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pacifymebby · 11 months

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t r o u b l e // Chapter Nine

A peaky blinders modern au balletcore story

Chapter List

Sonya

I felt like such a child fleeing from them like that but I couldn't stand to be in that room, having Tommy look at me with such disgust, such judgement the way that he was. I could feel the blame he placed on me then, as if he thought that the hit on Michael could be a direct result of something I'd told Freddie. But if Tommy had bothered to ask he'd know I hadn't told Freddie a thing about my family. That I'd been doing all I could to forget about my brothers whilst it seemed they had forgotten about me.

I burst through the study doors making the two lads who were loitering just outside jump with a start. I couldn't bare to look at them but I did because they'd startled me too and Id frozen like a rabbit in the headlights, my eyes full of tears, my view of them blurred. I covered my mouth with the back of my hand trying to stifle a sob, gasping with the hurt I couldn't contain, so humilated to have them witness my frankly tragic display. But I couldnt help it, I'd always been that kind of girl. The fragile one, the kind if girl who couldn't control her wild emotions, the kind of girl who's emotions controlled her.

I was shaking as I raised my other hand to my mouth, clutching the hand which already smothered my sobs, holding onto it tightly desperately.

For a second the three of us stood frozen, Isaiah watching me with a kind of familiarity, a pity in his eyes as they rested on my distraught flush. The glowing pain in my dark eyes as they darted between him and Bonnie. Bonnie watching me too, his expression hard to read, tranquil as ever and yet, the slightest tug on his brow, his eyes sorry too, something which looked like concern gathering like a shadow in his greenish eyes.

I stood there, frozen, chest rising and falling eratic and ragged. And then just like that I was gone. Like a doe fleeing the road. And fleeing was exactly what I was doing.

I ran down the hallway, feet light and quick on the stairs as I fled to the only place I thought I stood a chance and peace. The only place I really knew how to get to in that big house which my brothers kept calling home but which felt far from it to me.

I darted down through the door at the bottom of the stairs, under an archway and across a smaller room, the marble floor cool through my socks as I ran, barely skimming the floor. So light on my feet. Unaware that I was being followed because the lad ib pursuit was just as nimble as me.

When I slipped through that little door into the damp little tunnel which led out into the meadow, far across the grounds of the Shelby Mannor, I felt the damp from the cold stone floor soaking into my socks, felt the strange weight of the water soaking into the thick fluff. But I didnt care about the water, didn't care if I was ruining Sylvie's socks because my heart was pounding and aching in my chest and my mind was shaken with sorrow. With the hurt of those awful things Tommy had said to me.

Why the fucks he with you eh? What other reason could he have for getting so close to you?

Tommys cruel words played over and over in my head and every time I remembered the vitriol with which he'd slung them across the room at me another choked sob wracked through my body. By the time I reached the meadow and the lake I was breathless and I could barely manage to carry myself to the waters edge before I crumbled and collapsed in the grass, holding myself, legs in a w on the ground like a little girl, arms wrapped around my body, holding my shoulders as I bowed my head and sobbed my heart out on the floor. The tears relentless, my crying disturbing the peace and quiet. So dramatic, my grief ricochetting off the trunks of near by trees and bouncing back to me like a mirror.

I didn't realise I was breaking more than my own heart. That someone was watching me and the sight of me like that, so distraught, was making them think they might start crying too. At least I didn't until they sat themsleves down beside me in the grass, reached out carefully for one of my hands and let their fingers brush delicately over my trembling fingers.

"Y'know lass if you keep this up you're gonna have me cryin an all," said Bonnie softly, his eyes soft but still aglow with that teasing humour, his smile small but still cheeky as he withdrew his hand from mine. The gesture had only been intended to get my attention but as he sat back up and pulled away from me his eyes lingered on my fingertips and then on my sorry expression.

"Tommy make you follow me?" I sniffled wiping at my eyes with the palm of my hands, trying to hide myself behind them so that he couldn't see the mess I'd made of myself. I wasn't a pretty crier, my eyes went red too quickly, swollen and sore looking, my whole expression puffy and childish when the waterworks turned on.

"Nah lass," he said with half a lass, looking up and away from me then with that lingering amused half smile on his open mouth.

"Thats not true," I said still sniffling, wincing at the pain of trying to swallow down a more violent sob. Every now and then one snook up on me like a hiccup sharp and sudden so that it stung my throat and left me feeling bruised. "Tommys got you spying on me or somethin now right... Youre not allowed let me out your sight or something I don't know..." I trailed off, cut off ultimately by another embarrassing sob. But Bonnie only frowned, he seemed to be thinking carefully about what he said, seemed much more pensive than he had when we had first met earlier that morning.

"Its true that he asked me to protect you.." he said smirking at me and rolling his eyes as if me and him were in on some joke I'd forgotten, his smile almost drawing one from me. "But it ain't true thats the reason I followed you out here..."

Perhaps if I hadn't been feeling so sorry for myself I'd have matched his smirk with one of my own. As it happened however I just kept sniffling and sobbing, trying to catch my breath and hold it together, completely unable to control my emotions and my tears.

"Then why did you?" I asked a little confused as to why he was sitting down in the grass opposite me, one knee bent, his arms crossed over it as he watched me in all my heartbroken tradgedy.

"Cause," he shrugged, "You're cryin your eyes out lass, didn't want you contaminating me lake with all that salt water... S'bad for the ecosystem see.." he said with another smirk, his eyes sparkling with that gentle teasing. His smile growing with his confidence when I couldn't help but smile at his little joke, biting back a sob which shook my spine, blushing through the smile I tried to hide.

"Hmm," he said stroking his chin as he pretended to study me, "thats a small improvement but I'm still worried about them tears yknow..." he said with a little chuckle when I bit back a giggle that mixed with my crying and left me uncertain as to why exactly I was shaking.

"Sorry," I said then, trying to force a wider smile, remembering who I was, remembering that Shelby girls didn't reveal themselves like this, didn't let strangers know them to be vulnerable the way I was doing just then.

"Don't say sorry to me lass, its the Cattails you should be worryin about," he said still grinning, still trying to encourage a smile from me too as he shifted where he sat and wrapped his arms around his knees. He was watching me. Even when we fell into silence, just me sniffling and wiping at my tears, him sitting still and quiet, he carried on so that I felt studied, my skin prickling under his gaze. Struggling to ignore him.

"Why'd they all call yous Fen?" he asked after a minute or two of not quite awkward silence.

"What?" I frowned uncertain as to why he was trying to make conversation with me, why he was asking a thing like that instead of asking me what was wrong or why I insisted on being such an unpleasant snob around him. He had no reason to smile at me or talk to me this way, I'd given him no reason at all to be nice.

"The both of yous like, ain't it weird to be called the same thing like that?"

"Well I don't know they just always have since we were little like... Well not always I guess," I said pressing the ball of my palms to my eye sockets trying to gather the last of my tears though I knew they weren't really going to be the last.

