painful way.

No one knew, not even her, how she'd actually managed to escape. But it hadn't been any of us who had cut her down. Tommy said she must have done it, must have worked out a way to cut the bonds on her hands, to sever the rope around her neck. Polly insisted that it hadn't been. That it had been the ghost of her mother, that now she'd spent several days with death hovering around her, waiting for her muscles to spazm and falter, she could see death all the time. That she could hear the voices of those past, that she could see their shadows lingering around the living.

And though it all seemed a little mellodramatic to me, seemded like rot to Arthur, I could tell Tommy empathised with the darkness. And we couldn't laugh her off because of what she'd gone through. The days of pain, her muscles sore to burning, her adrenaline savaging her body so that when she finally returned home she was a shell of her former self. Something changed behind her eyes.

That was the darkness our fens were risking every time they fought back against Tommy. If they disobeyed him, if we couldn't keep them here, safe with us, well, thered be no ghosts that came to save them.

"Sylvies got her brothers temper," said Esme, her strange impersonal judgements reminding me that they'd never really met. That the wedding had been the first and last time they'd seen one another. So it was all the more strange, all the more uncomfortable.

"Aye but which brother..." I smirked making her laugh, making her dark brooding eyes light up for a moment as she shook her head.

"Well," she let her smirk linger, her dimple etched into her expression so that she appeared impish in the pale nights light, "ain't arthurs is it..."

"Shes nothin like Tommy," I said shaking my head, refusing to believe that that could be true, refusing to believe that there was anything about my brother that could possibly have been passed onto little Sylvia who had always been so wild and sweet.

"They're like our mum," I said trying to reiterate my point. Trying to prove Esme's observation wrong, "I guess you wouldn't see that yknow," I shrugged turning away from the window, pulling my shirt over my head, knowing there was no point trying to get to sleep. Lying down anyway and asked her to lie down with me. For want of nothing else to do.

"Come on love, can't sit in that window all night you'll get cold..."

"What and I spose you're gonna keep me warm?" she asked turning with that clever little smirk, outsmarting me again.

"Aye," I said with a cheeky caught out grin of my own, "Somet like that aye..." I chuckled opening my arms out for her, letting her crawl across the bed to me, that too bed tshirt hanging from her soft curves as she moved feline and feminine over covers to come curl up in my arms.

I kissed her hair and let my hand trail over her thigh, fingers teasing a line up to the hem of her underwear. I knew how to ease her troubled mood, even now when her eyes were dark and I could see that she was worrying.

So we didn't get any sleep, and when Arthur returned with Ada and Karl, their voices ricochetting down the corridors, their disturbance caught me and Esme off guard. Her beanth me, her thighs trembling on each side of my neck as I ground my hips against her hips a little harder than before, burying myself deep inside her.

We'd been close when that front door had slammed and Karl had woken, started crying but the moment Ada's sharp words began tumbling vitriolic and shattering the silent house, we knew it was over.

"Fuck sake," whined Esme burying her face into my neck, clutching at me still, her body clinging tight to mine. She didn't want to let go and I didn't want to pull out and away from her but I knew that any second now Ada would be hammering her fist on that bedroom door demanding to drag me into the battle.

I laughed, let my grin linger because there was nothing else I could do. Just had to keep smirking through it and appreciate the humour of it all, forty fuckin one years old and still being cockblocked by my big sister.

So I accepted my fate, kissing Esme on the nose as I pulled out and she whimpered again. Smirking at her sweetness because it wasn't a side to her that came out very often. Had never been a side she liked to show. One it had taken me a long time to find hidden and secret beneath all those rough and wild layers of defense.

"To be continued," I said pecking her cheek, trailing teasing kisses down her body, leaving one between her legs that made her whine and then push me away, kicking at me playfully as she let out a dissatisfied sigh.

"Fuck sake John," she groaned as she pushed herself up and wrapped the covers around her. "I'm going to sleep, better not wake me up when you get back..." she threatened, her smouldering eyes teasing me, her sullen lips leaving me longing to kiss her again, push her buttons just a little more.

"Oh you'll be awake lass," I grinned, "Ada'll make sure of that..."

And Ada did make sure of that. She'd no patience because despite what he said, Arthur had done nothing to calm her on the journey home and even then, when I came stumbling into the corridor tugging my tshirt over my head, laughing at the drama of it all, Arthur was watching her despairing and nervous.

"Fuckin hell Ada some of us are tryna sleep here, its 4 in the fuckin mornin..." I said still chuckling, knowimg that I was risking her temper and carrying on anyway. I was her little brother afterall, I could get away with it if I tried.

"Perhaps you'd be having an easier night if you didn't always bend over backwards to accommodate our canniving pig of a brother," she said sharply, standing in the hallway lit up by the the little light coming in through the front door and the windows in the cieling.

