#Alfie SOlomons AU

[darklydeliciousdesires]

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

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

Words - 7,890

Warnings - Mention of death, but lots of fluff!

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

Her beloved Cyril. Their beloved Cyril.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That bloody bitch effing bloody woman!” 

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

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

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

“Viper,” she interjected with. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he missed him.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus bloody Christ!”  

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

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

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

“Alright, tin man.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you, too. All four of you.” 

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

The End.  

[justrainandcoffee]

Fireman!Alfie Solomons - Alternate Universe

Not for the first time the fire department received a call from that house and that young woman.

"Is it her again?" one of the firemen asked.

"The same."

"Jesus Christ," he rolled his eyes.

"Do not complain," his colleague, named Ollie, smirked. "Captain likes her."

It wasn't a secret that Captain Solomons was head over heels with that girl. And luckily for him, apparently she had a tendency to set kitchens on fire.

Or maybe she was just doing the same on purpose, to have the chance to see him. Because, how many times a person could cause an arson in their own kitchen?

I am seriously considering transform this into a miniseries. For me and my... 5 readers.

[whentommymetalfie]

Update: Chapter 13 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, suicidal ideation, PTSD

[auroracalisto]

day #20: bonfires

modern!alfie solomons x gn!reader, 261 words a/n: wish i was y/n. they always be livin the good life. also, this is what i imagine when i think bonfire. the last time i went to one, it was mostly wood and old boxes, but that's beside the point...

Winter was hard on Alfie, even if he wouldn't say it aloud. He hated the cold, and as much as he loved to bundle up in so many layers, he'd rather avoid the cold weather entirely.

Kind of impossible to do when you lived in England, but he could be hopeful.

When you mentioned going to a bonfire, he was all for it. The weather had nipped enough at his nose and ears, and he was ready for something to warm him right up. At the mention of booze being at this said bonfire, he was even more inclined to saying yes.

Simple and effective.

The two of you were out and at the bonfire shortly after the blaze had started. There were a few familiar faces on your end, and Alfie could have sworn he'd seen one or two of them around his shop, but he wasn't too sure—honestly, he didn't care.

With an arm around your shoulders and a sigh escaping him, he looked to the fire. It was hot, the flames threatening to lick at his skin, but he didn't mind. He'd take the heat over any chilly day.

Leaning forward, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"This was a good idea, love," he gruffly said, a smile on his lips.

"I know," you simply hummed, leaning your head against his shoulder for just a moment. You looked towards a make-shift bar and nudge his side. "Wanna get a drink?"

"Don't have to ask me twice," Alfie answered, squeezing your shoulder. "Don't mind if I do."

[hb-writes]

Ages ago, I (hand)wrote a little Modern!Alfie x Nameless OC/ Reader story and even made this little mood board for it, but then I misplaced what I had written so never came back to it. Anyway, I did just find the pages I'd written and thought I'd share the board because what I've written is actually not half bad so I may share it at one point.

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Could you write an Alfie x Reader where they are soulmates in which when ones skin is marred (wounds, tattoos, that kind of thing), and Y/n is always in pain and getting tattoos she never wanted because of her soulmate getting into fights. This makes her angry with the man she never met. You can choose how this ends :p

Soulbound Scars (Soulmate AU) (Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader) ONESHOT (request)

(UNEDITED)

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4028

Warnings: getting punched in the face 💀 Summary: (The request) A/N: This was acutally a really cute request, I had to write it!

In the gritty heart of Camden town's unforgiving underworld, Alfie Solomons reigned supreme as a feared and formidable gang leader. He was intimately acquainted with the relentless brutality that defined the streets he called home. His life was an unrelenting maelstrom of conflict and power struggles, a ceaseless cycle that left behind a haunting tapestry of scars and pain, etched into both his flesh and his very soul. The very essence of his existence was a testament to the harsh, unyielding reality of his world.

But in the midst of this brutal world, there existed another figure, shrouded in mystery, whose existence was inextricably tied to Alfie's in a most enigmatic way. Y/n, a woman of quiet strength and boundless empathy, bore an unusual burden. She was, in every sense, Alfie's counterpart, linked to him by a connection that defied explanation. They were soulmates, united by an unbreakable bond that allowed them to experience each other's pain, scars, and life's trials.

Y/n's life in Camden Town was far from ordinary. She was a young woman who struggled to secure employment in a society that had little regard for her gender, and the ever-present physical toll her body bore. Her skin was adorned with an intricate mosaic of tattoos, scars, and bruises, yet these marks were not the result of her actions. Rather, they were a reflection of Alfie's turbulent existence, a testament to his unending battles and ceaseless struggles.

As Y/n walked down the crowded streets of Camden Town, she couldn't help but feel the weight of judgmental glances upon her. Her face, adorned with an assortment of bruises and cuts, was a testament to the unspoken battles she fought daily. Every step she took was accompanied by a barrage of side-eyed glances, a mixture of curiosity, concern, and, unfortunately, condemnation.

The passersby, with their fleeting gazes and murmured comments, couldn't comprehend the enigmatic tapestry of pain that adorned her skin. Some showed empathy, recognizing the silent cries for help etched into her features. Others, less understanding, chose to avert their eyes or exchanged hushed words of gossip.

Y/n's path through the bustling streets was a journey marked not only by the physical toll on her body but also by the constant scrutiny of a world that judged without knowing the depth of her struggle. Yet, she persevered, refusing to let the unforgiving stares deter her from navigating the complex tapestry of her life.