"Must be funny being twins an havin to share everythin right down to your own name..."

"We don't share everything," I lied knowing he was almost right, since we were young we'd always shared most things, our clothes getting confused in the wash, our bed when we were still poor and living on watery lane, our dream of becoming a ballet dancer, so many rolls throughout school because the director enjoyed being able to swap us in and out from scene to scene. Enjoyed not having to worry that the understudy would change the aesthetic of their vision.

"Don't do that to your eyes darlin," he said then, reaching forward to me, taking my wrist in his hand and tugging it gently from my eye. If I'd put up a fight, even just a small protest, I was sure he'd have let go and left me to it. But I didn't because I knew he was right. "Just makes em more swollen, you need some cold water on em, draw the red out... I mean don't get me wrong, you don't need to do anythin," he said speaking quieter then, his own cheeks a pale shade of pink as he averted his gaze, chewed his cheek, all the arrogance I thought I'd recognised in him, all those Blinder traits vanished when he suddenly receded and mumbled, "y'still look dead pretty either way..."

I didn't know what to say to him then, my own smile kind of shy, kind of awkward as a blush blossomed on my cheeks too. This time when I sniffled I was smiling through the tears and I felt a little less like I was sitting stranded in the Birmingham countryside completely on my own.

"Its cause we got lost in the fens when we were little girls," I said, "we were still travelling then... y'know before our mam died... Think John was meant to be lookin after us and he lost us,"

"In the Fens?" Bonnies eyes lit up, his smile tickling his features, making me smile too. He'd probably been down that way many times before with his own family, probably knew those grassy marshes, the endless expanse of flat dry ground in the summer, so suddenly rich and dense, swampy with the first fall of rain, all the little becks and drainage streams trailing off into the wash. As a little girl those fields of long grass, with all its little creatures, all those miles to explore, had been such an adventure. Bonnie probably had similar memories. For all that shit I'd thrown at Tommy he was right, me and Bonnie would have lived similar lives up to the point of my mothers suicide.

"I don't remember it," I said, "but me an Fen didn't know we were lost, we were having a lovely time playin in the marshes," I said letting out another little laugh which Bonnie echoed. He held his shins with his hands as he leant in to listen to me and I realised that we both must have looked like to children sitting there in the grass. "By the time they found us again we were soaked to the bone and freezin, covered in mud and bits of pond weed stuff, came down with a nasty fever a few days later, mam was livid, I think John got into a lot of trouble for it..."

He grinned, chuckling away, telling me he remembered getting into similar trouble when he was a wain.

"Don't really remember me mam, but I remember the trouble me sisters used to get for letting me off on me own when we were out to play," and then as if a distant memory, one he'd almost forgotten, had just washed over him like a wave he laughed, his grin lingering as he looked up at the sky and then into the distance somewhere over my shoulder. "There was this one time actually, we were travelling along down the east coast of scotland, they let me off on me own at the beach, you know one of those lovelyns where the forest comes right down to the tide line... They let me off on me ones and I built a raft, tied all these bits of drift wood and branches together with kite string and then tried sailing it... I was half way out to see before anyone realised what I'd done and me dad had to swim out to get me cause.." he trailed off, his own amusement overtaking him for a moment, his eyes really bright when he laughed, "cause I couldn't fuckin swim," he said sniggering into his sleeve, his laugh making me laugh too, just as shyly, hiding my smile in the crook of my elbow as I tried to hide away. It felt strange that he could have changed my demenour so quickly, i didnt like that I appeared so easily moved then.

"Think my mam would have killed our John if me an Sylvie had ever done something like that," I said with a lingering smile trying to imagine him as a little boy, sailing out to sea. Bonnie just chuckled, this fond little smile lingering on his lips when he shrugged his shoulders.

"Aye," he smirked, "think she probably did half kill our Esme for it," he said, "fuckin stupid kid though I was, bet yous two never did anythin that daft..." he was blushing again, only slight, his eyes taking on that dark, pensive shadow again when he met my gaze. I was blushing too, I didn't know what to say to him. But the longer we lingered in that comfortable quiet, those small smiles on our lips, the worse I felt for the hostility I'd shown him all day. Because it wasn't him I'd been wanting to hurt with all my vitriol and childish remarks. It had been my brother. Probably everyone knew that except Bonnie.

"You know you don't have to stay out here waitin on me," I said quietly, picking at pieces of grass, snapping the thin green stems, looking down at my feet, "I know Tommys got you followin me round like I need babysittin an all but I'm fine out here on my own..." I said awkwardly.

Still Bonnie just leant back in the grass on his elbows, legs stretched out in front of him as he relaxed, laidback grin, his eyes scanning the sky, one dark curl falling across his forehead. He really did look out of place then in his jeans and that bright blue adidas jacket, the polo tshirt he wore tucked into his waistband a little baggy, a little too 80s to be hanging round the grounds of a country estate with a forlorn ballerina in her white tights and her sisters slipper socks.

"Don't take this the wrong way darlin but, you're still cryin... Don't really seem fine on your own to me..."

"Didn't my big brother warn you, I'm always crying," I said sulkily, making him chuckle with my pouted lip and still teary eyes, my lashes lined with tears that were waiting to fall.

"That true?" he asked still smiling, still looking at me from under his lashes like he already knew me. Like he wanted to know me better.

I bit back a shy little smirk.

"Uhuh... I know," i rolled my eyes, a little melodramatic, "I'm a real cliche..." but Bonnie just smirked and shook his head.

"Well thats the saddest thing I ever heard," he said with a small shrug, his eyes flickering over me again, meeting mine and holding my gaze until I couldn't hold his anymore, averting my eyes to my hands, wiping another tear on the back of my hands.

"Its not that sad," I said with a self concious shrug, receding into myself and away from him. I couldn't tell if he was flirting with me or not. It didn't feel like I was being charmed, didn't feel like he was using well practiced moves and lines to chip away at me. He wasn't exactly like any of the lads I was used to, the actors I'd gone to school with. Those competitive boys with famous surnames, old money parents who'd taught them exactly what to say and to who and when.

Everything Bonnie had said and done so far that morning had seemed so natural, a little clumsy a little shy, but natural. I didn't feel like he was acting, didn't feel like I needed to put on an act for him.

And yet I knew that this was exactly what made me the weak link in the family, the least Shelby of us all. It had hurt to hear Tommy say it outloud, for him to call me naive in front of Sylvie, within earshot of Bonnie and Isaiah, but it had hurt because it was true. Bonnie was proving that to me now because all he'd done was follow me outside, show me a little smile when I was crying, and there I was opening slowly like a shy flower in the evening sun. A little slither of dusk and I was looking at him with my most honest eyes.

"Its not sad," I said it again, sucking my cheek in and then cracking a self aware half smile, "If you cry over nothing and everything all the time no one can ever really tell when you're genuinely upset, maybe I'm just leaning into drama..."

