#alfie solomons fic

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Say it Dirty - An Alfie Solomons/Reader One Shot Story.

For my babes @cillmequick and @zablife. Enjoy!

Words - 1,467

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

Alfie. One could never use the word tall to describe the gangster rum distiller of Camden town, but suffice to say, he is big. He takes up space. He has presence. Alfie is so wide in both physical width and the enormity of his personality, he fills whatever room he happens to be within.  

Everything about Alfie is imposing. That is why you fell for him in the first place. What gets your blood tingling with desire the most, though... 

“Next lad!”  

Oh, that enormous voice. He doesn’t shout often, but when he does, it sends your knees to jelly.  

“Next lad!” 

He’s handing out the weekly wages, the precise count out of pounds, shillings and pence into a small paper envelope, handing them to each of his employees for their, ahem, “baking” endeavours. The smell of the rum within the large casks fills your nose as you walk past them down in the dingy distillery, moving past the line and entering Alfie’s office.  

“Bear with me, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even need to look up from his desk to know you’ve arrived. He can smell the sweet notes of your perfume in a sea of rum and sweaty men a mile off. “Just gotta get these fellas paid, innit.”  

You perch on the edge of his desk, his hand moving to stroke your thigh fleetingly. “Next lad!” God, you’ll melt off the edge of the desk if you’re not careful. “Is there a fuckin’ reason you’re gorping, boy?”  

“Um, n-no, Mr. Solomons.”  

Alfie lowers his spectacles, raising his eyebrows. “You seriously comin’ in here for your pay, and giving me missus the once over with your beady little eyes while you’re here, eh? Nah, son. Off you fuck, while you still have them legs to carry ya. Just know, though. If I ever see you lookin’ at her like that again, yeah, it’ll be the last fuckin’ time you have eyes, mate.”  

The young man takes his wages with a stiff gulp. “S-s-sorry, Mr. Solomons.”  

“Ain’t me you was lookin’ at like a slab of meat.” He folds his arms, jerking his head in your direction, a smile spreading beneath his beard. “Apology should be directed at me wife, really.” 

“I apologise, Mrs. Solomons.” He’s steadier when talking to you, wringing his cap between his hands nervously all the same.  

Alfie studies you, watching you nod. “Alright, fuck off outta here. Next lad!” He scurries from the office, your husband continuing to hand out each wage envelope and mark it off with a pencil strike in the ledger. With the last lad paid, he stands, moving before you.  

“Now, how about I take my little turtle dove out for a bit of nosh, yeah?” Well, that’s the sole reason you came to meet him from work, after all. He goes for a quick wash and to change his shirt before you leave, yet when he returns, he finds you not quite as ready to leave as he is.  

The double take at seeing you sitting atop his desk naked is priceless, eyes touring your bare curves with much interest. “My darlin’, I dunno what kind of fuckin’ restaurant you think we’re going to, right, but it ain’t the kind where the customers sit about naked.”  

“Can’t help it,” you purr, pulling him close, hands smoothing over his fresh shirt. “See it’s when you raise your voice, Alfie, when you get defensive of me, too. It does things to me, that voice of yours.”  

He looks quietly thrilled at that. You don’t quite know how one can raise an eyebrow with cocky intent, but Alfie nails it every time. “Yeah, that right, love? You like the sound of my voice? Why don’t you sit on my cock while I talk to you, then?” 

Grasping his shirt, you pull him close. “That’s exactly what I had in mind, Alf.”  

Your lips meet in a slow tempest, all heat and honey, his hands beginning to glide where his eyes have already roamed, touring your bare flesh keenly. When his mouth follows, you whimper, each kiss sinking into your skin, the soft of his beard coaxing tickles over your flesh. Hot hands adorned in cool gold knead at your thighs, fingers slipping between.  

The sweet sting of him toying with your clit radiates, little pricks of pleasure trickling down your spine, puddling at those clever fingers, his teeth sharp at your neck. “Always did love my hands, didn’t ya, dove?”  

You hum in appreciative response against his tongue, mouths locked, those fingers you do indeed love so much thrusting within. He opens you, pushing greedily, his raspy chuckle low and self-satisfied at each little mewl that pours from your mouth like wine, your cunt clenching around each rotation as he roots those thick digits, so inordinately deep.  

“Fuck, get in the chair,” you pant, hands moving to slide his braces down, undoing his trousers. “I need to ride you. Now.” 

He chuckles, his thumb rolling over your clit sending sparks to skitter wildly. “Ain’t half a demanding little mare tonight, aint’cha?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe, Alfie letting his trousers and undergarments fall to pool at his ankles, sitting down in the chair and guiding you astride him. “But then I always did know what’s good for me.” Taking him, you squeeze the thick of his rigidity, pushing him to your glistening opening and dropping down until you’re full.  

You can feel every inch of him pressing your soft walls, thick and heavy, his hand weaving into your hair and pulling until you arch for him, bending like a crescent moon. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, look at that body bow for me. Can’t wait to watch these pretty little tits bounce while you ride me, darlin’.”  

His mouth devours you, nipples sucked and bitten, his free hand grasping your hip as you begin to roll against him, his girth sending sensations to flutter up your spine, fizzing like champagne bubbles, the hint of teeth upon the peak of your nipple sending glimmers to join them. “Ain’t even half started properly yet, and this sweet little cunt is like a fuckin’ lake. Yeah, look at you. So fucking pretty for me, ain’t ya? So pretty and sweet, split open on me.”  

His words mist hot beneath your skin, rising like steam, the torrent of seductive filth unabating. “Think I could have you like this on me for hours, and I wouldn’t get tired of watching you gripping tight on my cock. And you would, wouldn’t ya? Yeah, you’d keep giving, my beautiful, cock hungry little doe.”  

His thumb stretches, and it sends a rain of pleasure pelting through you when he brings it to your clit, circling, your bundle twitching against the stroke, your toes gripping on the floorboards beneath as you begin to ride him with more determination. “That’s it, sweet. Show me how much you love this cock.”  

The moan seeps from your lips, sweet and slow, like thick syrup, the clasp of your cunt tight upon him, the sound of him punching into the very wet of you lewd, mixing with the slap of your arse smacking hard against his solid thighs. It’s a symphony of utter sin, his groans adding delicious baritone, your tits bouncing, his hands moving to clutch them as his tongue swipes your cleavage.  

His touch has lightning forking from nerve to nerve, your ministrations greedy in desperate need to come around him, wet his cock further with the dew of your orgasm, your hands fisting tight in his hair, a shift of his hips sending him deeper into the flutter of your cunt.  

You sob his name, and he pushes even deeper, so heavy and overwhelming within you. “Come on, my beautiful little darlin’. Come pretty for me on this cock.”  

Oh, how you do, the pleasure burning neon through your nerves, a sky of colours painted over you as it topples you completely. The scream it pulls from you has him twitching, and he becomes caught in the tide of it, cock pressed filthily deep into the rhythmic clasping of you, spilling hard, everything tense undoing and softening to fluid bliss. You both swim in it, adrift on the endless ocean, panting against one another.  

“Fuck, that worked up a right appetite,” he finally breaths, kissing your neck as you roll your eyes. 

“Do you ever cease thinking about your stomach?” 

He chuckles, low and dirty. “Yeah. I often think about how good me wifey feels when she fucks me like she just did. And you can count on it, treacle, that I’ll be thinkin’ about it for the rest of the night an’ all.” 

The way he keeps stealing heated glances at you all the way through dinner, you’re left in little doubt of that, too.  

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie aolomons x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons imagine #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut

[imaginesmai]

Alfie Solomons - Night adventures

I've been sick for week now with the worst stomach bug ever, and this has been on my mind for a few days! Welcome back Alfie to my blog!

Plot: Alfie doesn't come home from work and you worry something has happened, so you decided to go to the bakery.

Warning: Alfie's vocabulary is just saying fuck, really.

The streets were empty, too late for the common citizens and too early for the unfortunate first-shift workers. You had only found a beggar sleeping in a pile of boxes and two men trying to get home stumbling through the pavement. The silence, the darkness, would have been a good reason to turn back and worry about him under the covers, warm and safe. When a cat jumped from a window and landed on a car, you actually took a few steps back.

But Cyril stared at the menace until the animal hissed its way back to wherever it belonged.

Swallowed in one of Alfie’s long coats, with his hat covering your face, you finished the thirty minutes’ walk to the bakery. A faint light was coming from the top floor, and anyone would have thought bakers were starting their day early.

You knew it was your husband, Alfie, who hadn’t finished his yet. There was a man posted on the back entrance, the one you always used when you came to see him unexpected. It was closer to his office, it was more discreet, and besides, you knew Ollie. He would be one less problem for you that night.

When the boy saw you approach him, his whole back tensed. His hand made it to the holster on his hip before he recognized Cyril and your soft smile, once you were close enough. The soft street light let you see his panicked stare.

“What – Y/N, what the fuck are you doin’ here?” he quickly grabbed you by your arm and, checking both sides, pushed you inside the bakery. “It’s fuckin’ two in the mornin’!”

“I am aware of that, Ollie, since I also own a watch” you told him, taking down your hat.

“How did you get – does he know you’re here?” Ollie, who had been almost asleep leaning against the door, was now growing agitated. “You didn’ brin’ a car. You walked?”

“Me and Cyril, yeah”

The familiar warmth of the bakery felt good against your sore muscles. Not only you had half-jogged half-ran for thirty minutes, but the tension of the night and the worries for him had made the cold weather of November seep into your bones. You weren’t about to let Ollie notice how glad you were to be finally somewhere safe, because that would only prove a point you were trying to avoid.

“Y/N, it’s the middle of the night”

“So it is for my husband, who was supposed to be home with me. But that big head must have forgotten his own watch at home, given he’s still here”

“He’s not alone. Someone came to see him, and the meetin’… yeah, it was longer than wha’ he thought”

“Oi, wha’ that noise ‘bout, yeah?” a booming voice came from the floor above you, the door of his office banging open. “Didn’ I ask for silence?”

Alfie, in all his grumpy and broody glory, leaned against the railing and saw both of you. You weren’t surprised to see he was still wearing his working clothes, a small, stained pinny wrapped around his waist. His hair was sticking in different directions from being tugged at, and his face complemented his mood when he locked eyes with you.

Of course, Cyril tried to reach him and let his presence be known with loud barks. You passed his leash to Ollie and made your way up to your husband’s office. The metal stairs echoed under your shoes, and even if you kept your eyes on them, you felt his on you every second.

Far from being intimidated or angry, you felt your worries melting away. He usually came home before the sun set – had picked that tradition years ago once you were officially married and hadn’t missed a day. But it had been a rough week for the both of you, and when he hadn’t shown up, you had feared the worst. Patiently, you had waited and called his office. After not receiving an answer and not hearing the door, you had decided to check for yourself.

You weren’t naïve enough to go alone, but since there wasn’t anyone around to accompany you, Cyril had been your bodyguard for the night. Many things could have happened. Some of them you could imagine, some remember from past experiences because of his enemies’ retaliations. All of them were present in Alfie’s eyes as you reached the top of the stairs and met him face to face.

“Hello”

His nostrils flared and he pressed his lips in a tight line, but behind all of that there was just fear. You waited until he looked at every part of your body, from your soft smile to the hem of your skirt. One of your hands took his fist and didn’t let go until he held it. Alfie didn’t let his frown go as he raised it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Aren’ your suppos’ to be in bed” he growled against your hand.

“With you, but you didn’t come and I was worried” you explained, moving a step closer to him. “Called and no one answered. I didn’t know if… so I came to check. Brought Cyril with me”

“Stupid dog knows you ain’t suppos’ to leave” Alfie looked down at Cyril, and his eyes softened. “You alrigh’, yeah? Nothin’ happen?”

“I’m fine. Just tired. And worried about you”

“Come ‘ere”

You fell into his arms and the remains of worry and tension left your body. He smelt like rum, bread and sweat, like home. You closed your eyes when his hand found the back of your head and pressed it against his shoulder. Later, you would probably have a long conversation about what you had done. Not only it had been reckless, but if you had been right, there wasn’t much you could have done.

His life came with highs and downs, and you had been there enough to know them. That doesn’t meant you had grown used to the feeling of not knowing if he was fine or not, if he was alive. When you hugged him closer, your arms around his middle, you let him know that you were glad.

Someone opened the door and you saw Tommy Shelby walking out of Alfie’s office. You didn’t like that man, neither did he like you, but you both respected each other enough. Eventually, their relationship would go south, either because of his or Alfie’s biggest interest; and you just hoped it wouldn’t go too south.

Alfie noticed his stare and turned around. Instinctively, you were covered by his huge back, not seeing anything but the sweaty locks at the back of his neck.

“I believe we were in the middle of something”

“And I believe it’s time for my husband to come home” you said from behind Alfie, trying to move around. Effectively, Alfie moved with you.

“Your’ gonna ‘ave to excuse my wife, mate. She’s right, ain’t she” Alfie said. He gripped your hand again and made you stay in place.

When it came to you and the business, Alfie Solomons had always had it clear. You had walked into his life and turned everything around, and if needed to, he would leave it all behind if you asked to. You always came first, no matter what. He could come home late, share his matters with you and attend to political galas by your side, but if you asked something, he could not say no.

So he stared down at Tommy, who had been arguing for the past six hours. He had just showed up when he was about to close the bakery, and the bouquet of flowers he had bought you was now sad and forgotten in the storage room.

“Alfie” Tommy warned him. “We need to close the deal. I’m not about to risk half my percentage if you aren’t willing to take the risk”

“The only risk I’m takin’ tonig’ is this lovely lady back ‘ome”

“You don’t get to kick me out! I am –“

Before Tommy could grow any more aggressive, he had Alfie’s gun pressed tightly against his chin. The baker was a few inches shorter than him, but somehow, he stared down at Tommy, daring him to keep talking. The Shelby brother looked at you with your arms crossed, biting back his next words.

“Listen, now, cause I believe, this¸ right, this is my fuckin’ bakery. My fuckin’ rum. Money. Business. And that’s my fuckin’ wife your’ lookin’ at, so unless you wan’ to go ‘ome wit’ one less eye, Shelby, stop fuckin’ lookin’ at ‘er”

“Get your fucking hands – “

“Shut the fuck up! You, barkin’ orders, at me?! In my fuckin’ work?!” Alfie screamed into his face, making Tommy take a few steps back. When the man once more met your eyes with the same, disgusted face, Alfie struck him with the gun. “Are you fuckin’ deaf?! Don’ look at her or I’ll rip your eyes out with my nails!”

Cyril barked as if he supported his owner’s words. You looked down and noticed Ollie was no longer alone. There were three other men, that had appeared out of thin air, at the bottom of the stairs. All of them looked ready to climb it in less than a second.

Not too far away, Tommy’s men would be close. It wouldn’t be the first time Alfie got into trouble because of you, or the last. His protectiveness was founded, but sometimes he went a little overboard. Tommy had looked at you many times before, and had been threatened each time he had done it.

Some part of you wondered if he was a sucker for Alfie’s threats or was really looking for them to become true.

Before your night could escalate into bigger events, you moved behind Alfie and wrapped your hands around his raised arm. You had gone to the bakery to find out if Alfie was there, to retrieve him from his pile of work and hopefully catch a few hours of sleep by his side. After a long day of own work, you were tired and in need of some peace.

“Let’s just go home”

Under your touch, Alfie relaxed and dropped the gun. He kept his eyes locked on Tommy and the man was smart enough to clean the blood of his lip and turn back. You guessed his men should be on the main entrance, and you were really thankful you had chosen the back one.

You watched him disappear. Watched, in silence, as the group of men that had surrounded you went back to their corners where you couldn’t see them. Alfie didn’t bother retrieving anything from his office, just closed the door and let you lead the way down the stairs.

Once you were down, he nodded to Ollie and the boy disappeared, carrying Cyril with him.

“That was dangerous, pet” he said, his voice soft. There was a rough, scared edge you had grown to notice through the years. “You, yeah, you can’t jus’ come ‘ere. You need to tell me”

“I know, Alf. But I did call. And you always answer. I knew you had a meeting and since you didn’t come home, I didn’t know what to think” you told him, not giving him. “What if it was the other way? What if I didn’t come home one night? Wouldn’t you come looking for me too?”

“I’d burn down fuckin’ Camden, luv, you know tha’”

“Then you can’t get angry at me, not at this. I was careful, nothing happened”

It hadn’t happened, but it could. Not only Alfie’s enemies. Night in Camden Town held more dangers than mobsters or gangs, ones that didn’t know who you were married to and weren’t afraid of your husband. It was irresponsible, dangerous, and you knew better.

It wasn’t the time, though, and Alfie knew it.

“Alrigh’, pet, alrigh’. Jus’ try not to send me to an early gave, yeah?”

“You won’t get rid of me even in a grave, Alfie Solomons”

His laugh echoed in the empty bakery. Alfie wrapped his coat closer to your body, not saying anything about your choices of clothes, and put his hat back into your head. Always the gentleman he opened the door for you and dragged you closer to his side.

You didn’t take the path you had walked, but the opposite way. Ollie’s car was waiting for you at the other end of the street, Cyril probably a looming threat in the backseat ready to tackle Alfie as soon as he opened the door. Finally in peace, you wrapped your arm around his middle and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Love you” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Yeah, luv you too, don’ I”

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated!

#alfie #alfie solomons #alfie imagine #alfie one shot #alfie x reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #alfie solomons fic #imaginesmai #imaginemai #imagines mai #imagine mai #tom hardy #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy one shot #tom hardy x reader #tommy shelby

[charliehoennam]

A/N: fulfilling @j23r23's request made here. Happy reminder that requests are open!!

Summary: Alfie comes homes late at night and finds his pregnant wife sleeping on the couch and confesses his fear to his unborn child

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warning: sexual connotations towards the end, language, pregnancy themes

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

Alfie was never one to be easily scared. He had a tough upbringing and, being the man of the house to his two older sisters, Rebecca and Debora, and their divorced mother, he had to grow up fast.

His father had left before Alfie was even born, leaving his son to become the only man of the house.

Sure, his mother was quite the mama bear herself. But there had always been resentment from Alfie towards his unacquainted father for leaving his mother to fend for her children on her own.

Alfie vowed that, if he ever became a father, he would support and help the mother of his child however he could, no matter how unconventional.

You felt like the luckiest woman in the world to be married to him. Alfie was nothing like most men. Most men would participate very little in these affairs, believing them to be limited only to women, but not Alfie. And if anyone dissed him for it, he'll tell those cowards to fuck right off because he wouldn't leave you alone in one of the most painful moments of your life.

It wasn't very common for you either. Part of you was so worried about just having him present for the birth. You worried he wouldn't want to go anywhere near you after it - obviously after you've healed - or have another child.

"Love, after the war I've seen, there is no amount of blood that can scare me away. Now, I won't pry if you don't want me to, of course. I'll respect whatever boundaries you have. But I would like to be there to hold your hand at the very least," he'd say.

He was hellbent on getting you all the best doctors and only the most experienced midwives to assist with pregnancy and the labor.

He didn't avoid making love to you because you were pregnant. It surprisingly turned him him on, made him certain about getting a baby back into you as soon as he could.

Every night, he came home to you with your favorite sweet and treated you to a warm bath together entitled to a foot rub and back rub just before bed.

Every afternoon, he'd meet you exactly at 3 when the weather wasn't too sunny or cold for a walk around the square or the block.

Every morning, once it became harder for you to bend over, he'd kneel down every time to get your heels on for you and compliment how beautiful you looked.

Regardless of the arguments you'd have, he was always consistent with his help. It didn't matter how he felt, he put his feelings aside as he reminded himself that they were nothing compared to the human growing in your body.

Your unborn child had reminded him of his sisters struggles during their terms. Crying over their husbands' affairs, neglected and alone, desperately wondering how they would raise the child. He was only a boy at the time, but he made sure to remember their names.

Once older and stronger, he tracked down all the men responsible for breaking his sisters' hearts and punished them with a beat-down they'd never forget. He considered offing them, but he figured the very least they could do is provide financial support. So, before they could even speak right or breathe through a healed nose, he put them into jobs his contacts proposed especially to him in order to keep a close on them.

That was simply Alfie's nature. Protective and vengeful.

Despite barely having to lift a finger for anything ever since Alfie hired an entire team to assist you, your body still felt exhausted and heavy from the weight of the growing baby in your belly.

You found yourself sat on the couch with Cyril snoring peacefully at your feet, warmed by the crackling fireplace before you.

You wanted to lie in your bed and rest your swollen feet in the comfortable warmth of your cotton linens, but Alfie still wasn't home. You worried when he got home late.

It took one look at the winding wooden stairs to convince you to swing your legs up on the couch, stretching them over the plush cushions.

Closing the heavy book in your hand, you tucked it snug between your side and the back of the couch for a quick shut-eye.

When Alfie arrived home, he tried to be as quiet as possible. He wasn't sure if you'd gone to bed, but he did know you had trouble sleeping without him. Your limited sleep positions were nothing as comfortable as snuggling up to his side.

Locking the door, he hung up his coat and hat. Just before he could make it to the first step of the stairs, he heard Cyril's snoring coming from the living room. That's when he noticed the light radiating from the fireplace, dancing against your skin as you slept soundly.

He stood in the door watching you for a moment, basking in the image of your sleeping frame. The warmth of the fireplace could not compete with of that which spread through his chest.

Alfie smiled to himself as he gazed upon you, his eyes admiring every crevice and hair on your face. The line of your nose, the eyelashes you'd bat at him, the shape of your lips and the faint curve of your smile lines. He loved knowing he'd been the main cause of those particularly.

But, as his gaze moved down to your protruding belly, he was reminded how close the day was. He wondered how the months flew by so fast.

He felt like he had so much time to prepare for fatherhood, but he felt just as hopeless as when you first told him about the baby.

Stepping into the living room, he walked over quietly to join Cyril on the floor in front of the couch.

He stared into the fireplace as cyril shifted to rest his head on Alfie's lap - his laziest greeting yet.

Alfie sat on one side, leaving his opposite leg bent to rest his arm over his knee. Your belly was just inches away.

Moving his gaze back your clothed bump, he sighed heavily.

"You know, I never met my father, right," he whispered to the unborn child. "I think it's wise you know that now, 'fore you come out. Didn't have one growing up, see? So I 'avent got the slightest idea of how to be one."