Amid the relentless scrutiny she endured while walking the streets of Camden Town, Y/n faced another layer of her unique predicament. Not only was her face a canvas of bruises and cuts, but her body was further adorned with intricate, mysterious tattoos that she had no control over. These tattoos covered her arms in a vivid tapestry of ink, each mark a stark reminder of Alfie's tumultuous life.

The abundance of tattoos left Y/n with a wardrobe of clothing choices that were constrained by the need to conceal the enigmatic symbols etched upon her skin. She would carefully select long-sleeved shirts, even during the warmest days, to hide the visual evidence of her connection to this mysterious man she share her soul with. It was a constant battle between the desire to blend in and the ever-present reality of the inked tapestry beneath her clothing.

Nights were another challenge altogether. Y/n would often wake up, feeling an all-too-familiar sensation of itching along her arms, only to discover the presence of yet another tattoo. These markings appeared as if Alfie's struggles and battles were transferred onto her very skin while she slept. Each morning, she faced the daunting task of examining the new additions, each telling a story of violence and turmoil.

The combination of her conspicuous injuries and the ever-multiplying tattoos made Y/n a walking enigma, a living testament to the strange connection she shared with Alfie. As she navigated the judgmental streets, it was as though her entire existence was a riddle waiting to be unravelled, leaving Y/n isolated in a world that couldn't begin to comprehend the complexities of her situation.

In an era where the challenges of being a woman were already formidable, Y/n's unique circumstances made her life exponentially more difficult. The inherent bias and inequality that women faced were amplified by her conspicuous appearance, which seemed to carry the weight of an even greater burden.

The mere act of stepping out into the unforgiving world became an ordeal, where she had to navigate a labyrinth of prejudice and stereotypes. It was an era where gender roles were strictly defined, and women were expected to conform to society's expectations. Y/n, however, was anything but conventional.

Her path was marred not only by the physical marks that adorned her face and body but also by the constant whispers and judgments that followed her like a shadow. The way she looked challenged the societal norms of the time, rendering her an outlier in an environment that preferred conformity.

Y/n's resilience was undeniable. To stand out in a world that sought to stifle her, to bear the physical and emotional scars of a life she never asked for, took a courage that surpassed the ordinary. Despite the world's judgmental gaze and its relentless attempts to stifle her spirit, Y/n remained determined to carve her own path, defying the limitations placed upon her by society, and, most notably, the mysterious connection she shared with this rebel.

Y/n had never come face to face with the man, but an undeniable aversion had taken root deep within her. It was a visceral sensation, a loathing that had no rational explanation but ran through her like a vein of unyielding steel. 

Y/n's life had been intricately woven with the presence of a man she had never met, and the intensity of her feelings toward him was palpable. While the connection between their souls was undeniable, she remained in the dark about his identity, an enigma that both frustrated and intrigued her.

The absence of a face, a name, or any defining feature to attach her emotions to only fueled her disdain. She couldn't help but loathe the man who had unknowingly brought a cascade of chaos into her existence. It was as if her life had been entangled with his in a relentless dance of pain and suffering, and she had been given no choice in the matter.

The absence of answers, and the inability to pinpoint the source of her torment, was a constant source of frustration. Her heart was burdened by the knowledge that there was a soulmate out there, somewhere, who held the key to her mysterious existence.

Yet, despite the resentment and the ambiguity of it all, there was a peculiar undercurrent of curiosity that lingered within her. She couldn't help but wonder about the man who was the silent orchestrator of her suffering, yearning to understand the intricacies of their shared connection and the profound impact it had on her life.

-

On an overcast afternoon in Camden Town, Y/n was strolling down the bustling streets, her steps guided by a peculiar yet undeniable pull. She'd been to Camden countless times, weaving through the vibrant marketplace, but today was different. A magnetic sensation drew her towards a particular establishment she'd often passed without a second thought.

The bar, a dimly lit, weathered haunt tucked away in an inconspicuous corner, beckoned her like a siren's call. Its façade was adorned with faded neon signs and a slightly cracked window, offering a glimpse of a cosy interior where the hum of conversation mingled with the distant strum of a guitar.

Without knowing why, Y/n found herself standing in front of the entrance, the tattered awning casting a shadow over her features. Her heart raced, her curiosity piqued. It was as if an invisible hand guided her, a force she couldn't resist. 

She pushed the weathered door open and stepped inside, the scent of aged wood and alcohol enveloping her senses. The bar was a time capsule, frozen in an era of dimly lit intimacy, a stark contrast to the chaotic streets outside. It was a place where stories were etched into every surface, where secrets were shared over drinks, and where the past seemed to linger in every corner.

Amid the dimly lit interior of the bar, Y/n's footsteps were guided by an inexplicable force, leading her toward a specific corner that seemed to beckon her with an eerie allure. It was as if an unseen hand had gently pushed her in that direction, while an electric sensation sent shivers down her spine.

In that corner, bathed in a faint, golden glow of a solitary overhead lamp, sat a large, bearded man. His hulking presence was accentuated by a formidable frame that seemed to fill the space around him. A thick, grizzled beard covered most of his face, and a distinctive porkpie hat crowned his head.

The room around her faded into a distant murmur as she locked eyes with the mysterious figure. There was an air of enigma that surrounded him, an aura of intrigue that had lured her to this very spot. His gaze, beneath the shadow of his hat, was intense and penetrating, as if he had been waiting for her all along.

The atmosphere in that corner of the bar felt pregnant with significance, as though their destinies were inexorably entwined. Y/n stood there, captivated by the presence of the bearded man, and the unspoken connection between them seemed to hum with an undeniable, almost magnetic force.