"Yeah? What about now, are you leanin into drama or is this just now, genuine?"

I bit my lip, a little caught out because I'd been expecting my words to wash water off a ducks back the way that kind of talk usually did. Usually people rolled their eyes, called me aloof behind my back, told me I was 'mysterious' to my face. But Bonnie, despite his teasing smile, seemed to want a real answer. So I gave him one.

"I'm fine Bonnie Gold," I said my eyes meeting his, his name foreign on my tongue as my lips curved around the syllables for the first time, "Its just my brother see, I don't know if you know this about him but..." I trailed off, forcing a smile, one which probably looked far more sorry than it was supposed to when tears still gleamed in my eyes, "but he's a little bit of a cunt..."

He laughed then, a real laugh. I'd shocked him with my harsh words and he was, for a second, speechless.

His grin lingered as he looked away and when he looked back at me he was still laughing so that the longer it went on, his beaming smile poking dimples in his rosy cheeks, the more self concious I became, feeling my own cheeks heat up. An awkward smile on my lips.

"What?"

"Nothing, its nothing," he chuckled settling down though the grin still lingered and when he looked me up and down I got the feeling he was still trying to work me out. "Just don't sound right thats all, you sayin a word like that with your pretty little accent..."

My smile grew, awkward and shy. His green eyes still watched me but I couldn't bring myself to hold his gaze for very long.

"I don't have a pretty little accent," I frowned, "are you callin me a fuckin toff?" I narrowed my eyes at him, suddenly so aware of my annunciation. Cheeks burning, temper prickling though I couldn't wipe the smile off my face.

"Nah," he chuckled, "certainly don't sound like your brothers though do you lass..." he said giggling somewhat pleased with himself when my frown etched deeper into my brow and he realised that his teasing was really winding me up. "See if you don't wanna be around that cunt of a brother today..." he started, running his hand through his messy curls, turning away from me to look out at the grounds, "you could come to my place yknow, lay low stay out the way whilst they uh... Hash it all out?"

I chewed my cheek, looking at him a little uncertain. Tommy trusted him so I could trust him. And he was right, I didn't want to see my cunt of a brother again, not just for the rest of the day but for the rest of the week if at all possible.

"And why would you want to invite someone like me back to your place?" I asked still picking at grass stems, remebering again all those disparaging things I'd said about travellers to Tommy in front of Bonnie.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well what about all that shit I said earlier for a start..." i chewed my cheek looking guilty.

"Ohhh" he breathed pursing his lips together holding back his smile for a moment, "right yeah that... For a start lass you're pretty transparent and I know you didn't really mean any of em..." he said tilting his head looking at me from under dark lashes, his eyes dark and marbled and still so understanding, and then he smirked and shrugged his shoulders, "and for seconds, this just gives you more time to say you're sorry."

And with that he jumped up and held his hand out to help me, the wink he shot me leaving me speechless and burning with a blush.

#Trouble #peaky blinders imagines #Bonnie gold #Tommy shelby sister!#tommy shelby modern au #peaky blinders modern au #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons modern au #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders x oc

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whentommymetalfie · 5 months

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Update: Chapter 10 is up

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

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

Sequel to 'All for Nothing'

Pairings: Established Tommy/Luca, eventual Tommy/Alfie

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

#Tommy x alfie #peaky blinders fanfiction #Modern AU #tommy Shelby #alfie solomons #luca changretta #tommy x luca

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months

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

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

Words - 7,478

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Hanukkah-Mas, everyone!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ lies!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Alfie,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s it!”

Some things never changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mimi had taught her well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s kicking me, dad!”

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

“But dad!”

“Enough, my son!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How things had changed, and all for the better.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh!”

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

“Got time for a quickie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, how she did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfie never would either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That went for all five of them.

The End.

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons x ofc #modern alfie solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders au #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons #alfie and beth

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justrainandcoffee · 2 months

Text

2017

"Like the old days" Alfie had said.

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

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

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

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

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

Problems started the sixth day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alfie x Tommy masterlist.

#alfie solomons #tommy Shelby #moodboard #peaky blinders #modern au #tofie #Alfie x Tommy #sholomons #tommy x alfie #cillian murphy #tom hardy

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dreamlandcreations · 10 months

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The One That Got Away

modern gangster!Alfie Solomons x undercover cop!Reader

Summary: this prompt in this AU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not...your problem."

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #modern au #modern!alfie solomons #modern! au #🌎#⚡#🧸#look i've finished something #sort of #I am not sure where I wanted to go with this when I began almost a year ago and I think it shows 🙈#my stuff #my fics

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 years

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Incorrect Quotes - Peaky Blinders au (Part One)

Characters used: Alfie Solomons, Thomas Shelby. Plus Red (Female Reader)

(Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten )

(Divider by this person here )

Red: Hi. Alfie: Hey, did you do what I said? Did you tell him? Red: I did. Alfie: And what did he say? Red: “Thank you.” Alfie: You’re totally welcome. What’d he say? Red: He said, “Thank you.” I said “I love you” and Thomas said, “Thank you.”

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Thomas: Due to personal reasons, I will be fucking sinking to the bottom of the ocean in a large metal box. Alfie: Did Red say 'I love you' and you said 'Thanks'? Thomas: THE REASONS ARE PERSONAL–

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Red: Thank you all for coming. Thomas, wearing a hospital gown: When I heard you couldn't get laid, I dropped everything and came straight here. Red: Well, I couldn't imagine anyone else being part of the "Fuck A Task Force". Alfie: Yeah, I interpreted that in a different way.

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Red: Wait a minute, how did this happen? We're smarter than this! Thomas: Apparently, we're not.

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Thomas, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks. Red: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.

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Red: Thomas, I rebuke thee! I rebuke thee! Thomas: Rebuke? Is that a word? Red: You have all invoked my fury! You will all pay recompense for your transgressions! Thomas: What, you got like a word-a-day calendar or something?

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Thomas: Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this. Red: Maybe we would, if you would STOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!!

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Red: Thank you for not saying "I told you so." Thomas: When you’re as right as I am, you don’t have to say it.

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Thomas: I am an expert at identifying birds. Red: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Thomas: Yeah, they're all birds.

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Red, dramatically: They called me a fool. Thomas, sick of Red's shit: They weren’t wrong.

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Thomas, texting Red: I’m a theif. Red: Thief. Thomas: Theif. Red: I before E except after C. Thomas: Thceif. Red: NO.

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Thomas: You know, when I first met you I thought you were a real bitch. Red: What changed your mind? Thomas: Oh, I still think you're a bitch. I've just grown to like that about you.

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Red: If it pleases the court I would like to say that my opponent is TALKING SHIT! Thomas: ...

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Red: Just be yourself. Say something nice. Thomas: Which one? I can't do both.

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Red: Thomas, fuck off. Red: And by "fuck off" I mean "fuck off right back here and listen", you insufferable prick.