Lured from your nap by Alfie's voice, you slowly blinked your eyes open. Although Alfie's head of hair was all you saw, you realized he wasn't talking to you and he couldn't see you were awake.

Eavesdropping wasn't very polite, but you couldn't help yourself. You didn't want to stop him, but hearing him to the baby in you was quite heartwarming so you decided to let Alfie have a bonding moment of his own.

"Truth is you got me downright scared," he continued. "Even after months, I still am downright terrified and you ain't even 'ere yet... I know it's a lot to ask, yeah, especially since you're still in there, blissfully unaware of the horrors of the world. But I give you my word I'll try my best to be the best for you and your mum. I hope you can understand that even when you decide to hate me whenever I give you an earful. Though I doubt I can do it. Think your mum will have to sort you out," he mumbled with a playful smirk. "I'll try my best for you, yeah? I just hope it's enough."

Alife's smirk faded as she gazed at your belly. He felt pathetic, venting to an unborn child as if that would solve all his problems. Alfie hated admitted, and he would never admit it to anyone but you, but he was terrified of becoming a father.

You didn't blame him; you had your own fears as well, so you could understand why this precious and fragile life had him so frightened.

He still hadn't noticed you were awake or that you had heard his confession. Until you lifted a hand to stroke the hair on the back of his head.

" 'eard all that, did ya?"

He didn't exactly blush, but he did feel warmth racing around his face with embarrassment.

"You're going to be a great father, Alfie" you answered. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But as long as we're together and we have each other, we can get through anything."

"Yeah, I know, love," Alfie nodded and sighed. He hated talking about his emotions, even if it was to the only person he could trust blindly. "I just don't want to be a disappointment like my father, if you could even call 'im that much."

"You won't be, and I'll tell you why. You're nothing like him," you smiled, carding your fingers through his brown locks. "You're a good man, Alf. I know you do what you have to do out there, but what matters to me is the man you are in here. And in here, you're a good man. And I wouldn't want to be carrying anyone's child. I'm honored to be the mother of our babe."

"You really mean that?" he smiled trying to look over his shoulder at you, as far as his neck - and age - allowed.

"Every word. You're worried enough to ask your sisters and the midwives for help, Alf. Not many men care to even worry about that sorta thing."

"I'm not like most men," he smirked feeling a sense of pride. "How'd you know about that though?"

"Becca told me you been meeting her for tea every week for advice."

"I fucking knew it. I knew she'd blabber off to you," he chuckled shyly.

"It's nothing to ashamed of, love. I actually find your level of concern and willingness to help in whichever way extremely attractive," you smirked stroking the sensitive skin on his neck with your finger.

"Do you now?" He grinned mischievously knowing exactly where this was headed. One of the perks that came with your pregnancy, in the later stages of it, was the sharp peak of sexual desires.

There were no more worries about you getting pregnant - too late for that now - and seeing your belly swollen, with his child that he put inside you, only made him wish he could put more and more.

"I think I like where this is headed."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fic #tom hardy #peaky blinders

[queenquinzel715]

1. Alfie Solomons 18+

Word count 3,175

1. Alfie Solomons 18+

(Y/n) p.o.v

I've had enough of Small Heath, Birmingham, so I told Poll I'm going to London to visit Ada. Granted I was staying with my younger sister, but I spent most of my time with old friends that moved out of Birmingham. They told me about this club, it's supposedly the rage of London, and I'm dying to see just how big this place is.

"Hurry (y/n)! The car is here." My friend, Mildred yells for me.

"I'm coming!" I rush past Ada with a kiss on the cheek. "Be back in the morning Ada!" I yell over my shoulder.

"All because your name is Shelby doesn't mean you have to act like one!" I hear Ada as I climb into the car.

As Mildred, Joan, and I rode in the car we told stories of our lives, and we'd laugh. We finally got to the club, and I'm so thankful no one knows who I am, or my family. We walk in, check our coats, and immediately I get an idea of what kind of club this was. There were people doing drugs before you even got to the main club part, along with people having sex against the wall. I might as well have stayed in Small Heath for this. The only difference was this was high class instead of the dirty Garrison.

As the night went on I lost each friend to guys, one with snow, and the other to dancing. I stayed at our table, relaxing against my seat, just enjoying the music, and my drink. That was until some high-end guy sat in the seat next to me, and moved it closer. I slightly move to the side to take a sip of my drink, trying my best to ignore him, but he takes my drink out of my hand.

"You shouldn't be alone." He states. "It's not safe for a woman to be here alone."

"I'm fine." I say in a monotone.

"Why don't we get a drink? I can get you the top stuff." He boosts.

"I have the top shelf. Thank you" I state trying to reach for my glass.

He grabs my arm while he stands, lifting me up with him. I try to pull my arm away, but his grip hardens.

"Dance with me." He commands.

Before I can curse at him a big fist collides with his jaw, making him fall to the ground. I turn to my savior to see a man with a beard, top hat, and a cane. He moves to stand in front of me.

"Right, you say you're sorry to the lady." His cockney accent throws me.

"I'm not…" the man stops when he looks up. "Sorry ma'am." He then runs away.

"Names Alfie Solomons, love. " He tips his hat to me.

"(Y/n)." I purposely leave my last name out.

"You need a new drink, love. What you havin'?" He points to my spilt glass.

"Gin and water." I told him. I could tell it surprised him.

"That's fucking awful. Let me get you a proper drink." He sirs as he holds two fingers to the bartender.

"So, what has a gentleman, like yourself, in a club like this?" I smirk at him.

"I could ask the same, love." He chuckles.

We are a couple drinks down. Apparently the rum in London is a lot smoother than in Birmingham. We laugh at each other's stories. I say goodbye to my friends when they leave with their own men.

"I couldn't possibly drink another one." I giggle as I move the half empty glass away.

"Let me help you." He helps me stand straight as we walk out.

Alfie walks me to a cab that's sitting waiting outside. I laugh at myself as I slip into the seat. I lay my head against Alfie's shoulder as he tells the driver to go he moves to rest on my crossed knee, and the other over his cane. I run my hand along his arm until it wraps around his bicep, and the other rests on the top of his rough hand. He flips his hand to actually hold my hand. We rode in comfortable silence until I eventually leaned my head on his shoulder.

When we pull up to his hotel he pays the driver, and helps me out. I keep hold of his hand as he guides me up the stairs. Once we get to his door his hands go to my waist to pull me close to him. I run my fingers in his beard as I smile up at him as we lean into each other. We kiss like we haven't seen each other in years, like we needed each other. He starts to kiss along my jaw.

"Al…Alfie please open the door." I softly moan into his ear.

He gives me a smirk as he takes a small step back, but doesn't let go of me as he turns to the door. I squeal from being picked up from the waist, and I hear the door slam behind me. I giggle as I'm set on my feet again. I turn to Alfie, playfully hitting his arm.

"You awful man." I laugh.

He chuckles as he throws his jacket off letting it fall over a chair while his cane falls to the floor. He grabs me by my waist to pull me to his chest. I smile up at him as I move his suspenders down his arms. He backs us to the bed making us fall onto the bed, with my knees on his hips. I gasp when he starts kissing my shoulder to my neck. I grab the back of his neck as he starts moving his hand up my leg, bringing my skirt up with his hand. I rest my hands in his hair while I open my legs for him to kneel between them. He locks his eyes with me as he pulls my underwear down. With a tight grip on my thighs he begins to kiss along the inside of my thigh then doing the same to the other side. I tried to lean on my elbows to watch him, but the closer he gets the more intense I feel. I fall on my back with soft moans. He finally is close enough, but all he does is kiss my lower lips with a quick kiss. I almost whine, but it stops in my throat when he licks up my opening.

"Alfie." I reach for his hand on my hip.

He entwined our fingers, giving me a slight squeeze before completely devouring me like a starved man. My back arches into the air as I grasp the top of his head. I've never had a man do this, this good before. My thighs already start to shake from him playing with my clit.

"Alfie, please! I…" my head falls back as I beg.

I feel his free hand run up my stomach to my chest as he sucks my clit while pulling away. He uses his hand to hold me down while I shake under him, a moaning mess. While I catch my breath he stands to look over me, and slides his pants off. I quickly slide my dress over my head as he crawls between my legs. I rub my hands over his shoulders as he gets in between my legs. My body is just melted, a puddle under him. I actually need him. I've never needed anyone this way before, and it's throwing my mind off. I can't keep any sense to me while he slowly slides into me. He doesn't stop until his hips are against mine, and he leans down, his groans vibrating my shoulder.

"Fuck, love." He starts to move.

I move my hips along with his as he moves faster. He knows every spot like I've known him for years. The faster he moves the louder the bed squeaks, the harder I grip his arm, and he tightly squeezes me to his chest. I bite my lip to hold my moans in, but he rams hard enough to reach deeper than I could ever imagine. I have to hide my mouth in his neck as I moan out.

"Alfie. Please." I beg into his neck.

His movements become sloppy, and I can feel myself tighten around him, feeling every grove of him. With a deep groan and another deep ram we release at the same time. I tried to catch my breath, but Alfie pulling me to his chest didn't help. I usually leave after I relax for a moment, however his arms are so warm I fall asleep.

I wake up at some point in the morning, and begin to slowly leave. I have to get out of here before he gets up or it's going to be awkward. I don't have many one nights, but I know the rules. I get back to Adas while she is at work, so I just go back to bed for a couple hours. I'm woken by the phone ringing.

"Ada Thorne residents." I answer.

"(Y/n), I need you back soon. Come straight to the Arrow House." Tommy orders before hanging up.

"Oh yes Tommy. No problem Tommy." I grumble to myself hanging up the phone.

He's such a pain in the ass. I tell Ada Tommy's orders, and she just rolls her eyes as she helps me pack. I give her and Karl a final hug as I board the train. I can't stand how I have to follow Tommy's rules, and orders. I swear I'm gonna smack him one day.

Coming into the station I see Tommy's driver waiting for me, and helps with my bags. Of course Thomas Shelby couldn't meet his sister at the station. The drive to Arrow was peaceful, and all I thought about was Alfie. I start feeling guilty for leaving, for some reason. Pulling into the long driveway of the house I roll my eyes at Tommy's new living.

"(Y/n) welcome back. How's Ada?" Polly asks as she helps me step out of the car.

"Ada is fine, Karl is driving her mad with his shenanigans, but overall fine." I laugh with her while we walk inside.

"Well Tommy of course was ahead of himself, because his meeting isn't until tomorrow." She walks me toward the living room. "I told him you would already be here, but of course he didn't listen." She lights her cigarette as she talks.

"It's okay I wasn't really doing anything." I shrug.

She hums in reply, but Tommy stops her from actually saying anything. He doesn't even acknowledge us here, he just pours him a drink.

"(Y/n) my business partner will be here tomorrow afternoon. I need you there to have the papers in order." He simply tells me.

"Why can't Lizzie help you?"

"Because I have you doing something else." He walks away with no response from me.

The rest of the night I talked with Polly. I went to bed dreaming of ocean water. I woke to Polly shaking me awake for breakfast. I took my time getting ready, and setting the papers in front of Tommy making sure he saw I put them there. John, Arthur, and Tommy start talking business, so I just leave.

Around two in the afternoon I was called into Tommy's office by Polly. She has hard eyes when I see her, but I should've been listening to the voice in the office. As I walk in everything goes quiet.

"(Y/n)." When I hear that deep voice again I almost fall to my needs, but instead my head snaps up to the man standing next to my brother's desk.

"Al…what?" I try to gather myself, but of of course a girl can't do that when she has brothers.

"How the fuck do you know our sister?" Arthur stands from his seat.

Alfie just looks at me in shock as I do him, maybe in deeper shock. I look at Tommy as he stares at me. He knew. He knew, and that's why he called me to come here. My head begins to spin as John and Arthur start yelling, so I just run out of the room.

"(Y/n)!" I hear multiple voices call behind me.

I run to the side of the house, squatting down, and just take deep breaths. I slept with their business partner, and I might actually feel something for him. I already know it's not going to end well for me or Alfie. I stay leaning against the house until I hear my name being called.

"Love where are you?" I hear Alfie's voice call with the others.

I take a deep breath before walking out. Polly, John, and Alfie are watching me walk toward them. Alfie looks my body over with sad eyes before turning to his car. Polly puts her arms around me as Alfie drives away. I know we weren't together, but it still hurt he left.

"It'll turn out right (y/n)." John rubs my arm.

We walk back into the office we're a fuming Arthur is sitting with a calm looking Tommy. Polly sits me in a chair in front of the desk, and sits next to me as John stands behind my chair. The look Tommy is giving me is like he's looking at every depth of my soul. He clears his throat before light a cigarette, and turning his eyes to Arthur.

"His name is Alfie Solomons, and he runs the Jews in Camden Town. We started working with him when we went against Sabini, but Alfie decided he wanted the Italians." Tommy clears his throat. "You know everything after that, but he hasn't done anything lately." He looks at Arthur when he scoffs. "I need to know if you knew him."

"No, I swear we met at the club in London." I tell the truth.

"Do you care for him?" Tommy asks.

"I… well.."

"Who cares?! You go near him again, I'll cut him." Arthur storms out.

"Answer me." Tommy pushes.

"Thomas enough." Polly steps in, but Tommy just stares me down.

"I don't know." I shrug.

"You don't know, but yet you slept with him." He scoffs.

"Oh please like you are the Virgin Mary." I roll my eyes. "I did know he was a gang leader or something like that. He stood up for me and bought me a drink. He was different." I say the last to myself but of course Polly heard, and snapped her head to me.

"Alright that's enough. She hasn't done anything wrong,Thomas. What she chooses is her choice." Polly tells Tommy, and gives him the eyes that meant that the conversation is over.

She walks us up to my room, and shuts the door when I sit on my bed.

"Now it's my job to tell you what he said." She smirks at my reaction, and hands me a folded paper. "If you want to call him he will answer, and business is business not this." With that she left.

Over the next couple days I keep thinking of Alfie, so when the guys are gone I use the library phone to call Alfie, and when his deep force answers I freeze.

"Hello!" He calls again with frustration.

"Alfie?" I quietly answered.

"(Y/n)? Wha…are you okay?" He sounds so flustered.

"I'm okay. I just decided to call you." I hear something move in the background.

"I'm glad you called. I knew you couldn't resist me, love.'' He chuckles along with my giggles.

We talk until I hear a while blowing in the background. He grumbles under his breath.

"It's quitting time, love. I have to go."

"Oh okay." I pause for a moment. "Where do you work?"

"A bread factory in Camden Town." He tells me, but a loud bang is heard before I could respond. "Love I gotta go, I work with idiots."

"Okay bye Alfie." I giggle.

"Bye love." He hangs up.

I turn around to leave with a giddy smile on my face, but Tommy leaning against the door with his arms crossed.

"I'll deal with Arthur, just don't lie to us." He walked away before I could hug him.

I rush to my room, and throw things into a small bag. I have to get back to London. I tell my family where I was going, and the only thing Polly tells me is to be careful. The train pulls into the London station, and I see Ada waiting for me. When she sees me she gives me a smirk with her hands on her hips.

"I told you just because you are named Shelby doesn't mean you act like them." We laugh as we get to her car.

The next morning I got ready. I make sure everything is perfect before I get into the taxi. As the drive gets closer to where I'm going I begin to get nervous. What will happen? We stop close enough to the door. I knock on the big door almost getting hit with it when a scrawny man with an apron answers.

"I'm here for Mr. Solomons, the name's Shelby." I simply tell him.

He opens the door further for me, and I follow him through the bakery, up the stairs to Alfie's office. He points toward the door before going back down the stairs. I softly knock on the door before opening it slowly.

"What now, Ollie?" He doesn't look up from his papers until the click of my heels hit the floor as I walk to him. "What are you doing here, love?" I sit on the corner of his desk.

"Well I decided that I wanted to come see you, and that maybe we could talk somethings out." I nervously twist the bead on my dress.

"What is there to talk out? I assumed with your call the other day you were mine." He simply tells me as he stands.

"Well I guess so. I just…" He cages me with his arms.

"You wanted to see me." He finished for me. "I'm glad you're here." He kisses me deeply.

I stayed with Alfie for a whole week, and he almost had my brother banging down his door when he wouldn't let me leave. He ended up coming to Small Health for a few days until the smog got to him. After a couple of months of back and forth Alfie asked me to marry him. Arthur beat him up when we told everyone, but everything is overall okay. The day before my wedding Polly told me I was pregnant, and the baby was going to be famous. My sweet Sylvia was born. She was our angel. However our son Jack became a gang leader like his father. I love him to pieces, but he gives me heart failure.

#x reader #x reader smut #smut #fluff #fandom #reader x oc #reader #romance #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons x you #alfie x reader #peaky blinders alfie #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders x reader #long reads #peaky blinders fic

[simpforbuckyb]

In the blink of the eye

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x f!reader

What happens when Alfie finds a strange woman in his bed and disappear at the blink of his eyes…

Gif not mine

April 2024, London, England

You were tired so you decided to turn off the tv and head to sleep.

You were watching peaky blinders and developed an obsession with the famous gangster Alfie Solomons.

You spent too many hours watching all the episodes that he was in until your eyes stung from keeping them open most of the time spent watching.

Which led you to get some sleep while cuddling your pillow and pretending it was Alfie’s body you were holding.

——————————

April 1922,Camden Town, London, England

It was dawn and Alfie’s throat felt so dry that it woke him from his not so usual peaceful sleep.

He stirred while struggling to open his eyes, moving his head to the side away from the moonlight so some darkness would help him open his eyes fully.

Sighing heavily, he was about to open his eyes until he caught a whiff of strong vanilla and coconut.

Alfie tensed. Like really stiff that he stopped breathing for a second so he can feel his surrounding.

His arm was slightly aching as he realized there was something weighing on it. There was also a small puffs of air against his neck. Maybe it was Cyril? But Alfie remember locking his bedroom door before sleeping.

Alfie opened his eyes slowly until he realized that there was a woman between his arms. The smell he caught earlier was from her hair that was under his chin. The weight that tingled his arm was her head and the air against his neck was her breathing.

“fucking hell” Alfie mumbled while looking at the woman sleeping and wondered if he was drunk and brought the woman here.

“But i’ve neve’ seen that face before, right?”

He kept mumbling to himself as he rose to lean on his elbow so he can have a better look at the woman. A small sigh left her as she stirred to get comfortable until her breathing heaved again.

She was beautiful. Most likely a beauty he’s never seen before. Her hair was around the space and her lashes were kissing her cheeks. Her lips were slightly chapped but he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Who the hell is this woman? He kept wondering.

He rose until he stood beside his bed and noticed the weird clothes she was wearing. An awfully long sleeved shirt that has so many frog faces on it. He lifted the blanket and was stunned from the view of the naked skin of her legs that he threw the blanket back down covering her.

Alfie shook his head and looked at her one last time before unlocking his door and heading to the kitchen. He stood for a solid five minutes looking out of the kitchen window until a heavy sigh left his chest and drank some water.

Slowly, he went up the stairs and opened his bedroom door slowly as his eyes searched for her sleeping form only to find his bed empty with the blanket at the same position he’s left before.

“What the fuck?” Was all what Alfie said as he looked at his bedroom like nothing has ever happened.

—————————-

You woke up to the annoying sound of the alarm and bright sun rays from your window. You got up heading to the bathroom to wash your face then went to the kitchen to have something to eat. You pass the tv and thought of Alfie and giggled at yourself.

“Crushing on a fictional character like a teenage jeez” you mumble into the air as you got ready for work. You work at a library. You just moved in and it was the closest building to your apartment so you decided to ask for a job and got accepted. It was quiet and peaceful working there. Not too many people head there and you spent most of your shift reading some books that caught your eyes.

As the day passed, you changed to your favorite nightgown and rested your head on your pillow staring at the ceiling. You grabbed your pillow ,hugging it, wishing that you would actually cuddle someone and not just a pillow.

“God, I’m so sick of being lonely” you sigh heavily as sleep finally consumed you. Ironically enough, your dreams are about one man who is called Alfie.

——————————-

Alfie was sure as fuck that he wasn’t drunk nor brought someone to his bed. Then why the fuck was that woman in his bed again and how did she even got in here? It’s been two minutes since he left his bed and went to the bathroom only to come back and find her sleeping.

He held the door frame as he looked at her. She was wearing something different tonight. A black satin nightgown that showed the skin of her arms. She is stunning but who is she? Earlier this day, he spent hours searching for that face only to find none but then he finds you here, in his bed and under his blanket.

He approaches your sleeping form slowly as his eyes never left your face.

“Oi!” He said loud enough to stir you from your sleep.

“Ey wake the fuck up…how the hell did you get in here?” He didn’t realize how he stepped closer until he was looking directly into your half lidded eyes. What a beautiful eyes, he thought

“Speak up, who are you, woman?” He asks when he noticed your wide eyes looking up at him with your lips agape.

“Alfie” he hears his name whispered softly from her lips as she rises to a sitting position and look at him. The blanket fell from her chest, showing him her upper body that was covered by that soft looking satin.

His gaze moves to hers and he was stunned to find her hand hovering his cheek. Her fingers were inches from his skin and he fought the urge to close the distance just to feel her.

“How the hell did I get in here?” She says before her hand touched his cheek and as soon as he felt her skin on his, he blinks and find nothing.

——————————

Sooooo yeaah this happened . I know. Funny enough that’s the first time for me to write something and this shit is hard asf. That was a dream that i had one time and couldn’t get it out of my head. I searched a lot for a similar plot but found none so i just decided to write it down lol. Idk what to say and I don’t even know if someone is gonna see this but yeah that’s it. Have a great day and stay hydrated.

#alfie solomons #tom hardy #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #Alfie solomons x female reader

[mlmxreader]

Always Were My Favourite | Alfie Solomons x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Alfie Solomons (enby, gn, or male reader)

“Pumpkin, you're dating an asshole.” ❞

: ̗̀➛ There's a slight problem when Alfie happens to be in love with his best friend, right as they're going through a terrible breakup.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, mentions & references to cheating, threats of violence

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

You huffed as you sat down opposite your best friend, scowling and lighting a cigarette that sat at the corner of your mouth. Of course you were well aware of how much he detested and despised and loathed the man you had chosen; you couldn't blame him.

The Italian-American mafia had always been a pain in his backside, and he was disappointed; there were plenty of good, decent men in Camden.