As Y/n stood there, locked in the intense gaze of the bearded man with the porkpie hat, a profound realization washed over her. It was as if time had come to a standstill, and the world around them had faded into insignificance. The magnetic force that had drawn her to this corner of the bar, the inexplicable connection she had felt, was crystallizing before her eyes.

The bearded man's eyes, beneath the shadow of his hat, held a gaze so intense that it seemed to pierce through her very soul. In those deep, penetrating eyes, Y/n saw a reflection of the same enigmatic pull she had felt, an electric connection that transcended reason.

At that moment, their souls seemed to align, and she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this man was her soulmate. It wasn't a matter of mere coincidence or chance. It was a profound connection, one that had bound them together long before they had even met.

As the realization dawned, the bearded man's mesmerized expression mirrored her own astonishment. The unspoken recognition between them was palpable, a bridge of understanding that needed no words. It was as if the universe itself had orchestrated this meeting, a fateful collision of two souls destined to be together.

In the hushed corner of the bar, amid the dim light and the enigmatic atmosphere, Y/n and her newfound soulmate shared a moment of silent, mutual acknowledgement. It was a moment of clarity, an epiphany that transcended the boundaries of time and place, and in that moment, their souls danced to the same rhythm, forever united by an unbreakable bond.

As the profound realization of their soulmate connection washed over them, the bearded man with the porkpie hat rose from his seat with a deliberate, almost reverent slowness. His movements were graceful, as though he were stepping onto sacred ground, each step bringing him closer to the enigmatic woman who had walked into his life like a long-lost melody.

Y/n, too, was not to be outdone by the gravity of this moment. Her heart raced as she felt an irresistible force drawing her toward the bearded man. With determined strides, she marched up to him, her eyes locked onto his, and her pace unyielding. The world around them seemed to dissolve into an indistinct blur, leaving only the two of them in the spotlight of destiny.

The onlookers in the bar could sense that something extraordinary was unfolding before their eyes, a connection that transcended the ordinary boundaries of time and space. It was as if they were witnessing the reunion of two souls that had been apart for an eternity.

Despite the magnetic and mesmerizing connection between Y/n and the bearded man, there was still a torrent of emotions that coursed through her. The hatred she had harboured for him, fueled by the inexplicable nature of their soulmate connection, surged within her.

Without warning, as the bearded man stood before her, Y/n's anger and frustration reached a boiling point. With a sudden, fierce motion, she swung her fist and landed a forceful punch squarely on the man's nose. The impact was a resounding blow, a manifestation of her pent-up emotions.

As her fist connected with the man's nose, the shockwaves of pain cascaded through their interconnected souls. Y/n felt not only the force of her own punch but also the searing pain of her soulmate's nose as if it were her own. The sensation was overwhelming, a shared agony that transcended the boundaries of their individual experiences.

In the dimly lit corner of the bar, their connection was brought to the forefront, not only in the inexplicable recognition of their bond but also in the shared pain they now bore. Y/n's actions were a culmination of the complex emotions that had swirled within her, and the bearded man, bewildered and in pain, held his nose, the realization of their unique connection etched into every facet of their beings.

The bar's patrons were taken aback as a young woman made her entrance, her presence exuding an air of defiance that seemed to defy explanation. The audacious act of punching the formidable gang leader in the face sent shockwaves through the establishment, where the norm was to avoid eye contact with such a powerful figure.

A collective gasp seemed to hang in the air as the punch landed, and the aggressive gang leader was rocked by the force of the unexpected blow. The room fell into a hushed silence, the dimly lit atmosphere amplifying the intensity of the moment. The patrons exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions torn between concern and curiosity.

"That's for not fucking taking care of yourself, you bloody asshole!" Y/n screamed at the man, the words laced with frustration, her own blood trickling from her injured nose. Her emotions had finally found an outlet, and they erupted in a torrent of anger and pain.

The gang leader, despite the hit he had just taken, managed to crack a grin and release a hearty laugh, the sudden absurdity of the situation not lost on him. ”Fucking ‘ell.”

His amusement, although unexpected, seemed to shift the tension in the room, eliciting a mixture of uncertain chuckles from some of the patrons. 

"You pack quite a fucking punch, don't you, dear?" The bearded man remarked, his voice a mixture of amusement and respect as if he had gained a newfound appreciation for the fiery spirit that resided within the young woman who had just rocked his world.

"Yeah, I can feel that," Y/n replied, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm, although her nose throbbed with an intensity that mirrored the exchange of emotions and pain they were sharing. The connection between them was undeniable, transcending the physical and into the realm of something far more profound. As they stood there, two souls locked in a complex dance of emotions, the world around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the enigmatic connection that bound them together.

"Let's get out of here, yeah?" her soulmate suggested, his words carrying an unspoken urgency as if they were drawn together by a force that extended beyond the confines of the bar. 

"What's your name, las’?" he asked, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Y/n," she replied, her own lips curving into a hesitant yet genuine smile. It was a simple exchange of names, but at that moment, it felt like the beginning of a new chapter in their intertwined destinies.

"Alfie," the man introduced himself, the weight of his name now matched by the weight of their shared connection.

Y/n offered a small nod, a sense of relief washing over her. Finally knowing the name of the man who had unintentionally been putting her through a rollercoaster of emotions brought a strange comfort. The enigmatic puzzle pieces of their lives were beginning to fall into place, even if it meant navigating an uncertain and unconventional path together.