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Thomas: *is visibly upset* Red: Thomas, what happened? I haven't seen you like this since you found out Candyland wasn't an actual country.

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Thomas: You’ve got to learn to love yourself. Red: But don't you hate yourself. Thomas: Yeah, but this is about you. Stay focused.

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Red: Can I have some? Thomas, mouth full of cheesecake: It's really spicy, you wouldn't like it.

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Thomas: Red... you've been cuddling with me for over an hour now. Red: *muffled* mm hmmm :) Thomas: Fuck. I should be annoyed but you're adorable.

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Thomas: Uptown Funk would've made it into the Shrek Soundtrack. Red: That's the truest statement I've ever heard.

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Thomas: I've met a lot of pricks in my time, but you, Red, are a fucking cactus.

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Red: Hey Thomas, can you give me the opposite of these words? Red: Always, Coming, From, Take, Me, Down. Thomas: Never, Going, To, Give, You- Thomas: The fucking satisfaction.

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Thomas: What happened?! Red: Do you want the long version or the short version? Thomas: Sh-short?? Red: Shit's fucked. Thomas: Okay, long. Red: Shit's very fucked.

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Red: Hey, Thomas. What kind of flowers do you prefer? Thomas: I like sunflowers. Red, pulling out a bouquet of Venus Flytraps: Well, shit-

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Thomas: If I had a face like yours, I'd put it on a wall and throw a brick at it. Red: If I had a face like YOURS, I'd put it on a brick and throw a wall at it.

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Thomas: The saying “it is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission” no longer applies to Red.

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Red: Thomas, you love me, right? Thomas: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

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Thomas: What happened to your nose? Red: I used it to break some guy's fist.

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Thomas: Hey. Red: Hey? Thomas: I can't sleep. :/ Red: I can. Goodnight

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Thomas: Hold on, I can explain! Red: Really? Can you now? Thomas: I can if you give me a minute to think of a convincing lie.

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Thomas, after getting a job as a life guard: Hmm... I wonder what those things at the bottom of the pool are.. Red: THOSE ARE PEOPLE DROWNING!

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Thomas: *fast-forwards all the way through the movie* Red: You can't just skip to the happy ending! Thomas: I don't have time for their problems.

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Red: Why are you always trying to aggravate me? Thomas: To relax.

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Thomas: FUCK THE CHAIR. PARDON ME FOR MAKING MYSELF COMFORTABLE DURING A SINCERE HEART TO HEART DISCUSSION WITH A DEAR FRIEND IN NEED! Thomas: BUT THE TIME HAS COME FOR ME TO CEASE STRADDLING THIS DEEPLY OFFENSIVE PIECE OF FURNITURE! AWAY WITH YE, FOUR LEGGED TEMPTRESS! DISTRACT US NO MORE WITH THE MOST BASIC AND UTILITARIAN FORM OF COMFORT YOU SUPPLY! Red: Thomas just threw a tantrum about a chair. Red: I just won Thomas Tantrum Bingo.

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Thomas: My life is a mess. Red: Thomas relax, go get a beer. Thomas: I don’t want a beer. Red Who said it was for you?

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Thomas: A decision had to be made. Red: And you fucked it up!

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Thomas: Though I admit I don’t know much about you, I am feeling pretty confident in my assessment that you are probably some sort of sick deadly fuck. Red: Who told you my secret?

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Thomas: You’re mean! Red: You’re meaner! Thomas: Yeah, well, you’re ugly too! Red: You’re uglier! Thomas: You’re a dumbass! Red: You’re a dumberass! Thomas: You think “dumberass” is a good insult!

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Thomas: Please say words of encouragement to me so I don’t murder someone right now. Red: There are no books in prison. Thomas: *sighs* Thank you.

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Thomas: Are you drinking enough water? Red: Sometimes my tears get in my mouth.

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Red: Thomas, you need to react when people cry! Thomas: I did. I rolled my eyes.

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Thomas: I think this might be a bad idea... Red: Don't start thinking on me now!

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Red: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it. Thomas: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out. Red: Th-that's not how that works-

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jackson--t · 2 years

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Teaser

Modern AU, Tommy x Alfie, Oneshot.

"You don't even know who you're dealing with," Alfie hissed darkly, never taking his eyes off those blue eyes. Those bright eyes had stared at him, deep sea blue, like the storm of the sea in dark night. Perhaps it looked brighter by day. When the sun bathed the blue in light, and might illuminate the young man's gaze as well.

Alfie pointed the gun against the man's temple, the fingers of his free hand pressed like a vise around the soft contour of his throat. He swallowed, Alfie felt it keenly, felt the pressure of his larynx against the roughness of his fingers. Squeezing, choking, teasing - images flashed through his mind. Hard pressure, blue eyes rolling back, a low moan. Alfie shook his head, pressed the gun harder against his temple. The young man held still, and except for swallowing, he showed no reaction. A tough dog, apparently.

"Not my son," he said then, and Alfie grunted.

"You insured your son for more than two million pounds. Of course I want your fuckin' son."

The young man laughed quietly. Alfie increased the pressure of his hand, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh hard enough that the young man chortled. Tommy was his name, Alfie knew.

"I've got far higher insurance."

"Is that so, huh?"

"Yeah."

"And why the fuck should I believe you, huh?"

Silence, another swallow, more perverse images in Alfie's mind of tight pressure on that damn throat, the twitching of the body underneath him, lack of air. Arousal from air staying away.

"Because there are people who pay a high price for me, you'll see."

Alfie snorted. "Alive?"

The larynx under his fingertips moved again.

"Yeah, alive."

#tommy x alfie #peaky blinders #tofie #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #modern au #moodboard #teaser

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potter-solomons · 2 years

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Cause I feel like killing you today...

@darklydeliciousdesires 🔪😈

#tom hardy #facepuller #alfie solomons #modern! au #modern Alfie #alfie #Alfie bear #teddy bear solomons

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stilldreamland · 2 years

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Alfie Solomons x Reader AU

#moodboard #moodboards #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons moodboard #aesthetic #alternate universe #oceans thirteen au #modern au

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pacifymebby · 11 months

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t r o u b l e / Chapter Ten

a peaky blinders Modern AU balletcore story?

Chapter List

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

John

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🔪🦢

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#peaky blinders imagines #Trouble #tommy shelby modern au #peaky blinders modern au #peaky blinders x sister!reader #peaky blinders x oc #Alfie solomons x oc #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine

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inkwolvesandcoffee · 9 months

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Breakfast in Margate (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Modern AU

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: A grumpy Papa Solomons (yes, that is a warning) and a whole lot of tooth-rotting domestic fluff

Summary:

Mornings aren’t always easy. For example, it’s terribly difficult to not be caught making breakfast for your fiancé, a workaholic who always takes the task upon himself.

However, what makes it harder today is the fact he loathes food made with recipes found online. Fortunately for you, though, Alfie isn’t the only one who’s good at playing games when he wants to push his own agenda.

Especially those that concern a sweet reward.