Why the fuck did you decide to run off with some Italian who would use you against him?

But Alfie did also understand it; your man spoiled you rotten. He bought you all the finest clothes from the best Italian tailors, he bought you all the best shoes from the best Italian makers.

He loved you with his money.

Alfie could see the appeal, to be looked after and never want for anything; but Alfie also knew you very well, and he knew that you weren't happy. Not truly. You put on a tough front, you always did, but Alfie could see right through it.

You wanted something more than just flashy, pretty, expensive gifts; even now, Alfie could see that you were wearing your old boots. Scuffed up and scruffy from years of hard work.

He almost wanted to smile, until he saw your eyes; the whites were red, and he could easily tell that you had tried to cover up where you had been crying.

A hitch in your throat when you took a drag from your cigarette.

A shake of your fingers when you withdrew it from your lips.

An audible gulp and a harsh swallow.

Alfie tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brows and closely watching you for a moment before he cleared his throat, coming to sit at the edge of his desk. His thick fingers drummed against the dark reddish brown wood.

"Pumpkin," he tutted. "Pumpkin, you're dating an asshole. I don't know how many fuckin' more times I can tell you... what'd that cunt do this time?"

You shrugged as you sniffled, shaking your head. "Note- nothing. Nothing, Alf. He did... he did nothing..."

"Bit more than nothin'," Alfie growled. "Talk to me."

"Don't be mad," you breathed out, shaky and unstable.

His gaze narrowed as he clenched his jaw, squinting. "Why the fuck would I be?"

You took in a sharp breath, trying to gather yourself for a moment. "I caught him with someone else... and he just... he sat there... didn't even... didn't- didn't look at me."

Alfie's gaze turned to stare out for a thousand yards, his grip on the desk making his knuckles turn white, his shoulders suddenly tensing up. A ragged breath left him, and the veins in his hands became more prominent.

Alfie promised he would never let anyone harm you, that he would never let anyone upset you; now you were sitting just a few steps away, shaking and crying and telling him so openly that you had caught your man in bed with someone else.

He was going to kill him.

But then his gaze snapped back to you, and Alfie sighed as he took the cigarette from you, chucking it aside; he was as gentle as he could be when he brought you to stand, slowly and carefully guiding you to stand between his legs when he sat down in his chair.

He tugged at your sleeves, and when you sat on his lap, he was quick to pull you in closer. Your head rested against the side of his neck, and he put one hand at the small of your back to keep you steady. You broke completely, crying and crying against him as he softly hushed you and told you that it was alright - he would deal with it.

Alfie always did.

Maybe it was because he had a weak spot for you; he had done for so long and he had never been able to find the time to tell you. Maybe he loved you a lot more than he was letting on, and maybe that was just something of his that could never be washed away. You were his favourite person, you always would be.

"Thank you," you whispered softly, pulling away and gently resting a hand on his cheek, his beard bristling and tickling your skin. "Really, Alfie, I, I, just-"

Alfie wasn't even expecting it when you leaned in, kissing him softly; he knew it was wrong, but he kissed you back eagerly.

"We shouldn't," he breathed out, shaking his head.

You shook your head. "I'm do sorry, pumpkin, I-"

"I should have known," you sniffled. "He was... Alfie, he was never any good for me, but... but you?"

"No," he begged softly.

"You've always been there for me," you wept softly. "You've always been my favourite..."

Alfie frowned as he felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes. "You don't wanna do this, now. Trust me, it's a fuckin' mistake and you ain't ready and-"

"But I want to," you told him. "Alfie..."

For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, sighing heavily as he licked his lips. "I'm gonna kill that fuckin' cunt. For everythin' he did to you, I'm gonna kill him."

But he knew that it was more than that, he really did. He hated it but he knew he couldn't change it even if he wanted to; you were his biggest weakness and he would do anything to keep you safe and away from harm at all cost.

Of course Alfie wondered if maybe the whole thing was just some horrible scheme to get under his skin so the mafia could fuck him over, but... even if it was, he knew that he had to do everything to protect you, and to make sure that no one ever hurt you again.

"Come on," Alfie murmured, gently patting your back as he dared to crack a broken smile. "Why don't we fuck off down the little alley where that little coffee shop you like is? We'll pick somethin' up, go back to mine, and then you can rest, yeah?"

You nodded slowly. "Alfie?"

"Mm?"

You gently kissed his cheek, as much as it pained him. "I love you."

#mlem writes #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x y/n #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders #tom hardy x reader #tom hardy x you #tom hardy x y/n #tom hardy imagines #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fic #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy

[dreamlandcreations]

Angel in the Snow

Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

Written for @raincoffeeandfandoms' 🎄Christmas Event 🎄 Christmas prompt: 8. Snowball fight

Warnings:  it's Alfie so cursing (but only a little), fluffity fluff?, mutual pining!, tension!!!, implied reader description by relation, almost kiss, a moment of utter embarrassment, allusion to… well doing something about that tension 🤭

~ 1,3K words

Alfie was busy grumbling about the cold and cursing Tommy Shelby when a snowball hit him on the back of his head, making his hat topple down into the snow. He froze in place, hearing a gasp and a muffled giggle before his attention shifted to you completely.

“Alfie!” You squealed excitedly, practically throwing yourself in his arms, then giggling as he squeezed your body closer to his, lifting you up a little to turn in circles until you were dizzy.

“Oh, my favourite heathen.” His cheeky smile did not save him from the swat on his chest.

Before you could reply though, another round of snowballs hit you both, forcing you to take cover behind a nearby tree.

“I’m afraid you entered a war zone, Captain.” His everpresent frown eases at that but there’s a new kind of glint in his eyes. You shiver and it has nothing to do with the cold. 

It takes a few moments to find the strength to look away from those hauntingly beautiful eyes of his but he won’t have it, he draws your attention back like he cannot be without it.

“What did you do to deserve to be left on your own with so many little devils, huh?” He is positively amused at your situation and he even laughs out loud at your pout but he doesn’t press on the subject when you just shrug and look away again with the excuse of getting his hat for him.

To your surprise, he indulges in the play a little, then he gathers about half the kids and launches an attack on you while you scream. First, it’s “Traitors,” then it’s threats of no dessert and in the end, you shout out your surrender from where you have fallen into a big pile of snow.

When Alfie gets closer he reaches out to help you up but the smug look on his face begs for some punishment, so you take his hand and pull him down, not taking into consideration that he would fall right onto you.

Your nieces and nephews laugh around you before getting busy with their snowball fight again. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he says quietly, without the usual edge, while he takes in the sight of you. Splayed out under him, surrounded by all that white as you can’t help but laugh. 

When you notice his soft expression, you can’t help but ask, “What?”

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear as he gently smiles down at you, murmuring the words, “I have fallen for an angel.”

Your gaze flickers between his and his lips, prompting his smile to widen even as you still can’t find it in you to gather some words as a proper answer to that.

Alfie cradles your head and slowly leans in, giving you time to stop him if you wish. Your lips almost touch when a snowball hits both of you, landing by your necks, making him lean back to get it out of the collar of his coat as you try to do the same.

When he turns back to you the moment is gone. Realising where you are and that you are surrounded by children you decide it is not the best place to do whatever you were about to do. Besides, it was freezing.

So, while he is still distracted you sneak your arms and legs in position and roll the two of you so he would be lying on the cold ground instead. And that’s not enough. Before you quickly stand up and make some distance so he couldn’t catch you, gathering some snow in the hand you are not balancing on, you throw it right at him.

“Oh, you little witch. Come here!” He shouts while you laugh and hide behind a tree.

“I don’t think so, you wicked thug.” 

Smirking at that, Alfie aims a snowball in your direction and you are about to gloat that he missed when a shriek escapes you as all the snow is dumped on you from a branch he hit just a moment before. It’s his turn to laugh, and the sound warms you enough from within to get a hold of yourself and start attacking him in revenge. Another few minutes of play goes by until you hear Polly call everyone in. Dinner is ready to be served.

You grab Alfie’s hand and pull him with you. “Come, you must be starving.”

“I don’t think…” It was clearly a big family gathering and despite your warm smile and eager invitation, he would surely feel like he’s intruding.

“I insist.”

He didn’t had the heart to tell you he probably couldn’t eat anything from the fancy dinner anyway, so as helpless as he was to resist you, he agreed, telling you he has something he must give to your brother but he’ll find you afterwards.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You made him call in his driver too, who decided to visit the kitchen and seemingly spent most of his time there during their stay.

Tommy was happy to get the jewellery he ordered at the last minute and not at all surprised by your demand of having Alfie stay for dinner, although he warned the both of you that he did not want any trouble tonight. 

Tommy is sat at the head of the table, and Alfie is guided to the last remaining seat, opposite to him, and between you and Aunt Polly herself. 

The food is served, and after an awkward prayer later from Arthur everyone starts to dig in. 

Alfie looks around the plates and as an extremely deep frown is grazing his forehead, he turns to you with a question written over his face. Before you could say anything Arthur is reaching around for some of the kosher dishes that you had prepared for your guest, who you would just hoped to make stay when Tommy mentioned he was coming. You swat at your brother’s hand and exchange a plate with another, putting the one meant for Alfie out of his reach and giving him the other.

With half the table looking at you, a series of glances were exchanged. You couldn’t look at Alfie as you felt your cheeks burn under his gaze but your eyes met with Polly’s, who was giving you a knowing smirk from the other side of the table.Then she turned to Tommy with a look that said ‘I told you so’ and your brother could do nothing clench his jaw and shoot a warning look at his friend when the man in question could finally tear his gaze from you. 

While that starring contest was going on you looked up, noticing it at last but couldn’t help to turn away as John was trying to muffle his laughter behind his hand and a lame imitation of coughing. That is until you kicked him under the desk.

Tommy took mercy on you and decided to shift the attention by giving a little toast, ending your few seconds of misery that actually felt like hours.

The rest of the dinner went by smoothly but it was pretty late by the end and this time it was Tommy who insisted Alfie should stay. Polly was quick to cut in before anyone could object, offering to show the driver to a guest room, saying you’ll escort Alfie to his. Eyes wide, you watch as she marches out of the room before you get yourself together and do as she said.

Polly is quick to return, ad even Ada and Esme are back from getting the children to bed, but Tommy waits for you for long minutes, in vain, as the grown-ups enjoy their late-night drinks. It takes John to stop him and Arthur from barging into your room, as he asks if they really want to walk in on you right now. John and Polly snicker through the rest of the night, making bets about how the morning will go for you and ‘lover boy’.

#🎁 #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #🧸 #✨ #raincoffeeandfandoms' christmas event #my stuff #my fics

[lavendertales]

sugar & spice—Alfie Solomons x f!reader

summary: being married to the infamous Alfie Solomons has its ups and downs. and so do your visits to his office.

word count: 1.3k

WARNINGS: swearing. a little spicy but nothing too explicit.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: took prompt #10 (“Now, I ain’t gonna tell you twice, sweetheart—get out of my bloody office.”) from the film noir celebration list of @solomons-finest-rum ❤️

gif: @userfezcos 

He was menacing, powerful and not to be messed with. That much you knew from whispers heard around the block. Yet when the day came that you got to meet the infamous Alfie Solomons, you were… surprised. To put it mildly.

There was something about him that seemed to be calling out to you. He liked an intellectual opponent to tussle with, and you were every bit of that. You exchanged fake pleasantries, followed by plenty of innuendos that were not left without cheeky grins and lustful looks. It was more than evident after the first hour that the interest was mutual, and that you both wanted the same thing.

After a while, it went beyond carnal pleasure, sweat dripping down your bodies and names being shouted in the throes of passion. It turned into love, the purest affection, and just like that, Alfie Solomons knew he had found the one for him.

Now everyone knew Mr. and Mrs. Solomons. Everyone knew not to mess around with you, to not even throw you a single conspicuous glance down your way. You were meant for his eyes only, the most precious jewel ever to be worn by a singular man.

And the truth was, you’ve never felt more alive and cared for than whenever you were around Alfie.

You allowed yourself certain liberties though; as his wife, it was your duty to support him and his business and you did exactly that. However, whenever you showed up at the office, you made sure to look your best.

Like any respectable woman, you enjoyed some looks every now and then. You felt flattered, nothing more. All your devotion, attention and arousal were for Alfie, no one else, ever. And your appearance was meant strictly for Alfie as well.

He’s heard you by the click, click, click of your heels on the marble floor. He grins to himself, eyes still immersed into the papers before him. He lets you do your devilish walk to his office before choosing to do any move. It’s all part of the little cat and mouse game you always got going on. You both love it, both thrive off of it, so why not let it run its course?

“Come in,” his coarse voice announces as he hears the knock on the door.

Then, as his eyes rise from underneath his reading glasses, he nearly chokes on nothing but air.

You chose bolder clothing for today. Usually you carry some form of respect for the name you now have and for his business, but today it seems you went for carelessness. Your dress is as tight as it could be, embracing your front, your curves, and it shows a little more leg than usual. Now for him, this is the most mouth-watering sight he could possibly wish for, but the idea of you walking around like sex on a stick is troublesome, and it rises his blood pressure more than he would’ve thought, awakening some primal instinct within.

“What brings you here today, love? Dressed like that, no less.”

You take a look at your own outfit, playing innocent for a while longer.

“I thought you are more open-minded than other men, my dear,” you lovingly scold him.

“What’s that have to do with anything?”

You throw him a side glance, accompanied by a coy smirk.

“You are not one of those men who dictate their wives what to wear or what to do, are you?”

“The bloody hell I am! But there’s no one that could ever tell you what to do, love.”

You grin, oddly proud of yourself. “True.”

You pace around the office, staring at its walls—but subconsciously, letting Alfie take a good look at you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure then, love?”

“Better ask, ‘to whom I owe the pleasure’, to which I’d answer ‘to me, of course’.”

Alfie raises one eyebrow, scanning you carefully.

“This what you wanna do then?” he questions. “Parade yourself around to get me riled up?”

You shrug. “Measure your words, darling.”

You see him take a deep breath, finally rising from his chair. In an ideal world, if it wasn’t yet another busy day, he’d be already lifting your dress and bending you over the desk. But you admire his strength nonetheless.

“Do I need to walk around this much to get you riled up?”

“Woman, you only need to look at me and I’d be good to go.”

You chuckle, your ego receiving a boost like none other.

“So why are you here?” Alfie inquires.

“Can’t I visit my husband at work?”

You waltz near him, biting your lower lip and playing with the collar of his shirt.

“You’re a minx,” Alfie coos. “I don’t trust you with these visits of yours.”

“Would you rather I tell you straightforward what I’d like?”

“Ideally, yea.”

There’s a coy smile sprayed across your face, a trademark wicked one that Alfie fell for each and every time. It was a surefire way to let him know that you were up to no good, but fucking hell, it was one of his favorite things in the whole wide world.

“I’d appreciate it if you’d lock that door, bend me over that desk and let me know just how much you despise me walking into your office dressed like this.”

Alfie chuckles, the same devilish intention residing behind the sound.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he keeps on laughing. “I knew you had it in ya.”

“I don’t have anything in me yet.”

Alfie keeps grinning, much like a madman, but eventually decides that two can play at that game. He stares you down for as long as he can, looking you up and down.

“Best be on your way home cause when I get there, I’d wanna see that pretty arse of yours bent over for me.”

You pretend to pout. “Are you throwing your wife out? Really?”

“Now, I ain’t gonna tell you twice, sweetheart—get out of my bloody office.”

“Or what?”

He feels his blood pressure rise more so than before, his pants impossibly tighter by now, but he prevails.

“Or I might take you up on that offer of yours.”

“That is the least threatening thing you could tell me.”

Alfie grins, reaching around to pull you in by your waist and the next second, he hungrily kisses you.

The kiss is wet, needy and hot and it sets you both ablaze with the speed of lightning. Neither of you wants to let go, especially not when you feel Alfie hard against your crotch, struggling to catch his breath and trying to grind against you.

“Where’s your smart mouth now?” you cheekily ask.

“Hoping to be on more of you, actually.”

“Then do me a favor—lock that fucking door already.”

Alfie pulls away so abruptly you have difficulty believing that anything even happened before. You feel a little insulted, really, but not too much. You know you’ll be well rewarded – although right now the scale seems to be tipped towards punishment—later.

“You come into my office, my bloody office, right? Wearing something like that—and you want me to do you on your terms, sweetheart? I fucking think not.”

He grabs hold of your ass, squeezing it as hard as he can, and you gasp, the heat between your legs growing impossible to ignore.

“Go home, and best be ready for me cause you’ll be too fucked out to say anything but my name, love.”

Left speechless, you don’t fight him on it. You lick your lips in anticipation of what’s to come, swaying your hips to the exit and throwing him one last siren-like gaze that you make sure would last him for the next several hours.

tags:

@phoenixhalliwell @potter-solomons @solomons-finest-rum @acourtofsnakes @alexxavicry @wildmoonflower @minxsblog @hotchlover @kaitieskidmore1 @hp-hogwartsexpress​ @doin-stuff​ 

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons smut #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders smut

[wandawiccan60]

I’m Sorry

An Alfie Solomons X Freya(FemOC)One-Shot

A/N: Hello everyone I know I have ghosted for a while just school and other things have happened lately good and bad really. But enough said but here is a lovely lovely One-Shot that I had the honor with working with my bestie and lovely @i-love-th-characters1. We thought of this story out of nowhere and we decided to make Alfie be such a brute because we thought that Alfie never really apologizes so we decided to make this tale of him and we are very proud to share this short and yet long one shot of the lovely King of Camden Town and his beautiful Scandinavian. Gypsy Freya(our very own OC). Romance, Friendship, etc is presented before your eyes and I hope you all enjoy this as much as me and I-love had such a fun and brainstorming time to bring this to life. Without further ado please as always enjoy, Reblog, Comment, and thank you all for being around I appreciate it every single one of you.

Summary: ”I'm Sorry." 

Two words that she never thought she would hear from the man in front of her. If she's honest, she did look at him like he had 3 heads. Silence took over as they both stared at each other, wondering who would break it as his apology lingered between them.

WARNING 18+: Fem is a Virgin, Lit SMUT, Cussing, Mentions of Alcohol, & Lots Fluff

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The old grandfather clock chimed throughout the small hallway indicating that it was past 10 o'clock at night. Freya was peacefully sitting on the red velvet couch facing the small chimney fireplace. While in her hands she continued to read a book that she got from one of the bookshelves. Cyril was lying next to her feet on the floor while the smooth breeze of the ocean outside the window came inside the lit-up living room. Freya let out a low sigh placing the closed book on top of her lap feeling uneasy about Alfie not arriving home yet. 

“Where could he be, it’s getting late?” she said out loud resting her back against the head of the couch hearing the crackling sound of the fireplace continuing to burn. 

Feeling like time was going slow for Freya, Sophia, their young maid, appeared inside the living room making Cyril lift his head up from his nap. 

“Would you like me to get you anything else for tonight Mrs. Solomons?” the young girl asked while picking up the silver tray from the small brown table in front of Freya.

“No, I’m quite alright now, Sophia thank you. It's best you head home. I'm still waiting for Alfie to arrive from his workplace. Don’t you worry about me, I can take care of the rest of the house. You have done a lot today which I appreciate very much and so does Alfie but enough said. Oh, and yes, your payment for this week's salary I’ll get that right away for you my dear. I’ll be right back,” Freya said, walking her way out of the living room to head to Alfie’s office, while Sophia put away the tea tray in the kitchen area.

A few minutes later Freya returned with the young woman’s payment in her hands, she saw Sophia giving cuddles and scratches to the big Bullmastiff. She smiled at the site while the big dog lay on his back enjoying the amount of attention he was getting from the young housemaid. 

“Silly Cyril you, now come on then off to bed with you. Go on shoo, shoo,” Freya clapped commanding the big brown mutt to go away but was not listening. 

“Hehe, seems he doesn't want to go to bed just yet, but I must go now Cyril I’ll see you tomorrow you sweet dog,” Sophia cooed raising herself on her feet smoothing out her white shirt dress.

“Here you go love,” Freya said handing over the young woman’s money as she continued speaking, “We’ll see you at the same hour in the morning as always, you walk safely back home now. Goodnight Sophia.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Solomons, and I’ll be here at 7 in the morning sharp like I always do. And it is a pleasure to serve you and Mr. Solomon-.”

The front door suddenly burst open making both women jump back in fright, noticing Alfie angrily mumbling some words under his breath. Both Sophia and Freya couldn't quite catch what he was saying, as he shut the door with force. 

“Fuckin’ hell can tonight be something more difficult than the other nights,” Alfie loudly said walking his way towards his office room not noticing the girl's presence who have been seeing his small tantrum all this time.

“Umm, well then that means he didn’t have a good day at work I suppose. I apologize for my husband's behavior Sophia, he really isn't like this every night believe me. Anyways again goodnight dear, until the morning,” said Freya, opening the door for Sophia feeling embarrassed on the inside from Alfie’s actions.

After Sophia left the house, Freya with a small temper growing from inside, quickly walked her way toward her husband's private office. Cyril followed right behind as she opened the door with ferocity, seeing his back facing her way.

“What the fuck is the matter with you, Alfie? Have you gone out of your mind coming back home with that temperament?” Freya questioned, closing the door behind her and crossing her arms in front of her chest glaring her eyes directed at him.

“So fuckin’ what, eh? I can act whatever way I want, yea, you won’ understand the amount of shit I went through today,” he said, forwarding himself on his knuckles on top of his desk, letting out a big frustrated sigh.

Freya let out a slow sigh trying her best to steady her breathing, wanting to try and communicate with her loving husband. She felt her body relax until she talked to Alfie once again.

“Alfie, talk to me, you know you can always tell me what is wrong,” Freya said, placing a gentle hand on top of his left shoulder but he shoved her hand away from him startling her with fright.

“Why would you fuckin’ care about what happened to me at the job today, it's business that you won’t understand. And now you here telling me ‘what is wrong,’ like if talkin’ will make me feel better,” he said giving a menacing look at his wife, Freya felt chills forming through her body appalled by how Alfie was raising his voice at her.

“Are you listening to yourself, Alfie?” Freya now had her voice raised while her hands turned into tight fists as she continued on speaking, “What is the matter with you, how dare you're raising your voice at me when it isn’t my fault you had a terrible day at work. And you're standing here taking your anger out on me. Who by the way is your wife? Who wants to try and understand what the hell caused you to act like this.”