"Sorry 'bout the..." Y/n began, her voice trailing off as she lifted her hand and mimicked a small punching motion to indicate the earlier altercation.

Her soulmate chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he understood the gesture. "No need to apologize, love," he said, his voice tinged with warmth. “I probably deserved that.”

"Yeah! You fucking well deserved it, you've made my life a living hell!" Y/n exclaimed, her laughter ringing with a mixture of relief and exasperation. The absurdity of the situation seemed to dawn on her as she continued, "No one's gonna hire a woman who looks like she's getting beaten every other day, and don't even get me started on these bloody tattoos." Her words were a blend of frustration and humour, a testament to the unique challenges she had faced due to her mysterious connection with Alfie.

Alfie couldn't help but join in her laughter, his own laughter resonating with the understanding of the bizarre reality they had been thrust into. "Well, you certainly don't mince your words, love," he remarked with a grin, finding an unexpected camaraderie in the woman who had just punched him in the face. It was as if, in that moment, their shared experiences and shared pain had forged a connection that transcended their initial animosity.

"Well, looking like you, you could imagine why," Y/n replied with a wry smile, her gaze shifting from her own scars and bruises to Alfie's imposing figure. It was a moment of shared understanding, a recognition that their connection had created a unique bond, neither one had anticipated.

"Well, you can work for me if you'd like," Alfie offered, his smile carrying a mixture of genuine kindness and a touch of playfulness. It was an unexpected proposition, given their tumultuous introduction, but it seemed to fit the absurdity of their situation perfectly.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, the offer taking her by surprise. "Work for you? Doing what, exactly?"

"Well, I could always use a secretary," Alfie mused, a spontaneous idea forming in his mind.

Y/n arched an eyebrow, considering the offer. "Is it legal?" she asked, her practicality coming to the forefront.

"Does it really matter?" Alfie replied with a sly smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement. The legality of the situation seemed to be a secondary concern in the face of their newfound partnership, and the unconventional offer only added to the intrigue of the strange and extraordinary connection they now shared.

They halted just outside the building, its imposing exterior betraying the secrecy that lay within. Alfie held the heavy door open, allowing Y/n to step inside.

"What is this place?" Y/n inquired, her gaze scanning the interior with curiosity.

Alfie hesitated for a moment before he answered with a cryptic smile, "My bakery."

As Y/n took in the surroundings, it became evident that it was far from being a conventional bakery. The heady scent of spirits and the sight of distilling equipment told a different story. It was a distillery, hidden beneath the facade of a bakery, and it held the promise of adventures, secrets, and perhaps a partnership that defied expectations.

Alfie guided her through the labyrinthine distillery, the aroma of spirits filling the air as they navigated the maze of barrels and machinery. Eventually, they reached his office, where he motioned for Y/n to take a seat on a well-worn couch. With a nod, he disappeared briefly to retrieve something from his desk.

Seated in his office, Y/n felt a sense of anticipation and curiosity. The air was heavy with the secrets held within the distillery's walls, and she couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead.

As Alfie busied himself, Y/n decided to shed her heavy jacket, the worn leather falling to the floor. It revealed the intricate tapestry of tattoos that adorned her arms and shoulders, each one a testament to the shared pain and connection she had with Alfie. Her short-sleeved dress showcased the artwork etched into her skin, a silent testament to the unique bond they shared and the scars that painted their lives.

Alfie returned to the room, a low, appreciative whistle escaping his lips as his eyes traced the intricate tattoos that adorned Y/n's arms. "Nice tattoos," he remarked, a playful lilt in his voice.

Y/n couldn't help but smirk in response. "Yeah, you're a real artist, aren't you?" Her words held a teasing quality, a recognition of the shared journey they were embarking upon.

Their banter, filled with humour and unspoken understanding, seemed to define the beginning of their unique partnership. It was a partnership that transcended the ordinary, rooted in the inexplicable connection they had discovered, and the world outside the distillery seemed to fade into insignificance as their shared adventure began.

Alfie returned with a bowl of water and a small towel, his actions reflecting a surprising tenderness. He dipped the cloth into the water, wringing it out slightly before approaching Y/n. Gently, he began to wipe away the dried blood that clung above her lip, his touch careful and considerate.

Y/n watched him silently, a mix of emotions swirling within her. The contrast between the fearsome gang leader she had initially encountered and this side of him, which displayed care and concern, was stark and intriguing. The unspoken bond they shared was revealing itself in unexpected ways, forging a connection that transcended their tumultuous introduction.

"Thanks," Y/n whispered, her voice laced with a hint of gratitude as Alfie continued to clean the dried blood from her face.

Alfie rose from his seat, a soft smile playing at his lips as he emptied the bowl, the remnants of their shared pain vanishing with the crimson-stained water. With a quick swipe, he also cleaned the blood that had found its way into his beard. 

Y/n leaned back on the couch, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "So... when do I start work?" she inquired, her tone a mixture of anticipation and eagerness as if she was ready to embark on this new and unconventional chapter of her life.

Alfie paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on her before he answered, his words carrying a sense of excitement. "Tomorrow work for you?" The invitation was met with a nod from Y/n, and the distillery office seemed to brim with the promise of shared adventures, unspoken secrets, and a partnership that was forged in the most peculiar of circumstances.

-

And so, as they embarked on this unique story together, Y/n and Alfie found themselves bound not only by shared pain but by a connection that defied explanation. Their partnership, born from an unconventional introduction, took them through the labyrinthine world of the distillery and the tumultuous streets of Camden town.