Author’s note: I've kept Alfie's adherence to his Jewish heritage quite loose. Nevertheless, I hope that the aspects I did incorporate in this work have been done so properly. If not, let me know and please don't hesitate to educate me (in a polite and respectful manner) because I love learning about different cultures and religions.

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

TH Masterlist

Mornings like this are rare, these quiet moments unbroken by the usual ruckus in the kitchen. Now, it’s solely my bare feet on the wooden floor and the waves crashing onto the shore. No clanging of metal, no muttered curses in Yiddish or Russian, nor the scent of freshly brewed coffee.

In the living room, Cyril lays in front of the hearth. The first rays of sunshine fall over him like a warm natural blanket, highlighting the ginger undertone in his fur. One of the many features he shares with his owner.

As soon as I pass by, he lifts his head, tilts it in wonder, and lets out a low bark. After all, it’s Alfie who’s more often than not the first one to wander around the house at the crack of dawn. That is, if he’s slept at all. However, recently he’s started properly adhering to the Shabbat. Although, as much as he allows himself to because if Alfie Solomons is one thing, it’s mighty stubborn. Moreover, he’s an incurable workaholic. As hard as he works at The Old Rum House Bakery to let the business flourish and maintain his position as the fearsome Mad Baker of Camden, just as much effort does he put into our relationship. In fact, it’s not only towards Cyril and I his attention goes, but also to the house.

Our home.

Alfie has become a lot more domestic since we started dating, shortly after meeting one another on a train to London. Disregarding his tendency to walk around naked, he cooks and cleans, assuring me time and again I don’t have to help. When we go out for our weekly grocery trip, no matter how tired he is, he carries the bags to the car so that I don’t have to. Neither do I have to put away what we got, more often than not shipped off to the luxurious red sofa in the living room with a cup of coffee or tea to pair with whatever he’s baked at night.

Nevertheless, regardless of the otherwise very loose relationship with his heritage, Ollie and I are glad he’s at least taking a day off in the week to rest up. The bakery has recently started taking its toll thanks to an influx in customers, which means extra stock as well as staff is needed. In turn, this means more part-timers to train and more admin work. In other words, everyone has to pick up the pace to meet the current demand. Such is the power of marketing, especially on social media. Alfie is loath to admit it, but Ollie and I can tell he’s secretly grateful we managed to convince him to let us handle the bakery’s socials.

We don’t get cinnamon buns on Monday anymore, though.

I stop in my tracks, turn to Cyril, and put a finger to my lips. “I know, love, but Papa is still sleeping. It’s finally Mama’s turn to make breakfast again.”

Seldom do I get the chance to experiment in the kitchen, let alone try a recipe I’ve found online. Or worse, via Youtube or Instagram. Now, that’s usually enough to make Alfie bristle. Nevertheless, mention the word ‘viral’ and a scowl will twist his lips.

Sometimes I wonder whether or not Alfie and Cyril are the same person because he lowers his head onto his paws and lets out a deep sigh that sounds like sarcastic resignation.

Thanks for the faith, buddy.

“It’s gonna be okay. No fire in the pan this time, I promise. How about we go stretch our legs after brekkie, hm? That sound good?”

Cyril huffs in agreement and closes his eyes, back to enjoying his luxurious pillow.

We bought it for him when we went antique shop hopping in London last week. Although, perhaps it’s better to say I bought it after convincing my grumpy companion we should occasionally pamper our adopted four-legged child and I couldn’t fix his old pillow anymore. Of course I could, but I was more than done with constantly needing to fix the seams and re-stuff the thing.

Borough Market has become a regular stop on our weekly grocery trip, mostly because I used the splendidly efficient strategy of batting my lashes and pouting. Artisan goods and fresh produce can be luxuries, something to only occasionally splurge on. After all, why spend a fortune when there is a cheaper alternative that’s just as good?

Nonetheless, Alfie developed a taste for supporting local businesses soon after our first visit. To some he has proposed contracts, offering them a position as a supplier to his bakery. Granted their goods are kosher, of course.

Yesterday, we got some wonderful fresh bright yellow bananas, eggs from a local farm, and oat flour from a mill a little ways away from London. Alfie thought little of it when I plonked them triumphantly in our grocery bag, having occupied himself with the fresh stock one of the florists was setting out. I glance at the colourful bouquet of wildflowers on the table and for a moment I’m back to him holding out to me, face full of the warm tenderness that stands in stark contrast to the stern and unpredictable persona he portrays when I’m not there.

Right then and there, he wasn’t The Mad Baker of Camden, the fearsome King who rules the borough.

He was a sweet and caring gentleman.

Simply Alfie Solomons.

Nevertheless, in spite of these small moments of tenderness, he can still be awfully grumpy.

Especially if he hasn’t had his coffee.

“Mornin’, dove.” Two big warm hands glide over my hips towards my lower stomach. Those very same palms pull me flush against a naked chest grown soft with neglected muscle, slightly clammy with the remainder of last night’s late summer heat. Alfie presses his lips to the side of my neck and hums, tightening the embrace as he does so. The sonorous trill in his voice sends a shiver down my spine and rekindles a familiar heat. Nonetheless, the way he leans on me betrays he isn’t entirely awake yet. The slight slur in his words serve to confirm the lingering drowsiness, sounding like they’ve been pulled out of bed only moments before too. “That shirt looks good on you.”

“I’m glad you think so because you’re not getting it back any time soon.” I briefly stop mixing the batter to scratch his beard. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch as a content sigh escapes him. “You slept in.”

“Still woke up to an empty spot, though. If you want me to sleep more, yeah, which you know I find a terrible waste of time, I’ll need my wife to ‘old.”

I pat his hands to placate him. The thin gold band inlaid with a modest diamond around my ring finger matches his. I had thought Alfie would pick something elaborate for himself, but instead he chose a simple thick gold ring and got it engraved. It says: Ani l’dodi, v’dodi li; I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. “Don’t get hasty. We aren’t married yet.”

“Let’s just go to the courthouse today.’’ He slips his hands beneath the fabric of the shirt I stole from him, letting them rest on my stomach after a brief caress. It’s a gesture he often makes nowadays. ‘‘Sign the paper, right, and be done with it so the desk eaters are ‘appy. We can always celebrate it later. Throw a party as big as the whole of bloody Camden, like a proper coronation ceremony to celebrate our union.”

“Tempting as it is, I’ll have to refuse. Besides, it's Shabbat today and you need to take a break. I promise I can wait a little while longer to officially become Mrs Solomons.”

“You ‘ave been from the start, Y/N. I don’t need a ring to call you my wife. ‘Sides, you well know ‘ow I am. Which reminds me, breakfast is my job, innit?” A wary tone creeps into his voice as he leans away to check what’s in the mixing bowl. “Is that edible?”

“It will be,” I say, continuing to mix the ingredients until they’re well combined.

“I’m not eatin’ that goo. Looks fucking awful, that stuff.”