“Do me a favor, my dear yea? Why don’ you just leave me alone and shut your goddamn mouth and instead you can fuck off from my site yea! You're makin’ my damn head hurt more just by looking at your face,” he said breathing heavily in and out from his nostrils, Freya stayed silent feeling as though a sharp knife stabbed through her heart.

Not wanting to stay any longer Freya angrily walked out of Alfie’s private office, shutting the brown door with a loud bang. She leaned her back against the wooden door placing her hands over her eyes and letting out a small quiet whimper. She felt tears forming through her dark hazel eyes, inhaling a long breath of air as she walked her way through the small hallway. She grabbed a long black scarf from the coat hanger and wrapped the material around her shoulders. Freya made her way out of her house without a care in the world, as some thunder was heard in the far distance. Indicating that a storm was coming in but that didn’t stop her from walking her way to who knows where. Back inside the house, Alfie took out a bottle of whiskey from a side drawer of his desk. Before opening the cap, he stared at the bottle for a moment until he saw Freya’s face.

Realizing what he did and said to her was incredibly wrong and inside his soul, he was regretting it ever so much. Grabbing the whiskey bottle with his right hand he frustratingly threw it across the room, making a big splatter spot on the wall. Along with the pieces of glass shattered throughout the floor as he let himself fall on top of his armchair. Tilting his head back looking up at nothing else but the ceiling, exhaling a long sigh while he had his eyes closed. 

What the fuck did I just do… I’m such a fuckin’ idiot…

Alfie walked his way out of his office room, walking through the hallway towards the stairs that led up to the second floor. Cyril walked alongside him making their way up wanting to apologize to her for acting such a dick towards her knowing that his anger got the best of him. Alfie reached the bedroom door and before going inside he softly knocked on it. 

“Freya… sweetheart, I’m… forgive me for screaming at you. I… I don’t know what came over me,” Alfie said, letting out a disappointed sigh and placing his right hand on the doorknob making his way slowly inside the room.

But to his shock, she was nowhere to be found inside but only their empty bed and a small table lamp on the other side of the room. Alfie panicked feeling his heart racing out of control, as he walked his way back down the first floor. 

“Freya. Freya, where are you?” he called out looking from one room to the other, not finding any trace of her whereabouts.

Alfie started to become more agitated after failing to find her in every part of the house thinking about where she could be or run off to. Alfie caressed his fingers through his short brown locks, letting out another irritated sigh. Wondering where Freya could have gone too and somewhere he and she would know to go when they wanted to clear their heads out. That's when it suddenly hit him where exactly Freya could have gone to.

The old stone bridge… she must have gone there…

Alfie didn't wait another minute to pass by and made his way out of the house, leaving Cyril all alone in the house. Outside the dark chilly night, it started pouring small drops of rain as Alfie walked his way towards the path that leads to the old bridge. Where they met for the first time when they were in their adolescent years. He only hoped and prayed that Freya made it there safely the rain however only continued to come down heavily.

This is all my fault…my own damn fucking guilt…

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14 Years Ago: Somewhere In Camden Town

"Follow the path, Cyril. You know better." A young Alfie told his then puppy. 

The pup happily sniffed and walked along the path again, a path he and Alfie took for their afternoon walks for a few months now. It was all very familiar to both boys. Today was no different, or at least, it wasn't supposed to be. Yet, their ears picked up on something. 

"Stop." Alfie whispered to his pup who stayed in place in front of him, waiting for his owner to be closer. 

Looking around, Alfie couldn't place where the sudden singing was coming from. Not that he minded the joyous and raucous tune, but the path is known to be private, which is why he began walking Cyril here two months ago. Straining his sight again, he finally saw a figure under the old stone bridge. 

A young woman, to be exact. She was dancing while singing. Her swaying movements and the unfamiliar tune was like a siren's song to the young man and his puppy. Neither even felt themselves starting to walk in her direction. Their feet simply had minds of their own. Slowly, they approached the young woman who hadn't seen or heard them yet. She was too busy dancing her heart out, the jingling of her many necklaces clinking against each other adding a different beat to the, what Alfie could tell was a, foreign song. He was in a trance as he watched her body move. Nothing provocative, nothing grand. She just seemed so free. Cyril looked up at his owner, wondering why he hadn't said anything yet if he liked seeing the girl dance so much. So, being the curious puppy he was, he happily barked. 

The echoing noise immediately had the young woman stopping her movements and her song as she sharply inhaled, clearly startled as she looked towards the direction in which the bark came from. 

"No, no, shh." Alfie told his dog as he tried to subdue the embarrassment he began to feel since he had gotten caught staring.

Instead of being able to control his puppy, Cyril barked again, and again, and again. His tail was wagging and his ears stood up halfway as he wondered why the girl wasn't singing or dancing anymore as she kept looking at them. Alfie wasn't sure what to do as he looked up from his dog. His eyes met the young woman's, and he could tell that she was either seconds from running away or she was too scared to move and was hoping they'd leave first. He knew one thing was for certain; neither parties moved from their spots as they simply stared at each other. 

He could tell she wasn't from here. He had never seen her in the town, much less under the old bridge that he has been passing under daily for two months. He softly cleared his throat as he gave her a tiny nod, unsure of what to do as she kept looking at them. He wasn't sure if she'd do them both harm, though she didn't seem to be a bad person. Cyril, on the other hand, was still curious about this girl who seemed so free a moment ago and was now hesitant to leave the safety of the shadows of the bridge. 

So, Cyril took matters into his own paws and sniffed the trail as he wandered over to where she was standing. He was surprised when Alfie didn't bother stopping him. Looking up at the girl who slowly looked down at him, Cyril barked, wagging his tail to let her know he was friendly. He sensed that she was being cautious, and the pup didn't blame her. He and his owner were strangers to her after all. He sat in place and softly whined, giving her the best puppy eyes that he could muster. Alfie took cautious steps towards the two, stopping just under the beginning of the bridge. 

He watched her necklaces clink together as she slowly moved to kneel down in front of the puppy. Cyril immediately climbed into her lap, causing the young woman to seem taken back by the gentle action. The pup nudged one of her hands with his small nose, letting her know it was alright to pet him. Carefully, she very lightly patted his back, now curious about the tiny animal in her lap who seemed happy to see her. So she patted him again, and again, and again. Each time, she grew less afraid, less cautious, and soon, Alfie felt himself smiling as he watched her scratch Cyril on his belly which caused one of the pup's back legs to scratch the air. 

He found her smile breathtaking, even if it was directed at his dog and not him. 

"I…um, we're sorry for interrupting you." He said, noticing how her eyes were taking all of him in. 

It made him feel too warm for his own comfort, but some tiny part of him deep down enjoyed the attention from this beautiful young woman. 

She only gave him another smile, seeming confused as to what he was saying. Deciding to try and help the situation, Alfie carefully kneeled down in front of her and his pup, hoping she could tell that they're both friendly and meant her no harm. 

"Cyril." He told her, pointing at the puppy. 

She tilted her head slightly to the right, still seeming confused. 

"Cy-ril." Alfie repeated, only slower this time so she could grasp the name. 

She looked at the dog, slowly nodding. Though she didn't say anything, Alfie knew she understood. Suddenly, she was pointing at him, head tilting to the right again. 

"I'm Alfie." He said, placing one of his hands on his chest. 

Her eyebrows raised in confusion. 

"Al-fie. Al-fie." He slowly repeated, being patient with her. 

She gave him a slow nod, understanding that he was introducing himself. 

"Alfie Solomons. I live here, in Camden. Do…Do you live here?" He asked, only to receive no answer.

They both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"Freya," She softly spoke, copying him and placing one of her hands on her chest, 

"Fre-ya." She said with a smile. 

"Freya." He repeated the name, liking how it rolled off his tongue. 

She happily nodded after he had said it. He stretched out his right hand towards her, watching as she looked at it with curiosity. 

"You give me your left hand, and we shake 'em together. That's how you greet someone who you just met." He explained.

Freya still didn't understand, so he gently took her left hand in his right one. Very slowly, he shook hands with her, noticing that she seemed to be paying close attention. 

"It's nice to meet you." He said, adding a slight smile for good measure. 

He tried to let go of her hand, but she didn't want to let him go. She had never been so patiently dealt with by someone foreign to her. Alfie felt himself blushing as they just awkwardly kept holding hands, wondering why she would choose to keep holding on to him. 

"Do you live here?" He asked her again, only to earn another head tilt. 

"Um," 

His mind was racing as he thought of ways to gesture at a house or anything that resembled a home. Suddenly, an idea hit him as he spotted a small twig beside his leg. She let go of his hand as his other began picking up the twig. He did the best that he could to draw an outline of a house between them on the sand beneath their legs. 

"Home?" He asked, motioning to his simple drawing. 

All Freya did was curiously look at him before something visibly clicked within her. She pointed to the twig, and Alfie quickly gave it to her. He was so caught up in looking her over that he hadn't realized what she was doing. That is, until a voice was heard in the far distance. 

"Freya!" A man's voice shouted.

Alfie watched as she happily turned around, looking towards where the voice came from. Turning again to face her new friend, she pointed behind her. 

"Tata." She said with a smile. 

Now it was Alfie's turn to give her a look of confusion, watching as she handed a snoozing Cyril to him before she carefully rose to her feet. He quickly followed, careful to not wake his puppy. 

"Freya!" The man's voice shouted again, sounding slightly closer this time. 

"Tata." The young woman repeated to Alfie who gave her a slow nod. 

Then it clicked. 

'Must be her father.' He thought as she gave him another smile. 

"Home." She softly added as she tried her best to copy how he had pronounced the singular word, once again pointing in the same direction she had a moment ago. 

"Oh, right, yeah. I best be headin' back myself. 

"Home?" She asked with a curious expression, her words laced with happiness. 

"Yes. My home is that way." He answered with a slight smile, pointing behind him, his thumb gesturing towards the path he and Cyril took.

"Jutro." She said with a look of hope. 

Once again, he was confused. 

"Jutro?" She asked instead, hoping it would make a difference. 

"I…I don't understand." He softly explained, taking a step closer to her.

"Jutro…jutro." She slowly repeated, making a gesture with her hands as she also took a step closer towards him.

Alfie paid close attention, trying to grasp what she meant as he closely watched her hands. Her left hand stayed still as her right one moved back to the front over her left. 

"Jutro?" She asked in a whisper. 

Then it hit him. 

"Tomorrow!" He blurted out, finally understanding. 

"Jutro!" She happily hummed out, grateful that he knew what she meant. 

"I'll come back tomorrow. Me and Cyril," He pointed to himself and his pup, 

"Will meet you," He pointed at her,

"Here." He promised as he pointed between them.

They were both happy that they had reached an agreement, just in time, as her father called out a third time, the voice closer now. She reached towards Cyril, giving his head a loving pat, being careful to not wake him. With a final look to Alfie, Freya slowly waved at him, giving him such a sweet smile before she hurried out from under the old stone bridge. He watched as she soon disappeared into the fog that was covering the far distance of Camden. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Some Time Later

Freya, Alfie, and Cyril were inseparable. Wherever one was, so were the other two. The three spent much time each day under the stone bridge. It was mostly because Freya was scared to leave its safety. She had never dared go past the bridge, and Alfie never forced her. Until one month later when one particular morning Cyril had stepped on a small thorn and Alfie wasn't sure what was wrong with his pup. 

"Mate, you're limping." He said in concern as Cyril sat in place. 

Squatting down, Alfie carefully looked over his whimpering pup, trying to figure out what the source behind the discomfort was. 

"Alfie!" Freya happily called out to him from under the bridge. 

Looking towards her, he waved at her since she was waving at him. 

"I'll be just a second, alright? Something is wrong with Cyril." He called out to her as worry towards his dog's health began creeping into his head. 

Freya quietly watched as Alfie sat on the floor and Cyril didn't climb in his lap. In her eyes, it was all too strange that the puppy would rather sit on the floor than in his owner's lap because Cyril loves being in her and Alfie's laps. 

She could hear Alfie talking to Cyril, but all he would get in return were whines and whimpers of discomfort. Worry rose within her, and it was so fast in that moment that she hadn't realized her feet had minds of their own. They quickly walked her out from under the bridge and towards her friends. She sat beside Alfie, who glanced over at her then back to his dog, but then he quickly fully looked over at her. 

"Cyril." She said in worry with a small frown. 

Carefully, she picked him up, doing some inspecting of her own to see if Alfie possibly missed something when he had done the same just a second ago. 

"Freya, you're-" 

"Found it." She announced as she very gently laid the dog on her lap. 

She spotted a very small thorn wedged between the pads of his left back paw. 

"A thorn?" He asked her as she held it up for him to see. 

"Yes." She answered before flicking it away from them. 

"Better, Cyril?" She asked the pup as she set him on all fours. 

He happily wagged his tail before barking, obviously in a much better mood. 

"Freya," 

She turned to look at Alfie who wore a surprised expression on his face. 

"Yes?" She asks curiously. 

"You're out from under the bridge." He told her gently. 

She looked behind them, finding he was correct. She had left the safety of the bridge. Yet it didn't feel different now that she was out from under there. She was with Alfie and Cyril, which made everything seem normal. 

"Is good?" She hesitantly asked him. 

He gently smiled at her, enjoying that she had learned the English language so quickly with his help.

"Do you feel good about being here in the open?" He asked her. 

After giving the question some thought, she nodded, giving him a smile in return. 

"Then this means I can show ya the shops in the town." He excitedly said, and the thought of seeing all the different stores and products they have to offer caused her to smile again. 

That day, while they were in town, he asked her if she would allow him to be her boyfriend. She looked at him in slight shock as she thought of what he had just asked.

"If you don't want to be with me, I understand. It's just…I fancy you so much, Freya. You understand me like no one else does. You're beautiful and kind. Your nature is to heal and comfort. Mine is to destroy and create chaos. But none of that happens when I'm with you." 

"Yes." She answered once his words ceased. 

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Slowly, big smiles began to spread across their lips before she happily hugged him. He hugged her back, holding her tightly as she excitedly giggled into his chest. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

1914: World War I

Two months passed before their lives drastically changed. A war had begun, and by what Alfie told Freya, any and all help was needed. 

"They sent me this." He told her, holding up a folded paper. 

"What is it?" She hesitantly asked. 

He took a good long look at her. He didn't want to tell her. He couldn't. He couldn't bear to see the sadness he knew would be on her face. He didn't want to tell her that he might die far away from home. Yet he forced himself to answer her. 

"It's a letter. I've been…" 

She stepped closer to him, seeing the worry in his eyes,

"I've been drafted. They need me to go fight. I leave in two weeks." 

Silence lingered between them as they looked at each other.

"You can't leave." She whispered as a small frown took over her lips. 

"I have to. They'll punish me if I don't." He softly explained. 

"But…But what if you don't return?" She asked him.

Tears began to form in her eyes, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her. 

"I will. I will return. That much I promise you." 

Those two weeks were spent with each other. The young couple felt that they couldn't get enough time together as the day they both dreaded quickly approached. When that morning came, the two closely stayed by each other's sides as they waited for the designated train to pull into the station. 

Freya couldn't stop thinking about how to help Alfie feel less nervous. He was holding her hand as if his life depended on it. Then it dawned on her.

She moved to take off one of the many necklaces that hung around her neck. Making sure she had the one she wanted, she moved to stand in front of her boyfriend. He looked at her with curious eyes, wondering what she was doing. He had his answer when she held the necklace towards him. Understanding that she was trying to help, he slightly dipped his head down and felt her carefully slip it over his head. As it rested against his chest, he looked down at it, finding a small coin-sized plate hanging from the chain. The name of his girlfriend was engraved in a fancy font on the face of it. 

She had opened her mouth to speak, but the train was coming into the station, blaring its horn in the process. The other men, young and older and who had also received a letter that requested their help in the war, began saying goodbye to their significant others or their families. Slowly, Freya's eyes met Alfie's. 

"I promise to come back to you. No matter how far away I am, you'll be here in my heart. That's why you gave me this, right?" He asked as he pointed to the necklace. 

"Yes." She answered in a whisper. 

The train horn blared again, and even though the recruited men didn't want to, they all began lining up beside the train car to board it. Mothers and wives were crying while waving their sons and husbands off. Looking down at Freya, Alfie tightly embraced her. It was warm and loving, and neither wanted to let go. Reluctantly, he was the first to pull away after a solid minute. 

"Don't cry, my love." He whispered as he gently wiped away her tears. 

She placed her hands over his own, wanting to feel them in hers one last time until who knew how long. He leaned down, placing his mouth over hers, and she followed along by closing the space between them. The kiss was beautiful; familiar, and slow as they tried to be physically connected for as long as they could. When they couldn't breathe anymore, they pulled away, and after they caught their breaths, she sadly watched as he picked up his bags. 

"Can I ask you for a favor?" He spoke softly. 

"Anything." She answered quickly. 

"Will you please look after Cyril and collect my mail while I'm gone? I don't get much, if any, but I'll write to you every chance I get." He explained. 

She gave him a nod as it sank in for both of them that they were not dreaming and would be apart with neither knowing for how long. With an apologetic expression towards her, he began to also join the long line of recruited men. 

He was only 15 feet away from her, yet she was already missing his touch. So, she did what any love stricken girlfriend would do. 

"Alfie!" She called out. 

He was about to fill an empty spot in the line when he quickly turned around. He was met by Freya rushing towards him, and just before he could drop his bags, her arms were around his neck. The force that came with her was so great that he almost lost his balance, but the young men on his right and left sides steadied him. They gave him knowing smiles as they took his bags and held them for him. His arms were wrapping themselves around her waist once his hands were free. 

When she looked up at him, they kissed again, the action done in haste as the train horn was heard again. When they pulled away, Alfie rested his forehead against hers. 

"I love you." He told her with such seriousness that she couldn't help but smile. 

"I love you, too." She responded, and he slowly began to let go of her just like she did to him. The warmth they both felt from the embrace quickly turned cold as the two young men handed Alfie his bags again. Freya smiled sadly at him, earning the same smile from him.

A woman gently pulled her away from the line as it shortened, telling her that it was safer to wait by the waiting area than be too close to the tracks. Freya learned that the woman was a mother and had just said goodbye to her three sons. They both stood together, watching in fear and sadness as the train began to slowly take off. Alfie waved at her, just like the woman's sons did. The four had gotten seats right beside some windows. Freya waved back at him, trying her best to not cry so Alfie wouldn't remember her like that.

From that day, exactly one week passed until she heard from him. She was sitting in the living room of his home. Cyril was lying beside her as they both occupied the longest sofa. As she went through the mail to see if he had written to her, her heart raced when she saw her name on one envelope. She dropped the other few envelopes to the floor and got to opening hers right away. Her eyes were met by her boyfriend's handwriting, and they didn't hesitate to begin reading. 

'Freya, 

I am missing you. I know it has just been a couple of days, but I cannot wait to see you again. It is hard to be away from you for this war against France. I know that what I am doing is for the good of people, but nothing truly feels good without you. I am hoping to see you again soon. But, until then, know that I love you dearly and that I left my heart with you, my darling. 

I love you, 

-Alfie 

Tears ran down her cheeks as she realized that only a week had passed. How long would it be until they saw each other again? Would he make it back? Would this war turn him into someone she wouldn't recognize when…if…he returned? Looking at Cyril, who was closely watching her, Freya continued to softly cry. The dog became concerned, so he moved his head to be in her lap. As soon as she felt Cyril's weight, she hugged him, crying into his fur as he lowly whined. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Freya. Freya, can you hear me love?” Alfie called out walking through the big green forest both his shoulders and hair drenched in rain.

He has been calling out for his wife for an hour or so hoping that she didn’t go far from where they lived. Beneath his shoes the pathway was muddy in some spots trying his best to not slip. Some paces later Alfie saw a black smokey cloud in the distance. At first he thought it would be Freya’s family that were set at camp but as he made his way towards the cloud. It turned out to be the old stone bridge where he and Freya would mostly spend time together and where they first met all those years ago. It’s like he could remember it like it was yesterday.

How time flies so fast…

Seeing the smoke coming from underneath he carefully made his way down a steep path. Once making it down Alfie embraced the site of the old bridge placing a hand against its few stones. Remembering the old days of both him and Freya’s life when they would meet each other secretly. Until Freya’s father found out about their meetups one day and it caused both of them to not see or speak to each other for weeks. But eventually Freya told her father that Alfie was nothing but a gentleman and a marvelous boy towards her. Knowing that Alfie wasn’t never the type of man to lay a hand on her for any reason. Her father at first didn’t believe in her daughter for a while but eventually when one day Alfie without feeling afraid. Went to visit her home and talked with her family hoping that they will see a different perspective and let Freya be his friend. 

“If you ever do anything that will harm my lovely daughter you stay away from us and never come back. Is that understood boy?” Said Harald Freya’s father pointing a sharp finger at the young boy which in reply a nod in agreement. 

And after that discussion Freya was free to see and speak with Alfie which she was relieved that her father finally let her see her friend. It was as if that event just happened yesterday how he wished to relive that moment one more time.

Alfie then made his way towards the large opening of the bridge where he found Freya sitting on the wet cold ground. Hugging her legs together while she stared at the small campfire she made not too long ago. Her long dark brown hair was wet from the rain as well as her clothes. It didn’t bother her since she is after all a gypsy who has traveled to many places. And the rain was one of her favorite weathers feeling like she is at peace for the most part. Freya didn’t notice his presence until Alfie sat next to her. She scooted a bit to the side still feeling upset towards him not forgetting what he told her earlier. Alfie noticed this not wanting to push her buttons anymore knowing he has caused so much tonight. The crackling sound of the wood against the fire continued and Freya and Alfie didn't say much for a moment. While the sound of faint thunder was heard far towards the distance as the drops of water continued to gently pour down. Alfie wanted to say something at first but he didn’t feel brave to say anything yet. Freya tightens her long black scarf around her shoulders, feeling the cool wind feeling shivers running through her body. Noticing this Alfie without exchanging any words removed his long black coat from himself. He gently placed the warm material over Freya making her flinch but yet welcomed it. She looked him in the eyes giving off a small faint smile nodding her head in “thank you.” Alfie returned the gesture they both didn’t say much again. As some time has passed for too long Alfie finally surprising himself at the words he said next.