In each other, they discovered not just an understanding of the scars and bruises that marked their bodies, but a shared resilience and strength that allowed them to navigate a world where the boundaries between pain and pleasure, danger and intrigue, blurred into something altogether extraordinary.

As they ventured into the uncharted territory of their newfound partnership, the scars that painted their lives, and the enigmatic connection that bound them together seemed to promise a future filled with unexpected adventures, challenges, and perhaps, a love that transcended the ordinary. The pain they shared had given birth to an extraordinary bond, one that would forever unite their souls in the chaos of Camden town.

- A/N: Had absolutely no idea how to end this off but I'm happy with what I've written. I hope you enjoyed this one-shot as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know they didn't interact much until the end but...it's still cute maybe Don't know how they wanted me to write this request but I hope they're happy. But keep requesting as I really enjoy them. :) 💚

[novashelby]

Evelyn Shelby(OC) x Alfie-AU EVIE Verse. Meaning no connection to the main fic or timeline. Just playing around with Evie and different characters. Enjoy! I'm trying to write Alfie more.

TW: Mention of bombs and sex

It was her second attempt at university. She was turning thirty that October. However, life had other plans. Germany had other plans. When she was a little girl, she always asked her daddy if there was ever going to be another war. Either Tommy lied to make her feel safe or he truly wanted to believe it himself.

"You know, I don't feel so comfortable with you going far from home, Evelyn-London-"

"Daddy, I'll be thirty this year. I'd like to go to London, alright?" She stopped speaking, noticing his tense nature. "I'm no safer here." He couldn't argue with her. His eight year old girl was in fact thirty. She was going to do what she wanted.

So, she went to London in late August and in September of 1940, everything changed. They were so loud. The bombs. Her and the rest of the ladies were forced to live, breathe, eat, and study in a shelter that was really just a makeshift basement where the university kept files. They were only allowed out during certain hours and had to be back before a certain time.

But Evelyn never followed a curfew. If Tommy Shelby couldn't make her, fuck Germany. Hitler wasn't going to make her follow no stupid curfew.

"Un-fucking-real," the gentleman said when she walked through his underground distillery and into his 'office'. It was less of an office, more of a closet. "Not even a fuckin' air raid gives me a fuckin' break from you fuckin' Shelbys-"

"Nice to see you, Mr. Solomons-"

"Shouldn't you be home?" he asked, fixing his specks. He was observing some type of trinket. Evelyn looked over the desk at it, humming. "What?"

"I was sick of living with fifteen other girls in a file room," she explained, looking around the place. "Thought I'd get some fresh air." She sniffed in the dust. "Though, I don't think your office is that fresh-no offense." She looked over at him. "It's dusty-"

Alfie put down the trinket, and leaned back, unamused expression. "It's a fuckin' closest." Evelyn sat on a pile of boxes, folding her legs. "Make yourself at home," he said, sarcastically, of course. "Just like your daddy-barge right in. You know modern people call before they visit? or they write?"

Evelyn chuckled. "Well, Mr. Solomons. You and my father also have something in common."

"Fuck off with that-"

"Both old, grouchy, miserable," she started, rising from the boxes and walking over, leaning on the flimsy desk. "Dusty, unmarried men. Would you not like some company? You've aged a lot since I've last seen you-"

"Are you going to try and fuck me again?" he asked before settling on, "you can sleep on the makeshift bed." Alfie wasn't going to make a young lady traverse through the dodgy London streets risking getting stuck in an air raid.

"And where will you sleep?" she asked.

"I won't-"

"But what if it gets cold and I'll need more warmth? Mr. Solomons, you are an awful host." He commented how they were, once again, in a closet. That it was a....bloody fuckin' stuffy in there...and he was...nearly sweating my arse off. "Then you should have no qualms about me undressing-"

"Bloody fuckin' 'ell...alright," he groaned. Evelyn was a strange woman, he thought. "Desk or cot?"

She hummed, looking at her watch. "It's early...surely we can make our rounds. I bet we'll even make it against the ceiling if we get our position right."

[teddy06writes]

Much Ado About Nothing

Alfie Solomons x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking,

Premise: It's a Much Ado About Nothing AU, with Alfie as Benedick and Reader as Beatrice

Useful links: click here for a plot summary of the play, here for access to a version w/David Tennant and Katherine Tate, here for a proshot of a production at the Globe, and here for a wonderful video essay that discusses the plot and has a very insightful tangent about Judaism in Shakespeare.

{I've got a lot going on right now what with the production I'm in being in tech, plus even if I'm doing a simplified version of this, it's still quite a bit of work to go through the script bit by bit, I've decided that I'm going to just release the bit that I have done, and then if people really want more I'll do it in parts}

{Most dialogue is either directly quoted or paraphrased directly from the original text}

It was a beautiful day in the seaside town of Margate, and for the first time in years, you and your family were finally able to enjoy it. The war had been over for months, and with the arrival of spring, it felt like the world was finally alive again.

You were out lounging on the veranda with your cousin Esme, and her friend Ada, enjoying the fresh air when you heard footsteps coming down the gravel driveway. Esme sat up, in her deck chair, "Are we expecting company?"

"I didn't think so." You frowned.

Ada was already at the railing, peering around to try and make out who it was, "I don't recognize him- but he is wearing an army uniform!"

Esme let out a squeal, all but jumping up out of her chair and rushing over to look over Ada's shoulder. You let out a groan, reaching for your drink.

It only took a few moments for your uncle, Johnny Dogs to come bursting out onto the veranda, a letter in hand, and followed closely by Polly and the messenger Ada had seen, "I've learned, in this letter, that Tommy Shelby and his unit are coming to Margate, this very night!"