“It’s healthy goo! Uses the bananas, eggs, and flour we got yesterday.”

Nose scrunched, Alfie peers at me. “Oh, so yesterday was all a little scam to get me to eat whatever this is?”

“You aren’t the only one who can lie. Although, it’s not really a lie, is it? More like a half-truth.’’ I shrug. ‘‘I simply never told you my plan. Would ruin the surprise.”

“Which is?”

“Baked oats that taste like cake. They just haven’t been baked yet.”

“Where’d you get the recipe?”

“YouTube…”

He groans, wide awake now that the conversation has taken a turn towards a point of absolute irritation. “Fucking ‘ell, dove, ‘ow many times ‘aven’t I told you not every recipe on social media-’’

“Don’t judge before you’ve tried it.” I put the spatula down, turn around in his embrace and steal a kiss off of his lips. “Said so yourself, didn’t you?”

“Don’t use my words against me.”

“Oh, I will. If only to keep things fair. Have a little faith in me. It’ll be fine.”

I hope.

A warning finger raised and pointed at me, he leans in until our faces are mere inches apart. “Fine. But I’m gonna make us coffee, right, so we’ll at least ‘ave something to get us fucking started.”

I can’t suppress a chuckle at the grumpy gesture. “Sure.”

The threat turns into tenderness when he cups my cheek. His palm has grown rough with the hours spent at the bakery, proof of his hard work. Tenderly, he presses his lips to mine. “Ikh hab dir lib.”

“I know.” To show I accept his usual indirect apology for his bad mood and avoid coming across as being cross with me, I run my fingers along his jaw. “I love you too.”

Resting his forehead against mine, he nudges my nose with his. “Mhm.”

“Why don’t you take Cyril for a brief walk, eh? The oats have to bake for twenty-five minutes anyway.”

“We can take ‘im on a walk later together. I’ll go set the table.”

“First put on a pair of knickers.”

“No.”

“You know the rules, Alfie. No buns on the chairs during summer.”

“I ain’t sweating.”

“Not yet.”

“Maybe you’re the one who isn’t.”

I cock an eyebrow, fighting the smug smirk threatening to break out. “That so?”

“Yeah,” he drawls, “first we’ll ‘ave coffee, right, ‘cause otherwise neither of us functions. Now, ‘ow about after we’ve started the day proper I’ll fuck you like last night, hm?”

Until I black out.

The prospect of it mixes with memories of last night. Sea blue eyes, usually so steady and full of hidden temperaments, barely able to refrain from going cross-eyed. The fight with the stutter in his hips, gradually growing closer to the edge of pleasure but also exhaustion. Big hands reminiscent of wolf paws gripping the headboard for support while I was already lost in a satisfied delirium. The absent-minded glance to the bruises on my thighs adds to the steadily growing heat between my legs, perversely longing for more.

For him.

Nevertheless, the haze clears in an instant with a single sharp thought. I take a step back, crossing my arms as I search his expression for confirmation. However, as usually is the case, Alfie keeps his true motifs to himself. And this time, behind a mask he tends to put on when he wants something from me in particular. “So you can make breakfast. That’s what you’re getting at, aren’t you?”

“No,” he purrs, stealing a kiss as soon as he has bridged the distance between us, “not at all, dove. I just want my wife. I wanna make love to you.” We softly start to sway, slowly making our way out of the kitchen. “Let me make love to you.”

We come to a halt on the threshold. “Later. After you put on a pair of knickers and we’ve eaten.”

He blinks, the cheeky smile grown stiff. I can feel his muscles tense, unconsciously causing him to grip me a bit tighter than before. “But-’’

“Knickers, Alfie.”

“One round.”

“Alfred Solomons Jr, knickers. Right now.”

The use of his full name provokes a menacing snarl, the kind which is usually preserved for those who cross him. “Those oats better be fucking worth it, yeah, ‘cause otherwise you’re payin’ for lunch.”

I trace his cock, the skin hot and hardening beneath my fingertips with every sharp intake of breath. Perhaps this game won’t go on for as long as it usually does before he loses control. “Somehow I don’t think I will.”

He roughly grips my face, the thrill of every low-voiced word against my lips travelling throughout my body. “I ought to do somethin’ ‘bout that attitude of yours. Big fucks small, Y/N, always.”

Game over.

Except for the one card I have left to play.

“I know,” I wrap my hand around him, barely able to grip him properly, “but first some knickers. Please, Papa?”

“Clever bird, ain’t ya?” He growls into the kiss when I lightly squeeze him and let go. “Maybe I should carry out my own personal form of stigmata later. Add to those pretty bruises.”

Like snow in the spring sun, his attitude melts and changes. Alfie gently nudges my cheek and makes for the bedroom. A few moments later, he returns and starts setting the table while I pour the batter in the ramekins and plop them in the oven.

Despite the promise to make coffee, I reach for the cupboard to grab a mug. After all, old habits die hard.

Nevertheless, I find myself cut off by a hand that gently lowers mine, away from the handle.

“I said I’ll make us coffee,” Alfie grumbles. “Let Papa Solomons do ‘is job, yeah. Go sit in the livin’ room. I’ll be there shortly.”

I nod at the baking aftermath in the sink. “I got some washing up to do.”

“Nah, that can wait. Coffee and, ‘opefully, food first.” He places his hands on my shoulders and kindly coerces me out of the kitchen. “Go on.”

I let him guide me, feigning defiance by pouting. Yet, the act quickly falls apart with a lighthearted giggle. I suppose I still have a lot to learn from him concerning the art of masks. “Alright.”

Soon after he joins me on the porch, where I’ve settled down with Cyril to enjoy the salt air. The beach across the street is still empty, devoid of the plethora of towels. The breeze is silent, not yet filled with the chatter of tourists and locals alike.

These hours are ours.

This is our Margate.

“'Ere you go, love.” Alfie hands me a steaming mug of cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso, the milk soft and foamy, before he sits down next to me. I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes as I take a sip. “Nice, innit?”

“Mhm.”

Thus we sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and each other’s company. Cyril has started to doze off, although he tries in vain to keep his eyes open. One glance to the side tells of Alfie fighting the same battle. Occasionally he pulls a face or lifts his hand to stifle a yawn. It’s strangely funny to watch him continue to take a sip afterwards, a small gesture of hope. Surely he should be readily awake before his cup is empty.

Because sleeping isn’t an option.

He’s tired of the nightmares.

The faint sound of the oven going off disturbs the domestic bliss.

Alfie groans as struggles to get up, glad to have my arm to use as support while he pulls himself to his feet. I say nothing, knowing full well how his sciatica influences his mood.

And it’s already rotten enough in the morning.

As Alfie washes his hands, I get the baked oats out of the oven and place them on the plates. Meanwhile, Alfie warms up a few slices of babka and the challah bread we made together yesterday. “Just so we ‘ave somethin’.”

He sits down while I wash my hands. From the corner of my eye, I see him poke the oats with his fork. “It’s kosher?”