“I’m sorry,” is all that he could say looking forward to the fireplace.

When Freya heard him say those two words she looked at him with a confused look. Not believing in what he just heard him say.

“What did you say?” She then said wanting to make sure she heard him correctly.

Before he said anything he sat straight while clearing his throat. He turned to see his wife having to repeat himself again. Inhaling a small breath he heard himself again saying those two words he mostly never says until now.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you back at home my love. My frustration and stubbornness got the best of me and I never meant to say those things to you either. Work has been a pain in the ass these past couple of days and today was the worst of them all,” he says, lowering his eyes looking at his hands biting his lips together as he went on, “once those words came out of me mouth I knew I'd made a terrible mistake. Looking at your eyes I saw how hurt you felt and I wanted to just kill myself then and there for what I have said to the love of my life. I just…just.”

Freya could see the tears forming against his blue eyes knowing that he meant every word that he was saying to her. Seeing and hearing the guilt in his eyes and voice wishing he could take back what he didn’t mean to say. She also felt her eyes filling with tears as one teardrop stream down the corner of her right eye gently wiping it away with the back of her right hand. No words were exchanged Freya tightly hugged Alfie around his neck almost making him tilt to the side. But they both steadied themselves; she then felt his arms wrapping around her embracing in each other's arms. 

“I know you didn’t mean those words my love, but that doesn’t make me stop loving you no matter what. I love you so much my Alfie, like you don’t imagine,” she said leaning back to look him in the eyes, placing her right hand against his left cheek as their foreheads touch each other.

“I promise you at this very moment that I’ll not let my emotions get to me very easily. Because I never want to see my flower look sad and hurt ever again. And I love you too my Freya like you don’t know either,” he said back, placing a small light kiss on top of her forehead.

“I hope you know I’m not one of your workers who will tolerate your screaming and shouting, Alfie. I'm your wife." Freya reminds her husband placing both her hands on each side of his cheeks.

Alfie nods immediately. "I know, sweetheart.”

"Don't you ever do this to me again, yes?” Freya says, sounding not too angry anymore with a more relaxed smile.

He gives her a small smile while nodding again. "I wouldn't dream of it." He says as he gets closer to her. 

She can't stay mad at him forever, so she also gets closer to him. He leans down to kiss her, and when their lips touch, it all comes flooding back to him. The very first moment they shared their love for each other. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

She could only imagine the beautiful bodies of other young women he had seen before she had ever met him. How could she compare? Surely they were much more beautiful than she. Every scar she had ever earned, from quick evacuations with her family when they encountered danger throughout their travels, were on display. They were like directions to every imperfection she had. Yet there she stood in front of the edge of his bed, bare. He stood before her, wearing only boxers. His bright blue-green eyes drank in every centimeter of her skin before they looked deep into her eyes. 

"Freya," 

The way her name gently left his mouth made her heavily blush. All she could hear in his words was love. The emotion was very clear, and it gave her some relief, but not enough to wash her nerves away entirely. 

“You’re absolutely stunning; a vision, a work of art.” He spoke, genuinely meaning every word.

He slowly closed the space between them, his eyes staying on her face the whole time as he walked a few steps towards her. She suddenly held her breath. She didn’t want to tell him that this was her first time having sex. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper. 

He could see there was some concern written on her face, and it only grew the more he looked at her. 

“Alife, I…” 

He patiently waited for her to say what she needed, 

“I’ve never had sex.” 

His face grew pink at her confession. 

“We don’t have to do anythin’, love. I would hate to make you uncomfortable.” 

“I want to.” She quickly assured him. 

Silence took over between them as they stared at each other. 

“Neither have I.” He confessed. 

“What?” She asked softly. 

“I’ve also never had sex.” He clarifies. 

“Do you still want to…with me?” She asked with hesitance. 

“It would be an honor to have you be my first, my darling.” He answered.

She smiled up at him as her body relaxed a bit more. Slowly, she reached towards him, lightly placing her hands on his bare chest. It showed scars, all of them proof of his time away from home and fighting against enemies. A small smile crossed his lips as he placed his right hand at the back of her neck. His left hand made itself at home at her lower back. Before she knew it, he gently laid her down on his bed, helping her get more comfortable before he was hovering over her. His body was flush against hers but he made sure to keep his weight off her. 

“I’ll look after you, my love.” The promise was said in a gentle voice, and it caused the rest of her nervousness to fade away. 

Slowly, he dipped his head down and his lips began to pay special attention to the crook of her neck, leaving gentle kisses along one side. A sharp inhale had him straightening up. His eyes met hers, only to receive a nod. 

“I’m alright.” She whispered as a blush appeared. 

“I will not hurt you.” He spoke once he realized that she had been enjoying herself. 

Her focus on the soft pressure of his lips against the skin of her neck was broken when an entirely new sensation caught her by surprise. His right hand had begun to slowly trail up the inside of her leg. It traveled up slowly, leaving goosebumps behind as it rested on her hip. Lifting his head once again, his eyes were glued to her. He needed to make sure she was okay with what he was doing. The look of sheer lust in his girlfriend’s eyes was enough to send a blush erupting through his cheeks. He never removed his gaze from her face as his hands met at her underbust. 

“May I?” He asks, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. 

“Please.” She answered, arching her back off of the bed. 

He wasn’t sure if it had been the way she sweetly exhaled his name or if the sight of her so eager to be felt by him caused confidence to surge through him, but he was grateful that she trusted him so much. Slowly, his hands made their way up her sides, stopping on either side of her breasts. Very gently, he cupped them at the same time, earning a satisfied hum from her. 

“You’re warm.” She spoke, causing a chuckle to leave his mouth. 

“That’s one of the reasons you’re with me, innit?” He asked, watching a smile form on her lips. 

“One of many.” She answered, closing her eyes as his large, calloused hands began to completely cover her breasts. 

It was a nice contrast of rough against smooth. She enjoyed the way his hands held her so perfectly as his lips began kissing down her chest. They moved to kiss her left breast, then her right, and each kiss felt better than the last. He loved the way her back arched into him; it told him that he was doing a good job so far, and he wanted to keep that up. His index and thumb fingers found her nipples, and he gently began rolling them between his fingers at the same time. 

“Oh!” She moaned out. 

Her hands reached out to grab his arms, but by no means was she trying to get him to stop. Instead, she pulled him closer, and her fingers threaded his hair. She could feel immense heat between her legs, knowing that as much as she wanted to take it slow, she wasn’t going to last much longer. Her eagerness aroused him so much that his erect cock was throbbing in his boxers. Yet, he didn’t want to rush anything, for her sake. The last thing he wanted was to wind up hurting her unintentionally. His lips continued their kisses along her chest, leaving light love bites here and there, before they trailed kisses up to her neck. One of his hands left one of her breasts to gently glide down her stomach and stopped just above the place she needed his touch the most. She moaned into his mouth, hoping to convey her feeling of arousal to him enough for him to be bold enough to touch her. 

“Alfie, please.” She whimpered after they pulled away.

“You’re sure?” He hesitantly asked.

“Very sure. I need you.” 

“Say less, my darling.” He hummed out. 

He never removed his gaze from her face, his eyes boring into hers as his hands continued to move down her body while his mouth kissed every inch of her skin that was available. Finally, his fingers rested at her core, and the heat radiating from it was enough to make him groan in approval. Very slowly, his fingers circled her clit, and the look of pure relief flooded her face just as her head tilted back. Her back arched off of the bed and her hands found his hair to grab hold of. 

“Alfie…” 

The way she moaned his name had him circling her clit a little faster, wanting to see if the same blissful look would cross her face again. It did, and it made him so happy to see her enjoying his touch. His hands had done unspeakable things during the war, but none of that was important in that moment. Very slowly, he slid his finger inside of her, the accumulation of her arousal having made it an easy entrance. He slowly groaned as he felt her walls take his finger deeper, tightening around it while he gently moved it around inside of her. 

“You alright, love?” He asked, earning a moan in response. 

“More.” She breathlessly answered. 

“You’re sure?” He asked, slowing his movements. 

He stood up with his finger still inside of her, but he froze in place when she gave him a look of pure need. 

“I want you to make me yours.” She answered with such a seriousness that had his heart fluttering in his chest. 

“You're…sure?” He asked again as he hovered over her. 

“Yes.” She answered. 

His free hand made its way behind her head, lifting it enough so their mouth could meet for a loving kiss. He removed his finger from her aching walls and that hand swiftly slid down his boxers. No longer was there a barrier between them, and while it made her nervous, she found herself excited to finally be one with her boyfriend. He adjusted himself between her legs, gently parting them even more. When she caught a glimpse of his erection, heat flooded her face. It looked much too big to fit inside of her. 

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, having seen the way her eyes went a bit wide. 

“No.” She quickly answered. 

“Make me yours.”

Slowly, he brushed his cock along her soaking wet lips, causing them to slightly part. Then, very gently, he began pushing himself inside of her. Their groans harmonized for a few seconds as he stayed put for a few moments, allowing her to adjust to him. Everything felt so warm and so right when their lips connected once again. 

“You feel amazing.” He heavily sighed, the sound sending pleasant shivers up her spine. 

Her walls clenched around him each time he moved, the motion carefully done before he drove himself deeper. He held her body close against his, hoping to ease any pain that she felt. They lasted several minutes in that same position before her legs were wrapping around his waist. Their eyes met, and he could tell that she wanted more. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. The speed of his thrusting increased, and it wasn’t long until both of them were moaning messes. She didn’t even have time to process the entirety of what was happening to her before she felt an all too strong sensation flood her body that caused her senses to be at a standstill. He stopped moving, wanting to make sure she was alright as her high ended a moment later. He peppered her face with gentle kisses before his lips were covering hers. 

“Freya, I…I’m close.” He warned her when he felt her walls fluttering around him. 

She tightly wrapped her arms around his neck, preparing herself for what was to happen. He was about to move away from her to pull out, but she was quick to stop him by his shoulders. 

“Fill me.” 

A look of shock covered his facial features when he realized she was being serious. 

“Please.” She begged, and the whine alone was enough for him to give in. 

Hugging her to himself once again, he thrusted into her a few more times before he was groaning into one side of her neck. She softly moaned at feeling his hot cum filling her. He stayed inside of her for another minute before very carefully pulling out. He was quick to lay beside her, wrapping her up in his arms as she curled into his body. He reached for his discarded shirt, draping it over her as they both caught their breath. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, being the first to break the comfortable silence that filled his bedroom. 

“Yes. Are you?” She softly asked in return. 

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.” 

He looked down at her and gave her a small smile. 

“Love, I should be the one thankin’ you for trustin’ me so much.” 

She smiled at his words as he kissed her head. 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Epilogue: 5 years Later

“Where are those two rascals off too again?” Freya said to herself looking around from one room to another.

It has been a while since they moved out from Camden Town where Alfie was lucky enough to inherit a house near the beach. Margate was the name and it has been treating them fairly well where there was nothing else but a wonderful view of the sea and most of all quietness. But that wasn’t the only thing that brought the couple closer together. 

The sound of a small giggle was heard somewhere beyond the hallways which Freya knew exactly who it belonged to. 

“Alright now come out, come out wherever you all are,” called our Freya quietly tiptoeing her way towards where the chuckles were coming from. 

After Alfie and Freya got married some 3 years ago they afterwards welcomed their first child. It was such a blessing for the married couple that Alfie thought it was all a dream. Ellie was the baby girl's name, brown eyes like her mothers with a mix of stubbornness just like her father. It was a day to remember when they heard their baby’s first breath. Ever since that day Alfie was determined to be by his wife’s side, not caring if the distillery could continue without him. What mattered to him the most was his wife and daughter helping Freya out whenever she needed some time away from the baby. One late night however when Ellie was crying for hours Alfie took the baby in his arms while rocking against a wooden chair. He started to sing a lullaby to her in his mothers tongue which surprisingly made the little creature feel at ease. He also didn’t notice that her tiny hand was tightly holding onto his right index finger. He then smiled as he placed a gentle kiss against Ellie’s soft hair.

“I love you my little Ellie always and forever.” 

Freya continued to quietly make her way to the small giggles that she could still hear. Knowing that she is already near them wanting to scare them in surprise. 

“Shhh… be quiet mama is going to hear us,” said little Ellie to someone else.

A couple of months later after the birth of Ellie, Alfie and Freya then welcomed their second child. It was Alfie that encouraged Freya to have another baby which she didn’t hesitate to say no to him. Nehemiah was the boy's name that was given to him. Just like his father he wasn’t afraid of anything, always liking to get into some sort of trouble taking no for an answer but always obeyed his father whenever he would go one step far. But he would also have his moments whenever he felt like he needed to talk with his mother. Trying to also find his calmer side of himself and getting as much advice from his mother. 

“Whenever you feel angry or lost, always remember that I am here for you my love. And so is your father but just know that you're never alone my little one.”

“Oh you also be quiet Ellie I’m sure by now mama will hear us,” Nehemiah said playfully, nudging onto his sisters right arm not noticing their mothers presence.

“FOUND YOU BOTH!” Surprised Freya, making the two children scream from fright. 

Both children got on their feet quickly running away from their mother which she wasn’t too far behind. She scooped Nehemiah off from the wooden floor yelping and laughing while Freya hugged him tightly around her arms. She then placed a couple of kisses on the little boy's cheeks while feeling Ellie hug her mothers legs.

“Haha mama let Nehemiah go, how did you know we were here?” The little girl questioned, still holding onto her mothers leg.

“You both were giggling and that led me to finding your hiding place. But enough of playing around you two how about we get the table ready for dinner before papa comes home. How does that sound, my darlings?” She said kneeling in front of her two beautiful children while they nodded their head in “yes.”

Some time later it was already dark outside as the cool breeze blew ever so gently while Freya and her two children waited patiently for Alfie’s return in the living room. The crackling sound of the fireplace was heard in the background while Cyril lay down beside Ellie and Nehemiah while the children played with their toys. Freya was sitting on top of one of the couches while looking at the clock, seeing that it had passed the time Alfie should be home by now. Quietly tapping her right foot against the carpet floor the trio then heard the front door open. Indicating that they had finally returned home as Nehemiah and Ellie then ran their way out of the living room to greet their father. 

“Papa papa,” said both children in unison as Alfie opened his arms wide out to them while kneeling down. 

They all huddled down to the floor making both children giggle at their action.

“How are my two lovely children doin’ eh? I miss you all very, very much,” Alfie said as he gently stood up off the floor while Cyril nuzzled his wet nose against his owner's face.

“I also miss you as well you big mutt.”

“Ummm excuse me where is my welcoming kiss? I  hope you don’t forget about me Mr. Solomon’s,” Freya said, placing her hands on top of her hips but gave a cheeky smile.

“Hehe why would I not forget my lovely beautiful wife that always brightens my heart whenever I see her hmm?” He said getting up on his feet while Freya smiled and giggled as they both exchanged a kiss on the lips. 

“Ewwww, gross,” said Ellie, making a disgusted face which Freya found funny. 

Once the happy family settled down for dinner the night went on perfectly. As everyone feasted, Alfie and Freya held hands together as they memorized their beautiful little family. Not believing that they have come this far not expecting to have children this quickly. Alfie always thought he would only focus on himself growing his empire until his passing. But when he found Freya all those years ago as a child and saw how they both fell in love with each other. Suddenly all those ideas faded away seeing the perfect future already blooming in front of him. As dinner was ending both Ellie and Nehemiah started to grow sleepy while they all sat in the living room together. Alfie took Ellie in his arms gently taking her up stairs to her bedroom. Freya following close behind held Nehemiah in her arms while the child tried his best to stay awake. 

“Mama I’m not tired yet really,” protested the little boy but Freya wasn’t having it.

“Now my dear don’t be that way, it is late and you need your rest. And we’re going to the beach and if you don’t get your sleep you’ll be tired the next day. Now be a good boy and rest your eyes now, yes?” She said as she opened the door to the boys room as he placed him down on the soft bed. 

“Really mama, do you mean it? Oh I can’t wait to go now alright I’ll head to bed now,” cheerfully says Nehemiah as he gets himself under the bed sheets making Freya chuckle at this. 

“Very well my little Nehemiah i will see you in the morning my love. Goodnight my sweet boy,” she said, placing a gentle kiss on top of the boy's head caressing his left cheek in between.

Once Freya quietly closed the door behind her Alfie was already out of Ellie’s room. They both smiled at each other Alfie held out his hand towards his lovely wife. Freya walked up to him placing her hand on top of his making their way towards their bedroom. Once inside Alfie gently shut the door behind him and without losing another moment he embraced Freya around his arms. They both looked deep into their eyes as their foreheads touched against each other. 

“How is my lovely Queen Solomon’s feeling hm?” He asked, feeling her arms hugging around his neck while she let out a small giggle. 

“Wonderful as always you know I always still question to this day. How did I get very lucky to have you in my life Alfie? Why me and nobody else?” She questioned him wanting to hear those same words over and over again.

“Hehe do you really want me to repeat the same thing over and over again? How many times do I have to tell you my love? Because if I never met you in my life I wouldn’t have known such a wonderful spirit free and goddess like you. And that I am grateful and blessed   to say that you're my one and only woman. I wouldn’t want no one else but you my dear,” he said while gently placing Freya down against the bed hovering above her, taking in her thin lips between his.

Embracing each other in their arms they both laid there nakedly while Freya could hear her husband's heartbeat against her right ear. A small smile was spread throughout her face wanting to be like this forever. And all the while without Alfie not knowing Freya is expecting another blessing that was growing inside her womb.

I love you always and forever Alfie Solomons… until the ends of the earth…

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

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[mariamariquinha]

A Tale of Camden Town (Alfie Solomons x f! reader)

Part 2

Summary: You started to work with Alfie Solomons himself and he proved to be more than a man with a lot to say. 

Word count: 5.4k (hello ???)

Warnings: A slight mention of working in a brothel, another slight mention of religiosity, a bad word here and there, eventual sex talk, unprotected p in v sex, some pining, and Alfie Solomons himself. Forget the canon too, okay? There’s no mention of what happened in Peaky Blinders.

Author’s Note: Sorry for any language mistakes, folks! I’m really happy to share this piece with you all! SAFE TO REMIND that this is a work of FICTION. 

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

I still don’t have a taglist, but my inbox are open for eventual new works if you want!

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It was a rainy day. A stupid… Umid rainy day. 

You looked around Camden Town, pressing your fingers into the hem of your coat that was already two numbers too big for you. Someone yelled on the other side of the street, and it startled you. 

You took the paper from your purse, checked the address, gulped at the realisation as if it was the first time. One step, two steps… 

“You’re late.” 

Marla was a typical middle-aged woman, holding a stern expression but with good intentions from what you’ve heard. She was at a window, opened enough to see your face and not wet the insides of the house.

“I’m sorry.”

She took in your stance, head to toe, then focused on your face.

“Enter through the back door. Be careful with Cyril.”

You didn’t ask who Cyril was; in fact, you didn’t dare to say anything more at all. With said careful steps, you could round the house and find a back door, which you opened. 

“Oh, oh, oh.” 

A beautiful and big Bullmastiff got close enough to sniff your feet and inspect your presence with enthusiasm. With effort, you bowed enough to not let him leave the house and, more so, not ruin your dress. 

“Someone told me that the train would be late because of the bad weather.” Marla appeared again, but this time she wasn’t looking. “How’s Mrs. Fitz?”

“She is…” Cyril sniffed closer to your leg before leaving you. “She’s fine, sent her regards from Peterborough.”

“I should write to her… Please, remind me.”

“As you wish.”

The laundry was almost dark, but there were two small windows for sunny days, you suppose. With small lamps to light up the space, you could see Marla working on a laundry basket, and for a few seconds she lets you take in the place in silence. 

When you looked at her again, she was measuring your clothes. 

“Is that all you have?” She nodded to your small handbag, which made a feel of embarrassment build in your gut. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, Mr. Solomons is not an extravagant man, but perhaps you need more austere uniforms.” Sounded more as a talk to herself, because Marla nodded and gestured for you to come closer. “The late maid left her dresses here, you can use them for now until we buy new ones. Come.”

It was neat, the place where she showed you the extension of your new work. There were two doors, one for each room, and your bedroom was small and sophisticated. Maybe Mr. Solomons weren't extravagant, but the furniture looked… too adequate for a maid’ room. 

“Breakfast is served at seven.” She explained, giving you a full view of her partially greying hair as she tied the dress around your waist. “Mrs. Fitz told me you don’t have experience with cooking, but I’ll teach you with time. As I said, our boss appreciates good things, but he’s sly.”

This thing about Marla intrigued you. She didn’t mention Mr. Solomons with fear, nor reticence - she talked as if he was a normal man, rich by legal achievements and distant from the reality of a gang leader he was. If it was a consequence of her time working for the man, you didn’t know, but you felt some particular curiosity of how things were made.

So you asked.

“Is there anything I should know about him?”

Marla stopped, then looked at you for a moment before going back to fixing the sides of the dress.

“He doesn’t bring his work to the house and you should never ask about it. Don’t snoop, don’t steal, don’t go out there talking about whatever you see here. That’s how things work.”

“Right.”

“... You’ll be fine.” She said it as a statement, both hands in your arms. “And you can call me Marla.”

“Okay… Marla.”

The woman smiled a little, then patted your shoulders and started to talk again about the routine. You didn’t pay that much attention, looking at the window and spotting interesting details at the view of a brick wall on the other side.

Particularly scared of what would be of you now, fixing residence in London and working with an infamous man like Alfie Solomons.

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

First, you’ve heard a thump. Not a big one, you wouldn’t hear it if the house wasn’t so silent. Then Cyril left his place on the counter of the kitchen, wagging tail and running in the direction of the door. Just when you’ve heard a voice, a grunt accompanied by a simple “hey, ma boy” that you knew what time it was.

Seven in the morning. Not even a minute late. The breakfast was already served, you even appreciated the dining room for a moment; the windows and the big table. 

“Marla!” 

She wiped her hands and left without a single complaint of not being able to finish peeling the potatoes with you. There was a small conversation, which you didn’t hear, and she got back.

“He wants to talk with you.”

“... Huh?” You raised your head from the bowl in front of you.

“Mr. Solomons. Go, I’ll finish it.”

And it sounded like a demand, not a question, so you got up and she took your apron in a single movement, gesturing to the door. This time, you didn’t take slow and suspicious steps, maybe for impulse. 