Esme let out another squeal, quickly chattering away to Ada, filling her in on the events of the Unit's last stop in Margate just before the war.

"He was very near by this," The messenger offered, "They were just getting into town when I left them."

Johnny Dogs nodded, "And how many gentlemen did you lose in this- action?"

"Our unit seems to oppose the rest of the war: we lost few of sort and none of name." The messenger said proudly. This prompted another little burst of excitement from Esme.

"A victory is twice itself when the achievers return home in full number."

Johnny aimed a pointed look at her, reading a bit more from the letter, "It says here, that Tommy has bestowed much honor on his younger brother John."

You chuckled as Esme went bright red, practically glaring back across the veranda with the look of someone caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Much deserved on his part, and equally remembered by the Sergeant Major. He bore himself beyond the promise of his age, doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a lion. He has indeed better bettered expectation than you must expect me to tell you." The messenger excepted the drink offered to him.

You pulled yourself up out of your chair, "I pray you, has signor Mountanto returned from the war, or no?"

The messenger turned to you with a frown, "I know none by that name, Lady."

"My cousin means that Captain Solomons from Camden town." Esme spoke up, glad the attention was finally gone from her and her crush.

"Oh, he's returned and as pleasant as ever."

You let off a scoff, "I pray you, how many has he killed and eaten in this war? How many has he killed, for I have sworn to eat all his killing."

"Niece, you tax Mr. Solomons too much." Johnny Dogs scolded.

Polly chuckled from where she'd taken up your empty chair, "But he'll meet with you, I have no doubt."

The messenger still focused on you, "He has done good service in the war, lady."

You raised an eyebrow, "You had stale food, and he helped you eat it. He's a very brave eater. He has good stomach for it."

"And a good soldier, too, Lady."

"And a good soldier to a lady," You shot back, "But what is he too a lord?"

"A lord to a lord, a man to a man, stuffed with all honorable virtues."

"It is so indeed," You nodded, punctuating your words with a sip from your drink, "He is no less than a stuffed man. but for the stuffing- well, we are all mortal."

"You must not mistake my niece, sir," Johnny Dogs interrupted, quickly explaining, "There is a kind of merry war between Mr. Solomons and her: they never meet but there is a skirmish of wit between them."

You groaned, "He learns nothing by that!"

"It's true enough." Ada teased.

You crossed to the rail of the veranda, leaning back against it, "In our last conflict, four of his five wits went halting off, and now the whole man is governed with one. So that if he have wit enough to keep him warm, it marks the difference between he and his horse. It is all the wealth he has left, to be known for a reasonable creature."

The messenger let out a laugh, "Truly?"

"Aye," You nodded, "Tell me, who is his companion now? He has a new sworn brother each month."

"Is it possible?"

"Very easily possible, he wears his faith like the fashion of his hat- it always changes with the next block."

"I see, Lady. The gentlemen is not in your books." The messenger nodded as if he finally understood.

"No, and if he were I would burn the whole library." You nodded in a agreement, "But truly, who is his companion? Is there no young man who make voyage to the devil with him?"

"He's mostly in the company of the younger Shelby brother: John." And as he gestured back toward Esme, who blushed again, you had to hand it to the messenger: he was a quick learner.

"Oh lord," You groaned, "He will hang upon him like a disease. Alife is sooner caught than the pestilence and the taker always runs mad. God help young John, if he has caught the Solomons it will cost him much to be cured of it."

The messenger chuckled, "I will hold friends with you lady."

You grinned, reaching out to clink your glass to his, "Do, good friend."

"And you'll never run mad niece?" Your uncle asked.

"No, not till a hot january." You quipped.

Before anyone else could retort, the sound of gravel crunch under tires filled the air, and Johnny Dogs was leading the way off the veranda and around the side of the house to meet the new guests.

There in the driveway, your little party was met with the grimmer one of Mr. Shelby. Thomas himself was leading the way towards the house from the cars, flanked by the others as he called, "Johnny Dogs, you've come to meet your trouble. You know the fashion of the world is to avoid cost, yet you encounter it."

Johnny Dogs let out a barking laugh, "Never came trouble to my house in the likeness of you and your good men. For trouble being gone, comfort remains and when you leave- sorrow abides and happiness leaves with you."

"You brace your charge too willingly." Still, Tommy allowed himself to be dragged into his hug. When they seperated, Tommy caught sight of the rest of the party, "Ah, then this your daughter, Esme."

"Her mother has many times told me so."

Finally disentangling himself from the ruckus being made by the soldiers now that they were out of Tommy's orders, Alfie appear at his side, "Were you in doubt sir, that you asked her?"

"Ah, Mr. Solomons, no, for then you were only a child." Johnny said, slapping him on the back.

"You have it full Alfie, and we can tell what kind of man you are for it," Tommy, turned making his way back to Esme, "Surely the lady fathers herself. Be happy lady, for you are like an honorable father."

"If Johnny Dogs be her father, then she would not have his head on her shoulders for all of Margate!" Alfie laughed, but the group had already moved away, as Tommy caught up with the rest of the household.

From where you had found a perch against the side of the house you sighed, "It's a wonder you will still be talking, Alfie. Nobody marks you."

"What-" Alfie slowly turned on his heel, taking in the sight of you, lounging in the sun, "My dear Lady Disdain- are you yet living?"

You smirked, raising your glass towards him mockingly, "Is it possible disdain should die when she has such food to feed on as Alfie Solomons? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come in her presence."