“It is,” I say, drying my hands before I sit down across from him. “Shall I go first?”

“Very funny.” He scoops a bit of the oats onto his fork and puts it in his mouth. His brows knit together, contemplating the taste.

“And? Do you like it?”

Remaining silent and gaze fixed on the ramekin, he pokes his oats again.

I swallow hard, my excitement crushed under the stones of dread. A nagging voice in the back of my head feeds into the fear of his judgement. Funny how one connects their self worth to food. Then again, it was that which started our relationship. A cup of coffee, a slice of babka, and a slice of plant-based carrot cake. Back then, though, my stomach didn’t quiver this badly nor did my ribs feel like they were caged in a very tight-strung corset. “You don’t.”

“Dove,” he begins, but doesn’t continue.

Not until after he’s had another bite. “It’s good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or simply trying to appease me.”

“I’m serious.”

“You are?”

“I am,’’ he says, raising his voice ever so slightly in spite of the effort to keep it even. Alfie finally meets my gaze and I can tell he’s being sincere regardless of the way he accusingly waves his fork at me. ‘‘But I still don’t like 'ow you got this off of the internet. ‘Ow many times ‘aven’t I told you, hm? You should know better by now.”

I chuckle as I at last taste the baked oats myself. They’re chocolatey with a subtle banana undertone, which is warmed by the cinnamon. “I gotta find new recipes somehow.”

“There are cookbooks.”

“Too limited and they take up too much space.” While nibbling on a piece of challah bread, I take a sip of coffee. “Can I make this more often?”

“It does taste like cake,” he reluctantly admits, spooning up another bite. “Yes, you can.”

“Why do you make it sound like there’s a condition?”

“You can make these oats, yeah, if I get to serve you something sweet in return.”

Something not to be had in the kitchen.

‘‘Deal,’’ I lean in, biting my lip as I play my final card, ‘‘Papa.’’

Alfie clenches his fork upon hearing his favourite nickname, the title he is secretly proud of. A dark haze clouds his eyes, the gloss in them highlighted by the morning sun. The smirk on his lips has evened out, his jaw tightened with the effort to practise self-restraint.

Game over.

I won.

And the prize is something sweet with lots of cream.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons x reader

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darklydeliciousdesires · 10 months

Text

Not One of Many Masterlist

Series’ cast of characters (Face claims)

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight & Epilogue

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons fic #modern alfie solomons #alfie solomons x ofc #tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy smut #tom hardy x ofc #tom hardy fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders au

108 notes · View notes

justrainandcoffee · 3 months

Text

When Alfie learnt that Tommy had a tortoise named Roy as pet, the torture began, testing his partner's patience.

From "there's a burger walking in the living room" to "that rock is moving."

And nothing is going to stop him. Only, maybe, the friendship between his dog and Roy.

Tofie masterlist

#alfie solomons #tommy shelby #moodboard #tofie #alfie x tommy #tommy x alfie #sholomons #tom hardy #cilliam murphy #modern au

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dreamlandcreations · 1 year

Text

Men (modern AU)

Tommy Shelby x Reader x Alfie Solomons

• moodboards masterlist •

Dating Tommy Shelby certainly makes life interesting, you can never prepare yourself for the next surprise. Sometimes you forget you’ve only met him a few months ago but standing in his home, ready to move in, youare about to be reminded how little you know him.

“What was that?” You ask, referring to the noise from upstairs.

“Alfie.” A tired sigh follows his irritated answer, rolling his eyes at the ceiling.

Your mind runs around with countless questions but you can only manage to ask one. “You have a roommate?”

“Nah, don’t mind him. He’s just my husband.”

“Your what?!”

• moodboards masterlist •

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ryuzakemo128 · 2 years

Text

Peaky Blinders Incorrect Quotes (Part Three)

(Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten)

(Divider by this person here)

Thomas Shelby: You’re not jealous, are you? Red: No! Thomas Shelby: Good, ‘cause I consider my fake relationship with you a lot more meaningful.

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Red: I think I just figured something out. I got to go. Thomas Shelby: Aren't you forgetting something? Red: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Thomas Shelby's forehead before running out.* Thomas Shelby: No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

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Red: Hey, random question, what are your favorite flowers? Thomas Shelby: Peonies, why? Red:

Thomas Shelby: Were you going to get me flowers? Red:

Thomas Shelby:

Red: ᶦᵗ’ˢ ᵃ ᵖᵒˢˢᶦᵇᶦˡᶦᵗʸ

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*Thomas Shelby and Red are in Paris.* Thomas Shelby: I'm...moved. I...I don't know what it is I'm feeling right now. I feel...destiny? Red: But... Thomas Shelby: I don't know what it is. I feel like... I just never thought I'd see it with my own two eyes. And here it is. It's just there. It's right in front of me, and... Red: This is what you wanted to see? The bridge from Inception? Thomas Shelby: Yeah. Red: But the Eiffel Tower is behind us, babe. Thomas Shelby: Yeah, but this is the bridge FROM INCEPTION. Red: Okay, alright.

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Thomas Shelby: Why don’t you go talk to them? Red, sarcastically: Oh. Yeah, sure. Thomas Shelby: What? So you go tell them they’re cute, what’s the worst that could happen? Red: They could hear me.

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Red: Can you cut me some slack, Thomas Shelby? I’m sort of in love. Thomas Shelby: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem. Red: I’m in love with you. Thomas Shelby: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

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Thomas Shelby: That was so hot, Red. Red: I literally called the person who just flirted with you a degenerate dog and told them I hope they get dragged through the streets. Thomas Shelby: I'm so in love with you.

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Thomas Shelby: How much did you spend on this date? Red: $1400. But all of it's on credit cards, so it's like $5 a month for the next 2,000 years.

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Thomas Shelby: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine. Red: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again. Thomas Shelby: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns?? Red: Is it working?

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Thomas Shelby: Remember, Red, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Red: I think I crossed that line when I got a date.

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Red: I don't know how to tell you this, but... I love you. Thomas Shelby: That's great, Red. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.

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Red: Come to dinner tonight. I can’t cook, but I’ll bring plenty of free wine. Thomas Shelby: Marry me.

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Red: You have to apologize to them Thomas Shelby. Thomas Shelby: Fine! But I must warn you that this might make me a better, nicer person and that is NOT the person you fell in love with!

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Red: Hey, Thomas, what do you think it would be like if we had kids? Thomas: What would it be like? Inconvenient, mostly. Red: No, I mean, what would they be like, the kids? You ever think about it? Thomas: Can't really say I have. Red: You know, for someone as eccentric as yourself, you can be boring as fuck sometimes. Thomas: Sorry, Red. For what it's worth, I'm picturing them now. A boy and a girl. Two perfect little freaks of nature raised by people who've clearly got no business bringin' up anybody.

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Thomas: Red is playing hard to get. Thomas: Little do they know, I'm a master at playing hard to get rid of.