Alfie Solomons was a lot of things. A gang leader, a not so fervent jewish, a baker, a beast, and as you saw with your own eyes that morning, an elegant rich man. He situated himself at the edge of the table, a lit cigar on one side as he ate an omelet and stroked Cyril's head with his left hand. His beard was well cared for, but looking at him at this distance, at his light… He looked sly. 

“Take a seat.” 

You frowned, hesitantly to pull a chair, and this lack of attitude made him take his eyes from the plate to you.

“As I recall, Marla didn't tell me you're deaf.”

So you did, with an embarrassed nod while the man didn’t take his eyes from your subtle presence by his side. Of course you didn’t speak, nor keep staring at him, which led to good moments of silence, just the sound of his fork around the room. 

The rain was pouring outside, bating the window with care. 

“Do you drink?”

“Not if I can avoid it.” 

He nodded, cleaning the sides of his mouth in the last bites of food. 

“And what do you drink when you can’t avoid it?” 

“... Wine, maybe. I don’t think a woman should explore that much of their freedom with alcohol.”

“You don’t need to answer what you think I wanna hear, miss.” Mr. Solomons leaned back on his chair, sighing a little. “Unless what you’re saying is an honest opinion.”

“It is.”

“Why.”

Was that an interrogation? He was measuring your reactions, catching the way you simply felt shy enough with his intense gaze? Either way, you gulped before answering absentimely. 

“My experience says it.”

“You mean your time working on that brothel at Northampton?”

You wanted to say that it wasn’t a brothel. You wanted to look straight into his eyes, confident enough, and mention your conditions to be there. That your life wasn’t easy. That just like him, you needed to find your ways and this ways could be more difficult because of your sex. That you were a respectful woman, even if the places you’ve been weren't respectful. 

But you didn’t. 

Because of course he knew it all. 

“... Yes.”

Mr. Solomons nodded, made a small frown with his mouth, then got back to eating as if it was nothing. Your hands were sweating, you needed to dry them in your dress to prevent any more visible discomfort. 

“Are you religious?” The questions kept going, as you saw.

“I used to go to church with my late employer.”

“Ms. Smith?”

“Yes.”

“And what happened? Not a God to fear anymore?”

“I do my prayers at home, eventually. The work at… the brothel hampered me to visit my faith in a sacred place.”

“Mm.” He hummed, passing a hand on his beard. “So you wouldn’t do anything to harm the integrity of my house?”

“It never crossed my mind, sir.”

Mr. Solomons studied you with attention, creating a tense silence between you both. 

Not that you noticed before, because you never saw him in person, but for a rigid and criminal man, he was easy on the eyes. His gaze had this magnetic orbit, in a pale shade of green which could be perceptive by the comfort light from the window. 

If he saw something on you too, he didn’t show. 

“Do ya have someone to go back for? Here or anywhere?”

You didn’t know why you hesitated to answer that too. Still, he waited patiently like a monk, taking in your expressions like you’re some jewel to be inspected.

“No, sir.” 

“So you don’t have a problem living here? With me and Cyril?”

Whatever plan he had with the conversation, your confusion made it clear that you didn’t understand at all. 

“No, sir.”

“Good, good…” He pondered. “I’ll keep an eye on you, if you don’t mind.”

Not that he was asking, but you wouldn’t know how to answer that, anyway.

“That means that you should also keep in mind that I don’t have any problem punishing a woman with light hands or a tendency to gossip.”

“I’m aware.”

“Looks like we have a deal, then. You can go.”

This time you didn’t even think too much. With a nod and easy steps, you left the man by his own company and entered the kitchen again with what felt like a terrified expression. 

Marla stared at you, then got back to chop the potatoes. 

“Will you catch the next train or we can start with the chores?”

When you sit - taking the apron and not daring to open your mouth, she huffed a smile and shook her head. 

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

Ms. Smith used to say that you loved to stay still, just looking - better saying, observing things. Took you three weeks to learn about a new place, and two more to really understand any kind of mannerisms someone could have, because reading places was easier than reading people.

When your presence at the house turned into a full month, you found it odd because that mechanism changed in just one aspect: Alfie Solomons was a blank page to you. 

You would come and go around the house doing your chores, even preparing his baths because Marla wasn’t feeling that good to go up and down the ladder with a bucket of warm water anymore, but still… nothing. 

And you got that he wanted it to be like that, subtle, away from your acknowledgement. That it was simply a part of him he wasn't ready to show you yet, or not interested at all. 

What happened that night was weird. You were finishing the bath with an extra dose of water, paying attention to the temperature. The lights were low and even with the insistent rain outside, you’re sweating from the efforts of the day, especially in such contact with the hot dread that came from the bathtub. 

Mr. Solomons entered his bedroom in silence, which was regular, but then he groaned in what sounded like pain when he sat on the edge of his bed. Yes, indeed, he was in pain. Not being able to bend over to reach his boots, probably a consequence of his sciatica - that Marla told you eventually. 

Your reaction was automatic, if not bold.

“May I?” 

You were in front of him then, pointing at his foot with a finger but not daring to let it linger for too long. Maybe he just had a bad day at work? Why would you…

“Mm-hm.”

He kept quiet while you stood on your knees there, close enough to untie your shoelaces calmly. It should be really a lot of pain, you though, because he wasn’t the one to stay that quiet. 

“Marla gave you new dresses, innit?” The question made you look at him. He was frowning, both hands hanging on his thighs and eyes on the side of your dress that eventually showed a little of his left shoulder. 

“We…” You cleared your throat, using your fingers to adjust the falling side. “We’ve been cleaning the windows today, Mr. Solomons. The old ones provide me more chances of movement.” 

“So the new ones are tight?”

“No! No, they fit me well, just… It wouldn’t be polite to serve your meals wearing a dirty dress. Nor hygienic.” 

Because you’ve been taking turns on some of these chores, and you tried to keep yourself clean for eventual visits - even if he didn’t receive a lot of them. Maybe the idea bothered him, seeing you like that when he spent money to give better clothes to his servants. 

“And what happened to your shoulder?”

Oh, of course. That. A small scar that seemed insignificant and indifferent, but apparently attracted attention. You weighed your answer for a few moments, fixing your attention at the other shoe instead of speaking at once.

“I had an accident a few years ago.”

“Elaborate on that.”

Okay, he wants to talk. Right. Fine, you can do that.

“... Ms. Smith used to practise horseback riding. She tried to teach me one day, but I eventually fell from the horse and cut my shoulder with the saddle.”

“It hurted a lot, I suppose.”

“Considerably.” You left the shoe beside, well placed on the counter. “Not that I would like to repeat the experience.”

“Of course not.”

It was a subtle giggle, not closer to a laugh but enough to make you mirror his reaction. These sounds filled the space for a time, warming the silent room with a joy that generally were limited to some comment between you and Marla, only. 

When they stopped, the atmosphere kept that warm feeling, but Mr. Solomons was looking at you with a different gaze. A good one, you had to admit, not judgmental for the shy sounds of your discreet laugh. 

“Would you mind if I see it again?”

You should say ‘yes’, right? Wish him a good night and leave without another word, pretend that whatever good feeling he was transferring from his eyes didn’t affect you in what appeared to be an intimate moment. 

But you just shook your head, getting close enough to not make him lean too much, but also to consequently feel his scent, more so a puff of his breath. He was careful enough to touch just the dress fabric, pulling to the side enough to face the scar again. 

And he looked. Looked. Looked. 

The light touch of his fingers made you gasp softly, but he didn’t mind at all. You felt like an experiment being studied by the attentive gaze of that dangerous and infamous man. Your fingers flexed when he turned his eyes to your face, wandering orbs searching for something. 

“You feel it?” He asked with a low voice.

“Tricles."

“Mm… tricles.” The repetition didn’t make much sense, because it was a simple answer, the only one you could give with that proximity. 

“Mr. Solomons?”

Marla’ voice startled you two for… whatever was happening, and that made you freeze. He didn’t look affected though; Mr. Solomons sighed, then used his fingers to put the fabric back with care. 

“Go.” 

Marla didn’t ask when she saw you struggling to put the bucket in place in the laundry, but again, it wasn’t like you would know how to answer too. Your nerves were on fire, a boiling feeling of excitement and anxiety, your mind, on the other hand, wondering what was his intentions - and what was this sensation on you, that not even a cold bath could fix.

Was it… No. No, it can’t be that. He’s my employer, goddammit! He is… He is… 

That night, you prayed for answers. 

Answers you knew God would be ashamed to give. 

-----------

It was like keeping a dirty secret, even if, in a way, you couldn’t define the real nature of what happened between you and Mr. Solomons that night. 

You’ve heard stories about this type of behaviour - employers crossing lines with their servants, making things… wrong. That made you think. From what you knew, Mr. Solomons wasn’t married. And from what you remembered, he didn’t offer something you didn’t want.

Desire sounded dangerous; felt dangerous. Mr. Solomons was a man ready to cross those said lines for some fun? You could catch his eyes for that? Not that you’re planning on getting married soon, and even so, that gesture could be just a reflection of a tired man needing a relief.

During the following days, he acted normal. Good mornings and good evenings, a comment or two about Cyril, and still being the incognite you couldn’t decipher. 

So you let yourself go.

Tried to, at least.

Mr. Solomons would walk by, make a gesture, and you would look. His shoulders, or his legs when he sat at his armchair at evenings to read, sometimes the thick strands of his hair. It started to consume your mind: an attractive man, away from the natural image of his social status.

“Do you know it?” He asked one morning, pointing at the newspaper with a small text about the new tendency of dresses for young women.

“... Fashion is not my best attribute, Mr. Solomons.” You said in a low tone, hands behind your back.

“Is that so?” A huffed smile passed his lips. “And what is?”

You shrugged, grinning more by yourself than for him, properly.

“Special soaps for french baths.”

After that, he started to pay more attention, you thought. Lingering gazes, small talks about the weather, a comment or two referent to what Cyril liked to eat when you and Marla were cooking.

These interactions happened as if in secret moments, when the other woman wasn’t around, sometimes when you’re preparing another one of his baths. He didn’t ask about that night; nor made a point to question your ‘special soaps’, which were nothing more than flower essences. 

It started to feel like a personal and intimate thing. Discreet, lightly, unique, taking your good nights of sleep in exchange for many thoughts and memories about his small acts. Nights twirling your hair, thinking, going to the kitchen to grab a cup of water to retrieve your naivety. 

Alone in your thoughts… Imagining. Wondering.

“No need for lights, miss?” Mr. Solomons’ voice startled you, making a gasp fall from your mouth. He was at the doorway, crossed arms and his daily clothes were still there.

You prepared his bath, you remembered, but he came home late. No dinner, nor any glimpse of his presence. In your mind, the man was probably tired of his daily duties and got straight to the bed after a dinner with his friends, but it looked like you’re wrong. There, in front of you, he was very awake.

“Oh, Mr. Solomons! You scared me.” 

“I see.” A nod. “What are you doing up so late at night, uh?”

“... Just… Just came to grab a cup of water.”

The only source of light was coming from behind his back, more specifically from the dining room. With the curtains opened, you noticed that he could see you completely - including your white and large t-shirt, an unconventional choice of pyjamas for a lady, principally in the company of your own boss. 

This realisation made you cross your arms around yourself in embarrassment.

“Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“Drink water?”

“Be dressed like this in front of you.”

For a man with a talkative demeanour, Mr. Solomons chose again the odd option of staying silent, making a gesture to turn around and giving you a chance to walk through the kitchen with some privacy. 

You did, hesitantly, walking in your tiptoes as if he didn't already see you there. You grabbed a cup, then a bottle of water, poured a good amount and drinked with your face turned to the window. 

It could be just that. Just… an incident. 

But then he started talking, sensing your mouth opening to say a ‘good night’.

“These days have been bringing a lot of difficulty to sleep, eh?” He offered, but you didn’t dare to turn to him. “I feel a sense of comfort for not being the only one in that position.”

“... I’m sorry for that.” You mumbled, gripping the edge of the sink.

“Nah, don’t worry. A man like me lives a good distance from the peaceful nights in bed.”

When you’ve heard him shifting, the subtle creak of the floor responding to his movement, your fingers pressed more firmly on the sink, and you knew he was staring at you, your silhouette reflected by the street light.

“What an interesting choice of a nightgown.” Two, three, four steps, enough to make you feel the warmth of his body behind you, your own already chasing that feeling of excitement back. “Did it belong to someone before?”

“N-Not that I know.”

“So it’s truly yours.” His voice was low, inviting, and it didn’t help when his fingers brushed the fabric of your shirt, just at the line of your spine. “Fits you well.”

You needed to resist the urge to gasp at that mix of sensations; his touch, his voice, his proximity. Shivers were running all over your body because of it and you’re pretty sure he noticed.

“Thank you.” 

“Smells good too. Did you wash with one of your special soaps?”

If he was messing with you, the strength to laugh didn’t exist in enough intensity to make you reproduce it. Still, you tried, eyes fixed on the sink to find some bravery to speak.

“It was just a tale.”

“A tale… Why would you tell me a tale? I truly believed in it, could even ask you to prepare one of those special baths for me.”

Jesus, was he really this close to let you feel his cologne?

“... I think I disappointed you deeply then.”

“We’re not disappointing anyone here. No, no…” His fingers pressed more firmly on the fabric, tugging at it just a little. “What is that tale of yours?”

You felt more embarrassed then, ashamed of what you should tell him. He didn’t sound impatient, but when he tugged more on the shirt, silently demanding you to look at him, you did. And Mr. Solomons was there, eying you with a different glint on his eyes, almost pressing you against the sink. 

You gulped.

“Just a good dose of flower essence, enough to… bring a person closer to their deepest feelings.”

“Mm.” A mumble. “It doesn’t sound like a tale.”

“No?” You breathed at him, staring at some place between his chin and chest, which was peaking a piece of skin from his shirt.

“I would say it’s a promise.”

Mr. Solomons used one single hand to touch your face, lightly, enough to make you sigh at the sensations of his fingers on you again. 

“What kind of deep feeling could a man have, naked in a bathtub? Hm?” He stared straight to your eyes then, raised your chin just enough to look back. “Maybe a missing sensation of touching a soft skin, marked by an accident but equally tempting?”

You couldn’t speak, move, or breathe. That man, that… Creature was there, revelling specific thoughts about you, touching, murmuring, praysing. Any other taste of excitement wasn’t compared to what you felt at that moment; his thoughts during the days after what had happened in the room were like children's stories compared to your racing heart and wandering mind. 

Kissing him for the first time wasn’t what you could ever expect. There was a care, a softness, a burning desire hidden between the touch of his lips on yours. He leaned enough to make you sigh, your bodies in a distance that could be broken by any small movement.

Carefully, he tugged at the side of your shirt, bringing you to his embrace, making you feel his firm body while you used your hands to hold his shoulders. The thin fabric covering your body didn’t hide your pebbled niples and when you brushed just enough on his chest, a low moan escaped from you. 

“Alfie…” You sighed when he distanced his face for air. 

That was enough to light the fire and next thing you knew, his tongue invaded your mouth, which you accepted with fervour. It felt so good, so true, that you almost didn’t catch the noise coming from the maid’ chambers - more so, a door being opened. 

“Marla usually checks on you at night?” Took you a few blinks to process the question, but you shook your head. “Go to my room. Wait for me there.”

And you did without thinking, running as fast as you could without being noisy, aware of your surroundings to reach the stairs in time to hear Marla greeting him. If she saw, if she asked questions, you couldn’t care less.

Your body was on fire - the taste of his mouth on yours still new and delicious. You closed the door of his chambers discreetly, taking deep breaths to calm your nerves and to prepare yourself for what could come. 

Whatever they said to each other, it was fast. You didn’t have time to choose if you should sit on the bed or just stand there, because his footsteps came from the corridor, then he was there again, watching you… literally standing in the middle of the room. 

“She heard something.” Mr. Solomons explained. “We’ll not be interrupted again tonight.”

That sent a shiver through your body. 

“May I ask you a thing?” He got closer again, this time not hiding his eagerness to touch you, placing his two open palms on your waist.

“Sure.”

“Did any man ever claim you?” Instead of seeking your mouth, he controlled his cravings enough not to take another step forward without your answer.

“No…” You shook your head again, fingers playing with the nape of his neck. “Just boys.” There was a smile on his face at your answer, one that you mirrored.

“Lemme claim you then, my sweetie, lemme… The things I wanna do to you.”

“Do it.” You said confidently. “I’m all yours, Alfie. All yours.”

That same palms went further down, grabbing your ass fiercely and using that support to the closeness of your bodies. He raised the hem of the shirt enough to feel nothing but skin, and while you tried desperately to take his own shirt out of his pants, he growled.

“Come here.”

You both walked blindly in the direction of the bed. Alfie sat on the edge, his hands rubbing your nude tights and a look of reverence on his face, taking in the sensation of your finger finally messing with that hair - finally. 

“How do you want me?” You asked with a sigh, horny from head to toe by the way he massaged your buttocks. 

“On top of me… Wanna see that pretty tits of yours bouncing while I fuck you.”

With a smirk of yours, you obliged his wishes by placing one leg on each side of his body, sitting right on top of his crotch. The contact of your bare pussy with the rough of his pants and, more so, his hardening dick, give you a delicious friction. Surrendered by your pebbled niples, he didn’t notice right away when you started to tug on the fabric of his shirt, eager to feel some skin too. 

When he indulged it, taking off his clothes and throwing it away, you saw… a man. A huge one, with a beautiful chest and belly and… God, his arms… You wanted to touch everything at the same time, feel all of the sensations, bite him, scratch him, kiss every centimetre of his skin.

You gasped with the sound of a tear, the cool air of the room hitting the soft skin of your breasts, now bare and touched by him. You moaned when he pinched your niples, testing, grabbing, and eventually sucking with delicacy, which made you see stars at every pass of his tongue. 

The rest was easy to abandon; your shirt and his belt buckle were somewhere behind you. He did a tantalising movement with his bearded cheek to bring his face on the level of yours, brushing your skin until he could take another kiss - a lazy one, but full of the manifestation of your desire. 

“You feel so big, Mr. Solomons…” You moaned on his mouth, using your hips to seek more friction from his hard dick. 

“But you’ll handle it, yeah?” He teased while smiling. “Handle it like a good girl?”

“Mm-hm.” Biting your bottom lip, Alfie lets you chase some release for a few moments, using the distraction to take discreet bites on your neck and chin. 

Right when you feel your pussy clench around nothing, that tightness feeling burning in your belly, he manhandles your body enough to give him space to free his dick. It was really big, leaking in pre cum and making your mouth water. 

“Another time, my goddess.” As if reading your mind, he said. “Now I need to feel you.”

Carefully, again, he positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, teasing your clit a little and earning a soft gasp from you. At first, it felt tight. With all the length opening you up in a slow thrust, you dug your nails into his shoulders, opening your mouth to utter something but saying nothing at all. He watched your face, then the way your cunt took him, moaning at the sensation. 

“You’re gripping me… Look at that tight pussy, being stretched by my cock. Ah… So tight.”

Fully seated on him, you both panted between heated kisses while getting used to the feeling of his cock buried inside you. It didn’t take much for you to start moving, twirling your hips and making him grip your hips firmly. 

“Mmm… Yes, my dear, just like that. ‘Being so good to me.”

He used one of his hands to hold the back of your neck, his fingers pulling a few strands of your hair while conducting the way you moved up and down, the wet sound of your sex filling the room. It felt good, unbearable, almost too much. His encouraging words were whispered in your ear - you’re doing so well, such a good pussy, keep going - made you mewl, and it was better than anything your mind could imagine. 

In the need of more, both of your movements turned hurriedly, fast, making your skin slap against each other with more vigour. He was hitting the right spot, time after time, not daring to stop for even a second.

“Alfie… Alfie…” You moaned with your head thrown back. “I’m gonna…”

“Go on, I wanna feel it. Gimme that.”

And you did, as if your body was waiting for permission, the orgasm washing over you like a wave of pleasure. Alfie trusted you for a little more, just enough for him to disconnect your bodies momentarily to spill his cum all over your belly and tights. 

Usually men wouldn’t moan that loud, hiding their pleasure with grunts and sighs, but he closed his eyes and verbalised his orgasm without shame. Even tired, he puts both hands on your back, bringing you closer again and resting his forehead on your shoulder. 

For a time, it was it. Silence, deep breaths and sweating bodies coming down from a wonderful high. You buried your fingers in his hair again, caressing the soft area to take on the good feeling it brought to you; he just stayed there, mapping your back with his calloused palms as if to memorise it. 

But maybe, back in your senses, you both should do it. Memorise the shape of each other's bodies, feel what you should be feeling in that precious moment, enjoy… Mostly because it couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t even happen a first time, and considering the rational factor, for a lonely man you could provide some release. 

“Nn-nn.” He mumbled when you tried to move out of his grasp, holding you more firmly. “I need to clean you up.”

“But Mr. Solomons…”

“None of it.” Alfie raised his head to look at you. “Inside my chambers, I’m just Alfie to you.”

That made you smile. 

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my dear… Is that so.”

#alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fic #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfic #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons fanfiction #tom hardy

[potter-solomons]

GO REWATCH PEAKY BLINDERS PLEASE.

B needs some new Alfie fics. I'll be good. And somehow repay.

B is me. I am B.

*psa: also not demanding. i know it takes inspo & breaks are needed. please don't take this the wrong way.*

#tom hardy #facepuller #alfie solomons #peaky blinders #alfie solomons one shot #alfie solomons x you #peaky blinders alfie #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons my daddy #bear

[darklydeliciousdesires]

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

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

Words - 7,890

Warnings - Mention of death, but lots of fluff!

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

Her beloved Cyril. Their beloved Cyril.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That bloody bitch effing bloody woman!” 

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

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

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

“Viper,” she interjected with. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he missed him.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus bloody Christ!”  

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

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

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

“Alright, tin man.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too. All four of you.” 

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

The End.  