"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But, it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepting," He wagged a finger in your direction, "and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart- for truly, I love none."

"A dear happiness to women!" You cheered, pushing off the wall to stalk closer to him. "They would else have been troubled by a horrid suitor. I thank god and my cold blood that I am of your humor for that, I would rather hear a dog bark at a crow than a man swear that he loves me."

Alfie barked out a laugh, pointing a finger your direction, "God keep your ladyship in that frame of mind! So some gentleman or other can escape a scratched face!"

"Scratching could not make it worse, if it were such a face as yours."

"Well, you are a rare parrot teacher!" Alfie scoffed.

Your face suddenly felt hot, and you scrambled to retort, "Well better a bird of my tongue than a beast of yours!"

"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so a good continuer. But keep your way, in god's name, I am done." He all but waved you away, turning to follow as the rest of the company began to make their way into the house.

You sat for a long moment, watching him disappear, before shaking your head and making your way back around towards the veranda, muttering, "You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old."

[dreamlandcreations]

The One That Got Away

modern gangster!Alfie Solomons x undercover cop!Reader

Summary: this prompt in this AU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not...your problem."

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

[potter-solomons]

MA'AM do not tease me for my heart cannot take it.

Those are my boos. 😮😮🥺🥺🥰🥰

Cannot wait.

COMING SOON!

More Beth and Alfie. Yep. I want to revisit them whenever an idea comes to me, and one has indeed arrived up in my creative brain! :D

Tagging all who were into the first series - @potter-solomons @dreamlandcreations @youflickedtooharddamnit @omgeternal @tomhardyspinkyfinger @babaohhhriley @cillmequick @piscesgyalinit @confessionbrain @bitter-post-millennial @liliac-dreamer @zablife @creator-appreciator @buttercupsandboys @mollybegger-blog

[evita-shelby]

The Wandering

thank you @justrainandcoffee for letting me play with Rolfie and make this sequel to We didn't start the fire🖤

this is only a preview

summary: the Nelsons visit the Wandering Jew on Halloween and Rose makes the mistake of asking Eva to investigate the ghost as well as the strange vibe the hotel has.

Their first trip after the pandemic is London to visit Katie and her husband.

Its Halloween and because they don’t want to make things awkward with his sister and her husband ---because Eva has had baby fever after seeing Laurie's baby daughter---, they stay at the Wandering Jew.

They knew the owners, Rose and Alfie even if neither Jack nor Alfie could stand each other. They were more Eva and Katie’s friends than his and suddenly he and Alfie are sharing a rum bottle because Rose swears there’s a ghost in this place and Eva dabbles in witchcraft.

Jack wouldn’t lie and say he doesn’t believe her if their room and the hall it was didn’t give him a nauseating sense of déjà vu.

The painting with a red bearded knight and the lady that reminded him of Eva had been the first, then the dent on the simple candleholder felt like he’d been the one to drop it and the bed board ,to top it all off, had their initials in a heart with today’s date.

“Do you think it’s safe?” Alfie asks Jack who he assumes knows the answer as he takes another candy from the obnoxiously huge bag of Halloween candy they’d brought from the States at Rose’s request.

“Fuck if I know.” Jack takes a swig of the rum bottle having no fucking clue what this will bring.

And then they woke up alone in the waiting room with a hangover. The Hotel looked the same when he went upstairs to his room expecting to find a sleeping Eva who’s going to tease him for getting blackout drunk last night.

The door opens to reveal a medieval castle, Eva dressed exactly like the woman in the painting and talking like she’s in a Shakespearean play. And because he thought it was just a crazy sex dream, he let Princess Eva led him to the bedroom only to find himself alone and back in the hall of the Wandering Jew.

Not only that he is wearing the heavy steel armor, the red beard he’d kill to grow out like that and even worse, completely sober.

Had to be a dream, must’ve been the rum, the candy and the takeout they had last night.

“Fucking hell, what sort of ritual did Evie do?” Alfie, dressed in simple medieval clothes, appears from a different room.

[justrainandcoffee]

Bonita (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc)

"Did you take my phone this morning while I was taking a shower, Al?"

Alfie was behind the reception counter working when his girlfriend called him. "I don't know, did I?""

"I had a meeting and when I opened my phone to show the client some designs, I found your pictures. You're adorable."

"Glad you mention it, Rosie. Because I felt bonita."

From the other side of the line, he heard her laugh "Do you still feel bonita?"

"I feel bonita, yes."

"Good. You're bonita, but you know that."

"Also took some pictures of Cyril sleeping on our bed because he looked adorable. And I made a playlist for Beast and also your brother called in the process. There's also more pictures in a private album, but I highly recommend you not to open them in public."

"Oh God... You didn't."

"I did, luv, I told you... I felt bonita."

Based on this post. Thanks for your tag @peakyswritings ❤️

Alfie x Rose masterlist

[violentlyviolettripledecker]

If you write creatively then you know the feeling of sitting down thinking, "I bet I know what I'm getting myself into," and then the muses, or your own brain, or whatever is in the ether that is in charge of creative writing goes, "HA!"

So yeah, I surprised myself the other day.

I am still working on Monkey Puzzle Tree and the sequel to Water and Earth (and having a lot of fun lol - no spoilers but the Water and Earth sequel is already so gay, I'm having a great time). But if I get an idea for another fic, I usually write it down somewhere and return to it when I can.

I've been tossing the idea of a Tommy x Alfie fic around in my head for a while now. After reading Oh My God They Were Roommates I knew I wanted it to be a modern AU.