She looked pale as a ghost and just as cold and I didn't know what to say to her because she wasn't wrong. Wasn't right either. I wouldn't have had an easier night because Tommy would have killed me and then he'd have sent someone else, someone like Isaiah, and then my ghost would have been haunting the halls all eternity with the guilt of having left my little sisters in the hands of someone else.

It wasn't that I wouldn't have trusted Isaiah with my sisters, it was that really when it came down to it, I didn't trust anyone with them. Not even my brothers. Not to do things right anyway.

If Arthur had gone for them he'd have lost his temper because he'd have been scared, because he'd have been paranoid that they didn't respect him, because he'd have been angry at himself for not being able to do as Tommy had asked. For not being the kind of brother his little baby sisters would trust.

If Tommy had gone, then the speech which had brought Sonya to petrified tears in the office that night, would have been given much sooner, with no care for the audience, no care for who was watching, recording or making notes. He'd have lost his temper because he'd have realised they only feared him, didn't respect him. And they were more delicate than either of them liked to let on. Sonya and Sylvia had always been a little less Shelby like our father. Much more like their mother than anyone wanted to admit.

I had noticed it in Sylvia straight away. The thin quality, that washed out pale tone, the greyish brown which shadowed her eyes, which lingered and left her looking tired. Sonya had hidden it better but I'd still seen it there. They were both just so much smaller than they should have been but I knew that if I mentioned it to my brothers they'd tell me I worried too much, that they were tougher than I gave them credit for.

"Ada love come on now eh its late, you'll wake the twins..." said Arthur, all sheepish and tired, one hand on the back of his neck, his features flushed, embarassed to be approaching 50 and still unable to quell his sisters temper. If there was one thing you could say about Ada it was that she'd always been the one to put us in our place. Humble us when we let our position and our reputation get to our heads.

"You care for their wellbeing so much then why in gods name would you drag em back to this fuckin place?" and then she sighed and shook her head, "fuckin go to bed arthur it aint you I need to speak to..."

"Tommys in his..." I trailed off when my eyes met my brothers down the hall, he was walking slowly, a shadow approaching, a cigarette unlit hanging between his lips.

"Ada love," he said making her jump but doing nothing to hush her or shake her determination. "Good to see you made it up safe an sound..." and when I saw his patronising little smile I resigned myself to a sleepless night and a long morning of achey heads and sore throats. Tension bristling.

It was exactly what we got, but not what we didn't deserve.

🔪🦢

"She won't forgive you you know..." said Polly the next morning when it was only myself and her left in the dining room.

Sylvie had left with an angry static buzzing all about her, Tommy had sent her to fetch Sonya and, in his usual tactless charm, had said something so patronising that I was surprised our Fen hadn't torn his head from his neck right in front of us.

"No," I said with a sad smirk, "Fens right, gonna fuck Sonyas whole career up ain't it, poor lass must fuckin hate us..." but when I said it Pol just chuckled and shook her head.

"I wasn't talking about Sonya," she said lighting up her cigarette and drawing in a long leisurely inhale, "Sonya knows she can't go back, I don't even think she's going to put up a fight..."

"Its Sonya who's losing her job not Sylvia," I shrugged a little confused, not understanding when Polly laughed.

"Ha," she said, "stupid lads the lot of you..." she turned her head from me, looking across the dining room and out the window at the gardens where the mist was just beginning to thin.

"What?" I couldn't keep the confusion off my face despite wanting to hide it, I hated it when she made me feel stupid like that, perhaps I deserved it, perhaps I was as daft as she said. Even so I didn't like the fact being highlighted so bluntly.

"Since their mother died those two girls have had only eachother... Their big brothers weren't there were they? In London? Learnt to look after one another didn't they..."

It was painful to hear it from her, our Aunt Pol who has always been the matriarch, the one who looked after us all, the one we all looked up to. She it was painful to hear her tell it so straight, how we'd let them down. How we'd abandoned them. Left two little girls down south on their own, fending for themselves among strangers.

"I should never have let him do that," said Polly then, her voice as dark and gravelly as her eyes, that harsh kind of doom lingering around her like a shadow. One of those auras she claimed to be able to see around people these days.

"When our Tom puts his mind to somet..." I started only to trail off, only to remember that none of us had really fought against it, "we all believed it was for the best..."

"Fools," murmured Pol sucking in another drag on her cigarette, watching the cloud of smoke linger and then disperse just in front of her, "the lot of us."

[dogmetaph0r]

If anyone is not already reading JustRosey’s “blue light pulls through the long crack in my wall” on AO3 (do they have a tumblr?? would love to follow) then you are MISSING OUT. as someone who’s done research in the field of brain injury and experienced several TBIs myself I am honestly so thrilled that there are writers out there who care so much about accuracy, sensitivity, and grace in dealing with the topic. it truly warms my heart even as it has me biting my nails all the way down in anticipation of the next recovery stumbling block. literally gasped out loud when I saw that there was an update today