#alife solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons au #peaky blinders au #peaky blinders fanfiction #alfie and beth #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction

[amazingmaeve]

Alfie Solomons Fic Recs!

go and give each and everyone of these fics a like and reblog. also don’t forget to check the authors out and follow them since they beautifully written these!

say my fuckin name ➵ @cinebration

its bloody three o’clock in the mornin’ ➵ @fallatyourfeet

challah ➵ @fallatyourfeet

caravaggio ➵ @solomons-finest-rum

summary ➵ The mysterious and elusive Mrs. Solomons finally makes a public appearance. Safe to say, her and Grace Shelby won't be best friends.

adagio ➵ @solomons-finest-rum

summary ➵ Yes, you knew that sometimes the age difference between you was palpable, you weren’t stupid. But you wished your own husband believed you when you said you didn’t mind it.

under my protection ➵ @vintunnavaa

summary ➵ When Alfie’s favourite employee fails to report to work, the gangster decides to the needful to bring her back. 

no matter what ➵ @raincoffeeandfandoms

summary ➵ Those times after Alfie was shot by Tommy, he has withdrawn into himself. Lost in thought, Alfie doesn't even remember that today is his birthday. But there you are for him, no matter what he thinks. Unconditionally.

insufferable man ➵ @solomons-finest-rum

summary ➵ You came to be in Alfie’s employment completely by accident. Never in your wildest dreams did you expect to fall for the man as hard as you had and for him to care about you in equal measure.

while she was sleeping ➵ @tomhardyspinkyfinger

summary ➵ Alfie is livid when his secretary misses an important meeting, but all ends well when he meets her daughter he had no idea existed.

a good man ➵ @mrsalwayswrite

summary ➵ Being Alfie's secretary, you have witnessed many sides to the Jewish gangster, but you know a secret. That underneath all his brutality and cunning, he is a good man….even if he disagrees and tries to prove it. 

third wheel ➵ @raincoffeeandfandoms

summary ➵ When Alfie arrives at home late that night, he sees that you are sleeping in bed with someone who is not him. And of course he's not happy. Traitor. Cheater. And the worst part of it is that you and your companion don't seem the least bit remorseful.

#alfie solomons x female reader #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fic recommendations #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons headcanons #alfie solomons one shot #alfie solomons #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders x fic #peaky blinders fic recommendations #peaky blinders headcanon #peaky blinders preferences

[charliehoennam]

gentle giant

Summary: The Solomons enjoy quality family time with their young baby daughter as per request by @j23r23

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!reader

Warnings: fluff, language, mentions of pregnancy and natural childbirth, oc!daughter, hints at smut

SHARING IS CARING, SO REBLOG.

"She can't even play with that yet, Alf. She's too small" you told him when he brought home a large and lavish dollhouse, carried up to your daughter's nursery room by a couple of his men.

"Course she can't now. But, she will someday. Nothing but the best for my little Laura."

You chuckled and shook your head at his excitement, deciding to let him be happy because he genuinely was.

He has never been prouder of anything in his life.

It was needless to say that Alfie wasn't like most fathers of the time. Every day, you woke up feeling blessed and fortunate enough to be his wife.

Now, you are the mother of his child. Of his first born princess that he was already spoiling with all the finest little clothes and toys.

It's been a few months since you'd brought Laura into the world and Alfie's pride radiated as if he'd just learned he was going to be a father. Having expected the high of newfound fatherhood to fade away with late night nappy changes and early morning hungry cries, you were surprised to find that he was still so thrilled about being a father.

Not only was he proud of his little Laura, but he was still amazed beyond comprehension at your body.

During the pregnancy, he constantly marveled at the growing bump in your belly. Alfie was no fool; he understood perfectly well how a woman's body works, yet it was still the greatest miracle to him.

He never stopped calling you a Goddess for having the power to create life.

The birth of your daughter left him complete ecstasy.

Most men, especially in Jewish traditions, it was uncommon for the father to be present in the room for such a thing. But, then again, Alfie was no common man. He was always far from ordinary.

He insisted on being present to watch the miracle himself.

You'd talked about it before and assured him the midwives would take care of you. After all, he had hired the best staff to take care of you before, during and after the pregnancy.

He still continue to insist on being present - as long as you were comfortable with his presence - to watch his beloved daughter come into the world. He would've brought her out of you himself if only he knew how.

You wondered if it might have been instigated by the jealous thought of having a doctor between your legs.

You were more than grateful that he had insisted so strongly because you truly believe that, if it hadn't been for his motivating words and endearing support, you couldn't have done it by yourself.

Alfie had never cried so much in his entire life as he did when he first heard Laura's cries. You knew right away that Laura would have him wrapped around her wrinkly little finger.

And you were right.

It's late evening when Alfie comes home from an exhausting long day of work.

After hanging his hat and coat, he greets his favorite dog and heads off to search for you and his little Laura only to find you naked in the luxurious porcelain tub of your bathroom with your young 6-month-old daughter, sharing a warm bath.

"Well, ain't this a sight for sore eyes, eh?" he smirks from the doorway.

His heart warms as he sees your eyes light up.

"Baths always help her sleep better."

"Can't blame her," he nods unbuttoning his shirt. "Any room for me?"

"There's always room for you."

Of course there is. You hardly get much time to spend with your husband. The absence has him yearning for his family just the same.

He sinks into the opposite side of the tub with a tired groan, raising the water level to your swollen breasts.

"Give 'er here. Give 'er to poppa."

You carefully handed your daughter over to his hands.

Alfie holds her against his naked burly chest, kissing her head and cheeks as he informs her how much he's missed her in the softest tone.

"Daddy's missed you so much, princess. Yes, I have. Barely got see my little angel today. But that's alright, yeah? Poppa's here now, ain't he? You been good for your mother? Behaved yourself?" he questions as if she could respond, taking the small bowl to fill with water before gently pouring it over her back.

You watch leaning back against the porcelain, and admire the vulnerability of the big bad Alfie Solomons.

The word that spread around only spoke how cruel and cunning he was; of the horrors he was capable of and enjoyed inflicting upon those who betrayed him.

Yet, only you know how he could be the complete opposite. This version of him was for your eyes only and, for that, you felt blessed.

With his large hand cupped over Laura's little bare bum, he smiles as he relishes in the sounds of her giggles emitted every time he pours water over her back.

"Yeah, you like that, eh?" Alfie chuckles. "Want another go?"

She squeals happily as he repeats the action, excitedly pulling at his burly chest hair.

He yelps as he tries to unlatch her tiny fingers from his hairs.

"Got the grip of the Devil, don't she?"

"Tell that to my hair. Have to keep it up all the time so she doesn't turn me bald" you smile at him.

She giggles more enthusiastically as she pulls at them again.

"Ow! Laura, I am your father, young lady" he playfully chastises her.

"I think she takes after you."

"How so?"

"She enjoys hurting others."

"No, I enjoy hurting those who deserve it. I done nothing to deserve this" he chuckles at you.

"That's nothing compared to her biting my tits. If you think she's got hands of the Devil, try her teeth."

"They're starting to come in, innit?" he asks gently pulling her chin down to examine the two little white spots on her lower gums. "You never complained when I nibbled on them" he continues shooting a smirking glance at you.

"That was different" you chuckle back.

"I can be gentle" he replies with a wandering gaze at your chest.

"No. They're sore as fuck, Alf. They're off limits tonight."

"They're irresistible, they are. Fucking tripled in size, innit?" he chuckles. "Fucking 'ell, love. God is a cruel bloke, He is."

You laugh shaking your head. Alfie never fails to make you feel like a goddess, despite the worries you had about your changing body. It was exactly uncommon at the time for men to lose interest in their wives after pregnancy.

You'd seen many women go through it and you feared your fate would've been the same.

Thankfully, pregnancy had the opposite effect on Alfie. He was already eager to get started on the second child.

"All I'm saying is Laura will need a sibling when she's older."

Alfie's debating continued even after your shared bath. You're trying your cotton robe closed as he carries Laura into your bedroom where you had laid out her sleeping clothes beforehand.

"You say that all the time."

"Doesn't it make it less true. Besides, the fun part is trying."

Laying Laura down on the bed with a smirk, he stands upright and faces you.

The way he holds your waist has you melting under his touch. You take advantage of the moment to admire his details.

The wrinkles on his forehead, the disheveled light brown locks shining in the warm light of your room, the hairy tuffs that were peeking out from his robe.

You slide your palms up his strong arms until they rest on the back of his neck.

"Alright. I'll put her down for bed and we can have some fun time of our own" you smile sweetly at him.

His plush lips - hidden in his bushy brown beard - spread widely with mischief and excitement, infecting you with arousal as they made their way to press against your own.

You kiss him deliciously, letting his hand rest against your soft cheek. His tongue flicks against your bottom, already begging for entrance. You allow him it.

The kiss is more than enough to fuel the fire already sparked inside, in the depth of your cores. But you're both brought back to reality when Laura tiredly whines and rubs her sleepy eyes, kicking her chubby legs in the air out of frustration.

You part from Alfie's loving hold on you and bend down to scoop Laura up into your arms, assuring her everything is alright in gentle whispers.

Alfie watches how your loving nature is quick to soothe your fussy daugther in admiration. He loves watching you with her. His wife with his daughter in arms. His family.

All the words in every language would never be enough to describe the joy and pride you bring out in him.

Getting Laura to fall asleep is hardly a challenge. She was already tired from the long day and from staying up a bit past her bedtime.

Once you get her warmly dressed for the night, you sit in her nursery's rocking chair to give her one last feed.

She latches onto your nipple quickly, staring up at you with big doey eyes. The mixture of blue and gray remind you of Alfie. Her long lashes flutter as she slowly blinks, suckling for milk as she holds your index finger in her tiny hand.

You hum as you let her drink her fill, hoping to lull her sleep.

She can't resist the building sleep no matter how hard she tries. At this point, she's not even trying to drink anymore. Her eyelids grow heavier with every blink.

Gently tucking your breast back into your robe, you rest Laura's head against your shoulder as you gently pat her back to burp her.

She tries to fuss about having her favorite source of nutrition taken away, but her exhaustion dominates.

It doesn't her long to fall asleep.

Before setting Laura in her crib without stirring her too much, you kiss her head and thank the universe for blessing you such a precious little angel to care for and love.

Walking back to your room, you search Alfie but you find he's no longer there. So, you walk down the hall and the stairs in search of your husband, knowing exactly where to find him.

The office door is open as the light shines, providing the only light in the hallway. As you lean in the doorway, you smile and tap against the wooden door.

"She go down alright or put up a fuss?" Alfie smiles looking up at you from his paperwork.

"No fuss tonight. I think she was really tired." You walk into his office with a smile as you make your way towards him. "Now it's time for the grown-ups to have some fun."

Alfie smirks as his chair spins, watching you struct over to his side. His eyes scan over your frame, drinking in the sight of you as you untie your robe, letting the fabric part and shyly reveal your naked body.

"Unless you'd like to stay down here and work?"

He chuckles as he stands and kisses you tenderly, holding your face in his hands as if you're made of the most delicate and precious glass with his rough fingertips gently propping your chin up to make you face him.

"Love, the only work I've got to do is fucking you until you can't walk."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #tom hardy #peaky blinders #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fluff

[sopxhiea]

Taboo

Alfie Solomons X Reader

TW(?): Mentions of Cheating

Summary: What if you meet the love of your love but you’re already married to someone else?

“Feel free to kill me for saying this...”

The rain quietly hits the grey pavement of the grim street, the lights are open even though it’s quite early in the afternoon. A faint scream comes from the corner, a kid running through the splashing rain with a jacket on his shoulders. The shops are all open, the businesses booming around town while the changing autumn weather gets the best of the unprepared.

You stand in the bakery shop.

A sigh leaves your lips, umbrella left somewhere at home while you shiver lightly in the bread smell covered little box you’re standing in. Your dress is light for the weather as it rests against your collarbones, the pinkish color matching the blush on your cheeks. You smile at the workers after thanking them for letting you stay in until the weather is a little bit better.

You don’t want to go home.

It hadn’t been your idea, the whole marriage deal. It wasn’t like you hated your husband. William was sweet to you, gentle even but there was no passion in the relationship. You knew marriage was an economical proposition, William was the best option you had at the time and he had been intriguing enough for you to say yes.

You sometimes wish you hadn’t.

Another light shiver runs up your spine but before you can rub your hands together again, the bell on the door rings, indicating someone else came in the shop. The chatter filled air is silent when the door closes, the life out of the shop sucked out once the new guest arrives.

It’s him.

His hat is covered in rain and so are his shoulders, you can’t completely see his face since his hat creates a shadow under the well-lit room. Your eyes travel along his golden beard, following the ring covered hand of his and his crown tattoo catches your eye but all along, you just stand in the same place.

His eyes travel across the small shop, giving a nod of recognition to the familiar workers as they get his regular order ready. It’s early for him to be showing up in the afternoon hours but no one in the shop is daring enough to question the gangster. While he looks around the small wooden place, his eyes land on the little pretty lady standing next to the window.

You seem to be lightly shivering, he gathers its because of your light dress. His eyes roam around our body, a little too inappropriately for a while and he stops when he sees you looking right at him. You give him a small smile, it’s your form of greeting and he’s too stunned to smile back so he nods at you.

He knows you as the little lady around the corner. You’re young, at least half his age. He knows you’re married to that wealthy William bloke, the one who doesn’t talk much and he wonders if he talks to you or if he is as boring as Alfie makes him out to be. His eyes travel across your back and he admires your wavy hair under the light. You look picturesque as he takes a better look at you.

“Afternoon, Mr. Solomons.” speaks one of the employees, hand holding two bags of bread and bakeries for him. You can sense the tension in the air but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest, you have a lot of it at your own home.

The first couple of years were good, you think. William was attentive and calm like he usually was but the more time passed, the quieter he became. He didn’t talk much in the first place but you’d always been the conversation maker anyway. With the passing years, the house grew dull and so did your relationship to your husband.

At least he was wealthy, you thought.

Feeling the stranger’s eyes on you, you looked right back at him. There was an air around him, the kind of aura that perked your interest. You always had the tendency to get yourself in trouble, it was why your mom wanted you to marry William. Because he was good and well-behaved and you were fire, you were pure trouble and he balanced you out.

“It ‘s, yeah.” Alfie speaks to the employee, getting the bags from his hand while keeping his eyes mostly on you. 

You feel the rain get lighter by the passing second, if only you had an umbrella. It’s possible for you to go home on foot from the bakery but if you do so, you know the pastries will get wet and you don’t want to hear your husband complain. 

You don’t realize this is Alfie’s shop, not until you figure who he is.

You’ve heard things, everyone has. You know the scary old gangster that resides on the same part of London as you. Most people are scared of the man, only knowing him as the murderer and the powerful man they made him out to be but you know better than to stare at him for too long.

He sees the glisten in your eyes and hesitates to walk out of the shop. He knows you’re a regular but he’s never had the pleasure of seeing you up close before. You’re proper lovely, he thinks and the more he looks at you, the more he realizes that you’re not the type to shy away by any means.

“Lass..” he speaks, taking a step closer to you and the employees are all gone to the back by the time you look up to meet his blue eyes.

“Yes?” you speak, your voice is so breathy that it makes his eyes flutter. He smiles a little, not able to hide the hints of amusement on his face as he takes a good look at your features.

You’re young, you already look younger than you are and he sees the lack of experience written in your delicate features. His eyes travel to your lips as you lick them, your soft eyes illuminated by the bakery shop as you stare up at him with curious eyes.

“Ya’ need help?” he speaks and you shoot him a daring look, allowing him to speak further and he feels himself get carried away.  “The bags, yeah, I got a fuckin’ umbrella right ‘ere.” his voice fades by the end of his sentence but your eyes don’t budge. He knows you’re not scared of the big scary gangster.

“I...uh.” you speak, eyes traveling to his hand where he’s holding the said umbrella. You give him a faint smile then, you don’t want to go home but the offer is far too intriguing.

He seems dangerous, you’re drawn to him.

“That’d be wonderful, thank you.” you say and the movement that follows your words is almost automatic as you smile up at him. 

He opens the door for you after getting the umbrella ready, the thing is more than enough for the both of you and since you happen to be half the man’s size, you easily manoeuvre your way next to him under the grimy weather. You stand next to him for a couple minutes as he looks down at you, your curious eyes ogling the man who’s currently holding up an umbrella for you.

He smiles down at you, in an adoring way almost and starts walking under the umbrella with you on his side. As the smell of rum and vanilla consumes you, you come to realise that the bloke walking next to you is a lot more taller than you’d anticipated. You need to crane your neck to look up at him but you shrug the thought away and keep walking.

You soon realise that the gentlemen has been staring the whole time, his glances grow longer and longer each time he takes a look at you. You gulp, realising that you’ve probably made a poor decision by accepting the stranger’s offer since he happens to be a gangster but you look past it.

“Yer’ shiverin’, pet.” he speaks, looking down at you once again and you ignore the little flip of your stomach when he does.

“Oh.” you speak, not knowing why he felt the need to point the fact out. “It is raining outside, I’d say that’s fairly normal.” you speak, biting back a response and he looks at you with a low chuckle, you don’t look feisty to him but your words say otherwise.

“Fuckin’ hell.” he mutters under his breath and you smile at his reaction, he doesn’t know what he’s in for.

You don’t feel the need to apologize for biting back a response like you just have, although most proper ladies would. You’re far too tired and spent for that, just no matter how much younger you are. His eyebrows shoot up when you remain silent, he’s waiting for some kind of ‘sorry’ for the fact that you’ve just talked back to a gangster.

“Proper lady like yourself, yeah, shouldn’t be speakin’ that way.” he says, his suggestion is lighthearted but it makes you look up at him as you walk next to the built man. His hand is tugging at his beard as his orbs stare at you.

“What makes you think I’m a proper lady?” you speak, the whole sentence filled with giggles as you make out the words. You’re far from proper.

Oh, if only he knew.

He’s heard of you. It wasn’t like everyone knew of how wild you were before you had gotten married but as the man who ran the town you were currently residing in, it was hard not to. He’s heard of the young girl with the wicked smile, the one many lusted after but she was soon married off to a wealthy guy to make sure she didn’t get pregnant or run off.

“Ya’ definitely look like one, lass.” he speaks under his breath when you stop at your doorstep.

The apartment you live in is the posh area, thanks to the money your husband so earnestly earns. His whole family is known for their money which was why your mother had jumped to the idea of marrying one of his kin, so that you’d leave a comfortable life with a quiet husband.

But she hadn’t realised that there was no love between the two of you.

There was understanding and a lot of quiet but no love. The sex was adequate but William was selfish when it came to it, it wasn’t like what you wanted sex to be for the rest of your life and much like with everything else, his family had blamed you for not being able to get pregnant years on end. You were to blame for all things, no matter what it was.

“Well, this proper looking lady thanks you for walking her home.” you spoke, a smile on your lips after you climbed onto the doorstep. Your height was even now, the steps had done that and you could see his features a little clearer.

Wasn’t he supposed be an old guy?

His golden beard covered a good portion of his handsome features but you could see that he was a sharp looking gentlemen. His blue orbs were gentle as they gazed into your eyes, his plump lips curtained by his beard as they glistened under his umbrella. You ignored the way his smell surrounded you, the maid would be opening the door soon and you’d have to go in.

“Very much welcome, yeah, my fuckin’ pleasure.” he smiled at you, his gaze getting stuck on your lips every now and then and he was not subtle about it which made you smile back at him.

You heard the footsteps of the maid from the other side of the room, the rain long gone now but the umbrella is still in its place in his calloused hands. You gulp and he senses the hesitation, his gaze dropping on your wedding ring every now and then.

“See you around, Mr. Solomons.” And you disappear behind the front door.

-----

A month.

A month passes by where the handsome scary gangster comes by the bakery a little too often. The workers know the reason is you but you remain oblivious. There are more pastries in your house each day, he sends them as his regards on the days you don’t stop by. You don’t tell your husband but he’s away on business on most days as you writhe in the big house.

You’re situated on the floor in nothing but your nightgown. There’s a book on your lap and a drink in your hand, you try not to drink in the afternoons but wine is too intriguing. You sip on the cold drink while laying on the cold wooden surface, feet moving along to the little rhythm that plays in the room from the corner.

You don’t think about the way his eyes roam all over your body and how he licks his lips every time you smile at him. Your mind is not on how his rings feel on your skin as he guides your hands through the shelves in the bakery. He knows which bread is good and he’s gotten to know your taste, your breath hitches every time he stands too close to watch as you decide on which loaf to get for the day.

You don’t hear the knock.

The maid is quick on her feet to greet the guest. She understands the struggles of being married to someone you don’t love, she’s almost a friend to you while you ask her to teach you things like knitting and cooking each week. There’s an understanding between the two of you, something that comes from being females in this cold world. You think of her as a gift from your husband, since the bloke is always away.

“Miss.” the maid speaks, her voice is quiet and you don’t look up from your book as you lay on the floor, just a nod of acknowledgment that tells her to keep speaking. “You have a guest.”

But you don’t know anyone.

Your eyes look up at her first but your eyes soon travel to the tall man next to her. You know the hat. Your body is fast to get up, feeling some need to cover up with something since the nightgown you’re wearing is merely a thin dress. You gulp, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders as you nod at the maid, she’s quick to leave.

“Mr. Solomons.” you speak, voice cautious as you stare up at him. He’s wearing his usual attire and you can smell the bakes goods he’s brought. But you’re oblivious as to why he’s in your house.

“Miss Y/N.” he speaks, he knows you’re married.

“It’s Mrs, actually.” you say, before you can register. There are lines you cannot cross, you’re aware but you don’t realise just how eager you feel to cross them.

“Right.” he says, eyes dropping to your wedding ring once again.

Your hand shows him the seat, ushering him to take a seat but his eyes are glued on your small form. He can see your body clearly under the afternoon light that creeps from the open blinds. He takes the seat and hears the sound of the pot, the maid is making tea and he wonders if you do this a lot, invite unmarried dangerous man to your house and seduce them with just a look.

But you haven’t even done anything.

“What brings you here?” you speak as you lift the book and the drink and put both of them on the drawer next to the shelves. He soon realises the whole room is decorated with books, paintings and music records, so this is what you do when your husband is away.

“Curiosity.” he speaks, eyes scanning yours for any kind of sign but all you have in your orbs is a sign.

You’re warning him.

You’re married, you so badly wish you weren’t in this moment but you are. There’s a wedding band on your ring and you’re bound to another man. He’s boring, wealthy but he’s too quiet for you. No matter just how fucked up it all is, you don’t feel the courage to betray William. He’s been fairly good to you, leaving you on your own with a maid who’s been a good friend to you. He provides for you and he’s bought you everything you want.