What happened instead (three paragraphs later I finally get to the point, somebody help me) was a Hogwarts AU. It shocked me as well, y'all, this was not what I was gearing up for.

My problem with this is obvious. She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named has not ruined the franchise for me, but she makes the fandom a tense place to be and I know a lot of people won't read or engage with fanworks regarding this subject and I fully agree with and support that.

I write for myself, I am my best, first, worst audience. I post, though, hoping for some engagement, even if it's small. So I guess I'm testing the waters before I get too excited (before I knew it there was a blank document open on my computer getting steadily less blank as ideas just flew across the page).

I'm going to to tag Harry Potter and Hogwarts AU so if anyone has those tags blocked they don't have to see this post. I haven't written in the HP fandom for a long time, but for many years when I did, I always made a main character trans and will continue that tradition with this work.

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / Chapter Ten

a peaky blinders Modern AU balletcore story?

Chapter List

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

John

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🔪🦢

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[zablife]

Best in Show-Meet the Dogs

Dog Show AU- You know the people, but who owns which dog? I'll give you a description (under the cut) and you match the dog with its owner.

🐾 Border Collie-Best known for herding. This dog is intelligent, obedient and hardworking.

🐾 Bullmastiff-A muscular guard dog. This large animal is powerful and confident.

🐾 Italian Greyhound-This breed is delicate and sensitive. It dashes after fast moving prey. It tends to bond to one person.

🐾 Pomeranian-A good companion dog who learns tricks easily and enjoys training. Vivacious and friendly animals.

🐾 Poodle-Highly intelligent breed. They are hypoallergenic and require consistent grooming.

🐾 Norwich terrier-An energetic dog bred to hunt rodents. They also make good watchdogs.

Still unsure? Let's listen in on a few conversations overheard at the show.

🦴 “Don’t worry about my dog, Alfie. The only thing you need to know is that he’s worthy of the Shelby name, a real killer.”

Alfie catches sight of the creature behind Tommy and holds in his laughter as he exclaims, “Oh, really? And what has he killed recently besides your masculinity, Tommy?” He watched Tommy's face turn ten shades of red, hoping he'd embarrassed his enemy enough to withdraw from the competition.

🦴 "You don't employ a groomer?" May asked in confusion, watching Darby snip a few stray hairs from his dog's ear with razor sharp shears.

Before Darby could answer Luca appeared and interjected with a sneer, "Are you kidding? He grooms that dog like he's pruning a fucking bonsai tree." As he strolled away he said to himself, "Sure would be a pity if his hand slipped."

🦴 "Mrs. Carleton, I didn't expect to see you here," Tommy said rather self consciously.

"It's just another hobby to pass the time," May said with a shrug.

"Who do you have there?" she asked with a tilt of her head. "No, don't tell me! Tommy's Secret?" she said with an amused chuckle.

Tommy winced and she placed a hand to his arm by way of apology acknowledging, "It was a bad joke, I know. I'm sorry."

Redirecting her attention, Tommy gestured toward her dog and scratched under it's chin. Then he asked, "Why haven't I seen him before?"

"She's not allowed in the stables for obvious reasons. One misplaced hoof could be disastrous," May said with a shiver. "I suppose that's why I've never seen...What was his name?"

"Cillian," Tommy said with a soft smile. It was true, Cillian was more of a house dog, not venturing out into the world much.

🦴 "Shalom!" Alfie loudly greeted Luca with a grin, catching the paranoid looking man off guard.

"Keep your voice down or you'll upset my girl! ," Luca replied, trying to shove Alfie from his booth. "She's already feeling tense about the competition today."

"My apologies to the old trouble and strife," Alfie said sarcastically. Then looking around quizzically, he asked, "Where is Mrs. Changretta?"

"What are you talking about?" Luca said, barely paying attention as he fished a dog toy from his satchel. Then stooping to catch his dog's attention he cooed, "Look at the bee! It's your favorite busy bumble bee. We're going to stay calm and relax. Focus on your bee and breathe, principessa." Alfie scratched his head as the feared mafioso before him made buzzing sounds mixed with deep breathing exercises. Luca had lost his mind, but that could work in his favor, Alfie thought.

🦴 May shrieked as a dog entered her booth attempting to chase her precious pet. Shooing the intruder away, she stalked over to Jessie with an indignant glare. "You must do something about that beast!" she said, pointing at Jessie's dog. "I must insist you muzzle it before I have you both removed from the premises."

Jessie crossed her arms in defiance. She frowned at May and her entitled attitude. "And why would I do that? He isn't causing any harm to anyone," Jessie replied.

May's mouth gaped open at Jessie's stubbornness. No one ever questioned a Carleton. "Because my family sponsors this event and-"

"And you think everyone should fall at your feet. Is that it?" Jessie snapped. "I'll keep my dog on his lead, but only because I'd rather him be kept away from people like you." She turned on her heel and left, taking her dog with her for a walk. May was left huffing to herself and vowing to get that insolent woman disqualified.

*Answers here

[kind-wolf]

Soooo...

Stip poker... with Eames or modern gangster Alfie????? I can't decide 😭🤯

Btw I also don't really know how to play poker 🤣🙈

(also also they are mutually pining idiots 🥰)

That is an incredible difficult decision!

Personally I'd pick Eames. I think he'd try to cheat and be a lot more cheeky about it. 😄

Alfie would also cheat & try to distract you with talking some bullshit. 🤣

But if you don't know how to play... I bet Eames would love to teach you. You know... looking over your shoulder...leaning real close to whisper in your ear 😏