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Thomas: I’ve been dropping them the most insanely obvious hints for like a year now. No response. Red: Wow. They sound stupid. Thomas: But they’re not. They’re really smart actually. Just dense. Red: Maybe you need to be more obvious? Like, I don’t know… “Hey! I love you!” Thomas: I guess you’re right. Hey Red, I love you. Red: See! Just say that! Thomas: Holy fucking shit. Red: If that flies over their head then, sorry Thomas, but they're too dumb for you. Thomas: Red.

———————————————————————————–

Thomas: There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right? Red: Nope, there's 26. Thomas: Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T. Red: Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one. Thomas: You'll get the D later ;).

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Thomas: I owe you one. Red: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

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Thomas: Talk dirty to me, baby~ Red: The dishes. Thomas: Wh- Red: They’ve been there for 4 days and it’s your turn to wash them. You still haven’t cleaned them and I have asked you to do so several times.

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Thomas: Are you ready to commit? Red: Like, a crime or a relationship?

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Red: I feel like doing something stupid. Thomas: I’m stupid, do me.

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Thomas: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl. Red: Okay. Thomas: And make out during the scary parts. Red: Th- Red: The scary parts. Red: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

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Red: Go fuck yourself. Thomas, smugly: Sure, but only if you watch

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Thomas: This date is boring! Red: This isn't a date. I said I was going to the store. Thomas: Then why did you invite me? Red: I didn’t, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you Red I'll do whatever I want!

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Red: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this... Thomas: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card? Red: Holy moly-

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Thomas: So... what would you do if you were in bed with me? Red: Depends. Is your bed comfortable? Thomas: Yes. Red: I'd sleep.

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*Red is crying after a breakup* Thomas: There there, Red. Red, still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room? Thomas: Great question—

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Thomas: The stars are so beautiful... Red: They're just giant balls of gas. Thomas: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then- Red: And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you. Thomas: Oh...

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Red: Thomas, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right? Thomas, naked in Red's bed: No, I absolutely do not. Red, already taking off their clothes: Fuck... Me neither.

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Thomas: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles. Red: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one? Thomas: Seize the dick.

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Red: I’m proud to identify as morosexual. I’m attracted to dumbasses and dumbasses exclusively. Someone asked me what the Spanish word for "tortilla" was once, and now I dream of kissing them under the moonlight. Thomas Shelby: What kind of animal is the Pink Panther? Red, already taking off their clothes: God, Thomas Shelby, you’re so fucking stupid.

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Red: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy. Thomas: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep. Red: I said within reason, Thomas. How about I murder that guy? Thomas: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't? Red: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

———————————————————————————–

Red: Can you cut me some slack, Thomas? I’m sort of in love. Thomas: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem. Red: I’m in love with you. Thomas: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

———————————————————————————–

Thomas: Just a minute. I need to go take out the trash. Red: Oh. We're going out? Thomas: Wh...

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Red: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one.

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Thomas: Pros and cons of dating me. Thomas: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Thomas: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

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Thomas: I would never say that my partner is a bitch and I don’t don’t like them. That’s not true… My partner is a bitch and I like them so much!

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Alfie: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon? Red: We're chopsticks! Alfie: Well... that's cute! Alfie: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly? Thomas: No, it means that if you take the other away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.

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Thomas: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me. Red: But they said not to touch the masterpieces. Thomas: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall. Alfie, on a walkie talkie: This is Alfie, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

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Thomas: How do you know how to kiss? Like who teaches you? Red: Well it’s actually a class, but unfortunately it’s full right now. Red: Would you like me to tutor you? Alfie: That was smooth.

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Red, looking through their clothes: Has anyone seen my top? Alfie: Thomas's in the kitchen

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Alfie: So, are you two dating now? Thomas & Red: Yes. Alfie: Why? Thomas: I happen to find Red very appealing. Alfie: Yeah, I can understand that. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with Red.

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Alfie: So… I’ve seen you’ve been spending a lot of time with Red recently. Thomas: No, Alfie, it's not what it looks like, I swear. Alfie: Oh really? So no reason for me to be jealous? Thomas: No! You’re the only one for me. Alfie: Is that so? Thomas: I promise! Red and I are just dating, okay? They’re my partner. Alfie: So there are no best-friends-feelings involved? Thomas: You are still my one and only best friend! They’re just the love of my life, nothing more! Alfie: But I’m still the platonic love of your life, right? Thomas: Of course bro! Alfie: Bro... Red: What the-

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Alfie: So are you gonna explain how the hell you crashed my car? Thomas: Well we were driving and there was a deer in the road, so I said "Red, deer!" Alfie: ...And what did Red do? Thomas: ...They said "Yes, Honey?"

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Thomas, holding a rock: Red just gave this to me and said "I feel like you deserve the moon but all I can give you is a rock". Alfie: If you don't marry them, I will.

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Alfie: Do you mind if I slyly mention that you’re single? Thomas: Do not do that. Alfie: You won’t even notice! Red, entering: Alfie, you wanted to see me again? Alfie: Thomas's single Thomas:

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Red: Why do you let me win when we race up the stairs? You’re the faster one. Thomas: Erm... it’s nice see your smile when you win! *later* Red: They're probably just staring at my ass, aren't they. Alfie: Yeah, probably.

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Alfie: H-how do you ask someone out? Red: Well, first- Thomas: Don't ask them, they asked me out in a McDonalds parking lot. Alfie: …And you said yes?

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Thomas: *yawns* Red: Yeah, being that pretty must be tiring. Thomas: Then you must be exhuasted. Alfie: Will you two shut up? Some of us are lonely.

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Red: Is there a cactus where your heart should be? Alfie: What’s up your ass this morning! Thomas: *walks in* …Hey. Alfie: Hmm… nevermind. Red: WAIT NO!

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Alfie: Who do we know that has handcuffs? Thomas: Well Red and I- Red: *elbows Thomas* Thomas: …wouldn't know.

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Alfie, bursting into the room: You two are having sex! Thomas, not looking up from their book: Really? Red, why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.

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Alfie: This totally sucks, man. Red: This is horrible. Alfie: Yeah, I know, I mean look at today’s news. Red: No, it’s not that, it’s Thomas. Red: It’s just like, I can’t get them out of my head and every time I look at them I have this pains in my chest, and I just know it’s their fault, that bitch!

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Thomas: That's ridiculous, Red doesn't have a crush on me. Aberama: Yes they do. Alfie: Yes they do. Red: Yes I do.

#Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinder #Peaky Blinder Incorrect Quotes #Peaky Blinder au #Modern Peaky Blinders Incorrect Quotes #Modern Peaky Blinders #Modern Peaky Blinder #Peaky Blinders Modern au #Alfie Solomons #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader #Thomas Shelby x Fem! Reader #Tommy Shelby x Female Reader #Thomas Shelby x Female Reader #Peaky Blinders x Female Reader #Red (Female Reader)

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