“I see.” you speak, not sure of yourself because you don’t trust yourself around this man. He’s far too intriguing.

You give him a smile then, it’s the same kind of smile of a girl who’s bound to break Alfie’s heart. He knows it and you know it, too. The maid quietly comes in then, tea and pastries the beloved gangster has brought on a tray and she sets the table up for the two of you and leaves, just like that.

“Mr. Solomons, I-” you start once the maid is out, he’s relentless, you think as he cuts you off.

“Cut that out, pet, yeah, we both know there’s no fuckin’ use to it.”  he speaks and you smile again, his words cut through the silence a little harsher than he meant for them to do.

“Alright then.” you speak and get up to settle on the table. He follows your movements and soon, you’re both sitting on the table with tea cups on our hand. “Alfie.” your voice is breathy as you whisper his name, he can’t help but imagine how your voice would sound like in the middle of a good fuck.

“Feel free to kill me for saying this, pet...” he speaks, voice altering but it’s easy to sense his confidence. You watch him under a heavy gaze while he takes a sip from his cup and speaks. “..but you’re awfully distracting for a man like me.”

He speaks the truth as he looks at you. He’s been feeling rather frenzy, thoughts occupied mostly by work and then there was the thought of you creeping in between the lines. How you’d look after a good fuck, seeming as you don’t get any with your husband being away and all. He found himself thinking about you as he stared at the fire place, the little lady around the corner who seemed too feisty for her own good, fucking gorgeous too if he was to add.

“A man like you?” you speak, eyes traveling across the table to meet his blue ones. You see him smile and shake your head, he’s already a goner.

“Fuckin’....criminal, yeah. Have you not heard what I fuckin’ do, pet?” he asks, eyes searching yours but the only thing he finds it is amusement.

“Aren’t you the scary big gangster around the corner?” you ask, a wide smile on your lips after you take a sip from the hot cup of tea.

So you do know, he thinks. 

And you know. You know he kills for a living and that the bakery is just a cover up, word travels fast around here. You know he’s crushed a man’s windpipe with the hold of his head, that he’s nothing but trouble. You know all about the money he collects, the way people tremble when they hear he’s around. You know all about him.

“I am, yeah. And seein’ as I am just that, your pretty little self shouldn’t be concerned with me, right.” he speaks and you see the lines of hesitation flicker on his face. It’s his time to warn you but you’ve already crossed a line and you intend to push him since he’s made the effort to come to you.

“Concerned?” you ask, taken aback a little and you watch him watch you while you take a sip. 

He’s playing with the devil herself and he doesn’t even know it.

“I’m not concerned at all. Just interested.” you speak into the silence and he swears he hears his heart pounding on his chest. You were the woman they’d warned him about after all.

He chuckles at your words, eyes widening for a second as he leans back. His hand tugs at his beard, observing you for a second before his deep voice fills the house your husband bought for you. “Interested, yeah?”

“Hmm.” you hum, nodding as you confirm his words. You’re wilder than he thinks, he says to himself but he’s definitely not the one to shy away so he stares right ahead at you. “Very much so.”

“You, yeah..” his finger points at you then which brings a soft smile to your lips, you look like an angel yet you speak of devilish things. “..seem like nothin’ but trouble.” he speaks, eyes not off you for a second as you find him even more intriguing.

“Isn’t it your job to deal with said trouble?” you blink at him, literally batting eyelashes as he looks at you.

He doesn’t even like your husband, he thinks. Why is he hesitating so much?

He chuckles once again, he’s impressed to say the least. He knows the maid is in the house somewhere, surely listening but you don’t seem to give a damn. He sees the need for danger, for thrill and excitement in this little boring life you’re stuck with and if he’s honest with himself, he’ll willingly be the source of all thrill for you but something stops him from doing that.

The uncertainty of what you’re asking for.

Just when he’s getting deep into thought, you break the chain of sentences that reside on his mind by clearing your throat softly and speaking. You don’t beat around the bush.

“Look, Alfie..” your voice is stern this time. “..I don’t do this, ever. I need you to know that I’ve been loyal to my husband since the beginning, despite the things I’m sure you’ve heard..” you speak, and you are right. He’d heard an awful lot about you, mostly bad but he’d ignored it. He had the same treatment himself. “I don’t have time to beat around the bush. I need relief.....in all senses of the word.”

He watches you under a stern stare, he sees the glint of truth and bluntness mixed in with your words. “If you are willing to provide me with said relief, you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you please but if not, you can go back through the same door you came from.”

You smile at the end of your sentence, he can’t tell of he’s about to sell his soul to the devil herself or if you are just looking for a way out. His eyes scan your half dressed form, if he’s honest with himself, you’ve been the only thing in his mind for the last month but he’s too proud to show it. He’s attracted to you, drawn to your small form like moth to a flame and he truly doesn’t care that you’re married.

Sometimes, he thinks, people marry the wrong partners.

And you’re the perfect example of that. He knows your bloke is out on some country, you’re more than sure he’s already cheated a couple times but it doesn’t bother you. You don’t love William, you like his company but that’s also not something you prefer. You need the attention you crave from Alfie and he seems like the perfect gentlemen.

“Alright, lass.” he speaks, playing with his rings still as he looks at your small form once again. William doesn’t know he’s missing out on a goddess, he thinks. You flash him a small smile when he gets up to either leave or accept the generous offer.

He gets sex, he gets you and he gets to do it all in someone else’s mess. He knows certain things will develop with time but he’s too riled up at the moment to think about them, his judgement gets cloudier each time he thinks of what it would be like to have you all to himself, a piece of heaven. 

His voice fills the oak walls and you wickedly smile after his words. After he’s done speaking, he’ll follow you to the bathroom and the walls will be filled with something other than the faint jazz music from the record player for once.

“Lead the way.”

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive​  @parkbearum​ @sourirez​  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog​ @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @babaohhhriley​ @fairypitou​  @tommydoesntpayforsuits​  @paintballkid711​ @misselsbells06

a/n: Ok soooooo i was gone for like....idk how long but uni kicked my ass and i had to take some time off but anyway i hope all you angels are doing good!!<33 Idk if this means i’m back YET bc i have to move soon so there’s thatBUT i hope you enjoy this and let me know what you thought of it <3 xoxo

also i don’t support cheating or anything of the kind THIS IS IMAGINARY <3

#alfie #alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons series #peaky blinders #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons scenario #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x shelby!reader #alfie solomons peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders alfie #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders scenario #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders fiction #alfie solomons angst #peaky blinders fluff #eames tom hardy #tom hardy alfie solomons #tom hardy series #tom hardy scenario #alfie solomons ssmut

[solomons-finest-rum]

“The Elephant in the Room” (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader) — PART 4

Read Part 1 Here

Read Part 2 Here

Read Part 3 Here

SUMMARY — What you thought would be a nice private space rented from a nice lady in a nice neighbourhood soon turned to be a living nightmare. Enter: the most excentric little girl and her even more unconventional father who just so happens to be the criminal boss of Camden Town.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hi friends! 💗💗💗💗💗 I know it took me a while and I'll be very honest, I'm not even sure when the next final chapter of this story is going to happen - or even if I'll ever write for Alfie beside this fic and for that I'm sorry. After the last season I just don't feel these characters as strongly as I used to, and believe me that is hard for me to feel. What I do know is that I have to finish this story, otherwise it'll probably haunt me forever.

WORD COUNT — 3,290

Masterlist

To their credit, the Solomons household seemed to have gradually toned down their noise and general nuisance the longer you remained the tenant of Mrs. Collins. 

Even though Alice still popped in and out as she pleased and Alfie came to collect her at the oddest hours of the night, all of you, including your landlady, seemed to have reached the point of successful co-existence. 

Alfie and Mrs. Collins even came back to their Friday tradition of playing cards together–one you were sure they thought you knew nothing about, though it would be hard not to. It usually was accompanied by Alfie’s barking laughter that could be heard all the way upstairs, and Mrs. Collins smoking at least a carton of cigarettes.

More often than not, Alice would stay with you during those games, and she would bother you and incessantly ask for a story until you relented and read to her until she fell asleep on your bed. Alfie would later come to get her home and scoop her up in his arms as if the girl weighed nothing. Your babysitting time would then be thanked for with a nod, one which you found was possibly the highest praise the man could ever give you.

As for you, your plan to show young Alice the good example was still in motion. The stories you read her were not random at all–both the authors and subjects were carefully chosen and most appropriate for a young girl. Some were possibly a little beyond Alice’s age, though you quickly learned she was most certainly her father’s daughter. Quick as a wink, Alice certainly kept you on your toes more than you did her. 

As for her father’s education… You allowed yourself one tiny reformation of one Alfie Solomons and so you made the point of politely greeting Alfie and his daughter each time you saw them on the street. A creature of impeccable manners, your “good mornings”, “goodbyes” and “good evenings” would always be uttered and never assumed.

The greetings seemed to do nothing for Alfie, though they did rub off on Alice quickly enough. Even if she treated the greetings as a play-pretend at first and parroted you only because she saw it funny, soon enough you two greeting each other like royalty became your little game. As a bonus, you saw it annoyed the girl’s father to no end and so you had no desire to stop.

One such morning, you were on your way to school and actually didn’t expect to meet your neighbours, but there he was–Alfie–standing in front of your building and obviously expecting you, because he shut his pocket watch as soon as you came out. He looked nicer than usual too, or better dressed at least. His usual crumpled shirt was replaced by a clean one and this time he was actually wearing the suspenders properly instead of letting them hang about.

“Good morning, Mr. Solomons!” you chirped like a happy little robin and skipped down the stairs as you came to greet him.

Alfie only grumbled something at you as he always did, though what you didn’t expect next was the actual words that came out of the man:

“We got business to discuss.”

You frowned, but did him the courtesy to actually look him in the eye as you replied:

“Then walk with me, Mr. Solomons, unless you wish me to be late on your account.”

He smirked as if your answer actually pleased him, then he pointed towards the opposite end of the street where a large black car was parked.

“I don’t walk.”

You looked down to note that indeed, since the last time you saw him, his two legs were still attached where they had been, then you smirked at him yourself and made the point of checking your own watch.

“Five minutes, but then I really must go.”

Alfie frowned even harder and you realised that him pointing at the car must have been a silent proposition, which meant… Not only did he make the point of learning your schedule, but it was safe to assume he actually knew where you worked. And if it took that much effort, clean shirt included, then perhaps it could be worth your while. 

You followed him to the car.

To the surprise of exactly no one, Alfie was neither one for walks nor driving—there was a young man already sitting behind the wheel, dressed from head to toe in black and looking solemn as an owl.

As soon as you sat next to Alfie, the driver started the car, as this apparently had also been part of the plan.

“You better not make me late,” you said stiffly, which in turn amused Alfie greatly and confused you even more. There really was no rule when it came to the man; the things that angered him and the things that didn’t would be a most helpful list to have.

“Naaah, don’t think I’d dare, would I?” Alfie drawled in that tone of his, then looked you straight in the eye as if to challenge you for another retort.

You looked at him pointedly instead and finally he got to the point:

“You’re a teacher.”

Well, almost. Almost to the point.

“Yes,” you hesitated, “but you already know that.”

“Right, an’ with how much ya work, how exactly do your evenings look like?”

Truth be told, you came to learn to expect absolutely everything from the man, and yet he still managed to surprise you.

“Are you asking me out, Mr. Solomons?”

“Would ya like me to ask ya out, Y/N?”

He was quick on his feet, you had to give him that. You noticed already that he never called you anything else but your Christian name. No “miss” or surnames, no nothing. As odd as the man was, though, that was probably the least surprising behaviour in his arsenal you noted so far.

You realised you must have been silent for a moment too long, because Alfie shook his head and his face was back to serious.

“My daughter,” he said, “she ain’t got an ounce of manner in her that you do, an’ I say that, alright, ‘cause I love that li’l monster to death, yeah, but I’ve done most that I could at this point to get some sense into her. So…” He scratched his cheek, which you knew meant he was really thinking about what he was going to say next. “Yeah, but you’re a proper lady, right. You can teach her.”

Your silence seemed to have meant a far greater deal to him than you thought, because he swiftly added:

“For cash.”

You couldn’t exactly explain why it made you laugh as hard as it did, though you composed yourself as quickly as possible after that little outburst. Alfie Solomons was not the sort of man you could get away with mocking.

“Mr. Solomons, I have a job,” you answered incredulously.

“Yeah.”

That apparently wasn’t good enough for Alfie and so he waited until you came up with another excuse:

“I already read with her sometimes.”

“I know.”

“Her vocabulary really is very good.”

“So I hear.”

“But her grammar leaves much to be desired.”

You looked at the man perhaps more sternly than most would dare, but then again–you weren’t most, and Alfie certainly seemed to be enjoying that little exchange.

“Are you sayin’ that’s my fault now?” he asked and you blushed before the meaning fully registered with you.

“No, I–”

“’Cause you’d be right, yeah.”

“Mr. Solomons–”

“I’m no company for a child, an’ not for a li’l girl for that matter.” There was something else lingering in between, something he decided not to utter. “So I’ll pay you. For your time. You’re a teacher, so teach her.”

You frowned and perhaps that gave you away, because Alfie then proposed a wage twice the size of your monthly salary. He just threw it around too, like it was nothing at all.

“Why don’t you just send her to school? She would be more than welcome in my class,” you asked before you could help yourself and this time you could see Alfie’s mercurial mood was back and there would be no more smirks or banter between you.

“I’ll bring her around tomorrow,” Alfie said instead, then tipped his hat to you when the car stopped and the driver jogged around it to open the door for you.

Teaching young Alice became a task no less taxing than your regular job. When Alfie brought her around for her first lesson, all he did was drag her into the main hall, bark something in a foreign language that sounded more like a threat than affection, and then slam the door behind him as he tended to do.

“Damn that man, he’ll pay for the new hinges!” Mrs. Collins uttered as she entered the hall to check the source of that noise.

“Mrs. Collins, can we play dress up?” Alice asked, thoroughly ignoring your presence at first.

“Don’t think so, young lady, you’ve got some studyin’ to do, or so I hear,” Mrs. Collins informed her before disappearing into her living room, followed by a cloud of smoke.

“But–”

“Come along now,” you said to the girl and to your surprise Alice actually followed you upstairs–not without stomping like an elephant, though.

“Alice.” You stopped mid-way to give her a look and even though you saw she hated you for it, the remaining journey upstairs involved considerably less noise.

As much as you knew that Alice despised the process, you tried your best to make it easier for her and you prepared a small table and a chair for her by the window to sit at. Even though Alice said nothing at first, she sprinted towards it and for the first time sat down like a proper pupil.

You tried your best not to smile at that. Yes, the girl was endearing and you grew more fond of her than you were willing to admit, but at the same time you knew that showing her this would only encourage her wild ways.

“Alice.”

She looked at you with big round eyes.

“You should say ‘thank you’.”

“Why?”

“When someone does something nice for you, you say ‘thank you’.”

“Oh.” She considered it for a while, then nodded. “I agree.”

You sighed and noted with some discouragement that even if Alice understood more than she let on, it was another thing entirely to coax the admittance of that out of her.

“Fine,” you decided and passed Alice a piece of paper and a pencil. “I thought we could revise the story we read last time. Alice in Wonderland? You seemed to enjoy it.”

“She had the same name as me,” Alice grinned at you, but then glanced at the blank sheet and her smile faded. “You want me to write?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

It looked like the girl would make you work even harder for your wage than the man actually paying you.

“Good penmanship is important for a woman. You can tell a lot by a person’s handwriting, you know.”

“Like what?”

“Well,” you sighed and pulled yourself a chair to sit next to Alice. “You can tell if they were in a hurry or not. If they were happy or sad when they wrote to you. Sometimes you can even tell if they were angry.”

“You can tell all of that from a letter?” Alice looked at you like she didn’t believe you.

“Sometimes.”

“What can you tell from mine?!”

“That you really need to apply yourself, little miss!” You laughed.

The next time Alice came for her lessons, she looked actually excited. She sprinted through the front door as soon as it opened and ran upstairs before Alfie could even finish his sentence to her.

“Here,” he grumbled to you instead and handed you a wad of banknotes. Safe to say, it was much more than you two actually agreed to.

You frowned, then unfolded the money, counted the appropriate amount and handed the rest to him with your best disapproving look reserved only for your most disobedient pupils. Even if Alfie wanted to say anything else, his daughter had other priorities:

“Hurry up!” Alice ran down the stairs to scream at you, then hurried back up with a squeal once she saw your angry face.

This family would honestly be the death of you.

“Listen,” Alfie took you by the hand to stop you from leaving and it honestly surprised you just how warm he was. Judging by his rough demeanour, it was not at all what you expected.

There was a pause between you and you waited for him to speak his mind, but finally he just let go of you and dryly informed you he would be late to pick Alice up.

Deciding to think nothing of it, you went upstairs where you found Alice, all giddy by her desk.

“What’s gotten into you?” you huffed.

“Look!” She reached into her pocket and handed you a yellowish envelope.

“What is it?” You took it carefully, because it looked old. Part of the envelope was even torn off, revealing a letter inside.

“You said you can decipher letters,” Alice explained. “So tell me who wrote it.”

“What?”

“Tell me if she was happy or sad!”

You looked at the name at the front of the envelope then and your blood curdled.

“Alice!” you exclaimed. “This isn’t yours!”

“No,” she frowned in annoyance as if you were at fault here. “It’s Alfie’s. From my mother.”

“You took it?!”

“Yes,” she drawled, obviously not understanding your outrage. “You said you can know by the… by the penmanship. So can you?”

The meaning behind all this was obvious and it was very hard for you to decide what exactly would be the most appropriate reaction. The girl wanted to feel connected to her mother, this much was clear. Alfie, as far as you could tell, was a man of many secrets. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like living in one house with him, and certainly not what it would be like living with him and having to steer clear of the topic Alice had every right to want to know more about.

“Alice, you cannot just take someone’s private correspondence,” you explained and crouched near her seat to look at her face. There definitely was a spectrum of conflicting emotion there.

“But you said–”

“I know. I know and perhaps it’s my fault.” You gave her back the letter and she sighed deeply before putting it back in her pocket. “Alice, whatever’s in that letter, it’s private.”

She didn’t look at you and didn’t speak for the longest time, but what she said next nearly made you want to side with her:

“Why does he get to know her and I don’t?”

“That’s not for me to say,” you admitted, though perhaps that was just one more excuse that the adults liked to use around her. For her age, Alice was particularly good at asking very clever questions.

“How about…” You gently took her hand in yours, feeling sorry for the girl. “How about you read to me today and I’ll listen?”

Her face finally lit up when she looked at you.

“So I’ll be the teacher?!”

“Ah… Something like that.”

Alfie wasn’t lying when he said he would be late. It was way after midnight when he finally showed up. By that time you let Alice nap on your bed while you stayed up to correct your other pupils’ homework. You didn’t manage it all, though. Between your day job and tutoring Alice, you felt like you were spreading yourself thinner and thinner. Perhaps it was one of the reasons you didn’t even hear Alfie knock on your bedroom door, then enter. When you saw him approach your desk, you nearly yelped.

“Shh,” he pressed his finger to his mouth and smirked at the state of you. “Fuckin’ hell. Get some sleep sometimes, won’t ya?”

You scowled at him which amused him even more. He then looked at Alice, sleeping soundly on your bed, and for a second there his features softened just enough to reveal the person behind all the roughness.

“How’s she doin’?” he asked, for some reason not at all eager to leave.

Alfie smelled of rum, a scent you learned to associate purely with him, and you also noticed that he must have changed his shirt before he came here. Why, you wouldn’t dare to guess.

“She…” You hesitated, but in the end your instincts failed you. Or perhaps it was just that you were so tired.

“She brought me a letter today.” You looked up at him. “It’s… Something you should discuss with her in private, perhaps.”

Even if Alfie was surprised, he wouldn’t show it. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of you, though. He watched you closer than ever.

“Did you read it?” he asked, and if he was angry, he hid it very well.

“Of course not!”

“Shh,” he silenced you again, no less amused than before.

Alfie looked back at Alice then and scratched his cheek.

“Yeah, you should. ‘S a good letter, that.”

As bizarre a notion as that was, his behaviour was even stranger.

“So you know she took it?”

“Yeah, ‘course I do.”

“Mr. Solomons…”

“When exactly were ya plannin’ to stop callin’ me that?”

Alfie looked at you then with such conviction that for a minute you really thought he was angry.

What he said next, though, managed to change your mind:

“She told you how it happened.”

“You mean Mrs. Collins?”

“Yeah.”

“She… Well, she… Mentioned. That you became a father. Yes.”

Your cheeks felt red-hot and you forced yourself to look away from him. It didn’t escape you, though, how wolfish his grin became all of a sudden.

“An’ how does one become a father, Y/N?”

You exhaled in disbelief at the mockery and your outrage alone was what nearly made Alfie laugh out loud.

“By bein’ a fuckin’ donkey, right,” he answered for you. “Yeah, well… Mostly. Some fuckin’ ‘s involved as well.”

You opened your mouth then closed it promptly.

“How…! How is it that you find it appropriate to talk to women in such a manner?!” You were a little louder now and Alfie’s eyes darted straight to Alice.

As soon as he saw she was still sleeping, though, he took one step closer towards you. You went silent at once and as he leaned in you felt your heart beat rapidly… Until Alfie blew out the candle on your desk. The room was then engulfed in pitch-black darkness and the only thing you could do at this point was to listen in to check if Alfie was even still there.

That is, if he wasn’t a phantom and all of this wasn’t just one Gothic novel before bed too many.

“I’ll have ya know, right,” Alfie said then, and even though he spoke quietly, his voice still rumbled like a thunder in the dark, “I don’t talk to no women that way, right. You’re the only one.”

“I…” You took a shaky breath.

“What?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I find you very strange, Mr. Solomons.”

“That so?”

“Yes. You…”

“Hm?”

“You are perhaps the strangest man I’ll ever know.”

He chuckled softly and you tried to look for him when you heard him move around the room. You couldn’t see him, but you could very well hear Alice stir in her sleep and complain, and then the door creaking behind them–though not before Alfie’s last final advice to you:

“Get some sleep, darlin’.”

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